John Goes To Las Vegas

I'm not going to spend another night suffering through this kind of torture. I'm drawing old before my time. What time is it?

Funny John, because I'm not being funny, Blanche, I'm sleepy. Look at me, I've got cruel speed around my eyes, my forehead's all wrinkled and my chemis sagging. I'm beginning to look like an old witch. It's true, isn't it?

I wouldn't say that. Why not, John? I'll be awake for the rest of the night. That is true. You think I look like an old witch. I didn't say that. But you think it of me?

I don't think anything of you. You don't think anything of me is right. You don't even know I exist. Lance, what's the matter with you? Why don't you let me sleep? You know I have to catch a plane at seven in the morning.

Then why did you come home so late? I told you 50 times my car broke down and I had to push it home. A likely story. Lance, what do you want me to say? If your car broke down, why didn't you call me?

I didn't have a dime. You did too. I gave you a quarter this morning. Who'd you take to dinner tonight? The whole chorus from the Co-worker band. That's me, the boy, Diamond Jim Bickerson. But you let me sleep, Blanche.

It's never even thought of calling me. I sat here at one o'clock in the morning, Worrying myself into a stew. What'd you eat? Stew. What out the lights, Blanche? You sure have the answers, don't you?

And says questions all I want to do is close my eyes for a couple of hours before I take off. Sure, get up and run away, fly all over the country. You don't care about me.