Disclaimer: RENT belongs to Jonathan Larson. I'm just playin' with the characters.
In your self-deluded, romantic ego-center of a mind, do you think I loved your cock, that you opened new planes of understanding and appreciation of life for me? Did you think you left me a broken heart, baby? Crippled, Benny, not broken, and not my heart either.
My crotch is on fire.
Scratching backstage in the Cat Scratch is one thing. The dancers are not a cohesive bunch-- what, did you picture us with our free lukewarm and coffee and powdered doughnuts, in some rundown but respectable warehouse for our monthly union meetings? You think we strike for working conditions, benefits, retirement, 401K and HMO?
But most of the girls either got 'em, had 'em, or stand to have 'em, so there's no judgment. We're the damned, huh? All burnin' in the same fire, just some of us got that fire in our crotches right now.
Not all places are the Scratch, though. I can't take the bus because sitting too long makes it itch and then hurt and all these classy done-up bitches with powdered nose and handbags made by whipped five-year-olds in India decide it's time to not just judge but falsely, openly pity that poor child who doesn't know that it's not appropriate to have an orgasm on the bus. AN ORGASM, dammit, Benny! They think it's an orgasm!
Hah. Bet it'd be the first one you'd given in a while. Except of course to that lily-white little roommate of yours. Oh, yeah, I know you want him bad and he's too shy and you're too refined to put out.
You prick. Does your poncy wife know about this? Does she got scars on her cunt 'cause it hurt so fucking bad she scratched with her fucking keys? Maybe I should tell her, Benny. Or maybe you did. Maybe you, oh, got them from the stripper at your bachelor party. You said that, didn't you? That it was one night, you've repented, you're ready to lick her pansy, inbred ass?
Just don't lick her cunt. Bugs'll bite your tongue. Maybe worse for them.
Do you know my rent? Of course you know my rent, since you collect it each month. Oh, the new arrangement just cracks me up. I like listening to the upstairs people tear into you. They sure have your number, don't they, Benny? The one you wanna fuck. He's hurt. The one who isn't quite as clever as he deludes himself that he is? Nice voice on that one. I miss it. Used to hear him sing. Then he screamed and now… mumbling.
Anyway the point. I need money. I can't take any more work at the Cat Scratch and I'm barely swinging the cost of AZT as it is. I need either money or the drugs to get rid of this, Benny, because I can't live with it. It hurts. You gave me this, I know you did, and you can deal with it. You have the money.
Get me the drugs, Benny.
END.
I don't usually use Mimi's point of view, but I really thought I'd found a voice for her this time. So, yeah, reviews would be great! Please?
