JACKIE: My sponsor told me you were a little fuckin’ whore and I didn’t believe him!
VERONICA: Fuck your sponsor!
JACKIE: I told him, “Nah, man, we got a special thing going down between us” —
VERONICA: Why don’t you go down on your fuckin’ sponsor, okay?
JACKIE: He said, “You can’t live with an active user” —
VERONICA: — Hey! I don’t hear this shit!
JACKIE: Who was it?
VERONICA: Go lick your sponsor’s fuckin’ balls, bitch.
JACKIE: You know what? You wanna flip the script on me like a textbook fuckin’ cokehead alcoholic streetwalkin’ skankass trick, dass fine — but I strongly suggest that you don’t underestimate my capacity for violence! (VERONICA grabs a vodka bottle and breaks the end off it.)
VERONICA: You wanna play? Try me!
JACKIE: I’ll fuckin’ kill you. You think I won’t kill you ’cuz I’m a nice guy, but believe me, I don’t give a fuck about nothin’ right now and I will end your life like you just ended mines!
VERONICA: You stay away from me!
JACKIE: Or what? You gonna hit me with that?
VERONICA: Back the fuck off, bitch! I don’t play that doormat punching bag shit —
JACKIE: — Who was it? Just tell me who, dass all I wanna know!
VERONICA: Who was who?! There wasn’t no “who,” ’cuz no one did nothin’ over here, and you’re out your mind playin’ fuckin’ Sherlock Holmes ’cuz I don’t know why! (Beat. JACKIE starts dressing.) Whaddya doing? (Silence.) Jackie, whaddya doing? (Silence. JACKIE takes a liquor bottle from out of the microwave oven.) Whaddya doing? Whaddya — gonna drink? A little misunderstanding happens because you’re fuckin’ stupid, and now you’re gonna pick up a drink and get your ass violated back upstate and ruin everything ’cuz you’re a jealous maniac with no leg to stand on?
JACKIE: It was that motherfuckah downstairs, wasn’t it?! That motherfuckah with the hat! He always wearing a hat, and now, suddenly, I got an unidentified fuckin’ hat sitting on my breakfast table!
VERONICA: Jackie, don’t get this twisted ’cuz I personally don’t care what you do, but, if you want my advice, put down the bottle, go to a fuckin’ meeting or something, meet up with that “sponsor” or whatever.
JACKIE: You so lucky I don’t hit women.
VERONICA: Yeah right, I’m a four-leaf clover, let’s go down to the casino and win a million bucks —
JACKIE: — Make jokes. Jokes are funny—
VERONICA: — Jackie —
JACKIE: — Don’t look at me!
VERONICA: I’m lookin’ at you — whaddya gonna do?! I’m fuckin’ sorry that you jumped to conclusions and had a conniption over nothin’, okay? And maybe I overreacted because you questioned my integrity —
JACKIE: — Questioned your integrity?! You fucked some motherfucker in this bed, Ronnie! There’s blow and vodka and cigarette butts and you didn’t think I’d be home so soon, and the motherfuckah left his hat like motherfucking Zorro leaving his “Z” all over the scene of the crime! Dass what happened! Fucking occurred here! And all I’m asking — in a world where murder right here and now would be fucked up but understandable — All I’m asking for is the owner of that dick! I want the owner! Tell me! (Beat.)
VERONICA: Okay … You know what? … Let’s go to the pie place, okay?
JACKIE: What?!
VERONICA: Callate! Look, let’s just go there, to the pie place, and we’ll have, like, some pie, and we’ll just, like, talk, or not even talk, we’ll just eat pie first and be. And after that, we’ll talk. You have got this wrong, Jackie. You’re so far out of line you’re like in Zimbabwe or some shit, but I think maybe cooler heads could prevail on both our parts at the pie place, so let’s just go there. I’m willing to do that. I’m willing to put the ghetto on hold and eat some fuckin’ pie with you, if you’re willing to entertain the notion that you’re a fuckin’ retard ex-con who almost blew it ’cuz you got an imagination like — I dunno — Dr. fuckin’ Seuss an’ shit. Okay?
Pause. He searches her eyes.
JACKIE: But you’re lying.
VERONICA: Look at me: I didn’t fuck nobody. Jackie, you know how I am. You know I’m a little fuckin’ crazy just like you’re a little fuckin’ crazy, and you know I’d rather spit on a nun’s cunt than give a fuckin’ inch when I been wronged. I been wronged here. You wronged me. Really, really fuckin’ badly. But I will concede to you — and it ain’t a small concession — that I love your ass. And I’ll kick a three-legged kitten down a flight of fuckin’ stairs rather than say some shit like I love you. You know that. So let’s go get some fuckin’ pie before someone here says something that can’t be changed. Okay? (A beat.)
JACKIE: Pie? …
VERONICA: Dass right. Right now.
JACKIE: Pie … Aaaight … Pie …
SCENE 2
A couple of hours later. A living room in Hell’s kitchen. There are posters of vitamins and nutrient supplements on the wall.
RALPH D. is sipping a strawberry-colored nutritional beverage. JACKIE rants, midstream —
JACKIE: — Right in my face she lied!
RALPH D: Sit down, man.
JACKIE: I mean, it might sound stupid to you, but that was our special place, that pie place bro, and there was, there was a fuckin’ — I’m serious — there was a sanctity to when we used to go there, you don’t know, it was like, “When it’s pie, don’t lie” — and she just lied the fuck all over it!
RALPH D: Pies and Lies. Got it. Now sit.
JACKIE: I’m telling you: I need a fuckin’ gun, bro!
RALPH D: First off, you need to calm down.
JACKIE: I’m calm.
RALPH D: No, not “Jackie” calm, Higher Power calm.
JACKIE: I’m calm. Really. I’m very calm.
RALPH D: Calm enough to pray with me?
JACKIE: Pray?!
RALPH D: Pray. Yes. You remember prayer, right? That little thing we do that saves our ass when we’re about to lose our minds over nothing twenty-five times a day?
JACKIE: Bro — I already prayed. Like, a lot, okay?
RALPH D: So pray again. Right now. Or get the fuck out. How’s that?
JACKIE: … Fine. (They join hands.) “God — Hello again … You may remember that I already prayed to You like 57 fuckin’ times on my way over here — ”
RALPH D: Stop messing around.
JACKIE: Fine … “God, I’m here at Ralph’s, I didn’t kill anybody or pick up a drink, so, thank You … seriously … thank You.” (To RALPH.) Okay?!
RALPH D: Say amen.
JACKIE: Amen.
RALPH D: Good. Thank you. Now: Did you read page 449 in the big book like I suggested?
JACKIE: I did.
RALPH D: Did you journal about it?
JACKIE: Bro, I hear you, and no, I didn’t journal, but I did read it, and I plan to journal, like soon —
RALPH D: Hold up … (Calling to the kitchen.) Sweetie, could you blender up my sponsee a nice nutritional beverage, please?
VICTORIA: (Offstage.) Go fuck yourself, Ralph!
RALPH D: Okay, honey, I’ll do that. (To JACKIE.) Anyway, where were we?
JACKIE: I was axin’ could your cousin Philly get me a gun, please.
RALPH D: Big book. Third edition. Page 449. It says what?
JACKIE: … “Acceptance.”
RALPH D: That’s right. “Acceptance” what?
JACKIE: Acceptance — it’s the answer.
RALPH D: No. It says, “Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today.” And what day are we concerned with here?
JACKIE: Ralph, man, I understand that shit, like in theory.
RALPH D: It’s not a theory. “The Lone Gunman,” that’s a theory. “Dinosaurs invented waterfalls” — that’s another theory. This program, Jackie, it’s a practice — not a theory. How’s it been working for you so far?
JACKIE: Yeah, man, pretty good.
RALPH D: But now you wanna change from the AA practice back to the Jackie practice?
JACKIE: I’m not saying that!
RALPH D: Okay, look man, I’m gonna make this real simple for you: If the Duane Reade is on fire, and I know it’s on fire, and yet, I keep running back in ’cuz I left two bucks in my wallet on the counter, and I come running back out looking like the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four but without the superpowers, and I start cryin’, “Look at me, Jackie, woe is me, I’m engulfed in flame like a fuckin’ marshmallow at the bottom of the campfire,” then — what are you gonna tell me?!
JACKIE: (Confused.) … What?
RALPH D: Your girlfriend is an addict! And she has many qualities, that even to the casual observer, would seem to indicate that she has basic fundamental issues with impulse control and making good judgements. Do I need to say more? (Calls out again.) Victoria, seriously, a beverage for my sponsee would be very nice!
VICTORIA: (Offstage.) You know what would be nice, Ralph? If you dropped dead of a fuckin’ coronary — that would be nice!
RALPH D: (To JACKIE.) Acceptance. See? My wife is the reincarnation of Benito Mussolini. What do I do? Acceptance. 449. Learn it. Live it. Be free.
JACKIE: Yo, if Veronica spoke to me like that —
RALPH D: Oh, she don’t speak to you like that?
JACKIE: Nah, I mean, she does, but —
RALPH D: — Yeah, well, Victoria? Same thing. But the difference between Victoria and your girl is that Victoria is in recovery — and your girl — she’s a wild fuckin’ animal who was raised by wolves in fuckin’ Puerto Rican Transylvania, okay? And that’s a problem. As evidenced by you showing up here looking for weaponry.
JACKIE: (Rising.) … I gotta go.
RALPH D: If you go back to her, you’ll be using again within twenty-four hours, you know that.
JACKIE: I ain’t goin’ back to her! Fuck her.
RALPH D: You see? Now you’re being sensible. In fact, you know what? You should stay with us for awhile.
JACKIE: Nah.
RALPH D: Yo, I’m serious. We got room. And I’ll tell you what: One month with us, you’ll be shocked at what a new man you’ll become. We got all kinds of health foods here, bro. And not just the beverages. Victoria, she prepares all kinds of healthy dishes — soy and tofu and fresh vegetables — you ever try yoga, bro?
JACKIE: Um, it’s “on my list” —
RALPH D: — Yeah, okay, funny, but really — is your life a joke, Jackie?
JACKIE: No.
RALPH D: What about your recovery? Something funny about that?
JACKIE: Nah, man. And I mean, I do got a list.
RALPH D: I got no doubt you do. And I’m here to tell you directly: Fuck a list, man. That’s right. Stop making lists. And start living the damn list. Can you do that?
JACKIE: … I can.
RALPH D: And isn’t that what you really wanna do anyway?
JACKIE: It is.
RALPH D: I know it is. I mean, I always thought yoga and fuckin’ soy milk an’ shit — they’re for fuckin’ assholes, right?
JACKIE: I mean, yeah, kinda.
RALPH D: Exactly. Well, guess what? I’m an asshole, bro! And so are you. Who else but a couple of real fuckin’ assholes would end up messing their lives up so bad that they had to go to meetings all the time, and pray, and be honest, and do all that bullshit because if they didn’t, they’d be fuckin’ dead in a year? So yeah, we’re fuckin’ ass-holes, but it’s okay. Hence — yoga. And hey — I may be a asshole, but I’m fuckin’ limber, bro! And healthy. And I like it. I’ll tell ya something: I’ve always wanted to learn how to surf — guess what?
JACKIE: You’re surfing now?
RALPH D: Three days a week I’m on the A train to Rockaway at 5:30 in the morning, and I’m surfing. Not “thinking about surfing.” Surfing, bro. Me! And I love it. I’m also learning how to speak French. I’m taking a fucking archery class, I floss now, I even showed up for jury duty for the first time in my life last month and I didn’t mind it at all — I read a great detective novel and ate licorice till they dismissed me — it was fuckin’ enjoyable!
JACKIE: Ralph —
RALPH D: No. Listen to me: I know you’re upset right now. I don’t blame you. It’s fucking upsetting.
JACKIE: It is!
RALPH D: I know it is. But this situation with your girl, it’s a blessing in disguise. And you know I’m right. And the fact that she would cheat on you is proof. And believe me, anybody that would cheat on you once, will do it again. It’s what they call The Cycle of Self-Sabotage. And that’s what addicts do. They self-sabotage. You know that. And I don’t want to see that happen to you. You’re my sponsee. I care about you. But it’s up to you.
JACKIE: I know.
RALPH D: Look, bro: My life isn’t about bullshit and heartache no more, and yours doesn’t have to be either. And you’re doing so good. But in order to change, you got to change, man. I did. You can too. Stay with me and Victoria, get on my nutritional beverage plan, go to meetings, come to Rockaway with me, and you’ll see the damn difference. I mean, look at me — how old you think I am?
JACKIE: I dunno. 46?
RALPH D: … Okay. But do I look 46?!
JACKIE: Look bro, I, I’m sorry — but I don’t really care how old you look right now!
RALPH D: You’re right. It don’t matter. What matters is you. I’m here for you. I mean, do you have any idea how proud I am of you?
JACKIE: I’m proud of you, too.
RALPH D: Nah, fuck me — I’m talking about you. Okay?
JACKIE: Yeah, man.
RALPH D: I’ll tell ya something —
VICTORIA: (Offstage.) RALPH?
RALPH D: … Yes, honey?
VICTORIA: Could you take it outside now, please — my show’s about to start!
RALPH D: You don’t wanna watch your show in the bedroom where it’s more comfortable? (VICTORIA enters.)
VICTORIA: Are you asking me if I would rather watch it on the nine-inch screen in there, rather than on the 58-inch plasma out here that I said we couldn’t afford but you went ahead and bought it anyway?!
JACKIE: I’m gonna split, bro.
RALPH D: Split where? To get a gun and do something stupid?
JACKIE: No.
RALPH D: To go back to Veronica?
JACKIE: No.
RALPH D: To drink?
JACKIE: Nothin’ like that.
VICTORIA: Ralph?
RALPH D: You’re not gonna confront this motherfucker with the hat, right?
JACKIE: Nah, man. I’m gonna walk, hit a meeting, come back and crash on the couch. You, you made a lotta good points. And what you talked about? I want that. Not, like, the archery, but, you know, the life.
RALPH D: Gotta work for it.
JACKIE: I know.
RALPH D: Which meeting you going to?
JACKIE: Probably like the 10 o’clock on 46th.
RALPH D: “Probably”?
JACKIE: Not probably. Definitely.
RALPH D: Good.
VICTORIA: Ralph!
RALPH D: (To VICTORIA.) Okay, baby, my bad — bring in those dried apricot strips — we’ll watch together! (To JACKIE.) Call me if you’re feeling fucked up.
JACKIE: Yeah, bro, absolutely.
RALPH D: No guns, no bullshit. Right, man?
JACKIE: Nah.
RALPH D: Proud of you. (They hug.)
VICTORIA: I’ll make up the couch for you, Jackie — and there’s fresh towels in the hallway closet.
JACKIE: Thanks, Victoria. (RALPH has grabbed the remote to turn on the TV.)
VICTORIA: (To RALPH.) I’m in charge of the remote, Ralph.
RALPH D: I’m just turning the thing on.
JACKIE: Thank you, Ralph.
RALPH D: Don’t thank me, you doing it yourself.
JACKIE: Nah, thank you … Thank you.
RALPH D: It’s what we do … And remember, bro: “No stinkin’ thinkin’, be wise like Abe
Lincoln.”
JACKIE: No doubt, bro. No doubt.
SCENE 3
The next day. A living room in Washington Heights with a lot of plants. JACKIE and RALPH D. sit on the couch waiting for COUSIN JULIO to return from the kitchen.
JACKIE: (Calling out.) Yo, Julio, hurry the fuck up, bro!
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) Be right there.
JACKIE: (Calling out.) We ain’t got all day!
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) I’m deep-frying empanadas. Would you like one?
JACKIE: (Calling out.) Nah.
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) How about your friend? I’ve got plenty of hot empanandas here.
RALPH D: (Calling out.) I’d love an empanada. Thanks.
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) Spinach or Garden Delight?
RALPH D: (Calling out.) Uh … Which would you recommend?
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) It depends on your feelings toward spices. One is spicier, the other is less spicy but a bit more fragrant.
RALPH D: (Calling out.) I’m good with whatever.
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) Do you have strong feelings either way about cilantro and yellow peppercorns?
JACKIE: (Calling out.) Yo, Julio, could you just get the fuck out here, please?!
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) I’m coming.
RALPH D: (Calling out.) I think I’ll take the spinach.
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) The spinach is spicier!
JACKIE: (Calling out.) Julio! C’mon!
COUSIN JULIO: (Calling out.) I’ll just bring out a tray. (COUSIN JULIO enters with a tray of empanadas and three cold beers. He wears workout gear. His physique is impressive.) Empanadas y cerveza seguro!
JACKIE: We don’t drink, bro.
COUSIN JULIO: But you drank at Mercedes’ christening last weekend.
RALPH D: (To JACKIE.) You drank?
JACKIE: Nah, man. This motherfuckah, my cousin Julio, he like to drink so much that he think everybody drinks even when they don’t. (To JULIO.) Tell him.
The Motherf**ker with the Hat Page 2
