Royal:
Got a minute?
Ethel:
[startled]
What are you doing here?
Royal:
Uh, I need a favour. I want to spend some time with you and the children.
Ethel:
Are you crazy?
[she carries on walking]
Royal:
Well, wait a minute, dammit!
Ethel:
Stop following me!
Royal:
Well, I want my family back.
Ethel:
Well, you can't have it! I'm sorry for you, but it's too late.
Royal:
Well, listen... Baby, I'm dying.
[she stops]
Royal:
Yeah, I-I'm sick as a dog. I'll be dead in six weeks. I'm dying.
Ethel:
What are you talking about? What's happening? Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't know...
[starts crying]
Ethel:
Well, what'd they say? What is the prognosis?
Royal:
[trying to comfort her]
Take it easy, Ethel. Now, hold on, baby, hold on. Hold on, OK?
[she starts wailing]
Ethel:
Where is the doctor?
Royal:
Well, look, just wait a second now. Wait a second. OK, uh, listen, I'm not dying... but I need some time. A month or so. OK? I want us to-to...
[she slaps him hard]
Ethel:
WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? Are you crazy?
[she walks off]
Royal:
Ethel, baby... I am dying.
[she comes back to him]
Ethel:
Are you or aren't you?
Royal:
What? Dying? Yeah.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:13