Franney Monologue

It’s them sycamores I remember. An’ the river, runnin’ deep and green, tinkling jus’ like the way Aunt Clara’s house keys used to when she was out on the porch about to unlock the front door. I’d hide my mouse in my pocket whene’er I heard them jinglin’ keys, because Aunt Clara ne’er liked ’em rodents hangin’ around her house. I was a smart boy, I really was.

From a very young age I’ve experienced and seen many unbelievable things, things that no child should ever see nor go through. One of these memories I remember as if it happened yesterday took place when I lived with my mother and her boyfriend. This man who I believed was kindhearted letting us move from our trailer into his apartment would go to be a person seared into my mind through fear and pain. After a few weeks he would start abusing my mother on a regular bases the same way he did to me. One night, he started striking my mother and even though I knew what could happen to me, I found the strength and tried to intervene.

Running through branches and high standing grass, I sprint as fast as my body will move. Insure about how much energy my body has left, I keep pacing a constant speed to catch up to Lennie. As the forest begins to come to an end, there is a lengthy creek that comes to view. Hesitating, I plunge into the water trying to find my dear friend Lennie. Just as I think there is no hope on finding him I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. Thinking it was just an animal, I turn away not even realizing that the animal was Lennie. Lennie, terror- stricken and drizzling, is standing right in front of me. I try to dash toward him, but since my legs are in the water they don’t seem to move quickly. Not even bothered about how slowly my feet are moving I still leap toward him in excitement. Since we were hugging I didn’t even realize that the neighing and running footsteps of the men’s horse were drawing closer to us.

The name is Frank Greene and I live in the wonderful New York City. Right now I’m sitting here at Lou’s bar celebrating New Year Eve with a brandy. I’ve lived here my whole life, except when Uncle Sam decided he needed me in Vietnam right out of high school. You may ask what use the army has for a 6 foot tall, average white guy from Manhattan, who had no applicable skills. They sent me straight to infantry with the rest of the draftees. I eventually got injured and was sent home with an incurable limp.

Come on women where the hell you've been? Been fucking around with Everyman on the planet. See fucking batsman the guardsman, doorman the fucking mailman had to go fucking dormant, in the morning became a Mormon. Don't touch my garment it's way to expensive and important. Don't want hands on it that don't belong to it. I refuse to except I'm a bad influence, it's intuitive assuasive. Let's be honest I'm innovative. Let's be honest to ourselves and our family's and say that we're pieces of shit. Just kidding. But I'm not kidding. Fucking peter the fisherman one of the most influential people in history. Stop fucking with me. Don't fuck with me. Or I'll curve you. One world order. Bonhomie records, Partners were not partners that's ignorance.

Her eyes glanced away from his for a brief moment, the air leaving her lips in a rather resigned manner. Drunk or not, he wasn’t going to let her be until he had tugged the truth out of her. But when it finally came out, would he see it for the sordid, rotten thing that it was? Would he see her that way? The only one she knew of that could relate to this was Vivianne. Her intellectual counterpart, the Devil’s Advocate in her everyday matters. Only she could see the scarlet that stained her hands and not pass judgement. But Priam? She thought the world of him -- to see disgust etched upon her features could bring her to ruins. All it took was one simple confession.

As you gaze upon the starry night, you recall what you once called home. The South was your home until your father drove you out. Although the streets molded you into who you are, your subconscious refuses to modernize. As you dwell upon these thoughts, Bono shakes you into reality. He hands you a can of beer and tunes the radio to the World Series. “It is Friday night, payday, and the one night of the week … [you] engage in a ritual of talk and drink.” (1)

“Hear about that man, Frank McKruckel, running around snatching kids, he ain't comin close to Charlie, Jenny” said Benjamin Jackson as he was reading the newspaper. Ben was referring to his son Charles, who was a rambunctious kid though he was 3 years old. He had learned to walk and talk

I have a grudge against my neighbor named John, and John has pushed the last of my buttons. Ive decided to take revenge on him for the years of torment that's made my life completely and utterly miserable. I am going to take his life and ill finally be free of the nightmare i know to be John.To do this it will take careful planning on my part and I’ll need a place to hide if im found out by the towns people. I’ll also need a place to hide the body and any evidence so people won’t become suspicious of my involvement of his sudden disappearance.

We have just arrived on this planet. Meg was completely knocked unconscious when we tesseracted from Camozots. The good news is that we found he father, the bad news is that charles-wallace is still under control of IT. On top of all I'm worried sick for Meg. These... beasts took Meg away, I haven't seen Meg in a while [I hope she's doing alright]. As for Mr.Murry and I the beasts took us in and gave us some food. Thank you to the happy medium for giving me my powers of communication, or we would possibly be dead. What is killing me though is coming so close to bringing Charles-Wallace back, I think if I go back I could turn him to normal, but I keep getting the feeling that this isn't my destiny.

A couple weeks ago I went to Charlie’s with some friends at two in the morning, it was a night that I will never forget. Around two in the morning, my friends were complaining of being hungry, so we decided that we were going to get something to eat. We decided on Charlie’s after a desultory argument of where to eat since Charlie’s is the only restaurant open at two. The drive to the restaurant was like no other I have ever had. My friends and I piled into my truck and my friends car, and we took off down the street heading toward Charlie’s, racing and blaring our music, so loud that people three miles away could've heard us. Driving down the street with no other cars was a scene that I am not used too. My attention kept getting pulled to

Ok, as you sound French, I shall respond in the style of Bernard-Henri Lévy a man you may be aware of who speaks your tongue and is as provocative as they come...

Where the heck am I? There’s jagged fences surrounding me and chubby faces attached to short necks are staring at me. How do they reach the leaves on trees? My wife, Lorrie has been hogging the luscious leaves for hours now. I’m starving and those short, weird, giraffes on the other side of the fence, aren’t sharing their food. What are they even holding. It looks like the flowers I used to visit when I lived in Africa. My golly, there absolutely stuffing there faces. The audacity! As I stand here wasting away, they just keep on eating. Maybe if I make a noise and get their attention, they give me some. But how do I do that? Back in Africa, I always had my first pick of the best ree and an optimal position at the water. After my Lorrie, of course.

Forgiveness is all I have left for Daniel, and for Jo-Anne. It is, after all, forgiveness that has set me free from them. When Jo-Anne came into my life, the impact of my infertility intensified. I thought she was better than me, that she was blessed with a baby and I was nothing more than a barren, married loser. Having forgiven her, I can forgive myself—love myself and my body.

style is so good! Never try to hide who you truly are, because we love