Shut your goddamned filthy mouth. The truth hurts, doesn't it?
Listen, you stupid, drunken moron! She got into med school because she was a straight-A student, summa cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa, and has more brains in her little finger than you have in your entire alcohol-besotted brain. A straight-A slurper.
All right, Christina, I'm not going to let you get to me. You're jealous of Sarah because she's a fabulous specimen and she threatens you.
She's a little hook-nosed bitch, just like her mother. Her mother's a first-class lady. I should have stayed with her.
Then why didn't you?
God only knows.
God knows, all right. Jesus knows. That you're a hypocrite and a fucking liar. She was frigid and boring and hairy. You wanted smooth white legs, some nice shiksa pussy, come in the Virgin Mary's mouth-wanted it so bad that you took me right in the examining room, all those patients still in the waiting room, and raped me, you bastard!
If any raping went on, it was you that did it-
Raped me and used me. Now you want to give what I earned-my blood money-to your hook-nosed bitch.
Enough, I'm tired. I have to operate early.
You're tired? I'm tired too. Of your bullshit. Giving her all those clothes and that trip-she's already spoiled rotten
She's a great kid and she deserves it. Discussion ended.
She slurps, just like her mother.
Her mother gave me a first-class kid.
And me? What did I give you? Tore myself up-I've never been the same!
Tore yourself? That's a laugh. You had a pelvis someone could drive a truck through.
It tore me, you fucking bastard. What did I give you, you fucking bastard?
A weirdo.
Fuck you!
He's a weird kid, Christina. No two ways about it.
Listen to me, you fucking kike. He's beautiful-that hair, like a Greek god! Those dreamy eyes. A small, straight nose. And tall-he's already your size, going to be taller than you going to be able to beat the shit out of you when I tell him to, to protect his mama.
He's weird, Christina-got all of your weird genes. Ever try to talk to him? Course not-how could you? Too damn pickled-
Fuck you, he's beaut-
Try it some time, you drunken moron. Say hello and catch the weird smile he gives you. He's like you-bizarre, stays in his room all day, all night. God knows what he does in there He's studying. He's an intellectual-it's in his eyes. Studying what? He's flunking out of school, hasn't gotten better than a D in three years. But you wouldn't know about that, would you? The headmaster doesn't call you-nobody calls you because everyone knows you're too drunk to talk. They call me. Teachers, counselors, every one of them thinks he's weird. The headmaster called me last week. In fact, I had to bribe him with a new science lab to keep your beautiful kid from getting booted out.
Did you tell the headmaster he had a crazy, cruel father who never paid any attention to him or to his mother, whom he raped? That his father killed Jesus and wanted to kill his wife, too, so he could fuck candy- stripers? Did you tell him-
No friends, no attention span, sits in class all day staring off into space-your genes, all the way, Christina. God only knows if he can overcome it. The headmaster suggested that he get psychiatric help. I talked to Emil Diefenbach-he works with a few teenagers, said he'd be happy to meet him.
You're not taking him to any kike head-shrinker.
I'll take him anywhere I damn well please. Not my son.
He's a goddamned weirdo, Christina-that's what you gave me a freak. Maybe he can be helped, I don't know. I'm going to give it a shot.
Over my dead body, you filthy, scheming bastard. All you want is to destroy him-poison his brain the way you poisoned mine, take away his share so you can give all of it to your hook-nosed-
Pathetic.
-bitch. I won't let you!
And how do you propose to stop me? I'll get a lawyer. A mother has rights. You're no mother. You're nothing, Christina. You haven't been a mother-or anything else-for a long time. I'm his parent. Jesus put me here to protect him. I'm his parent too. The only sane one he's got. Don't you dare mess with his head, you bastard! Good night, Christina.
He's not yours to mess with, you bastard! There's not an ounce you in him!
Discussion closed, Christina. Get out of my way. Take a good look at him, you bastard! His hair, his nose - there's no kike in him. He's not yours.
If only it were true. Let go of my arm.
