Our Lady of 121st Street

by Stephen Adly Guirgis

  ANGEL: It’s a habit, dass all.

  LUCIUS: That ain’t no habit. Cocaine, dass a habit! What you was doin’ was somethin’ else … Know what I think? I think you need to stand up right now and open your heart to Jesus. That pain and anguish and sadness inside ya, it ain’t leavin’ by its own volition. It got a nice home inside a you rent-free! Why the fuck it gonna leave without being kicked out? It’s time to serve them mothahfuckahs their eviction papers, Angel! It’s time to liberate the profound and genteel man that is you. This prison, these cages, they ain’t shit, brother! Inside my heart and my mind, I am sailing on the Pacific on a fine schooner basking in the light of life. You ever been to the Pacific Ocean? It’s real nice, Angel—

  ANGEL: Dat ship you floatin’ on, it ain’t made a nothin’, Lucius.

  LUCIUS: Ain’t sprung a leak in nearly two years, day I found God, right where you standin’.

  ANGEL: And you don’t think that’s juss a little bit convenient?

  LUCIUS: Oh, it’s convenient!! Who tryin’ ta say it ain’t convenient?

  ANGEL: I’m talkin’ ’bout findin’ God in prison.

  LUCIUS: Anyplace where you can have your life resurrected, thass a damn convenient place.

  ANGEL: After you killed eight people—

  Lucius: Thass between me and God.

  ANGEL: And thass very convenient too!

  LUCIUS: Well God juss happens to be a very damn convenient individual, brother! I coulda had God when I was six, sixteen, thirty-two, thirty-five, he wasn’t goin’ nowhere! It happens I didn’t get him till I was forty-two; a suicidal, multiple homicidal drug addict starin’ down at Death Row! Would I have preferred to find him at twenty-five? Hell yeah! But I didn’t! Now why’s everyone wanna turn and blame God for that?

  ANGEL: Ain’t no one blamin’ God here. You killed those people, not God.

  LUCIUS: I ain’t never said I didn’t.

  ANGEL: I doan wanna talk about this!!

  LUCIUS: What’d you do to get in here anyway?

  ANGEL: Dass my business.

  LUCIUS: I know what you did. I seen it on the TV You killed a man.

  ANGEL: I didn’t kill him!

  LUCIUS: Now how’s that?

  ANGEL: Worry ’bout your own shit!

  LUCIUS: You killed him.

  ANGEL: No I didn’t!

  LUCIUS: Man’s dead, ain’t he?

  ANGEL: I juss shot him in the ass.

  LUCIUS: And then what happened?

  ANGEL: Fuck you mean, “Then what happened”? He fell down, screamin’ like a little bitch, they grabbed me—

  LUCIUS: What happened to him?

  ANGEL: He went to the hospital—

  LUCIUS: Then what happened?

  ANGEL: They made a operation on his ass, he was fine—

  LUCIUS: “Fine”?

  ANGEL: I juss shot him in the fuckin’ ass!

  LUCIUS: Then how’d he end up dead, jack?

  ANGEL: Doctors! Fuckin’ medical malpractice! Shit, what’s so fuckin’ hard ‘bout takin’ a bullet out a mothahfuckah’s ass? Ya take a knife, a fuckin’ scalpel, whatever, ya open the ass, ya find the shit. What’s the “complication” ’bout that? “Complication”? Juss open up the ass, whatever’s not ass, take the shit out! How’s it my fault some drunk mothahfuckah can’t tell the difference between a bullet and a man’s ass?!

  LUCIUS: So the doctor was drunk?

  ANGEL: Prolly! You know how them mothahfuckahs be!

  LUCIUS: So, how’d the man die then?

  ANGEL: Like I said, “complication”! First doctor—mo-fuckin’ Dr. Dolittle—he obviously ain’t did the job right, they had ta bring the mothahfuckah back, put him on the operatin’ table, “simple procedure,” but the mothahfuckah dies!

  LUCIUS: Die from what?

  ANGEL: Heart attack! How the fuck? I mean, this mothahfuckah, Reverend Kim, he say he the Son a God! How’s a real Son a God gonna let himself go out like that?! ‘Cuz if I was God, and I sent my son down here to do a job, and he came back talkin’ ’bout “Yeah, Pop, they shot my ass, and, my heart, it juss couldn’t take it,” I’d slap the mothahfuckah upside his head! I’d tell him, “You better look in the mirror kid; now I gotta send your sister down to do a man’s job!” Mothahfuckah oughta be ashamed of himself! They hung Jesus from a cross! Banged nails into his feet and hands—

  LUCIUS: But you ain’t shot Jesus’ ass, did ya?

  ANGEL: Hell no!

  LUCIUS: You shot a man.

  ANGEL: And I’d do it again.

  LUCIUS: Not the Son a God, a man. Man died.

  ANGEL: And dass my fault?!

  LUCIUS: Did you shoot a man?

  ANGEL: Get the fuck out my face.

  LUCIUS: Did he die?

  ANGEL: Not ’cuz a me!

  LUCIUS: If ya didn’t shoot him, would he be dead now?

  ANGEL: You killed eight people, mothahfuckah! Who you talkin’ to?!

  LUCIUS: You shot a man. The man died. Ain’t no man no more.

  ANGEL: But—

  LUCIUS: But what? Dead is dead, son. I know you know that.

  ANGEL: It’s not my fault.

  LUCIUS: Meaning what?

  ANGEL: Meaning it ain’t my fuckin’ fault!

  LUCIUS: Now that’s juss plain illogical. That’s like me tellin’ you dat a hippopotamus knows how ta fry himself some eggs.

  ANGEL: That man deserved to die.

  LUCIUS: No human man deserves ta die!

  ANGEL: Why, ’cuz “God” say so?

  LUCIUS: Dass right.

  ANGEL: When exactly did “God” say that shit?

  LUCIUS: Bible say—

  ANGEL: Fuck the Bible! Bible ain’t no autobiography, man! “God” didn’t write the shit! Buncha mothahfuckahs wrote that shit. Apostles didn’t write no Gospel, and Jesus, that mothahfuckah never wrote one damn word! Not even a fuckin’ postcard! Dass a fact! Ain’t my fault the man died, but he dead now, so what? He juss one man outta a billion, people die every day.

  LUCIUS: Ain’t murdered every day.

  ANGEL: Nah, they gotta run into you first to earn dat distinction.

  LUCIUS: Or you!

  ANGEL: I did somethin’ had to be done!

  LUCIUS: Then accept it! You man enough to do it, then be man enough ta stand behind it! But you can’t really stand behind it, ’cuz you know it’s wrong! You know it!

  ANGEL: Do you know it’s wrong ta kill a man?

  LUCIUS: ’Course I do.

  ANGEL: Then why you got lawyers fightin’ extradition for you?

  LUCIUS: I’m gonna do life here in New York State anyway! I pled guilty. I took responsibility! Why I gotta go to a place where they tryin’ to kill me?

  ANGEL: I thought you was straight wit’ God, man?

  LUCIUS: I am.

  ANGEL: If you straight, then why you gotta fear death, mothahfuckah? Alls you gotta do is die, then you gonna be in Heaven wit’ “God,” right? Ain’t that the ultimate goal? If that shit is true like you say, then what’s the fuckin’ problem then? God forgives you, right? You juss stood there in my face an’ toal me that shit. So what’s the dilly, yo? You try to tell me you floatin’ on the Pacific wit’ your sailor cap on?! Dass bullshit! You don’t act like no inner-peace mothahfuckah I ever met! You act angry and crazy.

  LUCIUS: I’m in prison, jack!

  ANGEL: You killed eight people yo, your ass should be in prison! Tell me: “Be a man”! Why doan you be a man, go die like ya supposed to? You gots the God Insurance, what else you need?

  LUCIUS: Ain’t got no more time ta waste on imbeciles—

  ANGEL: You afraid ta die ’cuz your ass know only two things gonna happen when you do die: Either nuthin’, or somethin’ bad! Ain’t no God, ain’t no light!

  (VALDEZ enters.)

  VALDEZ: Peanut chew?

  ANGEL: Take me outta here, Valdez!

  VALDEZ: Away from the cage, convict.

  (VALDEZ enters cage, cuffs ANGEL.)

  ANGEL
: I ain’t no convict!

  VALDEZ: Not yet.

  ANGEL: Not yet, not ever!

  VALDEZ: Dat ain’t what I hear.

  ANGEL: Never!

  VALDEZ: Spittin’ in the wind, son!

  ANGEL: Rather spit in it than lissen to it!

  LUCIUS: “You could cast out the devil, but ya can’t cast out God”!

  ANGEL: I ain’t got God and neither do you.

  LUCIUS: I’m a perfect child a God and so are you. He got a plan for us all! Valdez too!

  ANGEL: Hurry up and die, mothahfuckah!

  VALDEZ: You know what, Droopy Dog? I’m beginning to like you.

  Scene 2: Visitations Area: Rikers Island. Two days later.

  MARY JANE: “God’s fucking Plan”?

  ANGEL: I’m juss sayin’—

  MARY JANE: Saying what? That God’s plan is you should spend the rest of your life in prison? What kinda plan is that?! It’s the District Attorney’s plan, Angel, that’s whose plan it is, not God’s! What is wrong with you?

  ANGEL: I didn’t say I believed the shit.

  MARY JANE: Well, hey—how very skeptical of you!

  ANGEL: I think Lucius was juss—

  MARY JANE: “Lucius”? What, you’re on a first-name basis now?

  ANGEL: I see the mothahfuckah every day. He the only one I got up there—

  MARY JANE: Oh, well then, by all means, mingle! Mingle with the deranged psychotic serial killer!

  ANGEL: See, he ain’t really like that—

  MARY JANE: What?

  ANGEL: I know—

  MARY JANE: Do you have any idea who Lucius Jenkins is?

  ANGEL: I know, he killed eight people, right?

  MARY JANE: Eight that we know of!

  ANGEL: He told me eight.

  MARY JANE: He told you eight? What does that mean?! “Case closed, Lucius told Angel eight”? And what, eight’s not enough for you?

  ANGEL: I hear you, all right. Let’s juss get back ta business.

  MARY JANE: Maybe Lucius should be your lawyer!

  ANGEL: Yo, I was juss makin’ conversation!

  MARY JANE: When you’re acquitted, Angel, when we’re sitting in a bar together drinking beer and eating chicken wings, then make conversation! Unless you wanna just have a conversation now, exchange recipes, talk philosophy, forget the whole thing!

  ANGEL: You tryin’ ta back out now?

  MARY JANE: Are you?

  ANGEL: Yo, I’m here, Mary Jane.

  MARY JANE: I am putting my career on the line for you, Angel, my vocation! So you better be damn sure your head’s screwed back on before I even think about putting you on that witness stand and suborning perjury!

  ANGEL: I’m down wit’ the program and I’m gonna thank you till my dyin’ day, believe me.

  MARY JANE: I could lose my license! They could toss me in jail!

  ANGEL: I’m already in jail and I’m gonna get out any way I can, swear ta God!

  MARY JANE: D.A. asks you a question, what do you do?

  ANGEL: Pause five seconds.

  MARY JANE: Then what?

  ANGEL: Answer the shit.

  MARY JANE: Answer how?

  ANGEL: “Yes,” “No,” or “I don’t know.”

  MARY JANE: And then what?

  ANGEL: Stop.

  MARY JANE: Stop what?

  ANGEL: Stop talking.

  MARY JANE: Why?

  ANGEL: ’Cuz I might say some shit I shouldn’t say.

  MARY JANE: What if it needs to be said?

  ANGEL: I don’t know—

  MARY JANE: Do you wanna spend the rest of your life in prison?!

  ANGEL: Whadda you think?

  MARY JANE: I don’t know, Angel! What should I think?

  ANGEL: I wanna get the fuck outta here.

  MARY JANE: God won’t have a problem with that?

  ANGEL: Ask fuckin’ God.

  MARY JANE: I’m asking you.

  ANGEL: Fuck God! He ain’t got nuthin’ to do wit’ this.

  MARY JANE: How do you know that?

  ANGEL: I don’t know—

  MARY JANE: I can’t work with “I don’t know”! If I’m gonna put you on the stand and risk my job, then I need to know that you know!

  ANGEL: I know.

  MARY JANE: No you don’t.

  ANGEL: I do know, really, truss me—

  MARY JANE: It’s not about trust—

  ANGEL: Aaight, look: that mothahfuckah Reverend Kim, he was a false prophet, fuckin’ heretic, cashed in on God’s name, fucked up not just Joey, but a lot a fuckin’ people, right? God should understand why I brought the mothahfuckah down, and if he don’t, then … fuck him! I’m juss a ordinary man, I ain’t no martyr, and if that’s God’s plan for me, then you know what? Fuck the damn plan! And thass how I know, all right?

  MARY JANE: You gotta problem with lying?

  ANGEL: I love to lie, tell me what to say.

  MARY JANE: Tell me a lie.

  ANGEL: About what?

  MARY JANE: Anything. Lie. Right now.

  ANGEL: Ah-aight … I invented electricity.

  MARY JANE: Stop messing around!

  ANGEL: I ain’t messin’ around. I invented the shit!

  MARY JANE: Do you know how electricity works?