MOONY: Crazy, huh? Sure them apes think I’m nuts. I’ll tell you why, it’s because I got some original ideas about some things.

JANE: Original, yeah, you’re so stinkin’ original it ain’t even funny! Believe me if I’d a-known—

MOONY: I look at things diff’runt— [Struggling for self-justification.] —that’s all. Other guys—you know how it is—they don’t care. They eat, they drink, they sleep with their women. What the hell do they care? The sun keeps rising and Saturday night they get paid!—Okay, okay, okay! Some day they kick off. What of it? They got kids to grow up an’ take their places. Work in the plant. Eat, drink, sleep with their women—an’ get paid Saturday night!—But me— [He laughs bitterly.] My God, Jane, I want something more than just that!

JANE: What more do you want, you poor fool? There ain’t nothing more than just that— Of course if you was rich and could afford a big house and a couple of limoozines—

MOONY [disgustedly]: Aw, you—you don’t even get what I’m aimin’ at, Jane! [He sinks wearily down on checkered linoleum and winds arms about his knees.] You never could get it. It’s something that ain’t contagious.

JANE: Well, I’m glad for that. I’d rather have smallpox.

MOONY: I found a guy once that did. An old duck up on the river. He got his back hurt, couldn’t work, was waiting to be shipped home— We got drunk one night an’ I spilled how I felt about things. He said, “Sure. You ain’t satisfied. Me neither. We want something more than what life ever gives to us, kid.”

JANE: It gives you what you can get.

MOONY: Oh, I dunno. I look at my hands sometimes, I look an’ I look at ’em. God, but they look so damn funny!

JANE: You look at your hands! Such crap!

MOONY: They’re so kind of empty an’ useless! You get what I mean? I feel like I oughta be doin’ something with these two han’s of mine besides what I’m doin’ now—runnin’ bolts through an everlastin’ chain!

JANE: Here’s something. [Flings him a dish rag.] Try holdin’ this for a change in them wonderful hands——Mop that milk up off the floor!

MOONY [idly twisting the cloth]: An’ then sometimes I think it ain’t my han’s that’re empty. It’s something else inside me that is.

JANE: Yeh, it’s probably yer brain. Will you get that milk swabbed up?

MOONY: It’s already swabbed! [Rises and stretches.] Moony’s a free agent. He don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. Live an’ die, says Moony, that’s all there is to it! [He tosses the wet rag back to the sink.]

JANE [straightening things in a lifeless, ineffectual way]: Believe me, if I’d a-known you was gonna turn out this way, I’d a-kept my old job. I’d a-said to Mr. O’Connor, “Sure thing! Go ahead an’ get me that chinchilla coat.”

MOONY: Sure you would. I know it, sweetheart.

JANE [beginning to sniffle]: What’s the good of a girl trying to keep herself straight? The way things turns out, a good proposition like Mr. O’Connor could offer would be the best thing. But no! I had such delusions about cha! You talked so swell! You made such a lovely impression that time we first met!