Monologue

The Man Monologue from A Death in Fever Flat

From A Death in Fever Flat by George W. Cronyn

male · dark · 1:06 min

Good-night. What a hole! Like somebody died here and they'd gone off and left it all stand just the way it was. Them hills gits my goat. They're nothin' but blitherin skeletons, and this bunch of shacks they call Fever Flat looks like no more'n a damn bone yard to me. Ugh! it's cold in here. Feel like I was sittin' on my own grave's edge. The Woman You didn't use to be so pernickety, when you was punchin' on the range, Lon.

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