The scene is a living room. Bill is just down from another drunk and Lois comes home from work and sees him peering out a window. Hanging up her coat, she walks into the room and asks -

"Does it have anything to do with me...your drinking?" asks Lois.

"No, it's not you. It's me."

"Why? Why do you do it to yourself?" she asks.

"I've been standing here all afternoon asking myself the same question. I look out the window and I watch all the normal people walking by and it's funny, I don't think I've ever felt really normal all my life, I mean like other people. I feel different somehow, like I don't really measure up.

"Ever since I can remember, I've had this feeling deep down in my gut...scared. I see people laughing, at ease with each other. I'm on the outside looking in, afraid that I won't be accepted.

"And then overseas, I found that a drink...a few drinks...makes me feel comfortable, like I always want to feel, gives me courage...to be with people, do things...to dream.

"The money, the respect, the success...it was all good for a while, but it never seems enough. I always want doubles of everything to make me alive, worthwhile inside. But then it all began to slip away. I feel cheated, angry, always so full of fear...so I drink...more. And it makes me feel OK for a while. I convince myself that things will turn around tomorrow. Soon that I'll make it all up to you, but it only gets worse.

"I...I keep promising you, others, myself..."That's it!" And I think I mean it, but the guilt and the depression...I can't look in the mirror or at you... especially...especially at you.

"I've stopped believing in everything, people, God, myself. I know it sounds insane, Lois, but in spite of all this, what I want right now more than anything else...is another drink."

© 1989 by Warner Brothers