Joe's Apartment

Lily Dougherty:
The lot is completely planted, the, the community is behind it and the flowers just starting to bloom and now all I have to do is show it to my father and show him something good can still come outta the neighborhood and it's worth saving...

Joe:
Do-you-wanna-come-over-to-my-place?

Joe:
I've... got a towel you could use.

Joe:
Oh, my god! Mister, are you alright?

Walter Sh*t:
Two days, seven hours, twenty-three minutes and four seconds. That's how long I've been lying here.

Joe:
Are you O.K.?

Walter Sh*t:
'Course not! I'm an artist!

Walter Sh*t:
I wanted to express how cold, how pitiless this city really is.

Joe:
Nobody touched you for two days?

Walter Sh*t:
Spitting doesn't count.

Ralph Roach:
We know where you live. We LIVE where you live!

Rodney Roach:
Well, you know, we've gotta get Lily back, too.

Ralph Roach:
Forget that. I'm a cockroach, not Santy Claus.

Walter Sh*t:
Oh my God! Joe, It's your mother... and she's dead!

Walter Sh*t:
You see? There's really no way to get a rent-controlled apartment.

Joe F. Grotowski:
No way at all?

Walter Sh*t:
Well, I mean, only if it's like, your mom's apartment, and, y'know, she, like, croaks! (Mrs. Grotowski walks out of the apartment building) Oh, how ya doin', Mrs. Grotowski! (Mrs. Grotowski coughs up her keys, which land in Joe's hand)

Joe F. Grotowski:
Oh my God!

Walter Sh*t:
Joe! Mrs. Grotowski doesn't have any family. You pose as her son, take her apartment!

Joe F. Grotowski:
What?!? I... I couldn't...!

Walter Sh*t:
(faking grief) Oh my God! Joe, it's your mother! And she's dead!

(Joe walks out of the apartment building wearing a suit for a job interview. Suddenly, a bucket of paint drops on top of him.)

Walter Sh*t:
Congratulate me! This is the first of my works to use paint. I call this piece "Instant Minority." I did the whole block!

Joe F. Grotowski:
But people are black, or white, or brown; NOBODY'S PURPLE!

Walter Sh*t:
Periwinkle! You're now the world's smallest minority.

Joe F. Grotowski:
Dammit, Walter, how'm I s'posed to get a job looking like this?

Walter Sh*t:
Know how to play the drums?

Joe F. Grotowski:
No.

Walter Sh*t:
Perfect! Want a job? (man in beanie runs in front of them, turns, and fires ten shots from a handgun) I'm doing a musical performance at Gusto House. You can sit in for my regular drummer: he's dead.

Joe F. Grotowski:
Uhh... sure... what? He's dead?

Walter Sh*t:
(chuckling) Actually, it's a pretty funny story. You see, there's this crack dealer in our building, and so my drummer- (two cops run up and start firing down the street at the man in the beanie, drowning out Walter's story) slit his throat, you know, so badly that his own mom couldn't identify him at the morgue. (laughs) I'm going to miss that guy. So, is it a deal?

Joe F. Grotowski:
Well...

Walter Sh*t:
Excellent!

(After Joe unsuccessfully tries killing the roaches)

Ralph:
(pointing a can of bug spray at Joe's face while he's tied down) Any last words, Joe?

Joe F. Grotowski:
Don't kill me.

Ralph:
(Disappointed) Those the last words, Joe?

Joe F. Grotowski:
(thinking about a letter he wants to write) Dear Mom, I arrived in New York, safe and sound. (a mugger jumps out from behind a bus, beats up Joe and takes some of his belongings) Dear Mom, I arrived in New York, safe and sound... (a second mugger a short distance away does the same thing) Dear Mom, I arrived in New York- (a third mugger does the same thing too) Dear Mom... (the last mugger holds a gun at Joe's head at gunpoint) please send money!

Joe F. Grotowski:
(finding a cockroach on a half-eaten sandwich) That is the biggest, greasiest bug I've ever seen. (The cockroach flies off and Joe shrugs before taking a bite out of the sandwich)

Joe F. Grotowski:
(trying to find the address where he is assigned to collect urinal cakes) East 161st Street and River Avenue? East 161st Street and River Avenue! (he finds it only to realize it's Yankee Stadium)

Joe F. Grotowski:
(after saving Ralph's life from the cat) Yeah? Well, stop following me to work already! For god's sake.

Walter Sh*t:
I need you to fill in for my drummer this Saturday. He's dead.

Walter Sh*t:
(after Joe fails to impress anyone with his drumming skills) I'm sorry, there's not gonna be any rock n roll tonight. This is all that's left! This is all that's left of the rolling thunder of America's heartbeat!

Walter Sh*t:
A rent-controlled apartment is one where the rent's been frozen since like the forties. But places like that are hard to find because no one ever leaves them. Unless their landlord's give them a little help.

Ralph Roach:
Your apartment? I believe we were here first. And we'll be here last too. We've gotta long-time lease on this planet.

Ralph Roach:
Giving up?! What made roaches outlast the dinosaurs? Because roaches never give up! They can stomp us, they can pop us, but they'll never ever stop us! And one day, the Great H bomb's gonna drop, and we'll have the whole stinkin' planet to ourselves!

Ralph Roach:
(trying to distract a cat with a comedy act) Anyone here from New Jersey? What exit? Bada-bing!