Mom? Dad? You made me do this. I wanted...

Mom? Dad? You made me do this. I wanted to kill you but I didn't want you dead. How else could I tell you what's on my mind without you interrupting? Mom? How are you singing now if you're dead? Stop it. You used to sing that to me when I couldn't sleep. Stop it, please? Don't I have enough pain? Isn't it tough enough that everybody looks at me like I'm a broken trash bag? Where do I fit in? Where can I go and not have anybody on my back? At school, the teachers are giving this test and that paper, and don't do this, and don't do that. Then I come home, and you always find something I didn't do, and I'm never good enough. I guess I'm just sick of you being disappointed in me all the time.

Remember when you taught me the outfielder's glove, dad, and I caught a high-fly in the Little League championship game and you carried me off the field? Why can't it be like that?

Why's it so easy to talk to you now?

Anyway, thanks for listening.

Mastrosimone, William. Bang Bang You're Dead.

Outside link to full script for Bang Bang Your Dead