In the drama monologue Funeral Arrangements, Clive gives a speech on stage to a group of people who have come to hear him give an inspiring talk.
CLIVE: I will take you all on at once and I will defeat all of you because when you come from where I come from, when you grow up eating shit, being called dumb, getting closed-fisted beat-downs from your old man on a good day, fighting in the streets for your life against other reckless kids, wearing the same shit clothes because you don’t have another set of shit clothes and being laughed at…when you work to help pay the bills at the age of ten, everyday after school and during summers…when people you love die in front of your face before you’re even a teenager…when you take all of that and so much more and you dare to look me in my eyes, you better look and mean it…you better mean it when you look into my eyes because when I look back into yours, YOU…WILL…CRUMBLE.
My weakest day is your hardest week, you little bitch! You work your forty hours against my hundred and twenty! You’re nothing! What I do in one night’s sleep you can’t even do in a waking year. You know why? YOU’RE SOFT! You’re too weak!
Best piece of advice I can give you now is to go make your funeral arrangements, while you still can. This world will eat you alive because you deserve to be eaten!
Some of you laugh, some of you just stare at me in shock as if the faulty lightbulb in your stupid ass brain just went on. This life isn’t a dress rehearsal. No one is going to hold your itty-bitty hand and feed you chocolate.
Too many of you are too busy playing video games, watching TV, taking naps…you’re not out where you should be, busting your hump and focusing on what truly matters and you know it! That’s the worst part of it all is that you know you are a loser and you still refuse to change…pathetic.
So you time waste…days, weeks, months, years, DECADES go passing by (snaps his fingers) like that! You wake up one morning or evening and realize what a loser you’ve always been and what do you do then? HUH? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU DO WHEN YOU CAN’T GET BACK TWENTY, THIRTY, FORTY, FIFTY YEARS OF YOUR DISGRACEFUL LIFE?!
Peasants…you all make me sick inside. Doesn’t matter what I say standing on this stage…doesn’t matter what message I bring…whether I juggle flaming sticks or hop on one foot…you will remain the same idiotic, wasteful, despicable, shameful self as soon as I walk off this stage.