Something I did for English 12. One of our options for our project was to rewrite the ending of the horrendously monotonous "A Doll's House" into something better. So I did.
Nora: (In everyday dress, lighting up cigarette) Sit down, Torvald. We have much to talk about.
Torvald: You alarm me Nora! Talk? Of what? And what is this travesty? Nora my dear you’ve never once smoked cigarettes. And Marlboros? Really? They taste like complete arse. I don’t understand you.
Nora: No, you don’t, Torvald. You don’t understand me and you never truly have. Nor have I, for that matter, until recently. You see, Torvald, I’ve been doing something lately that I should have started a long time ago. I’m thinking. And it’s opened my eyes to the truth of our marriage, and the truth of you. It must be said.
Torvald: The truth of our marriage? And I? My silly little platypus, if there is any truth of those is it not that our marriage is alive and well, as we are happy and prosperous people who dearly love each other as bound to us by unbreakable holy matrimony? Surely you think not otherwise.
Nora: Dude what the hell, no, seriously look at this. We’re like freakin’ dolls, man. Everything about us is so fake and superficial and formulaic. You’re clearly a control freak that thinks of me and women in general as inferior and stupid bimbos that can’t do anything on their own. You hate a guy because he calls you by your first name. Your head is shoved so far up where the sun don’t shine and you act like a complete tool. We’ve become fake plastic people, Torvald. Remember college? We were really wasted like no other when we first met at that party, your nickname was “Keg stand”, it was wild. But now look at us. I treat the kids like they’re dogs, or dolls, or dog dolls, they’re like play things, like I am to you. We’re so fake. We haven’t even had a serious conversation in the entire eight years we’ve been married. A serious conversation, Torvald, one where we actually express our feelings and emotions and dreams and thoughts to each other in complete and total honesty. All we do is BS about buying worthless crap and making money and looking like rich snobs. All the fancy bank money in the world couldn’t buy you enough compassion to pass as a human being with actual blood pumping through his veins, let alone a real man. We don’t even sleep in the same bed, what’s wrong with you? And your moustache looks ridiculous. And what’s with the names? Squirrel? Songbird? Skylark? Whatever that crazy last one was? It’s just weird. How about Nora? Like, my actual freakin’ birth name, Nora. Our marriage is a sham, it isn’t real. I’ve been dumbed down into an incredibly soulless way of thinking, thanks to you, and it’s time I go out on my own and figure things out for myself. I have to do what’s right for me. I’m leaving you Torvald. Or rather, you’re leaving me.
Torvald: My little ill-minded-
Nora: Shut up.
Nora pulls out a 12-gauge shotgun, cocks it, and blasts Torvald’s face into a crater of skull, brains and bloody flesh that spills out onto his suit and on the floor like water overflowing in a sink. Fragments of bone and teeth speckle random bits of the mess, the only barely recognizable remains of him being part of his eyes, mouth, and one ugly moustache. His lifeless corpse collapses to the floor with a loud thud. The oak wood paneling is painted red with thick slobs of tissue that creep and ooze from the cavern of where his face once was. Nora takes one last drag of her cigarette and flicks it into his blood. She tosses her wedding ring into the fissure of his face and makes her way to the door and opens it, but pauses. She turns around.
Nora: Oh by the way, Marlboros are delicious. (She walks out and shuts the door behind her)
I got an 80% on it, lol.
Best ending evur, lol, x]
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