Tyler Esparza

One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest Monologue

Been awhile since I sat down like this and really talked to anybody. Not sure why, but I get
the feelin I should apologize for that. Just seems right. Yknow it sure has been a long time
since I left that damn asylum. Now that I think about it I guess thats why Im apologizin;
heda never wanted me to stop talkin. Not after everything he done to get me to start up
after all those years a silence. But to have McMurphy for an example wasnt easy for me; I
felt like I could never be like him, I could never be as big as him. Like I always said he was
big in the way he walked, big in the way he talked, big in every goddamn way you can think
of. Aint nothing that coulda took him down but one of his own, cuz heda never expected it.
R.P. McMurphy... that aint the way he deserved to go... snuffed out in his prime. But you
know what? I think he won that bet. That bet he made the day he was born onto this Earth.
That one we all make, whether or not we ever become aware of it: his spirit, his will lives on
in all of those who made it out of that ward alive. He beat Ratched, and aint no one before
or after him will ever be able to say that. He won the bet to be remembered. But enough
about him for now; we all know exactly what that man was like. I do wonder what happened
to the others. The voluntaries like Harding, Sefelt and Fredrickson or Scanlon, the only one
who couldnt have left... I hope they all made good lives for themselves. Me? Ive been
travellin, trying not to stay in one place very long so that damn Fog could never catch me
again. First place I stopped once I got off that ward was Columbia, my old home, to see if
anyone had stayed. I had been away a long time, you know. Well as it turns out some of the
guys did stay. They stayed right up until the day they kicked the old bucket and now their

graves rest up on top of that dam. Indians sure are stubborn when we want to be; Papa
taught me that a long time ago, back when that place was a reservation instead of a
reservoir. After that I made my way up towards Canada, but decided Id throw my lot in
with the States a little longer, figured they owed me some since I been in the Army and
what not. Seen lots of things in all my travels, but not one can match those few weeks on
the ward with big Mac. You know through all this time, though, I realized somethin; the
Combine aint all bad, and neither was Nurse Ratched. See I always used to think the
Combine was tryin to hold us down, make sure we was all exactly how they wanted us to
be, but now I see that aint quite right. Sure they was tryin to control us to some end, but it
was all to keep us in line, make sure there was never too much trouble to handle. Thats
what Ive come to realize about the Combine, of course maybe I just been imagining it the
whole time... You know I just thought of somethin: if the Combine really aint bad, then
what was McMurphy fightin for? Spose the closest I can to explainin its like this: In war
you aint fightin for your country; youre fightin for the men in the trenches next to you.
Anyway, I gotta apologize again; the Fog did finally catch me. My old bones just couldnt run
from it anymore. I can see it right now, creepin up on me. Aint nothing left to do but let it
take me over for good. Its blocked out my entire vision now, cant see a damn thing no
more. Wait a minute, its fading now. Its fadin, but, theres more fog... No that aint fog, its
clouds! And theres McMurphy! Whats he doin here? Theres Harding too, and Billy and
Cheswick, Papa and Scanlon and Martini. Why, hell, even Nurse Ratched and Doc Spiveys
here. Theyre all playin poker together. Now hold on theyre tryin to say somethin to me,
and Macs runnin over. Sounds like theyre happy to see me. My God its been forever, Mac

says to me, but hells bells if it aint the bull goose looney that busted outta that goddamn
joint.