Lisa: What's this, huh? Trying out your new silver? Less appealing for Daddy, hmm?
Daisy: Look at your own arm, asshole. Lisa: (sarcastically) I'm sick, Daisy, we know that, but there you are in so-called recovery, playing Betty Crocker cut up like a goddamned Virginia Ham. (sits on a chair, holding her cigarette) Help me understand Dais', 'cause I thought you didn't do Valium. Tell me how the safety net is working for you...Tell me that you don't take that blade and drag it across your skin and (sultry) pray for the courage to press down. Tell me how your Daddy helps you cope with that. Illuminate me.
Daisy: My father loves me.
Lisa: (nodding) I bet...with every inch of his manhood.
Daisy: I'm going to sleep now.
(Daisy walks upstairs. Lisa rocks back on chair and takes a drag on the cigarette)
Daisy: Please be gone in the morning. You're just jealous Lisa because I got better, because I was released, because I have a chance and a life.
Lisa: They didn't release you because you're better Daisy. They just gave up. And you call this a life? Taking daddy's money, buying your fucking dollies, and your knick-knacks, and eating his fucking chicken, fattening up like a prize fucking heffer? You changed the scenary, not the situation, and the warden makes house calls. And everybody knows...(beat)...everybody knows (runs tongue across teeth) that he fucks you. But what they don't know, is that you like it. That's right you like it. But hey man that's fine, that's fucking fine, I mean a man is a dick. He's a man; he's a dick. He's a dad, a chicken, a Valium, a speculum, whatever, hmm? You like being Mrs. Randone don't you? Probably all you've ever known.
Daisy: Have fun in Florida.
(Lisa gets up, moves to another chair, takes another drag and giggles)
Lisa: Yeah.