PAN
The thing about rules is they’re made for the people making them. Do this. Don’t do that. Do what we say. Do it now.
Do it now, Melinda, or we’ll beat your scrawny ass until it don’t work no more. But then something happens, something that makes the rules go away.
The rules that say wear your clothes right side out and go to school, that say don’t take this sign, ‘cause it’s the only one left standing in 200 miles
(Brandishing what’s left of a 65 mph speed limit sign:)
and you just gotta have it, are gone. And you’re free. Air and sunshine free. Do anything you want free. Do everything you want free.
(Beat.)
But then all that chaos and take take taking gets old. And it hits you like a backhand: you need rules. You been missing ‘em and you didn’t even realize it.
Only this time, you’re the one that gets to make them. I’m the one that gets to make them. I’m the Pan, and this is the new Neverland.