Dear Dollfaces, Sailors, Sinners, Angels, All of Ya',
No one ever thought Reno Sweeney was anything more then, well…Reno Sweeney. But hell, I'll tell ya' – I'm a lot more then that, dolls. When you hear 'Reno Sweeney', what do you think of? Be honest with me, sailors. Honesty's the best policy, ain't it? Well, I'll tell ya' everyone – even Billy, even my best little buddy Billy! – hears 'Reno Sweeney' and thinks 'the nightclub singer!' Reno Sweeney, the dancing doll. Reno Sweeney, the sinner…
Oh, can't you imagine it, my sinners? Picture this: every night – every single sinnin' night – it's just me and my angels in the night club, smoke and the stench of alcohol burn through my eyes and nose and all I've got to look forward to is the next day of it. Drunken sinners throw themselves at me like I'm catnip or something. "There ain't nothin' like a dame," them sinners say. Every night. Every damn single sinnin' night. My poor angels. Charity, Chastity, Purity and Virtue. My poor girls. They've got more to 'em then havin' sinners fling themselves at 'em. 'Specially little Virtue. She's so young and far too old all at the same time. Damn those drunk sinners for getting to her.
I used to have more too me then just 'the nightclub singer!', ya' know. I was an Evangelist, when I first started out. And I believed it all, too – but then something happened. And that 'something', honeybunches, is called life. Damn that Hope Harcourt. She's so innocence and sweet as damn pie and looks like a doll and has a perfect little smile plastered on her face all the damn time. Hope Harcourt. I was her, once. Now, don't misunderstand – I am not Hope Harcourt. Not anymore. I'm Reno Sweeney, 'the nightclub singer!', Reno Sweeney, the sinner, remember? Anyways – I was just like her. Once. I was smiley and new and innocent and thought nothing in this sinnin' world would ever hurt me.
So, like I said, dolls – was an Evangelist. That much you know. I practiced what I preached, too, so your probably wondering – how in the world did Reno Sweeney, the Evangelist turn into Reno Sweeney 'the nightclub singer!'? Well, I'll tell ya', sinner. There was a guy, ya' see, as there is a lotta times. I won't get into it because, honestly dearie, it ain't too easy to get into. Let's just say when he left me on the side of the road that day, I was all torn up and black-eyed and bloody nosed and had morphed into Reno Sweeney, the nothing. And that's why I'd like to slap Hope Harcourt across the face n' put some backbone in her. Not that she'll go through what I went through with Billy – he's my Billy, he's not like that – but she still oughta get her pretty, dame head of a' the pretty, dame clouds and wake up soon before life wakes her itself.
Here's the trick, angels – some people, like Virtue, are so young but so old. Some people, like Hope Harcourt, are so old but so young. There ain't no balance in this crazy messed up sinnin' world, take it from Reno Sweeney. Times have changed. Things ain't so good as they once were, dolls. So be weary. Don't sleep, but don't be awake either. Go sailing on the S.S. America – just be sure to put on sunblock in the main party longue under the sun, okay?
So, well'p, that's my story. Moonie wanted me to tell one and I did. He's been all depressed since he found out he's only Public Enemy Number Thirteen. He wants to be Number One, see, like Snake Eyes Johnson. Trust me, sweethearts, you don't wanna meet Snake Eyes Johnson, or be like him for that matter. You might end up left on the side of the road one day, all torn up and black-eyed and bloody-nosed. But I've said too much already. There's a party in the longue tonight, speaking of it. Maybe I'll find out of I really do get a kick from champagne. Oh, God knows. Anything goes.