Setting: Porch, outside Evan's front door.
(Lights up, Molly approaches Evan's door, it is the door of a wealthy man, she looks impressed, the rest of the house matches, she rings the doorbell, long pause, door opens)
Molly: Hello. Hello, Mr. Mewsen?
Molly: It's Molly. Molly Ressick...
Evan: I'm sorry?
Molly: From Rewriters Unbound? You called about your story.
Evan: Ahhh, yes... sorry, forgot about that.. the storyteller place, right.
Molly: We prefer to think of it as story facilitation.
Evan: Great, great... call me Evan.
Molly: So, Evan, what did you want to work on today?
Evan: Well... (closes door behind him) Let's talk out here. (they sit in two patio chairs, Molly gets her notebook and pen ready) I'd invite you inside, but I don't want to ruin the surprise for the kids, and frankly, it's a little messy in there.
Molly: You have children? (dutifully begins taking notes)
Evan: Yes, two, ten and twelve.
Molly: (taking down information) What are their names?
Evan: Ten and Twelve.
Molly: And their names?
Evan: The girl is Ten, and the boy is Twelve.
Molly: Ohh... wait... what?
Evan: Their mother thought it would be fun to name them after the number of times we had had sex in our marriage at the point of conception.
Molly: Ohh... ummm...
Evan: Nice reminder of my failure as a man, she would always say.
Molly: Ahhh... how... old are they?
Evan: Ten is twelve, and Twelve is five.
Molly: Five... okay...
Evan: Though I've always insisted Twelve should be Eleven, and seven years old.
Molly: (trying to write it all out) Yes...
Evan: She insists that I got drunk one night and accidentally impregnated her.
Molly: Accidentally impreg...
Evan: She says I was jerking off, and she fell.
Molly: Ohh... ouch.
Evan: I think she's making it all up, but my best friend, Tony, says that's exactly what happened. I trust Tony.
Molly: Tony.... (pause, she looks up from her writing) Evan, is this the story you want to tell today?
Evan: Well, not really. (pause)
Molly: We can rewrite any details of any story you want to tell. Many people use our services to write redemptive stories about personal struggles they've had.
Evan: Yeah, I've heard good things about you... your company, that is. You kind of change the past for people.
Molly: Well, the standard dislaimer, of course, is that we are not into science fiction... that is, we can write out your story in a science fiction style, but we don't actually change the past or alter time, or anything like that.
Evan: Right, right, no, I knew that...
Molly: We're more along the lines of personal coaches; sort of intrapersonal spin doctors.
Evan: Yeah, I like that.
Molly: We write your best life. That's our motto.
Evan: Fabulous... you'll write a better version of my story, by rewriting the worst elements of it; sort of like that?
Molly: Exactly like that. At Rewriters Unbound, we like to think that you'll like to think what we rewrite about you is true. The power of positive framing.
Evan: Alright, this is going to be exactly what I need.
Molly: Where do you want your story to start?
Evan: This morning, after the kids were off to school. I came back home from work to surprise Glory. That's my wife.
Molly: Lots of creative names, that'll be good for the story.
Evan: Great. I snuck up on her in the kitchen and said "Surprise!"
Molly: Okay, hold on a moment... (writes very quickly) Alright, go on!
Evan: She was so startled! The first thrust went right through her mouth, out the back of her neck, then I just kept stabbing and stabbing until...
Molly: (has stopped writing for obvious reasons) Is this some sort of joke?
Evan: No, no, no. Not at all, but, see, I was hoping you could make it funnier, you know, in the rewrite. 'Cause I love it in those action movies how the hero always says something really funny and completely unpredictable right after he kills the bad guy.
Molly: I... uhh... Evan...
Evan: Yeah, so I was hoping you could make the whole murder a little snazzier, a little more flash, because, really, after the fourth or fifth stab, it got pretty dull. I know, like, maybe you could knock down the number of stab wounds from around seventy, to something closer to ten or fifteen... I 'll feel a whole lot more efficient that way, Molly.
Molly: Ummm... you know, I should really...
Evan: Oh, and, puhh-leeze, lessen the amount of blood, not only did it stain the woodwork, but it also just makes me look sloppy about the whole thing. Like I wasn't anticipating that kind of mess... just between you and me, Molly, I wasn't, but rewriting it so it looks like I was will really make me feel better about things.
Molly: Had an appointment... meeting with my editor... and... (lots of frightened laughter, she is now carefully getting up, but he is blocking her exit with his chair)
Evan: Ohhh... and, Molly, could you also make sure that the garbage disposal in the story is more industrial-strength... 'cause now I'm in the awkward position of getting a repair man in the house with half a femur stuck in that thing.
Molly: Really, just not able to stay... I'm terribly sorry... but, you know, deadlines, ahh, I mean schedules, schedules...
Evan: And then, at the end, make sure you put in a part about how I, heroically, will make a new life with some beautiful young woman, and we will have sex more than eleven or twelve times and have children that will have normal names like, Kate and Bill and Molly, Jr.
(Molly freezes in abject horror)
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