Detente
Cast:
Bip
Flip
Setting: A................. bare stage.
(Lights up, Bip and Flip facing each about two feet apart, they stand, impassive for quite a while)
Bip: Go.
(motionless some more, Flip is clearly thinking what to say, finally)
Flip: What?
(more standing, long, long pause)
Bip: Now.
(repeat)
Flip: Wait.
(repeat)
Bip: Flip?
Flip: (nodding) Bip?
Bip: (nopping) Yes?
(beat)
Flip: What's this game called again?
Bip: Peace.
Flip: Right.
(long pause)
Bip: I'm winning.
Flip: Are you?
Bip: Oh, yeah.
Flip: Crap.
(long pause)
Bip: Way ahead.
Flip: Damn.
(long pause)
Bip: It's your turn.
Flip: Oh.
(long pause)
Bip: Good move.
Flip: Ummm... Bip?
Bip: Yeah?
Flip: When does the game end?
Bip: As soon as one of us wins.
Flip: Right.
(long pause)
Flip: Ummm... Bip?
Bip: Yeah?
Flip: How will we know when one of us has won?
Bip: Hard to say.
(long pause)
Flip: Bip?
Bip: Yeah?
Flip: I don't like this game.
Bip: You sure?
Flip: Yeah.
Bip: That's weird.
Flip: Why?
(beat)
(Bip quickly decks Flip with a crushing right hook to the jaw, Flip collapses to the ground)
Bip: Because you just won.
(Flip slowly struggles to his feet shaking his jaw, back into position)
Flip: I won?
Bip: Yep.
Flip: Awesome! Let's play again!
(beat)
Bip: You kidding? I'm exhausted.
(Bip walks off, Flip stands there rubbing his jaw as lights fade)
(end)
January 18, 2007
January 17, 2007
A Play A Day #279
The Ill-Advised Theater Company Presents
Cast:
Soldiers 1-4
Setting: The field of battle.
SCENE 1
(Loud sounds of explosions and machine gun fire, four soldier stumble on stage, one is being pulled by the other three, he moans and groans throughout the play)
Soldier 1: Get'em in, behind those rocks, now! Now!
(lots of adlib and shouting, they pull make it to the rocks and sit down on the upstage side of the wall, the audience cannot see them)
Soldier 2: What do we do now?
1: We wait. Chopper will be here in five.
Soldier 3: Bean's hurt pretty bad, guys...
2: We know, man, we know... talk to him.
3: You talk; I'm checking the advance.
2: Shit, we're fuckin' dead. Alone, out here... how many of 'em?
3: (who has just peeked over the wall) at least fifty, maybe more.
1: Guys, stay with Bean... we wait for...
2: Fuck! Fifty? Shit! Shit!
1: Hey! Stay with Bean... we've got a chance. We've got enough shit to throw at 'em to cover our asses for...
2: No fuckin' way! We...
1: Shut up, Jones! Shut it!
2: We ain't got a chance... them fuckers are...
1: Shut the fuck up, Jones! We have a chance... it's called the fuck and run...
3: Jones, we gotta do it... we gotta...
1: What other option do we have, Jones?
2: Fuck...
3: The fuck and run.
1: Soon as the chopper's in their range, the grenades go, then the flashbangs... the smoke, then Jones, you drag Bean and we follow in retreat, unloading...
3: The fuck and run.
1: The chopper'll strafe too.
(Chopper sound, coming in)
2: I hear it, guys...
1: Loaded?
3: Set.
2: Close enough?
1: Wait... wait...
3: Fuck and run, boys! Fuck and...
1: Now!
(They stand up, toss grenades into the audience, they explode, killing most of the audience, then flash grenades, then smoke screens, then firing their machine guns blindly into the audince as they back off the stage, killing many more.)
SCENE 2
(There is no second scene.)
(end)
Cast:
Soldiers 1-4
Setting: The field of battle.
SCENE 1
(Loud sounds of explosions and machine gun fire, four soldier stumble on stage, one is being pulled by the other three, he moans and groans throughout the play)
Soldier 1: Get'em in, behind those rocks, now! Now!
(lots of adlib and shouting, they pull make it to the rocks and sit down on the upstage side of the wall, the audience cannot see them)
Soldier 2: What do we do now?
1: We wait. Chopper will be here in five.
Soldier 3: Bean's hurt pretty bad, guys...
2: We know, man, we know... talk to him.
3: You talk; I'm checking the advance.
2: Shit, we're fuckin' dead. Alone, out here... how many of 'em?
3: (who has just peeked over the wall) at least fifty, maybe more.
1: Guys, stay with Bean... we wait for...
2: Fuck! Fifty? Shit! Shit!
1: Hey! Stay with Bean... we've got a chance. We've got enough shit to throw at 'em to cover our asses for...
2: No fuckin' way! We...
1: Shut up, Jones! Shut it!
2: We ain't got a chance... them fuckers are...
1: Shut the fuck up, Jones! We have a chance... it's called the fuck and run...
3: Jones, we gotta do it... we gotta...
1: What other option do we have, Jones?
2: Fuck...
3: The fuck and run.
1: Soon as the chopper's in their range, the grenades go, then the flashbangs... the smoke, then Jones, you drag Bean and we follow in retreat, unloading...
3: The fuck and run.
1: The chopper'll strafe too.
(Chopper sound, coming in)
2: I hear it, guys...
1: Loaded?
3: Set.
2: Close enough?
1: Wait... wait...
3: Fuck and run, boys! Fuck and...
1: Now!
(They stand up, toss grenades into the audience, they explode, killing most of the audience, then flash grenades, then smoke screens, then firing their machine guns blindly into the audince as they back off the stage, killing many more.)
SCENE 2
(There is no second scene.)
(end)
January 16, 2007
A Play A Day #278
Tropical Depression
Cast:
Donna
Nina
Setting: A hospital room.
(Lights up, Donna talking to Nina, both sitting on a hospital bed.)
Donna: You didn't need to, really.
Nina: Donna, I'm your friend; this is what friends do.
D: I know.
N: I had to be here.
D: Thank you.
N: I couldn't miss this.
D: It means a lot to me, after everything and...
N: I know.
D: I wasn't...
N: I know.
D: I didn't expect anyone to visit.
N: Why not?
D: Well, I've been a complete recluse for the past four months, Nina...
N: Ohh... don't worry...
D: I didn't even answer my phone for the last three weeks...
N: You were in a dark place; what could you do?
D: I could have reached out... to people, to my friends... that might have worked.
N: (hugging her close) It might have helped, but you don't know.
D: It would have helped, such great friends. I didn't talk to you or Trish or Kat.
N: Shhhhh... don't worry about that now.
D: I probably wouldn't be here if I had...
N: You need to be here.
D: I don't know how it happened, that's the scary thing. Four months ago, I was fine, a little glum, Bobby had left, but, you know, I was there... I was okay.
N: Yeah, you were, we went to Dorinda's Palace for that show.
D: (laughs) Ohh God, I had blocked that from my mind.
N: Mmmmm... not me... (laughs) Some of those men... grrrr...
D: Yeah, I suppose, but then I just dropped off the...
N: Almost as cute as the two spa boys I saw coming in here.
D: Yeah?
N: Ohhhh, Donna, I was a little weak for a while.
D: Where'd you see these guys?
N: Out by the pool, just as I was parking the car.
D: Where'd you park?
N: Right outside the front doors.
D: But... did you... pool?
N: That was some very fine flesh, looked like fun for us, if we play our cards right.
D: Play what? Nina, what pool?
N: The one right near the entrance. Huge thing.
D: I... I never saw a pool.
N: Oh, it's there...this is one amazing place they bring you.
D: Yeah... uhhh... it's nice... but...
N: Almost makes me wish I tried to kill myself! (laughs, then realizes she shouldn't have said that) Oops, sorry, Sweetie, that was a stupid thing to say, I'm sorry.
D: It's okay... I just...
N: I'm just so impressed that they sent you here... (motions toward the window) I mean you have the ocean right outside, the palm trees swaying, smell that warm salt air...
D: Uhhh... Nina?
N: So nice of them to let me stay with you even if it's only for a few days, but I figured, hey, she's my best friend, I'll take the time off work, buy the plane ticket and see the sites. So, here we are!
D: Nina?
N: It's just fabulous. I've never been to Florida before, especially not a place like the Keys. So warm.
D: Nina! It's Muncie! It's February! What are you...
N: So, you've got, what, therapy in the morning? And then... shopping!!
D: Nina! Stop!
N: We are going to have so much fun! A little retail therapy, margaritas in the sand, with the spa boys!
D: I'm here until they release me! It's a state facility. I'm a danger to myself!
N: Don't worry, Donna. I'll talk to some people, we'll cure this thing, girlfriend-to-girlfriend...
(lights start fading)
D: No, Nina... This isn't funny!
N: Ice cream, massages, new lingerie, some Sex-on-the-Beaches and sex, on the beaches...
(lights out)
(end)
Cast:
Donna
Nina
Setting: A hospital room.
(Lights up, Donna talking to Nina, both sitting on a hospital bed.)
Donna: You didn't need to, really.
Nina: Donna, I'm your friend; this is what friends do.
D: I know.
N: I had to be here.
D: Thank you.
N: I couldn't miss this.
D: It means a lot to me, after everything and...
N: I know.
D: I wasn't...
N: I know.
D: I didn't expect anyone to visit.
N: Why not?
D: Well, I've been a complete recluse for the past four months, Nina...
N: Ohh... don't worry...
D: I didn't even answer my phone for the last three weeks...
N: You were in a dark place; what could you do?
D: I could have reached out... to people, to my friends... that might have worked.
N: (hugging her close) It might have helped, but you don't know.
D: It would have helped, such great friends. I didn't talk to you or Trish or Kat.
N: Shhhhh... don't worry about that now.
D: I probably wouldn't be here if I had...
N: You need to be here.
D: I don't know how it happened, that's the scary thing. Four months ago, I was fine, a little glum, Bobby had left, but, you know, I was there... I was okay.
N: Yeah, you were, we went to Dorinda's Palace for that show.
D: (laughs) Ohh God, I had blocked that from my mind.
N: Mmmmm... not me... (laughs) Some of those men... grrrr...
D: Yeah, I suppose, but then I just dropped off the...
N: Almost as cute as the two spa boys I saw coming in here.
D: Yeah?
N: Ohhhh, Donna, I was a little weak for a while.
D: Where'd you see these guys?
N: Out by the pool, just as I was parking the car.
D: Where'd you park?
N: Right outside the front doors.
D: But... did you... pool?
N: That was some very fine flesh, looked like fun for us, if we play our cards right.
D: Play what? Nina, what pool?
N: The one right near the entrance. Huge thing.
D: I... I never saw a pool.
N: Oh, it's there...this is one amazing place they bring you.
D: Yeah... uhhh... it's nice... but...
N: Almost makes me wish I tried to kill myself! (laughs, then realizes she shouldn't have said that) Oops, sorry, Sweetie, that was a stupid thing to say, I'm sorry.
D: It's okay... I just...
N: I'm just so impressed that they sent you here... (motions toward the window) I mean you have the ocean right outside, the palm trees swaying, smell that warm salt air...
D: Uhhh... Nina?
N: So nice of them to let me stay with you even if it's only for a few days, but I figured, hey, she's my best friend, I'll take the time off work, buy the plane ticket and see the sites. So, here we are!
D: Nina?
N: It's just fabulous. I've never been to Florida before, especially not a place like the Keys. So warm.
D: Nina! It's Muncie! It's February! What are you...
N: So, you've got, what, therapy in the morning? And then... shopping!!
D: Nina! Stop!
N: We are going to have so much fun! A little retail therapy, margaritas in the sand, with the spa boys!
D: I'm here until they release me! It's a state facility. I'm a danger to myself!
N: Don't worry, Donna. I'll talk to some people, we'll cure this thing, girlfriend-to-girlfriend...
(lights start fading)
D: No, Nina... This isn't funny!
N: Ice cream, massages, new lingerie, some Sex-on-the-Beaches and sex, on the beaches...
(lights out)
(end)
January 15, 2007
A Play A Day #277
Trolling
Cast:
Mike
Ed
Setting: Underwater.
(Murky light, Mike and Edward come on in fins, masks and snorkels, they are on wires, swimming ten feet above the stage, they swim for a while, then Mike points to a corner of the stage which has been decorated to look like a coral reef, they dive down and swim behind it, and lift a beautiful mermaid to the surface, she swims very lethargically between the two men, they break the surface, spitting the snorkels from their mouths, treading water)
Mike: (shouting) Ha!!! I told you! I knew you didn't believe me, but it was true!! I told you I saw her here last night! I told you, man!!
Ed: This is fucking unbelievable!! She's hot! I can't believe this, man!
M: Come on. Let's get her to the boat.
E: Doesn't she need water to breath, Mike?
M: Yeah. (give her his snorkel, but turns it so that it is pointing down into the water) There, that'll work for now, I've got a long hose on the boat for her to use.
E: Heh, heh! So do I!
M: Give it a rest, Ed. Save it for the boat.
E: How much of that shit did we use?
M: Dumped almost a ton and a half over that section of the reef.
E: And you're sure that stuff works?
M: Works in the land bar, should work on the sand bar.
E: She won't remember a thing?
M: Nothing. We just wait for the blood sample to test negative, and then she's ours.
E: How long for that?
M: Guy told me it takes about an hour for the readout.
E: Man! That's too long; do we have to do that?
M: Hey, hot chick like this, she's gotta be a slut. You wanna take that chance?
E: Alright, alright, let's go... let's go... let's go!
M: Yeah, we're wasting time here.
(they start swimming on the surface toward the exit, Edward stops, treads water, Mike and mermaid continue offstage)
E: (calling after Mike) Hey, Mike? How do we get her pants off?
M: (from offstage, after a beat, he clearly has not thought of this issue) Ahhh... fuck! (muttering as lights fade out) Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...
(end)
Cast:
Mike
Ed
Setting: Underwater.
(Murky light, Mike and Edward come on in fins, masks and snorkels, they are on wires, swimming ten feet above the stage, they swim for a while, then Mike points to a corner of the stage which has been decorated to look like a coral reef, they dive down and swim behind it, and lift a beautiful mermaid to the surface, she swims very lethargically between the two men, they break the surface, spitting the snorkels from their mouths, treading water)
Mike: (shouting) Ha!!! I told you! I knew you didn't believe me, but it was true!! I told you I saw her here last night! I told you, man!!
Ed: This is fucking unbelievable!! She's hot! I can't believe this, man!
M: Come on. Let's get her to the boat.
E: Doesn't she need water to breath, Mike?
M: Yeah. (give her his snorkel, but turns it so that it is pointing down into the water) There, that'll work for now, I've got a long hose on the boat for her to use.
E: Heh, heh! So do I!
M: Give it a rest, Ed. Save it for the boat.
E: How much of that shit did we use?
M: Dumped almost a ton and a half over that section of the reef.
E: And you're sure that stuff works?
M: Works in the land bar, should work on the sand bar.
E: She won't remember a thing?
M: Nothing. We just wait for the blood sample to test negative, and then she's ours.
E: How long for that?
M: Guy told me it takes about an hour for the readout.
E: Man! That's too long; do we have to do that?
M: Hey, hot chick like this, she's gotta be a slut. You wanna take that chance?
E: Alright, alright, let's go... let's go... let's go!
M: Yeah, we're wasting time here.
(they start swimming on the surface toward the exit, Edward stops, treads water, Mike and mermaid continue offstage)
E: (calling after Mike) Hey, Mike? How do we get her pants off?
M: (from offstage, after a beat, he clearly has not thought of this issue) Ahhh... fuck! (muttering as lights fade out) Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...
(end)
January 14, 2007
A Play A Day #276
Humanities League
Cast:
Man
Woman 1
Woman 2
Woman 3
Setting: Cheesy 1980s dance club.
(Lights up flashing on the pulsating but, like the '80s, dull scene. All is pastels, leg warmers, spandex and popped collars, three women lean on a neon wall, in walks Man, the song "Don't You Want Me" by Human League starts. Man goes into an elaborate dance, way over the top, trying to draw attention to himself and his general genital area. When the first chorus hits, he is addressing Woman 1 by singing along)
Man: Don't you want me, baby?
Woman 1: (quickly) No!
(Man lets this roll off, seemingly unpreturbed, the second time the chorus hits, he propositions Woman 2 with the same line, singing along)
Man: Don't you want me, baby?
Woman 2: (quickly) No!
(Man goes back to dancing through the second verse, even more overblown, when the second chorus hits, he is at Woman 3's feet, singing in full rock star pose)
Man: Don't you want me, baby?
Woman 3: Yes!
(Music stops abruptly. Man stands.)
Man: What?
Woman 3: I said "yes".
Man: Oh... (shocked for little bit, then realizing that's not how he should be reacting) I mean, cool... great! Uhhh, well, let's go.
Woman 3: Where?
Man: (playing the the other women as well) Well, there's a quiet spot in the back seat of...
Woman 3: Ummm, why would I want to go there?
Man: (too quickly) Or we could stay here, that's fine, fine... fine.
Woman 3: If you're staying here, then I'm leaving. (starts to exit)
Man: Wait... I thought... oh, you want me to follow, I get it. Some chicks are like that.
Woman 3: (stopped, facing him again) No! I don't want you to follow! Go away!
Man: But, hey, you said "yes"... the little song there... Human League...
Woman 3: Oh, that!
Man: Yeah, great band by the way, I have all of their album. It's great.
Woman 3: Listen, jerk, you asked if I didn't want you, correct?
Man: Well, no... it's "Don't you want me, baby?"
Woman 3: (overlapping) ...me, baby? Right, exactly. Same thing.
Man: Huh?
Woman 3: So I told you that, yes; yes I don't want you.... baby. So stay away from me! (she exits)
Man: What? (does the mental parsing of what she just said, then figures something out, he gets a big grin on his face, turns to Woman 1 and Woman 2, stands between them for a little bit, then says) Ladies?
(Woman 1 and Woman 2 come to each side of him, he puts his arms around them, they start walking off together)
Man: Why didn't you tell me the English teachers' convention was here in town?
Woman 1: You didn't ask... correctly.
Woman 2: "Here in town" is redundant, by the way.
(Man and women laugh as "Don't You Want Me" swells over the speakers again)
(lights fade)
(end)
Cast:
Man
Woman 1
Woman 2
Woman 3
Setting: Cheesy 1980s dance club.
(Lights up flashing on the pulsating but, like the '80s, dull scene. All is pastels, leg warmers, spandex and popped collars, three women lean on a neon wall, in walks Man, the song "Don't You Want Me" by Human League starts. Man goes into an elaborate dance, way over the top, trying to draw attention to himself and his general genital area. When the first chorus hits, he is addressing Woman 1 by singing along)
Man: Don't you want me, baby?
Woman 1: (quickly) No!
(Man lets this roll off, seemingly unpreturbed, the second time the chorus hits, he propositions Woman 2 with the same line, singing along)
Man: Don't you want me, baby?
Woman 2: (quickly) No!
(Man goes back to dancing through the second verse, even more overblown, when the second chorus hits, he is at Woman 3's feet, singing in full rock star pose)
Man: Don't you want me, baby?
Woman 3: Yes!
(Music stops abruptly. Man stands.)
Man: What?
Woman 3: I said "yes".
Man: Oh... (shocked for little bit, then realizing that's not how he should be reacting) I mean, cool... great! Uhhh, well, let's go.
Woman 3: Where?
Man: (playing the the other women as well) Well, there's a quiet spot in the back seat of...
Woman 3: Ummm, why would I want to go there?
Man: (too quickly) Or we could stay here, that's fine, fine... fine.
Woman 3: If you're staying here, then I'm leaving. (starts to exit)
Man: Wait... I thought... oh, you want me to follow, I get it. Some chicks are like that.
Woman 3: (stopped, facing him again) No! I don't want you to follow! Go away!
Man: But, hey, you said "yes"... the little song there... Human League...
Woman 3: Oh, that!
Man: Yeah, great band by the way, I have all of their album. It's great.
Woman 3: Listen, jerk, you asked if I didn't want you, correct?
Man: Well, no... it's "Don't you want me, baby?"
Woman 3: (overlapping) ...me, baby? Right, exactly. Same thing.
Man: Huh?
Woman 3: So I told you that, yes; yes I don't want you.... baby. So stay away from me! (she exits)
Man: What? (does the mental parsing of what she just said, then figures something out, he gets a big grin on his face, turns to Woman 1 and Woman 2, stands between them for a little bit, then says) Ladies?
(Woman 1 and Woman 2 come to each side of him, he puts his arms around them, they start walking off together)
Man: Why didn't you tell me the English teachers' convention was here in town?
Woman 1: You didn't ask... correctly.
Woman 2: "Here in town" is redundant, by the way.
(Man and women laugh as "Don't You Want Me" swells over the speakers again)
(lights fade)
(end)
January 13, 2007
A Play A Day #275
A Couple Days After Tomorrow
Cast:
Dad
Mom
Kids
Setting: A post-apocalyptic wasteland.
(Lights rise very slowly, swelling in time with depressing dirge music, gray ash covers the stage which itself is covered in rubble and any type of debris, after lights reach full intensity, a man peaks his head in from offstage, looks around, slowly walks toward center stage, looking very tentative at first, picking things up, smelling them, even tasting some of the ash, he moves about taking everything in, then he retreats off from where he came, a short pause then, back on to stage marches the man)
Dad: C'mon, no, check it out, it's pretty cool...
Mom: Look at all the mess.
(Kids are picking things up, murmuring and generally are impressed by the new look of everything)
Dad: Well, yeah, but look out there, dear... it's fine, a lot of things are still where they always were... and look over there, the gas station is still open.
Mom: Good ol' Sam, nothing closes that place down!
Dad: Hey, kids, why don't you run off and find some friends!
(They do, excitedly)
Mom: Look dear! (reaching behind some debris) Fresh daisies!
Dad: Beautiful... see, I told you it wouldn't be that bad.
Mom: Well, I mean, how would we have ever know, we've always been told these horror stories about nuclear war, but... it's really, you know... nice.
Dad: And it's only been, what, three days?
Mom: Three days... hard to believe.
Dad: A little plastic, a little duct tape, and the den made a perfectly serviceable bomb shelter.
Mom: It was fun, lots of candles and board games... like camping with the kids.
Dad: I've missed that with the kids.
Mom: Well, nuclear war really helps you appreciate the true treasures in life, doesn't it?
Dad: Yes it does dear. (they hug and stare heroically toward the audience)
(kids run back on with some new friends, adlibbing excitedly)
Kid 1: Dad, Dad, we found the Applebaums and the Greenbergs, but the Mumfords and the Lindens are gone!
Kid 2: Yeah, we couldn't find'em anywhere!
Kid 3: Did they die, Dad?
Dad: (kneeling down to talk to his kids) I was afraid of this, kids.
Kid 4: What is it?
Dad: (head down) We've been ...... left behind!
Mom: What your father is trying to say, kids, is that the Mumfords and Lindens and all fundamentalist Christians have been taken up... raptured to Heaven at the time of the Apocalypse.
Dad: (starting low, then exploding upward) Hiiiigghhhh Five!!!
(high fives all around, much rejoicing, and excited adlibs)
Dad: (hugging his wife) Oh dear, isn't it wonderful! They're gone! They're finally gone!
Mom: (pointing upward) Thank you, Jesus!
(Lights blink once or twice as Jesus acknowledges his props)
Dad: Alright, kids! Let's go house hunting!
(loud cheers as they march off, overjoyed)
Mom: Who wants a pool?
Dad: Who wants three pools?
(more cheering as lights fade with cheery music swelling)
(end)
Cast:
Dad
Mom
Kids
Setting: A post-apocalyptic wasteland.
(Lights rise very slowly, swelling in time with depressing dirge music, gray ash covers the stage which itself is covered in rubble and any type of debris, after lights reach full intensity, a man peaks his head in from offstage, looks around, slowly walks toward center stage, looking very tentative at first, picking things up, smelling them, even tasting some of the ash, he moves about taking everything in, then he retreats off from where he came, a short pause then, back on to stage marches the man)
Dad: C'mon, no, check it out, it's pretty cool...
Mom: Look at all the mess.
(Kids are picking things up, murmuring and generally are impressed by the new look of everything)
Dad: Well, yeah, but look out there, dear... it's fine, a lot of things are still where they always were... and look over there, the gas station is still open.
Mom: Good ol' Sam, nothing closes that place down!
Dad: Hey, kids, why don't you run off and find some friends!
(They do, excitedly)
Mom: Look dear! (reaching behind some debris) Fresh daisies!
Dad: Beautiful... see, I told you it wouldn't be that bad.
Mom: Well, I mean, how would we have ever know, we've always been told these horror stories about nuclear war, but... it's really, you know... nice.
Dad: And it's only been, what, three days?
Mom: Three days... hard to believe.
Dad: A little plastic, a little duct tape, and the den made a perfectly serviceable bomb shelter.
Mom: It was fun, lots of candles and board games... like camping with the kids.
Dad: I've missed that with the kids.
Mom: Well, nuclear war really helps you appreciate the true treasures in life, doesn't it?
Dad: Yes it does dear. (they hug and stare heroically toward the audience)
(kids run back on with some new friends, adlibbing excitedly)
Kid 1: Dad, Dad, we found the Applebaums and the Greenbergs, but the Mumfords and the Lindens are gone!
Kid 2: Yeah, we couldn't find'em anywhere!
Kid 3: Did they die, Dad?
Dad: (kneeling down to talk to his kids) I was afraid of this, kids.
Kid 4: What is it?
Dad: (head down) We've been ...... left behind!
Mom: What your father is trying to say, kids, is that the Mumfords and Lindens and all fundamentalist Christians have been taken up... raptured to Heaven at the time of the Apocalypse.
Dad: (starting low, then exploding upward) Hiiiigghhhh Five!!!
(high fives all around, much rejoicing, and excited adlibs)
Dad: (hugging his wife) Oh dear, isn't it wonderful! They're gone! They're finally gone!
Mom: (pointing upward) Thank you, Jesus!
(Lights blink once or twice as Jesus acknowledges his props)
Dad: Alright, kids! Let's go house hunting!
(loud cheers as they march off, overjoyed)
Mom: Who wants a pool?
Dad: Who wants three pools?
(more cheering as lights fade with cheery music swelling)
(end)
January 12, 2007
A Play A Day #274
Conflag Resolution
Cast:
Walter
Receptionist
Security Guards
Setting: Front desk and waiting room, emergency room.
(Lights up on front desk, receptionist sits, reading a romance novel, no one else is there, enter Walter, approaches receptionist)
Walter: Hello.
Receptionist: Yes, hello sir. How may I help you?
W: I think I need to see a doctor.
R: Certainly, sir, what is the problem?
W: I... I'm on fire. (he actually should be on fire, good luck with this one)
R: Great, great... (turns to her computer) Well, it looks like Doctor Hallace is not working on anything at the moment.
W: Oh, great.
R: Have we ever treated you at Westview General before?
W: No, no... this is my first time here.
R:(handing him a clipboard thick with papers) Great, welcome! Please fill out these forms to the best of your ability, and then the doctor will see you.
W: (turns away with clipboard, stops, beat, turns back around) Miss, I... well, I hate to be a nuisance, but do you think I could borrow a pen?
R: Certainly, certainly... here you go.
W: Yeah, it's just that mine is all melted (pulls melted pen out of pocket)
R: I understand.
(W sits down in waiting room, which, of course, puts out the fire, his clothes now begin smoking a great deal since the fire is out; W realizes this after a few seconds of filling out the top form, gets up, hands over clipboard to R)
W: I'm not on fire now.
R: Oh! Great!
W: So, I don't need...
R: (reading top form) Well, we have your address, phone and social security numbers, that should work.
W: Hmmm?
R: You should get the bill in one to two weeks.
W: Bill?
R: If you give us your insurance information, I could have it sent to your insurance company.
W: But...
R: Do you have a deductible payment now?
W: Deductible... no... I mean...
R: We would just mail it to your insurance company then, but if you don't have a deductible with you, then...
W: I mean. I don't need the doctor any more. The fire is out.
R: But there's still the deductible.
W: Why?
R: Because you're cured.
W: Yes, but the hospital didn't do that, I cured myself.
R: By sitting in our chair?
W: Uhhh... yeah, I guess, but...
R: Exactly.
W: Any chair would have done the same thing.
R: We'll never know that.
W: It's obvious... I just...
R: We only have hospital chairs around to test your premise on; so...
W: Come on. You're joking, right?
R: Sir, I don't write the rules. You came to us in need of help. You were "on fire". We put the fire out. You owe us your plan's deductible for services rendered. We will happily bill your insurance company for the remaining amount, plus the cost of a replacement chair, if you will provide us with that information.
W: But I cured myself!
R: We've discussed this.
W: (beat, fumbles in a pocket for a little bit, withdraws a lighter) Alright, look, here's what I'm going to do, I'm going to set myself on fire again (begins lighting his suit coat or coat again) then I'm going to go outside, lay down in the grass and put myself out. I will come back and show you that I didn't need your chair. See? (shows her that he is on fire again, then exits)
(several seconds pass, she goes back to her romance novel, W returns, smoldering, giving off a great deal of smoke)
W: See? Out! I'm cured again! I did it myself.
(W tears top sheet off the clipboard, and starts walking out, R pushes a button, lights start flashing red, a loud alarm sounds, four security guards hurry onstage, R points at W nonchalantly)
Security Guards: (attack W and begin beating him mercilessly) No smoking! No smoking! Do you understand that? Can't you read? (other angry adlibs, like "This is for your own good!" and "Harder helps better!" They stop after a little while. Stand there.)
Security Guard 1: He don't look so good.
Security Guard 2: We better get him to the emergency room.
Security Guard 3: Pick'em up.
(they do, haul him to R's desk)
Security Guard 4: Ma'am, we found this man smoking in the hospital. He collapsed during questioning?
R: Thank you gentlemen. Have him fill out these forms, and Dr. Hallace will see him when she's done with her other patients.
(security guards lay W down across several waiting room seats, place clipboard on top of his chest, force a pen into his hand, and leave, R goes back to her romance novel, W is not moving)
(lights out on this scene)
(end)
Cast:
Walter
Receptionist
Security Guards
Setting: Front desk and waiting room, emergency room.
(Lights up on front desk, receptionist sits, reading a romance novel, no one else is there, enter Walter, approaches receptionist)
Walter: Hello.
Receptionist: Yes, hello sir. How may I help you?
W: I think I need to see a doctor.
R: Certainly, sir, what is the problem?
W: I... I'm on fire. (he actually should be on fire, good luck with this one)
R: Great, great... (turns to her computer) Well, it looks like Doctor Hallace is not working on anything at the moment.
W: Oh, great.
R: Have we ever treated you at Westview General before?
W: No, no... this is my first time here.
R:(handing him a clipboard thick with papers) Great, welcome! Please fill out these forms to the best of your ability, and then the doctor will see you.
W: (turns away with clipboard, stops, beat, turns back around) Miss, I... well, I hate to be a nuisance, but do you think I could borrow a pen?
R: Certainly, certainly... here you go.
W: Yeah, it's just that mine is all melted (pulls melted pen out of pocket)
R: I understand.
(W sits down in waiting room, which, of course, puts out the fire, his clothes now begin smoking a great deal since the fire is out; W realizes this after a few seconds of filling out the top form, gets up, hands over clipboard to R)
W: I'm not on fire now.
R: Oh! Great!
W: So, I don't need...
R: (reading top form) Well, we have your address, phone and social security numbers, that should work.
W: Hmmm?
R: You should get the bill in one to two weeks.
W: Bill?
R: If you give us your insurance information, I could have it sent to your insurance company.
W: But...
R: Do you have a deductible payment now?
W: Deductible... no... I mean...
R: We would just mail it to your insurance company then, but if you don't have a deductible with you, then...
W: I mean. I don't need the doctor any more. The fire is out.
R: But there's still the deductible.
W: Why?
R: Because you're cured.
W: Yes, but the hospital didn't do that, I cured myself.
R: By sitting in our chair?
W: Uhhh... yeah, I guess, but...
R: Exactly.
W: Any chair would have done the same thing.
R: We'll never know that.
W: It's obvious... I just...
R: We only have hospital chairs around to test your premise on; so...
W: Come on. You're joking, right?
R: Sir, I don't write the rules. You came to us in need of help. You were "on fire". We put the fire out. You owe us your plan's deductible for services rendered. We will happily bill your insurance company for the remaining amount, plus the cost of a replacement chair, if you will provide us with that information.
W: But I cured myself!
R: We've discussed this.
W: (beat, fumbles in a pocket for a little bit, withdraws a lighter) Alright, look, here's what I'm going to do, I'm going to set myself on fire again (begins lighting his suit coat or coat again) then I'm going to go outside, lay down in the grass and put myself out. I will come back and show you that I didn't need your chair. See? (shows her that he is on fire again, then exits)
(several seconds pass, she goes back to her romance novel, W returns, smoldering, giving off a great deal of smoke)
W: See? Out! I'm cured again! I did it myself.
(W tears top sheet off the clipboard, and starts walking out, R pushes a button, lights start flashing red, a loud alarm sounds, four security guards hurry onstage, R points at W nonchalantly)
Security Guards: (attack W and begin beating him mercilessly) No smoking! No smoking! Do you understand that? Can't you read? (other angry adlibs, like "This is for your own good!" and "Harder helps better!" They stop after a little while. Stand there.)
Security Guard 1: He don't look so good.
Security Guard 2: We better get him to the emergency room.
Security Guard 3: Pick'em up.
(they do, haul him to R's desk)
Security Guard 4: Ma'am, we found this man smoking in the hospital. He collapsed during questioning?
R: Thank you gentlemen. Have him fill out these forms, and Dr. Hallace will see him when she's done with her other patients.
(security guards lay W down across several waiting room seats, place clipboard on top of his chest, force a pen into his hand, and leave, R goes back to her romance novel, W is not moving)
(lights out on this scene)
(end)
January 11, 2007
A Play A Day #273
The Rememberings Of Stabbings Past
Cast:
Cynthia
Fiver
Setting: Living room. Cynthia sits on the floor, going through photos. Fiver reads a magazine on the sofa.
Cynthia: Ohh, look at this Fiver. (holds out a picture to him) Remember this?
Fiver: Yes.
C: Wow. Unbelievable.
F: That was fun.
C: Huh?
F: Thank you.
C: What?
F: For remembering that picture.
C: What?
F: The one you showed me.
C: Yeah?
F: It was fun to remember that picture.
C: I don't get it.
F: That picture. So many memories.
C: Did you look at it?
F: Yeah.
C: Fun?
F: Yeah, so much fun.
C: It's when you were in the hospital after you got mugged and stabbed in the liver.
F: What?
C: Two guys, stabbed you in the liver, you weren't found until the morning.
F: Hmmm?
C: Intensive care for a week, that time?
F: Really?
C: What?
F: Stabbed?
C: Yeah! Pierced your liver?
F: Ouch, bet that hurts.
C: You nearly died!
F: Odd. I feel fine.
C: Now, yes. That was two years ago.
F: Sounds pretty bad.
C: It was! I cried for weeks, Fiver.
F: Sad.
C: Yes, of cou... what's wrong with you?
F: Nothing. Feel alright.
C: I mean, you don't remember the stabbing, the hospital.
F: No.
C: But we talked about it last week, at the Murrays; you told everyone about the whole thing.
F: Yes, I did. That's right.
C: But, now...
F: The picture. Thank you... for the picture.
C: The picture?
F: I remember now.
C: I don't know when you've ever forgot about it.
F: Well, actually, I've only seen that picture once before.
C: Right, but... what?
F: Now, you showed it to me, now I remember that picture.
C: Yeah, it was the day they took you out of intensive care.
F: Nice rectangular shape.
C: Wha...? Intensive care?
F: The picture.
C: Ummm... yeah, I... What... Are you telling me that you remember that picture?
F: Very well.
C: Okay.
F: Some guy in a hospital bed, looks in pretty bad shape.
(lights out)
(end)
Cast:
Cynthia
Fiver
Setting: Living room. Cynthia sits on the floor, going through photos. Fiver reads a magazine on the sofa.
Cynthia: Ohh, look at this Fiver. (holds out a picture to him) Remember this?
Fiver: Yes.
C: Wow. Unbelievable.
F: That was fun.
C: Huh?
F: Thank you.
C: What?
F: For remembering that picture.
C: What?
F: The one you showed me.
C: Yeah?
F: It was fun to remember that picture.
C: I don't get it.
F: That picture. So many memories.
C: Did you look at it?
F: Yeah.
C: Fun?
F: Yeah, so much fun.
C: It's when you were in the hospital after you got mugged and stabbed in the liver.
F: What?
C: Two guys, stabbed you in the liver, you weren't found until the morning.
F: Hmmm?
C: Intensive care for a week, that time?
F: Really?
C: What?
F: Stabbed?
C: Yeah! Pierced your liver?
F: Ouch, bet that hurts.
C: You nearly died!
F: Odd. I feel fine.
C: Now, yes. That was two years ago.
F: Sounds pretty bad.
C: It was! I cried for weeks, Fiver.
F: Sad.
C: Yes, of cou... what's wrong with you?
F: Nothing. Feel alright.
C: I mean, you don't remember the stabbing, the hospital.
F: No.
C: But we talked about it last week, at the Murrays; you told everyone about the whole thing.
F: Yes, I did. That's right.
C: But, now...
F: The picture. Thank you... for the picture.
C: The picture?
F: I remember now.
C: I don't know when you've ever forgot about it.
F: Well, actually, I've only seen that picture once before.
C: Right, but... what?
F: Now, you showed it to me, now I remember that picture.
C: Yeah, it was the day they took you out of intensive care.
F: Nice rectangular shape.
C: Wha...? Intensive care?
F: The picture.
C: Ummm... yeah, I... What... Are you telling me that you remember that picture?
F: Very well.
C: Okay.
F: Some guy in a hospital bed, looks in pretty bad shape.
(lights out)
(end)
January 10, 2007
A Play A Day #272
For Cute
Cast:
Lincoln
Barabara
Set: Work, dull office space, two dull white office workers, two desks, two chairs, and a lot of "cute" stuff for Barabara's desk: A stapler cozy, only starts to cover the cute her desk contains. Lincoln enters with a small box with his desk gear in it.
Barabara: (standing up) Oh hi!!! You must be Lincoln!! What a cute name! My name's Barabara! I'm your new office mate! So exciting!!
Lincoln: Uhh... hi... Bara-bara?
B: Yep, that's me! This is your desk! (it's obvious, of course)
L: Yes. I thought it might be.
B: When I first came into this office, they told me to take that desk, but, just between you and me, Lincoln: I thought this desk (points to his) was way cuter! (they are identical)
L: Yes... it seems... nice.
B: So that's your chair, lucky boy! What a cute chair!
L: I think yours is, you know, just great too.
B: Ohhh! You flatterer! That's so cute!
L: Hmmm?
B: My chair hurts my butt!
L: Well, I'm sure mine will hurt my... uhh... when I sit down... sit for a long time to do work too.
B: That's was just the cutest thing evar! You are so cute!! Not saying "butt"! That was just too cute!!
L: I... uhhh... it's...
B: (in confidential tone) You can say butt around me, Lincoln. I don't mind!
L: Well, I'd like to, but I just want to be appropriate... it's my first day and...
B: (waving her finger, then putting her fingers in her ears, in mock horror) But, you just said "butt", but, oh no, Lincoln!! Oh no!!
L: Ohh... yeah, the conjunction, that but, yeah, I guess, I have...
B: (mock fainting in a glamorous but helpless damsel-in-distress manner) Oh save me from this rude attack of butts, Prince Lincoln! (falls into his arms)
L: (struggles to catch her) Uhh... yeah... (tries to laugh, she stays in that position for just one second too long, laughing)
B: Ohh... Lincoln! My hero! That was just so cute!! Ahhh!!! You're so strong!
L: I... thanks... uhhh... I should be getting my dress... desk, my desk... straightened away...
B: Are you saying my dress is crooked, Lincoln? (fusses with her dress)
L: No, I... I mispeak sometimes... it's a hard habit to get around... your dress is fine! It's fine! I... it...
B: Thanks! I love this dress! I saw it at Gagabouts in the Daledale Mall!! And I was with my girlfriends, Chrissy and Melissy, and we saw it, and I had to race them into the store to buy it!! Isn't it just about the cutest thing evar?!
L: It's... yeah... I've been in that Mall before...
B: It's the cutest mall in the history of malls! Cutest mall evar!
L: Yeah.. I... I liked it?
B: I got these shoes there too! They are so, ohmigod! They are like ohmigod-cute! Cutest ohmigod-cute in for-evar!
L: They... they do look nice with the thing and the... the ... uh... shoe part.
B: Oh... listen to me, going on about shoes. You're so cute to humor me! That is just about the cutest thing a co-worker can do for another co-worker... it's just so tender-cute.
L: Ohh... I... don't know much about...
B: You are just so cute to me, and I know we only just started working together, but I can tell that we are going to be the cutest working couple in the history of people working in this office!
L: I... I'm... uhh... well I sort of have a girlfriend and...
B: I bet you do, Lincoln, cute thing like you! Lucky girl! Is she cute?
L: Yeah... I think.. I think so... I mean...
B: I'll bet she is, Lincoln, cute thing like you! I'll bet she's just the cutest sort of girlfriend evar!
L: Well. I... uhh... hey... Barbara?
B: Bara-bara.
L: Right... Bara... bara... uhh, is that Japanese?
B: What?
L: Your name? Is Barabara a Japanese name?
B: Ahh... so cute! That was just... wow! That was just the cutest, adorablest thing that a guy has ever asked me evar!
L: I was just curious... you don't... ummm... you don't have to answer.
B: Ohhh... I want to answer! It's not Japanese! I changed my name from Barbara to Barabara... the extra "a" just makes all the difference, so my name's like a cute little song... (sings her name in an annoying-cute manner a few times too many) So now before, when my name was just Barbara, I was in this cute high school, and it was cute, but, you know, just cute, and then I graduated and added that fourth "a", and now look at me! I work here in the cutest office evar!
L: Ohh.. yes, yes... you do.
B: I'm thinking about adding a fifth "a", since the fourth one was just so cute!
L: (tries valiantly) Cutest letter "a" evahhhhr! (fails miserably)
B: (not understanding his over-exaggeration) Well, at least evar. (pause) Oh you... definitely going to be great working buddies here!
L: Sure... sure...
B: But I've always had good luck with all my office buddies here!
L: Really?
B: Each cuter than the last!
L: Yeah?
B: Yep, you're going to be the cutest co-worker evar! Cuter than the other four put togethar!
L: Wow! Four other people, before, before... me? You look so young.
B: Ohh for cute! That flattery again! I know I look young, but don't let that deceive you; I'm almost 21!!
L: Wow! Okay... I... I... I... guess... I never would have guessed that!
B: Yes, silly, don't act so surprised, I've been slaving away here for almost three months!
L: Oh! Ahhh... yes, well, those other people just... uhhh... people just come and go quickly when they're starting out in a new company I guess... probably got assigned to... to other offices?
B: Oh heavens no! Ohhh nooo, they all quit, well, three of them quit, one of them killed himself.
L: Killed! Really? Killed?
B: I guess that's, like, extreme quitting.
L: That's horrible, how did he die?
B: Lots of gravity. Found him fourteen floors below that window. (points straight behind her)
L: He jumped?
B: Well, he sort of hurled himself into the window, and then he fell. Not so much of a jump.
L: That's... horrible... I mean.
B: I know, this was one girl who took a third coffee break that day!
L: I... I can't believe that they still make you...
B: Oh, you care so much, and that's so cute! Truth is, I wanted to stay in this office, especially after they put a nicer window in... you know to replace the one Theo broke with his body and bones and stuff.
L: Theo was his name?
B: Ohh, you are such a carer! Oh for cute! Theo was great, real cute guy, just say the cutest things... like "I suppose today really is the first day of the rest of my life" and "Make sure someone feeds my gerbils" and... oops, forgot about that... how long do gerbils live with no food?
L: I... I don't...
B: He was so cute... real funny guy... sort of sad-cute at times, but we got along so well... We were just a cute little working team for a week and a half, Theo and me!
L: Well... I hope...
B: Although I liked Brant even more! What a cutey! (in deep voice) He was all big and muscular and scary! He was real cute, angry-cute... he'd say the cutest things... like "Please stop faxing me pictures of puppies" and "Do you have any friends who's names don't end in "y"" Note to Lincoln: I have two: Tessie and Leslie. And, one time he said the angriest-cutest thing evar... he said "It's pronounced Ev-urrrr!" Then he ran down the hall and I haven't seem him since. So cute though.
L: I really should...
B: But the real cutest one was Derek! For cute!?? Oh yeah! Real cute... like a PhD in Cutieography, with a Cuteology degree on the side... he was always showing up for work at odd times, sneaking in like a cute little mousey-wousey... just too cute... I'd find him hiding under his desk, kinda shivering, so I'd grab my shawl and crawl under there with him... pretend we were on a campout, he never spoke much, but I know he liked it. His head was always shaking up and down real fast; one of the most positive people I ever met... too cute... just didn't show up for work one day...
L: That's too bad, I should get going to the...
B: But the last guy, he was here the longest, almost four weeks! He was just the small wittle guy! I just wanted to pick him up and cuddle him... SOOO CUTE!!! His name was Todd... but I called him Toddles... Hey, I couldd make up a pet name for you... uhhh... I got it... Linkles? Ohh, that's too cute! Definitely using that one! So, Toddles and me, we worked really, really, really great together! We were like the cutest working couple in the history of history for-evar! One day, he said he wanted to try something new in the office, and what do you think he proposed? What? Huhh...
L: I...
B: Right, honesty!! How cute is that? If you looked up "cute" in the cutest dictionary in the cutest dictionary library on cutest street in the cutest city in the cutest state in the cutest country on the cutest planet in the cutest universe EV-AR! that's where you'd find what Toddles said to me! "Barabara," he said, "I think we need to try some brutal honesty around here", he said. Sooo amazingestly the cutest thing ever said by anybody in anywhere for-evar!
L: Yeah... I...
B: So after that, Toddles was just so brutally-cute at work... he'd kinda rummble-rumble all the time, like a cute little train making it up that cute little hill. And when he wasn't doing his cute rumbling sounds, sometimes he'd say something like "Would you just shut the hell up for once!?" or "You're driving me insane, you horrible monster!" or "I'm going to stab you in the fucking eye with my pen!"... and he did!
L: WHAT?!
B: I know... it did hurt, I had to take almost a whole day off work too! But now, I have this cute little fake eye (pops it out, shows it to him, which makes him queasy and uneasy, she pops the eye back in) It's really cute, I can get a whole assortment of fake eyes, different ones for different ocassions! It's the cutest fake body part evar!
L: I have the..
B: So what's in the box? (goes for it)
L: (moves to shield the box) No... I have the orientation...
B: (grabbing photo) Ahh... this is the cutest picture of a sorta girlfriend I have seen evar!
L: Please... (taking photo from her).. the new employees have to...
B: (grabbing his stapler from the box) Guess what... you are so lucky, cuz my friend, Sissy, makes thee cutest little stapler cozies evar! No more touching cold plastic staplers! So cute...
L: Reall, I'll just take care of my stuff later...
B: I could take care of it for you while you're at your meeting thingy! Yeah, it'll be fun! I'll set up you desk in a really cute...
L: BARABARA!! NO! (quieting quickly) I... I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to...
B: Hey! You barked at me! Like a cute widdle puppy-wuppy doggie... ahhh! For cute! That just settles it, we are going to be the cutest working couple evar!! Now don't miss your meeting!
L: (beat) Yeah... I... (turns and exits quickly, looking back over his shoulder once or twice)
B: (calling after him, while removing items from the his box) Don't you fret, you cute widdle barking puppy dog! I'll take care of all this! It'll be real cute, Linkles!
(she claps her hands excitedly and rapidly, and then starts going through the stuff, as lights fade)
(end)
Cast:
Lincoln
Barabara
Set: Work, dull office space, two dull white office workers, two desks, two chairs, and a lot of "cute" stuff for Barabara's desk: A stapler cozy, only starts to cover the cute her desk contains. Lincoln enters with a small box with his desk gear in it.
Barabara: (standing up) Oh hi!!! You must be Lincoln!! What a cute name! My name's Barabara! I'm your new office mate! So exciting!!
Lincoln: Uhh... hi... Bara-bara?
B: Yep, that's me! This is your desk! (it's obvious, of course)
L: Yes. I thought it might be.
B: When I first came into this office, they told me to take that desk, but, just between you and me, Lincoln: I thought this desk (points to his) was way cuter! (they are identical)
L: Yes... it seems... nice.
B: So that's your chair, lucky boy! What a cute chair!
L: I think yours is, you know, just great too.
B: Ohhh! You flatterer! That's so cute!
L: Hmmm?
B: My chair hurts my butt!
L: Well, I'm sure mine will hurt my... uhh... when I sit down... sit for a long time to do work too.
B: That's was just the cutest thing evar! You are so cute!! Not saying "butt"! That was just too cute!!
L: I... uhhh... it's...
B: (in confidential tone) You can say butt around me, Lincoln. I don't mind!
L: Well, I'd like to, but I just want to be appropriate... it's my first day and...
B: (waving her finger, then putting her fingers in her ears, in mock horror) But, you just said "butt", but, oh no, Lincoln!! Oh no!!
L: Ohh... yeah, the conjunction, that but, yeah, I guess, I have...
B: (mock fainting in a glamorous but helpless damsel-in-distress manner) Oh save me from this rude attack of butts, Prince Lincoln! (falls into his arms)
L: (struggles to catch her) Uhh... yeah... (tries to laugh, she stays in that position for just one second too long, laughing)
B: Ohh... Lincoln! My hero! That was just so cute!! Ahhh!!! You're so strong!
L: I... thanks... uhhh... I should be getting my dress... desk, my desk... straightened away...
B: Are you saying my dress is crooked, Lincoln? (fusses with her dress)
L: No, I... I mispeak sometimes... it's a hard habit to get around... your dress is fine! It's fine! I... it...
B: Thanks! I love this dress! I saw it at Gagabouts in the Daledale Mall!! And I was with my girlfriends, Chrissy and Melissy, and we saw it, and I had to race them into the store to buy it!! Isn't it just about the cutest thing evar?!
L: It's... yeah... I've been in that Mall before...
B: It's the cutest mall in the history of malls! Cutest mall evar!
L: Yeah.. I... I liked it?
B: I got these shoes there too! They are so, ohmigod! They are like ohmigod-cute! Cutest ohmigod-cute in for-evar!
L: They... they do look nice with the thing and the... the ... uh... shoe part.
B: Oh... listen to me, going on about shoes. You're so cute to humor me! That is just about the cutest thing a co-worker can do for another co-worker... it's just so tender-cute.
L: Ohh... I... don't know much about...
B: You are just so cute to me, and I know we only just started working together, but I can tell that we are going to be the cutest working couple in the history of people working in this office!
L: I... I'm... uhh... well I sort of have a girlfriend and...
B: I bet you do, Lincoln, cute thing like you! Lucky girl! Is she cute?
L: Yeah... I think.. I think so... I mean...
B: I'll bet she is, Lincoln, cute thing like you! I'll bet she's just the cutest sort of girlfriend evar!
L: Well. I... uhh... hey... Barbara?
B: Bara-bara.
L: Right... Bara... bara... uhh, is that Japanese?
B: What?
L: Your name? Is Barabara a Japanese name?
B: Ahh... so cute! That was just... wow! That was just the cutest, adorablest thing that a guy has ever asked me evar!
L: I was just curious... you don't... ummm... you don't have to answer.
B: Ohhh... I want to answer! It's not Japanese! I changed my name from Barbara to Barabara... the extra "a" just makes all the difference, so my name's like a cute little song... (sings her name in an annoying-cute manner a few times too many) So now before, when my name was just Barbara, I was in this cute high school, and it was cute, but, you know, just cute, and then I graduated and added that fourth "a", and now look at me! I work here in the cutest office evar!
L: Ohh.. yes, yes... you do.
B: I'm thinking about adding a fifth "a", since the fourth one was just so cute!
L: (tries valiantly) Cutest letter "a" evahhhhr! (fails miserably)
B: (not understanding his over-exaggeration) Well, at least evar. (pause) Oh you... definitely going to be great working buddies here!
L: Sure... sure...
B: But I've always had good luck with all my office buddies here!
L: Really?
B: Each cuter than the last!
L: Yeah?
B: Yep, you're going to be the cutest co-worker evar! Cuter than the other four put togethar!
L: Wow! Four other people, before, before... me? You look so young.
B: Ohh for cute! That flattery again! I know I look young, but don't let that deceive you; I'm almost 21!!
L: Wow! Okay... I... I... I... guess... I never would have guessed that!
B: Yes, silly, don't act so surprised, I've been slaving away here for almost three months!
L: Oh! Ahhh... yes, well, those other people just... uhhh... people just come and go quickly when they're starting out in a new company I guess... probably got assigned to... to other offices?
B: Oh heavens no! Ohhh nooo, they all quit, well, three of them quit, one of them killed himself.
L: Killed! Really? Killed?
B: I guess that's, like, extreme quitting.
L: That's horrible, how did he die?
B: Lots of gravity. Found him fourteen floors below that window. (points straight behind her)
L: He jumped?
B: Well, he sort of hurled himself into the window, and then he fell. Not so much of a jump.
L: That's... horrible... I mean.
B: I know, this was one girl who took a third coffee break that day!
L: I... I can't believe that they still make you...
B: Oh, you care so much, and that's so cute! Truth is, I wanted to stay in this office, especially after they put a nicer window in... you know to replace the one Theo broke with his body and bones and stuff.
L: Theo was his name?
B: Ohh, you are such a carer! Oh for cute! Theo was great, real cute guy, just say the cutest things... like "I suppose today really is the first day of the rest of my life" and "Make sure someone feeds my gerbils" and... oops, forgot about that... how long do gerbils live with no food?
L: I... I don't...
B: He was so cute... real funny guy... sort of sad-cute at times, but we got along so well... We were just a cute little working team for a week and a half, Theo and me!
L: Well... I hope...
B: Although I liked Brant even more! What a cutey! (in deep voice) He was all big and muscular and scary! He was real cute, angry-cute... he'd say the cutest things... like "Please stop faxing me pictures of puppies" and "Do you have any friends who's names don't end in "y"" Note to Lincoln: I have two: Tessie and Leslie. And, one time he said the angriest-cutest thing evar... he said "It's pronounced Ev-urrrr!" Then he ran down the hall and I haven't seem him since. So cute though.
L: I really should...
B: But the real cutest one was Derek! For cute!?? Oh yeah! Real cute... like a PhD in Cutieography, with a Cuteology degree on the side... he was always showing up for work at odd times, sneaking in like a cute little mousey-wousey... just too cute... I'd find him hiding under his desk, kinda shivering, so I'd grab my shawl and crawl under there with him... pretend we were on a campout, he never spoke much, but I know he liked it. His head was always shaking up and down real fast; one of the most positive people I ever met... too cute... just didn't show up for work one day...
L: That's too bad, I should get going to the...
B: But the last guy, he was here the longest, almost four weeks! He was just the small wittle guy! I just wanted to pick him up and cuddle him... SOOO CUTE!!! His name was Todd... but I called him Toddles... Hey, I couldd make up a pet name for you... uhhh... I got it... Linkles? Ohh, that's too cute! Definitely using that one! So, Toddles and me, we worked really, really, really great together! We were like the cutest working couple in the history of history for-evar! One day, he said he wanted to try something new in the office, and what do you think he proposed? What? Huhh...
L: I...
B: Right, honesty!! How cute is that? If you looked up "cute" in the cutest dictionary in the cutest dictionary library on cutest street in the cutest city in the cutest state in the cutest country on the cutest planet in the cutest universe EV-AR! that's where you'd find what Toddles said to me! "Barabara," he said, "I think we need to try some brutal honesty around here", he said. Sooo amazingestly the cutest thing ever said by anybody in anywhere for-evar!
L: Yeah... I...
B: So after that, Toddles was just so brutally-cute at work... he'd kinda rummble-rumble all the time, like a cute little train making it up that cute little hill. And when he wasn't doing his cute rumbling sounds, sometimes he'd say something like "Would you just shut the hell up for once!?" or "You're driving me insane, you horrible monster!" or "I'm going to stab you in the fucking eye with my pen!"... and he did!
L: WHAT?!
B: I know... it did hurt, I had to take almost a whole day off work too! But now, I have this cute little fake eye (pops it out, shows it to him, which makes him queasy and uneasy, she pops the eye back in) It's really cute, I can get a whole assortment of fake eyes, different ones for different ocassions! It's the cutest fake body part evar!
L: I have the..
B: So what's in the box? (goes for it)
L: (moves to shield the box) No... I have the orientation...
B: (grabbing photo) Ahh... this is the cutest picture of a sorta girlfriend I have seen evar!
L: Please... (taking photo from her).. the new employees have to...
B: (grabbing his stapler from the box) Guess what... you are so lucky, cuz my friend, Sissy, makes thee cutest little stapler cozies evar! No more touching cold plastic staplers! So cute...
L: Reall, I'll just take care of my stuff later...
B: I could take care of it for you while you're at your meeting thingy! Yeah, it'll be fun! I'll set up you desk in a really cute...
L: BARABARA!! NO! (quieting quickly) I... I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to...
B: Hey! You barked at me! Like a cute widdle puppy-wuppy doggie... ahhh! For cute! That just settles it, we are going to be the cutest working couple evar!! Now don't miss your meeting!
L: (beat) Yeah... I... (turns and exits quickly, looking back over his shoulder once or twice)
B: (calling after him, while removing items from the his box) Don't you fret, you cute widdle barking puppy dog! I'll take care of all this! It'll be real cute, Linkles!
(she claps her hands excitedly and rapidly, and then starts going through the stuff, as lights fade)
(end)
January 9, 2007
A Play A Day #271
Five Beers
Cast:
Ollie
Pat
Setting: Bar. Two tools on two stools.
(lights up, drunken laughing and gasps throughout, they should be moving drunkenly, lots of physical interaction)
Ollie: And then... that one time...
Pat: ...by the river in Gus's ford?
O: No! Ya fuckhead! I meant the other time... the river, that time, that was good, don't get me wrong going on about the river, now what's that shit... was it Springsteen playing and...
P: ... no way, not fucking Springsteen, I woulda remebered if it was fuckin' Springsteen... I mean... Bruce!! I woulda, man, remembered and shit... Bruuuuuuuuuuucccee!! Yeah, and so what was the time...
O: Bad Company... wasn't Springsteen then, Bad Company...
P: Bad Company! Love that band!
O: ... the Bad Company playing, you got... this was on Nestor's lake, I think... yeah, cuz I had the case of Hamms... and can't fucking find Hamms anymore... and Bad Company's playing and the Hamms and you got like your pants were like... the Hamms...
P: Saw some Hamms yesterday and the Fuck'n Go...
O: No shit... what's the Fuck'n Go?
P: Fuckin' Fuel 'n Go...
O: Oh shit! That's fuckin' funny! You're a fuckin' funny mutherfucker, you are! Fuel 'n Go, and you know that but you call it... uhh... what did you call it?
P: Uhhh... called it the Fuck'n Go. I did cuz...
O: Fuckin' funny... fuck'n go... that's a good one... 'steada Fuel, you say... Fuck and fuck!
P: Made it up myself, you never heard that one before?
O: No! So funny! I think I pissed myself! Fuck'n Go! I Fuck'n went!
P: Nah... ya just dumped some more beer on your pants, you're fucked up, you are...
O: Yeah... I guess... I feel a little bit... tipsy... just a little, fuckin' not drunk...
P: You're fuckin' shitfaced.
O: Seriously though... you can get Hamms there?
P: Right there.
O: Well, shit! On Nestor's lake and the Hamms is rolling around on the boat, and that shitty radio's playing Bad Company, and the engine died, and the fucking wind!
P: The wind, bad wind... I didn't like it.
O: Kinda smelled all funny, and we got no power, and no fuckin' uhhh... things to like, uhh... with the things...
P: Paddles?
O: No paddles, and the wind and it's a big fuckin' lake, and no paddles at all, no, no, no paddles, just the lake with wind and the...
P: Hamms, we had Hamms.
O: Yeah... and Bad Company and the radio and the wind pushing us toward the golf club side of the lake...
P: Yeah... fucking right to the uhhh, golf... course... and the party...
O: Big woohaa they throw every year that big what's the fuckin'... the name... the big thing with the rich folks and the nice cars...
P: That's a charity ball some sorta shit like that... they all fuckin' dancing in that huge tent... orchestra...
O: Looked like the prettiest, twinkly sorta place I'd ever seen...
P: Ohhh... yeah... the fuckin' lights everywhere... like Christmas in July...
O: Fuckin' July? Ya fuckin' numbnuts, memory you ain't got, fuck... like Christmas in July in September is what ya meant to say...
P: September?
O: Like July in September... like ninety degrees, school's back in... the kids are at school, but we... we all graduated... nothing to do but cruise Nestor's lake in late night boat rides...
P: Drinking Hamms...
O: Boats we didn't even own or have any sorta technical rights to either operate or have in our possesssion like that one lawyer always said it...
P: Lawyer... yeah... fuckin' forgot... Lawyer don't drink any Hamms...
O: More for us! Haaa-haa!
P: Douchebags!
O: So we hit the shore... decide to check out the lights...
P: Bring along the Hamms, sounds like a party, bring along the Hamms, and we say when we get close... that it didn't sound like our sorta party in anyway...
O: Hardly any laughing...
P: Just sorta these chuckles... people with like really tight, their mouths all closed, tight mouths... that kinda laugh sorta thing...
O: They weren't playing no Bad Company either...
P: Yeah... so you?
O: No, it was me.
P: That's what I said, fuckbucket!
O: So, I go back to boat, and bring the radio up to the back of the tent, crank the fuckin' Bad Company!
P: No! It was Springsteen!
O: I thought you said it wasn't Springsteen... Bad Company you cranked...
P: In the boat was Bad Company! Springsteen when I had the radio by the tent; Springsteen's playing... fuckin' "Rosalita"...
O: Fuckin' classic song! Awesome! Like fifty minutes long!
P: Great song, undisputed by all!
O: I crank the radio up, hold it over my head.
P: Figure we bring the rock to those stuffed pricks.
O: But the batteries don't like the new volume so much... and, and, and!!! Fuckin' hilarious!
P: The radio shuts up quick, the, the uhhh... the what do you call it, the... uhh... the battery door...
O: The whole fuckin' compartment opens and like 16 D batteries smack me on the head...
P: Fuckin' classic...
O: Fuckin' hurt like hell, thought I was being attacked by some axe murderer or shit, fuckin' right on the head... those batteries... funny now, though...
P: Funny all the fuckin' time...
O: The party's still going, no one heard the Bruce, I'm jumping around swearing cuz my head's been crushed by batteries...
P: So, I have the idea.
O: The idea.
P: The idea.
O: The idea.
P: The idea.
O: The fuckin'...
P: The idea.
O: The fuckin' idea, man...
P: Restore your dignity.
O: Fuckin' batteries.
P: I show you the big... uhhh... whatsits... the things...
O: Ratchets.
P: Those ratchets, hold the straps... the straps...
O: The straps hold the huge fucking poles...
P: These poles... the whole west side of the tent...
O: Three poles, right?
P: Five poles.
O: No, no, no, no, it was three poles... five straps...
P: Three? Five? I...
O: Two at each corner. Then the center, there's one.
P: Right... that's right... so these ratchets... I show you how they work, cuz I helped set up my aunt's wedding tent that summer...
O: Yeah... the wind...
P: The fuckin' wind is pulling those straps tight...
O: Real tight... those fucking things are powerful... but the wind...
P: The wind, it comes and goes... the wind dies, you the pole bounces back a little toward the stake... meaning you can mess with the ratchet, open it up...
O: Five ratchets...
P: The wind, and we got five Hamms left...
O: And the old reel we found in the boat...
P: Perfect.
O: Fuckin' perfect-as-ever perfect...
P: So, the wind dies the pole bounces back, we grunt and open each one wide...
O: Like a big metal alligator.
P: Alligator goes open wide, and we shove the Hamms can in the jaws.
O: Then close the ratchet over the can... now the fuckin' ratchet is locked in place...
P: But not the, not the, the regular ratchet lock! A full can of beer. Beer can. Can of Hamms beer holds it locked down...
O: Do that with all five of them bastards...
P: My fuckin' hands were bleeding from all the pulling and forcing...
O: Then the fishing line...
P: Tie one end to each beer tab, gather'em all together, head down to the shore by the boat...
O: Wait for the biggest fuckin' wind of the night.
P: And PULL!!
O: Shit!
P: Oh shit, that was some sight!
O: Oh, shit! Beer spraying outta those cans!
P: Fuckin' jaws crush those cans in a snap...
O: Half a snap...
P: The straps slide through the ratchets, the poles...
O: I can still hear the screaming.
P: Yeah.
O: Right on the orchestra.
P: People running outta the other end...
O: They spot us, and get suspicious...
P: But... too late...
O: We're in the boat and headed out!
P: Except.
O: Yeah. Motor doesn't work.
P: That's why we're at the golf club thing in the first place.
O: Unfortunately, neither one of us were good swimmers.
P: Shit.
O: I did too.
P: Five years. Five fuckin' years.
O: What a waste... five prime beers of our youth we'll never get back again.
P: Wasted five perfectly good Hamms.
O: And two violinists.
P: Sad.
O: We are no longer allowed to purchase or otherwise have in our possession any qauntity of Hamms Beer.
P: Too bad. It's so refreshing.
O: Well, just yesterday I made it under one thousand.
P: Shit, you're under one thousand already?
O: Already, it's been six years since we got out, Pat.
P: But I got over twelve hundred hours left.
O: Yep, just nine hundred ninety-eight for me, came in on some weekends.
P: Then you can... you can.
O: I get to buy Hamms again.
P: Shit, you're scoping that shit already...
O: Now I know where it's at, you scoping it for me.
P: The Fuck'n Go, shit...
O: Still kills me, fucking name, fucking funny.
P: Shit... you hoppin' my Hamms?
O: The fuck?
P: I said, you fuckin' hoppin' my fuckin' Hamms, Ollie?!
O: Fucking crazyass?
P: You're hoppin' my Hamms, Ollie!
O: No! No! Man, just, no... fuck!
P: My fuckin' legitimately scoped Hamms, Ollie!
O: My hours'll be done before, you can't even scope it yet!
P: Bullshit, Ollie! My fuckin' legit scoped Hamms fuckin' beer, Ollie!
O: I get it first... I'm done, the probation done, me, I get it!
P: Fuckin' no way! It's not about the fuckin' probation hours, Ollie, my fuckin' Hamms!!
O: Community service hours, Pat, mine, done so I get the Hamms!
P: You wouldn't know the Hamms was at the Fuck'n Go, without me fuckin' scoping it!
O: Bullshit, woulda found it, the hours done, the ol' Hamms detector switches on, I find, I find, beer... Hamms.
P: Bullshit!
O: Bullshit, bullshit!
P: I found it! I scoped the fuckin' Hamms... off, no fuckin' hoppin' my Hamms... no, not yours...
O: I got like almost a thousand hours left... not like I'm gonna get it now... we both know I can't do that...
P: Not yours!
O: We... like six months, then I can buy it...
P: No you fuckin' can't, Ollie... I scoped the fuckin' Hamms, Ollie!!
O: Fine ya fucker! Fine!
P: Yeah?
O: Fine, yeah.
P: Yeah?
O: Fucking yeah, alright!
P: Really?
O: Fuck...
P: Oh.
O: ...... Won't be the Hamms you scoped in six months, dickweed.
P: You fucker!!!
O: Just saying, not the same Hamms, you scoped this... not the same, new shipment...
P: Fuckin' is, fucker!
O: Some other jackass'll hop it before then... someone else with your Hamms.
P: Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck.... you're fuckin' right... fuck!!
O: Yep.
P: Fuck.
O: Yeah.
P: Shit...
O: What do ya do 'bout it?
P: Shit...
O: What do ya do?
P: Fuck.
O: You said that.
P: Okay, okay, okay, okay................. we gotta get that Hamms.
O: What?
P: Gotta get it.
O: The Hamms?
P: We gotta get it.
O: We ain't allowed to purchase or otherwise have in our possession any qauntity of Hamms Beer.
P: No, I know that, but...
O: Not 'til the probation period's done, Pat, ya fuckin' know that, you fuckin' with...
P: I know that, but...
O: Cauz like six years man, fuckin' hard ass six years, only six months left, you only...
P: Yeah, 'bout seven months... but...
O: Then it's done.
P: Right, but...
O: It's done, and the Hamms is ours...
P: But...
O: Buy all the fuckin' Hamms we want.
P: We don't...
O: Fuckin' take a bath in Hamms, the beer refreshing.
P: We get it, so no one else can hop it, before we're done, then we drink it together...
O: Fuck'n Go's closed anyway, not this late, not open.
P: No problem... we break in, grab the Hamms and go...
O: We can't have any in our possession... means we can't, can't uhhh... possess it.
P: Yeah, we'll store it under my neighbor's shed... fucker ain't touched that thing in a loooonnggg fuckin' time.
O: No, fuck no, Pat!
P: Be good for the Hamms, age it for seven months, shit'll be sweet... dirt-aged, good shit...
O: Five years we did, five, fuck, no, I can't...
P: Someone'll hop the Hamms, Ollie. Can't have that... can't have the...
O: Fuck.
P: Can't have the Hamms hopped, my buddy! See, we hide it, no possession, right...
O: Seems like, but...
P: So that's the idea...
O: The idea?
P: The idea.
O: The idea.
P: The fucking idea.
O: Perfect-as-ever perfect?
P: Wouldn't fuck with ya, man.
O: We don't possess it?
P: No, so we don't get in trouble. Probation's still good.
O: We're good?
P: Break in, free the beer, transport it to my neighbor's shed... boom... it's done...
O: It's done?
P: Done.
O: Done.
P: Done.
O: Five years, man...
P: Shit... you're right.
O: Was a long time, Pat.
P: Yeah... then we'll grab some jerky too.
O: Jerky?
P: Why not. But, don't fuckin' lose sight of the goal... it's really 'bout the Hamms.
O: For the Hamms?
P: Fuckin' right.
O: Okay.
P: For the Hamms.
O: The Hamms.
P: Fuckin' A.
O: Yeah, the Hamms.
P: The Hamms.
O: Fuckin' A!
P: We better head...
O: Bar's closing down...
P: And we got a ways to walk.
O: Good thing 'bout losing your license, ya can drink more.
P: Yeah, let's go... Hamms is waiting.
(head offstage as lights start fading, their voices grow more distant)
O: Shit.
P: Windy as fuck tonight.
O: Wind smells kinda funny, Pat.
P: The Hamms, Ollie, the Hamms.
O: Yeah, the Hamms.
(lights out)
(end)
Cast:
Ollie
Pat
Setting: Bar. Two tools on two stools.
(lights up, drunken laughing and gasps throughout, they should be moving drunkenly, lots of physical interaction)
Ollie: And then... that one time...
Pat: ...by the river in Gus's ford?
O: No! Ya fuckhead! I meant the other time... the river, that time, that was good, don't get me wrong going on about the river, now what's that shit... was it Springsteen playing and...
P: ... no way, not fucking Springsteen, I woulda remebered if it was fuckin' Springsteen... I mean... Bruce!! I woulda, man, remembered and shit... Bruuuuuuuuuuucccee!! Yeah, and so what was the time...
O: Bad Company... wasn't Springsteen then, Bad Company...
P: Bad Company! Love that band!
O: ... the Bad Company playing, you got... this was on Nestor's lake, I think... yeah, cuz I had the case of Hamms... and can't fucking find Hamms anymore... and Bad Company's playing and the Hamms and you got like your pants were like... the Hamms...
P: Saw some Hamms yesterday and the Fuck'n Go...
O: No shit... what's the Fuck'n Go?
P: Fuckin' Fuel 'n Go...
O: Oh shit! That's fuckin' funny! You're a fuckin' funny mutherfucker, you are! Fuel 'n Go, and you know that but you call it... uhh... what did you call it?
P: Uhhh... called it the Fuck'n Go. I did cuz...
O: Fuckin' funny... fuck'n go... that's a good one... 'steada Fuel, you say... Fuck and fuck!
P: Made it up myself, you never heard that one before?
O: No! So funny! I think I pissed myself! Fuck'n Go! I Fuck'n went!
P: Nah... ya just dumped some more beer on your pants, you're fucked up, you are...
O: Yeah... I guess... I feel a little bit... tipsy... just a little, fuckin' not drunk...
P: You're fuckin' shitfaced.
O: Seriously though... you can get Hamms there?
P: Right there.
O: Well, shit! On Nestor's lake and the Hamms is rolling around on the boat, and that shitty radio's playing Bad Company, and the engine died, and the fucking wind!
P: The wind, bad wind... I didn't like it.
O: Kinda smelled all funny, and we got no power, and no fuckin' uhhh... things to like, uhh... with the things...
P: Paddles?
O: No paddles, and the wind and it's a big fuckin' lake, and no paddles at all, no, no, no paddles, just the lake with wind and the...
P: Hamms, we had Hamms.
O: Yeah... and Bad Company and the radio and the wind pushing us toward the golf club side of the lake...
P: Yeah... fucking right to the uhhh, golf... course... and the party...
O: Big woohaa they throw every year that big what's the fuckin'... the name... the big thing with the rich folks and the nice cars...
P: That's a charity ball some sorta shit like that... they all fuckin' dancing in that huge tent... orchestra...
O: Looked like the prettiest, twinkly sorta place I'd ever seen...
P: Ohhh... yeah... the fuckin' lights everywhere... like Christmas in July...
O: Fuckin' July? Ya fuckin' numbnuts, memory you ain't got, fuck... like Christmas in July in September is what ya meant to say...
P: September?
O: Like July in September... like ninety degrees, school's back in... the kids are at school, but we... we all graduated... nothing to do but cruise Nestor's lake in late night boat rides...
P: Drinking Hamms...
O: Boats we didn't even own or have any sorta technical rights to either operate or have in our possesssion like that one lawyer always said it...
P: Lawyer... yeah... fuckin' forgot... Lawyer don't drink any Hamms...
O: More for us! Haaa-haa!
P: Douchebags!
O: So we hit the shore... decide to check out the lights...
P: Bring along the Hamms, sounds like a party, bring along the Hamms, and we say when we get close... that it didn't sound like our sorta party in anyway...
O: Hardly any laughing...
P: Just sorta these chuckles... people with like really tight, their mouths all closed, tight mouths... that kinda laugh sorta thing...
O: They weren't playing no Bad Company either...
P: Yeah... so you?
O: No, it was me.
P: That's what I said, fuckbucket!
O: So, I go back to boat, and bring the radio up to the back of the tent, crank the fuckin' Bad Company!
P: No! It was Springsteen!
O: I thought you said it wasn't Springsteen... Bad Company you cranked...
P: In the boat was Bad Company! Springsteen when I had the radio by the tent; Springsteen's playing... fuckin' "Rosalita"...
O: Fuckin' classic song! Awesome! Like fifty minutes long!
P: Great song, undisputed by all!
O: I crank the radio up, hold it over my head.
P: Figure we bring the rock to those stuffed pricks.
O: But the batteries don't like the new volume so much... and, and, and!!! Fuckin' hilarious!
P: The radio shuts up quick, the, the uhhh... the what do you call it, the... uhh... the battery door...
O: The whole fuckin' compartment opens and like 16 D batteries smack me on the head...
P: Fuckin' classic...
O: Fuckin' hurt like hell, thought I was being attacked by some axe murderer or shit, fuckin' right on the head... those batteries... funny now, though...
P: Funny all the fuckin' time...
O: The party's still going, no one heard the Bruce, I'm jumping around swearing cuz my head's been crushed by batteries...
P: So, I have the idea.
O: The idea.
P: The idea.
O: The idea.
P: The idea.
O: The fuckin'...
P: The idea.
O: The fuckin' idea, man...
P: Restore your dignity.
O: Fuckin' batteries.
P: I show you the big... uhhh... whatsits... the things...
O: Ratchets.
P: Those ratchets, hold the straps... the straps...
O: The straps hold the huge fucking poles...
P: These poles... the whole west side of the tent...
O: Three poles, right?
P: Five poles.
O: No, no, no, no, it was three poles... five straps...
P: Three? Five? I...
O: Two at each corner. Then the center, there's one.
P: Right... that's right... so these ratchets... I show you how they work, cuz I helped set up my aunt's wedding tent that summer...
O: Yeah... the wind...
P: The fuckin' wind is pulling those straps tight...
O: Real tight... those fucking things are powerful... but the wind...
P: The wind, it comes and goes... the wind dies, you the pole bounces back a little toward the stake... meaning you can mess with the ratchet, open it up...
O: Five ratchets...
P: The wind, and we got five Hamms left...
O: And the old reel we found in the boat...
P: Perfect.
O: Fuckin' perfect-as-ever perfect...
P: So, the wind dies the pole bounces back, we grunt and open each one wide...
O: Like a big metal alligator.
P: Alligator goes open wide, and we shove the Hamms can in the jaws.
O: Then close the ratchet over the can... now the fuckin' ratchet is locked in place...
P: But not the, not the, the regular ratchet lock! A full can of beer. Beer can. Can of Hamms beer holds it locked down...
O: Do that with all five of them bastards...
P: My fuckin' hands were bleeding from all the pulling and forcing...
O: Then the fishing line...
P: Tie one end to each beer tab, gather'em all together, head down to the shore by the boat...
O: Wait for the biggest fuckin' wind of the night.
P: And PULL!!
O: Shit!
P: Oh shit, that was some sight!
O: Oh, shit! Beer spraying outta those cans!
P: Fuckin' jaws crush those cans in a snap...
O: Half a snap...
P: The straps slide through the ratchets, the poles...
O: I can still hear the screaming.
P: Yeah.
O: Right on the orchestra.
P: People running outta the other end...
O: They spot us, and get suspicious...
P: But... too late...
O: We're in the boat and headed out!
P: Except.
O: Yeah. Motor doesn't work.
P: That's why we're at the golf club thing in the first place.
O: Unfortunately, neither one of us were good swimmers.
P: Shit.
O: I did too.
P: Five years. Five fuckin' years.
O: What a waste... five prime beers of our youth we'll never get back again.
P: Wasted five perfectly good Hamms.
O: And two violinists.
P: Sad.
O: We are no longer allowed to purchase or otherwise have in our possession any qauntity of Hamms Beer.
P: Too bad. It's so refreshing.
O: Well, just yesterday I made it under one thousand.
P: Shit, you're under one thousand already?
O: Already, it's been six years since we got out, Pat.
P: But I got over twelve hundred hours left.
O: Yep, just nine hundred ninety-eight for me, came in on some weekends.
P: Then you can... you can.
O: I get to buy Hamms again.
P: Shit, you're scoping that shit already...
O: Now I know where it's at, you scoping it for me.
P: The Fuck'n Go, shit...
O: Still kills me, fucking name, fucking funny.
P: Shit... you hoppin' my Hamms?
O: The fuck?
P: I said, you fuckin' hoppin' my fuckin' Hamms, Ollie?!
O: Fucking crazyass?
P: You're hoppin' my Hamms, Ollie!
O: No! No! Man, just, no... fuck!
P: My fuckin' legitimately scoped Hamms, Ollie!
O: My hours'll be done before, you can't even scope it yet!
P: Bullshit, Ollie! My fuckin' legit scoped Hamms fuckin' beer, Ollie!
O: I get it first... I'm done, the probation done, me, I get it!
P: Fuckin' no way! It's not about the fuckin' probation hours, Ollie, my fuckin' Hamms!!
O: Community service hours, Pat, mine, done so I get the Hamms!
P: You wouldn't know the Hamms was at the Fuck'n Go, without me fuckin' scoping it!
O: Bullshit, woulda found it, the hours done, the ol' Hamms detector switches on, I find, I find, beer... Hamms.
P: Bullshit!
O: Bullshit, bullshit!
P: I found it! I scoped the fuckin' Hamms... off, no fuckin' hoppin' my Hamms... no, not yours...
O: I got like almost a thousand hours left... not like I'm gonna get it now... we both know I can't do that...
P: Not yours!
O: We... like six months, then I can buy it...
P: No you fuckin' can't, Ollie... I scoped the fuckin' Hamms, Ollie!!
O: Fine ya fucker! Fine!
P: Yeah?
O: Fine, yeah.
P: Yeah?
O: Fucking yeah, alright!
P: Really?
O: Fuck...
P: Oh.
O: ...... Won't be the Hamms you scoped in six months, dickweed.
P: You fucker!!!
O: Just saying, not the same Hamms, you scoped this... not the same, new shipment...
P: Fuckin' is, fucker!
O: Some other jackass'll hop it before then... someone else with your Hamms.
P: Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck.... you're fuckin' right... fuck!!
O: Yep.
P: Fuck.
O: Yeah.
P: Shit...
O: What do ya do 'bout it?
P: Shit...
O: What do ya do?
P: Fuck.
O: You said that.
P: Okay, okay, okay, okay................. we gotta get that Hamms.
O: What?
P: Gotta get it.
O: The Hamms?
P: We gotta get it.
O: We ain't allowed to purchase or otherwise have in our possession any qauntity of Hamms Beer.
P: No, I know that, but...
O: Not 'til the probation period's done, Pat, ya fuckin' know that, you fuckin' with...
P: I know that, but...
O: Cauz like six years man, fuckin' hard ass six years, only six months left, you only...
P: Yeah, 'bout seven months... but...
O: Then it's done.
P: Right, but...
O: It's done, and the Hamms is ours...
P: But...
O: Buy all the fuckin' Hamms we want.
P: We don't...
O: Fuckin' take a bath in Hamms, the beer refreshing.
P: We get it, so no one else can hop it, before we're done, then we drink it together...
O: Fuck'n Go's closed anyway, not this late, not open.
P: No problem... we break in, grab the Hamms and go...
O: We can't have any in our possession... means we can't, can't uhhh... possess it.
P: Yeah, we'll store it under my neighbor's shed... fucker ain't touched that thing in a loooonnggg fuckin' time.
O: No, fuck no, Pat!
P: Be good for the Hamms, age it for seven months, shit'll be sweet... dirt-aged, good shit...
O: Five years we did, five, fuck, no, I can't...
P: Someone'll hop the Hamms, Ollie. Can't have that... can't have the...
O: Fuck.
P: Can't have the Hamms hopped, my buddy! See, we hide it, no possession, right...
O: Seems like, but...
P: So that's the idea...
O: The idea?
P: The idea.
O: The idea.
P: The fucking idea.
O: Perfect-as-ever perfect?
P: Wouldn't fuck with ya, man.
O: We don't possess it?
P: No, so we don't get in trouble. Probation's still good.
O: We're good?
P: Break in, free the beer, transport it to my neighbor's shed... boom... it's done...
O: It's done?
P: Done.
O: Done.
P: Done.
O: Five years, man...
P: Shit... you're right.
O: Was a long time, Pat.
P: Yeah... then we'll grab some jerky too.
O: Jerky?
P: Why not. But, don't fuckin' lose sight of the goal... it's really 'bout the Hamms.
O: For the Hamms?
P: Fuckin' right.
O: Okay.
P: For the Hamms.
O: The Hamms.
P: Fuckin' A.
O: Yeah, the Hamms.
P: The Hamms.
O: Fuckin' A!
P: We better head...
O: Bar's closing down...
P: And we got a ways to walk.
O: Good thing 'bout losing your license, ya can drink more.
P: Yeah, let's go... Hamms is waiting.
(head offstage as lights start fading, their voices grow more distant)
O: Shit.
P: Windy as fuck tonight.
O: Wind smells kinda funny, Pat.
P: The Hamms, Ollie, the Hamms.
O: Yeah, the Hamms.
(lights out)
(end)
January 8, 2007
A Play A Day #270
Hill And Dale
Cast:
Hill
Dale
Setting: Outside, anywhere
Hill: Dale?
Dale: Yeah, Hill?
Hill: I don't get it.
Dale: What don't you get?
Hill: Shapes in the ground, Dale.
Dale: What shapes in the ground, Hill?
Hill: You know, how the ground rises sometimes?
Dale: Yeah, I reckon I do know all about the ground rising.
Hill: I feel comfortable up there on those risings in the ground.
Dale: Sure you do, Hill, and you should feel comfort up there.
Hill: How bout you, Dale; what ground shapes you like?
Dale: I reckon I like flat places, between rises.
Hill: Like how flat are these places, Dale?
Dale: Kinda smooth, flat and long places.
Hill: You like smooth sorta flat land?
Dale: Places where you can stretch.
Hill: I guess I can see all that.
Dale: Can see for miles there.
Hill: In smooth, flat land?
Dale: Where I like to be.
Hill: Must be nice.
Dale: Yep, it is.
Hill: Okay then.
Dale: Alright.
Hill: Yeah.
Dale: Oh.
Hill: Yeah?
Dale: Well, I...
Hill: What is it?
Dale: Ah, it's nothing.
Hill: It's nothing?
Dale: Nothing.
Hill: Weird.
Dale: Sorry.
Hill: Flats?
Dale: Flats.
Hill: No rises?
Dale: Little rises.
Hill: Those are fine?
Dale: Yeah, don't mind those.
Hill: They're what I like best.
Dale: Yeah, we've covered all that.
Hill: Yeah, I guess we covered it all.
Dale: Only one thing left to do then, Hill.
Hill: I know just what you're gonna say here, Dale.
Dale: Well, gosh golly; I know what I'm gonna say here too.
Hill: You don't even need to say it, since we both already know.
Dale: But, I just gotta say it, Hill. It's churning me up inside.
Hill: Alright, if you think it's for the best; you say it, Dale.
Dale: Can you take the iron shackle offa my left ankle now?
Hill: I really wish that I could that for you, Dale.
Dale: Why ain'tcha gonna do it for me, Hill.
Hill: Can't have ya wandering again.
Dale: I don't go wandering, Hill.
Hill: You wander far, Dale.
Dale: I do not wander.
Hill: Over the rises.
Dale: Over the rises?
Hill: And the flats.
Dale: And the flats?
Hill: You do that.
Dale: I do not.
Hill: You do.
Dale: I do?
Hill: Yep.
Dale: No.
Hill: Yep.
Dale: Ah.
Hill: So.
Dale: Ah.
Hill: Well.
Dale: But why?
Hill: I don't know.
Dale: You say I wander.
Hill: Yep, that's what I say.
Dale: Over the rises and the flats?
Hill: Over the rises and across the flats.
Dale: But we tend to livestock; we gotta wander.
Hill: True enough, but we can't have you wandering.
Dale: I'm leading the livestock across the stark landscape.
Hill: That's nice, but we're supposed to be following the livestock.
Dale: So you gotta shackle my leg to get that point across?
Hill: You didn't seem to listen to reason at first.
Dale: I'm always listen to your reason, Hill.
Hill: But you wouldn't this time, Dale.
Dale: The livestock need some wander.
Hill: Not that much wander, Dale.
Dale: It's good for their legs.
Hill: It runs'em roughshod.
Dale: Exercise is good.
Hill: Yeah, but...
Dale: Yeah?
Hill: Ahh.
Dale: Oh.
Hill: Look.
Dale: At what?
Hill: Landscape.
Dale: The rises and flats.
Hill: Can't be out there all the time.
Dale: Why can't I be out there all the time?
Hill: We'd give the rises and the flats some bad names.
Dale: Oh, never thought of it that way.
Hill: Well, you should.
Dale: I guess I will.
Hill: You should.
Dale: I will.
Hill: Good.
Dale: Okay.
(long
pause,
lights
slow
fade)
Hill: Now.
Dale: Yeah?
Hill: Tomorrow.
Dale: For tomorrow?
Hill: The rises.
(pause a bit)
Dale: Hill?
Hill: Yeah, Dale?
Dale: The leg shackle?
(pause until lights are out)
Hill: I'm thinking about it, Dale.
(end)
Cast:
Hill
Dale
Setting: Outside, anywhere
Hill: Dale?
Dale: Yeah, Hill?
Hill: I don't get it.
Dale: What don't you get?
Hill: Shapes in the ground, Dale.
Dale: What shapes in the ground, Hill?
Hill: You know, how the ground rises sometimes?
Dale: Yeah, I reckon I do know all about the ground rising.
Hill: I feel comfortable up there on those risings in the ground.
Dale: Sure you do, Hill, and you should feel comfort up there.
Hill: How bout you, Dale; what ground shapes you like?
Dale: I reckon I like flat places, between rises.
Hill: Like how flat are these places, Dale?
Dale: Kinda smooth, flat and long places.
Hill: You like smooth sorta flat land?
Dale: Places where you can stretch.
Hill: I guess I can see all that.
Dale: Can see for miles there.
Hill: In smooth, flat land?
Dale: Where I like to be.
Hill: Must be nice.
Dale: Yep, it is.
Hill: Okay then.
Dale: Alright.
Hill: Yeah.
Dale: Oh.
Hill: Yeah?
Dale: Well, I...
Hill: What is it?
Dale: Ah, it's nothing.
Hill: It's nothing?
Dale: Nothing.
Hill: Weird.
Dale: Sorry.
Hill: Flats?
Dale: Flats.
Hill: No rises?
Dale: Little rises.
Hill: Those are fine?
Dale: Yeah, don't mind those.
Hill: They're what I like best.
Dale: Yeah, we've covered all that.
Hill: Yeah, I guess we covered it all.
Dale: Only one thing left to do then, Hill.
Hill: I know just what you're gonna say here, Dale.
Dale: Well, gosh golly; I know what I'm gonna say here too.
Hill: You don't even need to say it, since we both already know.
Dale: But, I just gotta say it, Hill. It's churning me up inside.
Hill: Alright, if you think it's for the best; you say it, Dale.
Dale: Can you take the iron shackle offa my left ankle now?
Hill: I really wish that I could that for you, Dale.
Dale: Why ain'tcha gonna do it for me, Hill.
Hill: Can't have ya wandering again.
Dale: I don't go wandering, Hill.
Hill: You wander far, Dale.
Dale: I do not wander.
Hill: Over the rises.
Dale: Over the rises?
Hill: And the flats.
Dale: And the flats?
Hill: You do that.
Dale: I do not.
Hill: You do.
Dale: I do?
Hill: Yep.
Dale: No.
Hill: Yep.
Dale: Ah.
Hill: So.
Dale: Ah.
Hill: Well.
Dale: But why?
Hill: I don't know.
Dale: You say I wander.
Hill: Yep, that's what I say.
Dale: Over the rises and the flats?
Hill: Over the rises and across the flats.
Dale: But we tend to livestock; we gotta wander.
Hill: True enough, but we can't have you wandering.
Dale: I'm leading the livestock across the stark landscape.
Hill: That's nice, but we're supposed to be following the livestock.
Dale: So you gotta shackle my leg to get that point across?
Hill: You didn't seem to listen to reason at first.
Dale: I'm always listen to your reason, Hill.
Hill: But you wouldn't this time, Dale.
Dale: The livestock need some wander.
Hill: Not that much wander, Dale.
Dale: It's good for their legs.
Hill: It runs'em roughshod.
Dale: Exercise is good.
Hill: Yeah, but...
Dale: Yeah?
Hill: Ahh.
Dale: Oh.
Hill: Look.
Dale: At what?
Hill: Landscape.
Dale: The rises and flats.
Hill: Can't be out there all the time.
Dale: Why can't I be out there all the time?
Hill: We'd give the rises and the flats some bad names.
Dale: Oh, never thought of it that way.
Hill: Well, you should.
Dale: I guess I will.
Hill: You should.
Dale: I will.
Hill: Good.
Dale: Okay.
(long
pause,
lights
slow
fade)
Hill: Now.
Dale: Yeah?
Hill: Tomorrow.
Dale: For tomorrow?
Hill: The rises.
(pause a bit)
Dale: Hill?
Hill: Yeah, Dale?
Dale: The leg shackle?
(pause until lights are out)
Hill: I'm thinking about it, Dale.
(end)
January 7, 2007
A Play A Day #269
Waltz Love
Cast:
Roderick
Matilda
Setting: The Ball Room, of course
(A dramatic waltz swells from the speakers, lowering during lines, then snapping to full volume during the dancing, enter waltzing Matilda and Roderick, impeccably dressed and coiffed, they dance all around the stage for a while, eventually she spins away, he pulls her back, standing rigid and face to face)
Roderick: You are as a rainbow; yet I am fraught with gray.
(more dancing, another move away and she snaps him back, rigid, face to face)
Matilda: You sparkle, you glow; I am unmoved.
(sequence)
R: Your beauty quivers my soft flesh; I am lost in waves.
(sequence)
M: Your granite features lighten my head; I, too, quiver, seasick.
(sequence, taking less time)
R: You make the queen seem a pauper; but I discount your charity.
(sequence, again shorter)
M: The king begs from your disburser; yet I charitably countenance your countenance.
(sequence, faster, shorter, meaner)
R: Your scent wafts unbidden; my nostrils and nausea flare.
(sequence, faster still, shorter still, even meaner)
M: Your aroma bestills my heart and distills my bile.
(sequence, extremely fast and angry, though they are still dancing well)
R: Your grace confuses comely with contumely.
(sequence, harsh, bitter)
M: Your steps trod heavy; spirits die underfoot.
(one or two steps, then a harsh snap, nose to nose, long pause, sharp breathing, expressions of fierce pride and loathing)
R: Fornication?
(one or two steps, same pose again, but no pause)
M: I thought you'd never ask.
(waltz swells, they get in full dance posture, hold, then snap out of it and dash offstage quickly with Roderick trying to spank Matilda, she giggles with delight, he laughs with lust)
(lights out)
(end)
Cast:
Roderick
Matilda
Setting: The Ball Room, of course
(A dramatic waltz swells from the speakers, lowering during lines, then snapping to full volume during the dancing, enter waltzing Matilda and Roderick, impeccably dressed and coiffed, they dance all around the stage for a while, eventually she spins away, he pulls her back, standing rigid and face to face)
Roderick: You are as a rainbow; yet I am fraught with gray.
(more dancing, another move away and she snaps him back, rigid, face to face)
Matilda: You sparkle, you glow; I am unmoved.
(sequence)
R: Your beauty quivers my soft flesh; I am lost in waves.
(sequence)
M: Your granite features lighten my head; I, too, quiver, seasick.
(sequence, taking less time)
R: You make the queen seem a pauper; but I discount your charity.
(sequence, again shorter)
M: The king begs from your disburser; yet I charitably countenance your countenance.
(sequence, faster, shorter, meaner)
R: Your scent wafts unbidden; my nostrils and nausea flare.
(sequence, faster still, shorter still, even meaner)
M: Your aroma bestills my heart and distills my bile.
(sequence, extremely fast and angry, though they are still dancing well)
R: Your grace confuses comely with contumely.
(sequence, harsh, bitter)
M: Your steps trod heavy; spirits die underfoot.
(one or two steps, then a harsh snap, nose to nose, long pause, sharp breathing, expressions of fierce pride and loathing)
R: Fornication?
(one or two steps, same pose again, but no pause)
M: I thought you'd never ask.
(waltz swells, they get in full dance posture, hold, then snap out of it and dash offstage quickly with Roderick trying to spank Matilda, she giggles with delight, he laughs with lust)
(lights out)
(end)
January 6, 2007
A Play A Day #268
Little Things
Cast:
Clara
Obi
Setting: Living room, a sofa.
(Soft music, lights up on Obi and Clara, laying down, Clara is on top of Obi, moving in for a big kiss)
Clara: Yeah... this is what you want?
Obi: Oooohhh, yeah.
C: (sour face, pulls away slightly) Eww, breath.
O: Ohh...
C: Please say something that doesn't require you to breathe.
O: Ahh, I'm not sure...
C: You know what... (sitting up) Let's have a drink.
O: I'd rather continue here.
C: I know, but you can't expect me to kiss that, when...
O: You're breath isn't exactly ambrosia either.
C: What... how? That was mean.
O: And you weren't, with my breath?
C: I was honest.
O: Me too.
C: (holds hand in front of her mouth blows into it, sniffs) No, you weren't; my breath smells fine.
O: You can't really smell your own breath.
C: Yes you can, watch. (does breath test again) Nothing.
O: That doesn't work.
C: It does; my breath doesn't stink.
O: Must be your body then.
C: Wha... that was so...
O: Just guessing... if it's not your breath, then...
C: You have nose hairs!
O: (pause) It's going to be like this then?
C: Black nose hair.
O: Okay. I guess it is.
C: You do.
O: Great. So do you.
C: I do not!
O: You do. Everyone has nose hair.
C: Not bald people.
O: Are you serious?
C: Yes.
O: Bald people have nose hair, Clara.
C: No, they've lost their hair.
O: Clara... it... the hair on their heads... they lose that... but other hair doesn't just disappear.
C: No, like those cancer patients, it's all gone.
O: I think that's a different case... and I wouldn't know, and I don't think you would either.
C: I saw a documentary on it, Obi.
O: Okay, great... so we both have nose hair, and people undergoing chemotherapy may or may not have nose hair. Goo. This relationship is moving along well ... a couple hours, and we're on nose hair.
C: I was just saying not everyone has nose hair.
O: Great... so everyone who is not being irradiated has nose hair. I'm pretty sure that's right, and I know that you do.
C: Yours stick out.
O: (starts digging at his nose, grabbing hold of a nose hair) I style them that way.
C: Gross, stop playing with your nose hair!
O: (moving a finger to Clara's nose) Okay...
C: And don't play with mine!
O: Ah-hah! You have nose hair.
C: No, I don't!
O: You just told me not to play with yours!
C: My nose! My nose! Not any...
O: Your nose hair! You told me to not play with my nose hair, then you said to not play with yours! That could only mean that you...
C: No, I didn't say that!
O: ...didn't want me to play with your nose hair!
C: Why do you have to be like this?
O: Like what? You brought up nose hair.
C: I was talking about your breath.
O: Then you started in on my nose hair!
C: You said I stunk!
O: I did not... well, I was being glib, because you were so pushy about my breath.
C: I was just stating a fact.
O: Then when I said your breath was less-than-fresh, you proceeded to perform some pseudo-medical, self-breath-sniffing procedure and denied what I said.
C: Because my breath does not stink!
O: If it doesn't then it must be your body odor.
C: Starting all over again?
O: That's the ludicrous thing; we're supposed to be rehearsing a love scene, Clara. Not bickering about stupid things like this, breath and nose hair.
C: Okay, fine, fine. I'm a professional. I can work with this.
O: I've dealt with worse situations before.
C: I was just raising an objection.
O: Sorry about the body odor stuff; I felt a little defensive.
C: I know. I'm just nervous.
O: Yeah, me too; I... uhh...
C: It's happened to me before; so I nitpick...
O: ...to keep your emotions in check?
C: (nods) And I really need to keep them in check... with you.
O: Uh-huh ... same... same here.
C: We have to do this scene eventually, and I would like to do it now.
O: We'll see where it takes us. Maybe it's what we both really want?
(Clara eases Obi flat on the couch and starts moving in for the kiss)
C: Yeah... this is what you want?
O: Oooohhh, yeah.
(Lights start to fade, a passionate kiss starts, lights out, then back up quickly and starkly)
C: (hopping off Obi with haste, fanning her mouth and walking quickly offstage, her body and actions suggest retching) Awwwccckkkk... gross! It's like skunk and garlic!
(lights fade quickly on Obi checking his own breath in his cupped hand)
(end)
Cast:
Clara
Obi
Setting: Living room, a sofa.
(Soft music, lights up on Obi and Clara, laying down, Clara is on top of Obi, moving in for a big kiss)
Clara: Yeah... this is what you want?
Obi: Oooohhh, yeah.
C: (sour face, pulls away slightly) Eww, breath.
O: Ohh...
C: Please say something that doesn't require you to breathe.
O: Ahh, I'm not sure...
C: You know what... (sitting up) Let's have a drink.
O: I'd rather continue here.
C: I know, but you can't expect me to kiss that, when...
O: You're breath isn't exactly ambrosia either.
C: What... how? That was mean.
O: And you weren't, with my breath?
C: I was honest.
O: Me too.
C: (holds hand in front of her mouth blows into it, sniffs) No, you weren't; my breath smells fine.
O: You can't really smell your own breath.
C: Yes you can, watch. (does breath test again) Nothing.
O: That doesn't work.
C: It does; my breath doesn't stink.
O: Must be your body then.
C: Wha... that was so...
O: Just guessing... if it's not your breath, then...
C: You have nose hairs!
O: (pause) It's going to be like this then?
C: Black nose hair.
O: Okay. I guess it is.
C: You do.
O: Great. So do you.
C: I do not!
O: You do. Everyone has nose hair.
C: Not bald people.
O: Are you serious?
C: Yes.
O: Bald people have nose hair, Clara.
C: No, they've lost their hair.
O: Clara... it... the hair on their heads... they lose that... but other hair doesn't just disappear.
C: No, like those cancer patients, it's all gone.
O: I think that's a different case... and I wouldn't know, and I don't think you would either.
C: I saw a documentary on it, Obi.
O: Okay, great... so we both have nose hair, and people undergoing chemotherapy may or may not have nose hair. Goo. This relationship is moving along well ... a couple hours, and we're on nose hair.
C: I was just saying not everyone has nose hair.
O: Great... so everyone who is not being irradiated has nose hair. I'm pretty sure that's right, and I know that you do.
C: Yours stick out.
O: (starts digging at his nose, grabbing hold of a nose hair) I style them that way.
C: Gross, stop playing with your nose hair!
O: (moving a finger to Clara's nose) Okay...
C: And don't play with mine!
O: Ah-hah! You have nose hair.
C: No, I don't!
O: You just told me not to play with yours!
C: My nose! My nose! Not any...
O: Your nose hair! You told me to not play with my nose hair, then you said to not play with yours! That could only mean that you...
C: No, I didn't say that!
O: ...didn't want me to play with your nose hair!
C: Why do you have to be like this?
O: Like what? You brought up nose hair.
C: I was talking about your breath.
O: Then you started in on my nose hair!
C: You said I stunk!
O: I did not... well, I was being glib, because you were so pushy about my breath.
C: I was just stating a fact.
O: Then when I said your breath was less-than-fresh, you proceeded to perform some pseudo-medical, self-breath-sniffing procedure and denied what I said.
C: Because my breath does not stink!
O: If it doesn't then it must be your body odor.
C: Starting all over again?
O: That's the ludicrous thing; we're supposed to be rehearsing a love scene, Clara. Not bickering about stupid things like this, breath and nose hair.
C: Okay, fine, fine. I'm a professional. I can work with this.
O: I've dealt with worse situations before.
C: I was just raising an objection.
O: Sorry about the body odor stuff; I felt a little defensive.
C: I know. I'm just nervous.
O: Yeah, me too; I... uhh...
C: It's happened to me before; so I nitpick...
O: ...to keep your emotions in check?
C: (nods) And I really need to keep them in check... with you.
O: Uh-huh ... same... same here.
C: We have to do this scene eventually, and I would like to do it now.
O: We'll see where it takes us. Maybe it's what we both really want?
(Clara eases Obi flat on the couch and starts moving in for the kiss)
C: Yeah... this is what you want?
O: Oooohhh, yeah.
(Lights start to fade, a passionate kiss starts, lights out, then back up quickly and starkly)
C: (hopping off Obi with haste, fanning her mouth and walking quickly offstage, her body and actions suggest retching) Awwwccckkkk... gross! It's like skunk and garlic!
(lights fade quickly on Obi checking his own breath in his cupped hand)
(end)
January 5, 2007
A Play A Day #267
Poeticus Interruptus
Cast:
Marcia
Lowell
Jimmy
Audience - adlib only
Roger
Setting: Bookstore
Marcia: Welcome, everyone, welcome! To the fourth and final installment of Meander Books' Lyrical Chair reading series. We are very excited to welcome back to our fair city one of our own, Lowell Bateson Corball! A favorite son among favorite sons, Mr. Corball's poetry has been called gritty, both hyper- and surrealistic, and a necessary cross-breeze in the stuffy genre of too-too clever wordsmiths and clinically-dry poseurs. Here to read tonight some selected poems from his latest collection, "Royal Falters", a compilation of verse written about or inspired by this fabulous city. Please welcome to the Lyrical Chair, Mr. Lowell Corball.
(Audience applauds and adlibs excitedly, Lowell walks onto the platform, sits in the chair and opens his book)
Lowell: (very dry) Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for the nice introduction, Marcia. And thank you for coming to this reading. I'm always surprised that so many people attend my readings, but then I remember that at least eighty percent are here to answer the question: Isn't he dead yet?
(Audience laughter, adlibs)
Lowell: The answer is, despite my unhealthy appearance, "no". I am not dead. I wasn't dead fifteen years ago, and I wasn't dead five years ago; both suicides failed successfully.
(Audience laughter, a little uneasiness, adlibs)
Lowell: So here I am to read a few favorite poems from my new book; a few poems which, like showing up tonight... a few that remind me that I am alive. However unfortunate that may be.
(Audience laughter, a little more uneasiness, adlibs)
Lowell: Starting tonight with the title poem, "Royal Falters"....
(Audience excited, adlibs)
Lowell: In the rusted car, all my silicon dreams came through / busted rubber in the back seat / streetlights pry life from the corners of your eyes / the streets I wandered, the high school never finished / the streets where we found our dreams, lost that same night // Where the junction of west and north / the arteries collapse...
Jimmy: (shouting out from his seat in the audience) You sing it, Lowball!
(some chuckles from audience)
Lowell: (smiling) The arteries collapse and the traffic wishes / to founder downhill, south and east...
Jimmy: You're talking about MacArthur and Prefect, right, Lowball!?
Lowell: Right.
Jimmy: Yeah! Where the hill is, and you can't see shit-all when you're coming in on Pre?
(some shushing from the audience, some uncomfortable laughter)
Lowell: Yes.
Jimmy: That shit's dangerous! I been in two accidents there myself!
(more direct adlibs to Jimmy, telling him to knock it off, some laughter)
Lowell: Very dangerous.
Jimmy: Shit, Lowball, you and I got fucked up that one night, sixteen?
(audience adlibs die down as it appears Lowell is not minding the interruption)
Lowell: Seventeen, Jimmy.
Jimmy: Seventeen... shit, we were that young once upon a time, huh, Lowball?
Lowell: Yeah, we were.
Jimmy: You were messed up that night, man! What was it?
Lowell: Whiskey from the micks, weed from the spics.
(some gasps and adlibs from the audience)
Jimmy: Yeah, as usual. Shouldn't have been driving like that, I guess.
Lowell: What, too fast?
Jimmy: Too fucked!
Lowell: Yeah. But, everyone drove drunk and high back then.
Jimmy: I didn't think your shit Ford'd make it up Pre hill going that fast.
Lowell: We we're head-down, air-bound.
Jimmy: (makes loud slapping noise) Slam! Right into her!
Lowell: Sad, sad. That was the girl I would have killed to fuck again.
(more shock, some audience members leaving, adlibs)
Jimmy: But, you just fucking killed her.
Lowell: Shit, never would have known she'd be out that late, by herself? I mean, of all the people in the city, you know, it had to be her.
Jimmy: She was wearing all black too; like she was asking for it.
Lowell: We got out of there fast!
Jimmy: Fucking right, Lowball. Good thing she was light. Got her body in the trunk...
Lowell: Ahh... (laughing) remember we went about a hundred feet further and stopped for her other shoe?
Jimmy: Course I remember, you made me pick it up! I said you're the one fucking hit her, but you were driving; so I guess that was best.
Lowell: Where'd we dump the body? I was so gone...
Jimmy: No idea, Lowball. But, the police never knew either.
(more audience leaving, lots of disgusted adlibs)
Lowell: I have to admit, never would have known she was pregnant.
Jimmy: I can't believe her mom told the papers that! Probably trying to get more sympathy.
Lowell: It bugs me sometimes, wondering.
Jimmy: Hey! If it was yours, Lowball, you took out two problems at once!
(almost all the audience has left, some retching sounds as a few people leave, adlibbing pretty horrible things to both men)
Lowell: Yeah, yeah, I know.
(long pause as Jimmy looks around at the one or two remaining audience members, one black, one white)
Jimmy: Say, you ever hear from Marco any more?
Lowell: The Stone?
Jimmy: Yeah, The Stone had a job for me down in Niggertown... I took care of it for him; fucker never paid up.
(white audience member looks at black audience member, decides to leave)
Lowell: Fucking crooked dagos; they never fork it over when they got the Family backing'em up.
Jimmy: You still married?
Lowell: So to speak.
Jimmy: Yeah?
Lowell: Well, we're not divorced, but she's in a coma.
Jimmy: Cool.
Lowell: Yep, now I can fuck who I want.
Jimmy: You can still fuck?
Lowell: Well, I've got enough money to pay people to fuck me. So... yeah... in a way, I still got it.
(long pause, Lowell finally addresses the black man sitting alone in the audience)
Lowell: Hey, man, we're done. No more poems. I don't like readings, and I really don't like signing books for these pretentious asses. So, now, I don't have to do either.
(pause)
Jimmy: What's your name?
Roger: Roger.
Jimmy: You want to join us? Lowball's whole night just opened up for him.
Lowell: We've got some great whiskey in the car. Don't worry, I don't drink like that anymore.
Jimmy: You put up with enough of our bullshit; you win, I guess. Just out on the town for the night? A poet, an actor and the new guy.
Roger: Sure, sure. Sounds good.
(they start to leave)
Lowell: Goodbye, Marcia. We'll do this again sometime?
(Jimmy and Roger laugh)
Jimmy: Let's go, Lowball... whiskey waiting.
(they exit, lights fade on Marcia in her chair on the platform, eyes wide open, blinking in a stupefied manner)
(end)
Cast:
Marcia
Lowell
Jimmy
Audience - adlib only
Roger
Setting: Bookstore
Marcia: Welcome, everyone, welcome! To the fourth and final installment of Meander Books' Lyrical Chair reading series. We are very excited to welcome back to our fair city one of our own, Lowell Bateson Corball! A favorite son among favorite sons, Mr. Corball's poetry has been called gritty, both hyper- and surrealistic, and a necessary cross-breeze in the stuffy genre of too-too clever wordsmiths and clinically-dry poseurs. Here to read tonight some selected poems from his latest collection, "Royal Falters", a compilation of verse written about or inspired by this fabulous city. Please welcome to the Lyrical Chair, Mr. Lowell Corball.
(Audience applauds and adlibs excitedly, Lowell walks onto the platform, sits in the chair and opens his book)
Lowell: (very dry) Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for the nice introduction, Marcia. And thank you for coming to this reading. I'm always surprised that so many people attend my readings, but then I remember that at least eighty percent are here to answer the question: Isn't he dead yet?
(Audience laughter, adlibs)
Lowell: The answer is, despite my unhealthy appearance, "no". I am not dead. I wasn't dead fifteen years ago, and I wasn't dead five years ago; both suicides failed successfully.
(Audience laughter, a little uneasiness, adlibs)
Lowell: So here I am to read a few favorite poems from my new book; a few poems which, like showing up tonight... a few that remind me that I am alive. However unfortunate that may be.
(Audience laughter, a little more uneasiness, adlibs)
Lowell: Starting tonight with the title poem, "Royal Falters"....
(Audience excited, adlibs)
Lowell: In the rusted car, all my silicon dreams came through / busted rubber in the back seat / streetlights pry life from the corners of your eyes / the streets I wandered, the high school never finished / the streets where we found our dreams, lost that same night // Where the junction of west and north / the arteries collapse...
Jimmy: (shouting out from his seat in the audience) You sing it, Lowball!
(some chuckles from audience)
Lowell: (smiling) The arteries collapse and the traffic wishes / to founder downhill, south and east...
Jimmy: You're talking about MacArthur and Prefect, right, Lowball!?
Lowell: Right.
Jimmy: Yeah! Where the hill is, and you can't see shit-all when you're coming in on Pre?
(some shushing from the audience, some uncomfortable laughter)
Lowell: Yes.
Jimmy: That shit's dangerous! I been in two accidents there myself!
(more direct adlibs to Jimmy, telling him to knock it off, some laughter)
Lowell: Very dangerous.
Jimmy: Shit, Lowball, you and I got fucked up that one night, sixteen?
(audience adlibs die down as it appears Lowell is not minding the interruption)
Lowell: Seventeen, Jimmy.
Jimmy: Seventeen... shit, we were that young once upon a time, huh, Lowball?
Lowell: Yeah, we were.
Jimmy: You were messed up that night, man! What was it?
Lowell: Whiskey from the micks, weed from the spics.
(some gasps and adlibs from the audience)
Jimmy: Yeah, as usual. Shouldn't have been driving like that, I guess.
Lowell: What, too fast?
Jimmy: Too fucked!
Lowell: Yeah. But, everyone drove drunk and high back then.
Jimmy: I didn't think your shit Ford'd make it up Pre hill going that fast.
Lowell: We we're head-down, air-bound.
Jimmy: (makes loud slapping noise) Slam! Right into her!
Lowell: Sad, sad. That was the girl I would have killed to fuck again.
(more shock, some audience members leaving, adlibs)
Jimmy: But, you just fucking killed her.
Lowell: Shit, never would have known she'd be out that late, by herself? I mean, of all the people in the city, you know, it had to be her.
Jimmy: She was wearing all black too; like she was asking for it.
Lowell: We got out of there fast!
Jimmy: Fucking right, Lowball. Good thing she was light. Got her body in the trunk...
Lowell: Ahh... (laughing) remember we went about a hundred feet further and stopped for her other shoe?
Jimmy: Course I remember, you made me pick it up! I said you're the one fucking hit her, but you were driving; so I guess that was best.
Lowell: Where'd we dump the body? I was so gone...
Jimmy: No idea, Lowball. But, the police never knew either.
(more audience leaving, lots of disgusted adlibs)
Lowell: I have to admit, never would have known she was pregnant.
Jimmy: I can't believe her mom told the papers that! Probably trying to get more sympathy.
Lowell: It bugs me sometimes, wondering.
Jimmy: Hey! If it was yours, Lowball, you took out two problems at once!
(almost all the audience has left, some retching sounds as a few people leave, adlibbing pretty horrible things to both men)
Lowell: Yeah, yeah, I know.
(long pause as Jimmy looks around at the one or two remaining audience members, one black, one white)
Jimmy: Say, you ever hear from Marco any more?
Lowell: The Stone?
Jimmy: Yeah, The Stone had a job for me down in Niggertown... I took care of it for him; fucker never paid up.
(white audience member looks at black audience member, decides to leave)
Lowell: Fucking crooked dagos; they never fork it over when they got the Family backing'em up.
Jimmy: You still married?
Lowell: So to speak.
Jimmy: Yeah?
Lowell: Well, we're not divorced, but she's in a coma.
Jimmy: Cool.
Lowell: Yep, now I can fuck who I want.
Jimmy: You can still fuck?
Lowell: Well, I've got enough money to pay people to fuck me. So... yeah... in a way, I still got it.
(long pause, Lowell finally addresses the black man sitting alone in the audience)
Lowell: Hey, man, we're done. No more poems. I don't like readings, and I really don't like signing books for these pretentious asses. So, now, I don't have to do either.
(pause)
Jimmy: What's your name?
Roger: Roger.
Jimmy: You want to join us? Lowball's whole night just opened up for him.
Lowell: We've got some great whiskey in the car. Don't worry, I don't drink like that anymore.
Jimmy: You put up with enough of our bullshit; you win, I guess. Just out on the town for the night? A poet, an actor and the new guy.
Roger: Sure, sure. Sounds good.
(they start to leave)
Lowell: Goodbye, Marcia. We'll do this again sometime?
(Jimmy and Roger laugh)
Jimmy: Let's go, Lowball... whiskey waiting.
(they exit, lights fade on Marcia in her chair on the platform, eyes wide open, blinking in a stupefied manner)
(end)
January 4, 2007
A Play A Day #266
Determination
Cast:
Sy
Ty
Waiter
Setting: Restaurant.
Sy: She's not my type.
Ty: She is.
Sy: I like my women to be smarter than beautiful.
Ty: She's both.
Sy: Well...
Ty: It's perfect; you can't go wrong.
Sy: Get off my funnel.
Ty: What?
Sy: Lamplight dictates sponge.
Ty: Sy, what the hell are you saying?
Sy: Shit... did I say something weird again?
Ty: Ummm... yeah. Again?
Sy: This has been happening to me a lot. I think I caught something at that one bar we went to last week... the... uhh... what was it?
Ty: Le Philosophe?
Sy: Yeah, Le Philosophe.
Ty: You caught some sort of random speaking bug?
Sy: No. I say what comes out of my mind.
Ty: "Lamplight dictates..." uhhh... "sponge"? That's what you said.
Sy: Yeah, that's pretty weird.
Ty: So you're sick?
Sy: No, not really.
Ty: What then?
Sy: I say what's in my mind, but my mind says whatever it wants.
Ty: Okay... ummmm...?
Sy: (sighing) What my mind comes up with seems completely random to anyone hearing it.
Ty: So how is this something you caught at Le Philosophe?
Sy: Well... yes, I don't think I have free will anymore.
Ty: What do you mean?
Sy: I'm pretty sure I'm not controlling what I'm saying or doing anymore.
Ty: How?
Sy: Everything's been determined ahead of time.
Ty: No it hasn't. You're talking fine right now.
Sy: But it's all being done by me as an automaton... I'm a wind-up toy, Ty.
Ty: No, you're not. You're Sy. You are behaving according to free will right now.
Sy: Stimulus-response, that's all. No control.
Ty: That's nonsense.
Sy: No control. I swear.
(waiter approaches)
Waiter: Are you ready to order, sir?
Ty: Yes, I'll the big bowl garden salad with balsamic viniagrette on the side, and the house merlot, a large glass.
Waiter: And for you?
Sy: I'll have the flattened racoon covered in human feces.
Waiter: Raw or pan-seared?
Sy: Raw. And make sure you keep the fur on.
Waiter: Of course, and to drink?
Sy: A Diet Dysentery Fizz with a socket wrench.
Waiter: Thank you. (collects menus and leaves)
Sy: The morning after Le Philosophe, I woke up feeling funny, and it's been getting worse ever since. I don't even notice... what? Ty? What's wrong?
Ty: (pause) Racoon isn't even on the menu.
Sy: Is that what I ordered?
Ty: Covered in human feces?
Sy: Whoa... now it's happening to you.
Ty: No, that's what you ordered.
Sy: Gross, but remember, I didn't order it. It just happened.
Ty: But, the waiter didn't even bat an eye.
Sy: It's pre-determined. He wasn't supposed to notice or care.
Ty: But it's not on the menu!
Sy: Yeah. I believe you, because I have to.
Ty: Sy, this isn't funny. You have to ability to choose food that the restaurant actually serves, not some joke meal that no one would ever make.
Sy: No. Sorry. I know this is hard to believe.
Ty: You had better believe that this is... (Sy stabs him in the hand with his fork, Ty screams)
Sy: (holding his hands up to the imagined onlookers) Hey! Okay! Everything fine here people! (pointing to self) No free will! None at all! Fate is quite cruel. Please go back to your meals.
Ty: (has removed the fork, staunching the flow of blood with his napkin) What the hell...
Sy: Sorry, Ty. Not my fault.
Ty: Bullshit, it's not your fault.
Sy: No free will; I can't have done it. I mean I was the agent for the action, but I didn't control it in any way.
Ty: You're sick! No one else is controlling what you do or say! It's you, and you're sick!
Sy: I wish I could prove it to you in some way. Of course, it would only be possible to do so if it had been decided by external forces.
Ty: Repeat after me, Sy: I contrive slapping rainbows! (he sits back in shock)
Sy: See.
Ty: Did I... did I just say...?
Sy: That you contrive slapping rainbows? Uh-huh.
Ty: But... that... wait... that's what I wanted to say... so why...?
Sy: That's what someone or something wanted you to say; so, you said it. You had no choice.
Ty: No.
Sy: Yes. I'm afraid that's... (Ty stabs himself in the other hand with the fork and screams)
Ty: (to imagined onlookers) Sorry! That was me! Sorry! I did that! An accident; that's all! (leaves fork in his hand, staring at it)
Sy: Don't be so hard on yourself... you didn't do that!
Ty: This is all wrong. Sy! No one, I repeat, no one else controls what I do or what I say! It's simply not possible! Only I have the ability... (he continues speaking, but no sound comes out)
Sy: Can't hear you.
Ty: (more speaking, no sound)
Sy: Hey, don't worry; it's not your fault.
Ty: (continues his silent tirade, gesticulating his bloody forked hand wildly)
Sy: Welcome to the club.
Ty: (more silent speaking)
(lights fade)
(end)
Cast:
Sy
Ty
Waiter
Setting: Restaurant.
Sy: She's not my type.
Ty: She is.
Sy: I like my women to be smarter than beautiful.
Ty: She's both.
Sy: Well...
Ty: It's perfect; you can't go wrong.
Sy: Get off my funnel.
Ty: What?
Sy: Lamplight dictates sponge.
Ty: Sy, what the hell are you saying?
Sy: Shit... did I say something weird again?
Ty: Ummm... yeah. Again?
Sy: This has been happening to me a lot. I think I caught something at that one bar we went to last week... the... uhh... what was it?
Ty: Le Philosophe?
Sy: Yeah, Le Philosophe.
Ty: You caught some sort of random speaking bug?
Sy: No. I say what comes out of my mind.
Ty: "Lamplight dictates..." uhhh... "sponge"? That's what you said.
Sy: Yeah, that's pretty weird.
Ty: So you're sick?
Sy: No, not really.
Ty: What then?
Sy: I say what's in my mind, but my mind says whatever it wants.
Ty: Okay... ummmm...?
Sy: (sighing) What my mind comes up with seems completely random to anyone hearing it.
Ty: So how is this something you caught at Le Philosophe?
Sy: Well... yes, I don't think I have free will anymore.
Ty: What do you mean?
Sy: I'm pretty sure I'm not controlling what I'm saying or doing anymore.
Ty: How?
Sy: Everything's been determined ahead of time.
Ty: No it hasn't. You're talking fine right now.
Sy: But it's all being done by me as an automaton... I'm a wind-up toy, Ty.
Ty: No, you're not. You're Sy. You are behaving according to free will right now.
Sy: Stimulus-response, that's all. No control.
Ty: That's nonsense.
Sy: No control. I swear.
(waiter approaches)
Waiter: Are you ready to order, sir?
Ty: Yes, I'll the big bowl garden salad with balsamic viniagrette on the side, and the house merlot, a large glass.
Waiter: And for you?
Sy: I'll have the flattened racoon covered in human feces.
Waiter: Raw or pan-seared?
Sy: Raw. And make sure you keep the fur on.
Waiter: Of course, and to drink?
Sy: A Diet Dysentery Fizz with a socket wrench.
Waiter: Thank you. (collects menus and leaves)
Sy: The morning after Le Philosophe, I woke up feeling funny, and it's been getting worse ever since. I don't even notice... what? Ty? What's wrong?
Ty: (pause) Racoon isn't even on the menu.
Sy: Is that what I ordered?
Ty: Covered in human feces?
Sy: Whoa... now it's happening to you.
Ty: No, that's what you ordered.
Sy: Gross, but remember, I didn't order it. It just happened.
Ty: But, the waiter didn't even bat an eye.
Sy: It's pre-determined. He wasn't supposed to notice or care.
Ty: But it's not on the menu!
Sy: Yeah. I believe you, because I have to.
Ty: Sy, this isn't funny. You have to ability to choose food that the restaurant actually serves, not some joke meal that no one would ever make.
Sy: No. Sorry. I know this is hard to believe.
Ty: You had better believe that this is... (Sy stabs him in the hand with his fork, Ty screams)
Sy: (holding his hands up to the imagined onlookers) Hey! Okay! Everything fine here people! (pointing to self) No free will! None at all! Fate is quite cruel. Please go back to your meals.
Ty: (has removed the fork, staunching the flow of blood with his napkin) What the hell...
Sy: Sorry, Ty. Not my fault.
Ty: Bullshit, it's not your fault.
Sy: No free will; I can't have done it. I mean I was the agent for the action, but I didn't control it in any way.
Ty: You're sick! No one else is controlling what you do or say! It's you, and you're sick!
Sy: I wish I could prove it to you in some way. Of course, it would only be possible to do so if it had been decided by external forces.
Ty: Repeat after me, Sy: I contrive slapping rainbows! (he sits back in shock)
Sy: See.
Ty: Did I... did I just say...?
Sy: That you contrive slapping rainbows? Uh-huh.
Ty: But... that... wait... that's what I wanted to say... so why...?
Sy: That's what someone or something wanted you to say; so, you said it. You had no choice.
Ty: No.
Sy: Yes. I'm afraid that's... (Ty stabs himself in the other hand with the fork and screams)
Ty: (to imagined onlookers) Sorry! That was me! Sorry! I did that! An accident; that's all! (leaves fork in his hand, staring at it)
Sy: Don't be so hard on yourself... you didn't do that!
Ty: This is all wrong. Sy! No one, I repeat, no one else controls what I do or what I say! It's simply not possible! Only I have the ability... (he continues speaking, but no sound comes out)
Sy: Can't hear you.
Ty: (more speaking, no sound)
Sy: Hey, don't worry; it's not your fault.
Ty: (continues his silent tirade, gesticulating his bloody forked hand wildly)
Sy: Welcome to the club.
Ty: (more silent speaking)
(lights fade)
(end)
January 3, 2007
A Play A Day #265
The Coincident
Cast:
Woman
Old Woman
Man - non-speaking
Setting: A park. A bench.
(Lights up on Woman kissing Man, kiss breaks off, Man turns and walks off stage, Woman watches after him happily, Old Woman approaches from behind, carry two large canvas bags filled with random junk. Old Woman looks horrible: dirty, bedraggled, clothes torn. She is obviously homeless and used to it.)
Old Woman: He's so handsome.
Woman: (dreamily) Yes. (surprised to be answering a random voice, turns quickly) I mean... I meant thank you. (not liking what she sees, she says a bit coldly) Hello.
OW: Do you know him?
W: Him? Uhh... yes... he's my... uhh, friend.
OW: (loud barking laugh) Wish my "friends" gave me big tasty smackers like that!
W: (moving to sit on bench, picking up her book) Well...that... he's my... boyfriend.
OW: What a coincidence!
W: (trying to hide behind the book, but curious) Hmmm?
OW: Yeah! What a crazy-amazy coincidence!
W: What? What coincidence?
OW: Your boyfriend!
W: My boyfriend?
OW: Yeah, him! He's my boyfriend too!
W: (her suspicions about the old woman confirmed, she begins reading) Oh.
OW: You don't believe me.
W: No.
OW: He is, or maybe was, my boyfriend. I don't know which to say.
W: It has to be was, if it ever was, which I doubt.
OW: I dated him for almost ten years... so much promise.
W: He's only twenty-seven.
OW: I know.
W: He could not have dated you for almost ten years; I've been dating him for two years already, and he...
OW: I was thirty-five when he finally came clean.
W: Wait... how...
OW: Three weeks before the wedding.
W: Wedding?! No.
OW: For ten years, he and I planned to marry, but he always put it off. School - med school, then the rotations, then the Boards, then residency, the Boards again, then his own practice.
W: How did you...?
OW: Then Rose! Damn her! I could never even stand the flower after it happened.
W: Rose?
OW: The first physician's assistant he hired at his practice... I don't know how long it went on, maybe he knew her from before, or maybe it was just those three months after he hired her.
W: But not...
OW: He told me one night. No wedding... no marriage... no more.
W: Yes, but... I'm sorry, but this is my...
OW: Then, no apartment... no career... I had been waiting for him. Waiting on him. His wife, his children. That's all I wanted. I worshipped that man.
W: Most med school students don't do that sort of... I'm sorry that your boyfriend was so...
OW: I tried for a while... A couple crappy jobs... but I was literally devestated, and I never recovered. My life was gone. My Clayton was gone.
W: (freezing) C... Clayton?
OW: Clayton. Clayton James Meyerson.
W: Wait! Stop! Who are you?!
OW: I never got my life back.
W: Who?! Tell me!
OW: When I found myself out in the streets one night. I stayed.
W: How did you know Clayton's name?!
OW: I told you. I dated him, I was engaged to him, I almost married him.
W: No, you didn't... he's twenty-seven!
OW: I told you. You don't want to listen.
W: So you guessed that he was a medical student... and someone told you his name... but why are you...
OW: Now, all I have left is garbage... (reaches into one of the bags, pulls out items) ... a towel... a pan, got to cook sometime... this old necklace, Clayton gave it to me in a park one day.
W: (feeeling her neck, pulling out the identical necklace) What... (pause, her breathing is shallower and rapid)
OW: (noting Woman's necklace) Well, look at that... what a coincidence. You know, if you ever find yourself alone, in dangerous circumstances, don't brag about your beautiful gold necklace to desperate companions.
W: I... I... but... you... can't be...
OW: Some people'd sooner stab you for the face value of the jewelry than listen to your sad story. Obviously, it's not the first time I trusted a man and ended up hurt. Really hurt.
W: (terrified whisper) What are you saying?
OW: I guess, when you're lying bleeding under a spruce tree in Greer Park... that's up near Lincoln and Trundell, over by the old Lancester Arms Hotel.
W: I know where it is.
OW: Yeah, well, I guess when you're dying that slowly, your life can flash before your eyes for quite a while.
W: You can't...
OW: And, you see a time, a memory, where you can stop, and maybe change your future, so you do it.
W: (stands, one last attempt to deny this odd event) But Clayton is not like that! He's kind, and... selfless, and generous, and has a wonderful sense of humor.
OW: (overlapping Woman's words exactly) Selfless, and generous, and has a wonderful sense of humor. (pause) You might believe those words. And you might end up stabbed to death, 55. Looking like 85. It's your choice. (pause) I have to go. (turns to leave)
W: Holly?
OW: (stops, but doesn't look back) Hmm... what a coincidence. (she leaves)
(Woman collapses on the bench, lights fade, she fingers her necklace, she is in shock)
(lights out)
(end)
Cast:
Woman
Old Woman
Man - non-speaking
Setting: A park. A bench.
(Lights up on Woman kissing Man, kiss breaks off, Man turns and walks off stage, Woman watches after him happily, Old Woman approaches from behind, carry two large canvas bags filled with random junk. Old Woman looks horrible: dirty, bedraggled, clothes torn. She is obviously homeless and used to it.)
Old Woman: He's so handsome.
Woman: (dreamily) Yes. (surprised to be answering a random voice, turns quickly) I mean... I meant thank you. (not liking what she sees, she says a bit coldly) Hello.
OW: Do you know him?
W: Him? Uhh... yes... he's my... uhh, friend.
OW: (loud barking laugh) Wish my "friends" gave me big tasty smackers like that!
W: (moving to sit on bench, picking up her book) Well...that... he's my... boyfriend.
OW: What a coincidence!
W: (trying to hide behind the book, but curious) Hmmm?
OW: Yeah! What a crazy-amazy coincidence!
W: What? What coincidence?
OW: Your boyfriend!
W: My boyfriend?
OW: Yeah, him! He's my boyfriend too!
W: (her suspicions about the old woman confirmed, she begins reading) Oh.
OW: You don't believe me.
W: No.
OW: He is, or maybe was, my boyfriend. I don't know which to say.
W: It has to be was, if it ever was, which I doubt.
OW: I dated him for almost ten years... so much promise.
W: He's only twenty-seven.
OW: I know.
W: He could not have dated you for almost ten years; I've been dating him for two years already, and he...
OW: I was thirty-five when he finally came clean.
W: Wait... how...
OW: Three weeks before the wedding.
W: Wedding?! No.
OW: For ten years, he and I planned to marry, but he always put it off. School - med school, then the rotations, then the Boards, then residency, the Boards again, then his own practice.
W: How did you...?
OW: Then Rose! Damn her! I could never even stand the flower after it happened.
W: Rose?
OW: The first physician's assistant he hired at his practice... I don't know how long it went on, maybe he knew her from before, or maybe it was just those three months after he hired her.
W: But not...
OW: He told me one night. No wedding... no marriage... no more.
W: Yes, but... I'm sorry, but this is my...
OW: Then, no apartment... no career... I had been waiting for him. Waiting on him. His wife, his children. That's all I wanted. I worshipped that man.
W: Most med school students don't do that sort of... I'm sorry that your boyfriend was so...
OW: I tried for a while... A couple crappy jobs... but I was literally devestated, and I never recovered. My life was gone. My Clayton was gone.
W: (freezing) C... Clayton?
OW: Clayton. Clayton James Meyerson.
W: Wait! Stop! Who are you?!
OW: I never got my life back.
W: Who?! Tell me!
OW: When I found myself out in the streets one night. I stayed.
W: How did you know Clayton's name?!
OW: I told you. I dated him, I was engaged to him, I almost married him.
W: No, you didn't... he's twenty-seven!
OW: I told you. You don't want to listen.
W: So you guessed that he was a medical student... and someone told you his name... but why are you...
OW: Now, all I have left is garbage... (reaches into one of the bags, pulls out items) ... a towel... a pan, got to cook sometime... this old necklace, Clayton gave it to me in a park one day.
W: (feeeling her neck, pulling out the identical necklace) What... (pause, her breathing is shallower and rapid)
OW: (noting Woman's necklace) Well, look at that... what a coincidence. You know, if you ever find yourself alone, in dangerous circumstances, don't brag about your beautiful gold necklace to desperate companions.
W: I... I... but... you... can't be...
OW: Some people'd sooner stab you for the face value of the jewelry than listen to your sad story. Obviously, it's not the first time I trusted a man and ended up hurt. Really hurt.
W: (terrified whisper) What are you saying?
OW: I guess, when you're lying bleeding under a spruce tree in Greer Park... that's up near Lincoln and Trundell, over by the old Lancester Arms Hotel.
W: I know where it is.
OW: Yeah, well, I guess when you're dying that slowly, your life can flash before your eyes for quite a while.
W: You can't...
OW: And, you see a time, a memory, where you can stop, and maybe change your future, so you do it.
W: (stands, one last attempt to deny this odd event) But Clayton is not like that! He's kind, and... selfless, and generous, and has a wonderful sense of humor.
OW: (overlapping Woman's words exactly) Selfless, and generous, and has a wonderful sense of humor. (pause) You might believe those words. And you might end up stabbed to death, 55. Looking like 85. It's your choice. (pause) I have to go. (turns to leave)
W: Holly?
OW: (stops, but doesn't look back) Hmm... what a coincidence. (she leaves)
(Woman collapses on the bench, lights fade, she fingers her necklace, she is in shock)
(lights out)
(end)
January 2, 2007
A Play A Day #264
Rough Night
Cast:
Doctor
Man
Woman
Assistants - two, non-speaking
Setting: Bedroom, dim lights on queen-sized bed
(Man and Woman asleep in bed, the play continues like this for about thirty seconds, Man shifting his position a couple times, Woman is still. Suddenly three things happen simultaneously: a bright red fire engine light flares and pulsates with a very loud buzzer accompanying it, sounds pulsates in and out, and a crazily-dressed man leaps from offstage and bounds recklessly onto the bed. He is screaming horribly and immediately begins taunting the Man who has, understandably, sat bolt upright, terrified. He flails in self-defense, ineffectually, as the crazy man shouts at him, getting right in his face.)
Doctor: (jumping around, angry) YOU!! What is the matter with you!? How can you do that!? You are a sick, sick man! You have no sense of decency, sir! In bed! At a time like this?! The world needs you! You are crap! That's all you are! Yet, the world needs you, crap!
Man: (he has been screaming and flailing and adlibbing fearful exhortations during the Doctor's opening tirade) Who? Help! Help! (shaking Woman) Dear! Dear! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Dear! Help!!! My God! Who... what? Stop, stop! Don't kill... don't kill me, don't kill me... don't kill me, my wallet's right there... please... I don't... help!!
Doctor: Shut up, crap! You sleep and you sleep and you sleep and you don't deserve it, because you're crap, crap! Don't you realize that you sleep, and the land is sloshed on poison... you sleep, and the oceans burn... you sleep, and children suck death! You are horrible! You ignore it all with your sleep! So easy for you, crap!
Man: (still panicking) Don't... No... No!! Please stop... I can't help you...
Doctor: My assistants (two beautiful women in lab coats with clipboards enter from each side of the stage) have been monitoring you for years... you have slept every single night during that time! YOU!! Are worthless, crap!
Man: (noticing the assistants) I've never seen these women before! I haven't! (he looks at his wife next to him) I don't... I mean... please don't hurt me! Please! (appealling to assistants who acknowledge his plea with callous nods) Don't let him hurt me!
Doctor: They won't listen to you. They work for me. I am telling you, what you have been doing for years, sleeping, is wrong! You sleep, and the world eats itself!
Man: Who ARE you?!!
Doctor: (first real pause) I am the Doctor. You are crap. Remember that! Sleep and die, crap! Sleep and die! Sleep and die!
(Doctor bounds off the bed, and twirls madly, screeching, all the way offstage. Man sits terrified, the assistants crawl onto the bed with man, running hands through his hair, rubbing his back, Man fades back into sleep. Assistants leave quickly. Lights brighten slowly in the room. Woman stirs, Man stirs, they sit up and stretch. Woman is bright, Man looks grim)
Woman: Morning, honey.
Man: Ahh... I feel like crap.
Woman: Oh! Really?
Man: I think I slept wrong.
(lights out)
(end)
Cast:
Doctor
Man
Woman
Assistants - two, non-speaking
Setting: Bedroom, dim lights on queen-sized bed
(Man and Woman asleep in bed, the play continues like this for about thirty seconds, Man shifting his position a couple times, Woman is still. Suddenly three things happen simultaneously: a bright red fire engine light flares and pulsates with a very loud buzzer accompanying it, sounds pulsates in and out, and a crazily-dressed man leaps from offstage and bounds recklessly onto the bed. He is screaming horribly and immediately begins taunting the Man who has, understandably, sat bolt upright, terrified. He flails in self-defense, ineffectually, as the crazy man shouts at him, getting right in his face.)
Doctor: (jumping around, angry) YOU!! What is the matter with you!? How can you do that!? You are a sick, sick man! You have no sense of decency, sir! In bed! At a time like this?! The world needs you! You are crap! That's all you are! Yet, the world needs you, crap!
Man: (he has been screaming and flailing and adlibbing fearful exhortations during the Doctor's opening tirade) Who? Help! Help! (shaking Woman) Dear! Dear! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Dear! Help!!! My God! Who... what? Stop, stop! Don't kill... don't kill me, don't kill me... don't kill me, my wallet's right there... please... I don't... help!!
Doctor: Shut up, crap! You sleep and you sleep and you sleep and you don't deserve it, because you're crap, crap! Don't you realize that you sleep, and the land is sloshed on poison... you sleep, and the oceans burn... you sleep, and children suck death! You are horrible! You ignore it all with your sleep! So easy for you, crap!
Man: (still panicking) Don't... No... No!! Please stop... I can't help you...
Doctor: My assistants (two beautiful women in lab coats with clipboards enter from each side of the stage) have been monitoring you for years... you have slept every single night during that time! YOU!! Are worthless, crap!
Man: (noticing the assistants) I've never seen these women before! I haven't! (he looks at his wife next to him) I don't... I mean... please don't hurt me! Please! (appealling to assistants who acknowledge his plea with callous nods) Don't let him hurt me!
Doctor: They won't listen to you. They work for me. I am telling you, what you have been doing for years, sleeping, is wrong! You sleep, and the world eats itself!
Man: Who ARE you?!!
Doctor: (first real pause) I am the Doctor. You are crap. Remember that! Sleep and die, crap! Sleep and die! Sleep and die!
(Doctor bounds off the bed, and twirls madly, screeching, all the way offstage. Man sits terrified, the assistants crawl onto the bed with man, running hands through his hair, rubbing his back, Man fades back into sleep. Assistants leave quickly. Lights brighten slowly in the room. Woman stirs, Man stirs, they sit up and stretch. Woman is bright, Man looks grim)
Woman: Morning, honey.
Man: Ahh... I feel like crap.
Woman: Oh! Really?
Man: I think I slept wrong.
(lights out)
(end)
January 1, 2007
A Play A Day #263
The Knock
Cast:
Sandy
Pin
Setting: Sandy's front entryway.
(A doorbell, lights up, Sandy comes to the door, opens it, we see a very awkward man, preferably small, geeky, timid, and very poorly dressed. He has a clipboard, papers falling every which way)
Sandy: Hello?
Pin: Hi.
S: Yes?
P: Hi. (consults clipboard) Cassandra... Mar... Mar... jee... arr?
S: It's Mar-zhair, and no one calls me Cassandra. Sandy.
P: Oh... (takes a while to fumble with papers and pen, starts marking up a sheet) I... I'm sorry... there's a lot of... uhhh... paperwork.
S: I see that... but, ummm... you maybe can tell me what you're here for?
P: (still fumbling with papers) Uhhh... yes.... uhhh... I just need to make... uhh... Sandy with an "S"?
S: Ummm... yes... what else...
P: Okay... so... ummm.... (very slowly, as he spells it out phonetically) Mar.... zhair...
S: Listen... if you're trying to sell me something...
P: No.
S: ...I have friends coming over in about thirty minutes, and I haven't even...
P: No.
S: ... I have this rather complicated souffle that I make and...
P: No.
S: ... it really needs to be watched and then I have to...
P: No.
S: ... get changed and get cash at the bank...
P: No.
S: ... so... ummm.... so you're not selling anything?
P: No.
S: And...
P: I'm not selling anything.
S: Right. So...
P: I'm sorry.
S: Hey... no, no... it's okay. I just...
P: I'm not very good at this.
S: No! Nooo! You're doing a great... hey, you know what, why don't you just, you know, tell me who you are. We'll start there.
P: Ah... yes... sorry. My name is Pin.
S: (beat) Okay. Pin?
P: Pin.
S: Okay.
P: Pin. Like safety, or nak.
S: Nak?
P: (little chuckle) Just my little joke. (chuckles again) Nak? Nak-pin? I switch the "k" and "p"...
S: Right. (forces a little laugh to comfort him) Yes! Very... clever.
P: Thanks.
S: And I'm Sandy, like I said... before.
P: Yes. (consults clipboard) Starts with "s".
S: Guilty as charged.
P: You are?
S: Just an expression.
P: Okay.
S: Pin, what brings you here? Step two in the process. You're not selling.
P: Yes. I mean no. No. I'm not selling.
S: Got it.
P: I hate this part.
S: Hmmm?
P: I have to tell you something, and you're not going to like it.
S: Oh. Really?
P: No. But I like it even less. It's a horrible thing to say, and I'm the one who has to say it.
S: Pin?
P: All the time. It hurts so much to be the one who has to do this over and over again...
S: Please.
P: I thought I'd get used to it, but it just gets more and more horrible and...
S: Pin! (he stops) Please. You'll do fine.
P: Oh... I don't know... it's not...
S: You'll be great. Let it out.
P: Okay. As of (looks at watch) seven.... no... maybe it was eight.... no... I think it might still only be seven... uhhh.... no, wait...
S: Pin.
P: ... now it's eight. (pause)
S: Pin, you can do it, okay? You can tell me.
P: Yes... as of (starts to look at watch again, she clasps her hand over it, he is startled for a little bit, she releases his wrist) ... eight minutes ago, you were dead.
S: (positive, upbeat) There, see that wasn't that difficult, and you really came through quite well, I thought.
P: Thank you. It was nice to have your help, most people just scream or something. You were so supportive.
S: Well... so, who saved me?
P: Saved?
S: Eight minutes ago?
P: Eight... (looks at watch) nine now.
S: Nine minutes ago. Who saved me?
P: What?
S: You said I was dead, right?
P: Yes.
S: So, who brought me back to life?
P: Ummm... no one.
S: Why are you coming to my door and telling me I was dead eight or nine minutes ago, and then... wait... why am I not in the hospital?
P: Uhhh...
S: This... this... wow! This is one of those near-death experiences? They're saving my life right now?
P: Sandy... uhhh...
S: What happened? It was my basement stairs, right... those things are treacherous! I keep meaning to fix them, but... I fell down, bashed my head on the concrete floor, right?
P: Yes.
S: I knew it!
P: Ummm... Sandy, I...
S: I always thought... wait a minute... how did they find me? I live alone.
P: Lived alone.
S: What? Wait. You said, I was dead.
P: Like I said, I'm not very good at this. I never know what verb tense to use when I say that sentence.
S: Verb tense?
P: I meant, as of nine... (looks at watch)... whoa... almost eleven minutes ago, you are dead.
S: What?
P: See, that doesn't sound right either... "were", "are"... I just don't know...
S: I died eleven minutes ago?
P: (checks watch yet again, indicating that it has now been exactly eleven minutes) Yep, dead on.
S: I'm dead?
P: That's it! That's how they taught us in class....
S: I'm dead?
P: Simple, declarative sentence...
S: I'm dead?
P: No confusing tenses...
S: I'm dead?
P: Just, bam, "You are dead."...
S: I'm dead?
P: Makes sense now...
S: I'm...
P: Dead. Yes.
S: Dead? No.
P: Sorry. Like I said, I really don't like this part of....
S: So, you're...
P: Pin.
S: Death.
P: Well, a trainee... (checks his shirt, digs into his pants pocket) Sorry. I forgot... (pins a large name tag on his shirt which says:)
S: (reading the button) "Thank you for your patience, it's my first century. Pin, Death-Associate-In-Training"
P: Ironic. My name's Pin, but I always forget to wear my pin.
S: Pin. This isn't right. I'm not dead. I feel fine. I was just cooking a souffle for my friends, and I was heading to the pantry to get... some... more.... Oh. No. (she turns back into the house and walks off)
P: (quietly) You can check the basement stairs now.
S: (returning, feeling her neck) I... I... didn't know it could bend that far.
P: It can't. So, that's why I'm here.
S: This is too much.
P: I know. (lifts his left hand as serenely as possible, which means it's very clumsy, but a nice attempt)
S: (looking at his cupped hand) What? Am I supposed to tip you?
P: No... uhh... okay, wait... (changes his hand position to a more beckoning, sideways position, and strains to make his face seem insistent, but gentle) There.
S: (looking at his hand again, decides to shake it, since that's what it looks like Pin wants, she tries to do so, but poorly) Sorry... I'm not left-handed.
P: Uhhh.. this isn't working... oh, I remember! (turns around, grabs a boombox from offstage, puts it down beside him and fiddles with the controls for a while, then stands up, tries the face of gentle insistences and the slanted left hand just as the boombox blasts out a heavy metal guitar riff) Crap! Wrong track. Sorry. (he returns to the boombox, fiddles with controls, then turns back) There. (poses again as angelic harps and voices crescendo from the boombox)
S: Oh. You mean?
P: (tries a God voice, it is terrible) It's time to go, Sandy.
S: No.
P: Hold on. (turns back to the boombox, plugs in a small microphone then turns around, does the pose again and starts to speak, but feedback starts at the same time, he moves the microphone further from the boombox and says, successfully this time) It's time to go, Sandy.
S: Oh. Really?
P: (with microphone) Yes! (realizes that wasn't necessary, turns off mic and boombox) I mean, yes.
S: Can I leave a note for my friends?
P: Saying what?
S: Uhh... that I'm... oh... yeah, that...
P: It doesn't work that way. I'm sorry.
S: But, I really don't want to die. I'm only twenty-six. I have a job I love. My first house. I want to be a mother some day.
P: You best child-bearing years are far behind you.
S: No, no. I have a lot of friends who had kids in their thirties, even forties, and...
P: It's me again, sorry. I meant that your best child-bearing years are far behind you.
S: Oh, just... just...
P: Just you, specifically; because... because you're dead.
S: Okay... so what next.
P: Well... you leave with me... and... (consulting his papers again) you... you... what do we do... umm... says right... here... no, right here... that I knock, you answer, I tell you you're dead... sorry about that again, by the way...
S: Fine, fine. It wasn't your fault.
P: (back to papers) And then you take my hand and we leave, we go the central processing center first... a few forms, some of them are long-ish... then I bring you the...
S: (who has been thinking for the last bit) Wait. Wait. Wait! Hold on! What did you say?
P: What part?
S: At the start! The start!
P: Uhhh... let's see... oh yeah, here... I knock, you answer, did that.
S: Ha! You didn't!
P: Hmmm?
S: It says you "knock".
P: Right, then you answer.
S: I answered, but... You! Didn't! Knock!
P: What?
S: You rang the doorbell!
P: I... I...
S: You rang the doorbell!
P: But... well... I mean, the spirit of the law is...
S: The spirit? Ha!
P: Yes... the spirit of the law is... (searching his memory, then quoting) "When death knocks, all must obey."
S: Exactly! You're not helping your case. The letter and spirit of the law is knocking... knock, knock.
P: I think it's more metaphorical.
S: (overlapping) But you rang! You didn't knock! I win! I win! I beat Death!
P: No... I... your neck... (he starts getting pulled backward offstage by unseen forces, he tries to resist, desperately grabbing the mic and shouts into it as he struggles to stay at the door) It's time to go, Sandy! It's time to go! It's time to... (he doesn't get to finish, the door slams shut by itself, silence)
S: (Beat) Ha! I won! I beat Death! I kicked Death's ass! (lots of jumping around and celebratory ad-libs and dancing, maybve even making up a funny kicking-Death's-ass song)
(There's a knock on the door)
S: (still giddy, dances to the door, checking her watch) Weird, they're usually late... wait until they hear.... (throws open door, a very large Grim Reaper stands there, full regalia with the scythe, except he has a large, brightly-colored name tag with a smiley face on it, pause)
Grim Reaper: Sandy Marjaire?
S: (she gulps, small and squeaky) Yes?
GR: You're dead.
S: But... the other guy...
GR: Yes. Pin. The old doorbell escape technicality.
S: Yeah.
GR: We've been trying to get that clause broadened for years, but...
S: I beat him. I mean... I did.
GR: Yes, well, don't get too proud about it, he's only a trainee.
S: Why am I not alive though?
GR: The basement? The stairs? The Neck? Breaky-breaky.
S: (holding up hands) Okay, okay! I got it! I got it!
GR: I'm sorry if Pin's approach failed to satisfy your death needs. You can fill out a comment card at central processing.
S: Comment card?
GR: (flatly quoting a line he's had to utter far too often) "We value your input as we strive to supply our customers with 'Service To Die For'."
S: Oh.
GR: (doing the pose and voice perfectly) It's time to go, Sandy.
(Sandy extends her hand to his, and they move silently through the doorway, the door closing behind them)
GR: (mumbling, sound of him picking up the boombox) Damnit... that twit even forgot his stereo.
(lights out)
(end)
Cast:
Sandy
Pin
Setting: Sandy's front entryway.
(A doorbell, lights up, Sandy comes to the door, opens it, we see a very awkward man, preferably small, geeky, timid, and very poorly dressed. He has a clipboard, papers falling every which way)
Sandy: Hello?
Pin: Hi.
S: Yes?
P: Hi. (consults clipboard) Cassandra... Mar... Mar... jee... arr?
S: It's Mar-zhair, and no one calls me Cassandra. Sandy.
P: Oh... (takes a while to fumble with papers and pen, starts marking up a sheet) I... I'm sorry... there's a lot of... uhhh... paperwork.
S: I see that... but, ummm... you maybe can tell me what you're here for?
P: (still fumbling with papers) Uhhh... yes.... uhhh... I just need to make... uhh... Sandy with an "S"?
S: Ummm... yes... what else...
P: Okay... so... ummm.... (very slowly, as he spells it out phonetically) Mar.... zhair...
S: Listen... if you're trying to sell me something...
P: No.
S: ...I have friends coming over in about thirty minutes, and I haven't even...
P: No.
S: ... I have this rather complicated souffle that I make and...
P: No.
S: ... it really needs to be watched and then I have to...
P: No.
S: ... get changed and get cash at the bank...
P: No.
S: ... so... ummm.... so you're not selling anything?
P: No.
S: And...
P: I'm not selling anything.
S: Right. So...
P: I'm sorry.
S: Hey... no, no... it's okay. I just...
P: I'm not very good at this.
S: No! Nooo! You're doing a great... hey, you know what, why don't you just, you know, tell me who you are. We'll start there.
P: Ah... yes... sorry. My name is Pin.
S: (beat) Okay. Pin?
P: Pin.
S: Okay.
P: Pin. Like safety, or nak.
S: Nak?
P: (little chuckle) Just my little joke. (chuckles again) Nak? Nak-pin? I switch the "k" and "p"...
S: Right. (forces a little laugh to comfort him) Yes! Very... clever.
P: Thanks.
S: And I'm Sandy, like I said... before.
P: Yes. (consults clipboard) Starts with "s".
S: Guilty as charged.
P: You are?
S: Just an expression.
P: Okay.
S: Pin, what brings you here? Step two in the process. You're not selling.
P: Yes. I mean no. No. I'm not selling.
S: Got it.
P: I hate this part.
S: Hmmm?
P: I have to tell you something, and you're not going to like it.
S: Oh. Really?
P: No. But I like it even less. It's a horrible thing to say, and I'm the one who has to say it.
S: Pin?
P: All the time. It hurts so much to be the one who has to do this over and over again...
S: Please.
P: I thought I'd get used to it, but it just gets more and more horrible and...
S: Pin! (he stops) Please. You'll do fine.
P: Oh... I don't know... it's not...
S: You'll be great. Let it out.
P: Okay. As of (looks at watch) seven.... no... maybe it was eight.... no... I think it might still only be seven... uhhh.... no, wait...
S: Pin.
P: ... now it's eight. (pause)
S: Pin, you can do it, okay? You can tell me.
P: Yes... as of (starts to look at watch again, she clasps her hand over it, he is startled for a little bit, she releases his wrist) ... eight minutes ago, you were dead.
S: (positive, upbeat) There, see that wasn't that difficult, and you really came through quite well, I thought.
P: Thank you. It was nice to have your help, most people just scream or something. You were so supportive.
S: Well... so, who saved me?
P: Saved?
S: Eight minutes ago?
P: Eight... (looks at watch) nine now.
S: Nine minutes ago. Who saved me?
P: What?
S: You said I was dead, right?
P: Yes.
S: So, who brought me back to life?
P: Ummm... no one.
S: Why are you coming to my door and telling me I was dead eight or nine minutes ago, and then... wait... why am I not in the hospital?
P: Uhhh...
S: This... this... wow! This is one of those near-death experiences? They're saving my life right now?
P: Sandy... uhhh...
S: What happened? It was my basement stairs, right... those things are treacherous! I keep meaning to fix them, but... I fell down, bashed my head on the concrete floor, right?
P: Yes.
S: I knew it!
P: Ummm... Sandy, I...
S: I always thought... wait a minute... how did they find me? I live alone.
P: Lived alone.
S: What? Wait. You said, I was dead.
P: Like I said, I'm not very good at this. I never know what verb tense to use when I say that sentence.
S: Verb tense?
P: I meant, as of nine... (looks at watch)... whoa... almost eleven minutes ago, you are dead.
S: What?
P: See, that doesn't sound right either... "were", "are"... I just don't know...
S: I died eleven minutes ago?
P: (checks watch yet again, indicating that it has now been exactly eleven minutes) Yep, dead on.
S: I'm dead?
P: That's it! That's how they taught us in class....
S: I'm dead?
P: Simple, declarative sentence...
S: I'm dead?
P: No confusing tenses...
S: I'm dead?
P: Just, bam, "You are dead."...
S: I'm dead?
P: Makes sense now...
S: I'm...
P: Dead. Yes.
S: Dead? No.
P: Sorry. Like I said, I really don't like this part of....
S: So, you're...
P: Pin.
S: Death.
P: Well, a trainee... (checks his shirt, digs into his pants pocket) Sorry. I forgot... (pins a large name tag on his shirt which says:)
S: (reading the button) "Thank you for your patience, it's my first century. Pin, Death-Associate-In-Training"
P: Ironic. My name's Pin, but I always forget to wear my pin.
S: Pin. This isn't right. I'm not dead. I feel fine. I was just cooking a souffle for my friends, and I was heading to the pantry to get... some... more.... Oh. No. (she turns back into the house and walks off)
P: (quietly) You can check the basement stairs now.
S: (returning, feeling her neck) I... I... didn't know it could bend that far.
P: It can't. So, that's why I'm here.
S: This is too much.
P: I know. (lifts his left hand as serenely as possible, which means it's very clumsy, but a nice attempt)
S: (looking at his cupped hand) What? Am I supposed to tip you?
P: No... uhh... okay, wait... (changes his hand position to a more beckoning, sideways position, and strains to make his face seem insistent, but gentle) There.
S: (looking at his hand again, decides to shake it, since that's what it looks like Pin wants, she tries to do so, but poorly) Sorry... I'm not left-handed.
P: Uhhh.. this isn't working... oh, I remember! (turns around, grabs a boombox from offstage, puts it down beside him and fiddles with the controls for a while, then stands up, tries the face of gentle insistences and the slanted left hand just as the boombox blasts out a heavy metal guitar riff) Crap! Wrong track. Sorry. (he returns to the boombox, fiddles with controls, then turns back) There. (poses again as angelic harps and voices crescendo from the boombox)
S: Oh. You mean?
P: (tries a God voice, it is terrible) It's time to go, Sandy.
S: No.
P: Hold on. (turns back to the boombox, plugs in a small microphone then turns around, does the pose again and starts to speak, but feedback starts at the same time, he moves the microphone further from the boombox and says, successfully this time) It's time to go, Sandy.
S: Oh. Really?
P: (with microphone) Yes! (realizes that wasn't necessary, turns off mic and boombox) I mean, yes.
S: Can I leave a note for my friends?
P: Saying what?
S: Uhh... that I'm... oh... yeah, that...
P: It doesn't work that way. I'm sorry.
S: But, I really don't want to die. I'm only twenty-six. I have a job I love. My first house. I want to be a mother some day.
P: You best child-bearing years are far behind you.
S: No, no. I have a lot of friends who had kids in their thirties, even forties, and...
P: It's me again, sorry. I meant that your best child-bearing years are far behind you.
S: Oh, just... just...
P: Just you, specifically; because... because you're dead.
S: Okay... so what next.
P: Well... you leave with me... and... (consulting his papers again) you... you... what do we do... umm... says right... here... no, right here... that I knock, you answer, I tell you you're dead... sorry about that again, by the way...
S: Fine, fine. It wasn't your fault.
P: (back to papers) And then you take my hand and we leave, we go the central processing center first... a few forms, some of them are long-ish... then I bring you the...
S: (who has been thinking for the last bit) Wait. Wait. Wait! Hold on! What did you say?
P: What part?
S: At the start! The start!
P: Uhhh... let's see... oh yeah, here... I knock, you answer, did that.
S: Ha! You didn't!
P: Hmmm?
S: It says you "knock".
P: Right, then you answer.
S: I answered, but... You! Didn't! Knock!
P: What?
S: You rang the doorbell!
P: I... I...
S: You rang the doorbell!
P: But... well... I mean, the spirit of the law is...
S: The spirit? Ha!
P: Yes... the spirit of the law is... (searching his memory, then quoting) "When death knocks, all must obey."
S: Exactly! You're not helping your case. The letter and spirit of the law is knocking... knock, knock.
P: I think it's more metaphorical.
S: (overlapping) But you rang! You didn't knock! I win! I win! I beat Death!
P: No... I... your neck... (he starts getting pulled backward offstage by unseen forces, he tries to resist, desperately grabbing the mic and shouts into it as he struggles to stay at the door) It's time to go, Sandy! It's time to go! It's time to... (he doesn't get to finish, the door slams shut by itself, silence)
S: (Beat) Ha! I won! I beat Death! I kicked Death's ass! (lots of jumping around and celebratory ad-libs and dancing, maybve even making up a funny kicking-Death's-ass song)
(There's a knock on the door)
S: (still giddy, dances to the door, checking her watch) Weird, they're usually late... wait until they hear.... (throws open door, a very large Grim Reaper stands there, full regalia with the scythe, except he has a large, brightly-colored name tag with a smiley face on it, pause)
Grim Reaper: Sandy Marjaire?
S: (she gulps, small and squeaky) Yes?
GR: You're dead.
S: But... the other guy...
GR: Yes. Pin. The old doorbell escape technicality.
S: Yeah.
GR: We've been trying to get that clause broadened for years, but...
S: I beat him. I mean... I did.
GR: Yes, well, don't get too proud about it, he's only a trainee.
S: Why am I not alive though?
GR: The basement? The stairs? The Neck? Breaky-breaky.
S: (holding up hands) Okay, okay! I got it! I got it!
GR: I'm sorry if Pin's approach failed to satisfy your death needs. You can fill out a comment card at central processing.
S: Comment card?
GR: (flatly quoting a line he's had to utter far too often) "We value your input as we strive to supply our customers with 'Service To Die For'."
S: Oh.
GR: (doing the pose and voice perfectly) It's time to go, Sandy.
(Sandy extends her hand to his, and they move silently through the doorway, the door closing behind them)
GR: (mumbling, sound of him picking up the boombox) Damnit... that twit even forgot his stereo.
(lights out)
(end)
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