Play 35: The Briefcase (aka, Holy Shit a Screenplay!)

Int. Subway Station-Day

ANTHONY and SHAWN are sitting on a bench in a crowded subway station. ANTHONY has medium length dark brown hair and a pale complexion and is wearing an untucked blue dress shirt and dark grey slacks. He’s in his mid twenties. SHAWN is in his early thirties, has lighter brown hair gelled back and is wearing a dark maroon shirt and a black suit, and dark sunglasses even though the subway station is dimly lit. Various people walk by and sit in other benches around them. There is a fancy black briefcase resting on the bench next to them.

SHAWN
You nervous?

ANTHONY
No.

ANTHONY’s hand is tapping quickly on his leg.

SHAWN
I’d be if I were you.

ANTHONY
Guess I am a little.

SHAWN
Understandable.

More people walk by, they sit in silence for a few seconds, ANTHONY’s hand keeps up the tapping.
SHAWN
You ready?

ANTHONY
Yeah.

SHAWN
Remember the plan?

ANTHONY
Of course. We went over it all morning.

SHAWN
Just making sure.

The subway pulls into the station.

SHAWN
You gonna be alright on your own?

ANTHONY
Yeah.

SHAWN
Good luck.

ANTHONY
Thanks.


SHAWN gets up and walks up the stairs to the exit. ANTHONY remains seated for a second, runs his hands through his hair, takes a deep breath, and gets up. He picks up the briefcase and walks onto the subway car.

He remains standing, holding onto one of the poles, and puts his briefcase on the ground against one of the walls of the subway. He glances down at his watch, waits a few seconds, and then walks off the subway. He walks up the stairs quickly, going two stairs to a step.

JUMP BACK TO:

The subway car ANTHONY just left. Through the still open doors to the subway car various people are sitting and standing in the crowded space. The black briefcase is visible for a few seconds resting against the place against the wall of the subway car before the doors close shut obscuring it from view.

EXT. Subway Station Entrance-Day

ANTHONY walks out the doors of the subway station. He walks up to the curb and hails a taxi. He gets in, and the taxi pulls off out of view.

SHAWN is leaning against the wall a few feet to the side of the entrance to the subway station watching this happen. Once the taxi pulls away, he smiles to himself, gets up from the wall and casually walks off down the street.

Play 34: Writer’s Block Loses At Life

CHARACTERS
BEN, 16
WRITER’S BLOCK, male, early 30s

(Ben is sitting in front of a computer staring at a computer screen. WB enters.)

WB
Hey.

(Ben looks up over his shoulder)

BEN
Fuck.

WB
What?

BEN
You again.

WB
That’s cold.

BEN
What, like you have emotions?

WB
How do you know I don’t?

(Pause.)

BEN
Well you are a theoretical idea strangely embodied into a person.

WB
That’s a valid point I must say.

(Pause.)

WB
So having trouble writing there?

BEN
You bastard.

WB
What?

BEN
Asking when you know the answer, I mean you’re the fucking reason I can’t write.

WB
True.

(Pause.)

BEN
Come on, just let me write.

WB
Nope.

BEN
How bout just an idea. Not even a good idea, just something.

WB
No can do.

BEN
Come on.

WB
No.

BEN
Why do you always have to be like this?

WB
Can’t help you’re nature.

(Pause.)

BEN
Come on, please?

WB
No.

BEN
Damn.

(Beat.)

I have somewhere I really have to go, I gotta get this finished.

WB
Trying to reason with me isn’t going to work.

BEN
Why not?

WB
Because I’m a theoretical idea embodied in a human form as you put it.

BEN
Why is that anyways?

WB
Guess you thought it might make an interesting scene or something.

BEN
Oh.

(Pause.)

Does it?

WB
Not even close.

BEN
Damn.

WB
Well anyways, I got places I gotta be too. See you tomorrow night.

BEN
When?

WB
Same time same place.

BEN
You really are a bastard, you know that right?

WB
But of course.

BEN
Just making sure.

WB
See ya.

(he starts to leave.)

BEN
Wait, hey! I’m done with my scene and now you finally leave? Fuck, it’s too late to write a new one now.

(He looks at the computer screen.)

Goddamn it.

(Blackout.)

Play 33: Tom Waits Is The Man (aka, What If You Could Only Talk In Tom Waits Lyrics?)

CHARACTERS
TOM, 16
SCOTT, 16

(Scott is sitting at a table reading a book. Tom enters, and Scott looks up and sees him.)

SCOTT
Hey, how’s it going man?

TOM
She took all my money.

SCOTT
Who?

TOM
And my best friend.

SCOTT
Fuck.

(Beat.)

Wait, who are you talking about?

TOM
You know the story.

SCOTT
Umm, no, I don’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.

(Pause.)

Who is she?

TOM
She's my Black Market Baby.

SCOTT
What?

TOM
And I hang in the curtain, and I sleep in your hat.

SCOTT
What the hell are you talking about?

TOM
He’s got the fire and the fury at his command.

(Pause.)

SCOTT
You’re seriously kinda freaking me out man.

TOM
You gotta help me.

SCOTT
Help you what?

TOM
Keep the devil way down in the hole.

SCOTT
Hey, that’s from that song.

TOM
Inside a promise. I can’t escape.

SCOTT
Hey, what the fuck, that is too.

TOM
I paint the sheets across my bed
The birds will all fly from my head

SCOTT
Okay, now you’re just kinda scaring me.

TOM
(yells)
Make it rain!

(Scott jerks back in shock due to the volume of the yell.)

SCOTT
If you don’t stop right now, I’m leaving.

TOM
And I’ve seen it all—

SCOTT
Please just stop.

TOM
--I’ve seen it all
Through the yellow windows of the evening train.

SCOTT
Bye.

(He picks up his book from the table and starts walking offstage.)

TOM
(Yelling after him as he leaves.)
In the morning I’ll be gone!

(Scott exits.)

(Pause.)

(Tom turns towards the audience.)

TOM
I love doing that.

(He laughs.)

TOM
(Singing as he walks offstage.)
Don't pay heed to temptation
For his hands are so cold

(he exits, the sound of him singing is still audible, getting softer and softer.)

TOM
(From offstage.)
You gotta help me keep the devil
Way down in the hole

(Fade out as he repeats the last two lines over and over, getting softer each time.)

Play 32: Nights Like These

CHARACTERS
MAN, late 20s

(In the background there is a bed, a desk, and various objects strewn about the ground. The stage is lit by the light of a bright lamp by the bed. He is lying on the bed reading a book.)

(He looks up from the book.)

MAN
Nights like these I always start thinking.

(He lays the book down on the bed and stands up and walks to the front and middle of the stage.)

I miss you.

(Pause.)

Sometimes I think of how it used to be, and, I just can’t stop thinking. I remember conversations we had, sometime we’d talk about the big stuff, I’d complain about girls, you’d complain about boys, we’d talk about our parents, families. But most the time it was the little things. Something we saw on TV the night before, some line we read in a book, a joke we heard. That’s the stuff I remember now. Funny, I remember those little conversations more than I do some of the events that seemed so important back then.

(Pause.)

What happened? I remember when you left, we promised we’d stay close. You’d call at least once a week, we’d talk about how things were going, you’d tell me about you’re new job and how your boss treated you like shit and I’d say I was sorry. I’d tell you about my latest breakup and you’d tell me not to worry and that I was too good for her anyways.

(Beat.)

And then it was once a month. Instead of talking about what happened it became “Oh, the same as always.” And then that phrase lost it’s meaning, because I didn’t know what “the same” meant anymore and you didn’t know what “the usual” meant for me but we still couldn’t help talking like that as if pretending nothing had ever happened. As if by saying “oh, you know” we could delude ourselves into thinking we really did. But we knew we were just kidding ourselves.

(Beat.)

I remember the last time we talked. The conversation couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes, I had to work on that class I was teaching the next day so I had to get off the phone quick. I remember right before you said “okay, well I’ll talk to you soon okay?” you paused for a second. I’ve never been able to forget that. What were you going to say? Were you just gonna say something else to the same effect, or maybe it was something different. Maybe you were gonna bring up how we’d been drifting apart, maybe we would’ve talked about it and maybe we’d still talk now on the phone like we used to.

(Beat.)

No, who am I kidding, you were just gonna say “goodnight” or “see you later” or something.

(Beat.)

Then, long after the phone calls stopped, you started to fade from my mind. I’d start to think about you, and a friend would call me, or I’d remember something I had to do and I’d let the thought slip to the back of my mind, assuring myself I’d think about you later when I finished that one thing. And then after a while I’d forget about the thought and it would just rest there in the back of my head and I’d forget it was there but I could feel something back there and couldn’t put my finger on it.

(Beat.)

Sometimes when I’m up late I remember though. I’ll be reading and suddenly I’ll think of you. I’ll realize I’ve flipped the page and not read a single word I’m thinking so much, so I just lie there awake.

(Beat.)

Maybe I’ll call you! Yeah, I’ll call you and we’ll start talking again! Why didn’t I think of it sooner!

(He rushes over to a corner of the room where there is a phone on his nightstand.)

(He picks it up and starts dialing the numbers.)

(He pauses in the middle.)

MAN
Who am I kidding?

(He hangs up the phone.)

It’ll just be awkward and we’ll both feel so guilty for not having called earlier that we’ll never actually talk about anything.

(He hesitates, and looks back to the phone.)

MAN
But I want to know how you’re doing. How are you? How’s your job going? Are you still working for that same shitty boss? Are you still seeing, Greg, or whatever his name was? Maybe you’re married. Maybe you have kids and a whole family. I mean, i don't even know that!

(Beat.)

I wish you’d call. I’ve tried to call you a few times but I can never go through with it, I don’t know why.

(Pause.)

Look, I don’t know what I’m trying to say with all of this. I know I’ll probably wake up tomorrow morning and forget all about this. I’ll go back to my life and I’ll forget about you until another night like this. But, I just want you to know—

(Pause.)

I miss you.

(He walks back to his bed and turns of the lamp.)

(Blackout.)

Play 31: Trust Me, I Know (aka, This Actually Is Fictitious)

CHARACTERS
PAUL, 17
MARK, 17

(They are sitting on a couch in the middle of the stage.)

PAUL
What the fuck am I gonna do?

(Beat.)

MARK
What do you mean?

PAUL
I said what am I—

MARK
(Interrupting him.)
No, I heard what you said. I mean what the hell are you talking about.

PAUL
What do you mean?

(Beat.)

MARK
She told me she likes you.

PAUL
Exactly! What the hell am I gonna do?

MARK
No no, you’re not getting this. She fucking told me she likes you.

PAUL
Yeah. (Beat.) What’s you’re point?

MARK
(Exasperated.)
What is wrong with you? (Beat.) You’ve been in love with her for like two fucking years!

(Beat.)

PAUL
I guess.

MARK
What do you mean “I guess”?! You’re constantly talking about how pretty and cool she is and how you’d give anything for her to like you. Are you listening to me, she told me she likes you!

(Pause.)

PAUL
I heard.

MARK
Then what the hell is wrong with you?!

PAUL
I dunno.

(Pause.)

What am I gonna do?

MARK
What do you mean?! You ask her out, you’ve been dreaming about this forever!

PAUL
Yeah, I should. Maybe I will.

MARK
Maybe?!

PAUL
Yeah.

MARK
Do you have any idea how frustrating you are?

PAUL
(Pause.)
Yeah.

(Pause.)

MARK
I just don’t fucking get it man.

PAUL
Me either.

MARK
What?

PAUL
Trust me, I’m more frustrated with myself then you could ever be.

MARK
Yeah?

PAUL
Yeah.

(he sighs.)

(Beat.)

MARK
But seriously man, you do have to ask her out.

PAUL
I know.

(Beat.)

I mean I know I should.

(Pause.)

MARK
So are you going to?

(Pause.)

PAUL
Maybe.

(Mark sighs in frustration.)

MARK
I swear to god man. (Beat) Do you mean that maybe as an actual maybe or as an “I mean no but am not actually going to say it?

(Pause, no response.)

So the latter?

PAUL
Probably.

(Mark sighs.)

MARK
You’re hopeless man.

PAUL
Yup.

MARK
You really have no idea how frustrating you are.

PAUL
Trust me, I know.

MARK
You no longer have any right to complain ever again. You know that, right?

PAUL
Yeah. I probably still will though.

(Pause.)

MARK
Fuck man, you have no idea how much I’d give to be you right now.

PAUL
Trust me, you don’t want to be.

(Pause.)

MARK
Yeah, I guess you’re right.

PAUL
Yeah.

MARK
But she man, she fucking likes you, that’s awesome!

PAUL
I know.

(Pause.)

MARK
And you’re not going to do anything about ti?

PAUL
Probably not.

MARK
So no?

PAUL
Yeah.

(Pause.)

MARK
You’re fucked up man.

(Beat.)

Let’s guess, “trust me, I know.”

(Pause)

PAUL
Yeah.

(Blackout.)

Play 30: Ain’t It a Bitch

CHARACTERS
VINCENT, 18
JAMES, 18

(They sit on a couch facing a television set. The closing music to Homicide is playing on the tv.)

(The sit for a few seconds looking at the screen in silence.)

VINCENT
Fuck that line was good.

JAMES
What line?

VINCENT
That one Gee said. Man, I always feel so, I dunno, stereotypical when I find like every line from a show I watch seems to fit my life exactly.

JAMES
Whatever, it’s cool. Happens to me a lot too.

(Beat.)

So which thing Gee said?

VINCENT
“I’m folding in” or whatever it was, something like that.

(Beat.)

JAMES
Yeah, that is good.

VINCENT
Yeah. It just sums that feeling up perfectly.

JAMES
Yeah.

VINCENT
Like how his character feels. How I feel too really.

JAMES
Yeah, it’s a good line.

VINCENT
It’s amazing. It just sums so much up in just three words. It can mean folding in like being introverted and folding up away from everything and everyone. It can mean folding like collapsing, like buckling.

JAMES
Yeah. Or like folding in until there’s nothing left.

VINCENT
Exactly!

(Pause.)

JAMES
Shit, that is good.

VINCENT
I know. It’s so good cause it’s so simple. Just three words, and thousands of meanings. And they’re all so close and related and all say the same thing and just perfectly represent that feeling.

JAMES
Definetely.

(Pause.)

So you feel like you’re folding in?

VINCENT
Yeah. Sometimes. (Beat.) A lot of the time I guess.

JAMES
That sucks.

VINCENT
Yeah.

(Pause.)

JAMES
Any idea why? I mean for Gee it’s not having anything outside of the job. What about you?

VINCENT
I dunno, nothing really.

JAMES
Well, his wife died, anyone close to you died?

(They laugh.)

VINCENT
No one died. Just (beat.) just life I guess.

JAMES
Yeah. Ain’t it a bitch.

VINCENT
Yeah.

(Pause.)

Why does everything in my life remind me of an episode of homicide?

JAMES
T’sall in the game yo.

VINCENT
Oh, you had to bring The Wire into this.

JAMES
Couldn’t resist.

VINCENT
Goddamn it, now you’ve reminded me of another line from The Wire that sums up my life too perfectly.

JAMES
What?

VINCENT
“A life, Jimmy, you know what that is? It’s the shit that happens while you’re waiting for moments that never come.”

(Pause.)

JAMES
Fuck. That’s good.

VINCENT
Yeah.

(Pause.)

JAMES
Fuck.

(Blackout.)

Play 29: At Least I’m Not A…

CHARACTERS
BEN, 16
CRITIC, 16

(Ben is sitting in front of a computer staring at the screen, Critic is standing over his shoulder.)

CRITIC
Empty page. Nice.

BEN
Shut up.

CRITIC
Oh, “shut up,” how original.

BEN
I’m just telling you to shut up. How original does it have to be?

CRITIC
True.

(Pause.)

So, I see those ideas are just rushing out.

BEN
Thanks for the input.

CRITIC
There’s just a torrent of them.

BEN
Why are you even here? I’m just trying to write a goddamn scene and you keep bugging me and not letting me fucking think.

CRITIC
Wo, chill man.

BEN
Why don’t you just leave.

CRITIC
I will once you write something.

(Pause.)

(Ben starts typing.)

CRITIC
Let’s see what we got here. Characters: Ben, 16, o wow, so original, using yourself as a character again.

BEN
I’m not asking you for approval, I’m just trying to write.

(He continues typing.)

CRITIC
And then we have, Critic, o wow, the originality is just stunning. The inner critic, my god, no one’s thought about it before, quick go get a patent before someone steals it!

BEN
Fuck you.

CRITIC
Wo, no need to get hostile. I’m just trying to give me you some helpful feedback and you bite my head off.

BEN
Helpful feedback? Funny, I could’ve sworn it was criticism.

CRITIC
Well maybe that’s cause you’re oversensitive.

BEN
Come on, you’re my fucking critic, what the hell else is it besides criticism.

CRITIC
Like I said, oversensitive.

BEN
So what. At least I’m not an overcritical psychotic asshole like some people in this room.

CRITIC
Good point. Or it would be if you weren’t one.

BEN
I’m not.

CRITIC
Says you.

BEN
Just leave me the hell alone, I just need to get this scene done.

(He goes back to typing.)

CRITIC
Let’s see what we got here…

(Looks at screen.)

Quick, call the press! This one’ll get you a Pulitzer for sure!

BEN
It’s not supposed to be a masterpiece.

CRITIC
True. But being at all decent would be nice.

BEN
It is decent.

CRITIC
It’s an inner-critic scene. Enough said.

BEN
So what if it sucks, I’m writing three hundred sixty five fucking scenes, some of them are bound to suck.

CRITIC
Some?


BEN
Fine, a lot even.

CRITIC
A lot?

BEN
Not all of them suck.

CRITIC
Ah, delusion, my old friend.

BEN
At least I have friends.

CRITIC
Oh my god, of course, how stupid of me to forget.

BEN
I have friends.

CRITIC
Sure you do. And I’m sure they’re always there for you and love you and really show they care about you and all that great friend stuff.

BEN
Who’s the hostile one now.

CRITIC
At least I’m not a delusional overcritical oversensitive psychotic bastard who can’t even write one good scene.

BEN
At least I fucking exist.

CRITIC
Oh, and how well that’s been working out for you.

(Ben slams his finger one of the keys on the keyboard of the computer.)

BEN
There, done.

CRITIC
Oh, bravo, bravo.

BEN
Shut up.

CRITIC
Oh, back to that again are we?

BEN
You said you’d get the fuck out of here once I finished writing the scene.

CRITIC
Oh did I? Oops, I guess I lied.

BEN
Fuck you.

CRITIC
Boo hoo, that just makes me so sad.

BEN
Shut up.

CRITIC
YOU shut up.

BEN
You’re an asshole you know.

CRITIC
At least I’m not a—

BEN
(Yelling.)
Shut up shut up shut up shut up!

(He storms offstage.)

CRITIC
Hey, wait up!

(He runs offstage in pursuit.)

(Blackout.)