Play 115: Did I Just Blow Your Mind?

CHARACTERS
VINCENT, 17
ANNA, 17

(Everything is dark. Spotlight on Anna entering from the side.)

ANNA
Is that you Vincent?

(Spotlight on Vincent, standing in the middle of the stage.)

VINCENT
Yeah.

ANNA
Hey.

VINCENT
Hey.

ANNA
What’s up?

VINCENT
Well, uhh…

(Lights up on entire stage. Next to Vincent, there is a man lying sprawled out in a chair. His head is covered in blood and horribly disfigured—it appears to be blown open. The body isn’t moving.)

(ANNA looks over at it.)

ANNA
(Yelling in shock.)
Holy shit!

(She jumps backwards.)

Vincent, what the fuck happened?!

VINCENT
It’s complicated…

(His voice trails off.)

ANNA
(Frightened.)
What the fuck did you do?!

VINCENT
(Desperate sounding.)
It’s not as bad as it looks, I swear!

ANNA
Then what hell happened?

VINCENT
I…

(His voice trails off.)

ANNA
You what?

VINCENT
I blew his mind.

(Pause.)

ANNA
What are you talking about?

VINCENT
I told him something interesting and (beat.) it just blew his mind.

(Beat.)

ANNA
That doesn’t make any sense.

VINCENT
What do you mean? Look at him!

(He points at the body.)

Does that not look like someone who’s had their mind blown?

ANNA
It’s a figure of speech.

VINCENT
What?

ANNA
Blowing someone’s mind.

VINCENT
I know, I know. (Beat.) But this time I literally blew his mind.

(Beat.)

ANNA
Vincent, what is that?

(She points to his hand, which he has been keeping behind his back.)

VINCENT
What?

(He moves the hand further behind his back.)

ANNA
Is that (beat.) is that a gun?

VINCENT
No.

ANNA
(Frightened.)
It is!

VINCENT
It’s not!

ANNA
Then show me your hand!

(Pause.)

(Vincent takes his arm from behind his back, there’s a gun in it.)

ANNA
Holy shit!

VINCENT
(He starts walking towards her.)
Look, calm down…

ANNA
(Screaming.)
Get away!

(Vincent pulls back.)

ANNA
You fucking shot him!

VINCENT
It isn’t what it looks like!

ANNA
Then what is it?

(Pause.)

VINCENT
Okay, so I did shoot him, but…

(Anna screams and runs offstage.)

(Vincent stands still for a second.)

VINCENT
(Muttering to himself.)
I should’ve known that wouldn’t work.

(Beat.)

Well, whatever.

(He takes out a handkerchief, wipes down the gun, and tosses it on the body.)

(He exits, softly whistling a song to himself.)

(Blackout.)