Saturday, March 04, 2006

Play 119: Caring

CHARACTERS
GUY 1
GUY 2

1
It’s overrated.

2
What?

1
Being a good person

2
I don’t think so.

1
Really?

2
Yeah.

1
How so?

2
I always appreciate it when other people are nice.

1
That’s not what I mean.

2
What do you mean?

1
I mean actually being a good person is overrated.

2
Why?

1
Because it means you care.

2
So?

1
Caring never gets you anywhere except in a bad mood I’ve found.

2
That’s not true.

1
How?

2
It just isn’t.

1
Tell me one time when caring's ever helped you at all.

(Pause.)

2
But it’s not about helping yourself.

1
Exactly.

2
What?

1
You try to help everyone else and they never reciprocate so why try?

2
Because it makes you a better person.

1
So?

2
Isn’t that enough?

1
It isn’t anything.

2
Well don’t you find any solace in knowing you’re a good person?

1
I’d like to think I do but not really.

2
Well at least it probably is nice for other people around you.

1
I don’t care.

2
Yes you do.

1
I’m tired of caring.

2
You shouldn’t be.

1
Well why the hell not?

(Pause.)

2
I don’t know.

1
I’m sick of trying to be a good person and just ending up miserable.

2
Well if you really feel that way then stop.

(Pause.)

1
If only it were that easy.

2
Yeah.

(Blackout.)

Friday, March 03, 2006

Play 118: Forms

CHARACTERS
MAN, mid 20s
CLERK, early 30s

(The clerk is sitting behind a desk in an official-looking building. There are many desks to each side of him, each with a numbered plaque on it—his is 17.)

(The man enters and walks up to the desk.)

MAN
Hi.

CLERK
Hello, how can I help you?

MAN
Well, I need to—

CLERK
(Interrupting him.)
Do you have the form?

MAN
The form?

CLERK
Yes.

MAN
Which form?

CLERK
Form 32-B-56.

MAN
32 dash what?

CLERK
B-56.

MAN
Umm, no, I don’t, but—

CLERK
Then you’ll have to go get the form before I can help you.

MAN
Why, I just need—

CLERK
I’m sorry sir, but until you have the form I’m not allowed to help you.

MAN
But why?

CLERK
That’s just how it’s done here.

MAN
Fine.

(Beat.)

So where can I get the form?

CLERK
Desk 23.

MAN
Okay, thanks.

CLERK
You’re welcome.

(The man turns to leave.)

CLERK
Oh, excuse me sir?

MAN
Yes?

CLERK
I’m assuming you have form 83-A?

MAN
Umm, no.

CLERK
Oh, then you’ll have to go to desk 87 first.

MAN
Oh.

CLERK
Assuming you have form 7-B-89-72-H.

(Pause.)

You don’t?

MAN
(Frustrated.)
No.

CLERK
Then you’ll have to go to desk 8914-A.

MAN
Okay.

(Beat.)

(Confused.)
Wait (beat.) dash A?

CLERK
Yes.

MAN
Okay, thanks.

CLERK
But first you need the pre-form.

MAN
The what?

CLERK
The pre-form.

MAN
(Coldly.)
There’s a pre-form?

CLERK
Yes sir.

(The man exhales loudly in frustration.)

MAN
And where can I get that.

CLERK
I have the form right her.

(He puts his hand on top of a thick stack of papers.

MAN
Oh, great.

(Pause.)

Umm, can I have it?

CLERK
I’m sorry sir, I already told you, before you can talk to me you need form 32-B-56.

MAN
Are you fucking serious?

CLERK
Yes. And I don’t appreciate your tone.

MAN
(Angrily.)
So your telling me I need that form before you’ll give me this one?

CLERK
Yes sir.

MAN
And get that form I need the form you have?

CLERK
No.

MAN
But you just said—

CLERK
I said you need form 83-A to get that form.

MAN
But to get that I need the form you have.

(Beat.)

CLERK
I’m not following your logic.

MAN
You’re not following my logic?

CLERK
Yes.

(The man sighs in frustration.)

MAN
(Angry.)
You know what, nevermind.

CLERK
What?

MAN
I said nevermind, fuck it.

(He starts walking off.)

CLERK
Thank you for coming sir, I’m glad to have helped you.

(The man turns back around.)

MAN
Helped me?

CLERK
What?

(Beat.)

MAN
Nevermind.

(He exits.)

(The clerk starts shuffling and re-arranging papers on his desk.)

(Lights down.)

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Play 117: Nothing Like It

CHARACTERS
MAN, late twenties

(There three men playing cards at a table, the lights are very dim and everything is visible only in silhouette.)

(The players lay down their cards one by one.)

(One of the men starts gesticulating wildly, he appears to be angry.)

(The others look to be trying to calm him down.)

(He gets to his feet quickly, shoving the chair backwards with a screech.)

(The other men get up, and appear to try to be calming him down. He gesticulates wildly again, appears to be yelling, and stomps off.)

(The remaining two men walk back over to the table, and seem to divide up the stacks of poker chips on the table. They shake hands, and one of them leaves.)

(The lights brighten, the remaining man is standing over the table, which is covered in a mess of poker chips and cards.)

(He takes out a cigarette, lights it, and sits down in one of the chairs, facing the audience.)

(He takes a long drag on it, and exhales.)

MAN
You might ask if I ever feel guilty.

(He takes a drag of his cigarette.)

But I don’t really. I mean, if they’re dumb enough to bet that much money on a card game than what do I care?

(Beat.)

But it’s not right, you say, I don’t play fair, it’s all a scam!

(Beat.)

But I mean, who expects a fair game these days? Everyone’s out to hustle you or cheat you or take your money, so how’s this any different? You’d think people wouldn’t be so trusting, I mean, they always say we live in a paranoid world, right? If they haven’t caught up to the times, how’s that my fault?

(He starts gathering the cards off the table.)

And I mean, they’re bound to lose it eventually, no matter how good you think you are at cards there’s always a high level of risk involved. And that guy wasn’t that good at cards. Just an over-confident idiot who thought he was. They’re always the best ones to pick, because they are just good enough to think they know their shit but not good enough to know when they’re getting ripped or to know when to get out.

(He’s finished gathering the cards, and starts arranging them in a stack in his hands.)

(Beat.)

I guess I feel a little bad once in a while. I can handle it when they explode like that guy did. The worst is when they just fall apart. Not crying or shit, that doesn’t happen really, but just (beat.) you can just feel it, like something in them just cracked. You’ll lay down the cards, and slide the chips closer to you, and they’ll just sit there staring in disbelief. One look into their eyes, and you can’t help but feel guilty.

(Beat.)

But, I never feel bad for that long.

(He starts shuffling the cards.)

You probably think I do it for the money. I mean, of course, the moneys nice. I mean, who else makes ten thousand in a single night?

(Beat.)

But, it’s not the money really (beat.) It’s just (beat.) it’s such a rush, you can’t begin to imagine what it feels like. Nothing comes close. People talk about sports, about betting on horses (beat.) or even normal gambling. It’s not the same though. I mean, that’s all playing a game, I’m playing fucking people! You just feel so powerful. The beginning’s always scary, you think they’ll catch on, or maybe you’ve screwed up and got a real card shark, one that can screw you over you even though the game’s rigged. But after a bit, once it’s been going for a bit, and you get that feeling and you know your home free.

(He grins.)

Nothing like it.

(He stops shuffling the cards, and puts them down on the table.)

Nope, not a thing.

(He laughs to himself.)

(He takes a long drag on his cigarette, and exhales slowly. He leans back in his chair smiling, and picks up the cards and starts shuffling them again.)

(Fade out.)

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Play 116: Frustrated

CHARACTERS
VINCENT, 17
ANDREW, 17

(Vincent is lying on a bed staring at the ceiling. Andrew is sitting on a chair a couple feet away from the bed.)

ANDREW
Are you okay?

VINCENT
I guess.

(Pause, he stares at the ceiling in silence.)

ANDREW
You don’t look it.

VINCENT
Yeah.

ANDREW
So?

(Vincent sighs.)

VINCENT
I’m just frustrated.

ANDREW
With what?

VINCENT
Everything I guess.

ANDREW
But what specifically?

VINCENT
Specifically?

ANDREW
Yeah.

VINCENT
Everything.

ANDREW
Well what’s included in that?

VINCENT
School, people, me.

(Beat.)

Everything.

ANDREW
That sucks.

VINCENT
Yeah.

(Beat.)

I’m just so tired of it.

ANDREW
Of what?

VINCENT
Of being like this.

ANDREW
Like what?

VINCENT
I don’t know (beat.) fucked up I guess.

ANDREW
You’re not that fucked up.

VINCENT
I guess.

(Beat.)

I don’t know though.

(Pause.)

I’m just so sick of it.

ANDREW
You’ll get over it.

(Vincent turns on his side to face him.)

VINCENT
But when?

ANDREW
I don’t know.

(Beat.)

Eventually.

VINCENT
Yeah, I guess.

(Beat.)

But what if I don’t?

ANDREW
You will.

(Beat.)

VINCENT
But what if I don’t.

(Pause, Andrew remains silent.)

(Vincent rolls back over on his back.)

VINCENT
That thought scares the hell out of me.

ANDREW
It will change though.

VINCENT
I know.

(Pause, he goes back to staring at the ceiling in silence.)

(Fade out.)

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

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.)

Monday, February 27, 2006

Play 114: The Return of…

CHARACTERS
RAM, male, 16
MAN, early twenties
WOMAN, early twenties

(The man and woman are walking through a park talking.)

MAN
Did you really say that?

(She laughs.)

WOMAN
Yeah.

(They laugh.)

MAN
That’s great. I mean, if anyone deserves that, it’s him.

WOMAN
Definitely.

(The super hero, clad in standard superhero gear—i.e., cape, etc—and a shirt with the letters “R” “A” and “M” on it.)

RAM
(To audience.)
This looks like a job for…Random Awkward Man!

(The man and woman look over at him, having obviously heard what he said to the audience.)

(Pause.)

(Random Awkward Man runs offstage.)

(Beat.)

MAN
That was (beat.) odd.

WOMAN
Yeah, really.

(They start walking again.)

MAN
Wait.

(They stop walking.)

MAN
What were we talking about?

WOMAN
I’m not sure.

(Suddenly RAM enters, holding something behind his back. The man and woman don’t seem to notice.)

(He sneaks up behind them quietly.)

(He suddenly whips his arm out from behind his back and hurls a dead pigeon at them. It falls on the ground in between them.)

(They look down at it with confusion.)

MAN
Is (beat.) is that a dead pigeon?

WOMAN
I think it is.

MAN
That’s kind of disturbing.

WOMAN
Yeah.

(Pause, they stare at the pigeon for a second or two, then look up at RAM. He is standing still, having remained in the position he was when he threw it—the arms that threw it still outstretched.)

(Pause.)

RAM
(Yelling surprisingly loudly.)
It looks like my job here is done!

(He bolts off stage, humming a triumphant sounding song quite loudly.)

(Pause.)

MAN
That might be the strangest thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

WOMAN
Definitely.

(Beat.)

And just so (beat.) random.

MAN
Yeah.

(Beat.)

(RAM suddenly re-enters.)

RAM
And don’t forget awkward!

(The man and woman turn to look at him, but he immediately exits.)

(Pause.)

WOMAN
Oh, I think I remember what I was talking about.

MAN
Really?

WOMAN
Yeah, so I was in the office, right?

MAN
Yeah?

(They go back to walking.)

(Lights down.)

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Play 113: Mental Energy Deficit

CHARACTERS
BEN, 17
SCENE

(Ben is lying on a couch watching TV with a blank look on his face.)

(Scene enters.)

(Ben looks up.)

BEN
(Muttering.)
Oh shit.

SCENE
Hey.

BEN
Hey.

(Beat.)

SCENE
So?

BEN
So what?

SCENE
You know.

(Beat.)

BEN
I got nothing.

SCENE
You have to have something.

BEN
Nope.

(Beat.)

I don’t have the mental energy to think of shit.

SCENE
Well I can’t just be blank.

BEN
I know.

SCENE
And you’ve done three straight cop-outs you know?

BEN
Trust me, I know.

SCENE
So?

BEN
Can’t I just rest?

SCENE
It’s getting late.

(Ben looks at his watch.)

BEN
Fuck.

SCENE
You don’t have much time.

BEN
I don’t have the energy to, I told you.

(Beat.)

SCENE
Fine, write a cop-out then, just something.

BEN
I’ll do it.

SCENE
When?

BEN
Eventually.

SCENE
You’re hopeless.

BEN
I know.

(Blackout.)