INTERLUDE: "I wish I could draw."

A young boy sits at a table, scribbling on a piece of paper. He draws aggressively, trying to get something down, pushing through the paper as he does. His mother, a young woman, enters, and watches him from behind, her hands on the back of his chair. He rips through the paper with his pencil. She puts her hands on his shoulders.

BOY

I wish I could draw.

MOTHER

You can write.

BOY

I know I can write. I wish I could draw.

MOTHER

You draw with your words.

Pause. The BOY looks at her - a hard, almost angry look.

MOTHER

What?

BOY

It's not the same thing.

MOTHER

Anyone can draw--

BOY

Anyone can write--

MOTHER

It takes talent to write.

BOY

It takes talent to draw.

MOTHER

Listen: [she kneels down in front of him] You are a beautiful, talented young man, and you can draw, if you just practice, I know you can do it.

BOY

You don't know anything.

MOTHER slaps him in the face. Pause.

MOTHER

I'm sorry.

BOY

I hate you!

BOY runs off. Stops at the door, turns back.

BOY

[choking back tears]

I wish...I wish...

MOTHER

I know, you wish you could draw.

BOY

I wish I lived with dad!!!

BOY exits; MOTHER puts her head in her hands.

MOTHER

[to herself]

Why is it every tender moment has to turn out like this?

Blackout.

risible (adj.) - eliciting laughter; ludicrous.

Lights up on a stage with a podium. A serious young man enters with a stack of note cards which he places on the podium. He clears his throat.

YOUNG MAN

[in a serious, no-nonsense tone]

Tonight I would like to talk to you about a serious subject.

Muffled laughter is heard from the audience. The Young Man looks a little surprised, flustered, but he continues.

YOUNG MAN

An issue...

A little more laughter. He tries to ignore it.

YOUNG MAN

A serious issue...

Even more laughter. Again...

YOUNG MAN

A very serious issue that threatens the lives and livelihoods of each and every one of us...

More laughter - almost screaming.

YOUNG MAN

And that of our children...

Laughter!

YOUNG MAN

[attempting to speak over it] And our children's children...

More laughter - cacophonous!

YOUNG MAN

[shouting now - over the din] And we must come together, in a bipartisan manner [the laughter is almost unbearable] if we are to save...this...great...nation!

The audience is howling, even throwing objects, hats, confetti, vegetables, flowers! The young man gathers up his note cards, and knocking over the podium (or almost) stumbles out. The laughter continues to a fevered pitch and then blacks out.

recant (v.) - to make a formal denial of (e.g., of an earlier statement)

An OLD MAN lies on his bed, surrounded by family and friends. He is peaceful, restful. Suddenly he sits up with a start.

SON

Father, what is it?

DAUGHTER

Rest, father, rest.

DOCTOR

It's okay, George [the Old Man], be still.

HIS WIFE

Be still, George.

OLD MAN

I want to say...

DAUGHTER

He wants to say something.

OLDEST FRIEND

We're all here, George. What is it?

OLD MAN

I know my time is growing short.

HIS WIFE

No, my dearest...

OLD MAN

No, no. I know. A man knows. Doesn't he, doctor?

DOCTOR

Oh, some do. Some do.

OLD MAN

And when a man's time is short, he sees it necessary to weigh what he has said over the course of a life time, and correct for any mistakes and false statements he has made...

SON

You haven't made any false statements, dad.

OLD MAN

No, no. It's important that a man be true and clear in what he says. [to his daughter] A woman too. And so, as the time draws nigh, I find it necessary...[struggling]...I find it necessary to admit to you all now...[struggling]

HIS WIFE

[noticing his struggle]

Please, George. Don't strain yourself.

OLD MAN

No...no...I must...you must know...I must tell you all...that I never...

never...

...liked...

...friends.

OLD MAN collapses under the strain of his admission and is still. A moment.

HIS WIFE

I don't understand.

OLDEST FRIEND

[hurt]

What does he mean?

SON

It doesn't make any sense.

DAUGHTER

Why would he say that?

OLDEST FRIEND

Did I do something to...offend him.

HIS WIFE

I'm sure you didn't. Doctor, what does it mean?

DOCTOR

I'm sure it was nothing. People in his condition...say things.

SON

But he sounded so positive. He made it sound so important.

OLDEST FRIEND

He never liked friends? Surely he didn't mean me.

HIS WIFE

Do you think he meant his wife? His family?

DAUGHTER

[highly distraught]

Oh daddy! He doesn't love us!

SON

[comforting her]

There there! There must be some mistake!

HIS WIFE

Look! He's coming to!

OLDEST FRIEND

[a little cold]

Oh, is he now?

SON

He is!

And so the OLD MAN opens his eyes.

DOCTOR

You gave us a bit of a scare there for a moment. We thought we'd lost you.

OLD MAN

Is it...time?

DOCTOR

Very soon, old boy. You just rest.

SON

Father?

OLD MAN

Yes, son.

SON

Just now when you said...what you said.

OLD MAN

[a little confused]

What I said...?

OLDEST FRIEND

When you said you didn't like your friends!

SON

Yes. When you said that, surely you didn't mean...all of your friends.

OLDEST FRIEND

[unable to hold back]

Surely you didn't mean me, George! We've been friend forever! Since grade school. And I've never done you any wrong!

HIS WIFE

And you surely didn't mean me, did you George? Your wife. You dearest and closest friend.

OLDEST FRIEND

Next to me, of course. I have known him since grade school.

HIS WIFE

Yes, but I'm his wife.

OLDEST FRIEND

But you're a woman.

HIS WIFE

What is that supposed to mean?

OLDEST FRIEND

I merely meant that a man's best friend is clearly another man!

HIS WIFE

A man's best friend is his closest companion.

OLDEST FRIEND

Who is clearly another man.

HIS WIFE

Well!

SON

Surely you didn't mean us, daddy. Your own flesh and blood.

DAUGHTER

Yes, daddy. Surely you didn't mean us.

HIS WIFE

Who was it who had to deal with all his habits...his odors!

OLDEST FRIEND

Are you telling me I don't know how George smelled?

DAUGHTER

Say that you love us, daddy!

SON

Yes, daddy do!

OLDEST FRIEND

Tell her I know how bad you smell George!

HIS WIFE

Tell him I'm your best friend, George!

OLDEST FRIEND

He said he didn't like his friends!

HIS WIFE

Idiot!

OLDEST FRIEND

Succubus!

HIS WIFE

Illiterate!

DOCTOR

[trying to take control]

Please! Please! [at the OLD MAN] He's trying to speak. Go ahead, George:

The OLD MAN, in fact, has raised himself up once more and is trying to say something.

OLD MAN

When I said...

HIS WIFE

Yes?

OLD MAN

That I never liked...friends...

SON & DAUGHTER

Yes??

OLD MAN

I didn't mean...my friends...

OLDEST FRIEND

Yes???

OLD MAN

I meant...friends.....

OLDEST FRIEND & WIFE

Yes??

OLD MAN

I meant..........friends....

ALL IN THE ROOM (except Doctor)

Yesssssssssssss????

OLD MAN

The TV show.

Pause.

ALL IN THE ROOM (except Doctor)

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

OLDEST FRIEND

Well, that makes a lot more sense.

HIS WIFE

I never should have doubted.

DAUGHTER

Oh, daddy!

OLDEST FRIEND

Good old, George!

SON

Wait a moment: [to his father] You mean Friends, the TV show?

OLD MAN

Yes.

SON

Joey, Rachael, Ross Friends?

OLD MAN

Yes.

SON

But that was a really funny show.

OLD MAN groans slightly.

SON

It was! They had a lot of funny lines on that show.

OLD MAN

But that's just it. It was all about the one-liners. There was no substance.

SON

Sure there was! It was about the relationships between the characters.

DAUGHTER

That's right, daddy! It was all about the relationships!

OLD MAN

But that's just it, the relationships weren't real!

DAUGHTER

Sure they are. That's what made them so good!

OLD MAN

That's what made it so stupid! Six friends, living in the same apartment...

DAUGHTER

They didn't live in the same apartment. Not for the entire series.

OLD MAN

Still! It was not a representation of real life! [to his wife] You agree with me, don't you?

HIS WIFE

Well...[pause] It was a funny show, George. [to everyone else] I always liked Phoebe.

SON

I see you more as a Monica.

HIS WIFE

Oh, certainly. But I always liked Phoebe. The smelly cat song!

DAUGHTER

[to SON]

Who do I remind you of?

SON

Rachael.

OLDEST FRIEND

Definitely Rachael.

The OLD MAN turns to his friend; devastated!

OLD MAN

[betrayed]

Et tu?

OLDEST FRIEND

I'm...I'm sorry, but I always thought it was a good show. [to all] I always thought of my self as a Ross.

EVERYONE speaks out in agreement.

OLD MAN

[interrupting]

You see! You see why I kept this from all of you, for so many years! Do you know what it is like, living in a world where you are not understood, surrounded by people who love such a stupid, inane show.

EVERYONE speaks out again in defense of themselves and the show.

HIS WIFE

Doctor, what's the matter with him? Is he delirious?

DOCTOR

Frankly there's nothing wrong with his mind or his reasoning. I always thought it was a stupid show. The fact that Ross had a monkey is absurd!

DAUGHTER

Well, what show did you like, Doctor?

DOCTOR

Frankly, I was always an X-Files fan.

THE GROUP

[ad-lib]

X-Files! Are you mad? You think Friends is absurd?? What's wrong with you???

Again, a commotion rises up from the GROUP, debating the merits of the two shows, quite ardently. Over top of the general din, the OLD MAN lifts himself up, standing above them all on the bed? He speaks:

OLD MAN

At least now I can die in peace, knowing that my true feelings have been heard, and that I dared to live above the masses, that I dared to say that the Emperor had no clothes, that I dared to admit what all others would not, that Friends, and Everyone Loves Raymond, and Fraser, and Seinfeld are all formulaic pieces of dried up excrement! That the the American sitcom...is...dead.

And with that, the OLD MAN dies. The group looks to where he lies in the bed, and then continue to argue fervently again. A few more moments of this as lights fade to black.

Dedicated to Roger Cornish who loved these kinds of scenes.

conflagration (n.) - a large destructive fire

LEWIS, a young man in an orange prison uniform sits across from DR. MURPHY, a female, court-appointed psychologist dressed professionally. A long pause, and then:

DR. MURPHY

Do you remember what happened?

LEWIS

No.

DR. MURPHY

There was a fire...

LEWIS

I don't remember.

DR. MURPHY

I only want to help you.

LEWIS

I DON'T REMEMBER! Why can't you understand that.

Pause.

DR. MURPHY

I didn't mean to upset you.

Pause.

DR. MURPHY

I only want to help you.

LEWIS

If you wanted to help me, you would leave me alone.

Pause.

DR. MURPHY

Lewis, I don't need to tell you, you are in a great deal of trouble here. [pause] The only hope you have is to as honest with me as possible. [pause] I only want to help you.

LEWIS

STOP SAYING THAT!!!

Pause.

DR. MURPHY

If you want me to leave, that's fine with me.

LEWIS

Leave.

DR. MURPHY

If it's not me you tell it will be someone else. A lawyer. A cop. Someone who could give two shits whether you end up in jail or worse yet, an electric chair.

LEWIS

You don't know what it's like to live with someone like that. Someone who hurts you.

DR. MURPHY

No. No, I don't.

Pause.

DR. MURPHY

But I want you to know that I understand what it's like to be alone. To be desperate. To be afraid.

Pause.

LEWIS

[sincerely]

Do you?

DR. MURPHY

I do. [pause] I want you to know, I'll be here for you, to listen, to your side of the story, at least. I don't know if I can do anything else for you, but at the very least, I'm here for you. If you need me.

Pause.

LEWIS

I might just take you up on that.

garish (adj.) - excessively or stridently decorated

BOB and MELINDA stand on either side of an enormous Christmas tree. It is covered with an absurd amount of ornaments, to the point where the branches of the tree can hardly be seen.

MELINDA

Well?

BOB

Well...

MELINDA

You don't think it's a bit...

BOB

[interrupting]

Overdone?

MELINDA

No.

BOB

Over-the-top?

MELINDA

No.

BOB

Garish?

MELINDA

No.

BOB

Excessively or stridently decorated?

MELINDA

No.

BOB

Crowded, cluttered, catastrophic?

MELINDA

No. No. And no.

BOB

Would you like me to stop guessing what you were going to say and let you finish your sentence?

MELINDA

Yes.

BOB

Okay. Go ahead:

MELINDA

You don't think it's a bit...bare?

Pause.

BOB

Maybe a little. Towards the top.

MELINDA

That's what I thought.

MELINDA smiles at BOB. BOB smiles back. MELINDA digs into the box of ornaments.

Blackout.

specious (adj.) - seemingly true but actually fallacious (false).

A man and a woman sit at a table in a restaurant having dinner. The man, KENNETH, is speaking in the middle of a story as the lights rise; the woman, DEBORAH, looks obviously and undeniably bored.

KENNETH

[in mid-sentence]

...and after we had gotten up in the air, about, say, 15,000 feet or so, he turned to me and said, "Are you ready for this one, buddy boy!" And I said, "Am I ever not ready!" And that was it. And then we jumped out of the plane and were out of there! And he's there, and I'm there, and we're zooming around in the air, zoooooooooooooooooooom! And then we all grab onto each other and formed this gigantic mass of people and jumpsuits, you should have seen it! IT WAS INCREDIBLE! And a world record, did I mention it was a world record! It was amazing! And I was there! I was a part of it! Have you ever skydived, [not waiting for answer], oh, you should totally do it! I do it! It's amazing! It's incredible! It's the most amazing, exciting, amazing thing you can ever do with your life! You haven't done anything with your life until you've sky-dived! I'm telling you, it's the most amazing, incredible...

DEBORAH slumps, face forward, into her food. KENNETH stops.

KENNETH

Oh my god! [shaking her] Deborah!

A loud snore emits from the pasta bowl where seconds ago DEBORAH did a nose dive. KENNETH continues to shake her.

KENNETH

Deborah! DEBORAH!

DEBORAH

[coming to]

Oh, what...what...[picking herself up and out of the pasta] Oh. Oh god. I am so sorry.

KENNETH

What happened?

DEBORAH

I...I don't know. I just...I must be...tired. Yes. Tired. I've...I've been working a lot lately. That's why I fell asleep into my pasta bowl. Not because of your story. No. Not at all.

KENNETH

[a slight pause]

I...

DEBORAH

Sick! That's it, I'm sick! Sick and tired! Mono. It must be mono. It's been going around the office lately. Ten...no, twelve people are already out with it. That's what it must be. That's definitely what it must be, not the fact that you are one of the most boring, self-centered people I have ever met in my entire life!

Pause. KENNETH says nothing.

DEBORAH

[standing up]

I...I should drive myself to a hospital. That's it. To the hospital. Before I collapse...or die...or something. [she stands up] This...this has been...great. Not horrible. Not horrendous. Not abyssmal. But great. Just...great. I'm...I'm glad we did this.

KENNETH

Me...too?

DEBORAH

You should call me again sometime.

KENNETH

I should?

DEBORAH

You should. Oh, you definitely should.

Pause. KENNETH and DEBORAH just stand there for a moment. Suddenly DEBORAH burst out laughing. KENNETH watches her for a second, bewildered, and then, infectiously, joins her. The laughing builds, obviously fueled by relief from such a tense moment.

KENNETH

[still laughing]

I'm...I'm sorry...but what are we laughing at.

DEBORAH

[ibid]

Me.

KENNETH

You?

DEBORAH

Yes.

KENNETH

Why you!

DEBORAH

I'm such a horrible liar. [pause; still laughing] This date sucked so bad. And you, and your story, your stories, sucked so bad! I don't know what my friend was thinking setting me up with you! She must either not know me at all or hate my guts!

DEBORAH keeps laughing for a few more moments; KENNETH obviously, has stopped and looks on, gravely. DEBORAH finally stops laughing, looking up at him.

DEBORAH

I'm...I'm sorry.

Pause. She bursts out laughing again. She doubles over, almost in pain. Bangs her fist on the table a couple times. KENNETH just sits down, defeated, and starts eating his meal.

Blackout.

vacillation (n.) - indecisive swinging from one course of action or opinion to another; waver.

NOTE: Lines are meant to be alternating between two characters. (...) denotes any time one character says nothing, in a sense skipping that character.

Well?

I thought about it.

And?

I didn't think...

Yes?

But then I thought about it again?

And?

And I decided it was right.

Yes??

...

...

I'm considering it.

...

I'm trying to come to a decision...

Yes?

About the proper course of action.

...

So I haven't figured anything out.

...

But I'm trying.

...

Don't judge me for not being as decisive as you are.

I'm not judging you.

...

I'm definitely judging you.

See.

But it's been three days.

Yes?

I would have thought you might have come to some sort of a decision by now.

...

Well?

...

Do you want to marry me or not?

...

Well??

I just don't do well under pressure!

...

It's a big decision.

...

...

I'm leaving.

Wait.

What?

Wait.

I'm waiting.

...

...

...

...

...

...

Give me a call when you "decide" whether or not you love me enough to spend the rest of your life with me.

...

...

...

I won't wait forever.

...

...

Goodbye.

attenuate (v.) - 1. to make or become thin or small 2. to weaken 3. to rarefy or dilute

SAMUEL

The first time she told me I was worthless, I was shocked. No one had ever said anything like that to me. I was eight years old and up until that point most everyone I had met had told me that I was special, that I could be anything when I grew up: an astronaut, an astrophysicist, an astroid even! If I had said, mommy, daddy, when I grow up, I want to be an astroid, they would have said, something like, I'm sure you will, Sammy, if you put your mind to it! All you have to do is believe.

The second time she told me I was worthless and wouldn't amount to anything, I couldn't believe it. I had never done anything wrong or bad to make this woman mad at me, to make her think I was anything but the perfect little boy everyone told me I was. I did my homework, I passed my tests, I got to school on time, I helped, I volunteered, I did everything I could to endear myself to her, but all she would do is tell me how useless I was.

The third time she told me I was worthless, that I had no business in her class and might as well go home, I realized that she had something against me, that she hated me. This wasn't just the insecure fears of a little boy; this woman hated my guts! "I hate your guts," she said one day when everyone else was working on their multiplication tables. "Do you even know what 6x6 is?" she asked me. "36." I said. She looked me, up and down. "I hate your guts," she said.

The fourth time she told me I was worthless, not in so many words, I told my parents. They said they couldn't believe a teacher would say something like that. I said I couldn't believe it either, but it was true. They called the principal. The principal said she couldn't believe it and that she would talk to the teacher right away. The teacher said it wasn't true. The principal told my parents, my parents told me, and the next day, in school, my teacher stood me up in front of the rest of the class and told them what an idiot I was and a liar and how lying idiots like myself would never amount to anything - then she made me stand in the corner where I stood, crying, for an hour, while everyone else went outside.

The fifth and last time she told me I was worthless--I started to believe her.

scurrilous (adj.) - vulgar; abusive.

An office with two separate areas divided by a door or the indication of a door in the middle of the stage. On one side is the office of MR. SCURRILOUS, a pleasant looking executive sitting at a large desk, and on the other side of the door is the waiting room, made up of the RECEPTIONIST, sitting at her smaller desk, and a few chairs; sitting in one of these chairs in a shirt and tie, carrying a resume and portfolio, is EVAN, who, from his body language, one might imply is here for the first time.

At rise, MR. SCURRILOUS presses the button on his phone/intercom.

SCURRILOUS

Send the scum-bag in.

EVANS looks up at the RECEPTIONIST, a little bit shocked.

RECEPTIONIST

[as if nothing unusual had been said]

Yes, sir. [to EVANS] Mr. Scurrilous will see you now.

EVANS

[politely; standing]

Thank you.

EVANS begins walking into SCURRILOUS' office; stops.

EVANS

I'm sorry, but...have I done something wrong?

RECEPTIONIST

No. Why do you ask?

EVANS

It's just...[unsure how to proceed]...the intercom...

RECEPTIONIST

[realizing]

Oh, that. Oh you'll get used to that. That's just how Mr. Scurrilous talks. He doesn't mean anything by it. You'll get used to it.

EVANS

Oh.

RECEPTIONIST

[cheerily; thumbs up maybe?]

Good luck!

EVANS smiles and walks into the room. SCURRILOUS stands to greet him; his manner, tone, and demeanor always polite, professional, despite --and, in fact, often in direct contrast to--his words:

SCURRILOUS

Have a seat, you awful piece of crap.

EVANS

[stops, unsure, then:]

Thank you.

SCURRILOUS motions towards the seat. EVANS sits.

SCURRILOUS

So you're here for the executive assistant's position.

EVANS

Yes, sir.

SCURRILOUS

What a horrible waste of my time.

EVANS

Excuse me?

SCURRILOUS

I assume that you have previous experience as an assistant at the executive level.

EVANS

Yes, sir.

SCURRILOUS

[all smiles]

You would, wouldn't you, you piece of human garbage.

EVANS

I'm...I'm sorry sir. Have I done something wrong?

SCURRILOUS

What do you mean?

EVANS

I...nothing, sir.

SCURRILOUS

I assume from your cheap store bought suit that you have a resume with you?

EVANS

Um...yes?

SCURRILOUS

May I?

EVANS hands the resume across the desk to SCURRILOUS who begins looking it over.

SCURRILOUS

Awful. [flips the page] Just awful. [to EVANS] It says here you worked two years for AIG.

EVANS

Yes, sir.

SCURRILOUS

Would you say you were mediocre or just god-awful at your position there?

Pause.

EVANS

[trying to recover, turn around an impossible to answer question]

I...started working there right after I finished my bachelors degree...from Rutgers.

SCURRILOUS

[nodding, as if in approval]

A loser school. Filled with loser people. I have a good friend, who's a complete loser, whose loser daughter graduated from there this fall. She's sure to turn out to be a complete waste of space, like her dad. Were you involved in any sports while you were there, which I'm sure you were completely atrocious at.

EVANS

Um...well, and I did run track my freshman year.

SCURRILOUS

[making notes on the resume]

Quitter.

EVANS

But I became involved in the student government...

SCURRILOUS

[another note]

Idiot.

EVANS

So I spent most of my time with that...and community service.

SCURRILOUS

[nodding approval]

Excellent. To pad your resume, I assume.

EVANS

No, I...like...helping people.

SCURRILOUS

Liar.

EVANS

What?

SCURRILOUS

Suck-up.

EVANS

Excuse me?

SCURRILOUS

Brown-noser, sycophant, yes-man. Well, everything seems to be in order here. [he tears the resume lengthwise in two] I'm afraid you have the job.

EVANS

I...[pause]...I what?

SCURRILOUS

You're everything I could ever want or expect in an executive assistant. You start work on Monday.

EVANS

I...[grabbing his hand and shaking it]...you won't be disappointed.

SCURRILOUS

Oh, I doubt that.

EVANS

[still taken aback, but recovering much faster now]

I...thank you, sir. Thank you.

SCURRILOUS

Don't mention it.

EVANS

Thank you, sir.

SCURRILOUS

No, seriously: don't mention it. Or I kill you.

EVANS stops dead in his tracks. SCURRILOUS doesn't even blink.

SCURRILOUS

See you on Monday. If you can find your way back to the office, you brainless simpleton.

SCURRILOUS goes back to his work. EVANS look at him, standing there for a long moment, then turns and walks out the door. The RECEPTIONIST looks up from her desk.

RECEPTIONIST

How'd it go?

EVANS

I...don't know. [pause] I got the job.

RECEPTIONIST

That's great.

EVANS

Is it?

RECEPTIONIST

Sure it is. [knowingly] Don't worry about him. You'll get used to it. He really is a nice man.
See you on Monday!

EVANS blinks a couple of times, then walks out the door. A pause. SCURRILOUS presses the button on the intercom.

SCURRILOUS

Ms. Douglas?

RECEPTIONIST

Yes, sir?

SCURRILOUS

Would you come in and take a letter--that is if you can muster the small amount of brain power it takes to pick up a pen. [this is said in the same tone as: if you're not doing anything more important.]

RECEPTIONIST

Yes, sir.

She picks up her pen and pad and walks towards his door. Blackout.

trope (n.) - a figure of speech using words in a nonliteral way.

FATHER, MOTHER, SON are all seated at the kitchen table. SON who has only half eaten his meal, gets up to throw it away.

FATHER

What are you doing?

SON

I'm done.

FATHER

Son, I've told you a million times not to waste food.

SON

No you haven't.

FATHER

What do you mean, I haven't. I told you just yesterday to finish your dinner.

SON

But you haven't told me a million times. You said you've told me a million times not to waste food. And that would be impossible.

MOTHER

Well, not impossible.

SON

That would be improbable, then.

MOTHER

Certainly improbable.

SON

[takes a calculator out of his bag]

I'm 14 years old. And for all the days you've known me, 365 days times 14 years, if you told me once a day not to waste food from the time I was born until now, you would only have told me not to waste food 5,110 times.

FATHER

I didn't mean...

MOTHER

He's right, dear. [getting out her own calculator] Even if you did tell him not to waste food three meals a day that would only be [punching in the numbers] 15,330 times.

FATHER

Yes, but...

SON

[finishing his calculations]

You would have to tell me to stop wasting my food 195.6 times a day.

MOTHER

[finishing her own computation]

Point .7. Remember to round up, dear.

SON

195.7 times a day. That's 8.1--

MOTHER

Point .2--

SON

8.2 times an hour. That's once every 7.3--[looks to his mother; his mother nods]--7.3 minutes you would have had to say to me "stop wasting your food" from the exact moment I was born--

MOTHER

Your birthday was last week, dear.

SON

That's right - so from the time I was one week old until this exact moment in time, you would have had to say to me "stop wasting your food" regardless of whether or not I was wasting food, eating food, looking at food, or even in the same room as food, and that, my dear sir, while certainly not impossible--

MOTHER

No, not impossible.

SON

Is highly improbable.

With that, the SON dumps his food in the trash can, places his plate in the sink, and exits.

Pause.

FATHER

This is why I never say anything.

MOTHER

That's not true, dear. You don't never say anything. In fact, you just said something just now.

FATHER begins banging his head on the kitchen table.

MOTHER

So you see, dear, it is quite untrue to say that you never say anything for by saying you never say anything you are, in fact, saying something. [pause; notices his banging] Dear? [he keeps banging] Dear?

Blackout.

arcane (adj.) - known to only a few; esoteric.

A man in a long trench coat stands on a darkened street. BOB, a straight-laced young man, about thirty, walks by.

TRENCH COAT

[towards Bob]

Psst.

BOB stops; looks around, unsure.

TRENCH COAT

[again]

Psst.

BOB

[looking back at the man]

I'm sorry are you "pssting" at me.

TRENCH COAT

[mysteriously]

Come 'ere.

BOB

What?

TRENCH COAT

Come over 'ere. I've got...something to show you.

BOB

[begins walking again]

No thank you.

TRENCH COAT

Psst.

BOB

What?

TRENCH COAT

Psst.

BOB

I heard you!

TRENCH COAT

Don't you wanna see what it is?

BOB

Of course I want to see what it is!

TRENCH COAT

Then come 'ere.

BOB

[hesitant]

It's just...my mother always told me not to talk to strangers. Especially those hanging around in dark alleys in long overcoats pssting at me.

TRENCH COAT

Your mother sounds like a very smart lady.

BOB

Thank you.

TRENCH COAT

But a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet, eh?

BOB

You--he--could also be a mass murderer I haven't met yet.

TRENCH COAT

You don't think I'm a mass murderer.

BOB

How do you know that?

TRENCH COAT

I noticed you haven't walked away yet. You're curious, huh? You're curious, aren't you?

BOB

Curiosity killed the cat.

TRENCH COAT

Satisfaction brought him back.

Pause.

BOB

Is that true?

TRENCH COAT

Come 'ere.

BOB

I really should be going...

TRENCH COAT

Come 'ere. I just wanna show you somethin'.

BOB

[moving closer]

Well...

TRENCH COAT

That's right.

BOB

I guess, just for a minute...

TRENCH COAT

That's right.

BOB moves right up to the man in the trench coat who stands grinning.

TRENCH COAT

That's right, that's right.

BOB

All right, what is it?

TRENCH COAT

This.

TRENCH COAT pulls out a billy-club and smacks BOB up-side the head. BOB falls to the ground, unconscious. TRENCH COAT kneels down and starts searching through BOB's pockets; pulls out BOB's wallet.

TRENCH COAT

You shoulda listened to your mutha.

Puts the wallet in his pocket and runs off. A KID'S SHOW HOST enters, maybe even a Sesame Street-style puppet?

HOST

Trench Coat Charlie is right, kids:

DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS.

Oh, and don't worry, boys and girls: Bob's okay. He's just going to wake up with a bad concussion. See you next week kids!

HOST exits, leaving BOB on the ground. Blackout.

salient (adj.) - 1. projecting or jutting beyond a line or surface 2. strikingly conspicuous

A MAN'S HEAD sticks out of the ground, his body obviously buried beneath. PEOPLE, oblivious to his existence, walk by in a steady stream, on their way to work and whatnot. The MAN'S HEAD calls up to them.

MAN'S HEAD

Hey! Hey!! Look down here damnit! Hey! I'm down here! What are you people, blind?! Hey!!! Would somebody help me?? [to someone passing by in particular] Hey! You! Would you--hey, come back here! Would you--[the person is gone]--would somebody call the police, or the fire department, or, I don't know, some construction workers or scientists or somebody--anybody! HEY! What are you people deaf?? [one of the walking people stumbles over him] HEY, WATCH IT! Watch where you're going buddy!

PERSON WHO KICKED HIM

[keeps walking]

Sorry.

MAN'S HEAD

What are you, some kind of moron!

PERSON WHO KICKED HIM

[continuing off-stage]

Bite me!

MAN'S HEAD

HEY, YOU COME BACK HERE AND TRY SAYING THAT TO ME! I'LL KICK THE CRAP OUT OF YOU!

PERSON WHO KICKED HIM

[off-stage by now; calling back]

Sure you will.

MAN'S HEAD

You just watch! [to the next person walking by] Hey! Hey you! Yeah, I'm talking to you! Get back here! What's wrong with you people, huh?! Don't you have any common decency!! Don't you have any empathy for your common man!!!

PASSERBY

[to the head]

Get a job, ya' bum!

MAN'S HEAD

Hey! Hey!! You come back here and say that to my face! [generally] All of you! You think you're all so great just because you've got hands and legs and feet and bodies and jobs and families and pets and cars and TVs and all that other stuff, but you don't! I mean, you're not! You're not great!! You're the bums!!! YOU'RE THE BUMS!

SOMEONE ELSE trips over him, almost falling.

SOMEONE ELSE

Watch it!

MAN'S HEAD

You watch it! You all watch it!

ANOTHER PERSON

Shut up!

MAN'S HEAD

No, you shut up!

YET ANOTHER PERSON

[stopping and speaking directly to the Man's Head]

You know, other people have problems too!

AND ANOTHER

[also stopping, as each person now does...]

You're not the only one!

AND ANOTHER

Just look at the economy.

AND ANOTHER

Yeah, people are losing their jobs.

AND ANOTHER

I'm not going to be able to retire.

ANOTHER

My daugher can't get a loan for college.

ANOTHER

My son is in the millitary.

ANOTHER

There's a war in Iraq.

ANOTHER

And Afghanistan.

ANOTHER

What about the people there?

ANOTHER

And in Africa?

ANOTHER

And India?

ANOTHER

And China?

ANOTHER

Yeah, China!

ANOTHER

Yeah!

ANOTHER

Yeah!

EVERYONE GATHERED AROUND

Yeah!

Pause.

MAN'S HEAD

Well, when you put it that way. I guess...You're right. I guess I don't have it that bad. Thanks.

The PEOPLE begin walking again, moving about their business. The MAN'S HEAD looks thoughtful. A WOMAN walking by, kicks him in the back of the head, accidentally.

WOMAN

[stopping; apologetic]

I'm so sorry.

MAN'S HEAD

No problem.

She smiles at him. He smiles back. Blackout.

proscribe (v.) - 1. to denounce or condemn 2. to prohibit 3. to outlaw

Lights up on a beautifully decorated hotel suite. There is a hot-tub on one side of the room. A beautiful plush bed. Lush carpeting. A gigantic television set with stereo equipment, DVD player, surround sound, the works! A sliding door leads to a balcony from which sunlight streams. In the middle of the room, prominantly featured, moreso than you would expect, is a small, black mini-fridge.

The sound of a key-card in the door. The door opens and RICHARDS, the hotel manager, smartly dressed, enters, followed by several PORTERS with luggage. His tone is always professional, always businesslike.

RICHARDS

[to someone right outside the door]

Here we are.

GEORGE, a young man, and REBECCA, a young woman, enter. RICHARDS stands nearby, surveying their reaction closely.

GEORGE

Wow!

REBECCA

[gripping George's arm at the sight of the room]

Oh my, George!

GEORGE

[taking in the room]

It's...

REBECCA

It's wonderful!

GEORGE

[awe-struck]

It's...not what it looked like in the picture.

RICHARDS

[immediately]

Is there a problem, sir?

GEORGE

No...

REBECCA

No, no! It's just it's much...much...

GEORGE

Bigger.

REBECCA

[shoving George slightly, embarressed]

Grander!

GEORGE

Bigger!

REBECCA

George!

RICHARDS

[obviously worried at his response]

Sir?

GEORGE

It's just...are you sure this is the right room?

RICHARDS

[automatically]

Of course. Room 124, sir.

GEORGE

I mean...[despite Rebecca's nonverbal protests]...in the picture...

RICHARDS

Picture, sir?

GEORGE takes out a folder brochure from his pocket; opens it and shows it to RICHARDS.

GEORGE

You see.

RICHARDS

Ah yes. I see what you mean.

GEORGE

[relieved]

You see.

RICHARDS

Yes, of course.

GEORGE

[to Rebecca]

You see. [goes to pick up his bag from where the porter has just placed it] So it's a mistake.

RICHARDS

Oh, it's no mistake, sir.

Pause.

GEORGE

But the picture...

RICHARDS

It is an old picture, sir.

GEORGE

[trying again; he's not getting through]

What I mean is...

REBECCA

[stepping in; almost simultaneous]

What my husband means is that the room we had...[unsure of the right word; finding it:]...reserved...[stopping, obviously embarressed]

RICHARDS

Ma'am?

GEORGE

[rescuing her]

What my wife means is that the room we had originally reserved, through agent...the travel agent...

Pause.

RICHARDS

Yes, sir?

GEORGE

[quietly; discretely]

Was...

REBECCA

[also quietly; discretely]

All-inclusive.

GEORGE

[immediately]

All-inclusive.

Pause.

RICHARDS

And it is all-inclusive.

GEORGE

This room?

REBECCA

[immediately]

This room?

RICHARDS

[humorlessly; still somewhat aloof]

This room.

REBECCA

[excitedly, to George]

This room!

GEORGE

Yes, but the picture...

RICHARDS

It is an old picture, sir.

GEORGE

[incredulously]

But it isn't the same room...

RICHARDS

It is the same room.

GEORGE

It is?

RICHARDS

It is.

GEORGE

[looking at the picture]

But this room is...it's...

REBECCA & GEORGE

[she - excited; he - clearly worried]

Bigger!

RICHARDS

[matter-of-fact]

Yes, sir. Yes, ma'am. Bigger. But it is still the same room...

GEORGE

So...you're saying the room has gotten...bigger?

REBECCA

[her fears assuaged]

Oh, George, what does it matter? If Mister...

RICHARDS

Richards.

REBECCA

If Richard...

RICHARDS

Richards.

REBECCA

If Richards here says this is the same room, and he's the hotel manager...

RICHARDS

Concierge.

REBECCA

Exactly! And if he says it's the same room, then he would know, right? [to Richards] Right?

RICHARDS

Correct.

REBECCA

You see?

GEORGE

But the picture...

REBECCA

[shoots him a slight look before pushing her husband gently to the side;
to Richards, confidentially]

You'll have to excuse my husband. He's, well, we're, trying to be economically minded. You understand.

RICHARDS

[he doesn't]

Ma'am?

GEORGE

[looking around the room, suspiciously; to himself]

How can a room get bigger?

REBECCA

[pulling Richard to the side]

You see, we're sort of on a budget. My husband and I. It's not that we're not doing well...we are. But what with the economy. And gas prices. Well, [almost a whisper] he's such a worrier. I try to keep a cheery attitude. It will all get better. It has to. It always does, doesn't it?

RICHARDS

[politely]

Ma'am?

GEORGE

A different room, sure. But bigger??

REBECCA

[pushing on, regardless]

My husband...he has a very stressful job...[proudly]...he's a manager himself.

GEORGE

[tuning in]

An accounts manager.

REBECCA

He manages accounts. It's a very important job.

GEORGE

It's nothing.

REBECCA

Lots of responsibility. He has a lot of people working for him.

GEORGE

Under me.

REBECCA

For him. And what with all the stress he has to deal with at work, the last thing I wanted him to have to deal with was stress on his vacation. Isn't that right, dear?

GEORGE

How can a room get bigger??

REBECCA

I suggested we take a stay-cation. You know, one of those things they've been talking about on CNN, where you stay at home and read and just putter around the house.

GEORGE

We have an apartment.

REBECCA

It's a townhouse.

GEORGE

It's an apartment.

REBECCA

A condo.

GEORGE

We rent.

Pause.

RICHARDS

[lost as to the meaning or the relevence of any of this, but, true to his profession, does not show it; politely urging her on]

Ma'am.

REBECCA

Yes, well, to make a long story short, my husband wouldn't hear of it, it being our honeymoon.
We're newlyweds.

RICHARDS

My sincerest congratulations!

REBECCA

Yes, well, I know we may look older than your average newlyweds, but we have been together for quite a while before we got married. My husband with his career, I with mine (I'm a legal secretary, at a very prestigious lawfirm in the city!) and we felt that we wanted to wait to get married until the time was right.

GEORGE

For both of us.

REBECCA

For both of us. [confidentially] Mind you, six years is a long time to be engaged but we were practically married. We've been living together for some time...three years, isn't that right, George?

GEORGE

Three years, this June.

REBECCA

It's important to live together before you marry, don't you think, Mr. Richards?

RICHARDS

Richards.

REBECCA

Just Richards? [he nods, politely] I like that. Don't you like that, George?

GEORGE

[looking around the room, very cautiously]

Mmm.

REBECCA

Richards.

Pause.

RICHARDS

[again, the infinite font of politeness, showing no impatience whatsoever]

Ma'am.

REBECCA

Well, to make a long story short, my husband decided that we were going to have an authentic honeymoon, in a luxury hotel in an exotic location, so went to our travel agent...

GEORGE

My sister.

REBECCA

[happily]

My sister-in-law. And she gave us your brochure.

GEORGE

[jumping in]

Which promised an all-inclusive package including room, meals, and amenities.

RICHARDS

And it does, sir.

GEORGE

It does.

RICHARDS

Yes, sir.

GEORGE

In this room.

RICHARDS

Yes, sir.

GEORGE

This room.

RICHARDS

Yes, sir. This room.

Pause.

GEORGE

Promise?

RICHARDS

You have my word, sir.

GEORGE

As the hotel manager?

RICHARDS & REBECCA

Concierge.

GEORGE

What's the difference?

REBECCA

The concierge is a property manager who lives on the hotel premises...

RICHARDS

Correct.

REBECCA

While the hotel manager oversees the daily operations.

RICHARDS

Also correct.

Pause.

GEORGE

Do I have your word as the concierge?

RICHARDS

No, sir.

GEORGE

No?

RICHARDS

You have my word as the owner of this hotel.

GEORGE

I thought you said you were the concierge.

RICHARDS

I am, sir.

GEORGE

But you just said...

RICHARDS

I am both the concierge and the owner.

Slight pause.

GEORGE

Can you do that?

REBECCA

He can do anything, George. He owns the place.

RICHARDS

Correct. Have no doubt, sir, as to the authenticity of my promise to you, sir, that everything at this luxury hotel is at your disposal, every meal, every amenity, every square-inch, day and night, for absolutely no additional cost to what you, sir, have already paid.

Pause.

GEORGE

[finally relaxed]

Well.

REBECCA

You see.

GEORGE

[suddenly taking in and moving about the room as if truly his]

Well, well.

REBECCA

You see, George. There's nothing to worry about.

GEORGE

[almost expanding]

Well, well, well.

RICHARDS

Would sir like me to tell him about his room?

GEORGE

[expansively]

Please.

RICHARDS

[to Rebecca]

Ma'am?

REBECCA

Thank you, Richards.

GEORGE

Richard.

RICHARDS

[ignoring the mistake]

Very well. [the following speech has all the feel of something that has been said 1,001 times, set to heart long, long ago, but still said with a certain relish and flair that comes from a combination of pride and someone who loves the subject of their speech; he moves about the room with grace and fluidity still befitting his highly professional manner] The Honeymoon Suite features exquisite decor, finished in impeccable detail with wood, bronze, and silk, complementing a king-sized bed with lush linens, limestone bath with floor heating, soaking tub, and stone-enclosed rain shower, and a large work desk with high-speed Internet. It's private balcony allows you to enjoy a panoramic view of our pristine, private beach. Our amenities include but are not limited to: 24-hour room service featuring a menu designed and executed by three of the foremost chefs in the world, featuring dishes from all seven continents, including Antarctica, cable and satelite TV channels on a 52 inch digital television, concierge service during all hours, robes, slippers, and morning paper, hair dryer, individual air conditioner control, in-room safe, mineral water, three telephones with speaker phone, voicemail, CD player, DVD player, individual heat control, full maid service twice a day, and Godiva mints on both pillows.

A long pause.

REBECCA

I think--

RICHARDS

[not quite through; slightly faster]

Guest services include but are not limited to: valet parking service, private parking and three public car parks on site, two entrances, babysitting services, limosine pick-up, flower delivery, multi-lingual staff, same-day laundry and dry-cleaning service, safety deposit boxes, translating and interpreting by arrangement, in-door heated pool, outdoor heated pool, jacuzzi, full spa, gym, sauna, and full-time masseur.

Pause.

REBECCA

I think--

RICHARDS

[rapid-fire]

All taxes, titles, fees, and gratuities included, not available in all states, void where prohibited, taxed, or restricted by law.

REBECCA

I think...[cutting herself off before Richards can; but Richards is quite obviously finished]...I think I've died and went to heaven.

RICHARDS

You have.

GEORGE

You're damn right we have! [at the room] This! [at the view] THIS! This...is the life!

REBECCA

No, George. This is Paradise.

REBECCA flops down onto the bed. GEORGE just stands in the middle of the room, surveying everything, taking in everything he sees. There is a long moment of silence.

RICHARDS

[breaking the silence; moving towards the door]

If there is anything else sir or madam need...

GEORGE

[moving towards him suddenly, digging into his pockets for money]

Wait...wait...

RICHARDS

[turning back]

Sir?

GEORGE

[fumbling]

I need to...

RICHARDS

Sir, please...

GEORGE

I should...

RICHARDS

I assure you sir, it is unnecessary.

GEORGE

I really should...

RICHARDS

All taxes, titles, fees, and gratuities are included...

GEORGE

Yes, but I would like to.

RICHARDS

I know you would, sir. But it is against the rules.

GEORGE

[stopping]

The rules.

RICHARDS

Yes, sir. The rules. I am not allowed to accept any gratuities from the guests, in any form.

GEORGE

Oh. [pause; then:] Wait a minute: aren't you the owner?

RICHARDS

And concierge, sir.

GEORGE

Then don't you make the rules?

RICHARDS

Yes, sir. If there is anything else, sir...[turns and walks swiftly towards the door, leaving George standing feebly in the middle of the room; stops at the door:]...please do not hesitate to call.

And with that, RICHARDS turns and exits, closing the door behind him in one swift movement.

Pause.

GEORGE

Jeez. What a character.

REBECCA

I think he's nice.

gabardine (n.) - a sturdy fabric of cotton, wool, or rayon twill.

A beach scene: sunny, hot, an orange glow to the scene. A GIRL in a bathing suit lies on a blanket. A GUY lying next to her in a blue, wool suit. The sound of seagulls and the waves crashing. A long moment of just this. Then:

GUY

I made a mistake.

GIRL

[without looking at him]

I'll say.

Pause. Shifting uncomfortably.

GUY

I wasn't thinking.

GIRL

I should say so.

Pause. The GUY shifts again, sweating.

GUY

I should have listened to you.

GIRL

I know.

Pause.

GUY

I should have never voted for Bush in '04.

GIRL

Duh.

Pause; he turns to her.

GUY

But he was a war time president.

GIRL

That's what he said.

GUY

It was time of war.

GIRL

Right.

GUY

You don't change a president in a time of war.

GIRL

Uh-huh.

Pause.

GUY

I made a mistake.

GIRL

You said that already.

GUY

Oh.

Pause.

GUY

I guess the gabardine suit wasn't a great idea either, huh?

Pause; the GIRL just shakes her head.

GUY

I'm an idiot.

GIRL

Yup.

Pause.

GUY

Who was I supposed to vote for? Kerry?

Pause.

GIRL

True.

GUY shifts uncomfortably in his suit. The GIRL breathes deeply. Sound of seagulls.

Blackout.