Blogger Word Verification: Medle

A stage and a podium. A number of important looking older man stand wearing black tails with white ties. An atmosphere of elegance and nobility.

HOST

Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce to recipient of the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize in Literature goes to Mark Gregory.

There is applause. MARK GREGORY comes up to the podium. He looks about 19 and shell shocked. The HOST puts a medal around his neck. MR. GREGORY addresses the audience.

MARK GREGORY

Uh, yeah...This is...a bit...unexpected, to say the least. I really don't know what to say. I guess, I would have thought someone would have said something by now or called attention to the fact that I...well...didn't actually....um...[pause] right, but no one has and so I guess that this isn't really the time or the place to say anything, what with everyone being here in...Stockholm. [pause] I mean, I was surprised when my professor of creative writing, Professor Stickler [there is applause] accepted my manuscript in the first place...given the fact that the title was...well, I thought, maybe the guy is an idiot or just isn't well-read...and then when he submitted it for that New Voices competition through Simon and Schuster, without whom this award would never have been possible [more applause], I thought, well, it's only a matter of time before I'm found out. But then, when I won and was published, and the critics not only believed I had...well...and not only that but they liked it...well, of course they liked it...and then it started making all those lists and the Pulitzer and well...[pause]...well...[pause]...and now...this. Well, I guess, I just want to say...[pause]...I just want to say...[longer pause]...thank you.

There is applause. MARK GREGORY backs away and the HOST steps back up to the podium.

HOST

Thank you, Mark Gregory, winner of the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize for Literature for his epic wartime novel, War and Peace. We of the Nobel Prize Committee laud you for your work and look forward to your upcoming novel...[looks to his notes]...Moby Dick.

MARK GREGORY looks at the audience as if to say, "Anybody? Nobody?"

Lights fade.

Blogger Word Verifcation: Unkers

A little boy is sitting on the floor of a living room. There are toys all over the floor and he is playing with a bright red truck. He is happy, concerned only with play, nothing else. The doorbell rings.

LITTLE BOY
Mommy! Der's someones at the door!

The doorbell rings again.

LITTLE BOY
Mommy!

MOMMY enters wiping off her hands on a dish rag that lies on her shoulder. MOMMY opens the door. DONALD is standing at the doorstep.

MOMMY
What the hell are you doing here?

LITTLE BOY
Who is it mommy?

MOMMY
It's nobody, Scottie. [to DONALD] What the hell are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again.

DONALD
I know what you said. I said it too.

MOMMY
So what the hell are you doing here?

DONALD
You and I are not the only ones in this relationship.

MOMMY
What do you mean?

DONALD motions towards SCOTTIE.

MOMMY
Scottie?

DONALD
We've been dating three years...

MOMMY
So what?

DONALD
Since he was two years old!

MOMMY
You slept with my best friend, you asshole.

DONALD
And you slept with mine.

MOMMY
So what?

DONALD
So we're both awful. Okay? And we don't love each other.

MOMMY
Anymore.

DONALD
Anymore. Right. And we haven't for the last year...

MOMMY
14 months.

DONALD
Fine. Right. Whatever. But he [indicating SCOTTIE] doesn't understand any of that.

MOMMY
So what? What do you want?

DONALD
I just...

Stops. Unsure.

MOMMY
[not harsh, asking]
Just...?

DONALD
I just...want to say goodbye.

There is a pause. But there is no argument. There isn't even any resistance to this. There is just acceptance. On both their parts. That this is something that is happening and something that has to be done. Both, obviously, have the LITTLE BOY's interest at heart and in the following scene, MOMMY stands in the background, a signal of understanding that this is something between the two of them, her son and the only adult male he has ever really known.

DONALD enters the living room. SCOTTIE immediately runs to him, grabbing on to him...

SCOTTIE
Unker Donnie! Unker Donnie!

DONALD lifts him up in his arms.

DONALD
Heeeyyyyyyy, sport!

SCOTTIE
[deadly serious, but in a little kid way...]
Where have you been?

DONALD
[caught off-guard]
I've.....been somewhere else.

SCOTTIE
[switching gears]
What did you bring me?

DONALD
[almost stern]
Who said I brought you anything?

SCOTTIE
Unker Donnie!

DONALD
Okay.........

From his pocket he takes out a small plastic egg.

SCOTTIE
What is it?

DONALD
It's an egg.

SCOTTIE
Duuuuuuuuuuuh! But what is it?

DONALD
It's an egg. From a plastic chicken.

SCOTTIE
Unker Donnie - you're stupid!

DONALD
I know! I know! [hands the egg to SCOTTIE] Open it.

SCOTTIE cracks open the egg, revealing an egg-shaped mound of clay-like substance. A moment.

DONALD
Well?

SCOTTIE
What is it?

DONALD
It's silly putty. Duuh!

SCOTTIE
[mimicking back at him; their favorite game]
Duhhhhhhhhhh........

DONALD
Duhhhhhhhhhh.......

BOTH OF THEM
DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......

Pause.

SCOTTIE
But what is it?

DONALD
It's silly putty.

SCOTTIE
What's silly putty?

DONALD
It's a magic substance that can be turned into anything.

SCOTTIE
Like clay.

DONALD
Like clay. Sure, like clay. But it's better than clay.

SCOTTIE
How?

DONALD
How? HOW???? Go get me the Sunday comics! [pause] NOW!!!

SCOTTIE runs off to get the comics, in a mock-serious scared sort of way (clearly Donald and Scottie have a strong and familiar relationship, reflected in their interaction...); MOMMY approaches DONALD.

MOMMY
This doesn't look like goodbye.

DONALD
Of course it is. Jesus Christ, give me a chance!

MOMMY
You're only going to make things worse by drawing it out.

DONALD
You have no heart.

MOMMY
No. I don't. Not since you ripped it out when you slept with her.

SCOTTIE returns, comics in hand, but they don't notice.

DONALD
I wouldn't have slept with her if you weren't so frigid!

MOMMY
It that what I am?

DONALD
Yes! That's what you are! Frigid! Cold!

MOMMY
Well, you sure weren't doing anything to warm me up!

DONALD
How can ANY man defrost the ice princess!?

MOMMY
How would you know about being a man?

DONALD
I know what it's like to be left out in the cold.

MOMMY
That doesn't even make sense.

DONALD
Shut up.

MOMMY
You're mixing your metaphors.

DONALD
Shut up!

MOMMY
Am I cold or is the outside cold? Huh? Which is it?

DONALD
You're a frigid bitch, that's what it is.

MOMMY
Oh yeah?

MOMMY picks up a vase with flowers off a side table; throws the water straight into DONALD's face, drenching him.

MOMMY
Who's frigid now?

SCOTTIE
Mommy! You made unkers all wet!

MOMMY
Scottie, go back in the kitchen!

DONALD
No, Scottie. Stay here. Stay here and take a good look at what your mother does to the men in her life. To the men in your life too, for that matter. Take a good god damn look, because you're going to be seeing this same thing over and over again for the next 12 years or how ever long it takes before you finally wise up and leave her too. That's right, Scottie. Take a look at yourself, standing right up here, in just a few short years, because this is what you're going to look like just before you turn around and walk out the door!

DONALD does just that. He turns around and walks to the door, throwing it open. SCOTTIE runs after him.

SCOTTIE
[grabbing on to his leg]
Unkers, no!

DONALD stops. He looks down at SCOTTIE. A pause.

DONALD
I'm sorry, Scottie.

SCOTTIE
Please don't go, Unkers. I promise. I'll be good. I won't ask to stay up late and I'll eat everything on my plate, I swear. Please, Unkers.

DONALD
I'm...sorry kid. [pause] Goodbye.

DONALD leaves. SCOTTIE sits crumpled by the door for a long time. MOMMY stands to the side, watching. Unsure of what to do.

MOMMY
[after a long moment of this]
Scottie...

SCOTTIE runs back to his drawing and starts coloring, manically.

MOMMY
Scottie. Honey. What are you feeling right now?

SCOTTIE continues to color.

MOMMY
Are you...angry at mommy?

SCOTTIE colors.

MOMMY
Are you...sad that Donald...Unkers...is gone.

SCOTTIE colors. Doesn't show any sort of response.

MOMMY
Do you...want to talk to mommy?

SCOTTIE colors.

MOMMY
I'll...I'll just let you color. Until you want to talk. Okay?

SCOTTIE colors.

MOMMY
Okay.

MOMMY leaves the room. SCOTTIE continues to color. As he does, it rips at the paper, tearing it, not too much, but noticeably. Lights down on this.

Blogger Word Verification: Mazing

Two scientists are standing at a table. One holds a small white mouse. The other holds a stop watch. The first places the mouse in the center of what appears to be a maze. The second clicks on the stopwatch. They watch the mouse run the maze (the audience sees this mainly through their expressions), and after about a minute of this, the second scientist clicks his stopwatch again and shows the first scientist the time. The first scientist jots notes on his clipboard and nods, approvingly as if the result was what was expected. The first scientist then picks up the mouse (by the tail) and picks up a small syringe filled with a bright pink (neon pink) liquid. He injects it into the mouse, still holding it by the tail. The second scientist watches. The first scientist then looks to the second, as if to say, "Ready?" The second scientist, again holding the stopwatch, nods. The first scientist places the mouse in the maze and the second clicks the stopwatch. This time, the mouse zooms through the maze, which we see reflected in the almost absurdly fast head motions of the scientists. This takes about 10 seconds at the most, and the second scientist clicks the stopwatch.

SECOND SCIENTIST

Amazing!

He shows the stopwatch to the first scientist.

FIRST SCIENTIST

Amazing!

The first scientist marks it on the clipboard. Both nod appreciatively, an excited look in their eyes.

Blackout.

Blogger Word Verification: Sions

LIGHTS UP on a large sign that says, "Sions." A man in overalls, MIKE, is climbing off a ladder. Another man, NORMAN, enters from stage left. NORMAN looks up at the sign, quizzically. MIKE waits, as if for an answer.

MIKE

Well?

NORMAN

What do you want me to say?

MIKE

Do you like it?

NORMAN

It's...wrong.

MIKE

What's wrong about it?

NORMAN

It's spelled wrong.

MIKE

How are you supposed to spell it?

NORMAN

Well, with a "g."

MIKE

...Huh?

NORMAN

Signs is spelled with a "g."

MIKE

[looks at the sign]

Huh.

NORMAN

Not a "g."

MIKE

Not a "g," huh?

NORMAN

No, not a "g."

MIKE

Huh.

NORMAN

Yeah. "Huh."

Pause.

NORMAN

So let me get this straight: You make signs.

MIKE

Yeah.

NORMAN

And you don't know how to spell signs.

MIKE

...Yup.

Pause.

NORMAN

SO...I'll let you get back to it then.

MIKE

Okay.

Pause.

MIKE climbs back up the ladder. NORMAN goes back inside. Lights down.

Blogger Word Verification: Boton

THE PROFESSOR, an old man, stands in front of a chalkboard, scratching out what appears to be a molecular diagram.

PROFESSOR

Boton: both the most dense and the largest of the elements. Discovered at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean along the earth's volcanic vents, with over one thousand electrons orbiting one single proton, a phenomenon which calls into question all previous scientific knowledge.
[turns around and faces the audience/class] But let's face it: what does it matter? I'm old, I'm falling apart, and I've never been in love. Let me give you all a little piece of advice. Forget Boton. Forget the scientific method. Forget lab coats and mathematics and chalk! [throws down the chalk] Don't waste your life on this crap! Find someone who loves you and love them back. That's what life is about! Not Boton! You can't love Boton! You can't hug Boton! You can't share intimacy with Boton! Screw Boton, and screw all of you if you can't see the truth!

Walks out of the room. Lights down.

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.