My Work

Angel of Mercy

Just as the last light disappears into the horizon, and the rest of the city of Seattle is preparing to make dinner, I am waking up. I work at a hospital. I am a nurse. I chose this shift because my urges at this time of day are absolutely calm and in a normal state

I leave my apartment in enough time to make up for the detours. I drive ten miles out of my way to avoid the Loving Hands Child Care Center on Abbott and the drive four miles south so I don’t catch a glimpse of the Bright Horizons Children’s Day Centers sign on West Hyde and Third. Then I drive five miles in the wrong direction to put me out of sight of the Sugar n’ Spice Childcare center on Spruce and First. Finally, and this is the hardest: I drive south on Yesler Avenue, sitting in traffic, risking being late to work to avoid the Childtime Nursery on North Abbot and Fort Sheldon Boulevard.

Preemies are my weakness.

BOLIVARS

When Dr. Aurelio-Garcia-Fusco received word from his Auntie in Cuba that his mother had died, he called the director at the Mission Barrio Adento clinic to say he would not be in for work that day, “Who told you?” the suddenly alert director demanded. The panic in the director’s voice was all that the young doctor needed to know that the information about his mother should have gone through the director first and not his Auntie. Someone had screwed up. There it was; just one month of working in Venezuela under Cuba’s Doctors for Oil program and the doctor was handed, not that he….

The Hopefuls

The hopefuls are desperate to be seen. They wear identical black leotards that cling tightly to their prepubescent bodies. Their right hand rests lightly on the barre as they lift their legs above their heads and hold them there for a count of four. They stand in perfect uniformity, fully assimilated along the perimeters of a white room streaked with mirrors. A corpulent woman with apricot hair, thick stockings and wearing black orthopedic shoes that can’t manage her bunions, taps her stick on the Marley floor. In a thick Russian accent shouts Pointe. Point. Pointe.

Lo’s Views of Her Mother Weeping

A hoity-toity man with a small dog in his lap was driving a red Cadillac with thick white - walls and a gash of silver chrome on the hood. He ran over my mother.

I let my lace curtains fall in front of my bedroom window. I took a bite of my apple, readjusted my glasses and flipped through the pages of my Movies! Movies! Movies! Magazine. I looked in the mirror and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I went to my dresser and took out my training bra, a pair of red shorts and a white tank top with clusters of yellow flowers embroidered on the neckline. I laid them on my bed. I lifted my pink nightie up over my head but stopped mid-way. I stood still facing my bedroom window. I was trying to think of why, for what reason and how had my mother died. Oh yes!

I Like the Way You Lie

How can you eat animals? It’s disgusting,” Kim said then sunk back in her chair crossing her arms across her chest. Toner, our cat raced under the couch.
We looked at Kim as if she were a stranger. I noticed fine creases on her forehead and between her brows, a new, slight droop in her bird-like shoulders, crow’s feet extending out from her lively large brown eyes. All that must have happened in the past year while living in California finishing up yet another Masters Degree. Funny thing was that Uri; Kim’s husband hadn’t changed at all; still round and robust. Maybe all the sun aged Kim’s once delicate and tight skin. Maybe it was the anxiety that comes with trying to get people to justify why they ate meat.

Despite Herself

Even though he is across the room and reading I know he is watching me. My boyfriend likes to keep tabs on where I am so he can determine where we are. My boyfriend seems to think he has a sixth sense with me and annoyingly, I agree. But then again, that extra bit of wisdom comes from the thirty years he lived before I was born. I love that life advantage he has over me. I hate that life advantage he has over me. I rest my head back on my chair. I’m not in the mood tonight but usually I like to test his sixth sense abilities. I’ll play The Ministry of Misinformation game.

ICE-LAND

I work in a crowded upscale catering kitchen and my main project this Christmas season is to bake and assemble Gingerbread Houses for our clients. I am also taking four college courses, with only a year and a half left before I graduate. The balance of work and school is really nice – I wouldn’t like to be a full-time anything, because I like to mix my days up with activities so I have a sense that I am moving forward.

PRANKS

About the play: Twin teenage brothers fight to hold onto each other as ghosts from their past, dead bodies in their present, and panic about their futures collide in one manic competition. How close is too close? And who will survive the final prank when love is too much to bear?

DASCHLE: “Animals just walk out into the woods and lie down. The earth eats them up. A part of the heap. Unseen.”

GABE: “With leaves covering them from their enemies.”

DASCHLE: “Just pray they don’t bury us next to Dad.”

Detention is Detention is Detention

A hilarious comedy involving a boy, a girl, and a nun with an agenda. When Robert punches Shelby, Ms. Z, a grade school teacher and nun, decides it is time to teach boys how to treat girls. She passionately instructs Shelby that in order to gain respect from men she must employ manipulation and flattery. During detention, Ms. Z gives Shelby the opportunity to practice the very techniques on Robert.

FREE WORLD

CHARACTERS
ZOEY – 20 – Lively, adorable, vulnerable and easily won over.
ZACHARY - 25 – Zoey's brother. His loving and caring veneer covers a deep need to control.
TIME
The Present.
PLACE
A tree house in the backyard of the house where Zoey and Zachary grew up.

Obstacles

Having lost his job as a kids’ party magician due to the pandemic, Tomasz Aleksander Biedrzycki decided to write a biography about his mother, but it was turning out to be a much more difficult endeavor than he had imagined; no sooner had his fingers touched his keyboard when an overwhelming feeling of guilt overtook him. Who would want to read a book about a thief, a prostitute, and a murderess? The critics would judge her harshly and then turn their scorching gaze on him. Cut from the same cloth; they’d think him capable of equal if not worse. He quickly closed his computer, retreated to his kitchen where over a plate of slippery pierogis he decided to scrap the biography.

Too much trouble, he thought.

Unemployment was consuming enough.

Morgan Entrekin on Publishing, Partying and Promoting

It was the hottest day in New York in over fifty years and the legendary Morgan Entrekin, president and publisher of Grove/Atlantic, seemed right at home in the heat. His slight accent, ease and civility felt not just the byproduct of his fine upbringing, but characteristically Southern; his directness, quickness of speech and love of diversity, on every level, betrayed his Nashville roots and underscored his inner New Yorker.

I was eager to speak with the man who published, promoted and partied with some of the greatest authors of our time…..

Contents

An Absolutely Perfect Life

Detention is Detention is Detention

A Firing

Creeping Hard

Act Normal

An Absolutely Perfect Life

Cast of Characters

WIFE: late 20s. Energetic, theatrical, witty, and wildly protective of her intellect.

HUSBAND: 30s. Charming, misguided. Loves his wife deeply. Tries desperately to be the man his father couldn’t let him be.

FABIOLA: 30’s. Any nationality. Feisty. Loves to gossip.

GUSTAVO: 30’s. Proper. Fussy. Dramatic.

Time

The Present

Place

A picture-perfect, ultra-chic Fifth Avenue apartment

GUSTAVO and FABIOLA, wearing quintessential butler and maid uniforms, stand at attention. They speak to the audience as if they are letting us in on a secret. In a formal style, they set the scene by describing what is happening as it is happening. They introduce us to who is entering as they are entering, etc.

GUSTAVO

(Speaks to the audience)

A picture-perfect ultra-chic Fifth Avenue Duplex apartment overlooking Manhattan.

(He points to Fabiola)

GUSTAVO

FABIOLA, a maid carrying a stack of linens, scurries down the staircase.

FABIOLA

(Points to Gustavo)

Gustavo, a butler polishes the silver and tends to the numerous floral arrangements.

GUSTAVO

(Points stage left)

And here: The HUSBAND

(On cue, the HUSBAND, 30’s, walks jauntily in)

GUSTAVO (Cont’d)

Handsome, wearing an Armani suit and loosened tie is changing the hands of the clock on the fireplace mantle from 6:15 to 7:01 PM.

(Fabiola points to the door)

FABIOLA

The WIFE.

(On cue, the WIFE enters holding Givenchy, Valentino, and Hermes shopping bags)

FABIOLA (Cont’d)

30’s well-coiffed, with a slight mid-western accent, in a pale-yellow Chanel suit, matching bag and shoes. She stands frozen but expectantly by the door.

FABIOLA/GUSTAVO

Tense pause.

HUSBAND

Are you lost? You’re standing there like you’re lost.

WIFE

I was waiting for your cue.

(Husband waves the doorman away)

HUSBAND

Oh, right. It is that time isn’t it – you step in, I’m to go on loudly about my day: Tell you about lunch with Fudderman…

WIFE(Aroused)

I’ll put my bag down, walk seven steps forward, two steps to the right past the couch, and kiss you hello as you continue to talk -

HUSBAND

About the crap/fuck deal that he and his crap/fuck partner want to bulldoze me into. About the Peking duck we had for lunch.

WIFE

Yes dear, “The Peking duck.” I will respond by smiling pleasantly and take four steps forward, I’ll wait for a slight pause in your speech, I’ll ask you “May I?” With my eyes, then wait for your casual nod, which will tell me that yes, yes, I may – come and stand in front of you with my hands clasped as you go on…

HUSBAND

About the waitress that Jack’s weasel dick/fuck partner wanted to fuck under the table while the other waitress watched.

WIFE

And when you finish telling me about the waitress under the table, I’ll straighten your tie, inhale your aftershave, I’ll stroke your face, and then you’ll brush me aside. I’ll run my finger over the dining room table to see if Fabiola has dusted, then I’ll turn to you, and smile appropriately before my eyes fixate on your fingers, at how adorably pudgy they’ve become, like little fancy, fancy sausages and at how crumpled…

HUSBAND

…My pants are, yes, thank you dear. I’ll walk to the bar, fix myself a drink, I’ll scan your packages and figure about eight to ten ‘thow’ in damages. I’ll look at your face and I’ll notice a slight hollowing in your cheek, collarbone, and neck. I’ll blink because I’ll confuse you with another of your interchangeable friends with their interchangeable names that you shop and spa with. Then I’ll rub my eyes, clear my throat, and ask you, but won’t really care, about your day.

WIFE

Yes, that’s right. So, let’s begin. Let’s begin by telling me about your day, let’s do it.

HUSBAND

I’ll walk over to the window, take this goddamn tie off and drape it on the back of this chair. I’ll begin to light a cigarette but then I’ll decide not to.

WIFE

Because I’ll say, not in the house dear, think of the children.

HUSBAND

I’ll be turned on by your scolding me and I’ll tell you --

WIFE

Yes, that’s right. Come on then, let’s just do what we always do. Let’s start with your…

HUSBAND

No. Tonight’s not going to be one of those nights.

(Beat. Entire household staff freezes)

WIFE

I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Fabiola, Gustavo, proceed. The car is downstairs. We must stick to our schedule. Emilio is waiting. Dinner at Per Se with the Weston’s, the Pelhams. Our reservation is at seven and it’s…

(Husband points to the clock)

Wife (Cont’d)

7:01! OH MY God! We’re due at Per Se at 7:00 PM. What will everyone think? What will they say?

HUSBAND

Who cares!

WIFE

Oh NO!

HUSBAND

Oh Yes. But let’s finish this out. For old times’ sake: I’ll mention skiing in March, St. Moritz. I’ll say, “We’re going skiing in March”, and then you’ll smile back at me with that smile of yours. I could have said, “Tomato plants attract rabbits if you don’t plant Marigolds around them,” and still, you’d smile.

WIFE

Um…I didn’t just hear that. After I smile, you’ll ask me, in your usual “playful” way, even though you already know the answer, if I know how to…um…ski?

HUSBAND

Is that something I know?

WIFE

Ha-ha honey. Of course, you do. You’ll remember that we go skiing every year at the same time, to the same place and of course you know that I know how to ski. I’ll feel happy and competent that I reminded you. I’ll smile. Secure finally, if only for a moment, that I am strong and fit.

HUSBAND

Fucking right

WIFE

Okay, so let’s begin. I need to begin. I’m getting cold over here. I’m freezing up.

HUSBAND

Not if you saw what I saw today – (as if he saw nirvana) six hundred pounds of blubber covered with thick, wet, white fur, pointy teeth, a pair of gentle but penetrating eyes - like two large black olives, oozing in a pool of olive oil, and a mouth that, well, seemed to be smiling, genuinely smilingly at me! - But more on that later. So, while at dinner, I’ll tell you a joke.

WIFE

Is this another one of your ‘bets’ with Fudderman?

HUSBAND

Cynical even for me. No, it’s bigger than that. Bigger than our puny…

WIFE

Bigger than Fifth Avenue?

HUSBAND

How sweet. Yes.

WIFE

Park?

HUSBAND

Yes dear, it’s even bigger than fucking Park Avenue.

WIFE

My God!

Ok, dear. After you are done telling your joke, I’ll clap my hands together and laugh.

HUSBAND

Like a baby seal.

WIFE (ecstatic)

That’s right. Then I’ll wait for your nod that tells me you’ve enjoyed your meal of beef cheek ravioli and maple mascarpone cheesecake. By then it will be 9:35 and we’ll be whisked back home, saying goodnight to Emilio as he drives into the night to, to, to, wherever it is they go at night…to Astoria, Queens? By 9:50 I’ll have peeked in on the children, plugged in their nightlight, and then I’ll have closed the door feeling calm knowing their lives will be identical to ours. I’ll know what dress I’ll wear to their graduation, what type of flatware will grace their tables, where they will eat dinner each night and where they will summer. All the things that define an absolutely perfect life. At 10:05 I’ll have slipped into my La Perla nightgown, and I’ll slide under our Frette sheets and rest my head lightly on your chest, matching my breath with yours until we are one. Oh, why can’t we just do it? Give me your cue so we can begin it. I’m stuck over here. My muscles are stiffening. Why are you cringing?

HUSBAND

Yeesh, fucking yeesh. Darling, I’m killing that.

WIFE

That?

HUSBAND

Our so-called ‘life.’

WIFE

C’mon now. That’s not the way we are. Why are you doing this to me?

HUSBAND

It’s time.

WIFE

It’s cruel. I’ll start to talk funny. I’ll start to lose the …

HUSBAND

Rhythm. Precisely.

(Husband rips his watch off and flings it into the fireplace. Wife gasps)

WIFE

Rolex. Gone. Rhythm. Gone - puts me nowhere. You. You’re putting me nowhere. The words, they’ll get funny, I can’t proceed if you don’t follow through, I want…I can’t, I don’t know what to do, it’s getting so chilly in here, open a window. Open a window and let the summer air in please…

(Husband opens sliding door of the balcony, a gush of wind ripples his shirt)

HUSBAND

Just jump! We’re practically dead anyway.

(Following his instruction in a robotic trance to the balcony door. Husband grasps her waist just as she is about to jump and pulls her back)

HUSBAND (Cont’d)

NO!

WIFE

Then for god’s sake begin by telling me about your day so I can put my bag down, so I can smile and walk to you and kiss you hello, so you can tell me about Fudderman and we can have the skiing talk. PLEASE. Join me here. I’m alone on stage.

HUSBAND

No more pretending.

WIFE

Why are you breaking us apart like this? Why won’t you let us do what we do?

HUSBAND

Won’t “let us?” No. Darling, you go on. Show me YOU, without me.

WIFE

NO.

HUSBAND

YES.

WIFE

NO.

WIFE

Why do you want us to be different now? We agreed you wouldn’t stray. C’mon on sweet cakes, that’s not the way we are, please, my sugar cube, my baby, baby. I’m not, it’s not in me to …why are you playing with me? What do you WANT?

WIFE (Cont’d)

Is this what you want?

(WIFE flings her jacket off. She rips her blouse off and cowers shamefully in her bra)

WIFE

TAKE IT. Take it so we can begin.

HUSBAND (softens)

Is that what you think?

WIFE

I can’t think it any other way.

HUSBAND

I’m not giving you any more cues. It’s over. It’s time, darling.

WIFE

Bbb..bbb..but..I’ll explode.

HUSBAND

Now, now, and if you do, I’ll have Fabiola scrape all the little parts of you from the walls and have them stuffed, like they do with deer, Bison, puppies, and, oh what’s the word, what do they call mounting animals? Taxidermy! Of course.

WIFE

In pieces? Stuffed? Fabiola? Is she in on this too?

(Wife looks to Fabiola who mimes zipping her lip and throws away the key)

WIFE

My god! How can you be playful at a time like this? Am I supposed to respond by clapping my hands and laughing like a baby seal? Or am I supposed to think it’s not a joke that you to want me stuffed and hanging on a wall above the fireplace. Tell me how to respond?

(Husband goes to her and massages her back)

HUSBAND

Lighten up doll face. You’ll see. Soon we’ll ALL see.

WIFE

What has happened that’s made you this way?

HUSBAND

The Great Cold.

WIFE

The common cold?

HUSBAND

The Bigger Cold. It’s that basic. Now listen we are living in a stratosphere of boredom that’s a hairline fracture away from madness.

WIFE (naively)

Boredom?

(Husband jumps up on the marble table and orates)

HUSBAND

You bet. We’re knee deep in a storm of bullshit that’s as consuming as an avalanche -- so thick, so deep, so high that…oh To Hell with it! To hell with things, and phony hello’s and, you look fabulous, how are you? P.S. I don’t give a shit, I’m a manipulative little shit like the rest of you. And kissy-kissy WHO do you know? Let’s parade our idiotic dog down the Avenue. Till death do us part – and goo-goo, and ga-ga, and tickle, tickle, tickle. It’s a boy! It’s a girl!

Oh, it’s a Barnum and Bailey world at best…

WIFE

But….Um…I’m that…I’m…them…we’re that…I’m…um…

HUSBAND

Cold? I was too. I never realized how numb my spine was until after I spent the entire afternoon watching that polar bear make circles in his cage.

WIFE

Is this who you become off schedule: some sort of savage animal viewer?

HUSBAND

You heard me sneezing this morning, well, it got worse -- told Arlene to cancel my meeting with father. Couldn’t deal with another sloppy late afternoon of him telling me what a lousy sack-of-shit-fuck-up for not getting into that ivy-prick-league-school in Boston. Oh, la-de-fucking-da Harvard. Boston. Anyway, we’re driving down Fifth and I tell Emilio to pull over. I don’t know how to describe it except to call it a force…

WIFE

Force?

HUSBAND

I was led there – straight to the bears, I was lulled into a trance as I watched them dive into the water, come up the other side, walk ten steps to the other side, over a log, then dive back in the water, up out of the water, ten steps to the other side, up over the log, then back in the water…Over and fucking over again and again. It wasn’t until the groundskeeper rapped me on the arm that I came out of it. It was closing time. Time to go home, but I was home -

WIFE

Darling, please. I’ll do anything you say, ANYTHING.

HUSBAND

I saw life as if for the first time. I’m as blind as a cave fish. I saw where I went astray – working for father of course. I’m a complete cliché. I’m the dip-shit joke of a son. The fuck-up that made one tiny mistake when I was fucking 22 and have been paying for it ever since -

WIFE

Can’t you…can’t you just go along?

HUSBAND

But it’s TRUE! I admit it. I AM a fuck up, but I’m my own fuck up, not his. AND I’m much MORE than a collection of fuckedupness. Much more. So, I called Father on my cell and I quit. I QUIT. It’s over, that phase is OVER. Then I walked through the penguin house feeling ecstatic, until I thought of you…and…I saw…Nothing. I couldn’t see you, not in my mind’s eye. You’re not in there. I spoke your name thousands of times hoping to conjure you up. I walked from 60th. St. all the way up to 125th St. over hills, meadows, Strawberry Fields, right through a baseball game! Trying desperately, but you didn’t register. I don’t know who you are. It broke my heart. I crouched down by the reservoir, and I lost it. I couldn’t stop sobbing. I thought: What have I done that makes you so…TRANSPARENT? I must help you…say something…

(WIFE shivers. Husband takes off his jacket, and drapes it around her shoulders)

WIFE

Who? You? Me? Take it. Um…Scared. What time is it now, really? What’s the real time? The restaurant, they’ll wonder where we are? They’ll think we think they’re not good enough if we’re off schedule. Who’s been playing with time? YOU. WHY DID YOU CHANGE THE TIME?

HUSBAND

Darling, there’s no need for clocks anymore. We’re making our own time.

WIFE

But, but, Chucks, hick till, suck culp, berev, stop, glup fuck ruck sick hill gill guppy. ….

(Beat)

HUSBAND

You were saying?

WIFE

Gross. No of course not, I mean maybe. This is not happening. If I close my eyes, you’ll be back to us, and what we do.

HUSBAND

NEVER! I’ll tell you what happened next, I gave the groundskeeper a big hug, then bought a hot dog from this vendor.

WIFE

GOOD GOD. A hot dog? From a vendor! In that milky spiral of scum, they float in. Sabina told me they use spit on the pretzels to make the salt stick – spit! They’re OWN HUMAN SPIT.

HUSBAND

There you go, judging yet another slice of humanity by the water they swim in, the things they spit on – I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous, “Human Spit.” That man knows who he is.

WIFE

Oh, blow it out your ear! Oh! Oh dear. Excuse me. Dear. I’m sorry; I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to say that I’m so, so, so, sorry.

HUSBAND

That’s to be expected, Ms. Stubblefield.

WIFE

I don’t know to whom you are referring. That’s my old name. That’s not our name. That’s not me. I’m not that.

HUSBAND

You’re not me either.

WIFE

Yes, I am. I’m Mrs. Morgan.

HUSBAND

No dear, that exists on a piece of paper. You are Deirdre Stubblefield. You lived in Rutland Oklahoma before boarding a bus to bright lights big ol’ New York City and taking up as a volunteer at Beth Israel Hospital where I met and fell in love with you, as YOU.

WIFE

I SAID I want ORDER.

HUSBAND

Order? Don’t you see that is precisely our problem? Order is the enemy. But go on, you’re sounding better.

WIFE

Tell me what is happening. What are you DOING? It’s all getting above board and fuzzy.

HUSBAND

Precisely.

WIFE

But who do you want me to be? Should I be smart and efficient like Bianca of Bianca and Topper. She’s a lawyer. Or should I be secretive and sly like Sabina, of Sabina and David, and have a torrid affair with Jack, you know Jack, the African American delivery boy from Gristede’s. Or should I be pious and pure like Anne of Anne and Bob – and plant pink tulips on Park Avenue in springtime. Or should I talk about books and politics in a convivial and sophisticated manner while I sip gin and tonics in the afternoon, like Rebecca of Rebecca and Tristan? Or should I be athletic and outdoorsy and trek in Nepal like Betsy, of Betsy and Mike. Or be in analysis with Dr. Botticelli, and relive the womb, like Michelle of Michelle and Adam. Who should I be if not for you? I’m lost over here. Help me.

HUSBAND

Be a dear and switch on that light behind you, it’s getting awfully dark.

WIFE

Oh, fuck you.

HUSBAND

What?

WIFE

Oh dear, I didn’t just say that it wasn’t me, I swear. This is all making me so tense. I’m not myself.

HUSBAND

You don’t say. Say it again.

WIFE

(Whisks thoughts away)

No, it wasn’t me who said it. I never said that vulgar, lower class, lowdown friggin’ fucking f-word. Oh, God fucking cock sucking fart hustling, go away thoughts. Poof. Go away, go away. I’m not thinking those thoughts. I never said that no.

HUSBAND

But you did say it. It was like hearing you for the first time.

WIFE

That’s cruel.

HUSBAND

We haven’t heard anything yet. Who are you when I won’t “let you?”

(Actor makes “quote” gestures on “Let you?”)

WIFE

I’m not.

HUSBAND

Not true – Or maybe, you might be, or you might not, we don’t know.

(Husband walks behind her and touches her shoulders)

HUSBAND (Cont’d)

Trust me?

WIFE

Trust you?

(Husband wraps his hand around her waist, holding her gently but firmly, from behind)

HUSBAND

Yes darling. Me. Give me a chance.

WIFE

What are you going to do?

HUSBAND

Fall back.

(Husband stands close and ready to catch her)

WIFE

Am I going to die?

HUSBAND

Highly unlikely. But then again, we don’t know if we don’t try.

WIFE

What happens if I do die?

HUSBAND

You’ll go to heaven.

WIFE

And what will happen to you?

HUSBAND

I’ll be right there with you. We’re entrenched, happily so. Go on. Fall.

(Wife falls stiffly back into his arms. Husband drags her gently across the room and props her up by the fireplace. She relaxes her body)

WIFE

Now what?

HUSBAND

It’s all in your hands.

WIFE

Dead. Something has died. I must remain absolutely still. If I move even an inch the furniture will fly, the windows will shatter, the sheep will die, and the corn will wilt. Oh, we had plenty of grueling tornadoes in Oklahoma you know. Wiping us out. There I was living in a bus with a bunch of smelly, whoring gypsies, stealing turkey eggs for dinner, hiding pennies from thieves, and stitching towels together for clothes to protect myself from those awful, scary…oh those terrible…yes. I was one of them. And then “pop” went fathers’ gun – my poor mother, she put it right to his head, she killed him - by accident of course.

HUSBAND

Now, now, we all know that’s not what happened. You’re Deidre Go-Lightly, you’re Deidre Stubblefield and you grew up in a house, not a bus, you lived with your seven brothers Luke, Michael, Thomas, Timothy, J.C., Jedediah, Brian, and your mother, Bea, not with a pack of gypsies. And your father didn’t kill himself, and your mother didn’t kill him either. As far as I know he was a charming drunk with a sharp tongue and oily salt and pepper hair who…

(WIFE collapses on the floor)

WIFE

Oh, how much do you hate me?

HUSBAND

I love you.

WIFE

Bbb..bb..b..But you don’t know me.

HUSBAND

You don’t want me to know you. It took the bears for me to even ask.

(Husband walks toward her, arms open)

WIFE

Shut up. Stop right there, go away, Mister.

HUSBAND

You call the shots.

(HUSBAND walks away)

WIFE

No, don’t go away. Talk to me. Come on, tell me, about the polar bears and the mounted animals, and the time that doesn’t matter. You want me to want that from you, don’t you?

HUSBAND

Who are you to tell me what it is I want?

WIFE

Um…I’m your…I’m yours to…I mean…. I’m me and you’re you, and it’s you that’s wants more.

HUSBAND

That’s right. Ok. Now we’re getting somewhere.

WIFE

But just…just look out the window. Look at that view, we’re above them all. I can act the way I’ve always dreamed of acting, have the things I always dreamed of having and if I want to destroy it…

(Wife holds an exquisite Chinese vase above her head and lets it CRASH. Husband knocks vases off the mantle with the fire poker. CRASH)

HUSBAND

Then we DESTROY IT.

(WIFE grabs a very tall candlestick and stands imperiously on a chair)

WIFE

I know what you’re doing. You want me to be good. You can’t fool me, being ‘good’ is code for being poor and you can take all those poor people out there and you can drown them all. I’m never going back there, never, never, never…

(Husband walks towards her. Wife points the candlestick at him, he backs away)

WIFE (Cont’d)

It is IMPERATIVE that you remain the way we are, I think…

(She spins around, collapses to the floor and sobs)

HUSBAND

Sweetheart, you’re not going lose all this. It’s not all or nothing. It’s not like that.

WIFE

Sure, it’s so easy for you, you at least had the polar bears to set you straight.

HUSBAND

Jealous of the bears? What is it that you really want? Open up, Pandora. Let’s see the toads, snakes the jewels….

WIFE

I want to go to sleep. I want to give that polar bear a dump truck size prescription of Prozac so he can talk a long winters nap and won’t have to swim around in that freezing cold blue water. Oh, I want so much to be good…but not poor!

HUSBAND

Wait, you’ve been there too?

WIFE

Oh, for god’s sake, yes. Months before I met you. I was working as a shop girl at Barney’s, uptown. It was the middle of May, ten in the morning – too early to punch out for lunch but I walked out anyway – rather it was a force that led me out of the store and straight into Central Park. Oh, it was a glorious day – the air was sweet with wisteria, the forsythia and the dogwoods were in full bloom as I strolled merrily to . . . the bear. As I sat watching him - I too was lulled -- I could forget where I came from and imagine the woman I wanted to become – a woman free from the pain of wanting . . . a woman who didn’t hate other people who had what she wanted – and so, I studied the women at La Goulou at Fred’s and at Valentino’s. The way that they walked and talked and soon, I became one too – I now have everything I could ever want, but then something happened…

HUSBAND

You didn’t have an affair with Jack from Gristedes did you?

WIFE

No, no…it’s bigger than that.

HUSBAND

Fudderman?

WIFE

No dear, its Bigger than an affair with fucking Fudderman.

HUSBAND

Whew. But what is it?

WIFE

When I confess, will you...?

HUSBAND

Go on already.

(Wife flings open the sliding door and grips the handrail. She screams a silent scream for a good five seconds. Dogs MOANING and HOWLING can be heard from the street and within the apartment building. The glass facade of the clock shatters)

WIFE

You talk of boredom. You have no idea…try hiding behind an empty face. You know that face. You chose it. It’s mine. I’m it. And if I weren’t just so, you’d toss me away for another face of diminished dimensions. A face as vacant as a house waiting for carpets and pictures to define it - a face for you dear, to dream into. Don’t you know? It’s the only thing I have that no one can take away. I wanted . . .

(Wife kneels on the ground)

WIFE (Cont’d)

And then the degrees made it harder. I was perfect and placid, until the degrees. …

HUSBAND

Degrees?

WIFE

Oh, it’s just so silly. It’s all such simple nonsense.

HUSBAND

What darling?

WIFE

Well, ff..ff..uck udge..fudge you, you know how I love to bake.

HUSBAND

Four to six hundred cookies in one afternoon! You know, I’ve wondered about that. Thought it was a little excessive, but…

WIFE

Yes, well, there weren’t only cookies. There were pies, candies, pastries, tea loaves, meringues, marzipans, petite fours…in the thousands… I couldn’t stop, what am I supposed to do all those afternoons waiting for you to come home. I tried being an alcoholic, but I FAILED. I kept on forgetting to take that first drink. I needed something to fill up the hours, so I went back to the cookies.

WIFE

Wwwage, wick, wwwomp, ffoo, awuz….What interests me most about baking is the science of the numbers, you know the formulas, calculations and configurations that are involved to, umm…make bread rise on, say, a hot humid day in August. Not to mention the calculation of heat density vs. convection waves stemming from the varied coordinates combined to create a continuous transfer of metabolic ions that, if measured in an imprecise way could overflow and disturb the ratio of radiation waves delivered directly to the current of degrees.

HUSBAND

Degree? As in temperature?

WIFE

Well, indirectly, I guess yes. And those degrees led to another kind, of degrees.

HUSBAND

Spit it out.

WIFE

Oh, it’s just so, so, so, so, silly darling, really, it’s just plain, out of sight silly. Let’s just forget the whole thing.

HUSBAND

Say it.

WIFE

Uh oh. Um, oh, To hell with it! To hell with it! I took classes on the sly, while you were at work, and in-between couture season, of course. Until finally all those classes led up to something, and well.

HUSBAND

Something? Go on. NO. YES. NO. Don’t say it.

WIFE

But you must hear me…I got a degree. Ivy. I got a doctorate degree in…

HUSBAND

Just tell me what state?

WIFE

Boston.

HUSBAND

NO.

WIFE

Harvard.

HUSBAND

NO.

WIFE

YES. In science: bio/thermo/nuclear/animal related physics with a minor in culinary and decorative arts. And I also paint, do architecture, sculpt, and dabble in stocks and bonds. I got my doctorate on correspondence while you were….Ugt…wuck, ret, rrig…slute, katich…

HUSBAND

This is the end!

WIFE

I’m sorry dear. I thought if I told you about it, you wouldn’t marry me knowing how you feel, and your father…

HUSBAND

Married. No. Degree. Me none. Father. Confused. Refused. No, I can’t marry you. You lied.

WIFE

That’s who I am when you strip me of my…

HUSBAND

Pale yellow Chanel dress matching shoes and handbag?

WIFE

LOOK AT ME. Do you love me now?

(Dogs howling loudly. The doorman and entire household staff looks on)

HUSBAND

I couldn’t have married you then – I was a shallow piece of shit then, but now, no. I love you till death do us part, to hold and to cherish, in health and in sickness. So, Pass Go, collect two hundred dollars, and get out of jail free! I’m free. You’re free, to be, with degree, with me, of course.

WIFE

This is all so new - I’m scared…of who I could be.

HUSBAND

Who do you want to be? Where would you like to begin?

(Wife whispers inaudibly)

HUSBAND

I’m sorry - are you saying something? HELL – O! Is there someone out there trying to say something?

WIFE

I want to GO OUT THERE AND HELP ALL THOSE SUFFERING ANIMALS, dammit.

HUSBAND

A veterinarian! With a doctorate in bio/thermo/nuclear animal related physics and you paint on the side. YES. I can seeyou as that. And what about me? I’ve quit my job. No more skiing in Switzerland, no more Gucci, Valentino, Hermes. Did I ever tell you that I’ve always wanted to be… a hot dog vendor! Yes, that’s right; A man who knows who he is. Will you still love me if I’m that?

WIFE

Hot dogs…hmm…six-inch oblong objects in milky spirals of scum…. that reminds me of….woo woo. Oh darling, how unique! How superb! How YOU!

(Husband goes to her then stops. He looks at her, bewildered)

WIFE (Cont’d)

Are you lost? You’re standing there like you’re lost.

HUSBAND

I was waiting for you to…will you let me kiss you?

WIFE

“Let you?” Now, darling haven’t we been through all of that?

(He kisses her)

HUSBAND

Let’s run away.

WIFE

To where? To what?

HUSBAND

Out there! To comfort those howling dogs! To set them free! To the zoo!

WIFE

But it’s locked up.

HUSBAND

I cut a deal with the groundskeeper.

(Husband holds up keys and winks)

HUSBAND (Cont’d)

Keys to my Jag for keys to the zoo.

(Wife throws hands up in the air. FABIOLA, FLORIST, GUSTAVO, and DOORMAN rip off their uniforms and are wearing sexy, tropical-looking outfits. They dance and play wildly.

WIFE

Zowee honee.

(Wife starts to dance alone)

HUSBAND

Here. Allow me.

(Husband picks her up and dances her around the apartment)

WIFE

I don’t know dear, but I think I could get used to the fact that I’m alive! The whole world used to frighten me. It’s been that way since my earliest days, until today, until you.

They dance joyously.

Lights fade

Detention is Detention is Detention

Cast of Characters

Ms. Z.: Ageless. Tightly wound nun with deep hidden passions. Could be played by a male or female actor

Shelby:10 years old. Sweet, vulnerable, with a feisty side

Robert: 10 years old. Walks with studied macho swagger to cover his truer sensitive nature

Place

A grade school classroom

Time

Now

Mid-afternoon

Shrieks of laughter, tears from torment and jump-rope rhymes permeate the empty classroom. Ms. Z. the teacher enters rather efficiently with a stack of papers that she drops on her desk with a loud crash. She takes out an absurdly large red Magic Marker from her desk and proceeds to make dramatic slash marks on the student's papers. She takes out an ornate Oriental fan and fans herself twice before she puts the fan back into the drawer and slams the drawer shut. A muffled rustling noise is heard from within a cubby.

SHELBY

Hey, watch it!

MS. Z.

Gracious me, who's there?

SHELBY

Um. Shoot.

MS. Z.

What…what are you doing in here? Of all the things I've seen, I've never! Young lady, what are you doing?

(SHELBY, a sweet, pale, cherubic, with brown luxurious curls carries a pair of ballet slippers and a jeweled crown, while huddling in a cubby)

SHELBY

I'm never leaving

MS.Z.

Don't be a silly girl, come. Come, come.

SHELBY

NO

MS.Z.

Why have you been sitting there all by yourself? Why don't you go and play with the other children?

SHELBY

Because I hate them.

MS. Z.

Now, now, you don't hate them.

SHELBY

I hate them and I wish they were dead.

MS. Z

Goodness, whatever happened to make you say such things?

SHELBY

I'm not talking.

MS. Z.

Perhaps you had better young lady.

SHELBY

I'm not talking to you or anybody.

MS. Z.

You can't stay here in this cubby all by yourself. I won't have it.

SHELBY

I need time to think.

MS.Z.

Excuse me?

SHELBY

You heard me.

MS. Z.

Yes, that's true I did hear you, but I don't quite understand you.

(Shelby’s ballet slippers and crown drop to the floor. She puts her hands to her ears)

SHELBY

LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

MS.Z.

How on earth did you get such an ornery disposition?

SHELBY

YOU!!

MS Z.

ME??

SHELBY

You and the rest of them here.

MS.Z.

Did you have words with Robert at snack-time?

(The mention of Roberts name causes Shelby to squirm)

SHELBY

Words?

MS.Z.

Did he say something disagreeable to you, something that might have mildly upset you?

SHELBY

(unconvincingly)

He's the stupidest one of all.

MS. Z.

AHA!!

SHELBY

AHA nothing.

MS.Z.

But you like Robert.

SHELBY

I put my sisters' nail polish remover in his chocolate milk, every day for the past month.

MS.Z.

You did not. You're just saying that due to your provocative nature, am I correct?

Silence

MS.Z. (Cont’d)

Even if you don't answer me young lady, I assume it is safe to say that you did not put poison in his milk, am I correct?

SHELBY

He's going to die a long, slow, and if we are lucky, silent death.

MS. Z.

Take that back.

SHELBY

NO WAY JOSE. I won't take anything back until he takes back what he said to me.

MS. Z.

What did he say to you?

SHELBY

(softly) He said that you were a fat witch with a prune face.

MS.Z.

Excuse me.

SHELBY

He said that he saw you take Bugsy out of his cage and they you had sex with him.

MS. Z.

Good God. A Rabbit.

SHELBY

He said that I was going to roast in Hell like one of those rotisserie chickens in the Deli if I didn't let him punch me.

MS. Z.

And what did you do?

SHELBY

I let him punch me.

(Ms. Z. rubs her forehead and meditates. Ms. Z. drags one of the children's painting easels over to the closet and conducts a lesson)

MS. Z.

Young lady, it was time that someone enlightened you.

SHELBY

But Robert already DID frighten me.

MS.Z.

Enlighten not frighten. Listen to me very carefully now and I promise that what I must tell you know will be the most invaluable bit of information you will ever receive.

SHELBY

Am I going to die?

MS.Z.

Not if you listen carefully.

SHELBY

What if I do die in the end?

MS. Z.

You will go to heaven. Now, the first thing you need to know about boys is that they hate girls. It is one of those things in nature that has not corrected itself. They grow up to be men and guess what---they hate woman. This is a fact, and this is what you and I are given by God to work with. Now -

SHELBY

I hated Robert way before he hated me, way before.

MS.Z.

Excellent. Now, it is true that boys like to punch girls. They like to punch them and then they like to see them suffer.

SHELBY

Roberts' punch hurt. I still have a bruise.

(Shelby picks up her arm, happy to have a witness and displays her bruise. Ms. Z. examines it briefly with her eyes and moves on)

MS.Z.

Excellent. Viable evidence that acts as proof to my theory.

SHELBY

I tried to cover it with a Spice Girl tattoo, but it wouldn't hold.

MS. Z.

Of course not. Now, let me continue. The next time Robert wants to punch you, let him.

SHELBY

Huh?

MS.Z.

The reason is that you must learn to submit. You must learn to take what you think you have coming to you and then, when they least expect you, you fry their asses.

SHELBY

I what?

MS. Z.

Ahem, you pretend that he is the master and then, when he thinks you are his slave, you turn around and flirt with another boy to make him jealous.

SHELBY

Couldn't I just stay in my cubby for the rest of the school year?

MS. Z.

Of course not, because when you discover how good it feels to slay men, you won't ever want to stop. You'll see. Soon, you will have experienced one of the varied virtues of being a woman.

(Shelby looks down at her feet. She looks up at Ms. Z.)

SHELBY

You’re not a Girl Scout leader, are you?

(Ms. Z. raises her eyebrows and looks down at Shelby for a reflective, suspicious moment, thinking that Shelby had read her mind)

MS. Z.

I was considering it. But that's irrelevant.

SHELBY

Jenny's mother is a leader, and I don't think she would get along with you.

MS. Z.

That's not the point. The truth that I am conveying to you is, that submissiveness and then manipulation is the ticket to a life of happiness. And believe me, and listen carefully, because this is important to remember: if you experience any amount of guilt about what you're up to: It hurts them so little, and it gives us so much pleasure.

SHELBY

Huh?

(A loud annoying SCHOOL BELL. Children's feet are heard as they clamor into the school building and down the corridors towards the classrooms)

MS.Z.

That's the bell. Soon the other children will be coming in. Are you going to stay in there and sulk or are you going to come out ready to fight?

SHELBY

OK, but you must tell me something first.

MS.Z.

What?

SHELBY

Tell me you didn't have sex with Bugsy.

MS. Z.

That my dear is something you are going to have to decide for by yourself.

SCENE 2

Later that same day. The afternoon light has cast shadows on the empty desks. All the children have gone home, except Shelby. She sits at her desk copiously practicing her writing exercise. Ms. Z. parades up and down the aisles of desks.

SHELBY

Can I go home now?

MS.Z.

There are many things to discuss first and then you may go. Detention is nothing to be taken lightly. There are many reasons why it is a standard forty-five minutes long. It's an intricate process.

SHELBY

Detention is intricate?

MS. Z.

Ever so much so.

SHELBY

Does that mean that you're going to make me stay here forever?

MS.Z.

We'll see. First, let me see your paper.

(She examines)

Ms. Z. (Cont’d)

Why don't these Q's have tails?

SHELBY

Because they're O's.

MS.Z.

Oh. Oh, I see. Don't be cute with me.

SHELBY

I wasn't being cute.

MS. Z.

Is this how it started?

SHELBY

How what started?

MS. Z.

You were being cute, Robert punched you and then you punched him back.

Was that the sequence of events that led you to your detention fate?

SHELBY

I wasn't being cute. Robert is a bully.

MS. Z.

That very well may be true, but there are other ways for a woman to get back at a man without having to resort to physical violence.

SHELBY

I wasn't being cute. Can I go now?

MS. Z.

Absolutely not. I will give you approximately fifteen seconds to explain why you had it out with Robert in a way that did not execute our previously discussed methods of retaliation. Surely you must have learned an alternate method of defending yourself after our talk at recess. Begin now.

SHELBY

But I did try to defend myself. Robert is bigger than me.

MS. Z.

Clearly you like to think that.

SHELBY

But he is.

MS. Z.

In your mind he is a giant, as far as I can tell, he is a Lilliputian.

SHELBY

A what?

MS. Z.

A Lilliputian. A mere speck. A very small boy. A carnivorous bi-ped. A flea, call him what you will, but don't ever forget that he is a minor male specimen. But we'll get back to that later. First, tell me what complexity came over you that impelled you to punch Robert in the eye instead of the arm?

SHELBY

I don't know what you mean.

MS. Z.

I see, well than, it is a fine way to segue into my next part of the experiment. The hypothesis being thus: For you to prevent getting punched and then punching back, I suggest you follow my advice. Start with a conversation having to do with sports, dirt, and reptiles. That, my dear pupil, is the sort of stuff that circulates inside of boy's minds. And the way for a girl to defend herself is to understand the shallowness of men and then to do whatever is required of her to penetrate their thick skulls with topics that inculcate the best and most immediate response. False but modest flattery has always been a favorite of mine.

SHELBY

I don't know anything about dirt or reptiles. I think I hear the horn on the late bus. It's getting dark, can I be excused now?

MS. Z.

No, our lesson has not been concluded. I have asked Robert to stay behind as well.

SHELBY

WHAT? Where is he?

MS. Z.

He's waiting in the next room. I am going to bring him in, and I want you to show me that you have learned a thing or two. I want you to walk away having learned that no boy, no man has the power to punch you again. I also want to observe the moment when you feel the need to punch him. If that should occur, I will pull you aside and instruct you to employ the flattery technique. He is wearing a smart, semi-flattering short-sleeved plaid button-down shirt. I want you to tell him that the blue in his shirt is very becoming and it highlights the blue in his eyes.

SHELBY

I will not.

MS. Z.

Oh, but you will. Robert, you can come in now. Shelby, put your pen down, pinch your cheeks and pout.

SHELBY

What?

MRS. Z.

Do as I say. You want to have the air of victim slash angel when he sees you. First impressions are the keys to our gaining entree, insight, and leeway into the tight corridors of R's mind.

SHELBY

Who is R?

MS.Z.

Who is R? Yes, a very good question. A very good, direct, simple yet sophisticated question indeed. A question so inspired that the glass half empty now appears to be half full. The hourglass of time has been turned upside down, replenished with fresh sand and there is hope for us yet.

SHELBY

It's Robert, isn't it?

MS.Z.

As far as we know, he is Robert. Yes, that is true. Robert Pliskin to be sure, an enemy, a brute, a swine of sorts and brutally misinformed about the subtleties of the ways to the heart of a little girl. That is as clear as the bottom of a shot glass. Eh?

SHELBY

Isn't shot glass broken?

MS. Z.

Oh…mmm…If there's ice in it, it could appear that way, that's true, but we're straying from the main objective. What we don't know of course about R, and what we will learn, indeed, is what our little R is made of. The question then arises; is there more, much more underneath that ragout of red ringlets? If we excavate further, will we discover something other than swirling images of reptiles and dirt? And, when we have exhausted our energies, probed deep enough, we will determine whether he will earn the remaining vowels and syllables to his name. The lesser objective being, is R and R, or is R a Robert?

SHELBY

Can I call my mother?

MS. Z.

Certainly not. Detention is detention is detention.

(Robert, an adorable urchin with a ragout of red ringlets stands in the doorway. He looks at Shelby, it is clear he has deep affection for her. Shelby blushes and smiles slightly)

ROBERT

Uck…It smells like girls in here.

MS. Z.

I knew I heard a dawdler. Sir R, was that you rattling your pencil and then leaving a mark along the wall as you walked down the hallway?

ROBERT

It wasn’t a pencil. It was a Magic Marker.

MS. Z.

Most effective. I'll inform Janitor Jenkins about your contributions to his wall in the morning. In the meanwhile, wipe that muck off your cuff and take a seat in the back row.

ROBERT

It's grease from my bike and its permanent.

MS. Z.

And what if I took a scissors and cut that permanent little muck stain out of your cuff?

ROBERT

They're my favorite pants!!

(Ms. Z analyzes him as though he were in a petri dish)

MS. Z.

Mm, I see: pleading slash protest, eh? A rank amateur. Dawdle on over to the seat across from your 'friend' Shelby. Shelby, take note of the last phrase from your enemy slash companions' mouth. To a pedestrian's eye he is repulsed by our feminine scent. But to a discerning eye, he wants to get closer to you and more specifically, he wants to be invited. It is at this moment when you can employ your skills of tact. Look into his left eye, Gesture with your right hands towards the seat beside you and conclude with, 'Please R, take a seat near me."

SHELBY

I will not. He's a dope.

(Ms. Z. looks deep into Shelby's eyes, as if hypnotizing her)

MS. Z.

You abhor him.

SHELBY

I adore him. I adore him.

MS. Z.

You abhor him.

SHELBY

I'm bored by him?

MS.Z.

Close enough. You're learning. Get out of your chair and stand on your two feet.

(As Shelby stands her ballet slippers falls to the ground)

ROBERT

I left something burning in the boys’ room. I gotta go.

MS. Z.

A mind-boggling reaction to ballet slippers Porgy Georgie. You're not going anywhere.

(Mrs. Z. helps Shelby onto the chair. Appraises her new model and starts adjusting)

MS. Z. (Cont’d)

Now, relax your hands and rest them at your sides. Raise your head a bit, take a breath and lower your eyelids ever so slightly. Magnificent! Ahem. Excuse me, Queeeeeen Nefrititi, Goddess Cybele, Madame Aspasia are you about to fill the air with your words? Is there something you would like to say to our detention courtesan? OR perhaps there is something he would like to say to you?

(Robert looks at Shelby and blushes. He looks down at his feet and shuffles his feet shyly)

MS. Z. (Cont’d)

Cat got your tongue or has the girl got your number?

ROBERT

She hit me back!!

MS. Z.

Quid pro quo eh Robbie? Poor, poor Rowbearr What happened? What words were exchanged? She must have said something powerfully poignant or horrifyingly hurtful to cause you to hit her. You hit her Robert. Why? And you hit back. What pray tell happened? What was the precise exchange that caused you to dive right along with him into the swamp of violence without a facemask?

(Silence. Afraid to admit that the punch was an amorous mistake)

MS. Z. (Cont’d)

A Zen silence has enveloped my two stoic mutes. In that case we are going to have to re-enact the crime. Sort out the dirty details. Simple enough.

SHELBY

No, wait. He. I . .

(Robert does a cartwheel. Pennies, gum, a unicorn eraser and nuts and bolts fall out of his pockets and scatter onto the floor. Shelby enjoys his performance and giggles. Like a monkey, he jumps on a long bench and does a handstand. Shelby claps)

MS. Z.

A veritable circus animule in our midst.

(Robert leaps to the floor to retrieve the eraser. Ms. Z. and waves it high into the air)

MS. Z.

Only an unwise animule would leave evidence like this in his tracks.

SHELBY

Hey, that's my eraser. It's mine.

MS. Z.

Of course, it is.

SHELBY

I must have left my pencil case in the music room this morning. How did he get it?

MS. Z.

He is a thief. A thief through and through, a thorough thief. A garden variety, unashamed, unabashed thief. Let us pause here, let us reflect, let us refrain from our overriding desire to persecute, character nullify and instead let us penetrate deeper into the little shank's shady mind.

ROBERT

That eraser could be anybody's.

MS.Z.

In the larger scope, yes. Everything and anything could be anyone's, that's true. But what we have in front of us is, (MRS. Z. holds the eraser high in the air.) is THIS, YOU and HER. This colorful little gummy square belongs to HER, yet it was found on YOU. And, my friend, both your pocket warren and your right thing have made it WARM!!!!

ROBERT

SO?

MS. Z.

So, fella, if you want to be close to her, why didn't you just ask her? OR is speech not your language?

ROBERT

She….I didn't… It wasn't like…aw…she's a freak.

(Robert does a mock impression of a ballerina)

SHELBY

I am not!! You wanted to be in my piece. You said yes. You have to be like all the other stupid boys. You're just like my brothers. YOU'RE JUST CHICKEN SHIT!!!

MS. Z.

Could be, we don't know. A piece you say. You wanted him to be in a piece, a piece of what sort?

Silence

ROBERT

See, she's a freak.

MS. Z.

If you clam up now my dear, no one will ever know if a pearl exists within you or not.

SHELBY

I want to choreograph a dance for everyone who’s been burned in a fire.

MS. Z.

Encore. Forte. Come again.

SHELBY

I want to choreograph a dance for everyone who's been burned in a fire.

(Ms. Z. shudders at her words)

MS. Z.

An epic solution. Of course, you do my dear. And you shared this with Rowbear and then what happened?

SHELBY

He hit me.

(Ms. Z. is completely unsatisfied with Shelby’s rendition of the story)

MS. Z.

It took place in the music room, no?

SHELBY

Yes.

MS.Z.

Robert was playing the recorder, no?

SHELBY

Yes.

MS. Z.

And then?

SHELBY

He hit me.

MS. Z

Nonsense!

(Ms. Z. re-enacts the scene according to her own very dramatic imaginings)

MS. Z.

You never heard anything more beautiful in your life, you felt dizzy, and you leaned against the door. You wanted to cry, but you didn't because you didn't want him to stop. He looked up at you and he smiled. You smiled back and then he….

SHELBY

He told me to get out.

MS. Z.

But he didn't mean it, no, not really. You went over to where he was sitting. You were locked in a visible embrace with him. You felt his pulse in your heart. He prattled sweet nothings into your ear, you confided your deepest secrets back to him. You spoke in lugubrious, passionate phrases about your dance. Your dance is for everyone who's been burned in a fire, yes. That is something I think we all can relate to. That feeling of being burned. I know I can. And then….

SHELBY

Well, sort of like that, I guess. I did give him the melody. That's sort of like speaking in passionate phrases, I think. I did tell him that it would begin in pitch darkness. I told him that I would be on the dark stage and that when I lit a match, he could begin to play. That was pretty much a secret, I never told anyone but him. It was something that I saw in my dream.

MS. Z.

His eyes welled up and he bowed at your request.

SHELBY

He laughed at me and called me a freak. But…

MS. Z.

But you saw beyond his defensive yet ultimately defenseless male ego.

SHELBY

I saw that he had been tapping his foot to the beat. I knew he was going to say yes. I just felt it.

MS. Z.

She just felt it.

SHELBY

And then he closed the door and said that he would do it. But if I told anyone that he would kill me. And then…

MS. Z.

You hit him.

SHELBY

No, but I wanted to.

And then Dumb Danny Schwartz comes by the window, and he starts yelling FAG FAG. And then Robert pretended like he didn't know who I was.

Silence

SHELBY (Cont’d)

I couldn't stand it. And then that's when I hit him.

(Robert sings LOUDLY)

ROBERT

IF YOU WANT TO FEEL GOOD, FIND YOURSELF A BAD BOY.

(As Robert circles MS. Z., he accidentally bumps the chair that Shelby is standing on. Shelby falls to the ground, twisting her ankle)

SHELBY

OW!!

MS. Z.

A First Aid Kit is in order. See to it that she's looked after while I'm away, will you?

(Ms. Z. exits)

ROBERT

Hey, wait a second.

(MS. Z. waits outside of the classroom. She faces the audience while listening)

MS. Z.

(To audience) A classic method of fate in the making involves a little harmless eavesdropping.

(Robert hesitates a moment before going over to Shelby. He peeks out of the door to see if the coast is clear. Ms. Z. ducks to avoid his gaze. Robert approaches Shelby earnestly)

ROBERT

Hey, are you alright?

SHELBY

Go Away.

ROBERT

Look, I didn't mean it. I was aiming for her if you really want to know. Here. Let me.

(Robert helps her on the chair. He crouches and massages her ankle)

ROBERT (Cont’d)

Oh, it's not that bad. I think you'll be fine. Look, no bruises.

SHELBY

But you're sorry anyway, right?

Silence

ROBERT

Right.

SHELBY

Right, what?

ROBERT

I'm sorry Shelby.

SHELBY

Aw, it was practically my fault. I don't what I was doing up there anyway. You don't have to play your recorder in my dance. I could ask him Jamie Wright.

ROBERT

Jamie Wright is a dick. I can't believe you were thinking of that ass head dick Jamie.

SHELBY

The blue in your shirt nicely highlights the blue in your eyes. They're as blue as Paul Newman's.

ROBERT

Yeah, you think so. You sure you're not just looking at the blue left from the swipe you took at my eye this morning?

SHELBY

No, I swear it. They highlight the blue in your shirt, and it is very flattering.

ROBERT

All right. I'll do it. And look, I won't even make you pay. But you can't go around telling everyone ok?

SHELBY

I promise.

(Ms. Z. enters. Shelby has a knee jerk reaction and kicks Robert in the chin)

ROBERT

OW.

MS. Z.

Ah, communion at last.

ROBERT

What took you so long? Did you find yourself a bad boy?

MS. Z.

Je suis tres desolee! Il n'existe pas!

ROBERT

Huh?

(The light has gotten visibly darker in the classroom. Ms. Z. goes to the closet and puts her cardigan on. She goes to Shelby and Robert and pats them on their heads)

MS. Z.

Go home. Detention has paved a way for you into the tundra of life. A life riddled with intricate maneuvers, false pratfalls and pressing engagements. I leave you two to fend for yourselves. If sympathy means that we suffer together than you have mine. Our little lesson is over. I walk with my head high knowing that three of my suppositions were proven and affirmed. The first: the only way to understand the subtleties of a little girl's heart is by way of respect, the second: that manipulation, flattery, and guile were mere suggestions, a minor catalyst when really these tools are employed by woman on an instinctual level. There is nothing that she needs to be taught about men that she doesn't already know. And the third and last being…. The Turtle is my Totem.

ROBERT and SHELBY

HUH???

(A school bus HONKS its horn)

ROBERT

C'mon. Let's get out of here.

(Robert leads Shelby out. The room is quiet. Ms. Z bends down and picks something up. Shelby comes back in, pauses as though she would like to say something. Ms. Z. pats her head and hands Shelby her ballet slippers. She waves Shelby away. MS. Z. walks to her desk and on the way, she picks up the unicorn eraser. She puts it in her sweater pocket. She turns out the light and exits)

Black out

A Firing

Cast of Characters

WOMAN: 30’s Extravagant, indulgent, has a vulnerable side to her that she hides

MAN: 30’s intelligent, formal, in denial about his son’s needs.

BOY: 12 years old. Bright, vulnerable, ANGRY

PARROT: Vindictive

Time

Now

Place

A Cramped New York Apartment

A large living room furnished with ornate rococo chairs, a glitzy chandelier, lamps with tassels, Persian rugs, and Day-Glo pillows- all suggesting money and yet there is something neglected, chaotic, slightly gothic and eccentric about the condition and arrangement. Along one wall are gas-lit torches and family photographs. A PARROT sits on a perch by an open window stage right by the bar. A WOMAN late 30’s a former dancer/ bombshell. A MAN, 50’s, handsome and rich looking sits on a bar stool stage right next to her smoking intensely. All in all, a striking couple in love with themselves indulging in narcissistic banter that verges on foreplay and which only they understand. They get progressively sloppier as they alternately laugh, kiss, cozy up to each other, admire themselves in the mirror, smoke, drink and refer to the PARROT and to whom they express their truer emotions.

WOMAN

I'm looking for a Green Beret.

MAN

You slipped on a banana peel.

WOMAN

Can we start over?

MAN

It was your idea.

WOMAN

I love you.

MAN

You always say that when you want to start over.

WOMAN

You are always so quick to spot these things out.

(MAN points to the PARROT)

MAN

Give us a song.

PARROT

Sing a Song of Sixpence, pence upon a pie---

(The MAN pins his nose with his fingers and turns away as if to say P.U! The BOY enters courageously. He carries a plump knapsack with a hockey stick sticking out, a la’ Huck Finn, and carrying a piece of paper)

WOMAN

What would you like to hear? Smooth Jazz, Whipped Tango or Bracing Blues?

MAN

I'm going to leave it up to you to decide.

WOMAN

I love you.

MAN

You're doing it again.

(The PARROT imitates an Englishman hailing a TAXI)

PARROT

SIR. TAXI! Over here please! Taxi!

(From the street: Two Taxi’s SWERVE. CRASH. An ARUGEMENT ensues)

PARROT

Ha Ha Ha.

WOMAN

Sue me!

MAN

I'm a lawyer by trade only. I'd no longer sue you than sue the person who runs this place.

(MAN gets up and goes to light his cigarette on one of the torches. He lights his cig above the boy’s head but is oblivious of BOY. He returns to the bar)

WOMAN

You're funny. Tell me a story.

MAN

I love you.

WOMAN

Hey, that's my story.

MAN

Sue me!

WOMAN

Stop it! It’s the bird I Love. I love you bird. I love you. I love YOU.

(BOY takes the photos of himself off the wall. He begins to put them in his knapsack but thinks better of it and drops them in a nearby garbage can instead)

WOMAN

I NEED you to make me want to be with you for the rest of my life.

MAN

OK, what do you want to hear?

WOMAN

I want you to tell me, inch by inch, EVERYTHING that is going to happen to us when I spend the rest of my life with you -- ok? One, two, three GO!

MAN

We'll wake up.

WOMAN

OK. One.

MAN

We'll eat breakfast.

WOMAN

OK. That's two. Cut to the chase.

MAN

We'll have sex.

WOMAN

THREE. WAHOO!

PARROT

WAHOO. CAW.

WOMAN

Well zipper my lip.

MAN

Don't say what you don't really mean. You were in a daze darling.

WOMAN

I hear bells.

MAN

It's the wind chimes on the porch.

(BOY gathers his strength again. He awkwardly but forcefully sticks the paper in-between the MAN and the WOMAN. They stop and stare at the BOY)

WOMAN

Oh, look dear, a message. Give me a massage.

(MAN massages her breasts)

BOY

Y….yyy oouryou're ffff….

(BOY bangs himself against the bar to get the words out)

BOY (Cont’d)

Ff.ff…ff…ff…bb…b. bb.oth of you. YOU’RE FIRED.

MAN

You can't fire us. We're your parents.

WOMAN

A little to the right dear.

BOY

It’s dd..dd..ifficult tt..t…ss…

MAN

(To Boy)

Go on.

WOMAN

(Encouraging Boy)

Give it a gung-ho! Give it a glory hallelujah! Give me a kiss.

MAN

And what of me? You always say that when you want to start over. Bend over.

(BOY stamps his foot and the words flow out forcefully)

BOY

I WILL NOT LET THIS BE DIFFICULT. I've packed my knapsack. I'm going to live over in Greg's garage.

WOMAN

Have you got beans for brains?

BOY

Greg’s mother doesn’t say things like that. This is what I mean. I've thought long and hard. Consider yourself without a son. Just pretend that that day, twelve years ago, July 16, never happened. I was never born by you. I don't know you, and you don't know me.

MAN

What about all those baby pictures? We have pictures you know. We still have PROOF that you exist.

BOY

It's not proof, its evidence. I'm leaving. Sign it please. And don't bother asking about me because I've already instructed Greg to lie. Greg knows EVERYTHING.

WOMAN

Dear me, where did we go wrong?

MAN

Uh...Going back, with reference to Greg and what he knows, let's get derivative about that EVERYTHING. What SPECIFICALLY, specifically does he know?

BOY

He knows it all. Every last bit of it.

WOMAN

Darling, you might have... I would have said technical instead of derivative, or even specifically for that matter.

MAN

All right then, technically it's all derivative. Now, ain't that the monkey's uncle.

WOMAN

You mean Marty?

MAN

Uncle Marty? No. Well maybe ---

WOMAN

Planet of the Apes, he was in it, Marty was in The Planet of the Apes, actually in on it, on the screen...Go on Dear tell the boy about the face paint and the hair installments ---

BOY

Just so you know, I wrote all the things I wish you were. I put down the stuff about not picking me up, not remembering my name, forgetting what grade I’m in, not knowing that I like soccer and that I want to be a pilot. Just sign it at the bottom.

MAN

A list of grievances.

WOMAN

A Registry of Complaints. It’s not like we didn't try.

MAN

No, we tried.

(MAN and WOMAN stare at the BOY as though he were a novelty item in a store window. They light up a cigarette and smoke)

WOMAN

(Makes a cradling motion with her arms.)

Aw. Look at the boy.

MAN

Just look at him.

PARROT

Beans for Brains. Beans for Brains. Caw. Caw.

WOMAN

Aw. Aw. I love you. I truly love you.

MAN

(Stretches his hand out to Boy)

It's been a real tonic having you here...son.

(MAN goes to door and opens it --- shows the BOY out)

BOY

Hey.

WOMAN

(Shrugs her shoulders)

But. These things happen...

MAN

In short order.

WOMAN

Yes, why don't we ---

(They hold up The Wall Street Journal as though it were a large menu)

BOY

This is all what I’m talking about. It’s like I’m not even here.

(They hold “menus” up higher in front of their eyes)

MAN

What will you have, some toast or filet min boing boing?

WOMAN

Give me a goose willya?

MAN

Straightaway.

(He gooses her)

WOMAN

Ooooh. OUCH. AW, now that feels better than it could have tasted.

BOY

This is why I’m leaving and never coming back.

MAN

Sans the fat.

WOMAN

That's French. Thank you, dear drums.

MAN

So is filet min-boing boing.

BOY

Greg's parents don't talk this way. It's filet mignon. No one in the REAL world talks like this. It’s not NORMAL. I've had it with you. Can't you see?

WOMAN

(Surprised. Looks at BOY)

We're blind dear, didn't you know?

BOY

Stop it. You are not. I saw you seeing me just a minute ago.

WOMAN

Now, now, you're sounding peculiar.

MAN

She has a point. In a case like this, you'd need proof.

BOY

Proof. You want proof. How many fingers am I holding up, oh no that's too easy....

(BOY digs into his knapsack)

WOMAN

He's got something up his sleeve. Can't we start over again?

MAN

I love you. Tell me a story. Tell me what we are going to do when I spend the rest of my life with you.

(The BOY takes out a soccer ball and throws it at the WOMAN)

BOY

Think twice.

(She catches it)

BOY (Cont’d)

Gotcha. Blind as a bat.

WOMAN

(She flings the ball back)

Sticks and stones may crack my bones, but tailgaters never linger. My vision, dear boy, is selective.

PARROT

Vision Selective. Vision Selective. Vision Selective.

(The PARROT imitates the phone RINGING)

PARROT

RING-A-LING-A-LING.

WOMAN

Do you want to get that dear?

(MAN goes to phone, picks it up. Takes a couple of introspective seconds before he figures it out)

PARROT

(Blood curdling)

SQWUAWCK.

MAN

Well spark in the dark.

(The BOY has taken out a model airplane and a Boy Scout Jackknife. The knife catches the WOMAN’S attention. She drinks nervously. She turns to The MAN. The BOY holds the jackknife up and pretends like he is going to slash his wrists. The woman has a moment of true concern on her face. She looks quickly at the MAN and then quickly back at the BOY. She does this three times)

WOMAN

Uh oh, oh devil dip dear hug me help.... I’m having a feeling.... I..ccc..cc..an’t breathe...

MAN

Whoa, horsy. Quiet down there, little lady. That them feelings you’re talking about, well thems yar pestilent condition.

PARROT

Pestilent condition. Pestilent condition. Pestilent…

(BOY goes over to WOMAN to see if some of her feelings are for him)

MAN

Ya know what I mean, dewy doe dove, dove?

WOMAN

Feelings? My condition? Well, yes, I see, but let's try not to know, ok? Kiss me willya?

(BOY closes the jackknife and puts it in his knapsack)

BOY

See, you do know. Trying not to know is knowing and you know it. You see everything.

WOMAN

Oh.uh oh.... tell me how we first met dear, will you, will you dear.

MAN

On the stool.

(Boy starts playing soccer around them, knocks over a lamp)

BOY

(To Woman)

Ooops. Don’t mind me.

WOMAN

(To MAN)

I was swiveling ---

MAN

I sat next to you ---

BOY

I was voted MVP this year. My name is Michael, my teacher’s name is Mrs. Peterson and one day I’m going to be a pilot.

WOMAN

We swiveled together digger darling. Carnegie Hall.

(BOY follows them swiveling in their bar stools)

BOY

And then you had me. REMEMBER ME?

MAN

(They smooch)

Oh Baby. Cozy conch contagious. I was on my first case.

WOMAN

You judge, me judgette. Me no want to sit, me want to dance. Let's dance.

(They dance. The PARROT imitates a doorbell BUZZING)

WOMAN

Do you want to see who that is dear?

BOY

That's it!

(As he slays the knapsack over his shoulder the hockey stick grazes the torches, and it smolders. BOY opens door. His stutter is back)

BOY (Cont’d)

I'm ggg..ggg..oing, FOR gg..gg..oood. You'll nn..nn..nneeVER NEVER NEVER see me again. I swear…

WOMAN

Wound me. If that’s how you’ll have it. I’ll never be guilty of not giving you what you want. If only you knew how I wanted to want for you. But go ahead, hurt me, and then go.

BOY

No, I don’t want to go, not exactly.

MAN

So, stay.

BOY

Do you mean it?

MAN

Of course, not – You can’t stay and at the same time honor what you originally said you wanted. Go. Yes.

BOY

And… But…Oh forget it. What’s the use! You will NEVER see me again. THIS IS IT. FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

(BOY walks hesitantly towards the door)

PARROT

(Imitates the doorbell)

BUZZ. Ding-dong.

WOMAN

Go on dear, it could be an outsider.

(MAN walks past BOY, opens the door, no one there, he slams it shut)

MAN

No one there.

PARROT

HA HA HA.

MAN

Well race in my face --- no one there, why I oughtta.

(MAN lunges at bird as though he is going to ring its neck)

PARROT

Pretty bird, pretty bird. PRETTY, VERY VERY PRETTY Hubba Hubba...

(Imitates the plumber's voice)

Ya want me to clean your pipes today lady, or what?

(WOMAN is flushed and flattered. MAN, in a jealous outrage, lunge

at the bird)

MAN

Why I oughtta...

PARROT

CAW CAW. PRETTY PLEASE. PRETTY BIRD. PRETTY PLEASE BIRD.

Charbroiled…nothing like the real thing baby...Burger King Burger King

(BOY throws a cloth over the PARROT’S cage)

BOY

Go AWAY.

PARROT

HA HA HA

(MAN addresses BOY in a very serious manner)

MAN

Now, where were we? Proof? Proof is…you’re still here. Let’s get to the bottom of this. There’s mottle on your face. Something has gone terribly wrong. Something about a fire?

BOY

Fired. You.

MAN

Let's start all over, shall we?

BOY

Well, Ok.

WOMAN

(To MAN)

I love you.

PARROT

(In the MAN’s voice)

You always say that when we start over.

WOMAN

Sue me.

MAN

Let’s all start over, eh?

(MAN gives reassuring smile and pulls up a chair for BOY. BOY looks at him suspiciously. MAN gestures for him to sit down. The BOY sits down first, followed by the WOMAN and MAN, all reluctantly. An awkward silence)

BOY

Um...

MAN

Yes. Good. Go on.

BOY

I...

MAN

Good again.

BOY

I ddod dddont’.

WOMAN

Yes. Very good again.

BOY

Well…uh. To.... well...um…I…I dddoon…. I.I.I… uh…I. Dd..dd...dd…don't like you.

(No reaction. BOY continues)

BOY

I wasn’t sure if it was true, but I think I’m right and --

(Still no reaction. BOY gets bolder and speaks more rapidly, feverishly)

BOY (Cont’d)

I dd..d….on’t have ESP or anything, but I can just tell that you don’t like me. Gg..rreg's mother pricks plip picks him up from soccer games, Greg’s parents remember what his name is. Greg’s parents know how old he is, they know what grade he's in and I..I..I..I.'ve nup rtkpl nn nn never, eevver heard them say they’re going to try not to know, something, they wear glasses and…I WANT….

WOMAN

Perhaps he wants something. Go on dear offer him a little food, will you. It's the least we can do, after all.

(MAN slaps his knee)

MAN

Capital Idea.

(MAN is about to go, and then stands frozen. He looks at BOY as though he were some highly abstract math problem. He scratches his head)

WOMAN

Food dear. Here, let me help you.

(WOMAN walks confidently over to BOY. She carries a bag of shelled peanuts. She takes out a few peanuts and is just about to feed him when she too is struck dumb. She looks at the food. She looks at BOY. She looks at the food. She looks at BOY. Silence. In a moment of extreme discomfort, she drops the bag of peanuts and throws her arms up in the air. She races towards the MAN and embraces him)

WOMAN

Morocco!

BOY

Greg's house is FILLED with food: Cheeseburgers, Sunny Doodles, Doritos, Frozen Chicken fingers, Mashed potatoes, cherry pies... I don't need your grubby peanut food anyway.

MAN

In April, of course.

WOMAN

I'll need new luggage. Such a long and winded flight.

MAN

Anything hoochie coo thing you want doe a dear.

(WOMAN snatches BOY’S knapsack. BOY snatches it away from her. She grabs it back. A tug-0-war ensues)

BOY

It's mine!

(She wins)

MAN

So, we're all settled. Morocco in April. Arrivederci Roma. Case closed.

WOMAN

Let's sing, and dance, and laugh, and sing, and dance ---

(PARROT imitates a man hailing a taxi with a thick Irish accent)

PARROT

Taxi! Oh, Taxi!

(Sound of a car SWERVING brakes, SCREECHING and CRASH. BOY grabs the knapsack from WOMAN and swings it over his shoulder. The hockey stick knocks over one of the gas torches and sets the curtains on fire)

BOY

It’s mine.

(Flames spread around MAN and WOMAN. The paper the boy walked in with flies into the air. BOY catches it, walks to the door, and opens it)

WOMAN

It’s hot in here. Open a window.

MAN

We’re hot or cold here. Let’s dance.

(MAN and WOMAN dance as the flames build up around them, and finally towards PARROT)

PARROT

Pretty Hot. Pretty Cold. Ack. FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!

WOMAN

(To Parrot)

You are some kind of wonderful. I love you; I really do.

Fire RAGES.

House burns down.

BOY exits.

Creeping Hard

Cast of Characters

Candace: Early 30’s. Anxious. Overprotective. Haunted by the past.

Girl: (Young Candace, played by same actress) 11 years old. Naïve, vulnerable, and eager to please.

Nicole: Candace’s 15-year-old daughter. Bright, sensitive, and inquisitive.

Man: early 40s. Charismatic, sleezy.

Note: Scenes between MAN and GIRL should be played with the MAN behind a screen so that only his shadow shows, adding to the creepiness.

Time

Fourth of July, sunset

Place

A public park

Fourth of July. Early evening. CANDACE and NICOLE sitting on a blanket in a park in a small town waiting for the fireworks to begin. Mother unpacks picnic foods. Nicole points and reads aloud from a newspaper article

NICOLE

Mom, look. Look!

CANDACE

What?

NICOLE

Where that concession stand is! Get up, look! Where the entrance to the carnival used to be. It’s almost exactly like the picture in the article. That was where the sunset rapist was last seen.

(Candace spills the potato salad)

NICOLE (Cont’d)

On July 4th. That’s what it says. They caught him, finally, in Waynesville. Wow, I can’t wait to tell my teacher.

CANDACE

The carnival wasn’t, it wasn’t, it’s not. Why do you know all that? Sit down.

NICOLE

It’s for my summer assignment, “Write about an historical event in your town.”

CANDACE

Help me with the potato salad. And just . . .just . . .leave it alone.

NICOLE

Mom, chill. Watch it! You’re spilling the iced tea all over the watermelon.

CANDACE

Historical? God what’s next? Just sit down and look at the sky, the lights -

NICOLE

What? Hey! Don’t use my sweatshirt! Use a napkin.

CANDACE

I thought it was . . .sorry. Stop talking so fast you’re making me nervous.

NICOLE

He snatched his victims at sunset. No one knows exactly what happened at the carnival that night or with whom. It is a mystery. I love mysteries. Know what other mystery I solved?

CANDACE

No. And I don’t want to know. Why do you care? What does anyone really know?

NICOLE

A cotton candy vendor named Mitch Shoemaker recognized him. He’s dead now so I can’t interview him, too bad.

CANDACE

Who’s dead?

NICOLE

I’m going to be an investigative TV news reporter. Like Diane Sawyer, or that guy on Dateline. Uck, I hate pickles in potato salad. Why do you do that?

CANDACE

Who’s dead?

NICOLE

The Sunset Rapist. He died from melanoma, its common to people with Nordic backgrounds. You know I hate pickles!

MOTHER

Pretend it doesn’t have pickles. Nordic? Who have you been talking to?

NICOLE

Uh, online? Snatching his victims at sunset was part of what they called his “pattern.”

CANDACE

Well, you can be sure nothing like that is ever going to happen to you. I’ve got my eye on you.

NICOLE

Don’t remind me.

CANDACE

You should thank your lucky stars you have someone watching over you!

NICOLE

It says his victim was very young.

CANDACE

God. STOP already. Tell me about your new soccer coach. Tell me what you’re learning in, oh I don’t know, Home Economics class?

NICOLE

Home economics? I think you’re in another one of your time warps.

CANDACE

Oh, knock it off - just tell me about – anything else.

NICOLE

He was a real smooth talker and very handsome. You grew up here. You probably went to the carnival yourself?

(Nicole puts a pretend microphone in front of her mother’s mouth)

NICOLE (Cont’d)

Excuse me Ma’am, can you tell anything about that night?

CANDACE

I don’t . . .

NICOLE

Were you at the Carnival that night?

CANDACE

Yes. Everyone went to the Carnival.

NICOLE

What do you remember?

CANDACE

Nothing. It happened so fast, and I was so young. There’s nothing about it I want to remember. So, I don’t. Remember, anything. No more questions.

NICOLE

I see. Hmm, next question. They shut the carnival down and made this into a park? Did it have anything to do with this Sunset rapist? Do you know what became of his victim? Can you tell me anything?

Pause

Earth to mother?

CANDACE

Hand me my sweater.

NICOLE

It’s a thousand degrees out.

CANDACE

I’m cold. Hand me my sweater.

NICOLE

Excuse me Ma’am, just one more question: He was said to have taken up residence here one month prior to the Carnival. Did you or anyone you know have contact with him?

Pause

CANDACE

Why did you beg me to come here to watch the fireworks instead of us going to the lake? Was it just for your assignment?

Blackout

Scene Two

Shouts, laughter, and tinny, rinky-dink music from the carnival is heard. A gangly GIRL in a yellow and white check dress and carrying a small stuffed owl. From the shadows a man wearing a suit and black hat leans on his cane. He looks at his reflection in his silver flask and straightens his tie. He sings.

MAN

Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes . . .I'll tell you young lady you're looking mighty fanciful this warm evening. How's about a try of my elixir?

GIRL

I'm not sure what that means?

MAN

An elixir is, well, it's sort of like strawberry mousse, except tastier. Here, try it.

(The MAN extends the flask out to her. It catches the light from the concession stand, and flashes into the GIRL'S eyes. She takes a step forward)

GIRL

I don't know. I probably should get back. I’m supposed to meet my mother. She’s on the Teacup Ride. I only came this way because I thought it’d be faster.

(The GIRL turns to go)

MAN

You know I was going to call you.

(The GIRL turns back)

GIRL

What?

MAN

You're late.

GIRL

What are you talking about Mister?

MAN

I was going to call you. Don't you know? Well, jiggers me special. I spoiled the surprise. I just opened my big ole mouth and gone and spoiled it all.

GIRL

Spoiled what surprise? I don't even know who you are. You sound like that man who came round today giving away those goofy pamphlets.

MAN

Well, now, I think you’re mistaking me for some other bright fellow. And that’s OK.

(The GIRL hesitates before turning and walking away)

MAN

WAIT! France - France is where I found this. Yup, I picked this elixir up in France.

(The GIRL turns back)

GIRL

You've been to France?

MAN

Parlez-vous me?

GIRL

Wow, Mister, that's. I don't know…

MAN

That’s very French is what it is! Come closer so I can show you.

(The GIRL steps closer)

GIRL

Why don't you slap those gnats away from your face? Just slap em' away like…

MAN

You're every bit as sweet as anyone could have imagined. Here, take a sip.

(The MAN crouches down and extends the flask out to meet her height)

GIRL

Wow! Your eyes! They’re different colors! One’s blue and the other’s green!

MAN

That’s cause I’m lucky! Can you keep a secret?

GIRL

People who keep secrets end up getting fished out of ponds.

MAN

Who told you that?

GIRL

Everyone knows that.

MAN

Oh sure, sure, 'Little Miss'. My Petite Filigree. That's French from France you know.

(The Girl giggles)

GIRL

No one’s ever called me anything but Candace. My name is Candace.

MAN

Downright startling, that's what you are.

GIRL

What are doing with that handkerchief?

(The Man shakes his soiled handkerchief out theatrically. He makes hand shadow puppets against the tent. His right hand is being chased by his left hand; a barking dog)

MAN

Ruff Ruff Ruff.

(The Man’s left hand is a cat running up a tree)

MAN

MEW MEW MEEEEOW.

GIRL

Wow. That’s really good. Can you do it again?

MAN

I can do rabbit and a sheep and even a monkey! Anything to see you smile.

GIRL

I don't have any cavities.

MAN

I'm going to call you 'Little Doll'.

Blackout

Scene Three

Back to present. Lights up on Mother and Nicole in the park.

NICOLE

Creeping hard.

CANDACE

What on earth does that mean?

NICOLE

It’s someone who stares at people, watches them intensely – looks but doesn’t engage - it’s just short of stalking. If I want to be a good reporter, I have to get better at that. That man over there grilling, I wonder where he lives, what does he do for a living, where does he go when he isn’t grilling?

CANDACE

I just assume not know anything about anyone. Life is hard enough. I don’t know where you get your curiosity from – not from me that’s for sure.

NICOLE

I didn’t get your eyes either. One blue, one green!

CANDACE

It’s lucky.

NICOLE

Don’t hate me.

CANDACE

You?

NICOLE

I see the way you sometimes look at me.

CANDACE

I’m just . . . admiring them, that’s all. How many more minutes until the sun sets?

NICOLE

I’ll tell you only if you tell me this: According to the newspapers the sunset rapist had -

CANDACE

This isn’t a game ok. DROP IT. OK, just, drop it.

NICOLE

You want me to get a good grade, don’t you? Why are you getting so squirrl-y? Grandma says you were a talented dancer what happened?

CANDACE

All mothers say that about their children. It doesn’t mean anything.

NICOLE

Thanks a lot.

CANDACE

I meant what I said about you. You don’t have to believe me; all your teachers say it: A prodigy!

NICOLE

No one taught me how to play the violin.

CANDACE

I know. It is a gift.

NICOLE

From God? Ohhhhh, soooo mysterious. It had to have come from somewhere. From someone. Or maybe I’m just “lucky?” If I trace it back, what will I find?

CANDACE

Why do you care? I don’t know where these things come from. It doesn’t matter. Why? Why? Why? Why are you asking so many questions?

NICOLE

I loveLoveLOVE solving mysteries.

Blackout

Scene Four

The past. Lights up on Carnival. MAN serenades GIRL

MAN

You never looked so fine, Hey there – YOU with the stars in your eyes. Candace, the way you twirl is stunning. Come closer and do that twirl again.

GIRL

Can I show you the rest of my routine?

MAN

Well now, I'm not so sure. What do I get if I let you do your routine for me?

GIRL

Umm . . .I don't know. No one’s ever asked me that before.

MAN

Ha-ha. There’s never a bad time to learn something new. Nobody gives something to somebody else, without getting something back.

GIRL

But I'm showing you, my routine.

MAN

Pardone-ai moi. It’s my fault. I’m not explaining it correctly. I'm letting you, and I expect something back. If I don't letyou, then you can't do your routine. I'll just wait here for someone else's routine. Someone who is willing to give me something back.

(The GIRL is confounded with the new information. She ignores it)

GIRL

This is my routine.

(The GIRL does an enthusiastic routine. The MAN takes a swig from his flask as he watches. She wraps up her routine with a spin, and a studied 'poster girl' pose)

GIRL

What do you think Mister? Do you think I could be famous one day?

MAN

That was terrific! Brava! You are a true artist. But, hmh.Uh oh.

GIRL

Uh oh, what?

MAN

There's a girl in France who can do more tricks than you.

GIRL

That’s not very nice.

MAN

You’re right. I’m sorry Candace. I know! We can go to France together and I can show you those tricks! I'll make you famous. My father was famous. I am famous and now you will be famous. You like that?

GIRL

France? I would love that!

MAN

It's lucky we found each other. Come along then! Follow me.

GIRL

But Mister, you're way back in the dark!

(The GIRL is almost all the way into his shadowy area. There is one last flash of light from the sun setting)

MAN

That’s right, keep coming.

Blackout

Scene Five

Present. Lights up on Candace and Nicole in the Park.

CANDACE

It’s so buggy. What time is it?

NICOLE

The sun sets in two minutes.

CANDACE

I hate this time of day.

NICOLE

I love it. It’s so dramatic. I found it! Here, it says his name was Nick Masters.

CANDACE

Whose name?

NICOLE

That rapist guy. Hey, whoa, he really was handsome. He looks like Brad Pitt!

CANDACE

That’s disgusting.

NICOLE

What? Brad Pitt’s hot.

CANDACE

It’s sick. You dragged me here to watch the fireworks can’t we just do that?

NICOLE

Sick? It’s a compliment. It’s not dark enough yet, the stars aren’t even out.

CANDACE

Do your assignment at home. No one cares about that anyway. You’re really . . .

NICOLE

Really what?

CANDACE

Wiping me out.

NICOLE

I care about it. Just a few more questions: As a mother and resident of this town how would you feel if there was a rapist still on the loose?

CANDACE

I’d kill him.

NICOLE

Mom, you can’t say stuff like that to the press.

CANDACE

Why not? It feels good to say it. And you’re not the press.

NICOLE

I could be. One day.

CANDACE

Whatever happened to a person’s privacy?

NICOLE

Nothings private anymore. The good and bad thing about the Internet is that you can find out everything. Birth certificates, death certificates, hospital records, police records. I can find out everything that happened that night and with whom. Everything.

CANDACE

IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

NICOLE

Why are you getting so freaked out?

CANDACE

We’re never coming back here again. Let’s go.

NICOLE

God! What is the big deal?

CANDACE

How would you feel if -

NICOLE

If what?

CANDACE

Nothing.

NICOLE

Anything anyone wants to know about me is on my Facebook page.

CANDACE

I don’t know why I let you talk me into coming here tonight.

NICOLE

Because you love me! One last question: Abortion is illegal in the state of Kansas, no matter what the circumstance, do you believe a teenager should -

CANDACE

STOP IT. Look, it’s taken me a long time to realize it but there are some things in life that you have no choice about. That’s all there is to it. It’s not my fault. It’s not Gramma’s fault. It’s nobody’s fault.

NICOLE

WHAT–ever! His family emigrated from Finland and settled in Wisconsin. His father was a salmon fisher who became one of the most famous violinists in the country before he died from TB. His mother died in a mental institution, and he was put up for adoption. I kind of feel sorry for him.

CANDACE

How dare you say that!

NICOLE

What? Relax! It’s just an article. I’m just reading.

CANDACE

Well, just stop it. Read to yourself. I don’t want to hear anymore. How many more times do I have to say that? I think I’ve had enough of this. I’m sure the fireworks are just as good if we watch them in the backyard.

NICOLE

Doesn’t seem like someone like that would even have a mother and a father.

CANDACE

Spawned from the devil.

NICOLE

Oh, here we go. This is good. He spent most of his life in foster homes and had frequent “run-ins” with the law. Apparently, his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps. He probably would have been happy with anything except what he became.

CANDACE

Shocking!

NICOLE

A famous Mesmerist.

CANDACE

A what?

NICOLE

Yup. Self-taught. He was famous in France. His act was called: “The Human Lighthouse Sees It All”. What made him stand out were his eyes. One was blue and the other one was . . .violet?

CANDACE

No, it was green.

NICOLE

Right.

Pause

CANDACE

Uch. This is exhausting.

NICOLE

That detail about the color of his eyes could only be known by one of three people, two of which are now dead. The only way you could know that was - Mom?

Pause

CANDACE

Come on, help me pack up. We can watch the fireworks from the backyard.

(Candace quickly packs things up)

CANDACE (Cont’d)

Next year we are going to go to the lake.

(Nicole stands quietly)

CANDACE (Cont’d)

Are you just going to stand there? Help me!

(Nicole helps Candace pack up the remains of the picnic. As they silently but thoughtfully pack their things up)

Fireworks BOOM

Red, White, and Blue, lights sparkle in the distance.

Black out

Act Normal

Characters:

Daschle: 15 yrs. old. Smart with a sadistic streak. Two minutes older than Gabe.

Gabe: 15 yrs. Old. Two minutes younger than Daschle. Sweet, vulnerable, and overly dependent on Daschle. Stutters under stress.

Mrs. Doherty: 40s. Housekeeper with spunk.

Jenny: 16. Insecure, pretends she’s cooler than she is.

Time

Now

Place

A McMansion

GABE and DASCHLE are sitting on a couch in front of MRS. DOHERTY, their tutor who is lying dead on the couch.

GABE

It looks like she’s out. Should we wake her now, before she starts sleepwalking.

DASCHLE

Wait. Just a few minutes more, let the Ambien kick in. I like the quiet. Are you sure you washed the glasses of lemonade?

GABE

Yes. Yes. Yes. Why do you have to ask me like that?

DASCHLE

I’m older than you.

GABE

Two minutes.

DASCHLE

I’m taller.

GABE

One inch.

She looks so different.

Look Gabe, she has a moustache! Like Dad!

DASCHLE

I told Mom on, “Day One,” she was going to be like all the other tutors. Six months later, I am, once again, right.

GABE

But she didn’t listen to you. Not since dad. Not since we moved here.

(Gabe imitates their mother’s hysterical voice, and gestures)

GABE (Cont’d)

Oh, my head hurts! I can’t think right now. Get me my medicine . . .

DASCHLE

No one listens to me.

GABE

I do Dasch. I do.

DASCHLE

I know.

GABE

There’s spit coming out of her mouth.

DASCHLE

Dry it off.

GABE

NO WAY.

DASCHLE

OK, just leave it there.

GABE

Screw calculus.

DASCHLE

Screw trigonometry.

GABE

To Hell with tutors.

DASCHLE

To Hell with evil nannies

GABE

Fuck anyone who tries to come between us.

DASCHLE

Let’s have a party!

GABE

I’m going to call the kids next door!

DASCHLE

NO! Just, my god, for once in your life, don’t act on every little impulse, you’re like -

GABE

Jenny?

DASCHLE

Jenny’s our age. I’m talking about the little snots with the stupidest names in the entire world: Peter and Parker.

GABE

You like Jenny. I can tell.

DASCHLE

She’s all right.

(Gabe looks in MRS. DOHERTY’S purse, takes out her wallet)

GABE

Oh my God. She’s someone else. She’s not Mrs. Crabtree. That’s not her name! It says she’s -

DASCHLE

Duh. I just made it up. Besides doesn’t she look like a Crabtree?

GABE

Hah! She does. You are right. Here, her driver’s license says she’s “Leslie Doherty”. Look here’s a picture of her kid, Dasch look.

DASCHLE

Put it away.

GABE

And look Dasch here’s a picture of her dog. It looks like Ranger doesn’t it Dasch, just like Ranger and look, wow, she’s in a wedding dress. Woo-woo. Look at her boobs.

DASCHLE

How many Ambien did you put in?

GABE

I couldn’t find any.

DASCHLE

What? So? What did you put in her lemonade?

(Gabe shows him the bottle)

DASCHLE (Cont’d)

Ant poison!

(Daschle frantically slaps her to wake her up)

DASCHLE (Cont’d)

How much did you put in?

GABE

Just a . . . little.

(Daschle throws water on her)

DASCHLE

Um, she looks -

GABE

Beautiful.

DASCHLE

I don’t see her chest moving at all. I think she’s . . .

(Daschle takes her pulse. Then steps away in disbelief)

DASCHLE (Cont’d)

Ohhhhhhh, you really did it this, time. This is a good one.

GABE

I told you I was good.

DASCHLE

Knucklehead! She’s dead.

GABE

NO!

(Gabe embraces Miss Doherty than falls to the floor)

GABE

Should we call someone? I’m going to call-

(Mrs. Doherty’s hand jerks up, the boys freeze)

GABE (Cont’d)

Holy Moly!

DASCHLE

Shush. What was that? What’s going on?

(The boys go nearer to the body and inspect it)

GABE

She’s still . . .

DASCHLE

That can’t be – I thought you. Then why’s she . . .?

GABE

I don’t know. I’m scared Dasch. I’m so scared.

DASCHLE

Quiet. Just be quiet.

(Mrs. Doherty’s right leg jerk. The boy’s race behind a bookshelf)

GABE

Holy Moly! Dasch, now what are we going to do?

MOTHER (Off-stage)

Boys?

GABE

Mom! She’s home early.

DASCHLE

Shit, shit, shit.

GABE

What are we going to do now Dash?

DASCHLE

We’re going to put this blanket over her and tell Mom she’s taking a nap.

GABE

In the middle of the afternoon?

DASCHLE

We’re going to stick her in that toy chest and tell Mom she went home early.

GABE

It’s so small.

DASCHLE

We’re going to put her in the freezer.

GABE

She’s too big.

DASCHLE

We’ll cut her up.

GABE

Dash!

DASCHLE

So she’ll fit.

GABE

Oh, I dddd…dddon’t know Dash.

DASCHLE

Can you think of something?

(Gabe bangs himself against the walls to get the words out)

GABE

I cccan’t think of anything. Ffffirst we have to . . .

DASCHLE

Stop doing that. Stop talking. Just don’t talk. I always have to look after you. Always.

GABE

I wish Rrrrr …..anger were here.

(Daschle walks in a circle, thinking)

DASCHLE

Just stay here.

Scene Two

A dim light coming from the mother’s bedroom. Daschle stands outside her bedroom. Mother is heard but not seen

DASCHLE

Hi Mom.

MOTHER (Off-stage)

No leave the lights off. My migraine. The light hurts. Everything hurts.

DASCHLE

You’re home early.

MOTHER (Off-stage)

Nancy’s covering for me, the library wasn’t busy. Get me my medicine.

(Daschle races to cabinet and pours a glass of wine and gets her pills. He drops them off and walks out. He stands in the doorframe)

MOTHER (Cont’d)

Thank you darling. You are so good to me.

DASCHLE

I’ll make dinner tonight.

MOTHER

My little man.

DASCHLE

You should rest. Get some sleep. See you in the morning.

MOTHER

I know I know. I’m so tired. I’m so very, very tired. Dasch?

DASCHLE

Yes mom?

MOTHER

I’m sorry.

DASCHLE

Not now Mom.

MOTHER

I am. I am so sorry.

DASCHLE

Mom, not . . .

MOTHER

I should have been a better mother. Dasch?

DASCHLE

What Mom?

MOTHER

Your father didn’t mean to hurt Gabe like he did.

DASCHLE

You keep saying that.

MOTHER

Gabe was just always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

DASCHLE

Please

MOTHER

Your father was a very complicated man.

DASCHLE

Man?

MOTHER

Well . . .

DASCHLE

Are you kidding? He dressed like a woman, he walked like a woman, he talked like a woman . . .

MOTHER

He had a lot of problems.

DASCHLE

He OD’d on pills that gave him boobs! He croaked half a woman. A freak

MOTHER

A lot of things on his mind weren’t straight. He wasn’t a freak, he was a very, very, very confused . . .human being.

DASCHLE

What he did to Gabe was . . .

MOTHER

I know. I know. Gabe’s not strong like you. I tried. You know I tried. Something about Gabe just set him off. They look so much alike.

DASCHLE

Not really. I don’t want to talk about this again.

MOTHER

Dasch, is Mrs. Doherty still here?

DASCHLE

Um . . .

(The doorbell RINGS)

DASCHLE (Cont’d)

I’ll get it. Go to sleep.

(Closes the bedroom door. Lights fade on bedroom)

Scene Three

Lights up on front door. Daschle and Jenny. Awkward pauses.

JENNY

Hey.

DASCHLE

Oh. Hey.

(Gabe enters living room with a wheelbarrow. Dasch is distracted by both Gabe’s and Jenny’s presence)

JENNY

Um. So. Are you just going to stand there?

DASCHLE

You’re so . . .

JENNY

Hot.

DASCHLE

Uh huh.

(While Dasch is talking Gabe picks up Miss Doherty, places her in the wheelbarrow and wheels her out of the living room)

J

JENNY

You’re all sweaty.

DASCHLE

I was….um…lifting weights.

JENNY

Cool.

DASCHLE

Um….

JENNY

I’m selling Girl Scout cookies.

DASCHLE

Aren’t you too old for that?

JENNY

I’m helping my little sister Maya. She’s too shy.

DASCHLE

Then why is she a Girl Scout?

JENNY

To get her to not be shy. Whatever. Do you want some or not?

DASCHLE

Yeah, Mom likes the thin mints. I’ll take the chocolate wafers and Gabe likes the peanut butter sandwiches. We’ll take six of each.

JENNY

You have to pay now.

DASCHLE

All right hold on.

(Dasch leaves. Jenny scribbles in her notebook)

JENNY

24 boxes! That’s seventy-two dollars!

(Gabe walks up quietly behind Jenny)

JENNY

My God!

GABE

Hi Jenny. Talking to yourself?

JENNY

You scared me.

GABE

Dasch likes you.

JENNY

I know it.

GABE

Can you keep a secret?

JENNY

Sure.

(Daschle comes back with a wad of cas

DASCHLE

What the? How did you get here? What did you do with?

GABE

Crawled out the basement window. Walked around. I fixed it Dasch. I totally fixed it. Just like you said.

DASCHLE

What did you do?

GABE

She’s out front in the garbage waiting for pick-up.

JENNY

What’s going on?

DASCHLE

NOTHING.

(Daschle goes to window and looks out)

DASCHLE (Cont’d)

You’re crazy.

GABE

See, you’d never know. The bag of leaves on top of her is a good touch. I did good Dasch.

DASCHLE

Actually, yeah, not bad. That does look good. Actually. OK. Now, let me think.

GABE

Dasch. I’m looking after things, just like you.

DASCHLE

LET ME THINK.

JENNY

Hey, is your mom here?

DASCHLE

She’s in there, but she’s out until at least ten or eleven tonight.

JENNY

That’s cool. Want to make out . . . and stuff?

DASCHLE

Uh. Yeah.

JENNY

We could go to your room. I have the new Niki Minage video on my Iphone.

DASCHLE

Um . . .

JENNY

And some strawberry crème . . .

DASCHLE

Wow.

JENNY

Or we can just do it here. Gabe don’t you have something outside you want to cover with leaves or something.

GABE

Jenny you can leave now.

DASCHLE

No Jenny, you can stay.

GABE

It’s just you and me Dasch. Just you and me. Tell her to leave.

DASCHLE

It’s always you and me, now, for right now, for one half hour, it’s me and Jenny.

GABE

Bbbb . . .bbb . …ut why Dasch?

JENNY

What is up with him? Is this going to be cool or what?

DASCHLE

Yeah, totally. Totally cool. Just go to my room. I’ll deal with him. I’ll be right there.

(Lights fade on boys. Lights go up on Jenny as she speaks into her Iphone)

JENNY

Of course, I’m going to do it. Next time we play, I’m going to DARE you to do his freak brother. Fuck it. YOLO. Look it I’ve given blowjobs like six million times before. Six. Million. Um . . .my cousin. And . . .um . . .the guy who works at the pool. And . . . What? I’m not, it’s true. Don’t text me during it. I KNOW WHAT TO DO. I’ve seen it on – I mean, I’ve done… Ugh. Forget it. You’re such a bitch.

No, you’re the one who can’t . . .yeah, screw you too. Don’t txt me. Let me do this. Pictures? No, I’m not going to take pictures. All right. I’ll just leave it on video. I’ll give you proof. YOLO.

(Lights go down on Jenny. Lights go up on boys)

DASCHLE

For ONCE can you just stop needing me to figure everything out for you?

GABE

Dasch, why can’t you stay with me? Why Dasch?

JENNY (Off-stage)

Are you coming?

GABE

You like her better than me.

DASCHLE

NO. Look, Jenny and I are going to, you know -

GABE

Why can’t I do stuff with you guys?

DASCHLE

BECAUSE. That’s why.

GABE

Don’t yell at me Dasch.

JENNY (Off-Stage)

I’m naked.

GABE

Uh oh. Something bad is going to happen.

DASCHLE

Something GREAT is going to happen.

GABE

No Dasch, don’t go in there, something very, very bad is going to happen.

DASCHLE

You’re crazy. No. Look, Gabe, just go outside and if for some fucked-up reason the garbage men come, just, just. Well, just come and get me. Here, take my watch, at five o’clock you can come back.

(Dasch tries to push Gabe out the door)

JENNY (Off-Stage)

Yoo-Hoo! Daschy

GABE

If you go in there with her, I’m going to tell everyone about Mrs. Crabtree.

DASCHLE

What are you going to tell?

GABE

That it was you who did it.

(Daschle lunges at Gabe’s neck the two of them wrestle)

DASCHLE

I hate you. I hate you I hate you.

GABE

I love you Dasch. I love you.

(Jenny throws her bra out from the boy’s bedroom. It lands on Gabe’s head)

GABE (Cont’d)

AHHHHH.

DASCHLE

I’ll be RIGHT THERE.

(To GABE)

DASCHLE (Cont’d)

If you tell I AM NEVER TALKING TO YOU AGAIN FOR MY ENTIRE LIFE.

GABE

No Dasch.

DASCHLE

NEVER AGAIN. No more talks at night. No more games. No more pranks. No more movies. NOTHING. Got that?

GABE

No Dasch. Please.

DASCHLE

I will. You are going to live all alone and then you’ll die all alone.

GABE

Dasch, don’t be so mean.

DASCHLE

Do you want that?

GABE

No Dasch, no.

JENNY

I’m WAITING!

DASCHLE

Then do EXACTLY what I told you to do.

GABE

And then what?

DASCHLE

I’ll make us all some dinner. Sloppy Joe’s

GABE

Yum. Then what?

DASCHLE

UGH!

GABE

Will you talk to me? Will you stop hating me?

DASCHLE

Yes. Now go. And Gabe -

GABE

Yeah Dasch?

DASCHLE

Just, just try and act normal.

Black Out

Scene Four

Lights up on GABE. He is sitting on a lawn chair by the garbage cans at the end of their driveway. Sitting next to him in another lawn chair is Mrs. Doherty. She is wearing her blue dress. Her hair is cut like a man’s. She has a moustache and beard drawn on her face. Her legs are crossed.

GABE

You don’t have to talk Dad. I know what you want to say without your even having to say it. What’s that you say? Yeah, I know. I am a good boy. I do everything you tell me to do.

THE END