George Tomorrow

A battery-powered monkey wearing Santa boxers dances in the middle of the room to some sort of hiphop song. George stands to imitate it for his grandchildren. They laugh as Simone watches. She is so pleased. When it stops, she plays it again eagerly. Pressed by the kids, George does the dance again—but this time he’s tired, and we can tell that it won’t go on forever, and that’s heartbreaking.

Short Scripted End of the Year Holiday Party

Because the martini glass was not already precarious enough.

Tomorrow I will post my fifty-second scene of the year. Some if not all are fine examples of bad dramatic writing. But just so you know, that’s only because I wrote, like, all of them in, like, ten minutes (hair toss).

I launched this project in order to introduce routine and accountability into my writing life, and it fulfilled its role of being a royal pain in the ass for much of the year. But a pain in the arse turned out to be a great way to churn out some stage-talkin’—for better or worse—and for that, I am glad I committed to the blog. And I’m glad the blog hung over my head like a yearlong morning after three martinis. Made with well gin.

This portfolio of scenes contains a lot of failed ideas but it also contains, I hope, a few starts that, with some time and attention, could sprout into happy little actual plays with something to say. To borrow words from Raymond Carver, I wanted to “get up early one morning, at least/And go to my place with some coffee and wait/Just wait, to see what’s going to happen.” I wanted to commit to a year’s worth of weekly scenes to see what happened. And here we are; it happened.  

I don’t plan to continue adding (at least as) regularly to Short Scripted in 2012. I’m going to take on a more enlightened goal like abs of steel or eating out less. Just kidding, of course. Given that the end of the world is scheduled for May 2011 October 2011 next May, I’ll be maxing out my final days by friending everyone I can on Facebook so I can say I went out with as many relationships as possible.

Thank you to those of you who visited my quirky array of characters and me over the course of the past year. It’s been fun.

Mary

George Now

GEORGE (Simone’s husband, late 70s)

SIMONE (late 70s)

George sits in front of a square panel of light, doing nothing. He just sits. Simone enters.

SIMONE

It’s so quiet I thought you must’ve fallen asleep and knocked the thing over.

GEORGE

Alive and alert, for better or worse.

SIMONE

What are you doing?

GEORGE

What does it look like—what you told me! No more, no less.

SIMONE

You can do more. Just don’t do less.

GEORGE

What am I gonna do. Gotta face the damn light.

SIMONE

Want the crossword?

(George grunts. She slides a portion of the newspaper in front of him.)

SIMONE

Want to listen to some hymns?

GEORGE

God, no.

SIMONE

I could read to you.

(When he doesn’t respond, she fetches the Bible off a shelf and begins to read.)

SIMONE

(reading)

They went to Capernaum, and when the Sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching—

(George grunts loudly.)

SIMONE

It’s Mark. You prefer something else?

GEORGE

Nahum.

SIMONE

Don’t be a smartass. You want Old Testament, let’s hear from Isaiah. (Beginning to read a page she has quickly locates) But there will be no gloom for those who are in anguish—

GEORGE

How much longer.

SIMONE

Twelve minutes.

(George grunts. Simone continues reading as the light fades.)

SIMONE

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness, on them light as shined...

George at 50

GEORGE (50)

CLIFF (16)

GEORGE

You love her?

CLIFF

I’m not old enough to love.

GEORGE

Sure you are.

CLIFF

How do I know then?

GEORGE

You think about her a lot?

(Cliff nods.)

GEORGE

You want to treat her right? Make her happy?

(Cliff nods.)

GEORGE

That’s about it.

CLIFF

I thought it was more than that.

GEORGE

Nah.

CLIFF

I guess I love her then.

GEORGE

Okay.

CLIFF

So I can go?

GEORGE

Yes.

CLIFF

Do I have to ask mom?

GEORGE

She’s in agreement.

CLIFF

Thanks, dad.

GEORGE

You see how I treat your mom?

CLIFF

Yes sir.

GEORGE

I respect her.

(Cliff nods.)

GEORGE

You do no less.

CLIFF

No more no less. Got it.

GEORGE

More is fine. No less.

Sisters

DANA (17)

WILLOW (20)

Dana enters carrying several shopping bags, her purse, and a garment bag. She throws down the purse and garment bag and pulls a shoebox out of one of them. She opens it and ceremoniously takes out a pair of bright red patent leather shoes. She puts them on a chair so they’re resting side by side. She takes a moment to gaze at them, giddy. We hear a door open. She runs over and throws a blanket over them, taking care to make it look like just a wadded blanket. Willow enters.

WILLOW

Did you get it?

(Without pausing, Willow walks over to one of the bags and removes a box the size of a pie. She exits. While she’s gone, Dana peaks at the shoes again quickly. Willow returns with the box.)

WILLOW

I just realized we can’t do derby. We can’t take derby pie. Shit.

DANA

She always takes derby.

WILLOW

She always took derby and pretended she made it. If we take it now, we’ll expose her.

DANA

(realizing this is true)

Maybe it’s like…

WILLOW

She made it before? It’s a week old? No, Dana.

DANA

What do you want me to do? I could go back to Cedar’s…

WILLOW

(looking her watch)

No time. Just… mix it up and re-bake it.

DANA

I’ll bake something.

WILLOW

There isn’t time—

DANA

You should’ve just let me bake something to start.

WILLOW

We needed you to run errands, we don’t have time for you to bake from scratch. Today is not about you.

DANA

It won’t take that long.

WILLOW

Throw in some lemon or something.

DANA

That’ll be nasty.

WILLOW

Well, it’s better than making mom look bad now is it not? Is it not better than making mom look bad now? Think about someone else, please.

DANA

Let’s just say we forgot.

WILLOW

We’ll say it’s stale. She made it last week. No one eats pie at a wake anyway.

DANA

It won’t taste stale.

WILLOW

When you tell people something is stale, they taste stale.

(Dana doesn’t.)

DANA

Also it’s going to make dad sad.

(They both stare at the pie for a moment.)

DANA

(standing)

I’m going to make one.

WILLOW

(shoving the pie at Dana)

Put lemon in it and heat it up.

(Dana takes the pie and begins to exit as Willow keeps talking. Willow meanwhile opens the garment bag—it’s dry cleaning—and approves of the black dress hanging inside. She lifts the blanket, exposing the shoes.)

WILLOW

We need to see if Aunt Wren has a ride. You call her please, and I’ll call grandma to make sure she’s good—(unveiling the shoes)—Are you kidding me?

DANA

(stops)

I needed some shoes.

WILLOW

You are unbelievable.

DANA

You needed your dress cleaned, I needed shoes.

WILLOW

You have shoes.

DANA

I’m going to make the pie.

WILLOW

You’re not wearing these.

DANA

I’m going to make the pie.

(Dana exits.)

Us

Lowimpactbetty.com

A woman lies face down on the floor of a home kitchen. A man steps over her to make himself a grilled cheese sandwich. Then he sits at a kitchen table. He eats half the sandwich then walks over to hold the other half in front of her face. She doesn’t respond. There is a small crash offstage. We hear a small dog barking and the sound of paper tearing.

MAN

(exiting the room)

GYRO!

(The man re-enters holding a stack of mail, some of which is shredded at the edges. He flips through the first few pieces then tosses it on the table without opening any. There is a knock at the door. The man takes a bite of the second half of the grilled cheese then exits the room again. We hear him offstage speaking to the guest.)

VOICE

Afternoon, Mr. Clark. Don’t know if you saw, I gave you the Harrisons’ mail on mistake.

MAN
(offstage)

Hey Victor. No worries (entering with a fresh stack of mail in his hand, yelling over his shoulder), let me just grab it—(he exchanges the Clark’s mail for the Harrison’s mail and exits, but snatches another bite of the sandwich first)

MAN

—Gyro took a bite outta their electric bill.

VOICE

Would he take a bite out of mine? Have a good one.

MAN

Take care, Victor.

(Sound of the door closing. The man re-enters and sits at the table. He begins leafing through the mail. As he does…)

MAN

Just can’t obey. (Beat.) Why should I think it’ll ever stop? (Beat.) You been that way since—

WOMAN

Don’t be mean to gyro.

MAN

He got at the Harrison’s mail, you hear that?

(She doesn’t respond.)

MAN

(unclear whether to her or to himself—we get the sense he speaks to himself often) Gas. What are you, what are you. (He opens it.) 66.71. Cable. America’s Thieves and Thugs. (Beat, then to her) That’s AT&T. Credit card application. Invitation to your niece’s wedding.

WOMAN

Yours too.

MAN

Ours.

WOMAN

That all?

MAN

Yes ma’am. Alright, time to get up.

WOMAN

It’s not 2:00 yet.

MAN

You’re right. It’s 2:37. Victor came late today.

(He walks over to her. She groans. He reaches to pull her up.)

MAN

Let’s go.

Play Around

ANNOUNCER

Welcome, gents and gals and others. Wiggle those bottoms snugly into your seats and saddle up for the ride, because the play is about to begin. Don’t worry—there will be no audience participation in this production. You are safe! For this particular show at least! You can even sleep if you like! Just don’t snore! Now, let’s get started. Introducing… the characters of this here play. Ah, there he is, the one who lives for outcomes.

THE ONE WHO LIVES FOR OUTCOMES

(entering)

I am the one who lives for outcomes.

ANNOUNCER

And here comes the one who has learned grace.

THE ONE WHO HAS LEARNED GRACE

(entering)

I am the one who has learned grace.

ANNOUNCER

Who’s next?

THE ONE WHO SEES IN BLACK AND WHITE

(entering)

I see things in black and white.

ANNOUNCER

Yes, thank you. Hello to you, the one who sees in black and white.

THE ONE WHO SEES IN BLACK AND WHITE

Hello.

ANNOUNCER

And here comes Ms. Navy.

THE ONE WHO SEES NAVY

I see everything in navy.

ANNOUNCER

But never black!

THE ONE WHO SEES NAVY

Never black.

ANNOUNCER

Ah, and the life of every party, the one who is ashamed.

THE ONE WHO IS ASHAMED.

I am ashamed.

ANNOUNCER

Who’s left? The secret. (Beat.) The secret. (Beat.) THE SECRET.

THE SECRET

(stumbling out)

Sorry. Hi.

ANNOUNCER

Introduce yourself please.

THE SECRET

I’m the secret.

ANNOUNCER

Punctuality is a virtue, friends! Remember that. Thank you all! You may now leave the stage.

(All but The Secret leave the stage. The Secret takes a stool in the back and sits quietly.)

ANNOUNCER

Are we ready to begin? (Beat) I can’t hear you! I said, are we ready to begin? (Waits for some sound from the audience) Alright then. Let’s begin!

(The sound of many unintelligible voices blending begins as a murmur then builds into loud white noise as the theater darkens. It stops abruptly. A single match is lit. It goes out. It’s lit again. It goes out. The third time, the match catches on the messy stack of pages being lit and bursts into a flame. Behind it, we see the face of The One Who Is Ashamed watching it glow.)

A Day Away

A woman sits on a sofa, staring into space. Maybe she’s watching TV. Or at least it’s on. There is nothing more.

MAN’S VOICE

(offstage, amplified)

Tomorrow will be better.

It always is tomorrow.

But today her lungs are like beached seals.

(The woman lets out a small cough.)

MAN’S VOICE

Or sandbags

Slumped against the food she hasn’t eaten,

The coffee and cigarettes.

(She reaches for a box of cigarettes and discovers it’s empty. She drops it easily.)

WOMAN’S VOICE

(offstage)

I swallow too much.

MAN’S VOICE

Or sandbags. Today, she is here.

WOMAN’S VOICE

(overlapping)

Today coats her teeth

like pennies or pickles.

Tomorrow has no taste.

Like eternity. Like God.

Tomorrow will come

and bring something. Space.

What a lovely idea.

WOMAN

(to herself)

What a lovely idea.

The Children's Crusade

A video montage of children.

ASIAN KID

This… I believe.

HISPANIC KID

This I believe.

WHITE KID

This I believe.

BLACK KID

I believe the monkey’s in the middle.

_________ KID

I believe in duck, duck goose.

_________ KID

I believe in ring around the rosie.

_________ KID

I believe in putting your whole self in.

_________ KID

And you turn yourself around.

_________ KID

You turn yourself around.

_________ KID

You turn yourself around.

_________ KID

I believe that’s what it’s all about.

_________ KID

About.

_________ KID

About.

VOICEOVER

3 out of 5 children will grow up. Join the campaign. Fight growing up.

KIDS

THIS WE BELIEVE! 

Halloweenie

CHLOE

GUY

CHLOE
(reading dryly from a piece of paper)

Sexy banana, sexy Sponge Bob, sexy Christopher Walken, Reece Witherspoon.

GUY

(absently while doing something else—playing a video game or something)

Sexy Reece Witherspoon.

CHLOE

Not sexy Reece Witherspoon. Just Reece Witherspoon.

GUY

Guess she’s already sexy.

CHLOE

(unreasonably frustrated)

If I’m Reece Witherspoon, that’s the joke. I’m Reece Witherspoon. There is no sexy.

GUY

I don’t get it.

CHLOE

PEOPLE SAY WHO ARE YOU AND I SAY REECE WITHERSPOON. Because I kind of look like her.

(He raises his eyebrows.)

CHLOE

(making a decision to disregard this)

Halibut, shark, half halibut, half shark—like one half of me is the halibut—ahh! (frightened scream)—and the other half is the shark—doodoodoo…

GUY

I like it but how does it work.

CHLOE

Yeah.

GUY

I could be the shark.

CHLOE

Can’t do couple costumes. Sexy jelly bean, sexy Justice Scalia, sexy Justice Sotomayor, sexy Justice Souter.

GUY

Who is Justice Souter?

CHLOE

Exactly! (She laughs; he doesn’t. She continues.) Angry Asian. Happy Asian. Sad Asian. Wait, wait. Yes. YES, I think that’s my favorite! Angry Asian.

GUY

No.

CHLOE

I draw the eyes like… It’s not racist. It’s fact.

GUY

No.

CHLOE

It’s not like I’m like binding my feet.

GUY

Do you hear yourself?

CHLOE

How is it different than if I’m just a Mexican or something!

GUY

IT’S NOT. IT IS JUST LIKE THAT.

CHLOE

Oh my god. Oh my god.

GUY

Just pick something else. My vote is sexy banana.

CHLOE

Am I breaking out in hives?

GUY

What is your problem?

CHLOE

I hate it. I’m not going.

GUY

Go with your instinct.

CHLOE

My instinct is racist. RACIST IS FUNNY.

GUY

Don’t go with your insinct.

CHLOE

(furious)

I’m SO mad at you. (Beat. He doesn’t seem to mind.) WHAT DO I DO?

GUY

Sexy banana. It’s sexy. It’s delicious. It’s yellow. It’s perfect.

CHLOE

I don’t know.

GUY

All done.

CHLOE

Angry Asian is funnier.

GUY

BE SEXY BANANA.

CHLOE

(after a beat)

What are you going as?

GUY

Thinking maybe peanut butter. Horny peanut butter. But not as a couple. I don’t do couple costumes. I’ve just always wanted to be horny. Peanut butter…

The History of the End of the World

HISTORIAN

(lecturing with slides of images)

In the wake of the Great Disaster of 2012, the few humans that remained were forced to rebuild their lives from scratch. The archeological record is virtually empty for the period before GD 2012. The few tools that did survive can tell us much about how our ancestors lived.

We see that they lacked comparable intelligence to today, as exemplified by these. (IMAGE ON SCREEN: Kim Kardashian's Tone Ups.) Ever at the mercy of nearby predators, who could outwit the human any day of the week, it appears this footwear was designed to facilitate quick escape. But the ill-informed design reveals the simple nature of the pre-2012 mind. (IMAGE ON SCREEN: Interactive slide of a dread—the image spins into many dreads, then is braided.) Our predecessors used human hair to construct sturdy means of rapid ascent and descent from tall heights, lest they wait in vain for their impending deaths.

And yet, at the same time, pre-2012 humans were brutish. (IMAGE ON SCREEN: Shake Weight.) Here, we have a tool clearly designed for beating. I will spare you a graphic description of what such beatings may have entailed, but I’m confident you can insert the seminal components.

Interestingly, (IMAGE ON SCREEN: Pair of men's skinny jeans) these were found in abundance in one confined area just east of the Island of Hattanman. The garment, designed for males, appears to have been rapidly shed en masse by those wearing it prior to their destruction. Theories abound as to why, but the most convincing of these is that the pants were too tight for the men to run from the looming danger that ultimately annihilated them. Another popular theory is that they were quickly shed for panicked intercourse with females, but the problem is that no shed female clothing was found, with the notable exception of several of these—(IMAGE ON SCREEN: A fedora)—most likely used to catch flow during menstrual cycling. It is for this predicted purpose that the second theory does not satisfy me, as intercourse loses its appeal during menstrual flow.

From this assembly of objects, we can infer that our predecessors were a dull-minded, monstrous people in constant fear of predation, and for this reason, quick to inflict physical pain on one another. Indeed, had you been born prior to GD 2012, you might have been subjected to the brutal torture of this device (IMAGE ON SCREEN: A separation stick for the grocery line). No one is sure how it worked, but it was definitely torture. No question it was torture. Torture, torture, torture. Torture.

Bad At Winking: The Last Scene of My Yet To Be Written One Woman Show

To be read aloud on stage by yours truly.

Things I Used To Think

1. I could craft a life out of individual pieces.

2. Love is a feeling.

3. Aghast is pronounced “ag-HAST.”

Assumptions I Used to Hold that I Didn’t Realize Were Governing My Behavior

1. There is a right person and a wrong person in a conflict.

2. Conflicts are about establishing truth.

3. If a certain person likes me enough, it’s okay if I don’t join in that opinion.

4. Everything will work out for me, so I don’t have to try too hard.

Things I Still Think Sometimes But Try Not To

1. What people think matters.

2. I’ll be happy if I XYZ by 123. 

3. There is more to life than relationships.

4. There is more to relationships than their essence.

5. There is more to essence than grace.

What I Suspect

1. Story is everything.

2. The parts of my humanity I dislike most have the most to teach me.

3. Hafiz, Kurt Vonnuget, and Antoine St. Exupery died happy men.

What I Think It’s About

1. Forgiveness.

2. Occasionally quoting Don Henley.

3. Laughing.

4. AS

5. MUCH

6. AS

7. POSSIBLE.