Cast of Characters
DOCTOR MR. JACKSON Lights up in the DOCTOR's office. The Doctor stands in front of an eye chart. MR. JACKSON stands several feet away, with a hand covering one eye. D. Next line, Mr. Jackson. Mr. Jackson squints hard and begins to read. MR J. F...D...P. D. And next line. MR J. Which one? D. The line immediately below the one you just read. MR J. Uh... D. Line four, Mr. Jackson. MR J. Yes, of course. T, G, I, F. D. Hm...And next line. Line five, please. MR J. Let's see here, ah yes. L...R, X, Q...S, K. D. Okay, I've seen enough. Thank you, Mr. Jackson you can go ahead and lower your hand. MR J. Thanks, doc. So when can I be expecting to the clearance to drive again. D. Not anytime soon. Quite frankly, Mr. Jackson, you have just about the worst eyesight I've ever encountered. MR J. Surely that's not true. D. Oh it is Mr. Jackson...quite. MR J. I failed the eye exam? D. With a soaring brilliance unmatched. Not only did you fail to get any line correct, but on line four, you seemed to just blurt out the acronym for "Thank God It's Friday." In line five, you added a letter that didn't even exist in the line. MR J. How can you be certain I added a letter? D. Because you listed six letters. MR J. How many should there have been? D. On line five? MR J. Yes. D. ...Five. Look, Mr. Jackson, I can't, in good conscious, sign off on a re-instated license recommendation, lives are at stake. I can, however, set you up with a pair of prescription lenses, but given the state of your vision and the recent additions to your driving record--- MR J. I was set up, I tell you! D. It says here that you ran thru several stop signs and traffic lights. You took out a mailbox, knocked over a biker-- MR J. He had it coming-- D. And then tried to park your car on a middle school's baseball field. (getting up to leave) I'm going to go get those prescription lenses set up for you. MR J. That was a baseball field? I guess I should've caught on when that pop-fly dented my hood. Everyone kept yelling at me, I thought they were empathizing with me, dents can get spendy to bang out. I should've caught on. D. Well, Mr. Jackson. You may not have 20/20 vision, but your hindsight sure is 20/20. Doctor exits. Black out. END OF PLAY
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Lights up on a game show stage. One half of the stage sits "floating" 10-20 feet in the air. It is painted a brilliant blue color and comprises of floating cloud set pieces, angel wings, halos, and a golden gate. It is made to look like the divine Heavens. Below the Heavens, on the ground level (possibly even below ground), sits Hell, a fiery red with scorched terrain. This set comprises of big burning coal set pieces and a river of "lava" flows across the stage. The background is filled with an endless sea of tortured souls. Two swing harnesses dangle in the center of the stage.
CHEESY GAME SHOW MUSIC. A giant sign, glowing in lights reads 'HEAVEN or HELL" The show host CHIP VAN CANNON enters, dressed in a sequin-adorned jacket, holding his microphone. Studio audience claps. C. (quieting the crowd) Thank you, thank you and welcome back tooo HEAVEN OR HELL, the game show where real-life couples in trouble put their knowledge of each other and ultimately, their relationships to the test. When pitted against each other in a vicious, brutally honest trivia showdown, they must struggle through it together in order to come out on top, but no matter what, in the end, they'll either end in.... CHIP & STUDIO AUDIENCE. HEAVEN OR HELLLLLLL! C. I'm your irresistibly charming host Chip Van Cannon annnd let's get back to the action. Boxing "DING DING" bell sound. C. Now, if you're just joining us, meet Paul and Martha. A married couple in their early thirties come out on stage, putting on their best "I'm pissed but let's just get through this" grins." They wave. C. Paula and Martha have been married....? How many years, Paul? P. Nine years. C. Nine years! Married when, Paul? P. January twenty-second. C. January twenty-second. After that last round, I bet he won't forget that date again will he, Martha? Martha shoots Paul a livid stare. M. For his sake, we hope not, Chip. C. (laughing) All righty. Now, again for those of you just tuning in, welcome welcome to the final round. We've just finished the first round for these two love birds, How Well Do You Know Me, a lightning-fire round, where we ask each spouse questions regarding the likes and dislikes of the other and general relationship info, to ascertain just how well...they really know each other. Now, I'm not gonna not gonna call a dead weed a daisy here, Paul...ya didn't do well that last round. How do you feel? P. (incredulous) Not good, Chip. Not good at all-- C. (chuckling) Fantastic! Well, Paul...are you ready to redeem yourself? P. Yes, Chip. C. All right! On to the final round, it's all or nothing here. Welcome to DINNER TIME! Sound effect of someone making a "yummy" sound. C. (maintaining cheerfulness) We really gotta work on our sound effects. Okay, Paul, Martha please step on over to our swing harnesses here and strap yourself in. Now, this is how we play Dinner Time. As we all know, dinner time is the time to unwind after a long day, eat good food with your loved ones and discuss a plethora of different topics. But there are some topics you typically want to avoid at the dinner table. Well, not tonight. Tonight, you will be challenged with discussing theses difficult topics face to face, brutally honest, with no escape. The more you are able to have these difficult discussions, be truthful, and overcome differences, the higher you will find yourselves ascending towards Heaven. The more you bicker, are dishonest, disagree, or shut down, the faster you descend, plummeting towards Hell. Paul and Martha are hoisted up into the air. They stop right in the middle, suspended in between Heaven and Hell. C. You will have thirty seconds per topic, then we will shout the next one out at you. Are you ready? M. Not quite. What if we-- C. Annnd go! Finances! M. You suck at saving money! We are always in debt and playing catch up. P. We have bills, that's where the money goes. M. All of it!?! I've seen your account statements. There is money that is being pulled out every month. Where's it going? P. I don't know what you're talking about. Paul dips down. P. Okay, okay! I do a monthly spa trip and a few hours at the batting cages for myself. M. What? P. I love you, but I need time for myself. If I'm not at work, I'm home with you. I don't have any other friends, I just need a chance to be by myself with my thoughts. I know how much it means to you for us to spend time together. I just didn't know how to ask for what I needed. M. ...That's okay. I can be without you for awhile. If you need that time, then you should take it. Paul ascends a bit. So does Martha. Bell dings. C. Something that bugs you about the other person! P. Your have an awful sense of humor. M. Awful? My jokes are funny. You laugh! P. I laugh because you stare at me expectantly. Basically held hostage for a laugh. So I choke one out, but they are not funny. M. Wow. Okay. What about when I make up songs narrating whatever you're doing at the time, in my funny voice. That always get you. P. Those are the worst! M. I see. P. But, obviously, that doesn't mean I don't love you. M. Of course not, I'll just stop making them since they're "awful." P. Martha... Martha plunges a little. P. (genuinely concerned) Martha! Bell dings. C. Sexual Fetish. Paul looks at Martha. Martha looks at Paul. Uncomfortably, he stares back. She peers back...twice as hard. Paul capitulates. P. I, uh. Well. I get turned on when it's time. M. When it's time? P. Yes. M. Good for you, Paul, you get an erection when you're about to be sexually active. That's good. You got something up on 70% of men. P. No! I mean, thank you but that's not what I was talking about. You know. (Pointing at her legs and indicating down below) When it's that time. Paul descends a little. C. You don't have a lot of time here, Paul. P. When you're menstruating. I think it's hot and I get really turned on. M. That's gross, Paul! I'm bleeding. I'm literally bleeding out of my cooch! P. (under his breath) Oh my goodness. Could you not say that? Could you not say cooch. M. Well that's what it is, Paul! Does that word bother you? Does it disgust you? It certainly shouldn't... They both begin a slow steady plummet. P. (Still under breath) It's "vagina." It's called a vagina. Bell dings. M. It's a cooch, Paul, my cooch. I'll call it what I want! C. We really should move on. P. She's so vulgar. M. What was that?? P. I said you're so vulgar, Martha. Shut up! They both stop their decent. Beat. Paul's sudden growth of a backbone allows his swing harness to ascend just a tad. He continues to rise during the following. P. You have been vulgar, dominating, and controlling since the day I met you! And I have tried to be understanding and accommodating and dismissive of the degradation and frustrations I was feeling but I just can't do it anymore. You want to know the true? When I first proposed marriage to you, I did not love you. I know because when we were first married, I kept track of time meticulously. I watched days, weeks, months, anniversaries go by like they were a sworn enemy. I watched. Never blinking. And then one day I lost count of the days. The years we'd been married...because one day, I woke up next to you and realized that I loved my wife. I grew to love you. I grew to care. Things like offering to cook dinner or take you to your appointments. I do that stuff because I want to not because I feel like I have to. But now as I...float here, I'm starting to realize that that may not be enough. M. Paul. I've never heard you speak like this before. Martha rises a bit. M. I love you. I am sorry. She rises a little more as so much emotionally, is hitting her. All of a sudden, her swing stops five feet or so below Paul. She stretches her hand out to him. Can you reach it? P. Do I want to? M. Just please. Read out for it. Reach out. Presently, he does not move. C. We're gonna take a quick commercial break here, folks. When we come back, Paul and Martha have am undeniably strong, yet strained connection to each other, that much is true. But will it be enough to land them upstairs in God's sanctuary or will they take that painful plummet to the fiery depths below? Find out when we come back to... CHIP & STUDIO AUDIENCE. HEAVEN OR HELLLLL! END OF PLAY E. Name's Esmé. Means "esteemed" or "loved" in Old French.
F. Ic. E. Yes. Be amazed. F. Thanx. E. Which do U pick? F. I'll let U know. CAST OF CHARACTERS
JEFF - Your average teenage boy ELI -- Your average social acceptance-seeking nerd Lights up. JEFF and ELI are chilling on their couch, watching TV and swiping thru screens on their phones. E. It's 11:11! Make a wish! J. That's dumb. E. How is it dumb? J. 'Cause it's a waste of time and stupid. It's not like any of it comes true. E. How do you know? Have you ever done it? J. No. E. All right then. J. Still not doing it. E. Suit yourself. I'm going to make a wish, I'm not going to waste this minute sitting here arguing with you. Eli closes his eyes and wishes. When Jeff is sure Eli can't see him, he closes his eyes and gets in a quick wish. They open their eyes. Jeff goes back to his phone as if his gaze never left it. J. So what'd you wish for? E. I can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true. Besides you didn't want to be a part of this. It's dumb right? J. Psh. Whatevs, brah. They go back to their phones. J. Whoa, dude! Somebody posted this picture of you standing on a table wearing a crown, pointing a giant fake sword into the sky. E. Oh yeah. J. And you're surrounded by people bowing to you. E. Yeah, that was a crazy night. J. When was this? E. Last Saturday. Threw a wicked party. J. What? Where was I? E. I don't know, I'm not your keeper. J. (Scrolling thru more pictures) I've never seen any of these pictures before! This one has over a hundred "likes!" (Reading comments) "Eli is a God amongst men...You're so cute, I can't stand it...I bow down to you Your Majesty." What is all of this? (Comes to another picture of Eli dunking a basketball) When did you join the basketball team? Eli. I've been on the team all season, Jeff. I'm Captain. J. You're dunking the ball? You're like 5'7, 5'8 and half with shoes. Eli. What can I say, Jeff...I'm kind of a big deal. J. Since when? Scott VanHook is "bowing down to you"?? I'm pretty sure that guy wanted to kick your ass last week. E. And my how the tables have turned. J. This doesn't make any sense. How are you all of a sudden the most popular guy in school? E. Let's just say...wishes do come true (Evil laugh). J. This is what you wished for? To be famous at our shitty little high school in the middle of Bumfuck, USA? E. It may seem small time to you, Jeffrey, but to me...it's all I've ever wanted. Girls talk to me, teachers cut me slack, every little thing goes exactly my way...It may not be much, but it's all I need. J. And you're saying that your little 11:11 wish did all this? Eli starts into the kitchen. E. It's too bad you don't believe in that sort of thing, Jeff. You could've had the world. You could've had it all if you'd just believed. Eli disappears into the kitchen. A moment later, a giant roar is heard from the kitchen. Eli walks back in calmly. E. Jeff, why is there a dinosaur in my kitchen? J. I, uh. Well... E. Don't believe in 11:11, I thought. J. I didn't. I mean. I don't. I was just curious. E. And in your curiosity, you decided to conjure 230 million year old hell beasts? J. Originally, I wanted Pokémon to be real. E. What happened to that idea? At least many of those are cute and small. J. I was going for originality. E. What does that even mean? Dinosaur ROARS! E. Jesus! Did you at least wish for the existence of Pokéballs? That way we can at least catch and contain them? That thing's really pissed. J. No, you were done wishing--I panicked and opened my eyes! A giant dinosaur tail bursts thru the kitchen door and into the living room. Rubble everywhere. Roar! E. Goddamnit, Jeff, you asshole! We are SO not friends anymore. And you're paying for a new kitchen. J. (Bowing to his knees) Yes, Your Majesty. Black out. END OF PLAY A. I run faster in my Sambas.
B. You're right about that, you are handsome when you mamba. A. No, I'm smooth! Two tap shoes for widows on Wednesday. B. All day? My goodness, stay out of harm's way. A. They call me Sputnik. B. That's a good game. A. To hell with you. B. And also with you. Have you shaved today? A. Only at dawn. The rest is just luck. B. Luck is for dreamers. Skill is for doers. A. I'm a doer. B. What do you do? A. All of that which cannot be-- B. Done? Here, have one. A. Three and one. B. Six of two. A. Six times two is a dozen of one. B. Half a dozen of another. A. Antiquated, that saying is. B. Or has become. A. Put down that gun. It isn't loaded. B. But it's not all salad. A. Then don't try to pull the finger. B. You know just how to hit my triggers, don't you? A. What can I say? I have a nap sack knack. B. Can you back track that? A. Certainly. I said I have a trapeze act flap. B. Flap your wings, Mack. Attack! A. I broke your back, read the map, and proved fact. B. Did you prove fact, or make impossibilities act as truths? A. I don't know, fix the roof. B. You don't get to tell me which planet we're on. A. To hell with you. B. Thank you, doc. May I have another? A. I'm no doctor. B. That's okay, neither am I. A. But I asked for your help! B. When? A. Just now. Didn't you hear me? B. No, you spoke no sense. A. I spoke no sense? You spoke no fence! B. Don't gel me what tense I spoke! A. You poke no dense! I force on you! B. Peh. Me say. Feh, meh, deh deh, to you. And to you! A. So, what now? B. Salamander. The year is 1712. The trial of Thomas Wallis takes place in a London courtroom.
JUDGE. Mr. Wallis, you are being charged with violent attacks on women in what's become known as "The Whipping Thom attacks." How do you plead? W. Guilty. Take me away. JUDGE. Guilty? You realize the trial has just started, don't you want to defend yourself? W. I know what I did. Mankind knows what I did. And they will one day thank me for it. JUDGE. Let me see if I've got this straight. You plead guilty to all charges? W. Yes. JUDGE. Does the jury need time to confer? JURY. No, we think we've got it. JUDGE. What is the verdict? JURY. We find the defendant undeniably guilty, Your Honor. JUDGE. Thomas Wallis, on the charges of a masked assailant jumping out at women, bending them over, pulling up skirts, and viciously smacking their bottoms, the jury finds you guilty. You are sentenced to one year in prison, with scheduled weekly beatings by women, just before running a gauntlet comprised of two hundred maids, wives, and widows. W. Thank you, Your Honor, jury. JUDGE. Just one question, Wallis. Why? W. Unless women be whipped out of their wicked pride and baseness, mankind will become women’s slaves. I am the savior. JUDGE. Actually, you're bat-shit crazy. Goodbye, Mr. Wallis. Judge signals for Wallis to be taken away. W. You can lock away, beat me, and make it so I never seen the sun again, but it will not help. There were others before me, and there will be others after me. JUDGE. Get him out of here. W. You don't want to hear it, do you? You don't like the truth? JUDGE. Take him away! Wallis is dragged from court. JUDGE. He needs to get right with God. END OF PLAY http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whipping_Tom A. U, sir, have offended me.
B. No offense meant. U find yourself accidentally offended. A. I demand satisfaction. B. Will a 20 do it? Two "friends" run into each other on the street.
A. Hey! B. Oh, hey there, hey. A. Wow, it's good to see you-- B. Yeah, yeah. A. How've you been? B. Good, good. I've been good. You? A. Good. Great. Yeah, been great. Keeping busy...really busy. B. That's good. Busy's good. A. Oh yeah... B. Doing what? A. Huh? B. Busy doing what? A. Oh you know, lot of...stuff. So much. Like...Gosh, I don't even know where to start. How about you? What have you been up to? B. Well, I've been-- A. I want you back. B. Listen, please don't start this again-- A. Look, I know what you are going to say-- B. We've been through this. It just can't be. A. But why? Why not? B. You and I, we're just two different people. We're two people who are too different. You like to post non-sense articles on the latest Miley Cyrus fiasco and complain about your relationship issues. I like to bring attention to Putin and Ukraine. I like to stimulate my mind and increase my social awareness. You like to play Candy Crush and get to the bottom of that age old question: Are you dating a grown woman or a girl? A. Look, if I cut down on the Buzzfeed posts, will you take me back? B. It's too late. I've moved on. A. We can work on this, we can. Please? My newsfeed is so stale, my timeline so c--cold...without you. B. No. A. I sent you another-- B. Yeah, I got it. A. Are you gonna-- B. I don't know. A. Do you miss me? You do, don't you? B. Look, I'm just really confused right now. A. It's okay. Me, too. B. My life is already chaotic enough. I don't need any added stress onl-- A. I know! I know you don't...but that's why you love being my...that's why you need me on your list. Who else can make you smile with a stupid YouTube video? Who else would be on your zombie apocalypse survival team? How did you first find out about Beyoncé's sister attacking Jay-Z? B. You. A. That's right! Me, baby! B. Am I just another number to you? A. What? No! B. Tell me the truth. Does it actually matter to you if we're frie-- A. Does it actually matter?? Of course it does! B. You never liked my pictures. A. What? B. Or my status updates. You never liked any of them. Actually, you'd "like" comments that other people posted on my statuses or pictures, but you'd never "like" or comment on them directly. That hurts. A. I'm sorry. I had no idea that stuff mattered to you. B. Well, you know if you're "friends" with somebody, you'd think you would actually interact with them, but you don't in fact it feels like you make a concerted effort to ignore me. It just doesn't feel like you give a damn and I'm just...I'm done. A. Hey, I give a damn. I do give a damn. B. Okay. A. So...will you accept me? B. I'll...think about it. A. Well, don't keep me in limbo forever...I'd like to "like" your latest profile picture. It's pretty funny. B. You'd "like to 'like'?" A. I'd love to. So... A gets down on one knee. A. Will you do me a great honor in accepting my friend request? Will you be my "friend?" B draws in a deep breath. END OF PLAY SETTING: Movie Night at B's apartment
A. So, whaddya wanna watch? B. I don't know, what do you wanna watch? A. Well, let's look. They go thru stacks of movies or, more plausibly, scroll thru the Netflix catalog. A. Something Ben Stiller-y or something Tom Hanks-y? B. I'm up for anything. Whatever sounds good. A. Okay, Green Mile? B. No, too depressing. A. Zoolander? B. Too silly. Ooh, The Notebook? A. Too unrealistic. B. What? A. Oh, baby! Let me meet you out in the fucking rain and tell you about all the letters I wrote to you while I was away at war. B. That was one of the most beautiful, touching things I have ever seen. A. Give me a break. He coulda called, texted, sent an email, a friend request, SOMEthin'! B. They didn't have any of that back then! A. They didn't have any of it period. Never woulda happened. And besides, letters... Hmpf! Carrier pigeons just ain't what they used to be. B. What does that mean? A. I'm done with this. Hunchback of Notre Dame? B. Not in the mood for cartoons. A. You said you were up for anything. B. Oh yeah...Anything but cartoons--you didn't let me finish. Besides, not to sound rude or anything, but Quasimodo is one ugly mofo. A. Umm, that is extremely rude. B. I said I didn't mean to be. A. Just because you preface something with "not to sound rude" doesn't give you permission to haul off and say something rude. Besides, part of the point of that movie is to like, learn the lesson that-- B. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and "only skin deep" and that "a person is beautiful for their inner qualities" and "shit." I get it. But still, I don't wanna have to be lookin' at his ugly mug all night long, that'll give me nightmares and probably mess up my weekend. A. Wow. You are horrible! B. Okay, just chillax. Jeez, you're getting all worked up. You're gonna start sweating and you know that shirt you're wearing is unforgiving in the heat. A. It it not! B. Who are you foolin', it needs a Breathe Right strip. A. Yeah well, no disrespect or anything, but your apartment smells like dead hooker and old hotdog water. Maybe you could use a Breathe Right strip and some Febreze. B. Hey! Uncalled for. A. But I said "no disrespect!" B. Mmmhm. I gotchu. (beat) Oh my God, did you hear about that school shooting today? A. I did! It's crazy. So sad. B. Oh I know. So sad. A. A lot of people got hurt, right? B. Yeah. Something like a dozen, I think. A. Where was it, again? B. I can't remember offhand. Somewhere in the Midwest, I wanna say. A. That's crazy. And, like, three kids died. B. Yeah, something like that. But the guy shot himself afterward. Didn't even say why he did it. A. That's crazy. Why do you think he did it? B. I don't know. Yeah, I have no idea. I just feel bad for the families, ya know? A. Yeah, the families, for sure. And it's such a tragedy. It's like, in this day and age, I can't believe people still do stuff like that. B. It's disgusting. A. How about Saw: The Final Chapter? B. Naw, boring. A. Boring? That stuff doesn't scare you? B. Oh, PUH-leez. I've gotten colds more scarier than those movies. A. "More scarier?" B. Totally. Mmm, what's Monty Python and the Holy Grail? A. Ugh. My mom LOVE'S that shit. B. What is it? A. It's a bunch of British guys running around talking nonsense and doing dumb shit. B. Sounds kinda funny. A. It's literally an hour and of half of people not understanding each other and clacking coconut shells together. Stupid. But to my mom...fucking hilarious. B. Ooh, how about Dallas Buyers Club? I've been wanting to see that! A. Eh. B. Matthew McConaughey gets AIDS and then helps people with AIDS get treatment. Can you say tear-jerker? A. Was he helping people before he got AIDS? B. Not sure. But everyone says it's good. A. 'Cause that'd be super selfish of someone to start helping people only when they are afflicted by something or impacted in some way. B. Maybe that's, like, his breaking point. When he knew something had to be done. A. That's like people who only pray to God when something bad happens. Church of Conveniency or some shit. Is that what happens in the movie? B. I don't know, I haven't seen the fucking movie yet! But Matthew McConaughey is so hot. And he got an Oscar for it so, it's gotta be good! A. I swear, if an actor just stops eating Twinkies for a few months and actually goes to the gym, and slims down for a role, they give him an Oscar. B. Wow, you're just a soulcrusher tonight aren't you? I don't even wanna see it anymore. A. Sorry. I'll drop it. Just like Tom Hanks did for Cast Away. B. Tom Hanks didn't win an Oscar for Cast Away! That's a great movie though. A. ...That is a good movie. Mega Shark vs. Crocosaurus? B. Ain't nobody got time for that. A. Well, shit, I don't know! Just pick something! B. I'm kind of tired now, actually. I just wanna lay down. A. Me, too. Let's go to bed. B. Wanna just put on My Strange Addiction? I once saw an episode where some woman was eating half a roll of toilet paper a day. A. Gross. Put it on. B. People are weird, man. A. True dat. END OF PLAY Cast of Characters
NICOLETTE - A late 20's, early 30's PR Rep DR. FRANCES TILLER - A psychologist Lights up on DR. TILLER's office. It's a nice, modestly furnished, inviting office with a newish-looking leather couch, two comfy chairs angled toward each other, and a tall floor lamp which is only used for relaxation and intimate sessions. The lamp is switched off in lieu of the bright ceiling light. DR. TILLER and NICOLETTE are seated in the chairs. Dr. Tiller looks up from her pad in concerned fashion in response to what she has heard. Nicolette, has been on edge since she arrived and she has just dropped a bomb. DT. You're hearing voices? N. Yes. DT. What kind of voices? N. I don't know. Just one voice. DT. Not many different voices? N. No, just one. DT. Can you describe the voice? Is it a familiar voice to you? N. No. Well, yes. But no. DT. I don't understand. N. I've heard it before, but I don't recognize it. DT. What does this voice say to you? Silence. DT. Sometimes, when I'm stressed out or have a lot on my mind, my subconscious is constantly talking to me, reminding me of things I've forgotten, chastising me for things I'm doing, chastising me for the things I'm not doing, it goes on and on. Sometimes, it's constant and it actually feels like I have voices surrounding me, constantly bombarding me with information and thoughts, but it's all just a subconscious thought process that is occurring. Does that sound like anything you're experiencing? N. No. No, this voice is not mine. It's a...almost like a raspy little girl. What a little girl would sound like if she smoked a cigarette, pounded a glass of whiskey and chased it with a mouthful of thumb tacks that she gargled, everyday since she the day she was born. DT. Well, that's horrifyingly poetic. N. I'm a PR rep. I make a living off of turning the ugly truth into poetic fantasy. DT. And how do we know this voice an extension of that poetic fantasy? N. Because it's not. Beat. DT. You're a PR rep, you say? N. Yes. DT. I know positions like that can be brutal on the mind and body. Long hours, troubleshooting, high anxiety. How much sleep are you getting? N. Not much. Two and a half, Three hours a night. DT. Good lord. I don't think I can even do that. Even when I was your age, I couldn't do less than five and still have a brain. Are you married? N. Engaged. DT. Oh? N. Her name is Abby. DT. How does Abby feel about your sleeping patterns and the voices? N. She says pretty much what you're getting at. DT. Which is? N. That it's all in my head and I'm just stressed out and need to sleep. D. That's not what I'm "getting at" at all. Yes, I think you're under a lot of stress, you don't get much sleep, my bet is that your eating habits are not the best. All of these things can lead to the brain doing very wonky things. Brain chemistry is, to a degree, unpredictable. Everyday stressors can manifest in many, many ways. I'm saying that maybe there is a correlation here between your sleep patter-- N. This is no fantasy--I know what I hear, Dr. Tiller! DT. What do you hear? N. The voice is raspy, gross, and quiet, but I swear to you, it's so close it sounds like someone sneaking up on me and whispering in my ear. DT. And what does it say? N. She. DT. She say? N. I can't. You'll think I'm crazy. Probably have me locked up. Committed away somewhere. DT. I don't think you're crazy, Nicolette, I'm trying to help. N. My question is: what's more crazy? Someone hearing voices and thinking it's completely normal, or someone hearing non-existent voices and being completely freaked out by it? DT. (stands) Here. This is what I want you to do. DR. TILLER readjusts the ouch to just parallel of the lamp. DT. Come lay down over here. I'm a of "hands-on" kind of woman. I want you try a little exercise for me. N. Will it help? I don't have time for these silly-- DT. (playfully stern) Just lay on the damn couch. Once Nicolette is laying down, Dr. Tiller turns out the ceiling light and everything goes dark on stage. Dr. Tiller then moves to the floor lamp and flips the switch... Nothing happens. DT. Oh damn it. Forgot it's not plugged it in. (searching for the lamp cable) Shows you just how often I do use this technique, huh? N. Is that supposed to make me feel better? DT. Well-- N. 'Cause it's not. DT. Sorry. I was just saying that I--Oh! There is it is. Annnnd--- As Dr. Tiller plugs the lamp in, a harsh, dingy, yellow light floods the room. She sits back down in her chair. DT. Got it. Dr. Tiler sits down. DT. All right. Take a few deeps breaths. Focus on a specific body part, take a deep breath, and on the inhale, tight it as hard as you can then release it, on the exhale--tension and all, just melt into the couch. After a few moments of this, Nicolette has closed her eyes and has almost entered a dream like state. DT. Now, Nicolette, can you hear me? N. Yes. DT. What do you feel? N. A little more relaxed. DT. Good. And the voice? Do you hear it now? N. Yes. DT. What is it saying? N. (terrified) She wants me to peel the flesh from your bones. You ask too many questions. She wants free. She says, she wants to kill the neighbors, if she could. DT. Why the neighbors? N. Because they won't shut up. Always so loud, you can hear their cat meowing incessantly through the wall. They get our mail and we never see it again. And oh God... DT. What? N. No. DT. Go on! N. The cat. She wants me to wrap my hands around its throat and squeeze until the yowling stops. She wants me to...to...(bursting into tears) I can't say anymore! DT. Let's stop. N. Why did you make me do that? I've been trying so hard to shut her out. Tune the voice out. Why...? DT. I'm sorry. I needed to hear. N. Can you help me? You're a doctor! Are there any drugs you can give me? DT. I'm a psychologist. Only psychiatrists can prescribe medications. N. Goddamnit! There must be something you can do. I can't live like this anymore! I'm scared. DT. Do you think you might put yourself, your spouse, or anyone else in harm's way? N. ... DT. I need you to answer the question, Nicolette. Are you going to harm anyone? N. ...Probably. Rising and going toward the door. DT. Okay, I need you to stay here, I'm going to go make a call. Just stay here, do you think you can do that? Nicolette begins to rise. N. No, no. Don't leave me here. Don't leave me. DT. I'll be right back. I'm going to get you some help. Nicolette jumps up and behind the couch. They lamp casts her shadow onto the wall. Dr. Tiller reaches for the doorknob and turns it. N. NO! Dr. Tiller freezes and turns back to Nicolette. There are two shadows on the wall. One belonging to Nicolette, the other, the outline of a small shaggy looking woman. The shadow begins to move independently of anything, perhaps turning profile to "look" at Nicolette. N. (in tears) Don't leave me...please don't leave me. DT. (removing hand from doorknob) I won't. Black out. END OF PLAY |
The Project
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