CAST OF CHARACTERS
FRED FRANK Two guys chat. FRE. Hey Frank? FRA. Yeah, Fred? FRE. I've got a problem. FRA. What's that? FRE. I've got no imagination. FRA. You've got no imagination? FRE. None at all. FRA. Well that doesn't seem right. Are you tired? FRE. I'm well rested. FRA. Are you depressed? FRE. Not anymore so than usual. FRA. Hmm. What have you eaten last? FRE. Toast with butter. But I can't imagine that has anything to do with my problem. FRA. You can't imagine much of anything right now. Fred points at Frank to acknowledge his quip. FRE. Ahhhh! Frank points back. FRA. Ahhhh! They chuckle. It dies down. FRA. Well, the truth is I haven't felt like myself as of late. FRA. I see. Who are you? FRE. I don't know. I just feel like someone entirely different, if I may be frank. FRA. But you're Fred. FRE. I know, I'm just being frank. FRA. Well, frankly, I'm afraid you're mistaken. FRE. How so? FRA. Because if you were Frank, then I'd be Fred. FRE. I know that. But you are Frank. FRA. And you are Fred? FRE. Yes, I'm just being frank. Are you confused? FRA. Frankly! Beat. FRE. You know, for a fleeting moment there, I believed I was you, Frank. FRA. You believed you were me? FRE. Yes. FRA. You know what that's called? FRE. What? FRA. Imagination. END OF PLAY
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A weary-looking BUSINESSMAN in a business suit, carrying a briefcase enters a dingy shop and approaches the CLERK at the counter. A "Yes, We're Open" sign hangs nearby.
C. (Bubbly) Hi, how' s it going today? BM. Good, good. Yeah. You? C. Day's going really well, thanks! BM. Yeah. Yeah. C. What can I do for you today? BM. (Looking around) Yeah, um...(Leaning in) You, uh, you got any...? C. Hm? BM. Any...(Gestures by sniffling and rubbing his nose) you know? C. I'm sorry, I'm not understanding. BM. Come on, man. Any...stuff? Come on! My guy Bertoli. He told me you have some stuff for sell and could help me out. C. Bertoli told you that? BM. Yeah! Bertoli. Me and him, we go way back, man. He wouldn't lie to me. Look, he told me you could help me out and I and need help, so don't hold out on me, man. I've got a well-paying job, I can pay. Just help me out. The CLERk considers. Then slowly walks to the "Open" sign and flips it to "Sorry, We're Closed." C. Alright. I've got what you need, but don't come in here acting all shifty like that again. I run a respectable business and I'm only doing this because Bertoli's a good friend of mine. I owe him. The CLERK reaches under his counter and pulls out a trunk. He sets the trunk the counter and opens it. Racks pull out, displaying little bags of coffee beans. BM. Oh my God, yeah! C. What do you need? BM. What do you have? C. Well, if you're looking for high caffeine content, I've got the Colombia Supremo and the Indian Mysore, those are both at 1.37%. Some of the highest. Where's your taste in acidity? BM. It doesn't matter, man. Coffee's coffee, I just need it in me. You have anything higher than 1.37%? C. Higher? Jesus, man. Don't you care about your health? BM. All I know is I've got a headache the size of the Grand Canyon and I've got forty-plus hours of sales reports and inventory lists to sift through. I'm not here to be judged by some caffeine dealer, alright. I don't care what Jesus has to say about my life and the way I run it. C. Alright, that's it---get the hell out of here! BM. Come on, man! Look, I'm sorry! I've just got to stay alert and on top of my A game. My job depends on it---my livelihood! In my bosses eyes, I'm a winner. In my family's eyes, I'm a winner---I've got to win. Look, man, I've gone three days without sleep, I'm still not finished with this job and I'm drifting fast. I fell asleep while running to catch a bus. While running! How does that happen? If I can just get thru this project, I can rest---I can rest---I'll rest, I promise!. I just need a little. Just a little taste to get me through. (Beat) Look, I'M HOOKED ON THE BEAN, alright!?! Is that what you wanna hear? I'M HOOKED ON THE BEAN AND I NEED IT BAD! Now cut the judgment and tell me the truth. Do you have anything stronger?? The CLERK ponders and goes underneath the counter again. He pulls out a small box and a key. He unlocks the box and opens it. A slight hiss is heard. He pulls out a small ziplock bag of coffee beans. He opens the bag and lets the BUSINESSMAN waft a little into his senses. BM. It's beautiful. C. Yes. I know. BM. What is it? C. Tanzania Peaberry. Rare coffee bean. It's a fused-bean coffee, harvested from Mt. Kilimanjaro. The caffeine content sits at a heart-bursting 1.42%. BM. I'll take it. C. One-hundred bucks. BM. What!?! C. Hey! This is harvested from the tallest peak in Africa! A couple of my guys died getting this to me. My hearts go out to their families...and 10% of the proceeds in accordance with an out-of-court settlement. Trust me though, if you want to be jazzed, this'll do it. BM. Give me the coffee. The BUSINESSMAN hands over the money. The CLERK hands over the beans. The BUSINESSMAN takes out a single bean, bites it in half, the smells the inside. BM. It's pure. C. You bet your buttons it is. The BUSINESSMAN stows it away in his briefcase, wipes his brow and turns to head out. BM. Thanks. C. Remember: Don't over roast it! You do that, you'll lose caffeine content. Medium roast it, pull it if it starts to get burnt. Grind it fine to get the most out of it. BM. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it...I own a french press. BUSINESSMAN walks out. C. Jesus. You gotta feel sorry for the guy. Oh well, we all gotta make a living. CLERK flips his sign back to "Yes, We're Open" and whistles cheerfully to himself. Blackout. END OF PLAY http://petapixel.com/2014/07/17/artist-replaces-sky-coffee-swirls-create-caffeine-addicts-dream-world/ A beach. A colossal squid lays lifeless in the sand, protruding out of the water. A man is trapped under its tentacles, passed out.
He awakens. M. What the---? Where the... He struggles. M. Hey! He struggles harder. M. Hey... He grabs a tentacle and tries to move it off of him. He gets covered in slime. The tentacle slips they his arms and smacks him in the face. He screams. He continues screaming. M. Goddamnit. What is this? Get off me! Get off! His struggling is no good. His body goes limp with exhaustion. M. What's the last thing I remember? I called in sick to work to go fishing. I was on my boat. I snagged something. He looks at the squid. M. Something big. (Beat.) Somebody help! Help! He waits. Nothing. He tries to roll himself onto his belly and claw his way to safety. He maybe makes some progress, but wears out quickly. M. Anybody! S.O.S.! Man down! A cat enters, leisurely exploring. It pokes it head into this and that. M. Hey! Here kitty, kity! Brrrraaawww! The cat looks up and hesitantly inches closer. M. C'mere, kitty! Good kitty! That cat gets near enough to sniff him, but not close enough to touch. M. Thank God. If I can't get out of here, at least I'll have you. Good kitty. Good ki--- The cats ears perk up. Its attention is drawn elsewhere. Gives a slight "Meeeow" and runs off. M. Wait a minute, kitty! Wait, wait! Don't leave me, kitty! Don't--- Kitty's gone. Just back to the man, trapped under a dead, stinking colossal squid. M. Kitty? Kitty? KITTY!!!!! Black out. END OF PLAY A-Can't I just give up & b content?
B-Would U b content in giving up? A-I'd b content in life. B-How? A-Stop caring. B-Is that living? A-... A great wishing fountain sits center stage. It's got a statue of some sort and water gushing and flowing.
A. A new car. A tosses in a quarter. B. Nope. A. Too big of a wish? A moped. B. No. A. What do you want from me? A bike, then. B. Still no. A. Something with wheels! Come on, you're killing me. B. No, you said it out loud. It won't come true. You're supposed to just think it. A. What? That's superstition. B. Those are the rules. A. Set by who? B. (pointing to the statue) Him. A. Him? Who's Him? B. The...Master of Dreams. A. That sounds like a bad metal band. B. Well, it's true. B closes their eyes and after a moment of seriousness, they toss in a coin. A. What'd you wish for? B. Can't tell you. A. What? So you can't say it out loud and you can't tell anyone? B. Nope. A. So how can it come true if you're the only one who knows about it? B. They just do. The Ma--- A. Master of Dreams knows? B. Yes. A. That's stupid. That's stupid and I've just wasted a quarter. On top of that, I'm not going to get a new car, not even so much as a scooter. And you made me walk all the way down here for this? I'm outta here. A storms off. B stands and stares at the fountain. B. I believe in you, Master. B starts to walk off. The stage begins to rumble. B turns back to the fountain just as it explodes in a brilliant golden light. Coins shoot up in a fierce jet and go everywhere. The statute almost comes to life. Coins continue to rush out of the fountain and fall like a torrential rainstorm. B dances. END OF PLAY A-I am playdough.
B-I have Hands. A-I go where I want. B-U go where I want. A-I'm my own master. B-If U r master, I am God. A-God is good. A MAN is confined in a tight glass case. He is bound and no matter how much he fights and struggles, it is no use. Throughout all of the following dialogue (which is all voiceover), the tank fills with water. A BEAST stands in darkness, with just a faint silhouette. It is massive, with burning yellow eyes. It watches the MAN as he struggles for life and his tank fills. Throughout the piece, the lighting changes constantly from dead of night to early morning to bright sunny mid afternoon, to evening, to dusk, back to night and so on. All the while, the BEAST watches. You bore into my head as a maggot does rotting flesh. Always watching, always stalking. I can feel your claws tearing thru me. I've never known pain to embrace me so gently, yet so violently. Cut me until my innards are out. Choke me until air never tasted so sweet. Love me how you used to. Hate me as I want you to. Tonight is the night where all wounds mend, under stormy clouds and Heaven's tears. Protect me not. Shame me not. This is our redemption hour. Though I have my shield and armor and am ready for battle, your laser gaze burns holes thru me and into forever. Battles we lost in the eternal war. At least we can say we tried. We tried to resist. We tried to resist it. But I can feel your claws tearing thru me. I've never known pain to embrace me so gently, yet so violently. Cut me until my innards are out. Choke me until air never tasted so sweet. Love me how you used to. Hate me as I want you to. Tonight is the night where are wounds mend, under stormy clouds and Heaven's tears. Let my lingering light leave lasting questions. Let my departed silence lend no answers. This is our redemption hour. Your weight crushes. Crushes. Crushing. Crushingly cruel. I'm drowning in your drool pool, with no clue, I play the fool. In my mind's eye, I see the blue. The deep, deep blue. Wishing, hoping, praying for release to come soon. Release, relief, release, the relief, and give me back the light stolen from my sun-kissed cheeks. I'm too weak. Too weak to overcome this beast. Save yourself and sacrifice me, it's okay, I've got an inheritance coming to me, my name is: The Meek. Hide and go seek. The maggots bore deep. Deeper than the deepest blue notes my saxophone heart seeps. Singing a song. A melody so tender. When I leave this earth, give my mother the strength to get thru, mend her. 'Cause I can feel you always watching, always stalking. I can feel your claws tearing thru me. I've never known pain to embrace me so gently, yet so violently. Cut me until my innards are out. Choke me until air never tasted so sweet. Love me how you used to. Hate me as I want you to. Tonight is the night where are wounds mend, under stormy clouds and Heaven's tears. I'd give everything I got just to sleep peaceful. My feeble apologies go out to the people. Trying to force a key into what I thought was the keyhole, but really, it's just God's peephole. "No worries" said He..."This is our redemption hour." The water is up to the MAN's nose. He fights to keep his nose and eyes about the rising water. The BEAST snarls, its yellow eyes glowing intensely. Blackout. END OF PLAY The set is frozen lake. A FISHERMAN, wearing a dry suit and backpack over his shoulders, enters carrying a tackle box, a fold out chair, a fishing pole, a battery-powered heater, and an auger. He struggles to carry all of this.
He tries to set everything down---this is a Herculean task. Eventually, he gives up lets go of everything, it crashes to the ice. Weary, he extends his arms as if to brace himself. Nothing happens. His stomach gurgles. He pats it reassuringly, wipes his brow and and begins setting up his fishin' hole. He takes the auger and begins drilling a hole in the ice. It's tiresome. After a bit of hard labor and little progress, he looks to his foldout chair. He sets the auger down and grabs the chair. He sets up the chair, grabs the auger, goes to sit down on the edge of the chair. His weight pushes the chair out from under him and sends it sliding across the ice. He gets up brings the chair back. He lowers himself slowly and hesitantly onto the chair. Success. He resumes drilling a hole into the ice. He breaks thru the ice. He grabs his pole and opens his tackle box. Pulling out a can of worms, he baits his hook. He lowers the hook into the hole and waits. He wiggles the line a bit. Waits. Perhaps he whistles to himself, but stops himself in an effort to not create noise to scare the fish. He starts to shiver as he realizes he's getting very, very cold. He blows into his hands and rubs them together. He looks to his heater. the FISHERMAN sets his pole down, grabs his heater, and sets it up. He flicks a switch and whirs to life---it is very noisy. He puts his finger to his mouth as if to shush it, then looks around frantically. He reaches inside the backpack and produces a small blanket. He puts it over the top of the heater to muffle it. Satisfied, he sits back down and picks up his pole. Nothing biting, he decides to check his bait. He pulls up the line to discover his worm is encased in an ice cube. He grabs the heater and positions it towards he and the hole. He retracts his hand almost immediately. He has burned his fingers. He sucks on them to comfort himself. Once he recovers, he grabs the part of the heater covered by blanket and positions it. He then dangles the ice cubed worm in front of the heater. After waiting too long, he gets up, grabs a hammer out of his tackle box and takes his pole to another part of the lake. He sets the ice cubed worm down and begins to lightly tap at it with the hammer. Lightly. Lightly. A little harder. A little harder. Harder. Hard. He hits so hard that the hammer smashed thru the ice cubed worm and thru the lake ice. His entire arms goes plunging into the hole he's just created. SPLASH. At that moment a fish pops its head out of the first hole. It looks around, discovers the heater, turns towards it, and begins to warm itself, rubbing its fins together in the universal "Ahhh, that's toasty" gesture. The FISHERMAN, has pulled himself out of the water and turns to see the fish. They lock eyes. He leaps towards the fish, who ducks back down under the ice. The FISHERMAN lands on his stomach right in front of the hole. The fish is gone. The FISHERMAN gets himself up. Frustrated, he grabs his pole and without thinking, sits back down, full force. Once again, the chair goes flying across the ice, he falls on his derrière. He brings the chair back to the hole and goes to sit down, but looks before he sits. The chair starts to pull itself out from under him on its own--it comes to a shameful stop when he sees it move. He stops himself from fully sitting, stands straight up and points around the world as if it say, "I'm on to you, buddy." He moves the chair back, holds onto it as he sits. He picks up his pole. As he re-baits his hook: His arm starts to freeze. It's uncomfortable. The FISHERMAN tries to warm his arm in front of the heater. It works until the heater abruptly falls thru the ice, creating a new hole. Steam rises from the hole, accompanied by loud hissing. The FISHERMAN stares at the hole in disbelief. He takes to the audience. To his freshly baited hook. Back to the new hole created by the heater. He shrugs and plops the bait down into that hole. Something tugs on his line, he pulls up excitedly to reveal: A boot attached to his hook. He grumpily throws it off and lowers his hook again. A fish pokes its head out of the second (hammer) hole and looks around. He sees it. It disappears. He runs over to the hole and drops his line. His fishing hook and line lowers from the sky right above him. He tugs on the line a little bit, the hook snatches part of his dry suit. He tugs harder thinking he's got a fish. The hook jerks on him pulling him around. He fights it, while continuing to jerk on his own rod, creating more problems for himself. Finally he gives one big heave and yanks the pole. The line from the sky breaks. He falls backward pulling his line out of the hole. There is nothing attached to it. A fish pokes its head out of the hole the FISHERMAN is at. Stares at him. Another fish pokes its head out of the heater hole. Yet another fish pokes its heat out of the original hole. The fish all gaze at the FISHERMAN. They laugh. They laugh at him. The FISHERMAN loses it. He jumps up and runs around the ice kicking and screaming at the fish who duck, bob, and laugh. All the fish duck under the ice and disappear. The FISHERMAN, cold, wet, and in pain, hobbles to the chair. He goes to sit. The chair stays put. The FISHERMAN sulks for a moment. His stomach gurgles. He pats it apologetically. He takes a chocolate bar out of his tackle box. Opens it and takes a bite. A fish pokes its head out of a hole. It stares at the FISHERMAN for a moment, sniffs at the air, catching a whiff of chocolate. It leaps out of the hole and onto the ice. The FISHERMAN is startled. Another fish pokes its head out, smells the chocolate and leaps out of the water. Yet another fish pokes its head out and follows suit. Fish continue to leap out onto the ice more rapidly, nonstop. The FISHERMAN mid-bite, takes to the audience as fish fill the stage. Blackout. END OF PLAY A is building a massive house of cards.
He meticulously stacks. He stacks a card. It falls. He freezes and holds his breath. The house wobbles and settles. He breathes easy. Another card falls over. He panics. Another card falls. He walks away. Regroups. Comes back and re-stacks the fallen cards. B enters from opposite side, excitedly. B stops with the house of cards between them. Bursting with news, B opens mouth wide and draws in a huge breath to speak. A clasps hand over B's mouth. Then points to the house as if to say "motherfucka, the slightest breeze will blow this shit over." B apologizes and offers help. A waves "sure." Points to deck of cards asking to be handed some. B hands over some cards. A thanks B and signals for them to leave. They opens their mouths again to speak. A grunts. A gust of wind suddenly picks up. They both freeze momentarily. A signals for B to get on the other side to protect the house. They shield the house from the wind. The wind dies down. A continues to build the house as B watches. A signals for B to leave. B does not. B tries to grab cards to help. A fights B off, shoving B to the ground. B gets up and leaves. A finishes putting all the cards on the house, it is massive. He stands back and marvels at his achievement. Then with no hesitation, A unleashes a hell-storm of rages upon the house, completely destroying it. He ends up on the ground, surrounded by cards, panting, out of breathe. His smirk says it all. Black out. END OF PLAY A-I'm melting---melting in2 a puddle!
B-No way, I'm melting, 2! A-U? U're just standing in a pool of warm water. B-I am? A-Yes. Get off me.. |
The Project
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