Moxy

A ridiculously complicated play I started. The punchline is some chick dies.



Act 1 Scene 1
A woman lies on a beach. She sputters and coughs up some water. She rolls over and her chest heaves. Her eyes are closed and she breathes deeply for a moment.
Man's voice: I won't let you hurt the ones I love.
She pinches her eyes together. Her brow furrows and her bottom lip begins to quiver.
Woman's voice: You can't stop, can you?
She begins to sob quietly, the water coming up to lap at her toes as she rolls into the fetal position.
Man's voice: I can't do this anymore. I-I just...I need...
Woman's voice: See what you've done?
Sobs rack through her and she clings to her shoulders in the sand.
Act 1 Scene 2
A woman in a seashell pink dress steps quickly out onto a balcony. She breathes deeply and walks to the railing. She has a glass of wine in her hand and she drinks the contents quickly when she hears the door opening. A man in a dark blue silk shirt walks slowly out to her. He stands beside her and says nothing.
Woman: Loud, huh?
She sets the glass on the balcony and turns to appraise her newfound companion. He continues to stand solemnly, a light breeze making ripples across his chest.
Man: I won't let you hurt the ones I love.
The woman falters for a moment, then turns quickly knocking the glass from the ledge. She leans over after it.
Woman: No!
The man leans over and the sound of ocean waves crashing against rocks can be heard. He chuckles to himself. She turns and looks at him indignantly. He looks for a moment into her face and begins to laugh much louder.
Woman: You can't stop, can you?
Man: No, I don't think so ma'am.
She looks at him and looks again over the edge. The door opens again and a woman in white top walks out to join them.
Woman: Monty! What are you doing out here?
The white topped woman looks for a moment at the gentleman standing beside Monty.
Woman: And in such dashing company.
Monty: I (She looks over at the man and shakes her head), I forgot my purse. I'm just going to run and get it.
Woman: Do you know where you left it?
Monty: Yeah, I got it, no worries Joline.
Joline: Okay fine, just watch out for Mark; you know he is still prowling about inside...
Monty: I know, I know. I'll be right back.
Monty rushes off, disappearing through the doors. Loud music and the sound of people's voices is heard for a moment. Joline turns and looks at the man in blue. He is looking out toward the ocean, his back to her.
Act 1 Scene 3
A small clump of chairs sit before a stage. The people are sitting and ruffling through their programs when the lights go down. They sit quietly and wait.
Guy's voice: Ugh finally!
Girl's voice: Ma feet!
A man and a woman amble onto the stage wearing hiking clothes with large packs on their backs. Another couple appears behind them after a moment. The woman are Monty and Joline, respectively.
Another male voice: Jeez, it's gorgeous up here.
Another girl's voice: Mark, you gotta get something cooking or I will die.
Mark: Uhh, I'm pretty sure that's woman's work...
Second girl: Helen! Are you hearing this?! You MEN are supposed to provide!
Helen: It's true, where's my newly murdered meal?
Mark: Well, you and Margaret can just wait for a few hours, in the empty, dusty cabin (cleaning, as they should); and Hank and I will venture boldly into the wilderness to stab bunnies.
Hank: Uh huh.
Margaret/Joline and Helen/Monty: Puhlease.
Helen, who has ventured ahead, stops for a moment. She looks out past the stage at something in the distance. Her brow furrows and she turns back towards the group; just as Margaret is slapping Hank playfully on the arm.
Helen: (serious) Mark? Is that the cabin?
Mark: Yeah, why?
Helen: Up there? In that clearing?
Mark comes up and stands by Helen. She points and he looks out with her. After a moment he nods and looks at her.
Mark: Pretty nice, huh?
Helen: Yeah.
Mark: Y'know (trying to distract her from whatever she is thinking about) my aunt and uncle lived up here for a really long time when I was younger. We used to come up an visit them pretty consistently back then. I remember once, I was running around with my cousins, y'know, and I accidentally tripped; and my uncle kept this pile of broken table saw blades (they were tucked away in his shed, but that's where we happened to be playing, y'know); and I landed right on them.
Makr begins to tug up the leg of his pants.
Mark: How I got this scar.
Helen looks down at this and smiles.
Mark: What?
Helen: Nothing. Guess I just like the idea of you as a little kid running to your mom, all teary eyed.
Mark: Hey, lookit that scar! It hurt!
Helen: Awww, so cute; you're still doing it!
Mark: HA!
Hank ambles up, Margaret under his arm, pressing against him.
Hank: That it?
Mark: Yep.
Hank and Mark make eye contact for a short moment and then begin running. They run off the stage.
Helen and Margaret: GUYS!
Margaret: A race! Really!?
Helen: C'mon!
They run after the boys and the lights go down.
Act 1 Scene 4
Lights are dim, a small glow begins to rise from the center of the stage. It builds into a campfire. The two couples sit around the fire, each leaning against each other. Hank clears his throat.
Hank: SO I know it's a beautiful night, but we ARE around a campfire IN Colorado.
Helen: What about Colorado?
Hank: The hotel Stephen King based the Shining off of is in Estes Park!
The group looks at him.
Hank: Estes Park is in Colorado.
Group: Ahhh...
Mark: Sooo...
Helen: A ghost story?
Hank nods and looks into the fire. Helen and Mark look down at it, waiting.
Hank: I heard a really good one at camp one year.
Margaret: Which camp?
Hank: It was called Ft. Moxy. I went there for a long time as a kid, and then, when I got out of high school, I worked there a few summers.
Margaret: Hmmm.
Hank: It was great 'cause every Wednesday night, we had this big campfire and then went back to our cabins. Then, once everyone was settled, we would tell a scary story. All the kids knew which day it was and bugged us for what story we would tell. They had heard ones like “Crazy Jose” and “The Nazi”, so they were always excited for a new story. Among us counselors, we even had a private bet on who could tell scariest story.
Hank clears his throat. The group looks up at him.
Hank: So, the scariest one I ever heard, was during my second summer. I couldn't tell you who made it up or where it came from, but it damn near scared the bejeezus out of us. It went like this:
The lights rise on the other side of the stage. The scene shows a group of men and women standing around in a loose group, chatting casually.
Hank: Every year there are new counselors at Ft. Moxy.
A man steps forward to shake that of a new arrivals.
Hank: I mean really fresh fish. People who had never even attend the Mox as a camper. One of these one year was called David.
The group pats the new kid on the back.
Hank: David was well liked and generally a good counselor. He got his kids to eat and made people laugh and was pretty much a sweet guy.
A man in mechanics jumper steps forward.
Hank: Now the camp had for a long time, a caretaker. He was rather grizzled, but friendly and helpful. He was always quick with a one liner and could fix a busted toilet in a pinch.
The caretaker walks up to the group and stands with them.
Hank: It was also common knowledge that the caretaker had a dog, whom he loved dearly. The dog's name was Jack, though no one quite knew why. They said it was his dead son's name. They said it was the name of the man who had taken his wife. They said lots of things.
The group laughs and the caretaker smiles.
Hank: Every once and while, though, the caretaker would need to go and do some work out in woods that the camp owned. Now Jack hated to be cooped up all alone in the house, but was pretty tolerable if you let him sit outside and sleep in the sun. On these days, the caretaker would chain his pup up in front of his shed and ask:
Caretaker: He bub, will you watch my dag?
David: Sure thing, sir.
Hank: And most of the time, it was fine. The dog would lay and you could leave it alone for a while, but you had to remember to bring it water every now and then; sit with him and talk. Most of the time, this was fine. Most of the time.
The caretaker exits and the boy goes and gets a water dish. He sets it on the ground on the far side of the stage, presumably before the dog. He smiles and pats the air and then looks over his shoulder. He looks back towards the dog and then backs away, waving. He continues to smile and wave until he finally disappears off stage.
Margaret: But thats not what happened.
Hank: No.
The boy runs out on stage. Cricket noises play in the background.
Hank: He forgot all day, but remembered that night and returned to see if the dog was alright. He found an over turned water bowl and something else.
The man shines his flashlight around and picks up the water dish. He sets it down suddenly and jumps back. Moving carefully, he edges to back toward the dish, but moves past it. He looks around for a moment and then picks up a stick. With it, he tentatively lifts the dead body of a snake. He drops it and the tail rattles. The lights go down on that side of the stage and the focus returns to the campfire.
Hank: Well you can pretty much guess that word started to get around, at that point. Everyone knew what had happen. The tried to console to caretaker, but he wasn't really seen around much. People said he had flown the coop for a city farther south others said he worked the night shift now; so as he wouldn't have to deal with the kids or their neglectful counselors.
The lights come up on the otherside of the stage and a group of counselors, David included, walks out laugh and joking.
Hank: Now a year past, like birds flyin' back North, the counselors returned to Mox. The hadn't forgotten the caretaker orhis “dag”, but they didn't discuss it either. Everything set itself to rights more or less.
The crowd evaporates and David stands on stage, his smile in place for a moment. The lights dim to indicate darkness. He begins to walk and a man in a jumper, face obscured, bumps into him. He stands for a moment and looks back, shocked and confused.
Hank: Then strange things started to happen.
The lights go down on the campfire.
David turns and a set of bunk beds roll out. He sits and yawns. Finally he lays down to bed. Lights go dark and a sheet is unrolled from the top of the stage. Cricket and other night time noises play.
Hank: It started on the first night, with his first cabin of campers. Dave went to sleep and he had a dream.
A crimson light begins to shine, pulling a silhouette of the bunk bed onto the sheet. As he lays there, there is the sound of giggling and running feet. Whispers. The red light fades almost to darkness. Suddenly it returns and a figure of a boy is seen standing over David. The lights flash white and David's silhouette sits up in bed, gasping. The boy is gone.
Hank: Now, David was...uh...disconcerted, out of wack I 'spose; to say the least.
Mark: Did it happen again?
Hank: Settle down, now; I'm getting to it man.
Hank: So anyways, the next day, he's a wreck right? But he gets through it, just hustles and bustles his way about. He is beat.
Here again, the silhouette of David walks to the bunk and lays down in it. He rolls over on his side and stops moving. Slowly, the red light begins to shine. It grows brighter and brighter, until the shadows displayed in hard lines instead of amorphous blobs. It recedes again, the stage becoming almost pictch black. Suddenly it opens up, two figures now pictured. David awakes with a shout.
The lights fade. The campfire is illuminated. The lights so low one can only make out faces.
Hank: So this continued for the next few days, driving David to the point of madness. He could barely function. The other counselors thought him ill and picked up the slack with raised eyebrows and hushed whispers. Finally the week dwindled. David, having only slept a handfull of hours in the past few days, could no longer care what became of him in his dreams. He wanted only to rest peacefully for a few moments at least.
Silhouetted again, David meanders to his bed. He falls into it and rolls over carelessly. From there things fade to an eerie black. Everything seems alright and that he will be able to sleep peacefully this night. The pause draws out. Hereagain, the red light begins, slowly, to shine. The forms of a crowd of children stand before David.
All at once, the curtain comes up. The lights wink out and a slam is heard. The red light begins to shine again, this time illuminating David and another figure on stage. It is taller and broader. As the lights slowly draw up, the caretaker's worn face comes into view. It is dirty and disfigured, but still recognizable. He smiles greasily at David. He turns and walks a few steps, turning back to look at David. There is a sound of childrens laughter and footsteps. Then the caretaker walks away; and as the lights fade, David is shown walking after him.
Hank: And he was never seen or heard from again!
The campfire is the center of attention now, if only for a moment. All of the hikers/actors look into the fire and seem to contemplate.
Lights go down.
Act 2 Scene 1
Monty is in the middle of a crowded room. She is moving through people. She wears the black workout pants and a hooded sweatshirt. Joline, in the white top, stops her.
Joline: Are you going to the party?
Monty: Sure, I guess.
Joline: You HAVE to!
Monty: I know, but I just don't...uh...i don't know...
Joline: Is it about (she puts up her fingers and hooks them) “Hank”?
Monty: I guess. I just don't really want to deal with him, right now; what with everything happening so fast, y'know?
Joline: What's going on?
Monty: Well, I got an offer from a playhouse...
Joline: (Screams) Which one!
Monty motions at Joline to draw her over and then whispers in her ear. Joline squeals a second time and looks at her. Her face sobers.
Joline: This is it! I'm so glad it is finally happening for you!
Monty: Thank you, it means a lot. I'm just really nervous 'cause I'm supposed to be meeting the rep tomorrow...

Misunderstandsalot

A skit I wrote!


Misunderstands-A-Lot by Ed Chaney
Setting: A small coffee shop with two employees handling the morning traffic.
View: In front of the counter, slightly up so you can see the cold bar but the counter in front of the espresso machines is obscured.
A bell on the door rings. A customer walks up to the counter.
Barista 1: Hey sir! What can we get for you today?
Customer: I just need a large latte.
Barista 1: Sure thing! (Turns to his right, the espresso machines, and shouts) Can I get a large latte!
Another Barista appears.
Barista 2: Okie Dokie.
Barista 2 begins to jostle with the cold bar, pulling a blender off a rack and filling it.
Barista 1 hands the customer his change and turns around, frowning.
Barista 1: What are you doing dude?
Barista 2: What?
Barista 1: I asked for a latte.
Barista 2: (Visibly confused) What? Why?
Barista 1: A latte? I need it for the customer.
Barista 2: (Looks dumbfounded) .....
Barista 1 shrugs and looks irritated. He turns to the machines. (SFX: Thousands of spoons clinking) After ten seconds, far too short a time, he hands the customer his drink, giving a big smile.
Barista 1: Thank you sir!
He turns to the second barista, annoyed.
Barista 1: Put that away!
Barista 2 sets it down and moves out of the shot. A bell rings and another customer advances.
Customer 2: Could I get a small mocha with whip please.
Barista 1: (Eerily perky) Sure thing ma'am! Anything else for you today?
Customer 2: No thank you.
Barista 1: (Calls) Could I get a small mocha with whip please!
Barista 2 runs out and slips on the floor, he pulls the chai container down on top of himself. He stands up completely clean and hair in place. He turns to the cold bar again and starts to grab juices and pump syrups.
Barista 1 finishes the transaction and turns around, looks at the floor and then at the second employee. He comes up beside him and grabs the juice containers.
Barista 1: (Stage Whisper) What the hell man?
Barista 2: (Turns toward Barista 1) What?
Barista 1; (Visibly pissed) What the hell is all this? What are you making? I said a MOCHA, what are you retarded?
Barista 2: (Confused again) What? Why?
Barista 1 pulls the barista 2 over and pushes him towards the back, stage right.
Barista 1: Get a mop!
The first barista turns and goes through the same routine, handing out the drink instantaneously. Barista 2 walks out with a dust pan. Scene Closes.
Setting: Same coffee shop, but much dimmer, indicating night time. The same two baristas are still at the counter, cleaning up to get ready to close. Why they were there all freakin day, I have no idea.
Barista 1: (Moving mixers and wiping with a towel. Looks haggard and tired.) Dude, could you get me some ice?
Barista 2 runs full speed from stage left to stage right, behind the first barista. He appears a moment later with a red container of gasoline.
Barista 2: Here you go!
Barista 1 turns and looks at barista 2, who has his arms outstretched, holding the container out. He drops it on the floor in front of the first barista.
Barista 1: What the fuck!?
Barista 2 turns toward the front counter, looking out into the camera for is speech.
Barista 2: Sorry! I didn't understand!!! Guess you could say I misunderstand- a-
Before the second barista can finish, the first pulls a pistol from his apron, which, conceivably, has been there the entire day for no particular reason. He shoots the second in the leg. The second screams and falls to the floor, out of view.
Barista 2: WHAT! WHY!!!
Barista 1 fires again. Another loud shriek. barista 2 continues to shriek, oscillating between loud and soft. Barista 1 walks over and points the gun, aiming most likely for the head. His face is grim and set. The gun is turned sideways.
Barista 2: I DON'T UNDERSTAND!!! WHY!!!
Barista 1 plugs the second, standing there for a moment. He sighs and turns to face the camera, his shoulders slumped, dramatically preparing for a speech of his own. The shot zooms in to capture is care worn face. He closes his eyes and breathes deep for a moment.
Then the second barista jumps up from no where and bites the side of the first's face. He is transfigured and is obviously a vampire due to the dark shadows about the eyes and cheeks and glowing red eyes. And gigantic fangs. Those too.
He begins to drain the life from the first barista, the side of the man's face wrinkling as the blood is taken. Finally, the second barista lets go and the first falls to the floor, dead. He turns and looks towards the door. The shot changes to show seven figures in black robes and hoods. One gestures to the barista. He climbs over the counter and runs out to them.
The shot shows the front of the counter again, as it did at the beginning. It is still and silent for a moment, then the bell on the door rings and the door is heard closing.
Barista 2: (Echoing whisper from far away) Why me?
The shot changes and shows the first barista's face. The face is deformed and dead. Then the eyes open
The next shot shows a building on fire and the barista walking out, completely decked out in leather (complete with duster a la gay Matrix fans). He saunters off dramatically, pausing to grab a cup of coffee left on a table. He pours it out and then crushes it, his face a mask of rage and anger. He then throws it away in a trash can and continues to saunter, duster billowing.
The End smacks onto the screen in bright, hazard yellow letters and the credits begin to roll to the soundtrack of “One Love” by Bob Marley.
After the credits the shot is dark. Then it shows a backyard. Barista 1 is shown standing over a decapitated weiner dog. The shot moves to over his shoulder.
Unknown teen: (From a distance?) What?
Barista 1 turns quickly, his face covered in weiner dog blood.
End.

I Shot Off My Dick

A short vignette I originally wrote due to a text from Lucas. I sent this to him and he made "revisions". Maybe I'll post that one someday.


Oops, I Shot Off My by Ed Chaney
“For the sake of comedic timing, and to add great enthusiasm to the central theme of the play, the following contains no periods”
A House Party
Max: (speaking to Jean) Well you know, that is the thing about London
Jean: What is?
Max: Well, I guess, mostly, it just sort of is what it is
Jean: (slightly stunned) What is what 'what' is?
Max: It's too hard to enunciate, it's more of a general feeling of the places
Jean: Places?
Max: Yeah, like New York and Los Angeles
Sonya: (Tuning into the conversation) What about New York and LA?
Max: (subdued by the attention, speaks flabbergasted) It is impossible to explain, you will just have to go there and see for yourself
Sonya: Well that's not much of a story is it?
Jean: Well I don't think it was much of a story to start with
Sonya: But there was a story?
Jean: Oh yes
Max: It was about this time I
Sonya: Wait wait wait, I already heard the ending, and it was terrible, why would you start it again
Max: Because you, you know, seemed interested
Sonya: I was, but not in a story that ends in that sort of manner I mean that was completely unsatisfactory It was like a run-on sentence that got so long you couldn't manage it so you slapped a
Max: Hold up! I had an ending, it just wasn't a zinger is all
Sonya: Oh yeah? Well it wasn't necessarily an arthouse ending either There were no shots of still pools or light shifting through leaves, were there?
Jean: It's like the end of Stephen King's It
Sonya: Or a poop that doesn't stay together
Jean: C-Sections
Sonya: Snakes
Max: (Pauses)
Jake: (Just walking up) I hate that, don't you?
They all turn to look at him
Jean: What?
Jake: I'm sorry?
Max: You were hating something
Jake: Why yes, yes I was
Sonya: Jake you old dog, not railing on the Food and Drug Administration for their treatment of farmers again are you?
Jake: (Laughing) Still treating important issues as jokes I see
Max: (laughing along) I hate that, don't you dear?
Jean: Yes, yes I do
Jake: (Looking over and arching an eyebrow) And what, praytell, you hate my dear boy?
Max: Private or inside humor In fact, Sonya, I believe we were just discussing this
Sonya: Were we?
Max: Yes, see you came in at the end of my story and discounted it based on the criteria of my conclusion, which was flat and malformed I on the other hand have chosen to reject your ending, the punchline of an invisible allusion or anecdote, because I LACK an account or accounts wherein you have made comedic fodder from personal or important beliefs or opinions
Sonya: You believe you have just cause?
Jean: I do, I second him on the grounds that I too, did not enjoy that introductory tease I feel that it excluded both I and Max because we are not so acquainted as you and him.
Jean: (To Max) Just like in Paris!
Sonya: (To Jean) Or like that conversation we had earlier
Jean: Just like that
Jake: (With a slight, but sincere bow) Well then, my apologies
Sonya: (Looking hastily at Max) We were just discussing the pros and cons of a good ending
Jake: (With a chuckle) Can there be such a thing as a 'con' to a good and proper ending?
They sit in contemplative silence
Jake: Ah, maybe there can
They look to him
Jake: Let me show you
He stands back and holds his arms outstretched to Sonya
Jake: Oh Mildred, my sweet and beautiful I cry your mercy as I am a torn and broken man Though oft in my journey to reach you I have wish and dreamed of this moment, I am not whole as I once was
Jake looks at his groin Sony puts her hand to her mouth
Jake: You know I have traveled far and long to reach you here in the house of you birth, for one and one reason alone: to ask for you hand in marriage But, in my haste and struggle to return to you, I lost that which could have been most useful to you in your present state I pray your forgiveness What say you?
Jake leans his head on Sonya's thigh She puts her hand to the crown of his head
Sonya: (Whispered) I do
The others clap
Jake: You perceive my meaning then?
Jean: While the ending is emotionally arresting, it is too tied to the rest of the plot and therefore does not stand alone as necessarily good without it
Max: I guess I do, but I feel the distinction must be made by throwing out the ideas of 'good' or 'bad' as they do not allocate the proper meaning in our trial of endings I think better terms would be satisfactory or unsatisfactory, as they convey more fully the standard we are looking for
All: Agreed
Alexander: Hello, all I was going out for more beer and spirits and wondered if any of you
Alexander gestures for beer money
Jake: Unsatisfactory
Jean: Why?
Jake: (Instructing with his finger) You see, Alexander, by his mere sentence or so, has given us substantial plot (looking to Alexander) I assume you noticed we were running out or someone said something, the hostess
Alexander: This is my apartment!?
Jake: Yes of course it is chap Thanks for the invite, by the way
The others murmur their thanks
Alexander: But you've just told me my story was unsatisfactory!
Max: I think it was a matter of opinion more than anything
Sonya: Why?
Max: Because although it sort of just ended, it was more of what was included in that ending than the actually ending itself that led to its abrupt disqualification
Jake: Oh yeah?
Max: You don't have any cash on you do you?
Jake: (Laughing) Not a dime! Very clever
Alexander stands there impatiently
Jean: But does that mean that a good story with a controversial ending could therefore belong to the unsatisfactory category?
Max: (chuckles) It seems so
Sonya: So really, the only thing that can make a anything at all good or important or lovely is a satisfactory story with a satisfactory ending
Jake: (nods) The only thing, yes
Alexander: That's ridiculous! Do you and I live in the best of all possible worlds perhaps?
Max: (smoking a pipe he has pulled from his pocket) Are we dabbling into the existential perhaps?
Alexander: (Shaking his head) Not at all, this is simply are relative matter. The idea of unsatisfactory or satisfactory can be changed on a whim due to the opinion of another
Jake opens his mouth, a pipe has appeared in his hand as well
Alexander: You can't say what story is one or the other because to you it may seem terrible but to another, it might be genius
Jean: (Now with a pipe) One man's trash is another man's
Alexander: The truth is, no story has a-a perfect plot and perfect ending
Sonya: (Pointing with her pipe) Watchmen
Alexander: But even that dabbles in imperfection as Mad Max came out in 1979 and Watchmen was released in '85
Max: So?
Alexander: So the end of the scene in which Rorshach kills the child kidnapper, was stolen or homaged from Mad Max
Jake: Refresh me on the power points of the two scenes
Alexander: It doesn't completely matter, the punchline is the guy has a choice to either survive by sawing off his own leg or arm or die
Jean: Like in Saw!
Alexander: There again, reinforcing my point
They all look to Alexander for explanation
Alexander: Well, because of Saw, that's at least three times that set up has been used So then, it must have faded in the shock value or thrill it can provide Either because of repetition or because the audience has become numb to the situation it presents Like a story that has been told too many times
Jean and Max look at one another
Alexander: But then, because it is an homage and then there is an homage to the homage, if you don't know or know of the original you are left out of the loop while everyone's laughing Like a private joke or saying
Jake and Sonya exchange glances
Alexander: The fact of the matter is that we have to choice to make something good or bad, satisfactory or otherwise We can choose to enjoy something and no matter what the criterion or circle of thought, nothing will change it The fruit picked versus the fruit wished for
They all sit quietly for a moment, sipping at their tea cups
Jake: (looking around) Well I don't agree
Sonya: (standing) Neither do I!
Max: Here here
Jean: Let's take vote
Alexander: (Shouting) Well it's my house and if you won't cough up beer money you can get the hell out!
The are unsanctimoniously ejected from the party, all the while Alexander shouts:
Alexander: Stupid elitist twats! Cheap hambone intellectual riff raff!
The End.

Hustle Me Faithful

Finished play. Rather short and I'm sorry for all the swearing.


Hustle Me Faithful
by Ed Chaney
Act 1
Scene 1
Narrator (Sounds like the twilight zone): Picture if you will, a stage.
A light falls on an empty stage.
Narrator: And on that stage there is a man and woman.
A couple clearly bedecked in wedding garb, her face hidden behind a veil, stroll to their positions facing one another.
Narrator: Before them there stands a priest, or rabbi, or pastor. A man of the cloth, G-d clearly before him and about him.
A man in black steps from the wings and stands downstage from the couple. He smiles on as they look into each others eyes. Emotion plays at the scene. The man smiling down at the woman, his love as apparent as the sun at noon. In unison they look to the pastor.
He smiles the smile of a man who has lived a long life. A man who has seen these happy couples and their remnants. He sees them now as he hopes they will always be: together.
Pastor: Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?
Woman: I do.
The pastor nods and turns to the man. He looks at the boy as if he would like to reach out a hand and touch the man's shoulder. The look is fatherly in all manners of the metaphor.
Pastor: Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?
Man: (After a moment, whispered) I do.
His eyes gleam and the pastor raises his hands in prayer and supplication. He then joins the couples hands and draws a deep breath.
And pauses
Narrator: Now, as doth I proclaim it, I speak it into being/
That Love is like a Time Machine,
and ever are we leaving.
Pastor: I do now marry you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; by the power vested in me by this our great state of California. (He looks on at them and speaks dramatically) I now pronounce you (beat) man and wife. You may kiss the bride.
Lights fall.
Scene 2
SFX: Stomping, running feet.
SFX: Car tires screeching
SFX: Cheering
SFX: Plane taking off
Stewardess voice: Welcome to Hawaii!
SFX: Doors slamming
SFX: Passionate moans which fade to the sound of the ocean.
Lights go up.
The stage has a couch and some chairs, it is separated as to indicate a bedroom, a living room, and a veranda. The woman is on the phone in the bedroom talking adamantly, while the man sits on the couch thumbing through a paper back book. Light is dim in the bedroom and the woman's face is obscured.
The man gets up as the woman laughs, carefully placing the book on the table. He walks out to the veranda and sits in a armchair, setting his feet up on the rail or banister.
Woman: (Laughs, then speaks in a hushed whisper) I know, right! But listen, it lasted SO long! It was unbelievable! I had no idea that you could....you know...DO that! (More laughter)
The man sits and lights a cigarette. He looks out onto imaginary white sand and crystal blue ocean. His face is tranquil and his eyes seem to twinkle. All the lights go down except for a spotlight on him.
Lights go down
Scene 3
Rap voice: REWIND!
SFX: Tape rewinding
SFX: Loud synth-pop dance music begins, super upbeat. Continues as the scene begins.
Jake, dressed in normal college dude clothes wanders around the stage, looking for a seat. He finally sets his bag on the table. (Music goes down) The bag makes a shuffling noise. (SFX: SHHHH!) He finally slides into the chair and pulls out a book. He reads intently, seemingly enraptured, when a girl with flaming red hair jumps out of no where and sits beside him. He looks up at her stunned and then looks around waiting for the 'Shhh'. Nothing happens and he turns sheepishly back to his book.
She pulls open her bag (SFX: Pots falling from the sky) and pulls out a small paperback. He looks over and she smiles at him. He turns slightly away from her and looks around.
She leans over to look at what he's reading. He turns his body more away from her. His chair creaks (SFX: small SHHH). His shoulders slump comically as she continues to lean. Finally she is completely out of her seat when he turns to face her. Their faces come very close to each other.
(In unison)
Jake: Can I help you?
Toby: What book are you reading?
SFX: Surround sound shooshing.
Toby looks unperturbed.
Jake: (awkward) It's just a Stephen King novel...
Toby: Ahhh, I see...(Shrugs and implies his literary naivete)
Jake: What's wrong with Tommyknockers?
Toby: (Shrugs again) Nothing, nothing. Good book from what I've heard.
She turns back to her book, feigning disinterest. He looks at her, staring at her swirling corona of hair. She shifts her body away from him, mocking the same manner in which he had her.
Jake: What do you got there?
Toby: Nothing!
Jake: What d'you mean 'Nothing'? That is a book. (Points)
Toby: Mmmm... Well, yes, but nevermind that. Your name is Jake, right?
Jake: (bewildered) Am I being subpoenaed?
Toby: I've come from the future to tell you that someday, you and I will have to re-sire the entire human race, so please, for the love of God, STOP masturbating.
Jake: (laughs. SFX: SHOOSH) Okie dokie. Well that explains it then...
Toby: (Narrows eyes) What.
Jake: Nothing, nothing.
She gets up as suddenly as she came and he stands up, ready to follow, when Stern walks out and spots him. He waves and begins to saunter over. Jake begins to call after her.
Jake: (Loud stage whisper) At least tell me your name!
Jake drops his hands and turns back to the table.
Stern: (Stage whisper) Hey man!
Jake looks past him for a moment and then steps back towards his table.
Jake: Hey dude...listen, (points the direction in which Toby exited) do you know her?
Stern glances over his shoulder and shrugs.
Stern: Dunno. You would imagine I wouldn't be able to miss her with hair like that, eh?
Jake: Yeah...
Stern: But hey! (SFX: Shooshing. Stern ignores this) There's a party tonight at Liza's.
Jake: What time?
Stern: 'Round 8ish, I suspect.
Jake: Whose all gonna be there?
Stern: Same 'ole, same 'ole. Although, there is this one chick, Ashley, I have a Political Science class with her. (Motions with eye brows, hands cupping the air chest) Woo! She is a fox.
Jake: Sounds cool, dude. I'm down.
Stern: Sick...So what happened with the Sweettooth look-a-like?
Jake: She just CAME IN and SAT DOWN and then she just...sorta...left. And thus, I am sexual aroused and confused in the most irritating of fashions.
Jake looks again at the way she left.
Stern: Well we will just have to find you some medication for that sort of thing. I hear electro shock therapy can work wonders for the sexually repressed.
Jake turns and gives Stern the finger and they laugh.
They stand there for a moment looking at one another. The smiles on their faces remain for a few moments. Then the corners begin to droop a bit as the moment lingers on long past the cut of the scene.
Lights go down.
Scene 4
Scene changes to a room with a full length mirror. A spotlight comes on showing Jake standing before it in his tux. His attitude and excited/nervous demeanor indicate that this is just before the wedding ceremony. He is constantly brushing and pulling at different sections of his outfit, but ultimately changing nothing.
The stage lights come up and reveal that Stern lounging behind him. He is rocked back in a chair, leaning against the wall. He looks on at Jake appraisingly.
Stern: Not a bad fit, brah.
Jake doesn't speak, but very slowly smooths down the front of his suit. He turns about and looks at Stern. His eyes are twinkling, seemingly near tears.
Stern: You'll do just fine, man, nothing to worry about! You love her right?
Jake: Yes, yes I do.
Jake smiles at Stern and they laugh at what life has made them. Stern shakes his head and rocks back and forth in the chair. Jake stands and watches him. Stern stares into space.
Stern: You gonna be alright, there, puss-in-boots? Gonna be able to make it without the Monkey King?
Jake shakes his head and smiles, letting out a heavy sigh. With it, all of the tension seems to flood out of him. He turns back to the mirror and looks at himself.
Jake: Of course.
Lights go down.
Scene 5
SFX: Men shouting while they play football
SFX: Assorted grunts and cat-calls
SFX: Whistle blows
SFX: Girls talking in hallways
Lights go up as a football sails across the stage.
Stern: HEADS UP!
SFX: Smack!
Jake catches the football (or drops it depending on the actors physical prowess). He flips it about in his hand 'til the laces are under his fingers and tosses it back. Stern makes an easy grab of it.
Stern: C'mon! Put some muscle into it library troll!
Jake: Hey man!
Catches it and whips it as hard as he can, throwing it off stage.
SFX: Woman screeching and then cursing
Ball comes flying at Jake and hits him. He shouts with surprise and shock, not only at the pain, but also at the quarterback.
Toby: Teach you a little somethin', smart guy.
Jake looks at her flabbergasted as she stands triumphant, now a blond. Stern looks bored.
Stern: Will you get the ball, book stalker?
Jake: One sec man. (He turns to Toby) Hey! Toby! Long time, no see.
Stern turns and paces off stage, clearly annoyed.
Toby: Ha! That's so funny, I forgot to laugh.
Jake: Wow degenerating to the 6th grade in a matter of moments, incredible.
Toby: Shut it fat head. (She leaps over and smooches him)
Jake: So... What's on for tonight?
Jake puts is arm around her shoulders in an easy manner. They walk in the style and fashion of a couple of half a year or so.
Toby: Well, here are the options: Salsa dancing (Music cues. SFX: Blaring Salsa music. Jake and Toby stop midstep until it subsides), go to Jaime's house party (Music cues again. SFX: Loud punk music, fast drums, incoherent singer, etc...Both stay posed until it ends), or just go surfing like usual (Music cues SFX: Surfer tunes a la Dick Dale. Same thing).
Jake turns his head to her's.
Jake: What do you want to do?
Toby: I'm really up for any of them.
Jake: Would you be up for all of them?
Toby: We'd have to kick start a montage, but I think I could manage it. (Both laugh)
Jake: Hey! I've been meaning to ask, (pensively) what are you doing this next semester? Like what are you planning for the fall?
Toby: What do you mean?
Jake: (talks quicker) Well, I know you were offered that fellowship up in Washington, and I have another year or so before I can even begin to think about leaving the state.
Toby: Jake...
Jake: I know, I know. I just wanted to talk it over. I don't want to feel like I'm holding you back...
Toby: (Pulls Jake's face to hers) I know, and that's what I love about you. Don't worry. I'm sure we can find a way to figure this thing out.
Jake turns her slowly to him and embraces her as the mood of the scene shifts to a much more somber tone. He holds her for a moment and kisses her softly. They look into one another's eyes and the lights go down.
Scene 6
Lights come up as the stage is set back up in the “Library” format.
Jake is sitting at a table by himself. He has a book in hand and keeps twitching about nervously. He crosses and uncrosses his legs. He folds his arms and then tries to keep them folded and scratch his nose. He finally lets out a long sigh and reaches for his book. He picks it up and reads intently for a few moments, then sets it back down quickly. He looks around and sets his head upon the table.
The instant it's down, Toby appears. She quietly sneaks over and sits beside him, her hair is hot pink. He takes no notice. She leans over him, looking over him, until finally she puts her face next to his ear.
Toby: (Whisper) Hey!
Jake shoots up in his seat and his chair falls back comically. (SFX: Shooshing from all sides) He grabs it and with a loud clatter resumes his seat. She laughs quietly to herself. He turns red in his seat and looks about quickly. She stops for a moment and looks at him, and he at her, then she snorts and resumes her laughter.
Toby: (Finally. Sighs and wipes at her face) Hey nonny nonny Frodo...
Jake: (He leans toward her. Jokingly) Those...are two completely different references!
Toby looks at him deeply and smirks.
Toby: What's that you're reading, chum?
Again she seems to imply some the literary equivalent of an opiate for the masses. He slips the book away from her, face down. She leans toward him as he does. Their eyes meet one another and the moment begins to ripen with sexual tension. She slowly slips her hand over his, their eyes never leaving each other. In a quick motion, she relieves him of the book and sits back down in her chair. He remains stunned, but is unable to verbalize it.
Jake: Hey!
Toby: (Dead pan) Huh...Gerald Durrell...My Family And Other Animals... Is it any good?
Jake: Well I've just started it..
Toby: (Flips to dog-eared page) Page 175 of a 301 page novel. It's a hell of a start, kid.
Jake: Well, yeah, I suppose it's pretty good.
Toby: What's it about?
Jake: (Thoughtfully) This kid who lives on an island in Greece with his family. He was a zoologist in real life so he has a really great way of describing the animals on the island. Pretty much an amazing way of describing everything. And his family is nuts...
Toby: Mmm that sounds pretty sweet, friend.
He nods and looks about. She waits expectantly.
Jake: Soooo... What are you reading?
Toby: Well (enthusiastic), now that you ask, I am reading a wonderfully delightful novel by a man named Jean March by the title of Hustle Me Faithful.
Jake: What's it about?
Toby: Well, I would tell you, but first I have to tell if the two of us are friends or not.
Jake:( slightly taken aback) Okay...?
Toby: My theory runs like this: You've heard of those sort of psuedo-response, action oriented questions, right?
Jake: (Has no idea) Sure...
Toby: Well, they idea is: I'm going to tell you a story, and depending on your reaction, to said joke, will define the course of our relationship from here on out. Kahpeesh?
Jake: Okie dokie. Hit me.
Toby: Alrighty. So, there was once a very high mountain, and on that mountain there sat a monastery. The monks in this monastery were a quiet kind sort, careful to mean the prayers they said, but not to over emphasize their own self importance in the relationship between them and G-d.
Jake turns now and rest his elbow on the table to better look at her face as she continues with the story.
Toby: So one day, a bird, a hawk actually, flies into the monasteries bell tower and runs into a pillar, breaking its wing. The monks find it up there and decided unanimously that it must be raise back to its former health and vigor. SO, they choose a monk from among there number who is willing enough and add the hawk to his list of daily chores. Everyday he checks the bird and changes the bandages, gives it food or water, catches mice for it to have as treats. Later, when it is healthier, he helps it as it tries to fly or hunt. Now, another monk is also selected to watch over the bird while it is on the mend. He sleeps in the room that the bird is kept in, making sure it does not feel lonely or hurt itself in its sleep. Now, of the two monks, the second falls in love with the bird. He finds its wings majestic and beautiful. He sees its hooked beak and flashing eyes and cannot help but be filled with emotion.
She sets her hands on the table and looks into Jake's face.
Toby: Now, who, in your opinion, loves the bird more? The man who physically cares for the animal or the one who watches over it?
Jake sits back and looks at his hands. He appears deep in thought, contemplating the story from all the conceivable angles. He also wonders to himself what they right answer is, as it pertains to the woman sitting beside him.
Jake: The man who cares for the bird.
Toby looks at him and nods. She then gets up and grabs her backpack.
Jake: What!? I'm sorry? Was that not the right one? Wha...
She comes over to him and holds his hand for a moment, before walking away.
Jake: Wait! What's your name!?
She disappears and he sits back down heavily. He blinks and opens his palm. A scrap of paper sits on top of his hand. His face brightens and a grin grows into a smile. He looks overjoyed and triumphant.
Down come the lights
Scene 7
SFX: Door slamming, stomping feet
Light come up and Jake is sitting on a couch, remote in his hand. Stern enters and stops for a moment to look at Jake. He looks flustered and irritated.
Stern: How you put up with that girl of yours, I will never know.
Jake: (Bewildered) What's up man? What happened?
Stern: (Spreads hands) Nothing happened! I took her home just like you asked me!
Jake: Slow down dude, have a seat, chill! I just wanna know why you are all... (waves hand about in the air).
Stern: I took her home, right? Just doing her a favor. No! Not even that, doin YOU a favor.
He paces for a moment, then moves past Jake.
Stern: (Stage whisper) Fucking ridiculous...
Jake watches him go and shakes his head.
Lights go down
Scene 8
SFX: shoes walking on sidewalks
SFX: wind rustling leaves
SFX: Honking
Lights come up.
Jake and Stern are walking down the sidewalk. They are wearing heavy jackets and scarves indicating a different season and occasion from the previous scene.
Stern: All I'm saying, is you have to call her.
Jake opens his mouth while shaking his head.
Stern: What's the worst that can happen? So you go out with her and she turns out to be a supermodel slash sex maniac billionairess looking for a rebound. She's been with so many rich supermodel-y types, that NOW all she wants is a Hugh Grant-esque character, with whom she can cuddle and talk about books with.
Jake's mouth remains open and he looks at Stern as if Sterns head has been replaced with that of small, rabid, fruit-eating monkey.
Stern: Worst case scenery, I promise. Just look at Ashley and me.
Jake: Ashley and I.
Stern: What?
Jake: It's Ashley and I. That's the grammatically correct way of saying it.
Stern: (Looks like he is addressing a child of two. Bends at the waist and talks in a small sweet voice, stressing the 'w's, a la Dr. Cox) Well we would say 'Just look at I', now would we?
Jake: (Rolls his eyes and makes a noise in his throat) Ugh. You're right...
Stern: About everything. Don't forget it either.
Jake: (Continues previous subject) I don't know. She's just SO pretty and smart and she's got that hair...
Stern places a hand on Jake's chest, stopping him.
Stern: Dear Lord! You've got it bad! (He begins to nod, as if he has struck the nail on the head) Your in...(Physically struggles with the word) Loooooove!
Jake: Go home! Go home! We're done for the day doctor, done!
They laugh and continue their jaunt about the stage.
Jake: Rather circular sidewalk, wouldn't you say?
Stern: The thing with Ashley, was that it fell into place right off. You were there, you remember, right?
Jake: Yes, yes. You cut a swathe across the dance floor, peering into her soul, nothing about the room accept you or her.
Stern: (Absentmindedly) Yep.
Jake: You finally reached her, took her hand in yours, press her delicate fingers to your lips. Her eyes locked in a looks so deep it could only be love or revenge. She pulled you to her, her lips pouted, ready. She turned your head, pressing her breast against your shoulder as she whispered sensually in your ear...
Stern: Yes!
Jake: (Much less sensuous) 'Whose your friend?'
Stern punches Jake in the arm and they laugh again. The turn to walk off stage.
Stern: If you can ever get a date with a chick, I will laugh my self into a coma. Now, come on, I'll buy you a pop, kiddo.
Jake: (Mock appreciatively) Oh you!
They exit the stage and the lights go down.
Scene 9
Lights come up on a replication of the chapel scene. The pastor is absent and the spotlight shines on the couple. The rest of the stage is dark (So it can be set up for the following scene). They look into each other's eyes and he smiles. The scene radiants with the warmth and love from the scene before it. (SFX: Harpsichord strumming) He takes her hand.
Jake: I do.
Lights go down.
Scene 10
Stern: (through the overheads or monitors, a voice in the darkness) You gonna be alright, there?
Jake: (Loud angry shouting, SFX: smashing wood, breaking glass) Damnit! Why! How could you!!!
Light come up on Jake as he stands stage left. Furniture is overturned in the room about him and he is red faced and angry. He is covered with sweat and his clothes are in disarray. He begins screaming and shouting and throwing things about the room. It cannot be seen whether or not he is laughing or crying, but tears run down his face. He throws things about, helter skelter, the actor involved working up a fury. Finally he breaks down into tears and sobs.
Jake: (Moans) W-W-Why...
He stands and rights himself, sniffling and breathing out with great effort to calm himself. He moves upstage and looks out on the audience. His face is sweating and red, tears lining his cheeks and brimming at his eyes.
He stands and just looks out, meeting the eyes of the audience, looking this way and that.
Finally, the lights come down.
End of Act 1
Intermission
Act 2
Scene 1
SFX: Creaking boards
SFX: Light breeze
Spotlight on Jake.
Jake sits again in the chair out on the veranda, as before. There is some light chatter in the background, indicating that his wife is still on the phone and that he is still on his honeymoon. That all that has occurred, thus far, in the play, has been but a moment in his minds eye.
He sits and smokes, looking out, as the spotlight winks out.
Light come back up.
Jake, Toby, and Stern are sitting on a couch, presumably in the fashion of an apartment. The are watching a movie and different colored lights strobe on and off to denote it on their faces.
SFX: Phone ringing
Jake looks to Stern. Stern looks around at the wall and the floor, clearly ignoring Jake. Finally, Jake rolls out from the couch and walks to the still ringing phone. He picks it up.
Jake: Hello.
Stern leans over to Toby. He whispers something and points at the screen. She giggles.
Jake: Yes, I am he. What can I...
Stern continues to talk in her ear. She puts her hand over her mouth to cover her snickers. He points and makes wild, abstract gestures with his hands. She begins to double over.
Jake: Yes... of course. I'll be there in a few. Yeah, thank you.
Jake hangs up the phone and turns to Stern and Toby. Stern leans back and looks innocently at Jake. Jake walks over and presses a button on the remote, pausing the film.
Jake: I have to go, guys. Hey, can you take her home?
Toby: Where are you going?
Stern: What?
Jake: I have to go to the hospital, I guess my mom had some sort of accident or what-have-you. So I need to go in and see how she is. Do you think you could...?
Stern: (Nodding) Yeah, of course, man. You sure you don't want us to come with you?
Toby: Yeah! Why don't we come help out or visit? I'm sure your ma would enjoy the company.
Jake: It'll have to be another time. I need to check on her first, y'know?
They nod at him. He goes and grabs his coat, throwing it about his shoulders quickly.
Jake: Thanks guys!
Toby gets up and goes to the door with Jake.
Toby: (Stage whisper) Let me know how it goes, kay?
She kisses him.
Jake: I'll give you a call tomorrow, kid.
Toby: (As Jake walks out the door) Say hi to her from me!
Toby turns and looks at Stern. He is sitting on the couch. She stands there for a few moments. He turns and looks at her. They lock eyes for a beat.
Lights go down.
Scene 2
Light come on as Jake walks, presumably outside for a smoke.
SFX: Car noises.
SFX: automated door opening and closing
The pastor steps out onto the sidewalk as Jake lights a cigarette. He blows the smoke out and looks over at the pastor.
Pastor: Hey Jake.
Jake: Aya.
The stand in silence for a moment, before the pastor bends and sits on the curb. Jake continues to stand and look out, his hands shake noticeably for a moment.
Pastor: You goin back in there tonight?
Jake: Aya.
The pastor nods and looks down at his hands.
Pastor: You mind if I bum a smoke off you?
Jake hands him the pack.
Jake: Didn't know you smoked, friar.
Pastor: Every now and then. 'is not for me, for the monkey.
Jake: Ah ha.
The pastor puts the cigarette in his mouth and pulls a book of matches from a breast pocket. He lights one and the wind blows it out. He takes the cigarette from his mouth and puts it behind his ear. Jake watches this.
Pastor: Not tonight, I guess.
Jake: God's will?
Pastor: (Amiably) You know it.
They look forward again, the moment less tense.
Pastor: It's lookin real bad in there, Jake.
Jake's hand stops before his mouth. His cigarette is perched between his lips. Smoke rolls up from it as it sits and smolders. The pastor shakes his head and Jake pulls the cigarette out of his mouth. He sets it on the ground and taps it out with his shoe.
Jake: Toby, she hates that I smoke. (Jokingly) Said I should take up long distance jogging for a change of pace.
The pastor looks up at him, looks for a second and smiles.
Pastor: Gotta feed the monkey, eh?
Jake: Guess so, friar, guess so.
Jake spins on his heel, looks back towards the door.
Jake: You comin back in? You're welcome to it as long as you don't plan on hitting on the nurses.
The pastor laughs.
Pastor: Yeah, I'll be in in a second. I just need a moment alone with the Lord.
Jake: (Sadly) Don't we all, friar, don't we all.
Lights go down.
Scene 3
SFX: Pop music
SFX: Cafe sounds
SFX: Clattering and clinking of dishes.
SFX: Espresso shots pulling
Lights come up.
Jake and Toby walk out. (SFX: Door chime) The are covered in coats and shiver slightly. Each clutches a drink. She puts her arms about his waist and he loops an arm around her shoulders. They walk to a bench on the far side of the stage and sit.
Jake: What did you get?
Toby: Hot cocoa with macadamia nut and whipped cream! And you, sir?
Jake: Raspberry mocha.
Toby: Not bad, not bad. I hear a lot of girls drink that.
Jake blows a raspberry at her, spraying her with spittle. She waves her arms haphazardly at him, laughing.
Toby: Stop it! STOP!
Jake: Ahhhh. It's a nice day, kid.
They walk to the bench and sit down. They sip gingerly at their drinks and cup their hands, as if from the cold.
Toby: So... How have you been? You've been pretty busy with all that's been going on.
Jake: (Looks sad for a moment) Yeah, it's been kind of a harrowing couple of weeks.
Toby: You wanna talk about it?
Jake: Nah. Maybe a bit later. It's a nice day. I want to be happy, y'know?
Toby nods and looks down at her cup. Jake is forlorn for a moment before a grin spreads across his face. He turns to Toby, his mannerisms jocular.
Jake: Hey!
Toby: Mmmm?
Jake: You never told me what that book was about?
Toby: The Zombie Survival Guide? It's title seems rather straightforward...
Jake: No, not that one! The other one, the one you told me about in the library.
Toby: (Playfully) You mean The Bell Jar? Well it's all about girls and their problems, like for instance...
Jake: AH! Hustle Me Sidewalks or something...
He searches for the correct phrase, ticking out phrases.
Jake: Hustle Me Fatty, Hustle Me Sideways, Hustle Me Silly Goose...
Toby: Hustle Me Faithful?
Jake: Yep! There we go.
Toby: That was a long time ago, I'm surprised you remembered it.
Jake: (Cocks eyebrow) Mmm?
Toby: Awwww, Alzheimer's.
Jake: Ha ha. (dry)
Toby: (Pats his leg) No really, it's cute. Like having Gramma around.
Jake: (Perches his tongue between his lips) Ooo 'ant uh 'ose uhgin?
Toby: What?
Jake: Nevermind. YOU remember the book right?
Toby: Of course. I never forget a thing.
Jake spreads his hands in a 'Go right ahead' sort of gesture. Then folds his arms across his chest.
Toby: Well...I remember it was a period piece. Something with kings and courts...Unless that was actually Mark Twain...
Jake sighs.
Toby: But I remember the plot! I think it was in Ireland or something. It was about this group of three peasants or rascals or picaresques, what-have-you.
Jake: What was it aboot?
Toby: Well it wasn't so much about what happened as much as the individual characters growth and change.
Jake: Ahhh
Toby: Yeah, I know, right? Might have been better if it was a musical about the music industry, but as it was it was a great book. I was nuts about it for a while.
Jake: I bet.
Toby: It just had this great relationship thing. The group was two guys and a girl and one of the guys was dating the girl in the group; And for the first hundred pages, this the complete norm, and you are sucked into this formatted idea. Then, near the middle, this lid is just blown off and you realize that she, the only “she” involved, ( I think her name was Julian or something) has been in love with the other guy THE ENTIRE time!
Jake: So it was the big twist? A hidden gun?
Toby: Sort of. Yeah! Like that, I guess. And, I don't know, I didn't even think that the sort of love triangle described in the book was anything good or healthy; but for some reason, at that point in my life, I was completely enthralled by it.
Jake: Why, do you think?
Toby: I think because of the way it was written, mostly. The book, up until that point, was relatively tame. (She waves her hands about in a squid-like manner) They had overcome obstacles and hardships, cementing their relationship in the furnace of urban life, etc. But then all of a sudden, this twist, this key, if you will, comes along; and suddenly the whole thing unravels upon itself.
Toby becomes more adamant. She moves close to Jake and gestures as he watches intently.
Toby: It was like this whole group dynamic thing suddenly exploded in your hands and then reformed itself into this distorted chimera. Where once you had this sort of blah adventure novel, now this whole new level of depth was there, an entire lake underneath a pond. It was something I never saw coming so it totally hit me like a semi.
Jake: Wow. That sounds really sick.
Toby: It was really good... I met you!
Jake: Mmmhmm?
Toby: I had forgotten about that until just now, but, in the novel, they have this whole thing about how even in their direst of circumstances, they always have time to chat. Like even as bad as things are, in the bigger picture, it's just another day. It was really funny, like a Three Musketeers type thing. They were always chattin' up some 'broad', whilest escaping or attacking, etc.
Jake: And you were escaping?
Toby: No, I was just sitting in the library, but I became enamored with the ideology of it. SO...
Jake: You came over and chat me up?
Toby: Pretty much.
Jake: That's so romantic, honey, thank you.
Toby: Oh, shut it. It was a really hard thing to do.
Jake: Really?
Toby: Ya, “brah”.
Jake: Pfff, why?
Toby: I don't know! Maybe because you kept leaning away? Maybe because I liked you? Maybe because it's always been hard for me to chat with people I don't know? Anything...Everything!
Jake: Huh. Life.
Toby: (Sighs) Yeah.
Lights go down.
Scene 4
(Loud shouts)
Lights come up.
Hospital sidewalk where Jake talked with the pastor before. Both rush onto the stage. The pastor grabs Jake's arm.
Pastor: (Shouts) Where are you going?
Jake: What the fuck do you want?!
Pastor: I wanna know what the fuck YOU are doing?
Jake: I'm leaving, that's what the FUCK I'm doing!
Pastor: You're gonna leave, while she's up there dying!?
Jake: (Turns his face away. Whispers) I don't care.
Pastor: What?
Jake: (Shouts, close to tears) I don't fucking care!
The pastor pulls Jake back and sets him down on the sidewalk hard.
Pastor: I thought you loved her? Eh? What about that? What about love? You're just going to run away, while she is up there FIGHTING FOR HER FUCKING LIFE?
Jake looks down and begins to shake his head. He covers his head with his arms.
Pastor: Don't give me that. You know better, Jake. You are better Jake!
Pastor looks down at Jake and eases off. He turns away and breaths for a moment. He looks up and blinks quickly for a moment. He closes his eyes for a moment and his face becomes blank.
Jake: She didn't love me, friar, and it reads like a bad paperback novel.
The pastor sighs and turns back. He sits beside Jake on the sidewalk. Jake shakes for a moment, as if from a sob.
Pastor: Of course she does.
Jake: (Shakes his head bitterly) Toby loved Stern. I was just to ignorant to read it.
Pastor: Thats bullshit and you know it.
Jake: (shouts) What the hell was she doing in his car after our fight?
Pastor: I can't answer that question, Jake, you know I can't.
Jake: Exactly.
Pastor: (Growls) Don't you dare, Jake. Not after everything that's happened. You know better.
Jake: (Bitter) Please.
Pastor: What proof do you have, Jake. Tell me that.
Jake opens his mouth, but the Pastor cuts him off.
Pastor: Whose to say that YOU ever loved HER at all?
Jake: What?
Pastor: Or your mother ever loved you?
Jake: What the hell man...
Pastor: Why?
Jake: She raised me, she took care of me, I'm her son for chrissakes!
Pastor: So it's what you do that shows that someone loves another.
Jake: Well...
Pastor: Didn't you and Toby date for four years?
Jake: Get bent, Preach.
Pastor: She kiss you and tell you she loved you? Didn't she hold your hand or talk to you while you cried or didn't cry or were angry or apathetic? Didn't she give you things and share what was personal and important to her?
Jake remains silent. He stares at the ground.
Pastor: In that case, whose to say you ever loved her? Eh? What did you ever do to merit the title “in love”? Maybe it's YOU who doesn't love HER.
Jake: Fuck off Father.
Pastor: Touched a nerve, eh? You can't rant all you want about how she never loved you, but when it's you who continues to kill her, even after everything, no one has the right to tell you 'You never loved her'?
Jake: (Shouts) You know goddam well I ... You knew how I felt! You knew how... How dare you!
Pastor: (Quiet) Do you still love her?
Jake Lays back onto the sidewalk. His hands come up and he rubs at his face.
Jake: What's the point... Where's the justice?
Pastor: You can't let your insecurities and jealousy keep you from love, Jake. The past is important, but when we start to misuse it, when we abuse ourselves and our loved ones by going over each memory looking for double meanings; jumping at shadows; we ruin ourselves.
Jake sighs.
Pastor: Are you willing to make that mistake?
Jake: How can I pretend that nothings happened?
Pastor: Because, as far as you know, nothing has! She left you and she got in a car with Stern. Past that...
Jake: I can only imagine.
Pastor: Alright, I've said my peace and will not speak more on the subject.
Jake stands and looks at the Pastor.
Jake: I don't know what to do, friar.
Pastor: Such is love.
Lights go down.
Scene 5
SFX: Organ playing soulfully.
Pastor: We gather here today (Lights begin to slowly come up on the Pastor, who stands on the stage alone. He is dress in black and his mode is somber) to celebrate the memory of Stern Adams. He will always be a testament to the strength of the human heart; the conviction of a man searching for the right path; and a friend with the charisma to bring the best out of those around him. His death is a tragedy to mar the face of our time.
He takes a deep breath.
Pastor: He left this world on June 22nd, when he lost control of his car. His only passenger, Toby MacIntyre, is still in St. Sophia's General Hospital under intensive care. I mention it, only, to ask for your prayers for her and her fiancée, as her condition is critical. I petition you to exercise that most powerful of spiritual gifts and lift her up to the L-rd.
Resumes former topic.
Pastor:(Clears throat) When a person with the charisma and talent of Stern Adams dies, they seem to make a tear in the heart of the world; as if G-d, Himself, has taken a portion of the fabric of our reality out and we are left only with a view to void. It is on such an opportunity as this, that we take the time peer through to the other side and examine ourselves before the Lord.
Pastor: We close our service today with a moment of silence, not only in memory for our loved ones who are no longer with us; but in reflection. Stern lived his life with love and wonder; joy and mourning; movement and stillness. But, most of all, he loved the Lord and it made him fearless. Let our love let us be the same. Amen.
Lights down.
Scene 6
SFX: Movie playing on a TV
SFX: Munching
SFX: Small talk chattering
Jake: What then?
Lights come up. Apartment set-up, Jake and Toby are sitting on a couch, a TV propped before them. His arm is around the back of the couch and strokes her shoulders; twirls her hair. She sits very close and turns to look at him, their faces inches apart. He watches the screen while he talks, glancing now and then to gage her reaction.
Toby: (Exasperated) I don't know Jake. Everything is going to be fine. I don't see why we have to talk about it.
Jake: I know. It just is bugging me.
Toby: (sympathetic) Why?
She tucks herself into Jakes chest and wraps her arm about him. She looks at the TV as it flickers, its sound turn down to a light muttering.
Jake: I just worry, y'know?
Toby: There's nothing to worry about, you know that.
Jake: Mmm...
Toby: Why don't you trust me with this? (Sadly, lifting her head)
Jake looks away.
Jake: Mmm...
Toby kisses his cheek.
Jake: What if it fades?
Toby stops, one hand still on his cheek. He turns his head and looks away.
Jake: I don't know.
Toby sits very still looking at him. Emotion begins to build in her as she sits. He turns and looks around the room, trying not to look at her.
Jake: I'm sorry, I don't...
He turns to Toby. She looks down and tears begin to fall.
Jake: Toby. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.
Toby: It's out though. I can't not think about it.
Jake pulls her to him and she lets him.
Jake: What do you think?
Toby: What do I think?
She pulls away and looks at Jake. She doesn't make any move to wipe her face.
Toby: Marry me.
Jake: (chokes) What!?
Toby: I can't think of what else will make you trust me. You obviously don't think I can take a year or two at another school in another state...
She pulls away and sits forward on the couch. He sighs and reaches out to rub her back. She ignores it and stares at her feet.
Jake: Tobes...
Toby: (she laughs darkly) Marry me if you don't trust me.
Jake: You know I do.
Toby: Jake, you can't even trust me to go to another school.
Jake: I do, Tobes.
Toby: Whatever.
Jake pulls his hand away and sets it in his lap. He looks down at his hands. Toby sniffs loudly and looks up.
SFX: Door slamming
Stern enters stage right, coming out behind the couch. Toby wipes her face and stands to smile at him.
Toby: Hey Stern, you think I could grab a ride home?
Stern looks around, feeling the tension in the room. He looks at Toby and then at the back of Jakes head.
Stern: Sure, fine. When you wanna go?
Toby: Right now. If it's alright?
Stern: Sure, sure. Everything alright? Jake?
Jake: (Voice clear and controlled. He continues to stare at his lap) Yeah Stern, it's fine.
Stern: (Brightly) Okie Dokie, let's get goin then kiddo!
Toby follows Stern out. Jake continues to sit as the moment lingers. He turns his head slightly, his eye peeking out. It twinkles for a moment and the lights go out.
SFX: Clattering of chairs
SFX: Sound of voices in halls
SFX: 'Shush'
Lights come up on the Library again. Jake and Toby sit next to one another. Their chairs are drawn in close, heads turn toward one another. They are in mid-conversation when the scene begins.
Jake: And?
Toby: (Snorts) That was pretty much the end of gym class. I can't even walk into a gymnasium now. I have panic attacks. G-d help me if I ever saw a rope hanging from a ceiling I would prolly fall into hysterics.
Jake smiles and that and continues to gaze at Toby. The look is loving and she has to turn away from it. He continues to watch her while she blushes and looks about the room. Finally she slaps the top of the table with her hands.
Toby: Well (stands) I gotta get outta here. Gotta meet a friend. (She looks at her watch and then to him) These romantic comedies aren't just going to watch themselves, y'know?
Jake: (Stands and snares her wrist) What is your name?
Toby: Marty McFly.
Jake shakes his head and waits. She looks at him and then at her wrist. He lets go and puts his hands up. He waits, staring.
Toby: I'm guess you wouldn't buy Chris Farly either.
She extends her hand and he takes it.
Toby: Toby.
Jake: Toby
Her hands slips out of his and she walks away. He looks on after her.
Lights down.
Scene 7
SFX: Beach Noises.
Spotlight on Jake. He is sitting on the couch reading.
Woman: (Laughs, then speaks in a hushed whisper) I know, right! But listen, it lasted SO long! It was unbelievable! I had no idea that you could....you know...DO that! (More laughter)
Jake marks his page and walks out to the veranda, spotlight follows. He props his feet up and looks out on the imaginary ocean (SFX: Ocean Waves).
Woman: Alright ma, I'm gonna get back my honeymoon. I love you guys. Tell Dad not to shoot at the Mormons. Love you again. Bye.
SFX: Footsteps.
Toby appears beside Jake on the veranda. She wraps her arms about him and kisses him on the cheek lightly. He turns and kisses her softly on the lips. She laughs and straightens up. She has a book in her hand.
Toby: (clears throat) 'On the 8 West, heading out from Phoenix, I hit a rain storm. Water forming splattered polka dots my windshield. G-d's very own Jackson Pollock. I turned the radio down to listen to the sound of the desert rainstorm. Life poured out upon the land. Then, as suddenly as it came, it evaporated; the smell still lapping at my nostrils.
'Along this same road, and, as much as my knowledge allows, every major interstate, there are millions of tiny divots. These are (again, fully subject to the weight of my assumption) meant to wake the careless driver; for to drive over them, is to invite a vibrating moan. This dissonance is equally as annoying to any of the lucky few who have every heard its utterance whilst pulling over for a highway patrol. Its sound both a warning and a condolence.
'On this particular afternoon, however, each tiny ravine had filled with its own measure of rain; and as I drove, they molded into a moving mirror; reflecting the clear blue sky against the black of the tarmac.
Toby turns and sits on the arm of the chair. Her hand rest on Jake's chest and he strokes her arm.
Toby:'Because of this, one might try to stare at the dark and filthy road; might try with all of his strength to focus on the muck and the dirt, even while a storm rages about him; but G-d's beauty is always the subtle artist, such that a man cannot look at the dirty ground without seeing the clear winter's sky.
Lights out.
End

Unfinished Novel

Everything Always Works Out And Nothing Bad Ever Happens
No one wants to know how Rocky puts on hs clothes and then his shoes and then his gun. Well maybe his gun. These things are mundane.
Rocky gets up and checks his messages, makes and little coffee and starts his day. His messages read something like: Discreet- Please Kill Blank- You will be paid -blank- millions of dollars- with all respect-blank.
Then he deletes the emails and gets to work. Not to say he doesn't consider the consequences, like any normal person would, it's just that he thinks, well what else am I supposed to do? And the matter is closed.
Killers are hyper rational people, after all.
Continuing with the morning routine and duldrum, Rocky puts on some clothes and brushes his teeth. He might shower, he might not. Such is the life of a bachelor.
Finally, acknowledging the existence of God through the natural world, he steps out of his apartment and locks the door.
From here, he might go or do any number of things. Today, for instance, he has to kill someone named Shaun Dublanc. This is on his 'To Do List'.
1.Kill Shaun
2.Groceries
That was it. Afterwards he might treat himself to a very rational movie (no popcorn) and a light rational dinner (sushi).
It was pity then, that he happened to run into Honey.
Honey was also quite a rational person. But rational people live in irrational times.
Honey was 22, single, and an aspiring writer. She would sit at her apartment window, which faced the closed blinds of Rocky's studio, and try and figure out what makes a good crime drama. Staring blankly at his blinds she would think:
Grit? Do I need more grit?
And so she would continue to type and search for her female grittiness and stare at his blinds.
Her main character, in so far as she had written, was named Bruno. He was a chubby Italian PI, who had problems with weight flunctuations. Honey used his binge eating to temper, what she felt, was the stories brutal grit: murder.
The scenes would run like this.
I sauntered over to the cop.
“Whose the stiff”, I snarl. The blue shirt flinched.
“Dunno Bruno,” He says, “Got a John Doe.”
No such thing as a John Doe, I think. Everybody's got somebody.
'Cept me. Dammit, I need a pastry, I think, but I push the thought away. No time.
I walk quickly under the police line and over to the sheet which someone has kindly draped over the unknown man. I nod to the forensics team and lean over the stiff.
Everybody's got somebody, I think and pull back the sheet.
Whoever it was, it has no face. Not anymore at least.
I turn to the nearest cop and ask:
“Where's the nearest bakery?”
Honey felt that this was truly gritty, but with a light note to attract younger readers. It also made her madly obsessed with pastries.
With each scene, each moment in prose, Bruno's hunger would grow. Honey was strict with him, however, and it wasn't until the case was solved that Bruno would find himself sitting back in his leather chair, munch a danish or eclair. For these final moments, Honey herself would buy the same treat. So we can eat together, she thought.
Thus she found herself walking down the her block and crossing the street to reach the bakery by her home. She smiled and thought of the case Bruno had just solved. It had been a tough one, one's with dames always were. This ending would be sweet, she thought.
And then she was shot.
Rocky stepped out of his building and looked across the street as a petite dirty blond did the same. He watched her for a moment, her hair bouncing as she jogged a few steps across traffic. He smiled and took a deep breath. She crossed in front of him.
Black car, rang the thought in his mind.
He heard the pop of gunshots and threw himself behind a parked car. It was a blue sedan. He pressed his back against it and removed his pistol from its holster. He sat and waited for a moment, listening. He heard a rasp of breath.
The dirty blond lay on her side beside him, her eyelids fluttering, eyes rolled back into her head. She was bleeding from a hole in her shoulder. Rocky was entranced for a moment by her, forgetting the screech of tires that signaled the exit of the hitman. He watched while her eyes flung themselves forward at him for a moment.
“Bruno...?” She whispered.
His brow furrowed at the name. He was about to ask her something, when she fainted.
Honey's mind swam in an abyss of pastries and interior monologue. For a moment, she relived the last memory, seeing the man holding the gun, looking over her quizzically. Bruno is that thin, she thought. He has a bit more pudge to him, she thought. By the end of the fever dream, she had correctly deduced that the man was not her main character. This only by chasing him down flights and flights of donut stares. She followed the clues at crème filled crime scenes. Each cop saying:
“The neighbors say that Miss Scone, here, wouldn't have hurt a blueberry.”
“Well,” She said gruffly, “She mustah had some problems with the baker because you won' be seein her on a shelf anytime soon.”
She shook her head and continued to chase the Gun Man. Her connecting her injuries with his presence. She followed him everywhere, until she finally cornered him in an old abandoned corner cafe.
“Who are you,” she asked carefully. She ran her fingers over the glass counters, the menu's expounding:
Murder- 10.50
Coffee- 2.50
Cafe Latte- 3.00
Cream and sugar available just at your heel.
“Who are you?!” he shouts back.
She started at his agression, but pressed on.
“I'm Honey. Why did you shoot me?”
He backs away and she notices a door behind him. Oh no! She thinks.
She hears a click, a phone on a receiver. He moves to the back door, opening it, filling the room with brilliant light. He turns to run and she follows him into the waking world.
Rocky was just pulling into the terminals when his passenger arrived into the conscious world. She was glazed for a moment, but her sanity seemed to snap back on when she saw him sitting there smiling.
“Who are you!” She shouted.
“I...”
“Who are YOU!?” She shouted again.
“I am, you see...”
“Where am I!?”
He looked over at her and put the car in park. He made sure to make copious amounts of eye contact, in the hopes of reassuring her.
“Why are you staring at me!?” She balked.
He sighed and turned his hands over.
“Please, try and listen to me.”
She continued to look psychologically unstable.
“You were shot just outside my apartment. The men who shot you...”
“But didn't you?”
“THE MEN who shot you, assume you're dead.”
“Why are we at the airport?”
She had twisted around to look out her window. Taxi's were moving around the parked car. A security woman was eyeballing them, counting in her head, Rocky thought. He knew she would count to a hundred and then come over and ask them to move the car. He had to get her out of the car.
“Listen, the men who shot you...”
“WHY am I at the airport!?”
“LISTEN!”
She looked at him, shocked.
“You are at the airport because you are supposed to be dead. Obviously you're not dead,” 40 seconds.
“If you don't want those men to come to your apartment and put an end to any career or spousal aspirations you may or may not have, in these, the prime years of your life, you will do what I say.”
He looked to her for confirmation that his words had pierced the reasoning centers of her brain.
She nodded, but remained tense.
53 seconds.
“Now I have here...”
He reached into his bag. She began to screech at him.
“Relax lady.”
He pulled out the boarding pass and a passport.
“Now, this will take you to Vancouver. You'll be safe there,” He removed a large bag. “These are your effects and $10,000 dollars in cash.”
“What?”
69 seconds. He glanced at the woman, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Take these and go, for your own safety.”
She looked at the items he held out to her. He stretched to lay them in her lap, but she didn't take them up.
“I need you to get out of the car now, please.”
She looked at him.
80 seconds.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“I just can't, I don't want to.”
“You WILL die if you stay here.”
“I don't care, I want to know who shot me.”
“Why!? What good will that do?”
87 seconds.
“Peace of mind? Security? Curiousity?”
“THIS IS YOUR LIFE we are talking about! You won't survive...”
“I've survived this long haven't I?”
94 seconds.
“How!? How will you survive!?”
“You can help me, obviously.”
The woman looked the other way and began to walk to them.
Rocky cursed and pulled the car into traffic.
The real curse of being a writer, as Honey saw it, was the compulsion to write. She's was hopelessly curse with a constant stream of interior monologue and third person observations.
Honey is now in traffic with an angry man, but not any ordinary man, she thought. No! This is a man who shot me!
But that isn't right...
If he shot me, then why was he trying to dump me off at the airport?
She pondered this and continued to monologue to herself. Rocky looked out the window and tried equally hard to decide his next move. This is like having a baby strapped to my chest, he thought. I can't go out and find the guy with her tagging along.
While Honey tried to figure out another word for plan, Rocky began to plot.
“Are we stopping for bagels?” Honey asked, trying not to whine. They had pulled over and parked next to a large crowded cafe. This is good! She thought. In her mind, this seemed like the point when the assassin or what-have-you, explains his motives and tries to get rid of her. But after he sees how stubborn she is, they reluctantly form a partnership.
Who knows? She thought. Maybe I'll get a gun?
Half an hour later, she was lying face down on the table while a barista called an ambulance.
It happened like this:
Honey and Rocky entered the cafe, he holding the door, she stepping quickly through it. He smiled at her in a way that made him seem congenial and almost pathetic. She didn't understand it, but decided to move along. She ordered a coffee, he ordered a cappuccino. This didn't necessarily fit into her character scheme (Bruno, for instance only drank black coffee as he craved its bitter biting edge), but she decided to go with it.
He motioned to a table and chairs and they assumed prosthetic relaxed poses, meant to engineer trust in each other. He smiled again and looked down at his latte. She stirred cream and sugar into hers and sipped it awkardly.
“Well,” he started. He stopped for a moment and shook his head. His face tensed and he put his hands to his nose. For a moment, his head tilted back, and then he sneezed. His face bent low and his foot touched hers. She convulsed backwards and he shook his head, keeping his hand over his face.
“I'll be right back,” he said through his hand. She felt a rather ordinary repulsion and nodded to him as he stood. He headed for the bathroom.
She watched him disappear through the doors. She sipped at the coffee again and looked around her. Her hands touched her face. She rubbed her temples for a moment, feeling rather lightheaded. The world began to spin, and as Rocky escaped out a window in the bathroom, her head smacked the table like a watermelon.

Customer Service

Customer Service- Ed Chaney
“Gawd, I NEED a frappucino!” Beth moaned from the passenger seat.
You need a frappucino, please, thought her husband. He kept his eyes forward, gripping the steering wheel. He knew what was coming, but damn it! They were almost home, for chrissakes!
“Henry-kins?” her voice was all sugary sweetness, but underneath it was cold with greed. Like chocolate syrup on a sunbaked turd.
“Yes, honey?” Henry wasn't really asking. The phrase only voiced his submission. It was tired and quiet. He turned left at the light.
“Thank you, Henry-kins.” she said, acquiescent, the sweetness still there, if a bit thinner now. No need to try and butter him when she knew she was going to get her way.
Henry-kins. He hated the name and the old-whore knew it.
He pushed the car on. Where the hell was a Starbucks when you needed one? He drove a but faster, pressing the peddle instead of squeezing his wife's gray neck.
“Henry, don't speed now.”
He gritted his teeth. I've been driving since I was 14 years old, he thought rebelliously, been driving your fat ass our entire marriage. He pushed the car forward like a pouting school child. I'll do whatever I please, the action said.
His wife turned and looked out the window. Fine, she thought, he can pay his own damn ticket. She smiled smugly at the image of Henry, red-faced, ticket in hand. The cop would lean down and smile at her. Maybe he'd give Henry a good lecture too. She could see it.
“And why would you be speeding with a lady in the car, sir?” he would say.
He would be in his twenties and with a fairly country demeanor. She would wink knowingly at him and he would smile. It would be a private joke between two strangers. My isn't he funny? So red faced and furious! He would be frustrated and helpless. This isn't work, she would think, can't chew his ass, now can you?
She continued to stare out the window, the lights passing over head. She looked at her reflection as it passed. The sunken eyes. Small curved mouth. She saw the young girl who used to be able to tease and flirt with cops. She saw, under the lines and flesh, the girl who used to kiss boys just to confuse them.
She looked at the face that reflected back at her in the tinted mirror. The flash of a street lamp illuminated her and she saw herself older than she was now. She couldn't imagine it. It's hard to enjoy life when you always figured you'd be dead by thirty five. She glanced over at the speedometer. Still speeding.
Gawd she needed a frappucino.
After pushing the white bronco around for four blocks, Henry finally spotted some Mom and Pop drive- thru coffee house.
He looked at the clock on the dash.
9:54.
Please be closed, he thought.
Just because she doesn't get what she wants, doesn't mean you win, a voice spoke up from inside himself. It was voice he didn't want to hear. A voice that told him that he was getting older and unhappier at an uneven rate. He didn't give the voice much thought, in an ironic juxtaposition. It was a voice that had spoken up a long time ago.
Jesus, do we have to drag our past around with us every where?
The voice came from a part of himself that he had known in high school. It was the part of him that always said 'Yes' to certain things. Yes to horror novel instead of the biography. Yes to the movie marathon instead of studying. He could only remember a rare few occasions, before the long apostasy of marriage, when the voice had said 'NO'. NO it said to the position at his father's accounting firm. NO to the Abba record.
It had been years since it had spoke last. The voice tired and worn, as his had become, but not from the old ball and chain. No, this was a wearing in the moral and ethical sense. The voice had spent so much time throwing itself and its advice at the wall of his conscious and unconscious mind, it had become bloody, ragged, and half dead. It had cried and shouted at him to stop and turn around, not take this sort of direction with his/their life. But Henry had either not listened or pushed ahead, so sure in the present bliss. After a while, the voice had grown tired and sad, scarred and quiet. It grew cynical and hateful, as had Henry himself.
After awhile, it didn't seem to talk at all, only to mutter and whisper, as a man who as learned to talk to himself while in a room with his best friend.
A memory struck Henry, light pouring into the car in a brief splash. He clicked his signal on to make a U- turn. It was very blurred and misted over, like a Polaroid developing on the screen behind his eyes.
It was one of the last times the voice had spoken up, loud and clear. One of the last time's he had clearly heard it. Before the separation, the blood and the silence, before the virginal resplendence of a young man is turned to the hard thorny soil of an man's life.
It began much like this night had.
“Come over!” she had saucily asked him, “I'm house sitting!”
She was beautiful and knew it, in the years before such a thing as frappucinos every destroyed the life of our modern society. The world was not perfect, that was true, but people did not yet know the pleasure of sucking down five hundred calories, when babies could find none.
She sang her siren song to him, he the most recent in a long and unbelievably distorted and sordid line of “boyfriends”. She liked him well enough. He was taut and hard in all the places young men are known to be. He was sweet, she thought, so out of her amazing depths of kindness, she would do him a favor.
For some reason, unbeknown to her, he still clung to his idealism of a man and woman united in marital bliss. This, she knew, was silly. So she would sing to him sweetly and in return (for there always is a return, as for the genie, with women like these) she would get what she needed.
“It'll be fun! I promise” she cooed. She giggled girlishly and he had no choice. She laughed as she hung up and shared something with her future apparition: greedy longing.
He hung up the phone and wandered to his bedroom in a daze. He dreamily went to his bottom drawer and slid aside all the forgotten toys of his childhood. He had every thing from the World's Largest Collection of mismatched Legos to the always funny, Whoop-EEE cushion. And, boys and girls, guys and gals, if you slid these things aside you found a very special box. An old army style bullet case. He opened it and turned it over so the prize at the bottom of his cereal box would fall into his hand. And so the condoms did.
“NO!” said the voice from the void. The tone and phrase shocking Henry out of his stupor. He stared at the plastic and rubber in his palm. It was like so many thrown away candy wrappers. It looked flimsy and he was suddenly very disgusted with the whole idea of using it. The evening hung for a moment before him and he knew for a farce. He knew in his heart that he didn't love Beth. He didn't even know if he liked her. Sometimes when she talked, he just tuned out and waited. He found this sort of melodrama oddly stimulating, for some reason. He shook his head and his view of his past and future closed in on itself.
There was only now.
“Hi! Welcome to Coffee Champ! What can I get for you folks tonight?”
As Henry had swerved into the parking lot, he saw that the light was still on inside the small brick building. A light was turned on outside and it shone on crimson block lettering:
24 hours
Henry grunted and pulled the car around in a wide casual arc. The car moved around the coffee shack, circling it like the tiger and a man/cub. With a quick twist, he brought himself even with the window.
The coffee shop looked like a new one, the milk steamers and espresso machine looked brand new. He looked around as he shifted his weight to dig a slim wallet from its compressed state under one butt cheek. He grunted again, louder this time, hoping to alert some sort of employee/coffee fairy to their presence.
“You sound like a bear.” his wife said dryly.
You snore, he shot back, to know one in particular.
He turned and looked at her.
“You know what you want?” he said almost lovingly.
She put a finger to her mouth in a manner she still believed to be endearing and looked for some sort of menu. She already knew what she wanted, but she felt that some antagonism after his brief pouting stint was necessary.
“Hi!”
Henry turned quickly back, a breeze forming about his short cropped hair. A boy/man, perhaps twenty or twenty-one, stood there before them. He was clad in a black colored polo, with a black undershirt. He wore black slacks with a black leather belt whose clasp shone in the glow of the outside lamp. It seemed to reflect in Henry's eye's, agitating him.
“Welcome to Coffee Champ! What can I get for you folks tonight?”
“Just a second, please!” Henry said, in a way that was almost friendly.
He looked at the kid. The kid had short black hair and and quiet eyes, which gleamed with something like...anticipation? The man thought they seemed gray, but as he turned, they flashed a yellowish brown.
He turned to his wife exasperatedly. Her little show had gone on for long enough, damn it.
“You know what you want?”
“Yes,” she said shortly, “ I would like a venti caramel frappucino, extra extra caramel, no whip, and please add two pumps of mocha.”
“Uh, we don't have Starbucks sizes, but we have a large if that's alright? It's still a 24 oz. Drink.”
Henry glared at him.
“Yes, fine.”
The boy disappeared and noises began to emanate from inside the small shop. Clinks and clangs. Henry carefully slipped his credit card from his wallet and held it out the window. The expression on his face was one of sardonic patience, as if to say: Yep, STILL waiting, got my arm right here, ready to pay, but I'm STILL...
The card was deftly snatched from in between his two fingers and returned. He looked at it. Strange. It was like it was almost instantaneous. He felt the card slide, but...
A loud blending began in the background.
“Did you need anything, sir?”
He looked at the kid, the malevolence returning. Why did you take me card if you thought I would order something, schmuck?
“No, no,” he said offhandedly, “that will be all for tonight.”
“Alrighty, your total is 4.65.”
He looked at the kid confused. He wanted to shout at the kid that he had already used and taken the card, but why would the kid lie so obviously? Was he trying to pull one over on him?
“Just give him the card, Henry! Jesus!” Beth cried.
Looking bewildered, he leafed it out of the small black wallet and handed it over to the kid. The boy's eyes twinkled a dark green at him.
He watched the barista ring it through, casually rejecting his receipt. A clever scheme occurred, but he didn't really feel like messing with the help tonight. He just wanted to get home, gawd damn the woman!
The barista returned, a large picturesque blended coffee drink held aloft in one hand. The barista slid his body from out to their car. He handed Henry the drink and a straw. Without looking at it, Henry passed it to the eager hands of his mistress. He looked back at the dude, who presented him with his credit card. He decided to go for a little mayhem.
“Could I get my receipt, please!” he semi-shouted, hoping to scare the nonchalance from the boy.
“You have it, sir.” the boy enunciated, not even a wrinkle appearing on his youthful brow. His eyes shone darkly and although the boy's expression was blank, a smile played about somewhere on his face.
Henry's thunder slid out from under him as he looked down at a wrinkled slip, which he had crumpled in his right fist.
“Bleh!” Beth said, dramatically, “Does this have mocha in it?”
The question was rhetorical, a stab to try and make the barista shuffle his feet.
“Ah, sorry ma'am, here I'll remake it.” The boy reached out to the car, his face like that of Michelangelo's Sistine ceiling.
“Thank you.” Beth spurted shortly.
Henry once again passed the up from his wife to the boy at the window. He placed it snugly in the outstretched hand. At the last moment, when Henry let go, the hand opening wide, like a foot shooting out in a schoolyard prank. Henry watched on the in the same sort of morbid fascination, as the drink fell and splattered on the asphalt.
“Hey, what gives!” Henry shouted, his public pretenses keeping him from swearing at the kid. He looked up and saw the dude's back.
“Hey! What's the deal, asshole?” he barked. This seemed fine, because ass was a word they used on TV nowadays.
The kid turned and cocked an eyebrow at him, as the unmarred drink sat in his gentle grip.
“Henry, what the hell are you doing?” His wife snarled, the greed and gluttony for her drink shining bright pinpricks in her stare.
He shook his head and muttered:
“Sorry...”
The blending once again resumed, and in another uncomfortable instant, the drink was back. It wavered in the air, laughingly menacing to fall again. Henry snatched it and handed it roughly to his wife. She began to slurp it eagerly.
Henry turned to look at her, when he noticed a smell. It was a sour moist odor. He looked at the drink and saw that their was whipped cream on top. What the hell, he thought, as he turned back to the window.
When he saw the boy standing there, straight and tall, a smile now blatant upon his face, something in Henry squirmed. He heard a gagging from behind him. He watched a moment longer as the boy stood in the window. Then the light went clicked out, but Henry thought he could still see the eyes gleam in the darkness.
The outside light turned out and indeed, the whole block seemed to wink out, for the bronco was bathed in shadows. His wife gagging, it was a wet sound.
He turned to look and saw the coffee drink running down her chin as her throat worked. She seemed to almost be in tears. Finally the levee broke and she vomited forward onto the dash. Henry's nose caught another whiff of the sour odor. He could almost place it.
He looked at his wife and saw something that brought everything dizzyingly together. As his wife vomited another dark batch of bile, he looked at his wife's chin. In the coffee drink, there seemed to be what looked like...grass.
Bile rose to the top of his throat and he held back his own gagging. He reached over to her lap where she still clutched the drink. He pried the to off and pushed the cream aside.
“Oh Gawd!” he moaned. He gagged and bile came out over the dam of his lips. It was shit, manure, feces; Good GAWD, she had drank it!
He himself presented his pre-chewed lunch and dinner to the steering wheel. He felt very tired, very tired indeed. The stench was every where, now mixed with their vomit. He moaned.
Beth was getting it back together and she looked at her drink. It had become very hot in her hands. She looked at it and saw a great brown bubble, flecked with dirt and grass, rise. She stared at it and fear closed over her heart. It grew larger and larger, a great boil on rich blended coffee turd. A great eye winking it's love to her.
It popped with a splash she would not have believed possible. It splashed out over her arms and face. She grimaced and fought the urge to let her stomach go again.
And that was when it moved.
She looked down, hoping that the soft nudge had just been her hand as it shook. She looked down and watched in horror, as a head wriggled its way from the crater left by the bubble. It was small and furry, rat-like, with large pointed ears. A wing rose from neath the mud and gripped at the side with a long curved finger. It pulled itself up and grappled at the side with it's other wing/claw. It had pulled most of its body out of the muck, when it stopped and shook itself. It wiped at its small head in away that would have been cute to Beth, if it hadn't been such a wretched animal.
It blinked slightly, opening its great glassy eyes wide and looked at her. Its mouth opened and she shrank at the sight of so many small pointed teeth. It seemed to grin at her, pulling itself out of the cup and falling in her lap. It crawled upwards on her sizable stomach, looking at her frozen face all the time. When it made a mad dash towards her mouth, she started to scream.
Henry turned and looked at the macabre scene before him, unbelief and fear crowding his thoughts. He saw what looked like a large black bat, trying to fight its way into his wife's mouth. You ordered it, a voice spoke up in his mind. Henry clenched as he saw more bats begin to stick their wings and heads out of the cup his wife amazingly still held. These looked about, first spotting her, the seeing him.
Henry turned and pulled at the lock, the door slid open, but he had parked too close to the coffee shack, his door hit the brick counter, on which the servers passed the drinks. He pushed at it and felts something land on his back, its claws tiny spots of pain.
What if it bites me, he thought, and rolled over quickly, hoping to crush the tiny animal. His heart sank and he began to scream himself. The cup had emptied like a bee's nest, covering Beth with black biting bodies. These spread to the dash covering every inch of the car with their large luminescent eyes and their glistening mouths. An army of the them.
His wife no longer screamed as she tried to fight the bats from racing down her throat. She gagged and felt a claw grab the back of her throat. Her hand, finally too frightened to fight, unclenched with despair. The cup hit the floor with a thud.
At the contact, all of the bats rushed to the air, flapping in a great cyclone. A typhoon of beating wings and warm soft bodies. Henry and Beth briefly made eye contact in the dimming light, and found no solace in each others wretched gaze.
It grew dark in the bronco, and darker still, as the bats seemed to cover every space of light. Even the windshield was covered over with the animals, although Henry knew that it was impossible for them to cling to such a surface. The light faded, until finally he sat in the black void that he had once believed was his bronco. He felt very alone and very afraid. It seemed that miles stretched out from his seat, every direction a great desert of darkness.
He heard breathing. His own? His wife's? Was he even alive? Yes, said the quiet voice from the sitting room behind his eyeballs. But this isn't over, it said. When I say 'Yes' you say:
“Yes”
When I say 'No', you say?
“No”
When I say 'Boo', you say?
Henry was about to answer, when a large pair of yellow eyes began to glow from the backseat.
After an eternity in the void, the light turned on to find Henry and Beth sitting quietly in the trembling car, as the engine idled before the Coffee Champ. Henry was looking at the boy in the window. The boy clad in black, the small smile still in place. The waves of fear and menace slowly abating.
Beth was stared at the floor. A bead of sweat from the drink in her hand came down and touched her index finger. She moved carefully and quietly set the drink in the cup holder. She folded her hands in her lap and continued to rattle slowly towards insanity.
Henry had always had dark blue eyes. It was his best feature, he thought. He turned them on the figure in the window, hopelessly begging with them to be allowed to go. But the face was hard, waiting.
Something clicked and Henry moved quietly. He took a five dollar bill and carefully folded it. He reached out a trembling hand and set it carefully in a small cup which read:
“Tips! :)”
He looked again at the boy. The boy nodded and winked.
When the eye opened it was dark blue.