Act. A young Lady's. Scene. Rebuttal.

**A sequel to Lauren's play about an Old Woman accusing a Young Lady writer that she don't know SHIT about anything and shouldn't be writing and shouldn't be writing about the shit she don't know**

We begin where that play left off.

An Old Woman sits on the left side of the bunch... utterly proud of her rant to the Young Lady.

The Young Lady sits... as if defeated.

The Old Woman begins to whistle a tune.

The Young Lady begins to cry... just a little.

The Old Woman's tune grows into a full on marching band.

The Young Lady looks at the Old Woman slowly.

The Young Lady has a look of 'Who the FUCK do you think you are?' on her face.

Old Woman. What? You got something to say?

Young Lady. Yes.

Old Woman. Say it.

Young Lady. Fuck you. 

The Old Woman slaps the Young Lady.

Old Woman. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?

Young Lady. No. I kiss her with this one.

The Young Lady punches the Old Woman in the face.

The Old Woman falls over and is now accompanied  with a broken nose.

Young Lady. They're are plenty of writers who haven't gone through what they write about. And How fucking boring would life be if we only stick with what we know? Shakespeare sure as hell didn't go through all the stuff that he fucking wrote about. He was never a black man. He was never a cross dressing woman. He was never stranded on an island with magical powers. He was never driven to insanity with unrequited love. You bitch and moan about how I should write about the things I've one through. But I can't. And I won't. Because my life has been pretty fucking boring up till now. The only exciting and spontaneous thing I have done was punch and old dried up cunt of a woman five seconds ago. Why don't you write something? Huh? Tell the world about your pain. Maybe you'll stop being such a scabby twat! We are here to help each other get through this. I understand that. But I have absolutely no sympathy for people like you who will not accept help from others. So, you're older than me. Big fucking deal. You've been through shit I haven't. I will probably go through the same shit you've gone through. So... yeah. Stop being so... mean. Okay?

The Young Lady gets up.

The Old Woman is still on the ground riving in pain.

Old Woman. Fuck you.

Young Lady. Suck my dick.

The Young Lady leaves to write a novel/play/song/novella/opera/collection of short stories/nobel prize winning anthology/ magazine article/in her journal/on the stalls of bathrooms/ poetry/ shit.

END