Act. A grand Lesson from Scene. The Catcher in the Rye

Holden comes on stage. 

He is 209 years old.

He wears the clothes he did as a teenager. 

His red hunting cap has seen his entire life too.

There are tears in it.

Moths fly from the holes they have chewed out on the side.

It is very limp.

It's one of those things that looks like it smells.

Like... you can't smell it but you can just tell that it smells.

It probably smells really bad. 

He takes of his hat and holds it in front of himself with two hands.

He begins to speak.

Holden. Phony... You're a real prince you know that?... Where do the ducks go? Do you know? When it gets to be winter and the pond freezes over? Where do the ducks go when the pond freezes over? I asked that to the cab driver. I wasn't really asking what happens to the ducks in the winter when the pond freezes over... I was asking... what happens to me in the winter. What happens to me when everything stops. When things don't exist anymore...

Tears well up in his eyes. 

He uses his red hunting hat as a tissue.

He wipes his nose.

Then coughs into his hat... you know the way old men cough every once in a while.

He wipes his mouth and looks back up.

Holden. Don't ever tell anybody. Anything.  Ever. If you do... You start missing everybody.

We hear a strange noise from off stage. 

Holden looks in the direction.

It's a nasally sort of sound.

On stage waddles a duck.

It looks at Holden.

It waddles up and cuddles with Holden's ankle. 

Holden smiles.

Holden Cries.

END

END

Act. I think if I talk Scene. I'll throw up (cunt)

SO the guy has decided to go to bed right?

becuase he has fucked everything the fuck up.

his best friend is mad at him.

The girl he loves it mad at him.

So to avvoice a hang over he get himself some emergen-C and makes his bed.

he accidentally knocks the drink over

He. FUCK!!!

He makes  a new and cleans the mess.

This happens over and over and over and over and over a million times.

He cannot catch a break.

Welcome to my life.

END

Act. I think if I talk Scene. I'll throw up

\A man sits on stage.

Empty bottles of booze soround him.

In fact. 

They build a fortress.

They protect him.

Odd.

He finishes his last bottle of Tequila.

He adds to the piles. 

he looks at the audience.

As soon as he decides to say something he throws the fuck up everywhere.

everything is thrown up.

Every meal this man has ever ate is thrown up.

Egg yolks and nasty shit everywhere.

He stops.

He looks at the audience.

He. Why do I fuck everything up?

he throws up again.

He keeps throwing up untill the audience can no longer take it and leaves.

God forbid the man dies.

God forbid I die.

END

Act. Maybe it means Scene. Something else?

A girl stands on stage.

She has her keys in hand.

It's attached to a lanyard.

She speaks.

Girl. So here are my keys, right? I only have three. Is that sad? I'm not sure. Anyway- I have three. One is for my car and the other two are for my apartment. They both don't get me through my front door though. One is for my door and the other is for the laundry room. You see, I live in this big house that used to be just a house, but then got sectioned into several apartments. I'm number 4. And this one gets me in that door, and this one gets me in the laundry room. Which we all share. It's coin operated. It pisses me of sometimes. I hate going places and asking them to give me change for like... a buck. So when I don't have enough quarters laying around I usually go and get some McDonalds and buy something that costs like 2.10 or 3.o5 so I get a couple quarts back. Thats all I usually need anyway. It pisses me off sometimes though when My hands are full, say I'm bringing some groceries home and I take out my keys and put my door key in and find out its my laundry room key. They are identical- except for the fact the laundry room key has the smallest 'L' engraved on it. It's hard to see. So when I have groceries that I bought for myself and I try to unlock the door to my room apartment where I live by myself and I see that I put my laundry room key in... well... the Other day I looked down and saw the 'L' and was like "fuck!". Then I got to thinking... Maybe the L doesn't mean 'Laundry' maybe it means something else? Lonely. Or maybe Loser. Or maybe it just means Laundry. 

I don't know.

END

Act: I deserve this Scene: Because people love me. (cunt)

We last left our hero sitting in a chair waiting for the entire world to hug him. 

Several people came from several places to let this person know that love doesn't come everyday.

That you cannot just conjure up this feeling of being loved whenever you are not.

That sometimes you have to wait.

A very.

Long.

Time.

The scene ended with The french woman smoking her cigarettes.

And then coughing up one of her lungs.

I mean, it just bloodily splattered right in front of our hero.

The french woman extended her arm and flexed her finger to point at the organ, revealing her unshaved arm pits to our hero.

She opened her nicotine ridden lips and exclaimed.

"That is for you."

And everyone left.

So now.. let's join our hero as he sits in his chair with an unused lung right in front of him.

And... SCENE

The hero sits looking.

The lung does nothing.

The hero sits back and stops looking.

The lunch coughs.

The hero sits up in anticipation that the lung had said something to him.

hero. Pardon?

Lung. I wasn't talking to you.

hero. Oh...

The hero slumps back in his chair. 

His eyes are looking around the room searching for anyone, but his head is not. 

His head remains on the back most part of the chair he is sitting on.

He takes one final glance around the room.

Hoping there is some one there to just say at least one kind word.

That's all he really needed.

For someone to come up to him and say one nice thing.

"Nice hair."

"Nice Shoes."

"Nice Nails."

Any of these would suffice. 

(Though he would be undoubtedly confused about the last one. He bit his nails, you see. And they are anything but nice.)

There is no one. 

He slumps further down into his chair. 

Leans his head back farther than it was earlier. 

He looks up at the ceiling. 

If no person on earth would share with him, perhaps he can rely on his creator.

His eyes search the ceiling.

For something.

For anything.

Nothing.

His eyes begin to hurt from the long illuminating bulbs that are supposed to imitate day light.

There's 13 of them.

He counted.

The one to the right of the door is burnt out and doesn't work.

He closes his eyes.

But remains awake.

This is his last plea.

Perhaps someone will purge through the door.

Anyone.

Someone from Mexico to say his teeth are crooked.

A young man from Denmark to point and laugh at his bad hair day he's having.

Or even a young nurse with a cooler to collect the once living organ on the floor to take back to the hospital for a transplant. (Not sure how much good it would do, though)

Nothing happens. 

Nothing ever happens.

He wonders what he would do if someone did offer him help.

If his creator walked in the room and offered a hug.

Would he take it?

All signs point to yes. But he begins to re-evaluate his life.

Does he like being this way?

Does he enjoy the attention?

He has always been so fucking self less to everyone. 

He has dealt with Selfish friends his entire life. 

And he doesn't do it so he can later say, 'Hey buck-o. You owe me one.'

Not at all.

He does it because he loves his friends.

He loves them so fucking much.

He would do anything for him.

And the one time when he is desperate enough to ask for help... He sits there alone. 

In a room.

With a tobacco infested lung on the floor. 

The lung coughs again.

It has been coughing more and more lately. 

Our hero smells something sour in the air. 

Takes in a deep breath to try and analyze what it is.

He is cut off short. 

With his eyes close and body remaining perfectly calm, his brain makes a realization.

The lung and he have been there so lung, waiting for someone- that they have successfully converted all the oxygen that was at there disposal into carbon dioxide.

The hero can't get a breath.

But he doesn't flail about and panic as you expect someone would.

He lays back there and allows the poisonous gas to infect his body. 

Though his eyes shut.

He shuts his eyes.

He shuts his mouth.

His fingers turn from a soft clench fist into digits that seemingly hang by a string.

There is no more muscle tension in his body. 

His blood has decided to rest at whatever spot they were at.

The lungs take a nap.

The brain takes out it's favorite book.

And hit heart watches T.V.

And our Hero dies.

And the lung on the floor coughs.

END 

Act: Dust them off Scene: They're still good

A walks into a very dark room.

It is A's attic.

A is looking for something.

There is stuff everywhere.

Pilled up the rafters.

Cobwebs and dust blanket it all.

A goes through draws and trunks.

A pushes over mannequins and ladders.

A lifts up carpets.

Finally A sees it.

A. Ah! There!

A bends down and helps up B.

B has been laying there for 3.98 Thousand years.

A dusts B off.

B coughs. 

A mouth flies out of B's mouth.

They are both silent.

Then laugh at the funny little moth.

A. Hi.

B. Sup.

A can no longer contain it.

A breaks down and hugs B.

For dear life. 

A. I'm sorry.

B. It's okay. I was just chilling out. Do you wana do something?

A. Like what?

B. Not sure. What is it you do now?

A. I'm not sure.

B. You're not sure.

A. It's just that... I mean... I don't remember. All I can think about is all the stuff we used to do.

B. Let's do that then.

A and B both smile.

They are very happy.

A leads the way as they get out of the dusty attic.

It's hard to breath up there.

As B closes the door/ladder thingy on the floor, we look at the attic for a while.

As the night draws on the moon shines through one of those small circular window thingy's that are on the steeples of houses.

As the room is illuminated by the moon we see the bodies of other old friends laying on the ground.

Their faces are not emotionless.

But show little emotion.

They are not Mad.

They are not Happy.

They're waiting.

END

Act. James Dean Scene. Writes a Letter

---The First Movement: Only the gentle are ever really strong.---

James Dean sits on stage.

By himself.

He is smoking a cigarette. 

He is writing a letter. 

Barbara Glen walks on.

Barbara. It was as if suddenly you ceased to exist and he couldn't care less. You were an annoyance. And it was something, when he did it to me, that I just couldn't cope with. He wasn't a very social human being, or a nice person to a lot of people. Jimmy was not good at reaching out, he was so frightened of letting people in. He's show you some of himself, you'd really share something, and then you'd feel him backing off. He sensed his isolation, though he often caused it.

Paul Newman walks on stage.

Paul Newman. Hey Jimmy. What you rebelling against today?

James Dean. What you got for me, Paul Newman?

Jonathan Gilmore walks on stage.

Jonathan Gilmore. He asked me a great deal about myself. But he gave little in return- and then he seemed to regret sharing anything at all, as if to share was to give part of himself away. His intense interest in gay sex seemed as intense as his passion for the heroics of bullfighting or sculpture. He wanted to fool around, to do the forbidden thing, to be artsy, a renegade and an outside. But as for being a hustler or a whore -well, I don't know anyone who had an indication that was true. He never had to hustle, and he certainly was not some promiscuous madman.

James Dean looks up.

James Dean. Tell 'em about the night we had sex.

Jonathan Gilmore. Jimmy-

James Dean. Tell 'em! Hahaha

Jonathan Gilmore. Frankly... It just didn't work. He liked to do the weirdest thing.

James Dean. Tell 'em about Greenwich Village. That one time we went there. Hahaha

Jonathan Gilmore. Jimmy likes to go to Greenwich Village together. I would be dressed up as a woman. Very convincing, I might add. And he would go as my date. We would look like just an ordinary couple. Jimmy looked like the strange one. Everyone whispered and asked why is that handsome man with such an awkward, tall, lanky woman. We would have a few drinks in a bar and we would kiss and then pull the wig off my head and be completely shocked I was a man. We would stage a fight and then get drunkenly kicked out of the bar.

James Dean. Hahaha. It was fun.

Jonathan Gilmore. You were fun.

James Dean reads the letter he wrote.

James Dean. Got a new pair of shoes, honey. Shit! I'm so proud of them. Got a pair of pants, too. My uncle sent me 30 bucks and besides I deserved it. Made me feel good just to go in and get something. I would like to see you very much. I miss you too. Didn't figure on that too strong. But you just can't tell always, I guess. I'm getting sleepy. You write me real soon. You hear? Then I'll write again.

Barbara Glen. I wrote back. So did he.

James Dean. I never suspected on could know as few nice people as I know. My own damn fault. Everything is not just illusion. You are my proof. You have gone to Israel but you have not. I am very lonely for you. I am alone. THoughts are sweet, then wicked, then perverse, then penitent, then sweet. The moon is not blue. It hangs in the sky no more. 

James Dean takes a swig of Whiskey. 

He is almost to the bottom.

Almost.

James Dean. Please forgive me for such a sloppy letter, I'm a little drunk, drink quite a bit lately. You see, I don't know what's going on any more than you do. Remarkable lot, human beings. I care too.

Another swig.

James Dean. In antiphonal azure swing, soulds drone their unfinished melody... When did we live and when did we not? In my drunken stupod I said a gem. I must repeat it to you loved one. Let's see... "Great actors are often pretentious lives. THe pretentious actor, a great liver." (Don't get a headache over it.) God damnit!! I miss you... You're terribly missing. Come back. Maybe I can come up and see you. You think you need understanding? Who do you think you are? I could use a little myself. You're probably running around up there with all those handsome guys. When I get my boat, you'll be sorry.

Another swig.

Hope you're okay up there. Working pretty hard I guess. More than you can say for us poor thespians back here in the city. Got to move out of this crappy old apartment. Can't get along with nobody I guess. Make you feel good when you're not wanted.

James Dean stands up and smashed his bottle on the floor.

(This is the end of the first movement)

--The Second Movement: A Scene from Jimmy's Broadway debut show, " The Immoralist"

Marcelline is played by Barbara Glenn.

Michel is played by both Paul Newman and Jonathan Gilmore. They are tied at the waste with an obese man's belt.

MARCELLINE: Tell me how to accept it or to ignore it- to say to myself, this is only a fraction of him... How would we live together?

MICHEL: There are many kinds of marriages, and people sacrifice many things to hold on to them... We must promise nothing- except to like each other as we are.

MARCELLINE: You want me to accept all of you.

MICHEL: That's what our child will want.

MARCELLINE: I can do it for him.

MICHEL: Can you? Can I? And what will happen to him if we don't?

MARCELLINE: We must learn, Michel. A good way will be to practice on each other.

They stand there contemplating what to do.

Forever.

(This is the end of the second movement)

---The Third Movement: Another scene from the immoralist---

Bachir is played by James Dean.

Michel is still played by Paul and Jonathan under the same conditions.

BACHIR. Soon the warm season will come and I can spend the nights in the orchards.

MICHEL. The orchards?

BACHIR. Yes, sir- the trees are filled with fruits; dates, figs, oranges, everything grows in the orchards. Many boys tend the crops, the earts, the goats. They are very beautiful, those places.

MICHEL. Where are they?

BACHIR. Which one, sir?

MICHEL. I don't know- the one you seem so poetic about.

BACHIR. They are all out there beyond those walls. It is always green and cool and they live like a thousand years ago.

MICHEL. And do whole families live there?

BACHIR. There are no families. Only men and boys Beautiful men. They live without women.

MICHEL. Oh. That is not very interesting.

BACHIR. You asked me, sir.

MICHEL. You misunderstood me! And you eat disgustingly, Bachir!

BACHIR. Yes, sir. I think so. I am very healthy and disgusting.

James Dean breaks from the scene.

James Dean. Kiss me.

Jonathan Gilmore. What?

James Dean. Kiss me.

Paul Newman. I didn't hear that.

Jonathan Gilmore. Okay.

They kiss.

(This is the end of the Third Movement)

---The Fourth Movement: A bottomless well- no love was enough---

James Dean is back with another whiskey.

He is writing another letter.

James Dean. I don't like people here. I like it home in New York. and I liked you and I want to see you. Must I always be miserable? I try so hard to make people reject me. Why? I don't want to write this letter. I would be better to remain silent. Wow! I am fucked up!... I DONT KNOW WHERE I AM.

Takes a swig

James Dean. Rented a car for 2 weeks it cost me 138 bucks. I WANT TO DIE... I HAVEN'T BEEN TO BED WITH NOBODY and won't until after the picture and I am home safe in NYC. Sounds unbelievable but its the trust I swear. So hold everything. Stop breathing, Stop the town-- all of NYV until (should have trumpets there) James Dean returns.

Takes another swig

James Dean. Am I fucked up! I got no motorcycle, I got no girl. HONEY- shit, writing in capitals doesn't seem to help either. Haven't found a place to live yet, still living with my folks. HONEY. Kazan sent me out here to get a tan, haben't seen the sun yet (Fog & Smog). He wanted me healthy looking. I look like a prune. Don't run away from home at too early an age or you'll half to take vitamins the rest of your life. Wish you cooked. I'll be home soon.

Another swig.

James Dean. Write me please. I am sad most of the time. Awful lonely too isn't it. I hope you're dying, Because I am.

James Dean stands up and smashed the bottle on the floor.

(This is the end of the fourth movement)

--The Fifth movement: Razor Blade Bed---

Marlon Brando comes on stage.

Marlon Brando. A very tough guy- James Dean was. They say he slept on razor blades and put cigarettes out on his hand. He needed people to love him, never mind that he didn't love them in return. He was like a bottomless well. He latched on to people he liked, took what he needed and was quick to drop them before they might drop him. A bottomless well. No love was enough.

(This is the end of the fifth and final movement.

Act: These Days Have Clearly Scene: Gone to the Dogs

A Girl sits on stage under a Tree.

She is drinking a coffee.

She takes a swig.

Girl. GOD DAMNET! This coffee tastes like ass.

The Tree begins to speak.

The Girl pays no attention.

Tree. I've never had much luck with Dogs. DOn't get me wrong. Please. I love Dogs. They're probably my favorite animal. Growing up I always wanted to be a dog walker. Ha. Do they still have those? Did they ever have those? Dog walkers? I feel like it's clumped in with other things. Like if you're a nanny then you walk the dogs also, or you're a dog sitter and you play with the Dogs AND walk them. I just wanted to walk them. I just wanted to be a Dog Walker.

Girl. I mean. It taste like piss. I should complain or something.

She takes another swig.

Girl. FUCK! This is awful!

Tree. I had a dog growing up. We named her Carolina. Not sure why. I had her as far back as I could remember. She was a fantastic Dog. Growing up with her, I thought of her so much more than a dog. Not that I thought her to be a human. But it was like she surpassed being a dog. I could talk to her about anything. She saved my life once.

Girl. I think they just mix their shit in with their coffee. I bet that's it. And then over price this garbage. God damn fucking capitalist cunts. Every last one of 'em.

She takes another swig.

She gags.

Tree. I was rowing a boat in my front yard and this huge Mastiff who was always fenced in, jumped my neighbors fence and started running to me. This Bastard was like 91856 feet tall. And here comes Carolina and she grits her teeth and growls. You know, the way dogs do.

The Tree tries to mimic this.

Tree. GGGRRRRR---- Well. I can't do it but you get the idea. And the huge neighbors dog just drops dead. I'm telling you it just died right there in the front lawn. Carolina didn't have to touch him he just collapsed. As a reward, Carolina and me rowed the boat to Denmark then Russie then Singapore then Cambodia then Brazil then the Grand Canyon. That was her favorite. It was such a fun day. I love that damn dog.

Girl. I'm going to vomit. Simply upheave. I cannot drink anymore of this.

A Boy comes on stage.

Boy. Hey, Honey. Ready to go?

Girl. BOY! I'm so glad you are here, try this coffee. It's sickening. We have to take it back and get my money returned to me.

The Girl hands the coffee to the Boy.

The Boy tries to drink it.

Boy. It's empty. Did you drink it all?

Tree. I miss that fucking Dog.

END 

Act: I heard she has Scene: Some Pretty big Balls

Lights up.

On Stage is the glorious Joan of Arc in all of her glorious glory.

She is clad in armor.

She has her fists on her hips.

She could easily be mistaken for a man.

She is very powerful

A narrator comes on stage.

He simply stands there.

Joan of Arc. I believe you have a line, good sir.

Narrator. I do not.

Joan of Arc. I am almost positive you say something. For I saw nothing.

Narrator. Bitch. If I'm supposed to talk I'll talk. But I'm not supposed to talk so I'm not going to. So why don't you keep your mouth and your pussy shut and we'll both be happy. Huh?

Joan of Arc. Well I never. WHATS GOING ON?

We hear the playwrights voice as if he is in the back on the light board talking on a microphone.

Playwright. Someone call me?

Joan of Arc. Yeah. I did!

Playwright. Sup?

Joan of Arc. This man does not know his lines!

Playwright. Yeah?

Joan of Arc. I want him replaced. RIGHT NOW!

Playwright. Um... I write the plays. I don't cast them or direct them.

Joan of Arc. Well can you direct me to someone who can help me with this problem?

Playwright. Sure, bro. can you hold?

Joan of Arc. Yes I'll hold.

Click.

We hear elevator music.

Narrator. Ah! Shit, dawg. I love this tune. Da duos Dpo Dow Dpw Dpg Dpso Dppd. Why don't you sing along?

Joan of Arc. Shut up.

Click.

Playwright. Yo. Still there?

Joan of Arc. Yes. I am present.

Playwright. Okay. Here's the deal. You are not a production yet. You are still a play.

Joan of Arc. What does that mean?

Playwright. That means you are just words on a computer screen that people are going to read. Do all this... isn't actually happening. Well... It's happening but its not.

Joan of Arc. I beg your pardon?

Playwright. Uh. Shit. Ok Ok Ok Ok. It's like the moment between you think about opening the door and you actually open the door. Like. It's there. But. It's not there. Sort of. Make sense?

Joan of Arc. So I'm just instructions?

Playwright. YEAH!! THATS IT!!! Shit. You're a smart bitch.

Joan of Arc. I'm just instructions that tell what the actress who will play me to do?

Playwright. Bingo.

Joan of Arc. So I'm nothing?

Playwright. You are kind of something.

Joan of Arc. A collection of Letters that were coincidentally arranged.

Playwright. Oh. Man. Don't be such a downer. All of my other shows I've been writting have been sorta heavy. I wanted to have a light fun show. 

Joan of Arc. You're the playwright. Do what you wish.

Playwright. Um. Okay... How about...

Suddenly the narrator runs off stage.

Moment.

He runs back on stage and throws a pie in Joan's face.

Playwright. HAHAHAHHAHA OH SHIT!!! HAHAHAH THAT WAS GREAT!! I JUST PIED JOAN OF ARC!!! I JUST FUCKING PIED JOAN OF FUCKING ARC!!! OH GOD DAMN! THAT WAS GREAT!!! That was great. Thanks, bro.

Narrator. I love pie-ing me a white chick.

Playwright. Gross.

Joan of Arc. Can you make me do something?

Playwright. Like what?

Joan of Arc. You know what?

Playwright. 'scuse me?

Joan of Arc. You had the idea of how you were going to end this one before you even started it.

Playwright. True.

Joan of Arc. Why did you decide to waste me as a character?

Playwright. A girl asked me to write a play about you. I thought it would be fun to make you do dumb things.

Joan of Arc. Oh.

Playwright. And I didn't waste you? Okay? So stop your complaining. I can use you later if I want. It's not like anyone is actually going to put on these shit shows.

Suddenly, in the middle of the playwrights ranting, Joan of Arc begins doing jumping jacks. 

Playwright. What are you doing?

Joan of Arc. Oh, shut the fuck up! This is what you wanted me to do. You thought that'd it be so funny if you asked Joan of Arc to do jumping jacks and never ask her to stop. And then have her beg and plead with the narrator to make her stop or kill her or perhaps burn her at the stake! Well, fuck you. I am going to do these jumping jacks until I die. I'm going to do these jumping jacks until you die. I'm going to do these jumping jacks. For ever.

She continues. 

Forever.

END

Act: And Now..... Scene: A VAUDEVILLE!

We hear a drum roll of anticipation.

The anticipation is GREAT.

For this is the very very very very very first theatrical production to ever be performed in the ENTIRE world.

History is being made today. 

This probably is taking place in Greece or Africa or Mesopatamia. 

The Drum roll continues.

The audience cannot contain itself.

There is whispering.

Audience. I'm so excited.

Audience. I hear this changes your life.

Audience. And we are hear to see it!! can you believe it?!

Audience. Remember where you are today. In this great moment in our history. 

Audience. EVE! ADAM! I SAVED YOU A SPOT!

Audience. I hope they start soon.

Audience. I have to piss.

Audience. Sit down, they're lowering the lights!!

The Audience waits for the drum to crack.

IT DOES.

Suddenly the curtains fall down.

From stage right comes 49 women balancing on a small child's tricycle.

They do this with such ease.

They are enjoying themselves. 

From stage left comes a bear doing tumbles and dives and everything you would expect a small chinese gymnast who lied about her age to get into the olympics would do.

From Up stage comes the bearded woman. 

She has a royal gesture to her. 

She has a 5 foot beard.

She takes out a pair of scissors and cuts it violently. 

She presents her bare face to the audience.

Suddenly, the beard grows back.

She continues this routine forever. 

Down from the ceiling they lower bars for the trap-ease artist. 

They do their thang.

A large man comes out juggling plates.

After he has done this for an hour he throws them up into the air and as they come down catch them in his mouth and eats them. 

They all go on for quite some time.

Then they are finished. 

They strike their last pose. 

The audience claps for 5.5 days.

The performers stand up and look out at them.

The Audience. What?

Performers. It's your turn.

The Audience. Excuse us?

Performers. What? You didn't think you were going to see that for free did you?

The Audience. We thought it was a gift?

Performers. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA.

The Audience. Don't you all want to do this for us?

Performers. We worked hard on this show.

The Audience. And it was great! Fantastic! The first theatrical experience ever and we all got to experience it together. What a wonderful thing!

Performers. FUCK YOU!

The Audience. What do you want?

Performers. Shit. I don't know.

The Audience. Then don't get mad at us.

Audience Member. Hey! I found a quarter on the floor. My luck is great today.

Bearded Lady. GIVE IT!

Audience Member. What?

Bearded Lady. Give me the quarter, you CUNT!

Audience Member. Fine, It's just a quarter.

Bear. I want something!

Trap Ease. Us too!!

Performers. We want money!

Another Audience Member. I have a dollar five, but I need that for parking.

Plate Man. No you don't.

The Plate man goes and takes the money from the Audience member and mumbles: 'Fuck you' as he walks away.

Little by little the Audience slowly fesses up to the money that they have.

Ten spot here.

Couple bucks there.

Coin purse in row G. 

By the time they figure everything out the Performers sit on stage and count their money. 

Bearded Lady. How much you got?

Bear. 30.87. You?

Bearded LAdy. 28.50

Tri Cycle Woman. We all only got 6.49.

The Performers look out at the Audience. 

The Performers. Next time you want to see this you gots to pay 38.50 at the door! YA GOT THAT! ART DOESNT GROW ON TREES YOU KNOW!

The Audience. We have to pay to see this?

The Performers. Yeah! You got a problem with that?

The Audience. Yes. We do. 

The Performers. WhAA?S!?!?!

The Audience. How shitty of an artist. You have dumbed down the message that was in your performance so much. I sat here thinking 'God Damnet these people want to show me their art. They want to do this for me. They put this all together by themselves with TRUE LOVE. With FIRST LOVE. They don't want anything out of this. They just want to share. Contribute. Donate to the Human Condition. Make my day a little easier and unload the souls a bit while their at it.'  Buying Tickets to see art? What an absurd Idea? It'll never catch on. Never. Just you watch.

The Audience leaves in a ceremonial procession.

Mourning the loss of a great art.

***I'm sorry. I titled this piece wrong.

It should be-

Act: The Theatre Died Scene: The Same Day It Was Born

Thank you.

END

Act: And so it is Scene: Just like you said it would be

A man walks on stage wearing a hat. 

He gets to the center of the stage.

Makes a three quarter turn to his right.

Lifts up his left elbow.

Tilts his head down so his chin touches his chest.

He begins to hum on a very low note.

Man. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.....

He opens his eyes

Then closes them

Then opens them again

He continues this in a rapid motion

He twirls around his foot while he begins to hop.

END

Act The Tour Scene De’Shit

Three toilets are present on stage.

A velvet rope blocks them off.

On stage walks a group of tourists with cameras and all.

A tour guide guides them.

Tour Guide. Walk this way. Watch your step please. This way. Annnnddd. We’re stopping. Okay. This is the part of the tour that we like to call Tour De’ Shit.

Tourist. AAAAAAHHHHHHH OOOOHHHHH

Tour Guide. You will notice besides me there are three shitters. They belong to three very important people. The first belonged to abarham Lincoln. The second belong to Stalin. And the third belonged to Kelly Lusk. You may not know third, but he is an up and coming writer who sometimes writes some real bang up stuff and some real shit. No pun intended.

Tourists. AHAHAHHAHAAH HOHOHOHOHOH HAHAHAHAAH

Tour Guide. You know the age old saying ‘You can really tell a lot about a person by looking in their fridge? Well, it really is the shitter. But since in the 20^th century we were so concerned about the young children we could not say that. Now in the 21^st century we just say ‘fuck em’

Tourists. AHHAHAHAAH OHOHOOOOHO AHAHAHAHH

Tour Guide. Now lets look under the first lid.

The Tour Guide lifts the lid to the first toilet.

Tour Guide. If you will all take a look inside you will see clippings of his hair. It  was a common fact that Abraham Lincoln would stand over the toilet for hours on end clipping the hair off of his beard. ONE.    BY.     ONE.

Tourist. AAAHHH  OHHHHHHHH WWWWOOOOOWWWW

Tour Guide. The next toilet is somewhat special. And… there is actually a funny story behind this. Once when Joseph Stalin was to give a speech he was nervous about he would sometimes go and pretend he had diarrhea and sit on the toilet. And they would come and knock on his door and say ‘Joseph, quit your stalin!’

Tourist. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHA

Tour Guide. I love that joke. Ok. Let’s look inside. Now, as you can see here there are tiny words. This one says ‘hope’ while this one says ‘enslavement’.

Suddenly a bird flies out of the toilet.

Tour Guide. Oh look. It’s a woodpecker! How nice.

The tourist grab their cameras and begin taking pictures.

Tourist. OOOHHHHH AAAAAAHHHHHHH

Tour Guide. Now, onto the last and final Toilet. This one belongs to Critically acclaimed lover fighter hater shitter all around general ererere. He is not yet famous. He probably won’t be. Now. Lets take a look inside. Mhhh….

Tourists. MMMMMHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH>…..

Tour Guide. Inside this toilet you will see… A wade of gum. Some Cigarette butts. And piss.

Tourists. ……………………

Tour Guide. As I said you can tell a lot about a person from looking at their toilet… so go ahead and make your own assumptions.

Tourists. ………………………………..

Tour Guide. Have you made them?

Tourists. YES

Tour Guide. Lets continue the tour.

 

END

Act A button. Scene A BUTTON!

A girl is on stage on all fours.

She is panting like a dog.

Extremely fixated at one spot right below her nose.

Her hair covers her face but we can still hear her.

Girl. There a button a button a button. I was pretending to be a dog. I was like this hmph hmph hurp hurp hurp (Repeat 3x). Then I looked down and I was like OMGH theres a button on the floor. But that was now and this was then. But it wasn’t a button. And that’s why I said it all before cause this was an innermonologue so there really wasn’t an OMG theres a button on the floor.

The girl continues panting.

Did I mention she is fucking high as a fucking kite?

END

Act Why do I feel Scene This way?

A man comes on stage.

He acts as though his shirt is too tight.

It isn’t.

He walks as if his thighs are chafing.

They’re not.

He Starts scratching his elbows.

Scratching his eyebrows.

Man. GOD!

The man is in such a funk.

END

Act And then they Scene … You know…

A man is laying on his back.

He is completely naked.

A woman stands in the distance.

She is the most beautiful women in the entire world.

There was a contest to find her.

They examined her body through and through.

Her breasts are perfect.

Her vagina is gorgeous.

Her face is flawless.

She stands there looking amazing.

The man is masturbating.

She does not move.

He gets close to cumming.

Man. I’m almost there. I’m almost there!

Woman. How does it feel?

Man. Amazing. Like a million tiny you’s are in my lungs kissing my organs.

Woman. That’s nice.

Man. I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum! AH!!

The man cums.

There is a moment of nirvana as the man lays with it all sprawled on his belly.

It is across his chest and even fills up his belly button.

Woman. We made it together.

Man. Yes.

Woman. We finally made it together.

Man. Never leave me.

Woman. I won’t.

Man. I’m never going to leave you. Never ever.

The man is still in paradise.

He cannot get the smile off of his face.

It feels so good.

He is finally where he wants to be.

For a single moment in time there is no violence in the world.

Everyone loves each other.

For the first time in this man’s life.

Everything is as it should be.

Everything is perfect.

It feels so good.

END

Act Tell me all you know about Scene Marie Antionette.

A woman in a pink dress appears on stage.

She takes a bucket of green paint.

Drinks the entire bucket.

I mean every last drop.

She licks the sides.

Sticks her fingers in there to get every

Last

Drop

She then eats the aluminum can.

Then she pulls the hair out of her head.

Then rips her eyelashes off.

She gets a pair of pliers and rips out her finger nails.

She is sculpting the face of someone she loves.

END

Act I can’ believe Scene I’m keeping up with this motif PART II

I. I think I figured it out. I’ve been really upset lately because I’ve been thinking ‘No one loves me.’ And when I say love me I don’t mean like love me. I mean LOVE me. Someone who wants to fuck until the cows cum home. Someone who just wants to stay in bed all fucking day and touch each other. Someone who likes the taste of my mouth over theirs. It’s not that no one loves me. It’s that I don’t love anybody. I don’t love anybody. I don’t love anybody. I don’t love anybody. Anybody.

END

Act Drop Some Scene Mushrooms

A large cigar comes on stage an unwraps itself.

It removes all the tobacco.

A hustler comes on stage followed by a field of weed.

He puts it all in the cigar.

Lights it up.

Offers it to the audience.

Hustler. Have you seen the news lately? You’re gona need this, man.

END

Act Can’t find Scene Nobody.

I am on stage.

He comes on stage.

He. Whats up.

I. I’m waiting.

He. You do a lot of that.

I. Yeah Well… I’m pretty good at it.

(There is a LOOOONG Silence. It’s as if they forgot a line)

He. Don’t you have a line?

I. I don’t know.

He. Is he gone?

I. Yeah... He didn’t finish us.

He. What do we do?

(They sit for 29 hours)

I. I hate him.

END

Act And so it Goes Scene. Again

He is on stage sleeping with his head on a pillow.

The second pillow walks on stage.

Second Pillow. Hey. Hey! HEY!!

He. What?

Second Pillow. What’s the fucking deal?

He. What are you talking about?

Second Pillow. You always sleep alone.

He. Yeah.

Second Pillow. Yeah? That’s all you got to say for yourself is ‘yeah’?

He. Yeah.

Second Pillow. Pathetic.

END

And Act of Desperation A Scene of Denial

Man stands in the middle.

Person with a stopwatch is to the side.

Person with a stopwatch. GO!

Man. AHGHKDFHASFJAIOSDFJASJDKF KLFJSDFKLJ AL

Person with a stopwatch. COME ON!!

Man. ASDFJALSJDFKJSKFJKMEMEMEMEMEKAJDSLFKJADSF

Person with a stopwatch. ALMOST!! TWO MORE SECONDS!!

Man. LKSDJFLKASJDFLKAJAHHHHH

Person with a stopwatch. TIME!!!

Man. OH GOD!

The man collapses.

She comes in.

She. What is this man doing?

Person with a stopwatch. He set a record. Ten seconds! Can you believe it?! Ten seconds.

She. Ten seconds doing what?

Man is still on the floor.

Man. Being myself.

END

Act and Scene of Attraction.

1. Hi.

2. Oh… I’m not attracted to you.

1. Oh.

2. Yeah.

1. Why?

2. You’re fat.

…

2 Leaves.

1. I’m not hungry anymore.

A century passes and 1 has not eaten anything.

1. Still not hungry. Funny how that works.

Act Jesus Scene God

Him. Do you ever hate God sometimes?

Her. Yeah.

Pause

Her. Do you think he ever hates us?

Him. Yes.

END

Act I can’ believe Scene I’m keeping up with this motif

I. I’ve never loved anyone before. I though I’ve loved people. But I think I liked the IDEA of them rather then them. It’s nice to be with someone. It’s nice not to be alone. Why do I find myself pulled to people I know it won’t work out with. Perhaps so when I get hurt I can blame it on myself.

END

Act Really? Scene REALLY? -Or- Waiting for Godot can suck my dick.

He sits on stage all by himself.

Someone comes up.

Someone. Are you?

He. Waiting for someone. I’m waiting for someone.

Someone. Oh… how long have you been waiting?

He. That’s not important.

Someone. Seems to me that it’s very important.

He. I’ve been waiting… a while…

Pause between them.

He. I’ve been waiting for a long time.

Someone. Do you think they’ll come?

He. I don’t know anymore.

Someone. I’m so sorry.

He. Me too.

Someone. Someone out there loves you.

He. Maybe.

END

Act Long Scene Road.

That one. See that road?

This one. Yeah.

That one. They say it goes on for miles and miles.

This one. How many?

That one. Many?

This. Wow.

This one starts walking down the road.

That one. Where are you going?

This one. Down the road. Where are you going?

That one. No where. I’m staying here.

This one. Why?

That one. I don’t know what’s down there.

…

This one. Do you know what’s here?

…

That one. No.

END

Act Not Scene Again

He sits on stage. He comes up to him.

He. Ha.

He. You don’t deserve it, you know that right?

He. Who cares? I got it.

He. Because you’re fucking her. You got it because you’re fucking her.

He. To each his own.

He pulls out again and shoots he.

He. Fuck you in the ground with a metal stake. I hope you die.

END

Act small Scene Tallies

A playwright stands on stage and tries to build a house of cards.

Someone walks in.

Someone. That house would be sturdier if you had bricks.

Playwright. Can you buy bricks?

Someone. Sure. Hardware store.

Playwright. I like it this way.

END

 

Act They’re actually really Scene Good for you

I sit on stage and smoke 1947685789 packs of cigarettes.

A doctor comes on stage.

He is decked out as if he is about to go to the beach.

Doctor. You’re going to get cancer.

I. Probably. Where you off to?

Doctor. The beach.

I. Have fun.

The doctor goes and spends a day at the beach with his family.

I smoke another 23987284756023 packs of cigarettes.

The doctor comes back.

Doctor. I have skin cancer.

I. I have a cold.

END

Act 1 I Deserve this because Scene People love me (Cont/Cunt)

Me sits on stage.

Me. I’m ready for love.

Someone from India walks on stage and says in their native tongue: “You don’t get love everyday. It comes and goes.

A woman from Paris says in French: “How many people do you love?”

Me. I can’t count.

The same woman: “We all waited in line to hug you… when was the last time you waited in line to hug someone?”

Me. Never

The same woman smokes 9 packs of cigarettes and then coughs up a lung.

She points to it.

The same woman. That’s for you.

Me. I don’t want that… I want—

END

Act So this is love? Scene Mhmhmhmhmhhh

Man stands on stage.

Very plain.

Someone comes on.

Someone. Hi.

Man. Hi.

Someone. Are you in love with me?

Man. I think about you constantly.

Someone. Are you in love with me?

Man. I think about you when I wake up.

Someone. Are you in love with me?

Man. Are you in love with me?

Someone. It depends what your answer is.

(What?)

Someone. So are you in love with me?

Man. Yes.

Someone. Then no.

Someone leaves.

Man. I love you so much….

END

Act Maybe this time? Scene undecided

Someone stands on stage.

A fishing line comes down from heaven with ‘X’ (see foot note) attached to it.

Someone tries as hard as they can to get it.

It always moves out of their reach.

Finally ‘X’ lands on the floor, but someone is too tired.

Someone looks at it. reaches in his pocket for a knife and stabs ‘X’

Someone. Fuck you.

Someone leaves.

**X= Anything someone desires.

END

Act I deserve this Scene Because people love me

Everyone in the entire world comes up one by one and give Me a hug.

There is a very long line to hug Me.

People want to hug Me.

Once everyone is done.

Me. Wow… I deserve love… don’t I?

End