Act. Perhaps life is. Scene. A musical.

1 Stands on stage. 

Spotlight on 1

A and B appear at the sides of 1.

They are dressed in government style suits and ties. 

1 feels extremely vulnerable. 

Suddenly A begins to speak.

A. I love you.

1. Really? Wait... Really? No one has ever loved me before. All this time I thought you hated me. And you loved me? Oh my god... I think I'm about to cry. I'm sorry. This is not at all how I expected my first I love you to be. But... It's great. I feel so loved. Hahaha. I guess thats what happens when you're loved. 

B. You're perfect.

1. Pardon? Do you... Do you really mean it? All this time I thought you hated me. And you thin I'm perfect. Hahaha. Oh My god... I think I'm about to cry. I... I have always hated myself. There was nothing I liked about me. And you think I'm perfect? Oh God. Someone in the world Loves me and someone thinks I'm perfect. This could quite possibly be the happiest day of my--

A&B. Now change.

1. What?

A. You're hair is tawny..

1. Well-

B. You're a little pudgy.

1. It's just-

A. You should brush your teeth more.

1. I-

B. Perhaps get eye surgery.

1. It's-

A. Facelift?

1. Well-

B. Do you always slouch?

1. I'm-

A. Have you ever dieted?

1. You-

A. Because you really should.

1. Ok.

(Silence.)

A&B leave.

1 is alone. 

1. How quickly and strangely things change around here. 

1 Looks to the sky.

1. I'm ready to wake up now. 

END

Act. Aly. Scene. Vador.

Lights up.

We see the shinney outside of elevator doors.
Just cleaned.
Real bright.

A man with a briefcase comes and presses the button for the 18th floor.

When he releases his finger the button does not stay lit.

The man stands for a moment longer than he usually does.

He looks down and notices that the button is not lit.

He presses it again.

It still doesn't light up.

He presses it and holds it.

Lets go.

No luck.

He starts look around frantically.

We hear his brain audibley thinking.

Brain. Stairs? What? No. I'm a full grown man, I am not about to take the stairs. And arrive at work all sweaty? Puh-leeze. I guess I could just stand here like I have been waiting this whole time and then when someone else comes they will notice that something is wrong and when they ask if something is wrong I would say pardon? and they would say it's not lit and I would say I hadn't noticed and then they would seem like the worry wart and not me I would just look l ike a chill casual guy waiting for his elevator that actually doesn't work without a care in the world. Yes. This could work. That is what I will do.

He casually stands.

Still.

Still.

Still.

It's been nine and a half hours.

Man looks around.

Brain. No doubt I may be a tad late for work. But this has all been worth it. I wonder where everyones at. I wonder what is up with this elevator. I wonder...

The man looks at the shiney doors and then proceedes to pry them open. As he opens them so does a black whole that engulfs him, his breifcase, his brain, his thoughts, his stomach, his clothes, his hat, his tie, his heart, his love, his kindness, his ignorance, his racial tenencies, and, no doubt, his tardiness.

END

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

Act. Remember... Scene. When...

Lights up.

A man stands at a microphone

A woman stands at a microphone

A boy stands at a microphone.

The microphone heights are:

5'00"

4'04"

3'09"

They speak as they read from notebook papers they have written on.

Woman. Remember when I thought I was a woman?

Man. Remember when I thought I had control?

Woman. Remember when we took that trip to paris?

Boy. Remember when I caught that grasshopper?

Man. Remember when I broke down?

Boy. Remember when that grasshopper died?

Woman. Remember when we had sex?

Boy. We had a funeral for it.

Woman. You were rough. And cold.

Man. Remember when I asked you to marry me?

Woman. I pretended you were warm and gentle

Boy. I cried.

Woman. Because that's what I wanted.

Man. You said yes and then you cried.

Boy. Remember when I played baseball?

Man. And cried and cried.

Woman. Remember when we took that balloon into the air?

Man. Then you threw your arms around me. 

Boy. Remember when I caught that pop fly and you were proud of me?

Man. And you said Yes like it would be the last time someone would ask you a questioned you would say yes to.

Woman. We saw the fields and roads below... like it was a small model train set.

Boy. Daddy?

Woman. It was like we were in our own world.

Boy. Remember when you were proud of me, Daddy?

Woman. Remember when you were in love with me?

Man. Remember when we slipped away?

Boy. I caught that fly ball and got Andy out. 

Man. And you no longer waited till I got home from work to go to bed. 

Boy. And you were happy for me.

Woman. Remember when you were in love with me? Remember?

Boy. And you shouted "That's my boy!"

Woman. I bragged all the time, 'That's MY boy."

Boy. You loved me so much.

Woman. You couldn't keep your hands off me.

Man. We used to kiss like it was our jobs. Hahaha.

Boy. That was before. 

Man. You loved the taste of my mouth, you said.

Boy. That was before.

Man. Said it tasted like 'Man'.

Boy. Before you were sad. 

Woman. You would touch me all over like I was the last thing you would ever touch. 

Man. We kissed as if we would never see each other ever again.

Boy. Before you were sad and made everyone else around you sad.

Man. When we held each other... I never wanted to let go. Never.

Boy. You were so angry all the time.

Woman. You wanted to know exactly what my body was like. Wanted to know the curves exactly. How my waist was. How my nipples felt. My teeth. The difference of the skin from my elbow to my knee to my toes to my thigh to my vagina to my arm to my lips... my lips... remember when you would lick my lips. You said they tasted like the ocean. Said they tasted like 'Fresh'. And you loved me. Remember when you loved me?

Man. I never wanted to let go. I would hold you. I would try and push yourself into me. I knew that we could become one person if we tried hard enough. And every time. Every single time as I was about to push you inside of me you would break and say, 'gotta go to work'. or 'you're hurting me, Leonard.' And I would let you go and stare at your eyes that were never looking back at me. They were... looking at a watch... or my beard and then you would say, 'you need to shave.' I never wanted to let go, April. You did. You're the one who moved from me in the bed. You were the one who stopped touching me. I remember we used to have sex all the time. Now... the idea makes you bored and miserable. Remember when I was happy?

Boy. You were so proud of me, Daddy. Remember when you were proud of me? And you bragged to everyone else that I was your son. I felt like I belonged. I felt, 'thank God, My dad knows I'm his son.' And on our way home we got an ice cream cone and we shared it and you said you loved me and I smiled like I was never going to smile again. 

Woman. Remember when you loved me?

BLACKOUT

Act. I did not expect. Scene. This/That

Lights up.

1 Stands at microphone.

1. There are many thigns that I expect to happen to me as I wake up in the morning and think about what the day has in store for me. I expect to feel grogy. I expect that I will have a hard time opening my eyes. I expect that after I wash my face with my special anti-acne face wash that my skin will feel extremely tight. I expect after I put lotion on it it will feel much better. I expect that after I step out of my shower my room will be as it was when I walked into the shower. Empty. I expect that I will make the walk to work in the rain. I expect that the sun will not shine. I expect that work will be monotanous and I will think about what would happen if I let my tie go in the paper shredder. I think about putting my credit card in the paper shredder. I think about putting my social security card in the paper shredder. I think about putting my boss in the paper shredder. I expect that around 1:30 i will have to go to the bathroom but my fear of public restrooms will prevent me and I will go through the rest of the day in discomfort. I expect that when I get back to my apartment it will be just how it was when I left it to go to work. Empty. I expect I'll make dinner for myself and have left overs. I expect I'll fall asleep eating peanuts and watching T.V. but not really watching. It's just on. I'll be thinking about other things. Like what it would be like to be a flower. Or what it would be like to have wings. Or what it would be like if I could sing. Or what it would be like I I was in love. Or what it would be like if I could fall in love. Or what it would be like it I LET myself fall in love. Or what would it be like if I didn't go to work tomorrow. Or what it would be like it I didn't wake up tomorrow. Or what it would be like if I held my breath for so long underneath this pillow that I wouldn't wake up. And I wonder if I would go to heaven or hell. And I wonder if God is a woman. And I wonder if God even likes me.

I wonder if God even likes me.

I expect not.

But I won't do any of these things.
Because I'm a coward.

So I go to bed after I turn off the television.

And fall alseep.
Dreaming of simplier times.
Like when Glasses were filled to the brim with sweet milk and oranges squeezed themselves to make my breakfast drink.

END

Act. What if I touch... Scene. Here?

Lights up.
Boy and Girl in a nondescript place talking about a VERY descript activity.

**Just to show that the author does not discriminate you may play these characters as ANY sex. There names remain Boy and Girl though.**

Girl. I don't know what to do.

Boy. You don't have to know what to do. It isn't like there is a checklist or something dumb like that. You just... do.

Girl. But what if I do something stupid?

Boy. You won't.

Girl. Yes I will.

Boy. No you won't.

Girl. Stop telling me how I'm going to feel. You don't know.

Boy. I'm sorry.

Girl. I'm sorry.

(Pause)

Boy. If you don't want to.

Girl. I do.

Boy. It seems like you don't.

Girl. I just want to get it over with. Like... This whole awkward part.

Boy. It's not awkward, baby.

(Boy rubs Girl's shoulder)

Girl. Okay. That's awkward.

Boy. Really? Oh. That's what they do in all the movies when Girl is awkward and it seems to calm them down. No?

Girl. No.

Boy. Huh...

(Silence for 6.5 minutes)

During this silence they do not look at each other.
But akwardly they stare straight ahead.
Once the timer has the the 6.5 minute mark.
Girl slowly reaches her hand over and places it lightly on Boy's leg.
Boy is excited but tries to act cool and and casual as if nothing is happening.
Girl slides it ontop of Boy's crotch and begins to rub.
Boy closes his eyes and his smile tightens.
Girl looks at Boy with his eyes closed.
She has a sad look in her eyes.

What Boy is feeling is indescribable.
The person he loves is making him feel a feeling that is so unique and powerful.
Boy is everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.
Boy is inhalling little tiny Girl's inside himself and they are dancing in Boy's lungs.
He is so happy.
You cna't imagine how good this feels.

And then there is Girl.
The stick in Boy's pants hardens.
It feels just like that.
A hard stick.
A cold shaft.
Her hand begins to feel numb on the outside from the excessive ammount of denim that is scratching her palm.
She continues though because she likes that Boy is feeling good.
It makes her feel good.
Not sexually, of course.
But it makes her feel accepted.

She begins to think, aloud perhaps.
Girl. (Boy will stay with me. If I can make him feel this good, he'll stay with me. He'll never leave me. I jsut have to be sure to make him feel good all the time. I need to make him feel so good he will never be able to exist without this feeling. I need him to become addicted to me.)

Girl cries.
Boy dies.

END

Act. It's never to late. Scene. Scratch that.

Lights up.

We are in a living room.
The world is falling apart.
Literally.
Antartica just went and done fell right off.
There is a massive hole where it use to be.
But somehow things are not falling INTO the hole.
But out of.

It's like suddenly space has gravity.
And all of earth is slowly melting and falling off at the bottom.
I hope thats clear.
It's vital for this break up scene.

So... living room.
Martha stands with her arms folded while Sam is rushing all over the house collecting his things.

The year is 4097.
They speak in Uptomiese.
Translations are provided in brackets.

Sam. SumaSumaSuma!! Yuptley unk sisisi moo-ey Sto!
[That's it! We're done! You come and go now. House is yours!]

Martha. AyAy itrely hersese walo quef toatadsy. TOATADSY!
[Fine by me! I just want you out. OUT!]

Sam. Iuta yuma lasawre tulololalala tewa?!
[I'm getting out, what does it look like?!]

There is a pause as Sam realizes he is done packing.
There is a pause as Martha realizes she is done yelling.

Martha. Yuma presion tula relao pse.
[You make me so sad]

Sam. Lola nuyn sawa talo.
[Never been anything else]

Martha. Tula yofmad?
[You ever wonder?]

Sam. Yofmad hunc?
[Wonder what?]

Martha. Hunc fulo fewrse buinance?
[What it would be like if we were happy?]

Beat

Sam. Tolo.
[No.]

Martha. Ui waserta
[Me neither]

Beat.
Sam gathers his things.
He takes his coat of the coat hanger.
Places it on his head.
Martha goes to the closet to get his jacket.
She puts it on him.
He picks up his briefcase.
They stare at each other.
He looks at her and moves in to kiss her.
She moves in as well.
A kiss.
A simple Kiss.
Nothing has been simple between them ever.
This is the first thing.
It feels so good.
So good.

They move back and stare at each other.
Martha opens the door.

Martha. Goodbye.
[Goodbye]

Sam. I love you.
[I love you]

Martha. Goodbye
[Goodbye]

Sam is defeated.

Sam. Goodbye
[Goodbye]

Sam leaves.
Martha shuts the door.

Suddenly everything seems to be slipping through a hole on the floor.
Martha clings on to the door knob for life.
The carpet gets vacuumed in.
The lamp shades are the second to go.
Thirdly is a cat that flies in from the other room.
Then the fake trees.
Then the floorboard.
And then the doorknob.
Along with Martha.

END