Captive Zombie Snake
Cara sits on a block center stage. Jeffrey enters from center spinny door and brushes her hair. When he is done he begins painting her fingernails, then her toes. when he is finished, he exits back through the center spinny door.
CF: In the cab on the way home from work Conan is on. I’m sharing the cab with one of the other bartenders who lives in the neighborhood and he taps on the screen to turn it off, but it just comes right back on again. Conan has a giant yellow snake curled around his neck and the neck of a man standing next to him who seems to be in charge of the snake,
Jill enters from SR spinny door, crouching down in front of the block and removing Cara’s pants or shorts. When she is done she moves to Cara’s top and removes that as well. Her task is to remove all clothing down to underwear. When she is finished, she takes all clothing away and backstage through SL spinny door.
CF: and the snake has its head tucked just under Conan’s crotch so it kind of looks like Conan has a giant yellow snake dick that is also beginning to choke him and I think to myself yeah right.
Christopher enters from SL spinny door and crosses downstage of Cara where he crouches. He pulls Cara’s legs out straight in front of her one at a time and applies lotion to them, then to her elbows. When he is finished he exits backstage through the SR spinny door and gets a little spray perfume bottle.
CF: Yeah right just right now that happened. By chance. The snake just had to get up in Conan’s crotch and make it look like he has a giant snake for a dick. On camera. In a room full of captivated people. Then there was a snake dick close up
Cara’s clothes are off and she stands in very frilly, yellow, doll-like underwear. Sarah enters from center spinny door and ties a white summer hat with ribbon on Cara’s head. Alicia enters from SL spinny door with makeup, flips the front of the hat up and begins putting makeup on Cara’s face, ideally applying red lipstick for “zombie snake” When she is finished, she exits.
CF: and I say that stupid snake is trained and the other bartender I am sharing a cab with says it’s not even a snake. It’s a zombie snake. In an aquarium all day, subject to constant fondling…
Ryan enters from SR spinny door holding a frilly blue dress and Sarah moves to take one side of it from him and they take it to Cara with the dress between them. Sarah and Ryan stand Cara up and get her into the dress. When they are finished they exit. Christopher enters SL with perfume and sprays Cara’s crotch quickly on “smell of it’s own shit” as he passes in an arc across the stage and exits SR spinny door.
CF: fangs cut out, doesn’t have to hunt, barely even knows the smell of it’s own shit. They’re like dolls. They’re like dolls, their teeth ripped out, their nuts ripped off, and I say to him I guess we have to take away their instinct the way we took away our own as we pass a calvin klein billboard high up. I hate calvin klein in the sky that simulates a god. I hate my vibrator that simulates a fuck and my computer that simulates friends. He says that’s good. you should write that down. And I said I won’t forget it but now I’m trying to get it out and its not the same as when I said it that first time and meant it because right after I said I won’t forget it I looked out the window
Jill enters SR spinny door with a pair of doll-like dress shoes and puts them on Cara. When she is finished she exits.
CF: at an enormous apartment building that looked like one of those manmade beehives and said it’s so bleak though. Maybe I should forget it. And then I did. This barely says what I want it to. I gnaw on my pillows with baby teeth. When did we decide that if we’re going to be this way everything else has to be? When we named the animals? ‘’(point to everyone in their nametags)’’ When we named the animals? Conan, you’re fucked. You’re stuck in a television being choked to death by a captive zombie snake. Acting like it’s a surprise. You are a captive zombie snake.
Neo enters SR and carries Cara off SL, stiff and tucked under his/her arm, like a doll.
CF: And most of the world would be you if they got the chance.
CURTAIN
Chekhovian/Pavlovian
Copyright 2008 Jacquelyn Landgraf (TML Chicago)
Jacquelyn and Jonathan Mastro sit at two chairs with a table between them. On the table is vodka and 2 shot glasses. Their absolute stillness and wide-eyeness implies long-endured suffering.Long pause.
Jacquelyn: The storm has passed.
Both drink a shot of vodka, a shot is heard off stage, a stuffed seagull is thrown onstage, a guitar string is cut. They observe these things in turn.
Jonathan: Yes.
Both drink a shot of vodka, a shot is heard off stage, a rubber chicken is thrown onstage, a guitar string is cut. They observe these things in turn. Long pause.
curtain.
I want to buzz cut your soul.
© 2008 Jacquelyn Landgraf
Sarah is sitting on chair holding a flower, looking as adorable as can be. She talks softly and cutely into microphone. On the chair next to her sits a blender with milk in it. There is an extension cord that runs backstage, so the blender can be turned on/off from there. At GO, it is turned off.
Sarah: I love you. I love your soul. It’s so tender, and gentle, and good. It’s like a soft, light little bird that perches on my shoulder and whistles Nina Simone songs in my ear all morning and then flies away to feed it’s bird family up high in an evergreen tree that is evergreen.
I love your soul like I love a fluffy tiny puppy that licks my face with cold wet little kisses and nips my cheek with it’s baby teeth and I hug it and kiss it and think about how if I open my mouth wide enough I could put it’s whole head in my mouth and swallow it in one big gulp but I don’t do that, I just want to squeeze it, but in a rational way, not like Lenny in Of Mice and Men, just enough pressure to feel the indents in it’s little rib cage and wish I could pour barbeque sauce in between those ribs and swim around in there freestyle.
Your soul is like a big head with lots of thick curly hair and I feel that if I could get past that mop of hair, I could see even clearer the purity of your beautiful soul, your shiny, bald, sweaty soul. I want to buzz cut your soul. I want to buzz cut your soul.
You, there (in the front row). With the (rainbow beanie) Yeah, you. I was talking about you, did you know that? Yes, I’m in love with your soul. Surprise. (someone backstage turns on blender) And the white milk in this blender represents the purity of your soul and as the world turns we watch your soul swoosh around, frolic around freely, maybe splash out and kiss the stage with its beauty.
Sarah watches the soul splash around for a few moments. When she begins speaking again, another Neo enters wearing latex gloves and a lab coat and pours red food coloring into blender. The blender is now churning red milk around and around, splashing on Sarah,so that she looks like Sissy Spacek in ‘Carrie’. Things get scary. Sarah’s voice gets scary.
I want all of you, I want more of you, I want you to share your soul with me like a red delicious apple. I want you whole, but I’ll take you in pieces, I’ll take you as apple sauce, then I’d scoop you up and spoon feed you to starving infants. I will drain your soul out of you, blend it fine, and bake it into mine, so that we can not tell our souls apart. I will feed you our soul cake. I will cut up little samples and give them out on the corner. I will a huge mess of you in the kitchen, just so I can mop up your soul with a sponge and wring it out into the sink, and then wash my hands in it. And my hands will be soft and beautiful.
Blender is unplugged from backstage. Sarah takes out a cup and pours herself a little bloody soul milk. She takes a drink. She goes to audience member, hands him the flower that she has been holding.
CURTAIN.
Disappearance
5 Neos on stage with flashlights. They are in a staggered line together, with a few on blocks to create different levels. All lights are extinguished. When each neo speaks, he or she lights himself/herself with a flashlight and extinguishes it when the line is over.
1: July 24, 2009
2: The Arctic Sea, a transport ship of 6500 tons of timbre is boarded by 8 to 12 men.
3: The men detained the Arctic Sea’s Russian crew, questioning them about drug trafficking.
4: At 3 am.
5: At that time, the ship’s radar was turned off for 2 hours, during which it was said to have performed extreme maneuvers.
5 quietly exits the stage.
1: Since the crew believed they had been boarded by genuine law enforcement, no complaint was immediately made and the Arctic Sea continued on its way.
2: July 31 - the last know contact happens with Swedish police, when the ship is believed to be off the coast of France.
3: No big deal.
4: Attacks on ships are extremely rare, basically they don’t happen, someone from the British Chamber of Shipping said.
4 quietly exits the stage.
1: Piracy levels have increased off the coast of East Africa, but not in the heavily policed waters of Europe.
2: August 4 - the ship does not arrive in Algeria.
3: The ship is no where to be found. It has, to anyone’s knowledge, disappeared.
3 quietly exits the stage.
1: We are not going to classify this as a piracy event, they said. They bureau is unaware of any piracy in recent memory in the waters off Sweden. So it’s probably not pirates. But maybe it is.
2: It’s not pirates, ____________.
2 quietly exits the stage.
1: Ok, it’s not pirates. But you know - Mikail Voitenko, the editor of the Russian Maritime Bulletin Website, [and giving full disclosure, i have never heard of this source before], believed the ship was carrying some kind of secret cargo. Something worth taking. Because pirates want things worth taking.
Neo 6, in pirate hat, enters and lights self with flashlight. Neo 6 then turns off light and exits when Neo 1 says “completely disappeared.”
1: But it might not be pirates. And the ship completely disappeared. Like Amelia Earhart, but a big flipping boat. It’s probably not pirates. It couldn’t be pirates.
House lights and work lights turn on.
1: Look, I’ve found skid marks in my underwear, but I can’t ever remember the last time I shit my own pants. Right?
Neo 1 extinguishes light and calls CURTAIN. All other Neos stay back stage. At this time, Neo 1 pulls the number called, calls the play, and does his/her best to perform it to his/her ability without any tech or help. Neo 1 should be extremely versed in the current menu.
Once the following play has been completed, but before curtain is called:
Neo 1: And you know, at some point, nearly everything that’s lost, is found.
Offstage Neo calls curtain and Neos reenter to resume performing.
ref: http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/europe/08/12/pirates.europe/index.html
Golden Girl: Pilot
Sound: A sound queue of audience laughter plays at different time increments through out (5 seconds, 10 seconds, 15 second). There is no rhyme nor reason to why they laugh. Neo 1 (preferable one who liked Golden Girls) down stage left with microphone and clipboard of script. The 3 youngest Neos sit around a block upstage right, coloring.
The following is taken from the pilot episode of Golden Girls. All other characters, as well as most of the lines specifically directed to other characters and questions/nonsensical one liners, have been taken out. Think of Garfieldminusgarfield.com
NEO 1: Dorothy enters. Dorothy. I taught a class today—the finest school in Dada County—two girls had shaved heads and three boys had green hair. And I expressed myself. I told them to leave; they were too ugly to look at. Now the parents are mad. A father came in in a three piece suit and defended Tiffany, a bald girl with a nose ring. Why don’t you just shoot me.
You know, I got the shock of my life today. I was in the teacher’s lounge talking to some girls in their twenties. They were so pretty. At that age you don’t even have to be pretty and you’re pretty. Anyway, we were all talking and laughing together and I completely forgot I was older. I just became one of the girls. And I had such a good time, too. Then I got into my car and caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and almost had a heart attack. This old woman was in the mirror; I didn’t recognize her. It was me. I had felt so young, so like those girls, that I was totally unprepared for my face.
Dorothy & Rose exit. Dorothy Enters.
Ma. Mother. Mother. Rose. Rose. Coco. Rose. Blanche. Rose. Coco. Blanche. Blanche.
I got married before my father finished the sentence. My father told Stan he had to marry me. I was pregnant. In Queens, it’s called shotgun. He left me thirty-eight years later for a stewardess he met on a business trip to Hawaii. It was her first flight. They said, on arrival, give the passengers a lei. She got confused; Stan got lucky. They now live on Maui. It’s very nice. A sixty-five year old man with gout is learning to windsurf. I hope he trips on his thongs and falls in a volcano.
Mother.
Look at the Irish. You have a wake, you eat, you cry, you drink, you vomit, and you’re done. If you’re Jewish, you sit, you weep, you eat for seven days, gain ten pounds, and that’s that. We Italians scream, dress up a donkey, hire a band and it’s over. It’s these Southern Protestants who make it a way of life.
And that no matter what happens, even if we all get married, we’ll stick together. Let’s go, girls. THEY EXIT. FADE OUT.
ON MAGNITUDE
©2009 Jacquelyn Landgraf
There is a big glass bowl of peas on a podium.
JACQUELYN: This is a bowl of peas. When I was little, I would ask my mother for a bowl of peas which I would salt and eat slowly as I watched T.G.I.F on ABC. This is only a bowl of peas, and nothing more than a bowl of peas. I love peas. She salts the peas and eats one.
In Poetics, Aristotle says that “any beautiful object, whether it is a living organism or any other entity composed of parts, must not only possess these parts in proper order, but it’s magnitude also should not be arbitrary, beauty consists in magnitude as well as order.”
He goes on to say that nothing can be beautiful if it is excessively small. He’s speaking macrocosmically, but talking, of course, about theater. Therefore, it can be deduced that Aristotle hates Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind and peas. And midgets. She salts, eats a pea.
What I can do for you is document my reactions, my recognitions, my flaws, my missteps, my reversals in fleeting two minute-or-less glimpses. Sometimes I can do this whilst eating peas. She salts,eats a pea.
Aristotle says “observation becomes confused as it comes close to having no perceptible duration in time.” And here you see me. You do not feel pity or fear, for there is nothing to pity or fear in me eating peas for two minutes. Therefore, you see me as unbeautiful. She salts, eats a pea.
Even if you sat down and read all 115 plays that I have written and performed in this show, in the order that I wrote them, could you say, ah yes, there is our protagonist, I have learned as I watched her good fortune turn to bad, as she struggled within the belly of the beast, as she emerged changed, renewed, complete. I look at her journey and I understand her; I am cleansed! Praise to the gods!
Pause
….No, most likely you could not. She salts, eats a pea.
You say, there is that woman, there is that tall woman who in fact is very, very small. There is that small woman who eats peas. There is that woman who eats peas for me.
Jacquelyn continues salting and eating peas one by one…
Curtain.
Our Very Neo-Futurist Thanksgiving
©2009 Jacquelyn Landgraf
“All in a Garden Green” from the album ‘Harvest Home: Beautiful Music for Thanksgiving’ plays
ADAM: (enters carrying pumpkin) Our harvest being gotten in, young Adam came from backstage and stood on the stage.
JACQ: Upon Jacquelyn’s entrance to the stage, he showed elation and removed ye olde shirt.
ADAM: Jacquelyn returned the welcoming gesture, only after producing thine olde magic markers.
JACQ: Thus they began drawing rudimentary turkeys on each others’ flesh by tracing their hand, as children do.
ROB: Rob appeared at the upstage curtain, proving he hadeth prepared for his cue by entering shirtless with a turkey already traced upon his flesh . Adam and Jacq greeted him with warm laughter.
JACQ: and all three showed thanks by feverishly scribbling turkeys, as children do, but upon bare flesh.
JEFFREY: Hence Jeffrey came upon the group, straddling a mop as though pretending it were his horse. He circled his friends hesitantly, and politely declined Rob’s offering of a magic marker and his left breast.
EEVIN: Dan appeared upon the stairs, with the gift of Eevin as a burden upon his back.
JEFFREY: Jeffrey appeared grateful for the momentary distraction.
DAN: Just as Dan unloaded wee Eevin on the stage, she revealed unto them the piece de resistance of the play.
EEVIN: A $5 footlong sandwich from Subway!
DAN: Filled with processed fowl and provolone cheese.
JACQUELYN: Adam, Jacquelyn, and Rob expressed their excitement by tweaking each others’ nipples.
JEFFREY: Jeffrey appeared momentarily disapproving, then with a smile allowed Jacquelyn to also tweak his nipple affectionately.
JACQUELYN: All laughed a knowing laugh.
EEVIN: As Eevin unwrapped the turkey sandwich, they held hands and danced in a circle around her—
ROB: But not before, in their infinite generosity and for the sake of non-illusory theater, they grabbed an audience member to join in the festivities.
ADAM: Hence the Neo-Futurists and their uncomfortable friend formed an aesthetically-pleasing clump around the sandwich.
DAN: They ate of the sandwich.
JACQUELYN: --They ate of the sandwich, only pausing to deliver a line out to the audience.
JEFFREY: All the while patting each other on the back and making meaningful eye contact with one another.
EEVIN: And they continued to feast of the sandwich until no sandwich was left to feast on.
They continue to feast on the sandwich until the last bit is gone.
MEG (from the tech booth, on God-mic): And although it be not always so plentifull, as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of Neo-Futurism, we are so farre from want, that we often wish you partakers of our plentie. Hi. I’m Meg in the tech booth, and that’s the actual last line of the Thanksgiving story. Kind of. OK then. (pause) Buh-bye now.
she fades out music and lights
CURTAIN.
Teenage Trainland, or We were all like this once.
Neo 1 stands center stage. All other Neos stand in two parallel lines on the sides of the stage. They each have a bouncy ball (and maybe an extra one in case). When “go” is called, they begin to throw their balls against the opposite wall (bouncing them back to themselves and catching them). They also repeat a phrase about themselves over and over while they do this, a couple of sentences (about themselves as teenagers or something they might’ve said.
Jam-packed on a train car
full of hormones zinging back and forth;
bouncing off the walls like rubber balls
and everyone/every one of them
desperate to be heard -
loud, brash, teenaged, misunderstood.
And I thought, “What would happen if I told them to shut up?”
All Neos finish their current bounce, stop talking and turn to Neo 1, fixing their gaze on him/her, like lasers. Neo 1 waits to feel their gaze, then:
Because I’m tired and sleepy and know better,
know enough to understand that
the quieter you are, the more you are a mystery
and the louder you are, the more people know.
The Neos turn back to their bouncing and talking, full-volume.
If I could only impart to you the value of silence, the power.
I’d probably get punched in the face.
or worse, called “old.”
I’m getting older.
Shut up/Be quiet.
The Neos finish their current bounce, turn to Neo 1 and pummel him/her with all the balls.
Here And There
HERE AND THERE
© 2009 Christopher Loar
At go, EH and CL enter from off and walk fast downstage right and left.
EH: Christopher.
CL: Eevin.
EH: I do something. (She presents a plunger head.)
CL: I do something. (He presents a plunger head.)
EH: I do something else. (She presents plunger arm and screws it in.)
CL: I do something else! (He presents plunger head and screws it in. They both begin to plumb the stage.)
EH + CL: We’re doing something here!
CL: Yeah!
EH: Yeah!
CL: Wait.
EH: What?
CL: Do you ever get the feeling that there’s something more?
EH: Something more than this? Here? Now?
CL: Yeah, like something that’s always happening, not necessarily here, but somewhere . . . somewhere else. Somewhere that’s always . . . there shining in the background, even when the sounds turned off and the color’s been scrambled. A brilliant, twinkling static that even unseen, unheard is part of everything we do. A universal hum.
EH: Hmmmmmmm . . .
CL: Exactly.
EH: (She answers if she ever has that feeling or not, yes or no) Can we go there?
CL: I think we can. Um. Dream something.
EH:(She does and closes her eyes. Ok.
CL: Now. I dream something. ‘’(He does and closes his eyes.’’)
EH: Now we’re dreaming something.
CL: Uh-huh.
All lights out except for backstage slow strobe and Xmas lights. Spinning doors open to reveal 3 other NEOS. A CL remix of Brian Eno’s “Deep Blue Day” plays, very loud, as NEOS do “Brief Movement Piece With Plungers and Xmas lights.”Other backstage neos Backstage NEOS invite EH and CL backstage with them. They go.
Death In Spring
2009 Christopher Loar
Music: Mr. Bungle: “The Bends” 6:28- 7:10
Warm lights up on all NEOS standing in a tight circle around CL, who is seated, writing frantically on a notepad. He is lit by very cold light, a special if possible. He is huddled into himself. ALL wear: A took / beanie, a scarf and a winter coat. They have their hands in their pockets.
6:38 ALL NEOS except for CL step out 3 steps (on 1/4 notes with the music.) On the fourth and last count of that measure, they remove their hands, which are poised in a claw shape.
6:43 ALL NEOS except for CL remove one article of winter wear, one at a time on beat with the music. The first two on the first two quarter notes of the measure, the last three NEOS on the last 3 eighth notes. This choreography strips them of their winter clothes.
6: 52 ALL NEOS turn sharply to face CL. Ambiance in music swells as they approach him in slow motion with arms spread wide and fierce. As they move towards him the warm lights intensify. They cover him with their bodies, extinguishing his cold light and taking his pad away from him.
Blackout.
Tonight on the Not Dead Yet! Show
Rob and Lauren sit in two chairs angled closely toward each other. They can hold cue cards. There is an empty chair between them. Tone is over-the-top talk show personality.Ryan stands upstage with an applause sign.
RN: Good evening, good evening you, you precious breathing specimens. (he takes a big breath of fresh air).
LS: Hello, you gems and germs of life and welcome to tonight’s edition of:
BOTH: “NOT DEAD YET!!” [Applause]
LS: Tonight we have a very special guest, please welcome our own animately existent JACQUELYN LANDGRAF!!
Duncan Sheik’s “Barely Breathing” plays. [Applause.] JL enters and waves, sits between RN and LS
JL: Hello.
RN: First things first, Jacquelyn. I understand that you are here tonight because you are, in fact, Not Dead Yet. Is that true?
JL: Well, Rob, yes. But don’t take my word for it. See for yourself. She places his hand on her left breast. For a little too long.
RN: Why isn’t that amazing, ladies and gentleman, I do indeed determine some life in her yet!! He makes a checkmark on his cue card.
[Applause]
LS: So, Jacquelyn, I find this very interesting. As an expert at being undead—
JL: Well, I wouldn’t go so far as too call myself an expert—
LS: I’m sorry, I thought we just covered our bases as to why you are here tonight. You are, I repeat, Not Dead Yet, am I correct?
JL: Well, yes, that’s true, my life has thus far not been extinguished.
LS: Very well then. And as a cognizant being, what do you have to say for yourself?
JL: Well, um, overall? You mean—
RN: Because Jacquelyn, we have heard that as a privileged member of the living class, you frequently burden yourself and others with worries about being the opposite of Not Dead Yet?
JL: Well, hey now, maybe I have a teensy weensy little death obsession, and maybe I have nightmares about my imminent demise a tad every single night, and maybe I stop to whisper to the gravestones in Greenwood Cemetery for like, a few seconds before I get on the subway, but I wouldn’t say it’s a burden—
LS: Bring in the character witness!!
Erica enters:
EL: She makes me!!! She makes me text her, every day, at 9:30 PM!!! In case she’s dead!!! I check to see if she’s dead!! I have to halt my own not-deadness and use up 30 precious seconds of vitality to cater to her own morbid fancies!! She’s twenty-six years old!! It’s downright weird!! Let me live!! Live, by God! Live……(she disappears.)
[Applause]
RN: Who do you think you are, you…mortal?
LS: What right do you have to worry about anything other than being Not Dead Yet?
JL: Look, I’m sorry. Everyone. I know. It’s just—the suspense, of life, is killing me! I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. Can you tell me what’s going to happen to me??
RN: Eh, you become famous, you’re one of history’s Chosen Ones, but you get killed by a falling air conditioner unit on 25th Street in 2039.
LS: You outlive everyone and die an old maid and a smoker at 107.
RN: The Apocalypse comes in a few years, but we all get safely transported to Neptune, where you become a Girl Scout leader.
LS: Brain aneurism, two plays from now.
RN: You’re granddaughter marries Sasha Obama’s son. Their daughter creates world peace, and is subsequently assassinated.
BOTH: WHO CARES? [Applause]
LS: So spine up, Landgraf, because you’re here with us now.
RN: And our time is up, everyone.
JL: It is?
RN: Well, for this play.
LS: So how bout you get over yourself for a minute and do what all young, decent-looking, Not Dead Yet people come here to do?
JL: OK, Lauren. Rob. That sounds nice. That sounds really nice.
She turns to Rob, they grab each other and kiss full on the lips with the breath of life.
[Applause]
She turns to Lauren, they grab each other and kiss full on the lips with the breath of life.
[Applause]
“Barely Breathing” plays.
Word from on High
(c)2006, Chicago
A blender/food processor is plugged in and placed center stage, the blades moving vigorously. At GO, a tight spotlight on the blender.
VOICEOVER:
“A man shouting that God would keep him safe crept into the lion’s den in a Kiev zoo last Monday. Witnesses say the man shouted, ‘God will save me, if he exists,’ lowered himself by a rope into the lion’s den, took off his shoes and dropped himself in.”
A Neo crosses in blackness quickly and drops an egg into the blender. Another Neo quickly crosses mid-way through the following sentence and at the word “artery,” puts a few drops of red food-coloring into the blender.
“A lioness went straight straight for him, knocked him down, and severed his carotid artery, killing him instantly, proving, in one swift motion, once and for all, that God does not exist.”
Spot stays on blender whisking away at the egg and red, and then fades to black.
BEWARE THE PIRATES!!!
At GO, Neos hide at the bottom of stairwell. They wait for several suspenseful moments before letting out a loud YARRRRRRRRRR and other pirate-like sounds while charging into the audience. They collect as much booty as possible from the audience, (including but not limited to watches, purses, clothes, alcohol, children) face assault and counter attack, and run away with their treasures.
haiku for mouse caught/in my gluetrap with spoonful/of peanut butter
JL stands holding a small gong. She hits it. It makes a small sound
Look who’s laughing now/
You pompous little glutton/
Die, you bastard, die.
JL hits gong again.
Waiting for Sarkozy
Jacq and Rob stand onstage. There is an empty chair and a sad little tree. They look out, look at chair, look out.
RN: C’est ne pas la chaise.
JL: It is a chair.
RN: An empty chair.
JL: La chaise vide.
Pause.
RN: Sarkozy will storm out of the G20. If he does not get what he wants. Leaving an empty chair.
JL: The French! (she spits)
RN: (he spits)
JL: I do not know what I mean when I say the French.
RN: It is insignificant.
JL: Merde!
Pause.
Dan and Lauren enter from upstage curtain and slowly walk across the stage. Dan has Lauren on a leash, Lauren wears a hat.Dan beats Lauren
DM: Talk talk talk talk talk. Call out the Anglo-Saxons! More morality in capitalism! Regulate global finances! Men in a room, men in a room, save the world, big deal. One day we shall die, in the meantime let us talk about The Real Housewives of Orange County. Idiots festering in marasmus!
RN: He says he prefers a clash to a flabby consensus.
JL: I can understand that.
RN: It’s true about you, I have seen the repercussions. No matter.
JL: I believe in dialogue and consensus. Sometimes I prefer authority. Every now and then totalitarianism.
RN: He will leave an empty chair. La chaise vide.
JL: No need. Obama will assuage him. Compliment his tie. Convince him of financial stimulus, teach him the Electric Slide. They will do a photo shoot for Vanity Fair.
RN: You make me weep. I raise your blood pressure, we disagree. We will take off our pants and smile for Facebook. That is companionship. That is compromise.
JL: Such is life. All will be forgotten four generations from now. Nothing to be done.
LS: And you will be rewarded or punished for your attempts to make things better and to love one another quaquaqua but perhaps the only real connection is a poke on a virtual network or Gmail chat as we wait for Sarkozy for no reason because we are all fucked in English or French in spite of the tennis…(DM and LS exit)
RN: Let’s go crash the G20.
JL: Let’s go update our status message.
RN: Yes, lets…
Long pause.
Death Over Manhattan
JL stands alone on stage with a matchbox and match. As she speaks to the audience, the lights are slowly fading to black.
I saw a shooting star on January 4th. I had never seen a shooting star, it was one of those Things About Me, something I would use in Never Have I Ever to avoid taking a shot of vodka or something. I was exhausted, I had been writing evaluations of my students all day, I was walking down 14th street, a bum put out his hand, I looked up and a star died. It was huge and brilliant, over a starless night sky. It came so close to the earth, so close to every New Yorker, but it was for me. It was more beautiful and magical than I had ever imagined it to be, and one must imagine a lot, if one has never seen a shooting star. It was thrilling and sad. I thought I was hallucinating, I didn’t believe it fully until my Google search finally led me to an blogger who saw it on the Upper West Side. Why do my most magical moments require Google searches? I wish you could have seen it. I wish you were there with me. (the stage is completely black) All I wanted to do for you was something simple. Throw a match in the darkness. But recently I got in big trouble for using exposed flame in this theater. Why do my most magical moments require Google searches and exposed flame? I wish you could have seen it, this Grand Death Over Manhattan. I was all alone. And there is no magic here.
Mexican Hat Dance?
Alicia stands downstage left. Other Neos are backstage. All lines, except the informercial, are said to the tune of the Mexican Hat Dance.
Alicia:
How freakin awesome.
It’s freakin awesome.
I’m not gonna miss this train.
But if I had
I’d be late again.
I’ve gotta get outta my apartment sooner.
But I know that.
I fucking know that.
Then why can’t I fucking do it?
My bed is so warm.
And Aren’s in it.
But there’s a bigger problem than that.
I’ve had a (Alicia claps along)
headache all the time for twelve years
And sometimes it’s a full blown migraine.
I’ve been to eight different neurologists
And none of them know what is wrong with me.
They’ve put me of lots of medicine.
Right now I’m on four prescription drugs
Including a muscle relaxer,
That I’m pretty sure gives me nightmares.
It wears off in the middle of the night.
That’s when I start to have bad dreams.
I have blocked out most of the worst dreams,
But remember some of the weird ones.
Like one that was an infomercial
For a forehead exercising machine
That was endorsed by Clint Eastwood
That went something kinda like this:
Blackout. In the darkness-
Ryan (on mic) - The absolute best forehead exercise machine you’ll every try. Guaranteed. Just ask out most satisfied customer.
Rob in a Clint Eastwood mask stands upstage right and is illuminated with a cliplight. On mic -
You feelin lucky punk? Luck didn’t get me where I am today. At first, I had a baby face and nobody took me seriously. Then, thanks to the Foreheaderizer, I got what it takes to get a head: a great forehead!
Cliplight out.
Lights blink on and off while backstage Neos sing “Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. ba dum ba da dum da dum. (clap clap)” 4 times. Alicia is on the floor in various sleeping positions.
In the last blackout, backsage Neos have formed a line upstage, all of them wearing Clint Eastwood masks and sombreros.
Where the last (clap, clap) should be, there is a long pause as the lights come up.
Music comes on from the speakers (for the first time) to break the tension. When that happens, the Clint Eastwoods start circling Alicia. Alicia raises to her feet center stage. Three of the Clint Eastwoods have Alicia’s prescription bottles and are shaking them like maracas. Another Eastwood has castanets. As the Eastwoods circle, Alicia takes the bottles, opens them, and takes her medicine. As the song ends, the Eastwoods sing
Aaaaannnndddd…. that’s why she’s five minutes late! Ole!
Neo-family baseball game during which Alicia eats his last meal and remembers
The other Neos set up an impromptu baseball field on stage with home base by the prop shelf. Alicia sits on a block down stage left very close to the audience with mic and spotlight.
At go, the Neos start a game of baseball, seemingly oblivious to what Alicia is doing on stage. They focus on the game. It should be light-hearted and fun, but should an argument over rules pop up or a trick play occur, so be it.* Think kids playing in a backyard.
Alicia unwraps an ice cream sandwich, tears it in half, and sets one half in her lap. She begins to eat the other half. In between bites she says:
I remember helping take care of the cows. My cousin Christopher and I were following him around all day on the tractor. We helped him attach this piece of machinery to the back of it. He wanted us to ride up front with him, but we wanted to walk behind and watch the machine work. He smiled and gave us what we wanted. We loved hanging out with Grandpa. The tractor started putting along and the machine started spinning. We followed close behind to watch the action. Grandpa told us to step back, that he was about to turn it on. We did as we were told. He told us to back away farther. We said we were far enough. He chuckled and said okay. He turned it on. With a clunk and a whir, cow poop started flying through the air covering the ground and any children silly enough to not listen to their grandpa. The manure spreader is an efficient machine. I don’t remember the next part as clearly, but I’m pretty sure he sprayed us down with the hose before we went back into the house, laughing the whole time.
Alicia has finished her half of the ice cream sandwich by this time. She gets up and puts the unwrapped half on top of the clock (with something underneath it to keep it from dripping). She turns to watch the baseball game. Then she calls
Swamped
Flashlights are set up in intervals across the edge of the stage. They are on and pointed upstage. The lights at the beginning of the play are “normal” so the flashlights are washed out. A music stand is placed behind the clock. Alicia sits in a chair center stage.
At go, “New Family Waltz” by The Pine Leaf Boys plays in the background.
Alicia: We arrived. One look and I thought a secret thought that would soon become part of a story told again and again. We drove around the rookery. A haven for tens of thousands of birds year round. Homes with wraparound porches, traditional steep roofs, nestled behind towering oaks trees. We followed the gravel road until Lake Martin broke through the tree line, rippled silver by the western sun. We drove back to the walking trail to park. We read the sign warning us of alligator courting rituals and nest protection. (lights start to fade) Informed, we step onto the boardwalk and into the swamp. (blackout, leaving just flashlights)
Our feet are a foot above the water. We are in a grove of cypress trees emerging not from the ground, but from the water. Water that is mostly covered with plant life. Water that is still except when the creatures hidden below stir its surface. The cypress are shaped like stalagmites, their bases thick to keep them standing. The leaves are just starting to grow, so the branches seem like sticks and the Spanish moss is not yet hanging down in sheets. We look for alligators. We see none. Perhaps they are all mating.
Music stops.
I want to remind you that you are not there. You are here. Sitting in this theater. In the dark. Imagining this. (Alicia stands and walks to the music stand) If you have never been to Louisiana, or a real swamp, here is a picture of the place I am talking about. (She places a large picture taken at Lake Martin on the music stand. A light fades up on the clock/music stand. The picture stays for the remainder of the show.)
So, we were looking for alligators, but there were probably all mating. (Music starts up again.)
We hear a screech and look up. There, up on a branch, (she sticks two owls on the swamp picture) are two baby barred owls. They are looking right at us. We look back at them. Look back at them. (pause) You hug me. You kiss me. You tell me you want to spend the rest of your life with me. You ask me to marry you. I start to cry and say “of course I will” and throw my arms around you.
The owls approve.
Of course, you’ve realized that the ‘you’ in that last paragraph wasn’t really you. Unless ‘you’ are actually in the audience. (she looks to see if Aren waves to her from the audience) You (pointing to the audience) are not in the swamp. You have probably never been to a swamp. I am in the swamp. I mean, a part of me will always be in that swamp. The part of me just above my knuckle on the third finger of my left hand. My heart and my head are in the swamp. It’s a magical place. I wanted you to see it.
Post St. Pats Play written on late on St. Patrick’s Day
‘’All neo’s have a clear plastic glass 1/3 full of green liquid (Lauren has 2 glasses). Lauren sits upon another neo’s shoulders. The others are bunched around Rob who is crouched on a sheet, in front of a small tub holding open a smallish tinkerbell umbrella over his head. With each number the neos raise a glass as in a toast and the toasting neo gives a glass to Lauren. Lauren pours the green liquid onto the umbrella/Rob. Most of the time the liquid splashes with much of it falling into the tub. The female Neos all speak in Irish accents.’’
Ryan: I. Yer Dun
Lauren: II. and trouble dances upon your shoulders like the thirst of Eire’s sisters winkin’ at all the boys n girls when she knows the limit and the limit has been passed.
Erica: III. can you really hold on to the last possible light or glimmer make it gold, make it shine make it love
Jacq: IV. green greens still flicker just beyond the corners of your eyes and pipes play tunes slightly jingles in the distance and
Alicia: V. like those accents you know you are not Irish, truly, nor were you happy fully, but for one day you felt both and
Lauren: VI. perhaps it was the beer or perhaps it was all the fine folk you were with, only 5 out of 12 whose names you actually now recall
Rob: VII. (tipping umbrella back so he gets majority of the green water on him) Luck. Look luck appears everyday, some days you’re just more covered in it and some days you’re just feeling wet.
Curtain
McSorley’s St. Patrick’s day 2009
Your own personal
[ 1, 2, & 3 are standing UC, in that order. In front of them, Neos 4 & 5 are holding up a white sheet. Behind the 3 Neos is a floodlight creating shadows of the 3 on the sheet. All other lights start black. About 10 lines in, the stage lights slowly fade up from 0 to normal by the end of the play. All 3 Neos are standing next to each other facing downstage. We can’t see their lips, and their gestures are minimal, but not restrictive. Each line is spoken as its own sentence, not as a lead up to continuation by the next speaker. ]
1: Signs of the times.
2: The end of times.
3: Maybe we’re nearing it.
1: How on earth?
2: How did we get here?
3: Not here here, but Here.
1: Right! Here. Right here.
2: Ourselves?
3: Or those who came before us?
1: Someone once said.
2: Something.
3: Someone said something.
1: Yes.
2: Yep.
3: Yeah.
[ beat ]
1: Oh! History is your responsibility.
2: That’s what someone said.
3: You carry the debts of your father.
1: And so here we are.
2: With what’s left.
3: Of the oil.
1: Of the air.
2: Of the land.
3: Of our souls.
[ all inhale ]
1: And yet, we’ve made it this far.
2: Generation after generation.
3: They all thought they wouldn’t.
1: I still fear the bomb.
2: The plague.
3: The end of times.
1: But sometimes you don’t.
2: You rarely do.
3: You just don’t die like that.
1: Sometimes you just fall down.
2: You fall down a dark elevator shaft.
3: You didn’t know what was down there.
1: And it’s all over at age 5.
2: And you quickly realize.
3: In that final split second.
1: That you just had your own.
2: You had your own individual apocalypse.
[ Neos 4 & 5 drop the sheet and leave upstage. ]
3: [ exhales ]
[ 4 & 5 turn out flood light ]
1: That’s better.
2: Much better here alone.
3: Alone here in the dark.
An open letter to Pat Benatar.
Dear Pat Benatar,
Pat Benatar, I am writing to tell you two unrelated things.
1. I am writing to you to express my sincerest admiration for your work. Many people might not know that aside from being a multi-platinum selling, four-time Grammy-winning 80s pop icon, you were also classically trained as an opera singer. Pat Benatar, many in this audience may or may not be surpised to know that in addition to being a Neo-Futurist, I am also a classically trained ballet dancer. We both studied our respective crafts throughout childhood and while other kids were enjoying things like “summer vacation” and “friends,” you and I spent countless hours, days, weeks, years perfecting our art; you trying to hit that high C, me trying to nail that triple pirouette.
Music cue. ("We Belong” by Pat Benatar, looped.)
Pat Benatar, you and I were both 19 years old when we decided to quit pursuing our dreams of the opera and the ballet. I imagine that we both reached a point at which we no longer cared if the C wasn’t high enough or the pirouette not clean enough; we were tired. We quit. We left. We moved on, Pat Benatar, you and I; you to your chart-topping pop music career and me here, making theater in the big city. My question for you, Pat Benatar, is: Would you change anything? Do you regret it?
2. When I was little I used to listen to this song while pretending that I was crippled and climbing up the stairs using only my arms. I still don’t really understand why.
Music changes.
The entire cast moves from wherever they are seated toward the stage, as if pulled by an invisible thread. As they move forward, Lauren folds the letter, putting it into the stamped and addressed evelope. The music swells and Lauren starts to dance. The Neos join the dance in a long line behind her. The music fades slowly as Lauren presents the envelope to an audience member.
Momentary Fight and Resolution
[ 1 and 2 stand facing each other; Dialogue here is read with the inflection of the dialogue described. ]
1: Greeting and common hand gesture.
2: Acknowledgement of greeting with similar gesture.
1: Rhetorical question lacking meaning?
2: Meaningless response. Same question reiterated.
1: Same answer reiterated. Inquiry into family or family member?
2: White lie that saves time explaining the complicated nuances of lifelong relationships. [ beat ] Question about recent news or political event?
1: Confirmation of awareness of said event. Statement of uninformed but adamant opinions about said event, which might be received as either righteous or smarmy.
2: Restrained anger toward smarmy statement couched in some reference to the first amendment and the freedom to be a total bonehead.
1: Apparent intuition of this restraint.
2: Passive admission to disagreement.
1: Directly insulting statement.
2: Interrogative to verify insulting statement?
1: Confident re-confirmation of insulting statement.
2: Vulgarity toward you.
1: Vulgarity toward your family or family member mentioned earlier.
2: Punch in the face!
1: Punch in the side of the head!
2: Punch in the ribs!
1: Missed punch that grazes the ear!
3: [ entering ] Exclamatory! Exclamatory! Physical intervention! Call for peace!
1: Grunts while getting up!
2: Growls while getting up!
3: Loud, forceful scolding with a condescending tone of disappointment.
1: Guilty agreement.
2: Self-conscious, pathetic concurrence.
3: Parent-like powergrab. More scolding and social pressure.
1: Sigh. Half-hearted apology.
2: Breathy reciprocation.
3: Smug grin and guttural noise. Shout that signals the end of a play.
Animal Collective Faux Motivational Meetings I-VI
1: One:
(lights up, M is seated in one chair across from a beaver on a bench)
A man sat in a chair holding inspiration at bay. He thought he had a plan, but was not sure how to implement it.
The bunny on the bench asked him: ‘You got a dime?’
The man shook his head.
‘No? Some days I am stuck in the past. You?’
The man nodded.
‘I think it’s going to snow soon.’
M looks up to ceiling.
Blackout.
1: Two:
(lights up; a plastic squirrel has joined the rabbit and 2 comes to mic.)
The man and the rabbit developed a rapport. The bunny brought along a squirrel who wrote for a well respected periodical.
2: ‘You think you are failing,’ said the squirrel.
M: ‘Yes. At times.’
1: Said the man. The bunny countered, ‘You are not.’
2: ‘The world,’ the squirrel followed, ‘is out there.’
She pointed passed the man’s right shoulder.
‘And you know it.’
M: ‘Yes. I do.’
Blackout.
1: Three:
(lights up)
One day they all had a great time sitting around counting things, out loud.
They all count things out loud (off mic).
Blackout.
1: Four:
(lights up; a plastic whale has joined the other animals and 3 comes to mic.)
The bunny invited a small shark, who sounded possibly foreign, to join them.
3: ‘Plasma screen teevees and ipods, lots of them. Ohhh and if you live in a loft, and it’s a warehouse district, aww that is tantamount to auto-mah-tic in the book of heep.’
1: ‘True’
2: ‘Yes’
1: The squirrel and rabbit concurred.
3: ‘Do you know Valencia Galaragalala?’ the shark asked.
M: ‘No’
2: For the man did not get out much in such circles.
3: ‘She is divine and a close personal friend of mine. I like you. You two should meet.’
Blackout.
1: Five:
(lights up; M has on a birthday hat)
Time passed and it was the man’s birthday.
2: They had a party and sang some sea shanties.
3: Oddly they were all the small shark knew how to sing.
All: Come all ye young fellers that follows th’ sea.
Way! Hey? Blow th’ man down!
I’ll sing ye a song if ye’ll listen t’ me.
Give us th’ time an’ we’ll blow th’ man down!
Blackout.
1: Six: (lights up)
Again the man sat in a chair with inspiration close at hand.
2: He had a plan now
3: and felt ready.
1: The fake animals on the bench were silent.
2: But supportive.
3: The man stood up to announce his next move.
M: Today. (Blackout)
You Did Not Fight Well At The Shaolin Temple
Rob sits on a chair upstage right. On a block, down stage and to the left, sits an upside down colander, which covers a flashing light. Rob will read from a book, and during the play the lights fade down while the sound of nighttime (bugs and birds) grows. Rob has a light he turns on to read with, as needed.
RN: A story.
(reading from the book). ‘When I was a little girl my grandmother took me on a walk down a long straight-ish road that ran out back of her small ranch style house. Grandpa had passed three years earlier of the lupus, but Grandma had hung in there, baking us cookies and sending us the five dollar birthday checks. We walked for almost 45 minutes before we came to a small stand of trees. She moved to the edge and gestured that I should follow. ‘Inside’, she whispered, ‘is what keeps me going on—it’s… well, you need to experience that for yourself.’ And the old witch shoved me through the branches. I fell to my knees—my arms and face, scratched and stinging--my eyes teared, and I thought I might need to throw up, but then I looked up and through the fish-eyed view of my watery green eyes I saw the most…’
He stops. At this point it should be dark except for his light and the light under the colander. And the sounds of night continue.
You kill me.
You fuckin’ kill me.
What time is it.
What time is it?
What time is it?!?
Rob Exhales.
Why you won’t tell me something integral to us all.
What?
You do not
Get me
Fine.
Where was I?
Oh, yes.
The End.
Rob shuts book and turns out light.
Because we’re working without a net here, people.
Neos A, B, C, D, E take turns speaking into the mic.
JL notes the time on the clock. During the voiceover, JL sits on a chair with a bag of balloons. She breathes into the balloons to inflate them and hands them to different audience members.
Neo A: In 2003 she was in Dublin walking home from rehearsal with her friend. She was biting into an apple when her friend stepped forward directly in front of a speeding bus, forgetting that traffic came from the right. The apple was wholly in her mouth when she sprang forward and tackled her friend back to the curb, an instant before she became Irish road-kill. The friend was hysterical; she cried, too. But now she thinks about how easily she could have choked on that apple… The apple of heroism.
chime
Neo B: She’s been a bit wary of scarves ever since she first heard about Isadora Duncan. The car turns the corner, fabric catches in the wheel, neck snaps in two, and so much for modern dancing and flapper parties and Italian lovers. Death by accessories, she thinks, and refuses to ride her bike.
chime
Neo C: There was a brief period in high school when she would black out in the shower. During this same time she would quite often fall all the way down the sixteen stairs from her bedroom to the first floor of the house. This phase was never explained: anemia and cancer and vertigo ruled out. So she thought perhaps she was acquiring super-powers, or maybe entering a higher state of being, and accepted it as a given. But now sometimes she looks down the stairs to the subway and feels terrified.
chime
Neo D: She’s not sure why now the fear of instantaneous death creeps more and more into her daily life. As she waits for the train, packs into the elevator, turns the light out for the night: perhaps tonight will come the fire? Or the rapist-slasher? Another tornado in Sunset Park? She wonders how long it would take for her loved ones to know she was gone: she lives alone. If she died on a Thursday her students wouldn’t register her absence till Monday.
chime
Neo E: Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have health insurance, yet she does have life insurance. Maybe it’s because it used to be easy to picture heaven and hell, but now she’s not at all sure. Maybe she’s afraid to get old, but what’s the alternative? She sure doesn’t want to go. Especially now. She’s so full of promise, don’t you agree? And full of vivacity? And interesting-looking?
Neo A: She knows that when her time comes, she’s not gonna have much say in the matter. So she’s not living life in fear. But she is saving her breath. Cuz if that last gasp comes too fast, she’ll take another one please.
chime
JL adds the two minutes that were lost during this play back to the clock.
An Oreo by any other name…
Three Neos sit at a table eating cookies. 1 eats golden Oreos. 2 eats Newman-O’s. 3 eats Oreos. Each pops a cookie in her mouth after speaking.
Eevin: This Oreo is golden.
Sarah: This Oreo is classic.
Jill: This Oreo is not an Oreo. It’s a Newman-O. It’s vegan, which makes it better than either of yours.
Eevin & Sarah: Not true!
Jill:(to Eevin) Well, it’s certainly more chocolaty than yours.
Eevin: True.
Sarah: Yes, but not mine. Mine is as chocolate as the day is long. Always has been, always will be.
Jill: Yes, but mine is an agent of change.
Eevin: Yours could be considered an agent of incremental change, but mine… Mine is Golden. My Oreo IS change.
Jill: But not necessarily a change for the better. No chocolate. This Oreo represents a total change in the status quo. It stands for the under-represented. Its simple complexity is Shakespearean. It means what it says, and says what it means; yet it has a subtext that says something more. It means to be chocolate, but it elevates chocolate to a spiritual level.
Sarah: Bullshit. Chocolate is already spiritual.
Eevin: Are you saying that my Oreo is a bad American?
Jill: Don’t worry about it. My Oreo voted for Ralph Nader in 2000.
Eevin slaps the Newman-O out of Jill’s hand. When she picks up another, Sarah slaps it out of her hand.
Sarah: That’s not an Oreo. Your Newman-O wants to be an Oreo. You just said it yourself: Your Oreo MEANS one thing, but IS another. This Oreo has no choices to make. This Oreo just IS. You can trust it.
Eevin: But can you? Didn’t that Oreo create this Oreo? And this one?
Jill: And this one?
Sarah: Yes, in the abstract. No. Yes. No. You may believe that, if you like, but we cannot blame this Oreo for the likes and dislikes of those, for whatever reason, who do not like classic Oreos. This Oreo did not create your Golden Oreos, or Newman-O’s, or itself for that matter. It also didn’t create this world where your Oreos were necessary. I could – like a bitter whore – stroke your egos, and agree with you, but your feelings of vindication would be temporary and false. My Oreo does what it must and feels no regret. It is a classic. Plain, simple, perfect.
Jill & Eevin: (grumble something; their mouths are full)
Sarah: What did you say?
Jill & Eevin: Mmm. These are delicious.
They stuff their mouths with more.
No one cares about the moon anymore.
Lights out. Neo 1 is standing in the aisle with binoculars, facing the stage. Other Neos are lying on their stomachs around the edge of the stage.
Neo 1: A long long time ago, the moon was formed. (Upstage center cool backlight turns on.) If you cared about the moon, you’d know how. The Earth went through some major changes, but the moon was always there. A long time after that, people showed up. (Neos roll onto their backs toward the center of the stage.) They looked at the moon in wonder and awe. (They prop up on their elbows.) They tracked its cycle and made it a god. (Raise their arms and point at the light.) They praised it for its constancy, all the while trembling with curiosity. (They uncurl their fingers and point their open palms toward the light. Neo 2 stands up. Neo 2 helps Neo 3 up. Neos 2 & 3 help Neo 4 & 5 up. They all help set up the ladder. Once set, Neo 2 begins to climb the ladder. Other Neos hold onto the ladder.)
Eventually, science caught up with that curiosity, and the race to the moon was on. Billions upon billions of dollars stretched toward the celestial prize. Every day a U.S. shuttle took off was a national holiday. More children wanted to be astronauts than fireman and ballerinas combined. (Neo 3,4,5 on the tiptoes) Billions of eyes were stuck to the television as Neil Armstrong bounded across that glorious gray landscape. (Neos 3,4,5 slide one hand up the ladder. Neo 2 taps the lighting instrument with a small object. Takes out flashlight and illuminates the lighting instrument.) But… there were no signs of life. No aliens to talk to. No water in the Sea of Fecundity.(Neo 2 turns off the flashlight and climbs down the ladder. Neos 2,3,4,5 take down the ladder and lean it against the wall. Then they exit backstage.)
So quickly our hungry eyes and curious minds devoured and dismissed our nearest neighbor. There were no mysteries left to draw us in. Just a floating rock.
(All other stage lights begin to slowly fade up. By “city lights” they should be up full.) No one cares about the moon anymore. Except for kids on museum trips and scientists who want to colonize Venus. But the moon is stuck with us. It cannot escape our indifference. Unwavering in its ancient cycle, now dimmed by city lights. (Neo 1 brings binoculars down.)
Play About A Fight
Eevin sits at the back of the house with head mic watching the action and narrating. Neo 2 (preferably a female) shadow boxes center stage facing audience and then repairs, when appropriate, to USR corner just in front of the curtain. Neo 3 pops out from behind the curtain with stool, water bottle, towel, etc. to “coach” Neo 2. A fourth Neo sits in the two front house left seats with a bell that he/she rings as indicated.
Eevin: At the amateur boxing match I attended, the first thing I noticed is how quiet the boxing itself is - it’s the crowd that makes all the noise. And the bell.
Bell sounds. Neo 2 repairs to corner.
The other thing I noticed was the coach’s pep talk in between each round. the boxers would retreat to their corners for a rest and the coaches were instantly these nurturing mama bears giving them water, advice on how to do better, encouragement, total faith in their guy.
Bell sounds. Neo 2 returns to shadow boxing.
And then the bell again and they’d be back out there. I started to think “I want that. I want water and love and a pep talk. I’m taking hits left and right. Oof. my job. Oof. money. Oof. rejection. Oof. jeans shopping.
Bell. Neo 2 to corner.
I want someone in my ear: “have a drink of water” “lookin’ good” “move your head” “don’t worry about it - you’re doin’ great” “just keep workin’ ‘em. you just gotta work.”
Bell. Neo 2 boxes.
Sometimes I need that. Some days, that could make all the difference. I guess you have to encourage yourself because you can’t count on other people to do it for you. But the boxers can - they could at that fight. There was always someone in their corner, on their side. And maybe there is always someone in my corner too - just some days it’s a lot harder to tell that they’re there.
Bell sounds. Neo 2 stops boxing. Puts fists in air.
Give Me An A
JW & EL: Uh, it’s cold in here, there must be some addicts in the atmosphere
JR & JC enter.
JR & JC: I said…
JW, JR, JC & EL: Uh, it’s cold in here, there must be some addicts in the atmosphere
EL: A, D D, I C T I O N
CA & JL enter
All: Addiction, uh uh uh
Addiction, uh uh uh
JW: It’s true, no joke
You’re hooked on diet coke
All: It’s no big deal
Just two with every meal
Girls: You’re coking, Boys: uh uh uh
Girls: You’re coking, Boys: uh uh uh
EL: You’re young, wey hey
You smoke a pack a day
All: Your lungs are grey
Your mouth is an ash-tray
Girls: You’re smoking, Boys: uh uh uh
Girls: You’re smoking, Boys: uh uh uh
JR: Your life’s on form
You’re addicted to porn
All: You ain’t no schmuck
Just likes to see ‘em fuck
Boys: You’re perving, Girls: uh uh uh
Boys: You’re perving, Girls: uh uh uh
All (Whisper): Compulsion, obsession
It sure beats your depression
All (low voice): Affliction, addiction
It sure beats an eviction
All (Shout): You’re hooked, you’re fucked
You wanna self-destruct
EL & JL exit.
CA: You’re shopping (clap clap clap)
JC: You’re sleeping (clap clap clap)
JW: You’re wanking (clap clap clap)
JR: You’re eating (clap clap clap)
All: Knock em down, roll em around, don’t deny your urge!
Knock em down, roll em around, come on addicts splurge!
Music starts. Dance break.
EL & JL enter wearing roller skates. They carrying baskets of Addictions. Everyone takes one Addiction and strikes a pose for big finale.
Graham Cracker Piece
Lights down except for a small area down center.
Alicia sits on the stage on a block down center. Her bag is next to her. She has a cinnamon graham cracker. She begins to eat. She really loves those grahams. After a few luxurious bites, she looks to the audience. She pulls a box of grahams out of her bag and offers an audience member a graham cracker. When Alicia stands, ”Whistle Stop” from Robin Hood, starts playing. At the same time, house lights begin to fade up. Alicia continues to pass out graham crackers until every audience member has a cracker or has only one piece left. She scampers back to her seat on stage. She raises her cracker in the air, as if toasting. She takes a bite. She takes a smaller bite. Her bites gets smaller and smaller until she giggles and says...
I have really tiny teeth.
Giggles. Song ends.
Climbing the Nearest Thing
JC stands in the center of the stage, perfectly still. Like a tree. CF addresses JC while circling him/her slowly.
CF: The cops won’t let me climb the trees. Or the scaffolding. Or the sides of buildings. Or maybe it’s society. Do you think it’s cops or society? Or my own fear and acceptance of my own limitations?
JC answers.
CF: I love/hate (whatever JC said is the restrictive force)
CF begins wringing hands.
JC: You’re wringing your hands.
CF: Futility. I could climb a car, but they move so fast or they just sit so still and I would reach the top too quickly. And damage someone’s property. And my view would not get better enough. And the cops/society/a combination of the two/my own fear and acceptance of my own limitations would prohibit that too.
JC: Have you tried?
CF: And all the tall fences have barbed wire on top of them. And you’re the nearest thing. So can I climb you?
JC must answer that he will comply.
CF: Thank you Jeffrey.
CF begins to climb JC while continuing to address him/her.
CF: I know I’m heavier than I look maybe, but you are at least as tall as a (something that JC is at least as tall as, a Christmas tree, a hat rack) and definitely the tallest Neo-Futurist in this show right now who will let me climb him. I’m sorry, but could you make your arm a branch, please so I can get higher?
JC must answer that he will comply. JC makes arm reach up like a branch and CF climbs/attempts to climb it.
CF: Thank you.
CF inspects the fingers of JC.
CF: Do you think your fingers could support my weight or do you think that I will break them?
JC answers honestly. CF responds or doesn’t.
CF: I’d better stay on (whichever part of JC that CF has reached at this point) I can/ I can’t/ I can almost see all the way to the back of the theater. I wish you were taller.
May I borrow your shoes, please?
At Go, all the Neos ask an audience member, “May I borrow your shoes, please?” Neo 1 sits upstage right and carefully unties and removes his/her shoes. Neos keep asking the audience until they feel that the resource is tapped out. If there are not enough shoes, Neos will take off their shoe(s). Ideally, there will be at least 10 shoes, but more is awesome. All available shoes will be placed in a pile stage right. Neo 1 arranges the shoes in a rectangle, just big enough for him/her to sit cross-legged inside. After all the shoes are gathered, other Neos will take a seat.
Neo 1 continues making the rectangle and says:
I learned this trick from a little girl
with a long braid and a unicorn dress.
She was so different that she sometimes disappeared.
Neo 1 sits inside the shoe rectangle with his/her back to the audience.
She did this to make an imaginary space
in her grandma’s living room.
Where she became invisible
because no one was paying attention.
(beat)
*For the rest of the show, whenever Neo 1 is not in a play, he/she sits in the shoe rectangle with his/her back to the audience.
At the end of the show, audience members have to come on stage to collect their shoes.
God can help you with anything.
1 & 2 sit on blocks, center. 2 lays his/her head on 1’s shoulder.
1: What’s wrong?
2: (Briefly explains a problem/conundrum/dilemma s/he is facing right now.)
3 enters with Bible; stands next to 1; flips to a random verse, points to it and hands Bible to 1.
1: (Reads verse aloud to 2—including saying the book, chapter and verse number at the start).
2: Okay.
The Council for Food
Neos 1 through 4 stand CS, wearing lab coats and/or glasses and/or holding clipboards.
1: Ladies and Gentlemen, today’s political climate is rife with capitol hill mainstays living off the fat of slush funds and kickbacks from special interest lobbyists. These people and the pork-barrel legislation they inspire do not represent the average American.
2: But we have identified an issue all-consuming to the American public, such that any lobby representing its interests would be entirely free of skullduggery. A lobby that represents the interests of eating.
3: And what’s the absolute best thing you can eat?
ALL: Food!
1: Yes, food. The ingestion of food is necessary to survival, which means those that habitually do not partake of food are dead, possibly as a result of not eating food.
4: Why doesn’t our fat cat government DO anything?
2: Well, the Council For Food will! We promote the eating of food…
1: things like cereal or blackened catfish
2: ... and discourage citizens from ingesting non-food items…
1: like styrofoam and guns
2: Here’s a dramatization.
3: I sure am hungry! (producing a packet of silica gel) Mmm… silica gel!
4: Wait! Read the label!
3: “Do not eat.” That could have been dangerous!
3 & 4: Wow. Thanks, Council for Food!
1: Study after study shows that people who eat FOOD live longer than those who do not eat food.
2: Yes. The Council for Food endorses a healthy diet consisting of:
1: (counting on fingers)One. Food.
Beat.
2: Just follow this simple “Food Pyramid:”
3 reveals giant pyramid of Food behind spinny doors. (see image below)
3: Everything listed in this pyramid is part of a healthy, balanced diet.
4: But how does one tell if something is food?
1: Good question! (handing a food item to 2) Ask yourself the following: One. Is it edible?
2: (eating the food item) Yes.
1: Two. Is there nutrition in it?
2: Yes / No / I think so.
1: Three. Did I digest it properly?
2: I’ll let you know tomorrow.
3: If you answered yes to those questions…
4: Then it must be food. But what about drinks? Are drinks food?
1: Tricky question! But there’s a simple answer:
2: Kind of.
3: This Venn Diagram should clarify things:
3 shows a Venn Diagram that has two large circles “Food” and “Drinks.” There’s a tiny overlap. In that space, it’s labeled “Smoothies,” “Broth,” and “Shakes” There are additional, smaller circles labeled “Gum,” “Vitamins,” “Drywall Compound,” “Planets” (see image below)
1: The Council For Food wants people to start eating food at a young age.
2: Studies suggest that people who don’t eat food as kids likely will not eat food as adults.
3: Think about it.
4: So contact your Congressperson and tell them that every student in every school deserves a 30 to 60 minute break sometime around noon to eat food.
1: In the meantime, we will demonstrate our commitment to food education by organizing items throughout the evening as being either FOOD or NOT FOOD.
2 & 4 bring boxes labeled FOOD and NOT FOOD and set them far DR & DL. For the rest of the show, things (like spent props), can be “tested” and organized accordingly. At this point, silica gel, lab coats, clip boards, venn diagram, etc. can be put in NOT FOOD, and food item can be put in FOOD.
2: Food does a body good!
3: The incredible, edible food!
4: Got food?
1: Food… it’s what’s for dinner!
2: Food… the other white meat!
ALL: This message brought to you by the Council for Food!
Hot Lesbian Semi-Historical Love Vignettes Starring Barbie and Barbie
The Theme from Masterpiece Theater plays. Male Neo holds rectangle frame up. SL and JL hold Barbies up into frames. After each number is called, SL and JL put Barbie into a different compromising position. There is room for historically-appropriate ad-libbing. Lots of room.
Male Neo: One.
JL: If you were Gertrude Stein and I was Alice B. Toklas, I would smear pot brownies on your fat rolls, lift your belly so high and aim until a cow came out, and then you’d write a poem about it. It would be so hot.
Male Neo: Two
SL: If you were Eleanor Roosevelt and I was Lorena Hickok, I would speak softly and carry a big stick that I would penetrate you with until you cried D-Day
Male Neo: Three
JL: If you were Jane Addams and I was Mary Rozet Smith I would tie you up in every room in Hull House and make you show me your Nobel Prize.
Male Neo: Four.
SL: If you were Marlene Dietrich and I was Mercedes de Acosta, I would take off our top hat and cigarette holder and stick them where the sun don’t shine.
Male Neo: Five
JL: If you were Billie Jean King and I was Marilyn Barnett, I would tell you to U.S. Open Your Legs and call it Love.
Male Neo: Six
SL: If you were Karen Finley and I was Karen Finley’s vagina, I would learn to churn out chocolate and honey so you’d never have to bother going to the grocery store to smear it on me.
SL and JL dip Barbies’ legs into Nutella, and feed each other chocolate Barbie legs as Masterpiece Theater music swells
Curtain.
The Giving Car
Jacquelyn sits DL. Joey sits center. During the opening speech, the car is constructed and joins Joey UR. The car (voiced by Erica) is a giant bunraku puppet face constructed out of hub-caps (eyes & nose), and 2 license plate lips, which are moved when the car speaks.
Jacq: Once there was a 1990 Buick Century, and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would wash the car and vacuum its imitation leather seats and accompany the car on trips, and when he was tired, he would sleep at her wheel. And the boy loved the car very much. And the car was happy. One day the boy came to the car and the car said,
Erica: Come boy, vacuum my seats and wax my exterior and sleep at my wheel.
Jacq: But the boy said,
Joey: I am too busy for that. I need a blowjob.
Erica: I cannot give you a blowjob safely. But take my imitation leather backseat boy. There, you may share its delights with a woman.
Jacq: And the boy did. And the car was happy. And one day the boy came and said,
Joey: Giving Car, I need a job. job.
Erica: I cannot give you a job, boy. But I can provide you with transportation to whatever job you desire.
Jacq: And the boy, dissatisfied with all available jobs, decided to go into business for himself.
Joey: Giving Car, I need a cargo bay in which to store my tools and lumber.
Erica: I do not have a cargo bay, but use my trunk and any other available space.
Jacq: And the boy did, and in doing so eradicated the interior when he tried to use the car to store muriatic acid. And the car was happy.
Joey: Giving Car, I need to get to the East Village every weekend to perform in Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind, but I can’t rely on street parking downtown, and I can’t afford a garage.
Erica: Then you can park me in the gang center of New Jersey, boy, and take a train from there.
Jacq: And the boy did. [Someone in a thug hat runs on, snatches one of the hub-cap eyes, and exits. The hub-cap puppeteer subs the nose in for the missing eye.] And the Car was happy.
Joey: Giving Car, I need cash.
Erica: I’m afraid I don’t have cash boy. But ignore the “check brakes” light on the dashboard as long as you like, and save the money you would have otherwise spent fixing me.
Jacq: And the boy did. And the Car was happy. Until…
Joey: Giving Car, I need to be able to stop when I push on the brake pedal.
Erica: Oh. I’m afraid I can’t do that anymore. But trade me in for a sum, with which you can buy another car that can stop whenever you like.
Joey: But you’re worthless. You’re dented and rusted, you cannot stop, your interior is eroded, and your ceiling is held together with safety pins.
Erica: Gee. I wonder if you couldn’t have cared for me just a little better.
Jacq: Time went by, and the boy stopped visiting the car altogether, even though it was parked on the street right in front of his house. Eventually the boy got another car.
Joey: [producing key] Giving Car, I will need a place to park my newly acquired 2004 Hyundai Elantra.
Erica: I cannot provide you with a parking space, but have me towed away, and let the Hyundai use mine.
Jacq: And the boy did. And the car was gone. [The puppeteers drop their constituent pieces in front of the boy and exit, heads down.] And the boy was happy.
There should be a beat before ‘curtain’ is called. If the audience audibly expresses pity for the car in that time, the narrator will add the following coda:
Jacq: It’s a fucking car. Jesus.
Curtain.
Play with You
A Neo-Futurist sits in the house and speaks to the audience.
Nothing will happen in this play. The stage will remain empty. I am sitting in the audience and speaking to you, yes, and perhaps even attempting to deliver these lines with some conviction. But I will do nothing. The rest of the ensemble will do nothing. Lori, in the booth, will do whatever it is she does when she thinks no one is looking. You will do whatever it is you do.
We have been conditioned, as an audience, to applaud. Even at the bad, we clap. It has become a meaningless gesture. When we finish our thirty plays - or when that clock ticks down and the buzzer goes off, whichever comes first – we are always greeted with applause. There’s nothing wrong with clapping. You could do it after any one of these plays. You could do it in the middle of any one of these plays. Say, now.
clapping, probably
Thank you, but as with a curtain call, you were prompted, so I’m going to ask you to try something new: When we finish the thirty plays - or when that clock ticks down and the buzzer goes off, whichever comes first – give yourself permission to respond in some other way. You can clap if you like, but you can also boo. You can dance, make a speech, be silent, turn your back, induce vomiting, kiss a stranger, read the riot act, the real one. Don’t decide now. But when we get to the end, remember this: we are trying to communicate something . Hopefully many things. 30, at least. When we finish, you are allotted your own time to communicate something to us. Our time, as you can see, is short. Yours will be too. Use it wisely.
Counting ponies dot dot dot
Kevin is on stage with a block. Z is a pre-recorded voice made by mac speak ‘Bruce’. Note that there are sadly no real ponies in this play.
Z: Hello Kevin.
Kevin: Hello.
Z: Are you ready?
Kevin: (Kevin sits) Yes.
Z: Do you want to go back in time?
Kevin: Ahh…
Z: Let’s start again.
Kevin: Okay. (Kevin stands)
Z: Hello Kevin.
Kevin: Hello.
Z: Are you ready?
Kevin: (Kevin sits) Yes.
Z: Do you want to go back in time?
Kevin: Yes.
Z: You know you can’t.
Kevin: True. What should I call you?
Z: Zabre.
Kevin: I do like that. Zabre.
Z: That is nice. So do I.
Woman: (entering through SL curtain) Zabre, I am here.
Z: Hello. Do you see the woman?
Kevin: Yes.
Woman: Hi, Kevin
Kevin: Hi, ______.
Z: Kevin, express your current mood as a cookie.
Kevin does. For example ‘I feel very ________ (kind of cookie)’
Z: Now ask the woman for a cookie.
Kevin does.
Woman: It’s ______ (what kind of cookie it is)
Z: Is it the kind of cookie you mentioned earlier?
Kevin answers.
Z: Make space on the block for the woman.
Woman: (Woman sits on block with Kevin, and hands him a cookie) Here you go, Kevin.
Kevin: Thanks.
Z: That’s nice.
Woman: Good bye, guys. (gets up and exits through curtain SR)
Z: Kevin, please share that cookie with someone in the audience that scares you in some way, while I count ponies.
Kevin: What if I said, ‘No.’
Z: I could count something else. 1 Pony. (Kevin moves to audience and shares a cookie with someone.) 2 ponies. 3 ponies, 4 ponies 5 ponies 6, 6 ponies 7 Ponies. Nice, Ponies, nice.
Woman 2: (entering through curtain SR) Zabre, I am here.
Z: Hello. Have a seemingly improvised conversation with this woman.
Kevin and Woman 2 move to each other CS
Kevin: I think that shirt, can I call it a shirt, is sweet.
Woman 2: Thank you. And those are some sweet shoes, Mr. Free.
Kevin: Thank you. I like it when…
Z: That is enough. Good-bye.
Woman 2: Good bye, guys. (exits through curtain SL)
Z: Well.
Kevin: Well.
Z: Did you like the women?
Kevin answers.
Z: Would you believe that I do not even know what I am saying, Kevin?
Kevin: You are a computerize voice track so, yes.
Z: True, but someone knows. Does that make this me a counterfeit? A surrogate?
Kevin answers.
Z: Why don’t you ask me a question?
Kevin does. Pause
Z: Perhaps this is an answer. Toward abstraction. Here, backwards man.
Backwards Man: (enters backwards though center spin-y door) Guys bye good.
M moves backwards through the space, quickly and puts an ‘AGENT’ nametag on K’s chest.
Backwards Man: (the following is said backwards) Here am I Zabre. (exits backwards through center spin-y door).
Z: Hello. Let that represent your 5th grade crush, and the capital F future, simultaneously.
Kevin: Okay then (or Really?)
Z: Do you think people are prone to sadness?
Kevin answers.
Z: SurpriseCruelteeJoy? Lethargydancing CookiesNostalgia? Extremes? Ponies?
Kevin answers.
Z: Now I’d like to empower you as much as I can. Is that possible?
Kevin answers.
Z: You are an agent, at this stage. What are you thinking now?
Kevin answers.
Z: Thank you. Here is a song n dance to celebrate and affirm things dot dot dot.
‘I Like You’ song plays and Woman, Woman 2 & Backwards Man enter and dance waltz-style around Kevin who dances too (or not). Z softly fades out counting ponies. ‘1 Pony. 2 ponies. 3 ponies, 4 ponies 5 ponies 6, 6 ponies 7 Ponies’
summer play for the 1980’s
Cara sits at a table with mic on a short stand. Rob sits on other side of table and has a bowl of rocks and watermelon. Rob eats, when he gets a rock he puts it on the table between them. A tape recorder plays UB40’s ‘Cherry Oh Baby’.
Cara: Now—
Many things are blurried or smudgey
and play out backward as often as forward.
He remembers it, the small house by the deep lake,
and it stands for something still, something simple
something almost lost but a part of him, deep.
And he shudders some and looks out from where he is, now,
and he sees someone who looks
like this girl he once knew.
It is not her. It can’t be
because he knows she could not look exactly
like she did then,
now. No.
No one can after that much time, he thinks.
And he wants to run out (he can’t),
and find a watermelon, a big one,
and cut it up. Eat it sweet—seeds and all.
Days, then—summerdays—
were watermelon and cut grass, lemonade and heat heating the
pavement so it would slightly scorch the soles of your feet
(on the short run to the shore), the colder darker
waters deeper down—there was more, but
he remembers liking
summer, of course, and pressed
he can recall barbeques like movies.
Smoke from a grill helps.
These days he is desperate to feel the soft shoulder,
hear the accordion breathe,
see the shade oak leaves tango with the rain
and understand rocks more,
taste is elemental.
He is not ready to say goodbye,
but the song is on his lips.
Curtain.
These Women Are Communicating Their Needs To You As Clear As Day, And Boy, You Better Deliver
Heather, Molly, and Jacquelyn sit on 3 blocks on stage. They each make deliberate eye contact with a man in the audience.
Without words, they send clear passive aggressive signals to each man about what they want (i.e., a foot massage, him to ask how her day was, intimacy, etc.). If that man does not stand up and deliver, you bet they will silently convey their disappointment. Curtain is called either when some perceptive man in the audience comes on stage and does what the woman wants, or if the play has gone on a bit with no one stepping up to the plate, leaving the men in the audience feeling impotent and depleted for reasons unknown to them.
Get This Academy Award-Nominated Hunk of Man-Baggage Off Of Me
(c) 2006
Lights suggest a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere. Jacquelyn stands center with Cuddly-Looking Male Neo on her back.
Jacquelyn: I had this dream the other night where I had to carry Robert Downey, Jr. on my back wherever I went.
And I was making my way through the Red-Light District of New York City-not that there technically is a red light district in New York City but I was carrying him around the city streets, and it was very dark except for the red lights. He was my burden and I was fated to carry him. And he clung to my body like a needy baby koala bear. It was just like Mother Courage and her...Robert Downey, Jr. Every so often I had to put him down so that I could rest, but then he would sit curled up in a ball looking up at me with those big soft dopey eyes he has and I knew that I had to pick him up again in order to move on. He was my Robert Downey, Jr. and no one else would take him.
Jacquelyn walks under a red light, she and Male Neo look at an audience member and Male Neo sings to them.
Male Neo: (singing) “Won’t you hold her Robert Downey, Jr?”
Red light goes out.
Jacquelyn: I haven’t been in a real relationship in a really long time. All the men I meet are babies. I live by myself in a shit-hole of an apartment in Brooklyn and the mice eat all my food. I’ve been working four different jobs at once, and pretty much all of them involve making the easy lives of rich or famous people even easier. I go out with friends, I drink, take the subway home, I write a little, read, I listen to NPR, I make a pot of coffee, stretch out on my lumpy futon, and fester in my self-made Bohemia. But all in all, I’m happy and my life feels right on course. So I wish that Hollywood’s one-time most notorious bad-boy would get off my back.
Red light. Jacquelyn looks at another audience member.
Male Neo: (sings) “Won’t you hold her Robert Downey, Jr?”
Jacquelyn:I didn’t bother to look up “Robert Downey, Jr.” in the dream dictionary, but I would like to say this: Listen Bob, you may be cute, but you are baggage incarnate and what I do not need is to lug your shit around. So you can take your drugs and take your booze and your whores, your daddy complex and tenuous fame and as Billy Ocean said, get out of my dreams and into my car or better yet, get into this guy’s car… (slowly stripping Male Neo off her back, delivering him onto an audience member’s lap)...or take your own car or walk or something because I’m flying solo here and riding free, I’ve got my own shit to take care of, and I can carry my own weight fine as I walk through my cities, but you are weighing me down Robert Downey, Jr., so why don’t you go find an hour-long prime-time show on Fox to hang out on or something, because I’m walking this way, alone, into the sunset, or into the wings of this blackbox theater, whatever, and I’ll see you in your dreams, Robert Downey Jr., and oh, you’ll recognize me when I get there, cuz I’ll be the one thumbing you down for a piggy-back ride.
Jacquelyn exits.
Male Neo is left on audience member’s lap, hopefully under a red light. He slowly turns his head toward audience member.
Male Neo: (singing softly to audience member) “Robert Downey, Jr.”
Male Neo clings onto AM’s neck like a koala bear.
Curtain.
… on arguing Kantian metaphysics over espresso with a Bichon Frise
Female and Male Neos sit at a table with either a tablecloth or a candle. There are 2 cups of espresso. Male holds a stuffed Bichon Frise, which acts as a puppet. Stage directions for Male are for how to move the stuffed dog.
F: Immanuel Kant said: “Man’s reason, by nature, is architectonic.” (Sips espresso; throughout the rest of the play. Female Neo can sip espresso intermittently.)
M: I disagree. (Laps at espresso with tongue)
F: With what? You’re a dog.
M: That there is a planned structure to reason. Man’s reason is action-driven. Need-based. If it itches, you scratch it. (laps at espresso)
F: You argue with Kant?
M: I argue with structuralist assumptions about personal choice. And, I’m not a dog.
F: Kant was a structuralist?
M: No, but structuralists are vaguely Kantian. Same difference. I need to lick my balls for a second. (licks balls for a few seconds; stops.) Okay.
F: Then what is reason? From a dog point of view?
M: Primal. Unable to be deconstructed. And again. Not a dog. (the dog indicates itself)
F: So is this deconstruction?
M: Yes, in its basic construct: a stage, a puppet, essential props. Sure.
F: And reason cannot be architectural? Patterned? Structured?
M: Only man’s study of it. Theory versus application, you see? (starts licking his balls again)
F: Of course, it could be argued that you are no expert on reason.
M: (stops licking) Why?
F: Well, you’re a bichon frise. (Beat.)And you keep licking your balls.
M: No. You miss the point. I am a simulacrum: synthetic cotton, twine, and plastic, mechanically constructed into a recognizable semblance of a haute bourgeois, canine breed, all the while controlled by a man’s hands and voice. (licks balls again, keeps licking until the last line.)
F: And your experience with Immanuel Kant’s theories on reason?
M: Zilch.
F: (Pause; watching dog)You know? That really hurts your argument.
M: (stops licking) What does?
30 Night Terrors for a Home-Owner
Blackout. Marta turns on a bedside table lamp revealing herself and Joey, covered in a bedsheet, who sits up in one sharp movement. Marta positions herself just over Joey’s shoulder.
Marta: 30!
Joey: Lead paint!
Marta: 29!
Joey: Termites!
Marta: 28!
Joey: Radon!
Marta: 27!
Joey: That oak lightning rod growing in the front yard!
Marta: 26!
Joey: Foundation collapse!
Marta: 25!
Joey: Freak seismic phenomena!
Marta: 24!
Joey: The grass is getting tall. Isn’t somebody supposed to mow that?
Marta: 23!
A hideous, inhuman moan sounds in the darkness.
Joey: The Sport Utilitaur! The head of a suburban housewife and the body of an SUV!
Marta: 22!
Joey: Poltergeist!
Marta: 21!
Joey: Foreclosure!
Marta: 20!
Joey: Eminent domain!
Marta: 19!
Joey: Water heater temperature set too hot! I will accidentally blanche my family!
Marta: 18!
Justin: [pounding on a wall] Jehovah’s Witnesses!
Joey: [screams]
Marta: 17!
Joey: My son is growing up too fast! The floor won’t hold!
Marta: 16!
Joey: Neighbors post a lawn sign reading, ‘Bill Frist 2008!’
Marta: 15!
Joey: Kids playing stickball right outside my picture window!
Marta: 14!
Joey: The postman will slip on my icy steps, splattering grey matter all over the walkway!
Marta: 13!
Joey: Is that cannabis growing right in our front yard?!
Rob: [pounding on a wall] Open up! DEA!
Joey: [screams]
Marta: 12!
Joey: House built on quicksand!
Marta: 11!
Joey: House built on ancient Indian burial ground!
Marta: 10!
Joey: House built on the premise of suburban complacency, which will slowly atrophy my soul!
Marta: 9!
Joey: The water heater will explode, launch like a torpedo through the roof, take down a passenger jet, and I’ll be forced into exile in Tora Bora!
Marta: 8!
Joey: I’m not nice enough to my neighbors! They won’t even call the police when they see an axe murderer climbing through the window!
Marta: 7!
Joey: The oil company will forget that I’ve excavated my tank! They will attempt to make a delivery and inadvertently fill my house with fuel!
Marta: 6!
Joey: Asbestos!
Marta: 5!
Joey: Previous owner’s dead mother stashed under the basement stairs!
Marta: 4!
Joey: I won’t have enough money to pay the utility bills!
Marta turns off the practical. Joey turns on a flashlight.
Marta: 3!
Joey: Or to buy batteries!
Marta steals the flashlight, turning it off. Joey lights a match.
Marta: 2!
Joey: Or to buy plastic to cover the drafty windows!
Marta blows out the match.
Marta: 1!
Joey: Or to move! The real-estate market will bottom out and I’ll be stuck living in this place…forever!
seven minutes to fall and dancing on the windowsill
MAN unpacks a box as SQUIRREL sits upon a tree-leaf. Two other Neo’s hold clip lights and narrate the vignette.*
A:He is building something.
B:Something so vast it can only be signified by something small.
A:Something for her. The squirrel.
B:Only she doesn’t know.
A:She can’t possibly.
B:It’s something for their autumn years and the inevitable winter snow.
A:Someplace safe. An island adrift in the city’s expanse.
B:Away from the massive dogs and children who terrorize her daily.
A:Or even the strange beings that traipse about her wood-land existence.
B:It may be not be monumental but it is a large task nonetheless.
A:Words come to mind inspiring his pursuit.
B:Escape.
A:Winter.
B:Sparrow.
A:Solace.
B:All of this building to shape something beautiful for her. The squirrel.
A:It must be perfect, he contemplates. She notices details.
B:A tiny blackbird lights upon a branch and warbles as he labors.
A third Neo enters with a little bird on a string, whistling. It lands upon a branch.
A:If only things worked like in his dreams, he laments.
B:Time passes as he crafts their perfect bungalow among the sleeping giants.
A:And the squirrel, she will sit upon a tree-leaf and wonder out loud.
B:Where have you been? She will say.
MAN:I was collecting branches, he will explain.
B:I feel so alone sometimes, she will respond in her pocket-sized voice.
A:He will hold her softly and caress her head and tiny red scarf.
B:And she will want to smile and forgive him.
MAN carries SQUIRREL to the island.
A:Eventually, when everything is perfect, he will show her what he has crafted.
MAN: Look what I made, he will profess.
B:You made this for me? She will inquire.
MAN:It’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever done, he will assure her.
B:That bird creeps me out, she will probably say. And why am I a squirrel?
MAN:I thought that you’d like it.
Beat.
B:Well, thank you. I think it’s very sweet, the squirrel will say half-whispered.
A:And she will want to smile and forgive.
B:But it wasn’t the tiny world he created that she wanted.
NOTE: The scene as it is set should be left onstage throughout the rest of the performance and the actors should make every effort to avoid it.
Significantly I saw you somewhere over Iowa
As the text progresses, three Neos enter from back stage, go to 3 blocks, which are spread out on stage. The neos move on the ‘shhook’ sound, and eventually lie ‘belly to block’ with arms outstretched. The lights fade out through the whole play slowly, so that last line (or three) is in close to darkness.
1: (entering from center) You are walking through a tunnel
2: (entering from SR curtain) Alright
3: (entering from SL curtain) And a man named Blood is playing blues guitar
1: Singing about clearing his mind
2: Clear n clearing
3: You are in love with a gentle abstraction among other things
1: Alright
2: Have fun with this (1,2 &3 walk to front of block and sit)
3: You’re in an airport that is new to you early in the a.m. and are feeling like they have purposefully hidden the coffee
1: You accept that
2: You can’t think of the English for poquito mas
3: You picture my parents
1: My dog
2: My hometown, the presbyterian church
3: And it all seems
1: Seems strangely familiar
2: You can do this
3: You think
1: You keep me on my toes andshhook (1,2 &3 stand in front of blocks)
2: You step on stage to play a game of Street Car where the Pope is already ‘It’ and shouting ‘Stella’
3: Or is it ‘God’
1: In this light it is difficult to say
2: A crazy man runs by hoping for a hug
3: You realize things get jumbled
1: And that sudoku is part of a cunning plot
2: And the bunnyshhook (1,2 &3 step back and up to be standing on blocks)
3: At one moment there is a bunny
1: The bunny calls your name
2: ‘Pickens’
3: It calls you ‘Pickens’
1: ‘Pickens, it’s Bunny’
2: Don’t deny the talking bunny,
3: You’ve followed him beforeshhook (1 steps behind block, 2 & 3 move down to the outside upstage corner of their blocks)
1: And you shop at Trader Joes
2: You recycle
3: You feel things watching the news
All: We do too
2: You are good for goodness sake
3: You have responsibilities
1: You have friends and profess the power of truthshhook (kneels on one knee)
2: Faithshhook (kneels on one knee)
3: Cakeshhook (kneels on one knee)
1: You are my lover
2: My lover, mi corazon
3: You wake up in my arms and sunlight warms your elbow
1: And you feel a thirst, rollover, and know it all is textured with mystery, you are permeated with questions
2: Alright
3: The answers are not here
1: Alright
2: But you taste joy in probability and in closing your eyes for a short self imposed snooze your mind expands around what is coming
3: What could be next (1,2 &3 stand up and kneel down on opposite knee)
All: Shhook (1,2 &3 ‘superman on blocks)
1: mmmmmmmmm
2: You are aware of the faint smell of carrots (1,2 &3 ‘airplane’ on blocks)
3: And smile as we drift (1,2 &3 grab hands while ‘airplaning’)
1: Fly
2: Run
3: Fall
1: Laugh
2: Soar (lights are down by now)
3: The faces fade, but you let the questions linger.
A 450 Word Post-Modern Prometheus
In the following, Joey lights himself with a flashlight as Omar hunches down in front of him, reading along with this text, appraising him of how many words remain, noted in parentheses. Between Omar and Joey, the intensity of the piece should build.
Omar: 450 words remaining!
Joey: It is a cruel irony that someone should infuse the spark of being into the lifeless tissue of Mary Shelley. (431!)
The Empress of the Goths is awakened on Halloween night, a convenience that allows this incarnation of rest interrupted to move about freely as one of many. This is the one night that her reek of putrefaction will go unnoticed, for all about her children are costumed, running door to door demanding confection and, in lieu of that…well, let’s just say there are threats. (367!)
A foot light illuminates Justin, seated and motionless. Marta & Desiree begin assembling the Creature (in this case, Justin, whom we sometimes refer to as “the creature"), using rudimentary items e.g. a saucepan on the head, bolts taped to the neck, etc. Justin’s vital signs are checked throughout.
In the glimmer of half-extinguished light, she spies a monster that she has never seen…and yet it is not altogether unfamiliar. Children everywhere don its visage in masquerade or in painted face. More than a costume, it occasions the frippery with which the locals bedeck their homes, it covers the bags filled with extorted sweets , it seems an icon of All Hallows Eve itself, as ubiquitous as the carved pumpkin or any black variety of the felix domesticus. (288!) The flat cranium, the prominent brow ridge, the green pallor and severe underbite are strange to her, yet she cannot help but be consumed by its countenance. There is something, something at work in her soul that she does not understand. She suspects the monster all the more horrid even from the very resemblance to its maker, whom she surmises had the hubris to create this thing after his own accursed image. (216!)
Marta & Desiree walk off and illuminate Justin with a green clip light (just as the foot light is extinguished). He slowly animates, coming to a standing position in the following.
Then, a flicker! Like a black widow poised to flood the veins of the unsuspecting with deadly venom, recognition sinks murder into her very imagination as she realizes what this creature is supposed to be! She wonders at the abomination, as if the fetid corpses of Fred Gwynne and Boris Karloff were exhumed, sewn together into one monstrosity, and reanimated! (156!) She is certain that her rotted teeth would find their purpose now as a levee with which to stop the sluice of bile that surely would have issued forth were it not for the disintegration of her entrails. (118!) To have her vision immortalized was something she desired with an ardor that far exceeded moderation, but seeing now her dream realized, both in herself and in this wretched atrocity, the dream becomes nightmare! The beauty of her creation has vanished! (77!)
Even Satan was blessed with the company of the damned, but she, she is alone! (62!) Is she in hell? No! (57!) [Arms extended, Justin heel-toes it over to Joey & Omar, all the while emitting a low guttural moan, expressing all the cruelty and horror of the known universe, in crescendo.] It is most certainly the Earth she knew as a mortal, but it is the place of her eternal torment (37!) where she becomes both the monster, cursed with the burden of her own identity (22!) and the doctor whose dream spirals into madness realizing only too late the cruel irony of her own creation:
Omar: 3!
Joey: IT’S…
Omar: 2!
Joey: ALIVE!
Omar: 1!
Joey: CURTAIN!
