Wholesale Only

DENIS, the manager, 50s, full beard, ring
CARLOS, late 30s, go-t, skull belt buckle, ring
BILL, 40s, stash, more than a beer gut
RYAN, 20s, homely, physically fit
BRUCE, 40s, calm and hushed, even dopey, works the forklift
GABRIEL, an angel

(6:30AM.
Lights out in store.
DENIS unlocks the door and enters. The door sounds that chipper, two-toned, electronic, modern-age bell noise when opened.)

BRUCE
Morning.

DENIS (startled)
Woah!

BRUCE
Just me Denis.

DENIS (turning the lights on)
Yes. Good morning Bruce.

BRUCE
Morning.

DENIS (flipping the “CLOSED” sign)
Bruce, do you have a key?

BRUCE
Nope.

DENIS
… Okay. (beat) Okay, I’m going to see what we need more of from the warehouse.

BRUCE
I’ll bring the fork around.

DENIS
Okay.

(Both exit.
Enter CARLOS.)

DENIS(off)
You’re late.

CARLOS
Morning Denis.

DENIS (off)
Carlos. Morning. Could ya turn on the counter?

CARLOS
Yup. (turning on the counter’s computers) You got the coffee going?

DENIS (off)
Not yet.

(Enter BILL.)

DENIS (con’t, off)
You’re late.

BILL
Good morning to you too.

CARLOS
Hell Bill, could you get some coffee going.

BILL
Can I come in please. Can I get in the door and settled.

(BILL joins CARLOS behind the counter, stacks whatever paper he can find into a pile, and puts a pen in his shirt pocket.)

CARLOS
Should I make the coffee?

BILL
No. Fine. I’m making it. Not like you couldn’t have made it.

CARLOS
Well -

BILL
I’m already doing it.

CARLOS
Fine.

(BILL is at the coffee machine stage right.
Pause.)

BILL (to Carlos)
We need filters.

CARLOS
Tell Denis.

BILL (calling)
We need filters.

DENIS (off)
Right.

BILL (to Carlos)
Everything on schedule so far?

(CARLOS stares at his monitor and doesn't respond.)

Carlos?

CARLOS
Need somethin’?

BILL
No. Coffee’s ready.

CARLOS
I take milk and two sugars.

BILL
Yeah.

(BILL takes his coffee behind the counter and CARLOS goes to make his.
Enter RYAN.)

RYAN
Mornin’ guys.

DENIS (off)
You’re late. Mornin’.

CARLOS
Yo Ryan.

RYAN
Hey Carlos. Waiting on any orders yet?

CARLOS
Man, you know those guys are still in bed.

RYAN
Yeah. Coffee smells good.

BILL
You’re welcome.

RYAN
Thanks Bill.

(RYAN goes to the coffee as CARLOS returns to the counter.)

RYAN (calling)
Need help Denis?

DENIS (off)
Have your coffee.

RYAN
Then?

DENIS(entering left)
Then tell Bruce I need at least six more of the hi-speed indoor units - you got a pen?

RYAN (retrieving pen and pad from shirt)
Yup.

DENIS
QCIC09A.

RYAN
Hm.

DENIS
And QCIC12A

RYAN
Yup.

DENIS
And... that’s it for now.

RYAN
Yup.

(RYAN finishes making his coffee and exits.)

DENIS
Morning Bill.

BILL
Hey Denis, sleep well?

DENIS
Not enough.

BILL
I hear ya. (to CARLOS) How was your night?

CARLOS
Drunk and disorderly.

BILL
Ha.

(BRUCE enters.)

CARLOS
Mornin’ Bruce, how’s you?

BRUCE
Oh, yeah, keepen on. You?

CARLOS
Can’t complain.

BILL
Yet.

BRUCE
Hey Bill.

BILL
Hiya Bruce.

BRUCE (to Denis)
We’re all set ‘round back.

DENIS
Okay. ... Okay.

(Powerout. Sunlight comes in slightly from the front door.)

CARLOS
Oh for Christ’s sake - this again!

DENIS
Bruce, you wana-

BRUCE
Just a sec-

(He lights a large flashlight and aimlessly scans the room.)

BILL
It’s still unbelievable this place has no windows.

DENIS
It’s not a store, -

ALL
It’s a supply house!

DENIS
That’s right!

BILL
Oh but if these walls could talk.

CARLOS
What? They would recite product code numbers and measurements of PVC.

BILL
And god damned contractor’s complaints!

CARLOS
Tumbling, sirens.

BILL
Not so many sirens anymore.

CARLOS
You sure?

BILL
Also –

(A toilet flushes loudly.)

DENIS (re-entering)
What?

CARLOS
In the dark?

DENIS
I could hear it was hitting the water... after a second. No one has tried to turn us back on? Come on guys.

(BRUCE points the flashlight upstage and all move in that direction. Then, suddenly: pressure gages squeal, pips rattle, drills spin, sirens sound, liquids spill, the printers print, the front door ring chimes, lights flicker, whole racks scrape back and forth - the works. Then everything stops sans the flickering lights.)

CARLOS
... Oh hell no.

BILL
Yes. Let’s go.

(As they move toward the door it slams shut. A ring that is the ominous opposite of the original sounds.)

DENIS
Uhhh....

BILL
What?!

DENIS
Uhhh....

CARLOS
Christ.

DENIS
I don’t know what to do! I don’t know!

CARLOS
Yeah. I’m crushed.

BRUCE
Wow.

BILL
Ah! Bruce!! Bruce I damn near shit myself!

BRUCE
Sorry.

CARLOS
Ok. ... Ok.

BILL
Ok? ... Ok.

DENIS
The circuit breaker. We should just keep going.

CARLOS
Ok.

BILL
Ok.

(All three start to move. There is a bellowing, cavernous sound that stops CARLOS and BILL.)

DENIS
Just keeeeeep moving.

CARLOS (blessing himself)
I think it wants us to confess!

DENIS
Keeeeep going.

BILL
I don’t understand. We have to get it. I know it. That’s just how these things are. We have to get out of here.

CARLOS
That made no sense.

BILL
This from a man who prays.

CARLOS
Better that-

(A thud.)

DENIS
I’m close to the switch!

BRUCE (turning the flashlight on himself)
Do we think it is afraid of the dark?

DENIS
Not now Bruce! Light this way!

Carlos (to BILL)
I though he had a point.

DENIS
I’ll have to find a latter first.

(Loud clattering.)

CARLOS (to BILL)
Poor old guy.

BILL
Alright! I’ll come!

(They move up toward DENIS, BRUCE follows them, his light becoming muffled as it approaches their backs. A few mumbled moments pass. Then full power is restored. The place is every bit the mess it sounded like it would be. All four men slowly approach center moving as a terrified, rotating clump.)

BRUCE
That was....

BILL
Yes, it was.

BRUCE
That was...

DENIS
It might still be.

BRUCE
This is...

CARLOS
Unnatural.

BRUCE
And - and this is - this is scary.

CARLOS
Okay. Why? Why is this happening?

BILL
To assume a reason seems a bit presumptuous.

DENIS
We have to try to get out of here.

(No one moves.)

BILL
There’snoplacelikehome, There’snoplacelikehome, there’snoplacelikehome...

CARLOS
On three.

DENIS
One...

BILL
Two...

(RYAN enters through the front door. Original ring sounds.)

DENIS
Ryan!

RYAN
What happened?

BILL
Go back out!

(RYAN goes to open the door but it’s suddenly locked.)

RYAN
Now how the-

DENIS
People can come in but on one can leave!

CARLOS
Abandon hope-

BILL
Shut up fool!

RYAN (doing it as he says it)
Guess we should turn the sign back then.

(The room becomes inhabited again.)

CARLOS
What in hell does it want?

RYAN
... What on Earth...

DENIS
Come here!!

(RYAN joins the others. It stops.)

RYAN
So. There’s a plan?

BILL
What are we calling it?

CARLOS (uga-buga)
It has many names...

DENIS
Who cares!

BRUCE
It. I think it knows us. It seems. I think it knows.

CARLOS
It does seem like it knows us.

RYAN
And doesn’t like me.

BILL
We should think of a deliberately unthreatening name.

RYAN
Blooper!

CARLOS
Nice.

RYAN
That’s my fish’s name.

BILL
You name your fish?

CARLOS
Perfect.

DENIS
That’s your fish’s name?

RYAN
Yes. Yes.

BRUCE
Did you name it Ryan?

RYAN
My sister.

BILL
That’s strange.

CARLOS
You don’t name your fish?

BILL
No.

DENIS
Are we really doing this? … No, I don’t name them.

BRUCE
Yes, I do. I name some of my tools too.

DENIS
Right.

RYAN
Why not Bill? Would you ever just call a dog by “dog”?

BILL
I’ve never needed to call a fish.

CARLOS
They’re alive.

DENIS
They’re really more of a visual stimulus you have to feed.

BRUCE
They’re alive.

BILL
So are plants. You name trees?

RYAN
No.

BRUCE
Uh, guys…

BILL (to Carlos)
And you?

CARLOS
Fish move.

DENIS
So do-

BRUCE
You-.

DENIS
And also-

CARLOS
They clearly deserve a name.

BRUCE
What doesn’t?

RYAN
A shit rose.

DENIS
Which smells like?

RYAN
Just sweet.

(CARLOS makes a brake for the front door pulling on its locked handle tirelessly and slamming his body against it.
They rush to him and restrain him.)

BRUCE
We got you.

CARLOS
Okay. Yes. We’ve got this. We can do this.

DENIS
You’re all right?

CARLOS
Course.

BRUCE
Did any of you know it before today?

(Silence. Then:)

RYAN
Well shit.

BILL
... We’ve all lived so far.

DENIS
Did we all cause this?

(Silence. Then:)

CARLOS
Talk about in it together.

RYAN
Yeah, one for all... ... heh, and all for one.

DENIS
That’s us - wholesale only.

BRUCE
I’m not so scared anymore.

BILL
There’s a comforting thought.

BRUCE
We’ve got all of us.

DENIS
It’s got all of us.

CARLOS (yelling)

What do you want?!

RYAN
The printers.

BILL
I think work can wait!

RYAN
No. They’re on!

(RYAN rushes to the printers and grabs the printed page from one, looks at it, then takes the page from the others.)

They’re all the same.

CARLOS
Come back here!

DENIS
Read it!

RYAN (reading)
Am I dead? Love, Gabriel. (beat) Same on every page. Am I dead? Love, Gabriel.

CARLOS
… That’s gonna be an affirmative there champ.

(The room becomes inhabited.)

I’m sorry! Forgive me!

(The room calms.)

DENIS
How did it find its way – How did you find your way here?

(No response.)

BRUCE
So. I’d say we’re off to a good start.



A genetics laboratory. It is both the same actors and characters superimposed on a new profession and circumstance:

Postcards From the Edge

“… the landscape is just” just, just “…asphyxiating.”
I mean breath.
Take.
Give.
alias at the ready (Mr. & Mrs. Shmuldor)
Where the Sidewalk Ends
Childcare (one word)
relative sanity (= ?)
beyond evolution/ next Darwiniation
Do you even love yourself enough to write this poem tonight.
I know there is a poem tonight.
Something about the Vikings versus Columbus.
Though at the end, I may not know what it says.
Or where we are. (“here, here!”)
Like Borges' prisoner.
And the man that was his mirror.
And on and on,
Back and forth
between
Unknown and unknowable
An M.C. Escher visual
Vertigo
James Stewart playing ping-pong against a wall
The plot points of Forest Gump
Scream with the fall
Stockholm syndrome
“Take me with you.”
(How many fluid ounces of liquid are you?)
I'm home soon.

Outline of the situation as it stands right now

So there's something of a situation… possibly. Hopefully? Possibly not.

The problem is she listens just a bit too closely.
We’d never had a formal no-strings-attached conversation.
And before this started we were really just friendly (both of us agree) so it was inevitable that we were going to get much closer.
Anyway so obviously we got to be bonafide friends. (Though still within a limited scope somehow – but, you know, isn’t everything?! It’s really is.)
emotional investment
“I’m basically telling you everything I told her when I felt the need to be conclusive.”
I guess I should use a better word.
I wish I had used a different word rather.
Because this is all very much still happening.
Definitive.
That's the word I hope I meant.
Though if something that is “definitive” is (only) temporary what good is it?
So I made it clear: I prefaced extensively, went through all this and more (I had actually listed bullet points but I didn’t dare take out a sheet of paper. And I remembered fine anyway.), then I sorta pre-apologized (which she has said annoys her so I really have to stop), and I told her I didn’t ever (not “never”, I said “I don’t ever”) want to depend on you for anything more than I am now. I told her, quote, there will never be an us (I did air quotes in a pathetic manner I instantly regretted) this for me will always be simply (not “just” but simply) a really enjoyable and valuable this (air quotes again which I thought made the earlier embarrassment seem well thought-out, despite the whole statement being an essentially useless parsing of terms)
She just laughed at me in vaguely dismissive matter. We didn’t need to talk long following that and I was pleased the whole issue was laid to rest pretty quickly. Before I knew it we touching and I felt very much at peace.
broad speculation
what’s out of my control? how much is control worth to me?
following night: new question that we’d talked about before.
And this is where you come in.
So if you wanted to head out with us one night, and then come home with us, and then go to bed with– no no no, that’s a horrible way to do that.
direct, lighthearted Proposition.
sexuality discussion (maybe have to address “Why is this homo sleeping with this girl?” which I don’t even understand myself, identify vs. identity, bla bla bla ((most likely he won’t even bring any of this up and if he doesn’t I’m sure as hell not going to.)))
The question at hand.
Really the whole thing isn’t much of a situation at all. I got this.

----

What if I just can’t afford her? (I mean, the whole idea of that is considered acceptable right? Do I feel like I’m morally superior? Is that acceptable? It’s all about how value is assigned. Right? Wrong?)

-----------

Aspiration/ Testosterone/ Rakoff/ desire/ Williams/ “the here and now”/ contentment/ sleep/ curiosity/ Numerology/ morning wood

The World On a String

This and That stand alone.

This: I wish I knew where we were.
That: You know damn well.
This: I know I’m tired of your assumptions. Which make an ass out of you and - um, mptions!
That: Ba!

This: Thank you.
That: Why?
This: Cause I couldn’t do this on my own.
That: Sure you could.
This: No.
That: You just don’t believe it yet - only reason I’m useful to you. (stern) My whole purpose - honestly, I’m kind of pissed about it.
This: Yu...-
That: It’s okay you have nothing to say. I’ve had a lot longer to think about this.
This: I’m... sorry.
That: Don’t bother, opposed to nothing, I got the better deal in the end.

This takes out and begins to use a yo-yo with a fraying string.

That: Whatcha doen?
This: Setting up the metaphor.
That: I’m sorry?
This: Don't be.
That: Oh. Please, don’t do that. Do play off the obvious alternate meanings of words.
This: (beat) And a fuck you to you too.
That: What’s that all ya got?
This: It’s just. I’ve given this so much meaning. Too much. Truly, far too much.
That: Like Nike. You gotta do it. Just -
This: You don’t understand.

This does an elaborate trick with the yo-yo.

This: I have to run. But I’ll remember you.
That: Thanks.
This: I will.
That: Thank you.

This: We’re closer to the end than the beginning.
That: True.
This: Scary...
That: As much as inevitability’s scary. And is it? After a while?
This: You’ve thought about this too.
That: I’ve had a lot of time for it.
This: Yeah.
That: But not to worry, you’re older than you’ve ever been just a moment ago.

This: I wish I knew whatever you think you know.
That: I think it would force you to forget a lot of what I wish I could remember.
This: What?
That: (irritated) If I knew....
This: I’m sorry.
That: Don’t bother.

That starts to leave.

This: Where are you going?
That: Back.
This: But wait. You haven't told me where we are!

The yo-yo severs from its string.

That: Deal with it.

That exits.
This tentatively heads off in the opposite direction.

Forgotten and Forgotten

Memo:

I know someone who has never held a grudge.
And will never
hold
on! each saturday afternoon this person jogs.
She (yeah it's a woman now. In fact, it is whatever I say it is you shut up.) wants only the best for everyone
Like I do.
"I do."
Don't I?
Don't we?
He desires nothing.
Everything is beautiful.
This person would never hurt you.
Or know you.
At all.
(you should know) I tried so hit this person for you.
But I
miss. you
know.

Hits You Like a Slap In the Face

“Thou art to me a delicious torment.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of man.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche
“I've already told you: the only way to a woman's heart is along the path of torment. I know none other as sure.”
- Marquis De Sade

Got the black and blues.
I want to talk about what we should say.
Then I want to talk about the way you talk to me.
Later I want to talk about Ella Fitzgerald.
I wana know all the horrible things you’ve called yourself, and yes, I do know it will hurt.
“Abject masochism.” (asshole)
Quite hittin’ yourself!
Really, I don’t like to see bruises on you.
I don’t care if you don’t mind or what we like.
"Fucking hit me already!" (please)
And hey, maybe it really 'aint nobody’s business if Lady Day gets beat up by her Papa.
What are we actually talking about right now?
An excess of testosterone.
point: Why do we have to be talking about this?
counter-point: How would you like to spank somebody?
The actress was in make-up that made it look like she’d been beaten up really really bad.
She wore it to the laundry mat and watched people avert their eyes. On the occasion someone asked, she interrupted exclaiming, “I’m in love! I’m finally truly, truly in love! And it feels great.”


“No, really, how you fellen? … You doen good?... Glad to hear it."
"Who's in charge here?"
"I'm not keeping score."
"That's not what I asked."
"Who did this to you?"
"I tip my hairdresser well."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"I'm certain I don't."
"Things are being done to people and people are feeling stuff because of things that are happening."
"Yeah. Yeah, that seems to be pretty much what's going on."
"There are a bunch of things that are just wrong, then there's a lot of stuff that's all fine, there are a few particularly good things and then there's a mess of stuff that's tragically miscategorized."
"I'm going to have to be going."
"Stay out of trouble."
"I am trouble."
"Well, be good to yourself then. You deserve it."
"What?"
"I said, You -"
"No, I heard you. Thanks. You too."

Wholly Hell

Scene 2 (ish): Ralphie, Leo, and Sparkles are in Central Park. Perhaps something – a football or bomb or frisbee – is being thrown from person to person throughout.

Sparkles: Two-o’clock.
Ralphie: It’s not two-o’clock.
Sparkles: I know.
Ralphie: Oh.
Sparkles: Two-o’clock. I do not enjoy that time.
Ralphie: As a time?
Sparkles: Yes.
Leo: Sure. Like that time of day. Yeah?
Sparkles: I guess…
Ralphie: How do yu feel about noon?
Sparkles: Well, I like it…
Leo: But…
Sparkles: It is lying.
Leo: What now?
Sparkles: Twelve noon should be when the sun is directly overhead. And it isn’t. Because of the trains and the plains we needed to regulate the time.
Ralphie: Oh and so time zones.
Sparkles: And so noon –
Leo: Is a lie!
Ralphie: I don’t like three thirty-three. Thinks it’s so clever…
Sparkles: Two-o’clock.
Leo: How about two-fifteen?
Sparkles: Better that two.
Leo: I hate whatever time it is when my alarm goes off.
Ralphie: Word.
Leo: And midnight doesn’t honestly mean that much to me.
Sparkles & Ralphie: Me neither!
Ralphie: Six thirty-six is good stuff.
Sparkles: Eleven-eighteen – my baby brother entered the word.
Leo: Four-twenty baby!!
Ralphie: How’sabout four forty-eight?
Sparkles: How’sabout don’t be a jackass.

Pause.

Leo: … If you play with fire….
Ralphie: Oh shut up.
Sparkles (throwing whatever-it-is to Ralphie): I’m not mad.
Ralphie (returning it): I know.
Sparkles (now to Leo): I don’t need to be treated like – don’t handle me. I’m not radioactive. You two –
Leo: We know. (beat) So what’s your favorite time in the day?
Ralphie: I don’t have one.
Leo: Okay. I was asking her, but okay.
Sparkles (to Ralphie): I like when the street lights turn on. And the sky’s still blue above them.
Ralphie: That’s not a time.
Leo: Sure it is.
Sparkles (to Ralphie): The time changes a little every day of the year.

Ralphie and Sparkles stare into one another with growing intensity. They look more and more like they’re about to fight or fuck or overthrow the government.

Leo: … Alrighty…
Ralphie (breaking out of it): Yes? I mean, what?
Leo: Yeah, so not that I’m not confident the two of you won’t make out in front of me but I’ve gotta go – ya know, I’m – what’s the word?
Ralphie: Busy?
Leo: Lonely.
Ralphie: I should have known that was a set up.
Sparkles: I love you Leo.
Ralphie: Ditto.
Sparkles: Ralphie!
Ralphie: He knows.
Leo: I know.
Sparkles: You’re both oblivious.
Ralphie & Leo: We know.

Leo exits.

They distance themselves from each other.

Pause.

Ralphie: I got a joke.

Pause. (No response.)

You wana hear a joke?
Sparkles: Is it dirty?
Ralphie: Of course.
Sparkles: Alright then.
Ralphie: It’s just I think it was really unfair about how I got sacked from my last job. I’ve heard some places try to have rules about sex between employees, but this boss fired me for having sex with the customers!
I’ll never work for a veterinarian again.
Sparkles (dead pan): That’s so weird! My brother got sacked for sex on the job too.
He worked at a morgue.

Pause.

Ralphie: I’ve got a friend—
Sparkles: The nursery right?
Ralphie: … Kindergaten.
Sparkles: Well.
Ralphie: Yeah. Okay, I’m done.

Pause.

They draw close to each other again and begin to kiss and pet very uneasily.

Sparkles: Do you want to have sex?
Ralphie: Hu?
Sparkles: Here.
Ralphie: What?
Sparkles: I’m asking.
Ralphie: What? Sparkles, no. We aren’t the kind of people who have sex in the Park.
Sparkles: Okay. Fine. (beat) Except for the time we did. So technically we are the kind of people who have sex in a park, but fine.
Ralphie: What the hell are you talking about? We’ve never had sex in Central Park.
Sparkles: No, we were off where you’d been fishing and—
Ralphie: That wasn’t a park, that was… that was the woods.
Sparkles (clenched): Oh. Gee. I’m sorry, I guess I couldn’t see it through th—
Ralphie: Alright it doesn’t matter!

Pause.

Sparkles (finally just asking): Is Leo in love with you yet?
Ralphie: He will be.
Sparkles: He had better bec—
Ralphie: Don’t. Please. He will. I promise.
Sparkles: And he’ll agree?
Ralphie: He will. I promise.
Sparkles: I want what’s coming to me Ralphie. I deserve it.
Ralphie: I know. Me too.

Pause.

Sparkles (scared): It’s still getting bigger.
Ralphie: … the hole.
Sparkles: … Yes! God what else…

Pause.

Feel through it.
Ralphie: I don’t want to.
Sparkles: I need you to.
Ralphie: It hurts!
Sparkles (bringing herself right next to him): Well man up!

Ralphie nervously reaches under Sparkle’s shirt and presses his hand through the hole where her stomach should be onto the fabric of the back of her shirt. He winces and groans. Then calms. Then retracts his hand.

Sparkles (stepping away): It’s not just what’s ours. Without it this will consume me.
Ralphie: I understand, I—
Sparkles: Or I guess really it will do the opposite of that. What’s the opposite of consume? It will do that to me.
Ralphie: It will kill you!
Sparkles: Well, yeah, more importantly.
Ralphie: Don’t worry. It’s only a matter of time.
Sparkles: What isn’t?
Ralphie: It will be done. (beat) Soon...
Sparkles: You're doing it again.
Ralphie: There has to be something else we can do! There must be— we’re just not thinking—
Sparkles: No. No, no, no, no no no no no no.
Ralphie: You don’t know. Not a single thing.
Sparkles: What have we not tried?
Ralphie: Tried? We haven’t TRIED anything.
Sparkles: Everything we considered as be—
Ralphie: We’ve always been doing this. It’s been just this since go.
Sparkles: It isn’t my fault.
Ralphie: I’m not blaming you.
Sparkles: Yes you are.
Ralphie: I—
Sparkles: You are!
Ralphie: Fine! Yes. It’s your fault! As much as mine! It’s my fault!! It’s ours. So yes you. And me. Ours.

Sparkles retrieves a scetchbook and pen and starts scratching in it intently.

Pause.

Ralphie: What is it?
Sparkles: I’m making a flag.
Ralphie: A flag?
Sparkles: My own flag. (beat) I’ve been having a really hard time with the design so far.
Ralphie: … For what?
Sparkles: The flag.
Ralphie: No, I knew what you meant. I meant what is the flag for?
Sparkles: I’m going to reclaim what’s been taken from me.

Pause.

Ralphie: How... postcolonial of you.
Sparkles: Kiss my ass. (beat) Listen it's going to end with you of it's going to end with this. And honestly I'm not sure which I'd prefer at this point.

Pause.

Ralphie: Oh come on. You're telling ell me you’re actually considering... You're talking about impaling yourself on the flagstaff of the self-made flag of your personal sovereignty?
Sparkles: Very good. Yes. That is exactly how I plan to die. If I don’t fill back. (beat) Frankly with the choices of martyrdom or disintegration I don’t find it all that hard a decision.
Ralphie: Wait, how you plan to die? If you aren’t filled back would that even hurt?

Pause.

Sparkles starts to leave.

Ralphie: Stop! Where are you going?! Wait! Don't!

Ralphie chases after her and catches her. He holds her in kind of forced hug from behind. She struggles for a moment. He loosens so that he is no longer touching her at all, his arms simply circle her body like those of a ballerina turning. Sparkles turns to face him within this circle. They rest there. Then, trembling, Ralphie lowers his arms.

Sparkles: It hurts me too. When something passes through. Me too.
Ralphie (inconsolable): I’m sorry Sparks. I'm sorry. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening to me.
Sparkles (consoling): Me too. Me too…

Pause.

Ralphie (swallowing fear): I think I’ve got an idea for your flag.

Scene 3: A dimly lit space.

Leo enters and becomes – imperceptibly slowly – more and more visibly pregnant as he speaks.

Saint Augustine said our bodies are shaped to bear children, and our lives are a working out of the processes of creation. He said all our ambitions and intelligence are beside this great elemental point.
Yes... of course.
It’s hard to explain what being muted feels like. Hard to talk about it. Heh.
Don’t think of the hurried, hissing quality of library whispering – in here sounds are hushed in a distant, drifting manner. More rounded and billowy in pronunciation and perhaps even slightly augmented. Steps are light, requests and questions are coddled and ensconced like glassware or ornaments about to be shipped – the morning air their protective felt, newspaper, or bubble wrap. The air mounting as it’s tossed aside. Wrapping paper on Christmas morning to be gathered and disposed of as the sun climbs toward noon. That daily silent zenith. There's a prayer for every time of day: Buy now.

Suddenly speechless where one would have been expected. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the surroundings or own character. Gasps during firework show.
What was your first word?

There is never be a need for shushing. And no dust. Or crying.

We can see you.
And your careless love. Careless! Careless! Carelessssss
sssssssssssssssssssssssssss!

Ehem.

Floors made of? Leave the cumulus where it belongs. Overhead. The scuff marks are quite.
(Pist: ...It smells like Youth and happiness...
Play-Doh!
Play-Doh!
Play-Doh!)

Wind outside more leaning on that blowing against. Why skyscrapers sway. Ever so slightly.
Be not afraid.
Shhh. You'll wake the baby. All are in its wake.
Newborns soft, unfinished skulls make me very nervous.
Rams too. How do they ever settle anything?
Settle down.
Settle.

You are not alone, For now: use me. I'm useful.
Who ever does know what evening may bring.
No, please, help yourself. Say no more.

Muted

Our bodies are shaped to bear children, and our lives are a working out of the processes of creation. All our ambitions and intelligence are beside that great elemental point.
- St. Augustine

"Yes...

Of course."

Don’t think of the hurried, hissing quality of library whispering – in here sounds are hushed in a distant, drifting manner. More rounded and billowy in pronunciation and perhaps even slightly augmented. Steps are light, requests and questions are coddled and ensconced like glassware or ornaments about to be shipped – the morning air their protective felt, newspaper, or bubble wrap. The air mounting as it’s tossed aside. Wrapping paper on Christmas morning to be gathered and disposed of as the sun climbs toward noon. That daily silent zenith. There's a prayer for every time of day: Buy now.

Suddenly speechless where one would have been expected. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the surroundings (or own character). Gasps during fireworkshow. What was your first word?

There would never be a need for shushing.
And no dust.
Or crying.

We can see you.
And your careless love. Careless! Careless! Carelessssss
sssssssssssssssssssssssssss!

Ehem.

Floors made of? Leave the cumulus where it belongs. Overhead. The scuff marks are quite.
(Pist: ...It smells like Youth and happiness...
Play-Doh!
Play-Doh!
Play-Doh!)

Wind outside more leaning on that blowing against. Why skyscrapers sway. Ever so slightly.

Be not afraid.

Shhh. You'll wake the baby. (All are in its wake)
Newborns soft, unfinished skulls make me very nervous.
Rams too.
How do they ever settle anything?
Settle down.
Settle.

You are not alone, For now: use me. I'm useful.

Who ever does know what evening may bring.

No, please, help yourself. Say no more.

AIDS WALK 09

Wana help out but can't walk yoself? Great! We need you. Here's all you gotta do:

1) You go here (just cut & paste): http://aidswalknewyork2009.kintera.org/faf/home/default.asp?ievent=295208&lis=1&kntae295208=2B4722D93359492A9884FFAFD5A40686&login=o

2) Click "Sponsor Participant."

3) Enter my name. (Len Shaffer)

4) Support the cause with whatever $ (or €) you can. 5 bucks is a lot!

Peace, Love and Social Betterment!!

I Don't Like Mondays

(Eyes closed tight at first, hiding something behind back, slowly opening)
ONE… TWO… THREE… Four… Five… Six… Seven… (counting continues beneath for the remainder:)

I need this. I need this, today. Today, I need you. It’s your turn. Not like that. I need you here. Where I can’t see you, but you’re there. Like this. Isn’t it strange how this will feel the same for you even after I die? Or. Don'tchu think? Until you find out of course. Then it will mean a great deal less. But we’ll miss it. Like yesterday. Or some day last week.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…

If bodies hit the ground in a forest and there’s no one there to hear them – why scream? The Sun is shinning this AM. That song by The Boomtown Rats. You heard about the true story? Kids. She shot them in the schoolyard.

You’re it.

Chase me.

(a secret) I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t. We don’t need a reason.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

There always is one. Sometimes they are even simpler than it seems they should be. Just hits you. Maybe better that way: I don’t like Mondays. I don’t like Mondays.

Ready or not,
here I come.

Open So

There were thick venetian blinds
Open so
Streams of night could enter
Inside the bright room
I looked to see lines of dark and bright cast on the floor.
It mustn’t have been the right angel.
Those bright and risen.
We changed positions.
“Explain the similarity you’re drawing between the oceans and space.”
“Space as in outer space. Not like (wafts hand about) space space.”
“Yes, outer. Even though -”
“Nevermind that. The vastness. I’m talking about the vastness.”
“As in the traversing of?”
“Not everything’s an expedition. Just I mean how both are kind of incomprehensible. In terms of size, incomprehensible.”
“Well one is literally incomprehensible in size. And the size of the other is well - finite.”
“But it’s changing. With the warming.”
“That something changes doesn’t make it any less finite.”
“Oh yeah, right because still has a beginning and an end.”
I don’t remember falling asleep that night.
In the morning the blinds were pulled up and the sun was dull.
You were putting clothes on.
I let them back down.
You left anyway and I went back to bed in the dark.
When I moved out I tore those blinds down even though they came with the place.
I threw them out the window and let them land on the street with a dissatisfying crash.
No one was hurt.
It seemed such a small space without them.
I should have filled it with something.
Or I should have watched the blinds fall.
I lived on the tenth floor.
I should have yelled, “Look out bellow.”

PEACOCK KILLER

My dog caught a peacock one night and ate it. The next day when I found it I kicked the shit out of him. I broke three of his ribs and cried. Then I found out how dumb peacocks are even though everyone thinks they're beautiful. Shitting of your roof and screaming when they fuck. So I bought a twenty-two and started killing every peacock I could lay my hands on. Me and my dog at night we'd go hunting. I had to use short bullets with a mushroom head so they wouldn't make too much nose. Just like the sound of a small car backfire. Just one shot apiece and if that didn't kill 'em I'd let my dog finish them off. We'd come home bloody and laughing with murder every night. In the morning the rich neighbors would wake up and find the corpses chewed and blasted up against the white picket fences. They hired a private detective to investigate the deaths. Soon it hit the local papers: MAD PEACOCK KILLER ON THE LOOSE. So I changed my tactics. I switched to bow and arrow. I marked each arrow with a special notch and attached a note which read: REVENGE FOR BROKEN RIBS.

- Sam Shepard

Snap, Crackle, Pop: Onomatopoeias United

I’d Like to Die In Some Horrible Yet Naggingly Hilarious Way. Something Involving a Toothpick or Helium.

Life
Work
Love
Hope
Hell
Time
Dead
Fear
Next:
There were several four-letter words at play.
Weddings. What can ya do? But there were these girls throwing flower petals. And I recognized one. I'd dreamt her many times. I’d been dreaming of this little brat - this vicious girl, she's round and impossible is what she is. With beady, intent eyes and she'd go on and on about what was holding us together. Like there was some kind of putty involved. She thought everyone could be divided into parts. Segmented like some, some, like autism. Or puzzles. There was a lot of puzzling. She puzzled over where she was. Or more, where we could be, or are. She was all over the place. Said, “And if you couldn’t you would. But you can so you won’t."
Then I was talking to my boyfriend. I told him, “I was thinking about buying you flowers, how would you feel about that?"
He answered in a freakishly high voice, “What kind of flowers?”
“So you’re open to flowers generally.”
“Well –"
“It won’t be roses. Of any color. Nothing with really direct symbolism.”
“Ex–"
“Yeah besides the flowers themselves.”
“Okay then.”
“Really?”
“I’m curious what flowers you’ll get.”
“You’ll get.”
“I’ll get.”
“You’ll get it?”
“Before you.”
Then I was warm and felt sick to my stomach.
Then there was wailing and gnashing of teeth.
We got away in a hot air balloon. And then we could have landed anywhere.
But didn't.

Dead Cow

Lights down.
Previews.
------------- on
-------- and on
---- you get it.

Scene 1.

VOICE OVER: (in black)
We’re romantic like characters in a 'festival comedy'
characters lackadaisically self-conscious of a rye aftertaste lining the edges of
the well-framed clips we’ll splice together later into our linear lives, The prior circumstances that supply urgency to the needs being played out have such airtight clarity that our carrying out of our telling activities to fulfill our actions in order to meet our needs is sporadically paused to give way to moments of appreciation for the occurrence itself, For what it is. another scene.
the sequence currently unimportant, the objectives set, dialogue rolling
And this not out of complexity, but firm, directoral simplicity: the setting is grounded, actors have clearly made insightful text-based, but instinctual choices, designers have had long discussions with carefully worded disputes. In our home nothing is superfluous in a way I thought only possible in sets.
Yes,

there was a dead cow in the front yard
enveloping, comforting in its undeniability.

We both understood this immediately. Even a glance to confirm my partner’s recognition seemed crude, I didn’t want to overplay the humor. I didn’t want to demystify this. We were both feeling something, following our bodies reactions to something in a way we would not force logic on yet. Sexual or violent urges are similar in how corporeal they are. Paternal even, maybe.

(We are “acting” well:
He gazes out the bow window
I cross to stand beside him, looking out
He turns his head to look at me but I continue to look forward
He turns his head back
Pause
I turn my heard to see his distant profile
I turn my head back)

CUT TO: Shot trough the bow window of the two of us looking out which pulls back through the lawn to reveal the body of the cow.
CUT TO: A slab of meat a chef's hand is spicing on a small pan before he throws it into a large oven with magician level dexterity. Camera follows two stake dishs off the line, through an almost empty restaurant, to a table by the window where the waiter serves it to - who else? - us.

And we're back. This is the tight, informative, over-the-table scene that sets up the whole rest of the script to fall like dominos. We’re nervous.

There is a deep, industrial humming coming from the other side of the wall. The type of sound where after a while you think, “Is that just in my head?” The music is soft and innocuous enough to fold easily into the general murmur.
Once, a delivery truck pulled up out front, stopped, then pulled away. The sounds were a concert of horn and percussion. I felt like singing.

There would be no baby.
(it begins to rain)
(pours)
(flood)

CUT TO: Underwater.
The whole city. Underwater.
Centuries pass like the wobbling of a coin on a countertop before it lies flat.

VOICE OVER:
And this is what the world looks like for a long time. Things went predictably. Generally, more developed animals died off sooner while there were enormous booms in the numbers of single-celled organisms and photosynthesizers. Floods wiped out whole species as more ocean and plant matter caused others to thrive. The cockroaches didn’t last as long as was expected. Krill did well and thus the population of wales skyrocketed so that the night above the swelling ocean was never without song.

One night, I howled at the moon.
She seemed offended. So I never tried that again.

Eras passed - epochs. Whale populations grew so fast their carcasses began to litter the ocean’s floor. This contributed to other elements already changing the ocean water’s chemistry and caused countless changes and countless more after that and so on. Earth was a tough old girl. She held strong through more than I have time to tell. Until the day the Sun exploded.
And that day,
then,

I thought of the cow.

“Whenever you get a chance!” he called with his hand in the air. Meals half eaten. Dinner was over.

Scene 2.

One Foot In Front Of

It's sweltering. Burta paces slowly while Lora sits on the stoop fanning herself with the news.

Lora: Everybody's got a number, an exact n’ set number a steps they’ll take 'fore they die.
Beat
Don’t pace. (Burta stops and sits) Or jog. Ever.
Beat
Burta: Fanning yourself don't make you cooler.
Lora: Darlin’, I can feel it. (fans Burta) You feel?
Burta: Yes, but the action, the fanning is making your body hotter.
Lora: What's this bout my hot body? A breeze always cools.
Burta: Fanning yourself aint a breeze.
Lora: Hush girl.
Burta: Hm.
Beat
Lora: Must yu fight everything? Always got to be traipsin’ somewhere for somethin’.
Burta: That’s not true.
Lora: Hm.
Beat
Burta stands.
Where yu goin’ now?
Burta: (walking) To my death for sure.
Lora: Aint you makin’ dinner tonight?
Burta: (almost off) Not if I don’t go to market now.
Lora: Oh. Well then step to it! (to herself) Lord knows we ain't got all day.