Skirting the issue final | june 26, 2014

Skirting the Issue

The scene is a table and two chairs. On the table are two place settings each with identical meals.

Our protagonists, good friends in graduate school, are both readying to eat a buritto. They both have the same beer.

Allison: A witty, sharp, twenty-something who is cutting with her pointed critiques. She is skeptical of readily-held assertions and is unrelenting in her determination.

Oliver: Also in his twenties, he can be overly prosaic at times, wanting to find some inherent truth to the world around him. His observations are studied, but he is wont to make quick judgments.

Bar Studio

in association with

officeMEH

presents

Skirting the Issue

featuring:

Timothy Bevins & as

Oliver

Emily Kutil as

Allison

Both Allison and Oliver have begun their meals.

Allison begins first with the burrito. She studies its form, and then takes her first bite. She quickly grabs the salt shaker and sprinkles some salt over the entirety of the plate.

Oliver: (skeptically) Why are you doing that?

Allison: Doing what?

Oliver: Adding salt to your whole meal. You’ve only taken one bite and yet you’re already thinking it best to just salt whole damn thing.

Allison: (caught off-guard) I just thought it could use some extra flavor‌

Oliver: (Looking on) But the burrito has its own flavor‌

Allison: Yes, it tastes like a burrito. What else would it taste like? Fish?

Oliver: No shit. Of course a burrito tastes like a burrito and not like a fish. Look, the point is why aren’t you giving it a chance? It has its own qualities.

Allison: Yes, but why can’t I enjoy it in the way that I want to?

Oliver: Look. I’m not saying that you’re not entitled to your own views.

Allison: Your words are going that way‌

Oliver: What I’m trying to get at is why you need to change that burrito. That burrito is, on its own, a unique thing.

Allison: What the fuck are you trying to get at?

Oliver: (He points his fork and knife at the burrito, attempting to draw Allison’s attention to the evidence at hand) What makes a burrito taste like a burrito?

Allison: Are you trying to get at something rhetorically?

Oliver: No… (He says with trepidation realizing that Allison is right in calling him out on making a rhetorical argument) I’m asking you what makes a burrito taste like a burrito. It’s a simple question.

Allison: Well, for starters it comes from a cow‌

Oliver: And‌

Allison: The poor bastard, after being slaughtered and hanged ‘til every drop of blood has left its veins, is then sent off to market, thrown onto a grill, and then used as a vehicle for interrogation, rather than something to be enjoyed.

Oliver: You don’t have to be so direct with your response… (with an aside) or bitchy…

Allison: A burrito is a burrito is a burrito. It is what it is.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Oliver: Yes, that’s true…

Allison: You’re always after these truths, Oliver. What are you trying to get at here? Why do you find it objectionable for me to salt my meal after only one bite? Hmmm?

Oliver: (Pause and deliberation on his part as he mulls over his dining partner’s pointed question) What I am trying to get at is that you are not letting each element have a chance to speak for itself and tell you its story. Let it develop as a character.

Allison: Oliver, they’re fucking ingredients, not some characters in a some mid-century novel who are trying to discover what it is that makes them human and complex.

Oliver: Let me rephrase my argument.

Allison: Argument? You think your position is an argument? You’re talking about ingredients as if they are the real Californian Raisins and they’re going to start some song and dance routine.

Oliver: The what? And why do you always have to be so quick with the hate?

Allison: The singing and dancing raisins… Never mind… I only mean my mockery in good faith… This side of me only comes out of me when I’m around you. But go on. I want to hear about your theory regarding the “character development of food.”

Oliver: (With nervous laugh) I guess I’m flattered I bring this side of you out… Ummmm… Yeah… Okay, think about it…

Allison (Toying with Oliver in agreement) Ummmhmmmm

Oliver: This burrito has some guacamole‌

Allison: Yeah, because you were too cheap to buy more guac...

Oliver: Seriously?

Allison: You make it easy‌ Go on. I’ll try to keep the commentary to a minimum.

Oliver: That would be a great challenge for you. But let us consider the burrito. It is a cornucuopia of tastes.

Oliver: Okay. Take another bite and tell me what you taste.

Allison: (Allison takes a bite of her burrito, pausing to analyze it – extenuating her movements as a mixture of appeasing and mocking her friend) It tastes like a burrito.

Oliver: Sure, but do you taste anything else? Do you taste the various vegetables? Do you taste the guacimole?

Allison: Yeah, I taste the guacimole only because you talked for a solid two minutes about it as soon as I walked in the door.

Oliver: But you taste it?

Allison: Yes. But only because I was told of its “presence.” (Allison throws both of her hands into the air, using them to make air quotations as she says “presence”) What I can taste is the burrito. I have to take it for it is: a fucking burrito, Oliver.

Oliver: (In a state of shock at Allison’s blunt response) But do you like it?

Allison: I like it a lot. I like it because I know you prepared it for us and I’m enjoying spending this time with you. But if you’re going to turn this into one of your erudite investigations of essential truths, this burrito might as well taste like shit.

Oliver: So what you’re saying is that the burrito cannot stand alone and that it is impacted by all that is around it, and that it is defined by its own context, and‌

Allison: Somebody just read the Derrida reading for this week’s class‌

Oliver: (Defensively) Alright, you got me there.

Allison: But yes, things beside this burrito affect what this burrito is and tastes like. Everything from the guacamole to this beer, all the way to this room and beyond, has some sort of impact on the burrito.

Oliver: Sure, but can’t we dissect what it is that constitutes the taste of the burrito?

Allison: Please, I love to hear what your specific thoughts are on this burrito.

Oliver: It’s savory.

Allison: Yes‌

Oliver: And from its savory qualities, I can pick up hints of pepper‌

Allison: Did you pepper the burrito at all?

Oliver: No‌

Allison: Then where the hell are you getting these “peppery� notes from?

Oliver: I don’t know. They’re there! And the texture of the charred meat from the grill has a distinct taste of…

Allison: Are you tasting what you are tasting, or are seeing what you are tasting?

Oliver: What do you mean, “seeing what I am tasting”?

Allison: I mean, do you actually taste what is there? Are your taste buds telling you that it is “charred,” or are your eyes telling you that you should be looking for something that tastes “charred”? You see, taste can’t stand on its own…

Oliver: No, I sincerely believe that I am tasting the charred qualities. If you blindfolded me, I bet you a drink that I can taste the charred bits without ever seeing them.

Allison: Really? A drink?

Oliver: Yes.

Allison: (She removes her scarf from around her neck and goes behind Oliver. She folds the fabric into a long band and then ties it around Oliver’s head so as to cover his eyes) Now try.

Oliver: Well, now I can’t see where I’m placing my knife and fork.

Allison: (She picks up Oliver’s silverware and cuts a couple of pieces of burrito for Oliver to eat, and promptly and loudly places the knife back on the plate so that Oliver knows when she is done cutting and hands him a fork with a small piece of the burrito on it) Here.

Oliver: (He moves his fork with the piece of meat on its prongs close to his face, using his other hand to guide it to his mouth, and slowly begins to chew, studying as best he can the food he has just consumed) Allison: And?

Oliver: Well…

To Be Continued…

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