PlayGround June Anne Baker Prize 20th Anniversary Anthology

THE BANDERSNATCH

By Kristina Goodnight

69

THE BANDERSNATCH

By Kristina Goodnight THE BANDERSNATCH was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) in San Francisco for the PlayLab staged reading series on November 19th, 2001. It was directed by Jim Kleinmann. The cast was as follows: Clara.............................................................. Gwen Loeb Bob.............................................................. Jason Frazier Sandy........................................................... Carolyn Doyle THE BANDERSNATCH was premiered by PlayGround at the 6th annual Emerging Playwrights Festival on June 15, 2002. It was directed by Jesus Reyes. The cast was as follows: Clara........................................................... Jessa Berkner Bob......................................................... Richard Gallagher Sandy........................................................... Carla Pantoja Kristina Goodnight wrote her first play when she was eight years old, and since that time, she received her Bachelor of Arts in Dramatic Art and English from the University of California, Davis, and her Master of Fine Arts in Playwriting from Saint Mary’s College of California, where she studied with Bay Area playwrights Cherrie Moraga, Brighde Mullins, and Octavio Solis. Her work has been produced in several venues, including Frontage Road at Nickel Ante Productions in Sacramento, Gold and Green at Acme Theatre Company in Davis, and her co-authored piece Shakespeare in Hell at Aldephi University in New York. Staged readings of Goodnight’s work have appeared at the Dean Lesher Center for the Performing Arts, University of California Intercampus Arts Festival, Theatre Zoe, and most recently at Playground’s Monday Night PlayLab. Her play A Perfect Human Being will premiere in October 2002 at Theatre Rhinoceros Studio Theatre as the inaugural production for Guilty Theatre, a company she is co-founding with three other women playwrights from Saint Mary’s College.

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THE BANDERSNATCH

By Kristina Goodnight A flat in London.

At rise, a large basket sits center stage in front of two chairs. After a moment, CLARA enters from up left, hurried, wearing a coat, with a bag over her shoulder, jingling keys. As she passes the basket, she looks inside and jumps, screams, drops her keys. For a beat, her gaze remains fixed on the basket, horrified.

CLARA:

(Shouting offstage.) Bob! (Beat.) BOHHHHHHHB! BOB rushes onstage from left, wearing a hat and coat.

BOB:

What is it?!

CLARA:

Get rid of it!

BOB:

What? Get rid of what?

CLARA points at the basket, not looking.

CLARA:

That… thing.

Beat.

BOB:

That’s our son.

She looks at him.

CLARA:

How dare you.

BOB:

Clara

CLARA:

Get rid of it now!

BOB:

Um. Clara, I can’t very well just toss our son out with the melon skins and snotty tissues.

CLARA:

If you hold any value in this marriage

BOB:

But… that’s our Willie.

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THE BANDERSNATCH CLARA:

Oh, is that what you’re calling it now?

BOB:

He’s not an it, he’s

CLARA:

You’re disgusting!

BOB:

Alright. William. Sandy will be here any minute to pick him up.

CLARA:

When I turn around, I expect it to be gone.

BOB looks at the basket, worried, then back at CLARA. He tiptoes over to it, surreptitiously slides it behind a chair.

BOB:

Alright, dearest. All gone.

CLARA turns around. She sniffs suspiciously.

CLARA:

I can still smell it. (BOB sniffs, confused.) The unmistakably hideous stench of a bandersnatch.

BOB:

A what?

CLARA:

Oh, don’t play Mr. Innocent with me.

She sniffs her way behind the chair, discovering the basket.

BOB:

That’s our son, dearest! You… you remember his birth, don’t you?

Beat. She stares at him, incredulous.

You screamed yourself hoarse.

CLARA:

I never scream!

BOB:

Well, maybe you didn’t scream… moaned, rather.

CLARA:

Moaned? Whatever do you mean by moaned?

BOB:

Um. You know. Sort of an… ohhhhhhhh…

CLARA:

Then say what you mean, for god’s sake!

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THE BANDERSNATCH BOB:

Alright, never mind the birth. He’s our son now.

Our son!

CLARA:

Don’t be stupid. I know perfectly well the thing in that basket is not the sun.

BOB:

No, no. Not the sun. Our son. The light of our lives.

CLARA:

Well if that hideous object is the light of our lives then we have quite a dark tunnel of years ahead of us. Besides, I know what you mean by “son.”

(She uses the “in quotes” gesture to accent her words.) Just because you were a linguistics major at university, don’t think you can fool me. I know what a son is. A creature with external genitalia.

A y chromosome. A seed spiller. A prick.

BOB:

Yes, I think you’ve got it about right. All except the part about the pri

CLARA:

Oh my god, I think I’m going to vomit!

She lurches forward, aiming for the basket.

BOB:

No, no, not on the baby! Um. Here.

He takes of his hat, thrusts it into her hands. She vomits into it. He watches her.

BOB:

Oh dear, you’re not pregnant again are you?

CLARA:

(Confused.) Pregnant?

BOB:

Oh, dear god. Um. (Gesturing a distended stomach.) Pregnant. Expectant. Full of the future. Resplendent with life.

CLARA:

No, I know what pregnant means. Resembling an iceberg. Legs like beanstalks.

BOB:

(Looking at his watch.) Really we must be getting off 73

THE BANDERSNATCH CLARA:

For god’s sake, I’m not in the mood right now!

BOB:

To work, dear. My boss is going to be very upset if I’m late again.

CLARA:

Oh your “boss” and your “job.” Don’t try to be cryptic with me. You’re always doing this. Just like when you “go” to the “store” to buy “milk” and “eggs” and “fabric softener.” As if I don’t know what you’re really trying to say!

BOB:

Dearest, I’m really not a complex man. All I want is to earn a living and spend my evenings with you and Willie and to stock the kitchen on occasion with a few essential items.

CLARA:

Well, all I want, other than to keep bandersnatches out of my living room, obviously, is to clad myself in sparkles of enterprise and join a star player on a favored planet, drinking the proverbial gravy, as it were, before the limbs of the flesh explode.

Beat.

BOB:

Come again, dear?

CLARA:

Do you want me to spell it out for you?

BOB:

Why don’t you just go on to work, and I’ll wait for Sandy. I know you usually have meetings on Tuesday morning.

CLARA:

(Suddenly joyous.) It is Tuesday, isn’t it? The dustman should be here any moment! I’ll just go get a black bag and we’ll be rid of this whole mess!

She runs off left. BOB is frantic, looking for a place to hide the basket.

BOB:

(Calling offstage.) We can’t just throw Willie away!

74

THE BANDERSNATCH CLARA re-enters with a garbage bag. BOB tries to hold her back.

BOB:

(Pleading.) At least let’s leave him out with the recycling so he can be put to good use!

CLARA:

Well if you’re not going to take care of this fiasco, I’ll just have to do it myself.

BOB:

I’ve got an idea! Let’s pretend this is our baby.

Let’s pretend we call him Willie. Let’s pretend he’s not a bander… smitch. Say, “Hi Willie!”

Hello, winkie willie, our silly nilly little frilly billy!

CLARA stares at him.

CLARA:

Really, someone is going to cart you off to that state-run building up on the hill one of these days.

SANDY enters from right.

SANDY:

Morning.

BOB:

(Effusively.) Hello, Sandy! So nice to see you! See look, Clara, Sandy’s come to take our little Willie for the day! Haven’t you, Sandy?!

SANDY:

(Staring at BOB.) Of course. Have you gone mad?

BOB and CLARA watch SANDY expectantly. She walks past the basket without noticing it and exits up left. Beat. BOB looks at CLARA, confused. SANDY re-enters, pushing a stroller. She stops at the basket, looks inside.

SANDY:

(Nonchalantly.)

Interesting.

Hmm…

a

bandersnatch.

BOB and CLARA stare at her.

Okay, see you at five. Say bye-bye, Willie! Say bye-bye!

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THE BANDERSNATCH SANDY exits right with the stroller. CLARA picks up her coat and bag.

CLARA:

Alright, then, off to work.

CLARA hands BOB the garbage bag, exits right. BOB is left staring into the basket.

Lights fade.

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COLD CALLS

By Martha Soukup

5

COLD CALLS

By Martha Soukup COLD CALLS was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) in San Francisco for the PlayLab staged reading series on January 20, 2003. It was directed by Jenny Lord. The cast was as follows: Caller......................................................... C. Kelly Wright Audience Member........................................... Jeffrey Draper House Manager...........................................Charles Blackburn COLD CALLS was premiered by PlayGround at the 7th Annual Best of Playground (2003) festival on June 14, 2003. It was directed by Danny Scheie. The cast was as follows: Caller............................................................ Julia Mueller Audience Member...................................... Ian Scott McGregor House Manager................................................ Danielle Thys Martha Soukup won the Nebula Award for short fiction for her short story “A Defense of the Social Contracts,” which is collected, along with other Nebula-, Hugo-, and World Fantasy Award-finalist fiction, in her book, The Arbitrary Placement of Walls (DreamHaven Press). She has lived in San Francisco for more than a dozen years, but while she was still in Chicago, she wrote and performed for the science fiction and fantasy comedy sketch troupe, Moebius Theatre, in Chicago; and she is a long-ago graduate of the Players Workshop of the Second City improvisation course. She was awarded PlayGround’s 2003 June Anne Baker Prize and has been commissioned to write her first full-length play.

6

COLD CALLS

By Martha Soukup A boiler-room cold-call center. The CALLERfor whom we'll use female pronouns here, but, as with later parts in the script, may be a woman or a man, pronouns to be changed accordinglysits at a simple desk with a fairly complicated phone. There’s a monitor and a keyboard to one side of the desk, a coffee cup, newspaper, some other office clutter. She’s wearing a telephone headset.

Possibly, bright and tedious office music is playing.

CALLER hits a button and there is the sound of rapid computer phone dialing, eleven digits. A pause, and she speaks into the headset.

CALLER:

Good evening, is this (checking the monitor) Andrea Metheny? Yes, Ms. Matheny, I’m calling about your dog. Your dog. Mr. Scribbles, a sevenyear-old cocker mix with arthritis in the left rear ankle joint?No, Ms. Matheny, I’m not with the vet’s office. Ms. Matheny, I’m calling to tell you toquickly nowcheck your back yard. Your back yard, Ms. Matheny. Mr. Scribbles will have just about loosened the third picket from the end in your back fence and in (checks monitor) 45 seconds will be making his way toward the freeway. No, Ms. Matheny, I'm not “kidding.” You have twenty seconds before he breaks free.You do that. I’ll hold.

A pause. CALLER picks up a copy of the New York Times from the desk and idly, rapidly fills in the crossword, in ink. Peppy boring music plays.

Yes, Ms. Matheny, I’m here. You shouldIt’s all right, Ms. MathenyMs. Matheny, take a breathThe picket will be easy to replace, any home-improvement storeNo, I’m not in the neighborhood, Ms. Matheny. Ms. MathenyYes, you’re welcome.Yes, ma’am, I did mention an arthritic joint. You’ve probably noticed Mr.

7

COLD CALLS Scribbles limping in the morning after colder nights.Your vet can advise you on that. Have a good evening.

CALLER disconnects the call, turns to the monitor and keyboard, and, while typing, in a matter-of-course tone: Call completed.

CALLER hits the dial button. The sound of rapid dialing.

Another pause and another check of the monitor.

Good evening, is this Mr. Arnold Wiseman? Mr. Wiseman, it’s not indigestion. Call 9-1-1 now.No, sir, immediately when I hang up.I’m hanging up so you can call now.

CALLER disconnects the call.

Call completed.

CALLER starts another call: dialing sound, etc.

Yes, is this Rudy Petroff? Good evening. 29 Down is “calyx.” C-A-L-Y-X. The outer envelope of a flower.It doesn’t matter how I knew, Mr. Petroff. Have a good evening.

CALLER disconnects and looks at her copy of the Times.

Huh! CALLER fills in, presumably, 29 Down. Puts the paper down, types on the keyboard: Call completed.

Gets up, stretches, and draws a cup of coffee from a machine in the corner. Drinks and checks her watch. Goes unhurriedly back to her station, takes another sip, and places another call.

Yes, may I speak to Mr. Joshua Leeds? (Pause.)

Mr. Leeds, I’m calling about your blue 2002 8

COLD CALLS Mercury Sable, currently parked on the street in front of your condominium?No, Mr. Leeds, this is not a sales call. Sir, your car is beingYes, Mr. Leeds, I can put you on our No Call list, but I don’t think youMr. Leeds, you may be interested to know CALLER reacts to being hung up on, with a mild quirk of the lips; hits a button to disconnect from her end. A pause, then: that your car is, as we speak, being driven away by a fourteen-year-old joyrider on a dare.

Types on the keyboard.

Okay, No Call listJoshua Leeds, Mountain View, California. There you go.

Another call.

Good evening, is this Mrs. Sally Rodriguez?Good evening, Mrs. Rodriguez. If you take the next BART train into the city, which departs in thirteen minutes, you’ll find Susan outside the Carl’s Jr. at Civic Center. She’s ready to come home if you don’t ask any questions right away. No, Mrs. Rodriguez, I’m not a friend of Susan’s. You should bring a coat for her, it’ll be raining by the time you get there. She doesn’t have one.Mrs. Rodriguez, there really isn’t time for questions if you’re going to make the train.

(Talking over an interruption.)Good evening, Mrs. Rodriguez. (Typing.) Call completed.

Another sip of coffee, and CALLER hits the dial button again. Sound of rapid dialing. A cell phone starts ringing in the front of the audience, where AN AUDIENCE MEMBER is sitting. The AUDIENCE MEMBER starts visibly, takes out his cell phone, looking guilty, and is about to turn it offwhen he sees the CALLER looking at him.

9

COLD CALLS AUDIENCE MEMBER:

(Mumbling.) No, no way.

The phone keeps ringing. The CALLER waits. The AUDIENCE MEMBER turns to the person in the seat next to him.

I mean(Smiles awkwardly.) Nah, that’d be crazy.

Phone keeps ringing, CALLER keeps waiting, AUDIENCE MEMBER holds the phone out like it was a dead fish, not quite prepared to answer it or turn it off.

HOUSE MANAGER bustles in.

HOUSE MANAGER: AUDIENCE MEMBER: HM:

(Stage whisper, to AUDIENCE MEMBER.) Sir! Sir, phone off during the performance!

(Smiling, embarrassed.) Right, I know! It’s just that shemaybe(Trails off: this is ridiculous.)

(Still a stage whisper, but chillier.) Sir. (Holds out hand for the phone.)

AUDIENCE MEMBER:

Um

The phone stops ringing. The HM keeps his or her hand out.

The AUDIENCE MEMBER flinches from HM's stare, but pulls the phone back and, holding it high so he or she can see, makes a show of turning it off.

HM:

Well. All right.

At the same time the CALLER is hitting a button to disconnect an unanswered call. The HM gives the AUDIENCE MEMBER a very stern look, then exits.

CALLER is having another swig of coffee. AUDIENCE MEMBER gives a little, nervous wave, trying and failing to establish eye contact.

10

COLD CALLS CALLER:

(Typing.) No answer.

AUDIENCE MEMBER lowers his arm in the useless manner of someone trying to pretend no one saw him waving in the first place, looks around, and hunches back into his seat to watch the play. CALLER places another call.

AUDIENCE MEMBER looks at his phone, which doesn't ring.

CALLER:

Yes, is this Vivian Park? Good evening, Ms. Park.

He’s at her place now. Yes, that her. I would say you have about 35 minutes to catch them in flagrante.Have a good evening, Ms. Park.

(Typing.) Call completed.

CALLER stops typing, pauses, and looks directly at AUDIENCE MEMBER. He automatically looks behind him, but CALLER does indeed appear to be looking right at him.

Still looking, CALLER presses the dial button. Sound of automatic dialing. AUDIENCE MEMBER’s phone starts to ring. He sits, frozen.

The HM enters rapidly and makes a beeline for AUDIENCE MEMBER. He sits fixed in the gazes of HM and CALLER, the ringing phone in his partly outstretched hand.

HM:

(In a stage whisper of command.) Sir, I’ll have that phone now.

AUDIENCE MEMBER: HM:

(Caught between embarrassment and panic.)

But!

Sir.

There is a brief tussle for the phone. HM grabs it, AUDIENCE MEMBER tries to wrest it back. He has it for just a second and hits the answer button, but HM grabs it back decisively as: CALLER:

Good evening, Morgan Hinkle?

11

COLD CALLS AUDIENCE MEMBER: CALLER: AUDIENCE MEMBER:

(He doesn’t have the phone, but the CALLER has just said his name.) Yes? Yes? (Into phone, ignoring AUDIENCE MEMBER.) Mr. Hinkle, are you there? Mr. Hinkle?

I’m here! I(to HM) I need my phone!

HM finds the off switch on the phone, turns it off and pockets it.

III think it’san emergency HM:

Sir! If you don’t settle down this instant, I’ll remove you from the theater as well as this phone!

AUDIENCE MEMBER:

HM:

But! (He looks at the CALLER.) Okay, okay, okayI’m sorry, I thought I’d turned it off, I’m sorry.

I shouldn’t let you stay as it is. This is not the way to support the arts. Sir.

AUDIENCE MEMBER:

Sorry.

HM:

(Very cold.) Final warning.

HM exits with the cell phone. CALLER is hitting the disconnect button on her phone.

CALLER:

(Typing.) No answer.

AUDIENCE MEMBER looks to where the HM exited the theater, then back at the CALLER. AUDIENCE MEMBER:

No! Wait! I’m here!

12

COLD CALLS CALLER:

(Hits the dial button; the sound of automatic dialing.) Good evening, is this Carolyn

AUDIENCE MEMBER jumps from his seat and on to the stage, where he lunges to hit the hang-up on CALLER’s phone.

AUDIENCE MEMBER:

Look! I’m here! Morgan Hinkle! She wouldn’t let me answer, but I’m right here!

CALLER removes his hand from the telephone and something on the keyboard.

AUDIENCE MEMBER:

types

What is it? Is my house on fire? Has my dad? Oh god. Am I about to have a stroke? Earthquake?

Bankruptcy? What is it?

AUDIENCE MEMBER grabs CALLER by the shoulders; CALLER shrugs him off.

Let me see! What is it?

AUDIENCE MEMBER tries to turn the monitor around toward him to read what’s displayed. CALLER puts a hand on it; AUDIENCE MEMBER wrenches harder and the monitor jerks through his hands and falls noisily off the desk.

HM returns at that moment with one or two largish men who grab AUDIENCE MEMBER’s arms without preamble.

Wait! No, you can’t take me away, I have to find out They talk over each other.

HM: AUDIENCE MEMBER:

Sir, the police have been called and are on their way.

But I have to read what’s on thegod, it broke, didn’t it. (To CALLER.) Tell me what the call was!

13

COLD CALLS HM:

I don’t know what your problem is but you can tell them all about it at the police station.

AUDIENCE MEMBER:

Is it my wife? Is it brain cancer? TELL ME! Tell me what it is! You have to tell me!

The largish men finish dragging AUDIENCE MEMBER out of the theater.

HM:

(To audience.) I’m sorry. Thanks for your patience. Enjoy the rest of the show.

HM exits the theater. A pause. The CALLER stands, walks around the desk and picks up the monitor, placing it back on the desk and plugging it back in if necessary. Tries its power switch; shakes her head in acknowledgment that it won’t turn on again.

CALLER:

It’s a shame when people don’t answer the phone.

She drains her coffee cup, tidies a couple of things on the desk, picks up the Times, and exits.

A pause. The CALLER’s phone starts to ring. It rings, and rings, and rings, and rings, and keeps ringing as: Lights slowly fade.

14

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD

By Maria Rokas

77

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD

By Maria Rokas THE WAIT OF THE WORLD was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on February 17, 2004. It was directed by Lee Sankowich. The cast was as follows: Wife............................................................ Julia Brothers Husband...................................................... Aldo Billingslea THE WAIT OF THE WORLD was premiered by PlayGround at the 8th Annual Best of Playground (2004) festival on June 12, 2004. It was directed by Barbara Oliver. The cast was as follows: Wife.............................................................. Julia McNeal Husband.................................................. Mark Rafael Truitt Maria Rokas has a BA in film from San Francisco State University.

Her one act play Lunchroom Alchemy was produced and published as part of Three Wise Monkeys’ 2004 Bay One Acts. Her ten minute plays have been produced as part of the Actors Theatre of Santa Cruz’s 2004 Eight Tens @ Eight, Actors Theatre of Santa Rosa’s 2004 Quickies and produced and published as part of PlayGround’s 2003 and 2004 Best of PlayGround festival. She is the recipient of PlayGround’s 2004 June Anne Baker Prize.

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THE WAIT OF THE WORLD

By Maria Rokas Characters: WIFE - woman early/mid 40s (old enough to have a teenage daughter) HUSBAND - man (same) Time: Now Place: Living room Note: There is a reference to Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher that can be changed to reflect the hot Hollywood couple of the moment.

An eerie tune is heard in the dark. Lights up on living room. WIFE sits reading a large tabloid style newspaper which covers her face. The paper should be whatever local paper is known for running politically charged stories more commercial papers won’t run. There is a big blanket bunched up in her lap and her legs are up. HUSBAND is sitting watching television, remote in hand. The eerie music crescendos and as it does the HUSBAND’s eyes widen with alarm.

HUSBAND:

JESUS. Would you look at that?

WIFE:

What?

HUSBAND:

(Muting the TV.) Haven’t you been watching this?

WIFE:

No. I’m reading.

HUSBAND:

How can you read when

WIFE:

What?

HUSBAND:

The earth’s magnetic field is weakening, has weakened by ten percent.

WIFE:

And?

79

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD HUSBAND:

Its collapse would precipitate the flipping of the planet’s poles. North would become South.

South, North.

WIFE:

And?

HUSBAND:

And WHAT?

WIFE:

(Lowering the paper.) What’s the ETA?

HUSBAND:

A couple hundred years or so.

WIFE:

(Raising the paper.) And there you go.

HUSBAND:

But!

WIFE:

(Lowering the paper.) But what?

HUSBAND:

What if there’s some sort of anomaly Professor VonGeek at the University of Know It Alls can’t predict? What if something comes into play that puts us on the fast track for the big flip? What if it’s not hundreds of years but ten? Huh? What then?

WIFE:

You tell me.

Pause.

HUSBAND:

I don’t know… They haven’t gotten to that part yet.

WIFE:

(Raising the paper.) Keep me posted.

He unmutes the television and the eerie music swells just as she drops the paper, staring out in disbelief.

WIFE:

MY GOD.

HUSBAND:

(Muting the television.) What?

WIFE:

I’m reading about that Avian flu. In Thailand.

Eight people have died. So they killed nine million. Chickens. Buried them alive.

80

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD HUSBAND:

Good riddance.

WIFE:

How can you be so cavalier about that little nugget of information?

HUSBAND:

It’s chickens. We’ll order beef.

WIFE:

Mad cow.

HUSBAND:

Fish.

WIFE:

Mercury poisoning. (Indicating the paper.) It’s all here.

HUSBAND:

Yes. But look at what you’re reading.

WIFE:

What’s wrong with what I’m reading?

HUSBAND:

Show me your hands.

She holds out the palms of her hands which are black with ink.

Papers of note do not fold in half, and the ink does not transfer to one’s fingers.

WIFE:

When did you become so pithy?

HUSBAND:

Notice… You’re reading something a notch above the National Enquirer, while I… am watching PBS.

WIFE:

On your way to ESPN, you accidentally bumped into a show that looked and sounded like an episode of the X Files.

HUSBAND:

That’s not true. I’ll have you know, I am addicted to documentaries

WIFE:

On crop circles or… poltergeists. I wanted you to watch the one on Elizabeth Cady Stanton and the history of the suffrage movement with me last week. You wouldn’t do it.

HUSBAND:

Not without a six pack and some ether, no.

81

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD She raises the paper. He raises the remote as she lets out a gasp of pain.

What? Are you OK? WIFE:

It’s nothing… It’s got a thing for sticking its foot in my spleen while playing basketball with my liver. (Getting up, the blanket dropping. She’s very pregnant.) I’m fine.

HUSBAND:

Don’t call the baby “it.” Sounds like you’ve got an alien inside you or something.

WIFE:

We simply do not know what the sex is. Until then, it is an it.

HUSBAND:

I wanted to know.

WIFE:

Well you don’t get a say in the matter.

HUSBAND:

Well I should. It’s half my responsibility.

WIFE:

In theory.

HUSBAND:

It is!

WIFE:

Strap a couple bowling balls around your waist for nine months and we’ll talk.

HUSBAND:

I do my fair share.

WIFE:

How do you figure?

HUSBAND:

I’m the one who’s going to keep working.

WIFE:

Oh I see. After the baby is born, you’re going into the salt mines and I’m on vacation? Two o’clock feedings, poopy diapers, cracked nipples and hemorrhoidsthat’s a walk in the park?

HUSBAND:

You know what I mean.

82

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD WIFE:

I don’t want to talk about this. (Grabbing the remote and turning the sound on.) Watch your little show.

She hands him the remote.

HUSBAND:

(Staring at the television, nervous. The eerie music swells. He mutes.) What if it doesn’t end well?

WIFE:

You just said it doesn’t.

HUSBAND:

No. We’re at the mid show cliffhanger. They’ve just told us the worst that can happen. Now they owe us friendly educational television viewers the salve for our wounds in the form of the “It’ll all be OK” denouement… There’s hope.

Pause.

WIFE:

There’s no hope.

HUSBAND:

WHAT?

WIFE:

I don’t know where that came from… Yes, yes I do.

They just buried nine million chickensALIVE. Like some sort of seed in a Stephen King novel. What do you think we’ll reap from that harvest, huh? There’s no hope.

HUSBAND:

(He gets up and puts his arms around her, rubbing her belly lovingly.) Children are hope.

WIFE:

(Twisting herself free.) Don’t give me that.

There are six billion people on this dirt clod.

(Rubbing her belly.) And counting. We’ve got fifty years fresh drinking water leftmax. That doesn’t exactly make me feel like I’m about to drop a big Hallmark card on the world.

HUSBAND:

Fine. No hope, but (under his breath) plenty of hormones for all.

WIFE:

I heard that. And it’s not the hormones.

83

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD HUSBAND:

The doctor said it’s the hormones.

WIFE:

A doctor told my mother she had indigestion and sent her home with antacidsFOR STOMACH CANCER.

HUSBAND:

(Turning away from her.) Not the same thing.

And people make mistakes.

WIFE:

(Picking up the paper and throwing it at his back as:) Yes, but how many mistakes do we get to make before somebody stands up and says, “ENOUGH. Somebody please start paying attention!”

The paper has scattered all over the floor and he bends down to reassemble it as: (Pause.) I feel like we’re all in the back seat of some big car, some gargantuan fossil fuel sucking Buick, becoming one with those decadent fourfoot deep seats. Just cruising down the interstate of life without a care in the world… But you know what I just noticed? NOBODY’S DRIVING! Shhhlisten.

HUSBAND:

I don’t hear anything.

WIFE:

Exactly! It’s too quiet. It’s like everyone is waiting for someone else to do something. Why aren’t there nonstop protests in the streets?

Where IS everybody? Probably relegated to a Free Speech Zone in Siberia. Move dissident voices away from the television cameras and newspaper reporters and put them where it really countson an ice floe preaching their case to an Eskimo named Yupik!

HUSBAND:

(Looking at his watch.) I get it… it’s the witching hour.

WIFE:

What’s that supposed to mean?

84

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD HUSBAND:

I didn’t want to say anything, what with the hormones, but every night for the past month or so, right around this time, you go a little crazy.

You blow off a little steam. And then you go to bed. It will pass.

WIFE:

Every night.

HUSBAND:

Every night.

WIFE:

Do you know who I am?!

HUSBAND:

You’re Marilyn Han

WIFE:

Not my name. Who I AM?

HUSBAND:

Of course I do. You’re a woman who goes a little crazy around this time every night.

WIFE:

I am a woman who at nine o’clock every night sits down with my paper and does a little reading.

And every time I do, I see something else that scares the living daylights out of me. And it’s not something that’s several hundred years away. It’s something in the right now. And it all makes me wonder, with heart racingwhat are we doing?

What are we going to do? Thatthat show, is just a big diversion. Don’t look here, look up there!

With all that’s going on, going wrongthis is what you’re waiting for? Some cataclysmic, beyond our control, end to it all? That’s where we’re going to put the responsibility? (Rubbing her belly.) My God, what were we thinking? I mean we have one already and that didn’t turn out so well. You know sometimes I think we did this because on some level we know we failed the first time.

HUSBAND:

Zoe is a wonderful daughter.

WIFE:

She has no soul.

HUSBAND:

(Trying to make a joke and failing.) What do you mean? Like she can’t dance?

85

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD WIFE:

I look into her face and it’s just empty. Void of anything deeper than the inch thick layer of cosmetics and hair products. She told me her greatest desire… was to marry Ashton Kutcher.

To steal him from Demi. That’s it. That’s her big thing. Aside from trying to work more mirror time into her schedule. And then she gives me that look. The one that says I’m the fool for not getting it.

HUSBAND:

She’s a teenager.

WIFE:

She’s an idiot. When I was a teenager I told my mother my greatest desire was to sign up for the foreign exchange program and travel to third world countries so I could better understand the peoples of the world. I worked two after school jobs, was in the model UN, senior class president.

The only reason I didn’t make valedictorian was because my grades slipped when I got monoand not the fun way either. And all of it was so I could have a chance at a better future, one where I could offer my children the opportunities I didn’t have. And what did I get? A little girl who has a thrombo when she doesn’t make the cheerleading squad or her jeans make her ass look fat. This is our hope? If she’s what we’re all waiting on, we’d be better off having our poles flipped.

She gets down on her knees, the pain is getting worse.

HUSBAND:

Are you sure you’re OK?

WIFE:

Of course I’m not OK. I’m having another one.

What have we done?! What if it’s another Brittney Spears dancing - reality TV watching cell phone soldered to her head - TWIT?

HUSBAND:

It could be a boy.

WIFE:

Who’ll play video games that simulate mass murder, build an arsenal in the basement, then go off to college to major in upside down 86

THE WAIT OF THE WORLD margaritas and bong hits. Then he’ll find Jesus, run for president of the United States, and WIN! HUSBAND:

(Out of answers.) You had a choice.

Pause.

WIFE:

Did I? I forget sometimes. You spend so many years steeping in the expectations of others you forget… you have a choice.

HUSBAND:

Sweetheart. Sit down. Take a load off. It’ll pass.

WIFE:

It’s just so heavy.

HUSBAND:

I know. I mean. I can imagine. Sort of. OK I have no idea. But later, I promise, I’ll smash my thumb with a hammer while chewing on aluminum foil and think of you.

She laughs, looks confused and tired.

WIFE:

What was I saying?

HUSBAND:

I don’t remember. (Leading her back to her seat and tucking her in.) Here, watch this with me.

It’s almost over.

He unmutes the television. The music has changed to something perky.

WIFE:

Over? I want things to be over.

HUSBAND:

Soon. (Sitting down.) Real soon.

The music swells. Blackout.

87

OBIT

By Geetha Reddy

43

OBIT

By Geetha Reddy OBIT was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on October 18, 2004. It was directed by James A. Kleinmann. The cast was as follows: Liz.................................................................. Gwen Loeb Henry............................................................... Ron Evans Stage Manager................................................. Natasha Noel OBIT was premiered by PlayGround at the 9th Annual Best of Playground (2005) festival on May 12, 2005. It was directed by John McCluggage. The cast was as follows: Liz.................................................................. Gwen Loeb Henry.......................................................... Will Marchetti Stage Manager................................................ Christen Karle Geetha Reddy is a two-time recipient of PlayGround’s Emerging Playwright Award. Her play Honey, I’m Home was featured in the The Best of PlayGround Festival 2004 and showcased that same year at the inaugural San Francisco Theater Festival. Her work will be performed in “Three Plays about Your Mother” during the 2005 San Francisco Fringe Festival. She is a member of the writer’s group Rumpus, and the 2005 winner of PlayGround’s June Anne Baker Prize. When not writing she spends her time raising two sons, and working as a technology consultant from her home in Burlingame.

44

OBIT

By Geetha Reddy Characters LIZ - 40s formidable HENRY- 70s frail STAGE MANAGER - in black wearing a headset HENRY sits facing the audience slack jawed and unfocused.

LIZ sits at a table making copious notes on a pad of paper.

The STAGE MANAGER at the side of the stage—just in view.

LIZ:

Are you listening?

Beat. The STAGE MANAGER tenses and mouths the word "Go".

HENRY:

(Weakly.) Fire. Fire.

LIZ:

What is it? Are you getting too hot over there?

HENRY:

(Looking at the audience.) Fire?

LIZ:

(Marches over to him and looks around.) Dad, there’s no fire. You’re okay.

HENRY:

Fire. That’s what you say in a crowded theater…

LIZ:

Dad, you have to make the effort. Fire is what you are NOT supposed to YELL in a crowded theater. And you are not in a theater you are at home. Okay? Okay. Stop, Look, and Listen.

Remember? Make the effort. (She returns to her pad.) Are you listening?

HENRY:

(To the audience.) I am not in a theater?

HENRY starts wandering toward the edge of the stagelooking out at the audience.

LIZ:

Good. Okay, let me read you this part: (Reading from her notes.) Uh… “Dr. Phillips a leading surgeon and beloved teacher passed away”… Wait I already read you that.

45

OBIT The STAGE MANAGER scampers to HENRY and physically repositions him so he faces LIZ. The STAGE MANAGER returns to his starting position.

LIZ:

Here’s the new section. “After graduating Annapolis Dr. Philips entered the medical corp and later served as a flight surgeon aboard the USS Anderson. Named the Executive Director of the Naval Medical clinic in—”

HENRY:

Liz, I’m not comfortable with this. Can we stop this? I-I don’t like it.

LIZ:

Well, I don’t like it either. I think we will both feel better if we can just get this out of the way… Later, well, it might be too late. Also, I really think it will be good for your memory to try to be a part of this. Okay? Okay. Did I read you this part? “An accomplished public speaker,” blah blah blah—here: “toured the country speaking on behalf of the rights of aging veterans?”

HENRY:

(More to the audience.) I don’t like it. I never liked performing for an audience.

LIZ:

What?

HENRY:

I don’t like being in front of all these people.

What could they want? I get scared. All the faces.

Stop… Stop…

HENRY walks to a darkened area of the stage. The STAGE MANAGER whispers into his mike. Lights follow HENRY as he tries to escape. The STAGE MANAGER points and snaps as if cueing the lights.

LIZ:

Dad. The more you use your mind the slower your memory loss. You have to make the effort.

HENRY:

I never spoke in public. Faces… Fires…

LIZ:

I’m not talking about that. (She continues writing.)

46

OBIT HENRY:

(To the audience.) What do you want? Why are you all looking at me? Stop! Stop looking at me!

What do you want? I have nothing to say.

STAGE MANAGER:

(At her breaking point.) Act!

HENRY:

I can’t act. Liz… Liz! I can’t act.

LIZ:

Don’t worry about a thing Dad. I am taking care of it all.

SM:

You memorized this. You say: “Here’s what happens, Here is how it—

HENRY:

I can’t remember anything. Can’t you see that?

Can’t you see anything… Stop looking at me!

LIZ:

Dad. Calm down. You are home. Look. Home. The fireplace. The couch. The TV. You’re home.

HENRY:

(He starts to fidget.) What about the audience?

LIZ:

There is no audience. Use your orientation strategies: Stop. Look. Listen. You have to be more active about it. It will slow the memory loss. I promise. I know about these things. You’re home. (Pause.) Um. Dad? Do you need to use the restroom?

HENRY:

(Making a fist.) Don’t talk to me like that! This is a god-awful ordeal! I’m still your father! Bossy—

LIZ:

Okay! Don’t get upset. Just listen. Are you listening? (He waves her off with a grunt.) Well, I’ll keep working on it. You relax for a second.

HENRY:

(To the STAGE MANAGER.) She was a bossy little girl too. I’ll say that: she was bossy as hell. You better believe it.

SM:

Don’t worry. It’s not that hard to believe.

47

OBIT HENRY:

(Smiles and relaxes a little.) Right. Right. So, here’s what happens. Here’s how it happened.

She was born and she was a girl and, uh… I suppose if you had asked me then I would have said being a military man myself that I wanted a son. Male progeny. But she was girl. And that was fine. Girls. (Losing focus.) What was I saying?

(Directly to the STAGE MANAGER.) What was I saying?

SM:

You were saying she’s a girl.

HENRY:

Right a girl!

LIZ:

What did you say?

HENRY:

You’re a girl.

LIZ:

A woman.

HENRY:

Would you please stop correcting me! I really don’t like how you are behaving, young lady. (LIZ returns to her writing.) Uh. So. Here’s what happens. Here’s how it happens. Her mother was French and so of course it was the two of them.

Talking to each other in French and singing La Marseillaise every time I was watching baseball.

Always putting the nail polish on… I wanted to have a boy but then her Mom… I— I— (To Liz.) Why don’t you write something in there about your mother? What about her? You not going to include her?

LIZ:

No. Of course. What should I say? I don’t really remember her too well.

HENRY:

Ha. So Miss-Know-it-all doesn’t remember something? Always harassing me about my memory Miss-smarty-pants.

LIZ:

Be nice, Dad. I’m just trying to help. Come on.

HENRY:

Well, I remember.

48

OBIT LIZ:

Great. Good. Use those neural connections!

That’s good. See? You are making the effort.

She returns to her writing as he speaks. Half listening.

HENRY:

Here’s how it happens. Claudette dies. It’s a terrible thing losing your wife. Better to die first I think… (He loses his train of thought.) Why are you all looking at me?

SM:

Your wife died, and then…

HENRY:

And then. And then. Right, here is how it happens, I’m left with a six year old girl living on a military base. So I instituted new rules. We wake up at 0530 and go for a run.

SM:

(Waving the script.) No that’s not what it says.

HENRY:

She was eight?

SM:

Yes, she was eight.

HENRY:

She was eight, but she still couldn’t keep up with me. I was me and… She was so little. Oh my god, she was so little!

SM:

But you stopped at the Diner. Didn’t you?

HENRY:

That’s right. I stopped at the House of Pancakes.

I stopped and waited and we had breakfast and walked home. That wasn’t so bad. Right Lizzie?

LIZ:

Hmm? You’re rambling.

HENRY:

Our morning calisthenics?

LIZ:

Freezing. Listen to this: (Reading from her notepad.)

Uh… here.

“Pioneered new laparoscopic techniques including sigmoid resection…” Ugh. That sounds incredibly dull…

(Scribbles.)

49

OBIT HENRY:

Why would I do something like that? She was so little… And I would just take off down the street not even waiting for her. Why would I do that?

What kind of man would… (Pause.) Who are you people?

SM:

It was okay. She was okay, because then you found out—

HENRY:

But then I found out later— That’s right! Then I found out that she would ride her bike to the Shell Station and then run the last two blocks to the diner. She was okay. She was always okay.

What a kid, huh?

SM:

What a kid!

HENRY:

Okay. Here’s what happens. Here’s how it happened. I thought she should go to Community College. Stay close by. But she applied to the Naval Academy without telling me. She was in the very first class of women. Isn’t that right honey?

LIZ:

(Reading.) “Graduated in 1980 with honors from the Naval Academy…”

HENRY:

I didn’t think she should do that. But she was so bull headed. I thought I was in charge. She was so sweet. Look at her sweet face. Look at my sweet girl. I thought she would get eaten alive in the Navy.

LIZ:

“Entered the medical corp”… Oh here is the good part, I spiced it up. Are you listening? Dad. Stop.

Look. Listen. “Served as a general surgeon during the first gulf war where she pioneered techniques in exploratory laparoscopic surgery. Ironically, Dr. Phillips benefited from her own research in the discovery and diagnosis of her—” (Delighted.)

Isn’t that good? That’s better right? Are you with me?

HENRY:

Do we have to do this?

50

OBIT LIZ & SM:

(Together.) Yes.

LIZ:

I’ll feel better if I get it all down on paper now. I want this to be right. You can understand that— can’t you? I don’t want all these things to be just… forgotten.

HENRY:

That’s right. I won’t know. Won’t have to act.

Won’t have to remember… Who will remember?

(To the STAGE MANAGER.) Who will remember?

(The STAGE MANAGER directs him to the audience. HENRY starts pleading to individuals in the audience.) Will you remember? You’ll remember won’t you? Remember that she was a firecracker. That she was an angel. That she sang with her mother. Oh and remember that on Easter she would wear that blue dress with gym shorts underneath. And then she would only eat one piece of candy a day. That—That she had to suffer terrible things… She was smart and beautiful and generous. (To the STAGE MANAGER.) She was! Remember that she gave her mother the great gift. The greatest gift of all gifts: outliving your parents. (He looks at LIZ.) But I won’t know it’s happening. I won’t make the effort. (HENRY glazes over. There is a long pause as he forgets.) What was I saying?

SM:

That your daughter is dying.

HENRY:

No she isn’t—I’m dying. I’m losing my memory.

It’s being extinguished. The fire—it’s dying out…

(Agitated.) She’s dying? I—I have something to say… Here’s what happened. Here’s how it happened…

SM:

It’s okay. We’re through.

HENRY:

I need you to…

SM:

They will remember. We will remember.

LIZ:

So and then the last part goes: “Dr. Elizabeth Anne Phillips died on—”and the press office will 51

OBIT fill in the date—“From complications related to…” Blah. Blah. Blah. Okay? I am going to write it up and leave it in an envelope. Dad stop look and listen!

HENRY:

And I can forget. Forget all of this?

SM:

You can.

LIZ:

Dad! Listen. I’m leaving it in an envelope. Right here. Okay?

HENRY:

(Bowing slightly.) Thank you. Thank you. Okay…

LIZ:

So what do you think? It’s pretty good, huh?

HENRY:

You forgot something. One last thing…

LIZ:

I did? What?

HENRY:

I can’t. I don’t remember.

LIZ:

Dad, make the effort. I forgot something? What—

HENRY:

She is survived by her father.

LIZ:

Oh, of course.

She picks up her pen and adds the note to her pad. HENRY, exhausted, falls into a stupor. The STAGE MANAGER motions. The lights fade.

52

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES

By Brady Lea

43

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES

By Brady Lea SEWERMONSTER DIARIES was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on November 21, 2005. It was directed by William O. Selig. The cast was as follows: “Sue”............................................................... Stacy Ross Lieutenant Peter Harris..................................... Gabriel Marin Sylvia Johnson................................................ Cat Thompson Doug Johnson.................................................. Liam Vincent SEWERMONSTER DIARIES was premiered by PlayGround at the 10th Annual Best of Playground (2006) festival on May 11, 2006. It was directed by William O. Selig. The cast was as follows: “Sue”............................................................Danielle Thys Lieutenant Peter Harris...............................Eric Fraisher Hayes Sylvia Johnson................................................ Cat Thompson Doug Johnson................................................ Douglas Giorgis Brady Lea is a playwright, performer and theatre arts educator.

She is a three-time Emerging Playwrights Award winner (Remember Paris, 2002; Mushroom Boy, 2005) and the recipient of the 2006 June Anne Baker Prize. She is a graduate of Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College and a co-founder of the vaudeville trio The Kloons. Brady has taught physical theatre, improvisation, circus skills and clowning, and currently teaches improvisation in San Francisco. She lives in Bernal Heights with her husband David Gallagher.

44

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES

By Brady Lea The Cast: “SUE” - female. A sewermonster LIEUTENANT PETER HARRIS - male, 30s or 40s SYLVIA JOHNSON - a woman, 35-50 DOUG JOHNSON - Sylvia’s husband. 35-50 The Scene: The stage is fairly blank. There should be an area where “SUE”, a scaly, lizardlike, shapeshifting beast who appears as a woman in simple non-glamorous attire, sits, writing in her diary, another area that indicates the Johnsons’ bathroom, and their shower in particular, and room left open to play out other scenes. SYLVIA, an overly well-groomed woman, is in the shower.

SYLVIA:

(Calling out.) Honey? Honey, could you grab me a towel? They’re in the dryer.

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, This evening I crept up the drainpipe of Sylvia Johnson’s shower, and as she rinsed off her rosemary tea tree shower gel, I extended one claw up into her shower and skewered her big toe.

SYLVIA reacts as if her foot has been attacked.

SYLVIA:

Aiiiieeeieieieiieieieieieieeeeeeeeee.

“SUE”:

The amount of blood was impressive.

SYLVIA:

HONEY! Help! Oh my god, I’m bleeding. Help!

Help!

“SUE”:

And she reacted just how I expected.

DOUG JOHNSON, a country-clubbish marketing-exec type, rushes to his wife with a towel.

DOUG:

Sweetheart, what is it… Oh my god!

“SUE”:

I know I swore I’d stay away from my old block, but I couldn’t help myself. I found myself 45

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES obsessing about how she’d always put a traffic cone in the parking space in front of her house, because her gold Expedition didn’t fit through their garage door.

DOUG wraps SYLVIA in a towel and ushers her away, sobbing.

SYLVIA:

(As she exits.) Why me? Why, Doug, why?

“SUE” starts a new entry.

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, This morning I hit the girls’ locker room at Washington High. Freshman gym class had just ended and I went down the row of showers and just poked a pinky claw up through the drains, one at a time.

From offstage we hear three sequential girly screams.

“SUE”:

I barely drew any blood but the screaming was satisfying.

LIEUTENANT PETER HARRIS, hunky in a borderline-annoying way, enters, and writes in his police log.

LT. HARRIS:

Police Log: November third. Two “sewermonster” incidents in the last three days. The Examiner is running items daily, and hounding me and my squad for action. And quotes. Feel it would be a real boost to my squad if we could just nail him … IT… this week. I’m confident I’m getting close.

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, UGH! They called me “him” again. So annoying. And I had to find this out after a perfectly pleasant morning of popping off people’s toenails with my one pointiest claw while they showered. I saw half of today’s paper wedged through the sewer grate on Third and Market, and I just had to look, didn’t I? This makes me want to… I don’t know what. I’ll think of something.

SYLVIA screams bloodcurdlingly.

46

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES SYLVIA:

Doug!! Doug, help!!

DOUG:

Not again!

LT. HARRIS:

Police Log: November Seventh. A nightmare week. Not only am I being hounded by the press… well, the Examiner… I’m fielding calls daily from victims.

SYLVIA enters and speaks on the phone.

SYLVIA:

… and another thing, Lieutenant Harris, I am not satisfied with the level of community policing.

And, clearly I am being targeted by this beast. He attacks me repeatedly, and your department…

LT. HARRIS:

Mrs. Johnson, believe me, we’re doing everything we can…

SYLVIA:

Clearly that’s not enough.

LT. HARRIS:

I’ve got all my officers pulling double overtime here, I understand your fears, but…

SYLVIA:

Oh, you understand, do you? Do you realize what this is doing to me?

LT. HARRIS:

Of course, Mrs. Johnson, it’s terrible, and there have been plenty others, but…

SYLVIA:

My book club refuses to meet at my house! I am becoming a social pariah!

LT. HARRIS:

Like I said, we’ve got a lot of leads… we’re really close…

Their phone conversation fades as “SUE” continues her diary.

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, I’m feeling a little blue. Like, what’s the point. For example, last night I’m wandering around the sewers when I smell a little dishwater, so I follow that scent up the pipes until I get to the drain of the kitchen sink. I reach 47

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES up and barely puncture the very tip of this guy’s index finger. Just enough so he’d think maybe he grabbed a shard of broken glass. And I just felt, I don’t know. Empty? I’ve already hit everybody in HR at my old company, and I scared the crap out of that nasty kid on my old block. The one who threw a beer bottle at my front window when I suggested that instead of honking for a half hour to get his girlfriend’s attention, he ring the damn doorbell. And I’ve been checking the papers whenever I can pull a piece of one down here and I haven’t seen anything about myself for weeks.

What’s going on?

LT. HARRIS:

Police Log: December Fifteenth. Three weeks since I enacted Operation Maximum Sewermonster Destruction, and not a single reported attack since. You’ve got to hand it to yourself, Peter Harris, you’ve really done it this time.

DOUG JOHNSON storms in to LT. HARRIS with a newspaper.

DOUG:

Lieutenant!

LT. HARRIS:

I’m sorry, do you have an appointment…?

DOUG:

I’m agog. I’m aghast. Lieutenant, I am appalled.

(He shoves the newspaper in LT. HARRIS’s face.)

This is you on the front page, isn’t it? Accepting honors from the mayor for eradicating the “Sewermonster Situation.”

LT. HARRIS:

Why yes! Thank yo…

For an instant, LT. HARRIS prepares to sign an autograph.

DOUG:

I am not congratulating you, Lieutenant. Look at this.

DOUG rips off his shoe and sock and waves his foot at LT. HARRIS.

LT. HARRIS:

(Starting to call outside his “office” for help.)

Could I get an officer in here…

48

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES DOUG:

This morning, Lieutenant. This happened today!

And I’m not the only one… My wife… I’m sure you know my wife…

LT. HARRIS:

(Quietly realizing) Oh… yes… I think I do.

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, Finally! A little satisfaction and joy returns to my life. That idiot police Lieutenant’s overly square-jawed mug was on the front of the paper boasting about how he Made The City Safe for bathers, dishwashers and “other users of the sewage system.” And when I had to choose toenails to pop off, I couldn’t help but head back to my good old neighbors’ house. And as I waited around for their evening bath, I remembered the night I saw every single person on our block but me sitting on folding chairs in Doug and Sylvia’s garage. Back when I lived… you know… up there.

I poked my head in and said, “Hi.” SYLVIA speaks for herself in the Diary entry, and “SUE” responds directly to her.

SYLVIA:

Oh, excuse us… we’re starting a neighborhood watch group and the meeting is scheduled to start now. If you need to talk to us, maybe you can leave a note in our mailbox?

“SUE”:

Oh… I’d be happy to stay for the meeting…

SYLVIA:

Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. It’s a neighborhood watch meeting for homeowners. It’s not for renters.

“SUE” continues her diary entry.

“SUE”:

The way she said the word renters. Like I was vermin. Huh. (She pauses.) Vermin. Ha. That’s kind of funny now, I guess.

LT. HARRIS:

Police Log: December 20th. Humiliation for my squad. Immediately after receiving a commendation from the mayor, the attacks started again.

Well, I’m not so sure it’s actually a “Sewer49

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES monster”, or the sewermonster. Maybe just large rodents? Or, maybe… a copycat crime? And now I’ve got this watchdog group, SMVA— the SewerMonster Victims Association, breathing down my throat constantly.

SYLVIA and DOUG address imaginary passers-by on a street corner, or perhaps, the audience.

DOUG:

Hi… Doug Johnson, SewerMonster Victims Association… please take a look at our literature.

SYLVIA:

Yes, right, we’re raising funds.

DOUG:

We’ve got a hundred and fifty thousand in city funds pledged…

SYLVIA:

But we need your support.

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, Goddamn Johnsons.

DOUG:

With your help, we can stop him.

SYLVIA:

Please… won’t you just help me reclaim my life?

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since I’ve been down here full time. I mean, yeah, the last month or so has dragged a bit but I remember that first night like it was yesterday.

I came home exhausted after a dinner with my friend Susan and her New! Boyfriend! It was hard to take how chipper she was, and maybe that last martini wasn’t the greatest idea. And this guy called her “my sweetie” all night long. To the valet parker guy, “Can you get My Sweetie’s car?” and the coat check guy, “My Sweetie has a red wool cape.” And on and on. It could have been sweet, but… it just felt creepy. Anyway, I got home, and reached for my toothbrush, and grabbed a razor that was sticking out of the same cup in my bathroom. A razor. Shit. My ex’s, and he hadn’t lived with me for a year. Okay, I could have been a little better about cleaning things out when he left. As I watched the blood drip 50

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES into my nice white bathroom sink… okay, who am I kidding? As I watched the blood drip into my toothpaste-encrusted grimy bathroom sink, I thought: What if I just followed? All of me. One drop at a time.

And you know? I really like it here. I don’t think I’ll ever live up there again.

SYLVIA and DOUG conduct a meeting.

DOUG:

Thank you all so much for coming.

SYLVIA:

And thank you for your generous contributions.

DOUG:

I’ve been able to take a leave of absence from my job to run the SMVA full time.

SYLVIA:

So thank you all so much for making sure Doug keeps his six-figure salary!

DOUG:

The police department in this city has let us down.

SYLVIA:

That’s right. And we need accountability.

LT. HARRIS:

Police Log: February Second. Goddamn Johnsons.

This darn victim’s group is killing my squad.

They’ve got a newspaper column giving bi-weekly reports. They’ve got a letter-writing campaign— we get at least a hundred irate emails a day. I’m starting to think this… thing… whatever it is… it’s not after the Johnsons, and it’s not after the HR department at Patterson Richards. It’s after me.

(He’s defeated, but finds new resolve.) But you know what? I am personally going to Take! Him! Down! And you can quote me on that. And to celebrate the start of our new mission, I’m taking the entire squad out to Smitty’s as soon as our shift is over.

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, Oh, what a fool I was last night. I spent the day yesterday under the men’s room down at the police station, and— decided I could 51

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES take a few hours vacation from the sewers. I wanted to see if I went back out there if I’d look like my old self. I did, turns out. I checked myself out in a store window after I slunk up through a sewer grate. And you know, I wasn’t half the wreck I remembered. Anyway… I just wanted to go out. And… get a look at him. Lieutenant Whatshisname.

“SUE” turns and runs straight into LT. HARRIS—at Smitty’s Bar. LT. HARRIS:

Oh, I’m sorry.

“SUE”:

No, excuse me…

She looks up at him, and realizes he’s actually hunky. He, likewise, realizes he’s run into a fairly attractive woman, and becomes a little cheesier.

LT. HARRIS:

No, really, it was all my fault… and, my pleasure.

“SUE”:

(Addressing the audience/writing in diary.) Oh please.

LT. HARRIS:

Can I buy you a drink?

“SUE”:

This bonehead is actually offering to buy me a drink. Could I really pass up an opportunity to figure out what makes the Lieutenant tick? (She addresses him. She’s actually nervous when speaking to him.) I… okay. Yes, sure. I’ll have a martini.

LT. HARRIS:

Gin, I’m sure.

“SUE”:

(To Diary/Audience.) What an idiot. (To him.)

Tee hee… uh… yeah. Gin. (To Diary/Audience) Oh god. I was the idiot. Anyway, he bought me a drink… and then another. And I guess in my year of sewage only, I’ve become a bit of a lightweight. I could barely keep my eyes open.

52

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES LT. HARRIS:

… and you know, I’m actually the lead investigator on the Sewermonster case. I’m sure you’ve read about it.

“SUE”:

(Barely propping up her chin) Ummm. Hmmm.

Yeah.

LT. HARRIS:

I’ve come up with a whole new strategy. It’s going to be a great week for me I can tell. Maybe next week you’ll meet me back here and we’ll celebrate my victory over the insidious beast!

I will bring him down!

“SUE”:

(Diary/Audience) And like that. All night. On and on. I couldn’t believe it. Okay… he… wasn’t bad to look at. (She takes a long look at him.) And I guess if I just imagined he was saying other things…

LT. HARRIS:

(Imaginarily saying other things.) You are so smart. You are so adorable. Please, Miss. Make me a better person. Teach me to be like you…

“SUE”:

I started to think I could face a few more days on earth as a human, but this chatter… well, I couldn’t take it. I straightened myself up… (She does.) and walked right out of the bar… and right smack into…

SYLVIA and DOUG are picketing for the SMVA.

SYLVIA:

Lt. Harris drinks beer while victims suffer!

DOUG:

Stop the suffering!

“SUE”:

Oh no.

SYLVIA:

Jennifer?

“SUE”:

I’m sorry, you must be mistaking…

DOUG:

Jenny! Jenny Jen Jen! Where’ve you been! Your landlord just had all your belongings carted to the dump!

53

SEWERMONSTER DIARIES SYLVIA:

We guessed you were dead!

DOUG:

HaHaHa! They laugh together. All lights fade except for a special on “SUE”.

“SUE”:

Dear Diary, I’m back. I’m not sorry I made the trip up there, I guess. I could almost imagine a life up there that was bearable. I think— well, maybe someday I will go back. It’s not so bad there. At least nobody calls me “him” when they see me in person. I’m not ready to go back just yet, though. As it turns out… I’ve got some more work to do.

Lights fade out as:

SYLVIA:

Aaaiiieiieieieiieieieiieieieieeeeeeeeee End of play.

54

INVESTING

By Evelyn Jean Pine

21

INVESTING

By Evelyn Jean Pine INVESTING was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on November 20, 2006. It was directed by William O. Selig. The cast was as follows: Queen Isabella .................................................... Gwen Loeb King Ferdinand .................................................... Tim Kniffin INVESTING was premiered by PlayGround at the 11th Annual Best of PlayGround (2007) festival on May 10, 2007. It was directed by Elizabeth Williamson. The cast was as follows: Queen Isabella ............................................... Karen Aldridge King Ferdinand ................................................ Brian Herndon Evelyn Jean Pine is the recipient the 2007 June Anne Baker Prize from PlayGround. She has won two Emerging Playwright Awards (2005 & 2007). Her plays have been staged in San Francisco, Berkeley, Monte Rio, CA; Kansas City, MO; Charlottesville, VA; and Bethesda, MD. She has studied with Charlie Varon, Spalding Gray, and Grace Walcott. Her short stories have appeared in Seventeen, Sassy and Collage. She is teaching in the Communications Department at San Francisco State University where she is an MFA student in Creative Writing. She lives in San Francisco with her husband, Doug Peckler, and their ten-year old son.

22

INVESTING

By Evelyn Jean Pine Characters: Queen Isabella, 41 King Ferdinand, 40, her husband 1492. A room in the Alcazar in Cordoba, Spain. After dismissing Christopher Columbus, who proposed the Royals support his exploration of the western oceans to find trade routes to China and India, ISABELLA and FERDINAND have retired to their quarters. Columbus has only left the Alcazar moments before to head to France to sell his proposal to the king there. FERDINAND is playful, pleased they finally made their decision, but aware his wife was intrigued by Columbus’s proposal and might feel disappointed.

FERDINAND:

Ours is a fiscally responsible decision.

ISABELLA ignores him, sews.

FERDINAND:

Isabella.

ISABELLA sews.

FERDINAND:

You see the glass as half full where in reality it is half empty.

ISABELLA says nothing, sews.

FERDINAND:

Yes, we sent him away. (As if to Columbus) “Christopher Columbus, we appreciated once again having the opportunity to consider your proposal. We respect you and all the assistance you have given us over the years. And we find the idea of discovering new trade routes to China and India very intriguing, but frankly, for us, it is just too expensive, difficult to replicate and scale, and a bit too (Looks at Isabella, trying to get her to laugh.) whack.”

ISABELLA ignores him, sews.

23

INVESTING FERDINAND:

Trust me, Isabella, ours was the right decision. If we gave support to every visionary who came our way, we’d have nothing. Even Portugal wouldn’t go for this scheme and, believe me, with all his slave traders, he has become a formidable philanthropic force.

ISABELLA gestures for him to come over to her. He does eagerly, but all she does is measure the shirt to see how much she should hem.

FERDINAND:

I know what you’re thinking. (Being her) “Granada has fallen, the Moors vanquished. Our world has a glorious bounty!” (As himself again) Am I right? (Her again) “We’ve been so focused on our crusade. Perhaps, now is time for less ancient adventures.” (As himself) Yes? (Once again as Isabella) “A red-haired Italian sailor with so many marvelous stories and remarkable visions, how could I possibly refuse?”

ISABELLA rolls her eyes, sews some more.

FERDINAND:

I am not a jealous man. I know my own strength.

Why would a king ever fear a sailor? (FERDINAND smiles. He’s her again.) “This could be our legacy: a short cut to the Far East. Bring the world together, make it smaller.” (As himself) Look, maybe you can sail west and manage to land in India. In fact, I believe you could. Who doesn’t? In theory. But sunken ships are worth nothing. I don’t want to spend our money on misadventure or even on spices and silks. We must never forget our mission: Our money — and I know the Pope agrees with me on this — is to be used for the One True Church. Besides, Isabella, your legacy will not be trade or ships or exploration. You will be known as the great queen who vanquished the infidel by sewing her husband’s shirts.

ISABELLA jabs her thumb with the needle.

24

INVESTING ISABELLA:

Ow!

FERDINAND:

What did you do?

FERDINAND goes over to her and takes her hand. She pulls it away. He takes it again. She pulls it away. He takes it a third time. She looks at him. He puts her thumb in his mouth and sucks on the blood. After a moment, she strokes his hair.

ISABELLA:

Our mission: The glory of God. All to the One True Faith. Didn’t Columbus say as he stood before us: (As Columbus) “I plead with your majesties to spend all the treasures from this enterprise on the conquest of Jerusalem.” All the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I thought about you, my Liege, in the Holy Land.

This is not about India or China. This is not about trade routes, silk, spices. Wherever Columbus goes, he will bring souls to Christ.

FERDINAND:

Three ships. What’s the matter with one?

ISABELLA:

He knows what he’s doing.

FERDINAND:

Three ships destroyed at sea. That money is better spent on the religious courts.

ISABELLA:

But, my Liege, this will support the Inquisition.

Now FERDINAND rolls his eyes.

ISABELLA:

All the wealth he’ll bring back. Straight to the Grand Inquisitor. Our cup would overflow. Take off your shirt.

FERDINAND does. ISABELLA gives him a long look and hands him the shirt she’s been sewing. She watches as he puts it on. Then she sighs.

ISABELLA:

My Liege, you’re magnificent.

FERDINAND:

Like Charlemagne. I am grateful to my wife.

25

INVESTING ISABELLA:

But my lord, you deserve silk.

FERDINAND:

Isabella, Columbus is on his way to France.

ISABELLA:

Only moments ago. Call him back.

FERDINAND:

No.

ISABELLA:

It’s an investment. You must spend money to make money.

FERDINAND:

No.

ISABELLA:

God rewards our piety. Has there ever been a more generous and productive people? The mosques are now cathedrals. The priest waves incense where the infidel once sat. Granada has fallen. We have prospered.

FERDINAND:

No.

ISABELLA:

Yes.

FERDINAND:

I will not spend my money on this.

ISABELLA:

Our money. (Pause) Columbus is on to something.

FERDINAND:

No one wants to spend their money on sunken ships and dead sailors.

ISABELLA:

But Don Abraham says—

FERDINAND:

Don Abraham? The wealthiest man in Spain? The largest landlord? The Jew. I’m sure he has advice, but does he invest? Of course not.

As FERDINAND has been speaking, ISABELLA’s idea has begun to form.

FERDINAND:

We’ve decided. No.

26

INVESTING ISABELLA:

Granada has fallen, but there are apostates among us. Almost every day — hideous confessions to the most unimaginable sins. It is such a relief when these people are hanged, drowned, burned. Torquemada insists it is the Jews that pollute the kingdom. (Helping FERDINAND to take the sewn shirt off) We’ve failed.

FERDINAND:

We’ve had great success in battle.

ISABELLA:

Nothing we do dissuades the Jews from their war against the True Faith. We must remove them.

FERDINAND:

What?

ISABELLA:

They must go.

FERDINAND:

But Don Abraham? Don Isaacs? Our closest advisors.

ISABELLA:

Our closest advisor is Christ. Why don’t they convert?

FERDINAND:

Much of the administration—

ISABELLA:

The Jews must go. All of them. They don’t belong here. (She gives him back his original shirt.)

FERDINAND:

(Considering it all rationally) True. To get rid of the Moors and retain the Jews...

FERDINAND puts his shirt on. ISABELLA is making a few adjustments on the shirt she’s sewn.

ISABELLA:

Absolute madness.

FERDINAND:

But how?

ISABELLA:

Order them out.

FERDINAND:

When?

ISABELLA:

Immediately.

27

INVESTING FERDINAND:

They’ll need time. To make arrangements.

ISABELLA:

A deadline.

FERDINAND:

Exactly.

ISABELLA:

July.

Silence. She sews.

ISABELLA:

And their property?

FERDINAND:

What?

ISABELLA:

Their lands? Their holdings?

FERDINAND:

Much of it will revert to us.

ISABELLA:

So we’ll have a cushion. (Stops sewing) A safety net.

FERDINAND:

Yes.

ISABELLA:

(She goes to him.) A bit to spare. To invest. (She kisses him then breaks away.) I must get someone to call back Columbus. You’ll be glorious riding into the Holy Land, wearing silk.

Lights down.

End of play.

28

GIVING UP THE GHOST

By Lauren Yee

21

GIVING UP THE GHOST

By Lauren Yee GIVING UP THE GHOST was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on November 19, 2007. It was directed by George Maguire. The cast was as follows: Kathleen........................................................ Nancy Madden Dale .............................................................. Avery Monsen Liz ............................................................... Christen Karle Rob ............................................................ Chad Deverman GIVING UP THE GHOST was premiered by PlayGround at the 12th Annual Best of PlayGround (2008) festival on May 8, 2008. It was directed by James A. Kleinmann. The cast was as follows: Kathleen..........................................................BW Gonzalez Dale ...........................................................Joseph O’Malley Liz ............................................................... Christen Karle Rob .......................................................Anthony Nemirovsky Lauren Yee was a finalist for the Jerome Fellowship in 2008 and the Humana Festival’s Heideman Award in 2007. She has received commissions from Minneapolis’s Theatre Mu and New York’s O’Neill Festival. Her work has premiered in New York, Los Angeles, Seattle, Boston, and other cities. Locally, she has worked with Asian American Theater Company, Berkeley Rep School of Theatre, Bindlestiff, City Lights Theatre, and Three Wise Monkeys. Her fulllength Ching Chong Chinaman will receive its world premiere at Theatre Mu in 2009. She is also the 2008 June Anne Baker Prize winner. www.laurenyee.com

22

GIVING UP THE GHOST

By Lauren Yee Characters: Kathleen, a mother of twentysomethings Dale, 23 Liz, 25 Rob, 24 KATHLEEN stands in the middle of the stage. She carries a plate with three birthday cupcakes, each stuck with a single lit candle. To the audience...

KATHLEEN:

Some people do great things with their lives.

They invent trains, kitchen appliances, steel wool. Others live through their actions, their deeds, their bank accounts. I live through my children. My little warriors. I thought I’d get so lonely with them gone, but no! Four years, graduation, and here they are! I never realized all those years that my little sparrows were actually just homing pigeons. It’s nice having them back home again. It’s like they’ve never left at all and they’re never going to leave. Oh well! (focus on LIZ) Liz does the laundry— (focus on ROB) Rob takes out the trash— (focus on DALE) And my baby Dale, he keeps me company.

The happy family gathers around the plate of cupcakes.

KATHLEEN:

Happy birthday, dears!

LIZ and ROB blow out their candles. DALE stops.

DALE:

I want to move out.

KATHLEEN sobs. Lighting changes. LIZ circles DALE as he packs. ROB looks on.

23

GIVING UP THE GHOST LIZ:

Well, you can’t.

DALE:

Yes, I can.

LIZ:

Yes, physically, you can. But ethically, morally, financially?

ROB:

Liz!

LIZ:

SF rent, Rob!

DALE:

I meant to New York. I’m moving to New York.

LIZ:

New York? The only thing worse than renting in SF: New York.

DALE:

Jessie’s sharing a flat in Park Slope.

ROB:

Jessie dumped you.

DALE:

For living here.

LIZ:

Which is why you can’t leave!

DALE:

She has a place where I can stay, we’re working things out.

LIZ:

New York, Jessie, Park Slope?

DALE:

I’m 23 and I don’t even have a job!

LIZ:

I don’t have a job. Rob doesn’t have a job.

DALE:

Well, maybe we should get some.

LIZ:

That is not the point. The point is, you’re 23, you have the rest of your life ahead of you, you can’t just leave. I’m the oldest. I leave. I leave first.

DALE:

You’re 25.

24

GIVING UP THE GHOST LIZ:

I took a year off. And then I did a fellowship. And a residency. And now I’m doing an internship. I don’t need a job to be happy, I don’t need to move out to be happy. Listen, I understand if you want to go away for a couple months, a semester, a summer, teach in China, Habitat, Peace Corps, Teach for America, AmeriCorps, go to grad school, get a Fulbright, a Gates, a Marshall, a Mitchell, a Rhodes, whatever: that’s fine. But we are way too smart and too educated to just go off and get any old job. What do you think this job’s gonna be anyway?

DALE:

I don’t know. Waiting tables?

LIZ:

Waiting tables?

DALE:

I wait tables during the day. At night, I do my music, and I mean, it’ll be New York!

LIZ:

Dale, you’re not going to be a musician, you’re going to be a waiter. A waiter paying New York rent.

DALE:

And your internship?

LIZ:

That’s different. An internship is training, a finite period of time. A job? A job job? You get a job now and you’ll still have it next year, the year after, the year after — who knows how long you’ll have it. You get a job now, you are stuck with it. For life! Don’t you want to do something just a little greater?

DALE shuts his suitcase. LIZ is disgusted.

LIZ:

Rob, you talk to him!

LIZ exits.

DALE:

God: Mom, Liz!—

ROB:

I know. I feel you.

25

GIVING UP THE GHOST DALE:

When I was in middle school, I used to think, that 23 was so old. Like: old. And now that I am, I know: it is. I’m 23 and what do I have to show for it?

ROB:

I don’t think any of us realized we’d get old so fast.

DALE:

I mean: I’m 23.

ROB:

(raises his hand) 24.

DALE:

I used to be seventeen. Now I’m 23 and leaving tip. God.

ROB:

Sucks, doesn’t it?

DALE:

Fifty years ago, at my age, people were getting married. Fighting wars. Having babies. Voting. 23 and I haven’t done any of that.

ROB:

You know you don’t have to go to New York to do the voting thing.

DALE:

I need to, like, get out there and start stuff.

Make music, make art. I’m an artist. What am I doing in San Francisco? Don’t you ever think: forty, fifty years, I’m gonna be in an elevator or in the bathtub or on the phone and (snaps) that’ll be the end of me. I’ll be dead, having done nothing particularly remarkable.

ROB:

Yeah, but that’s like most people.

DALE:

What if I don’t even have forty, fifty years? What if it’s four or five?

ROB:

Hey, look at me: I move out, I move somewhere else, what’s the difference? I make a lot of nothing somewhere else in somebody else’s house. See, now Liz thinks she’s gonna find something. She thinks she’s gonna go to grad school or law school, get some really fulfilling job, be famous. She’s not. The difference between me and her is that I know my life’s over.

26

GIVING UP THE GHOST ROB: (cont.)

In five or six years, I’m gonna be 29, 30, fucking middle-aged. It’s just a matter of time. We live extraordinarily ordinary lives, man. And that’s okay.

DALE:

I’ve only been home a year.

ROB:

25 percent of your life. Over. A third, even.

Think of everyone who’s famous: Avril, Britney, Christina, Justin. Mozart? They all did it before they turned twenty-one. You hit it early or you don’t hit it at all. Fucking Hanson. Not just one but two, three international sensations before the age of eighteen? It’s over. It’s too late. You know what struck me most after college? How expensive condoms were. A dollar each, maybe more. At school, health services was throwing them at us, gobs of them. Now: a dollar. It’s just too damn expensive. The carefree days are over, man. I don’t have that kind of money anymore.

But that’s the reality of it: can’t even have free sex.

Dale’s cell phone rings. DALE checks it.

DALE:

Well, I can. With Jessie.

DALE leaves his suitcase behind to answer it. He exits.

KATHLEEN enters from the other side, with LIZ.

KATHLEEN:

Maybe we should let Dale do what he wants.

LIZ:

Mom, no! Four years, college, he got to do what he wanted to. Now it’s time to be practical.

KATHLEEN:

Maybe he wants a little independence.

LIZ:

There’re parents who let their kids get “jobs” after graduation, rack up debt, credit cards, mortgages, car payments, children.

KATHLEEN:

I like children.

27

GIVING UP THE GHOST LIZ:

Mom, pay attention! And you know where these parents end up?

ROB:

Florida?

LIZ:

Nursing homes. In Fresno.

KATHLEEN:

It was just a thought.

LIZ:

Elder abuse. There was an article in The New York Times last week, about elder abuse.

ROB:

What did it say?

LIZ:

I don’t know. It was an article. The point is, you let your children leave now, who’s going to care for you now that you’re old?

KATHLEEN:

Now that I’m old?

LIZ:

50’s the new 80. It’s okay now, but you’re gonna get old fast. Alzheimer’s. Mom, old people are getting older than ever, living through more depressing misery than ever. Cancer, stroke, AIDS, STDs. They’re living to 90, Mom, but after 45, physically? — they’re gone. They are GONE. It’s all downhill from there. And sooner or later, they’re gonna die.

ROB:

New York Times?

LIZ:

I read the headline.

DALE enters, stunned. Everyone else is quiet.

KATHLEEN:

Dale?

LIZ:

What did you tell him?

ROB:

I just said he’s never going to do anything with his life.

KATHLEEN:

Dale, honey?

28

GIVING UP THE GHOST DALE:

She doesn’t want me. She found someone else.

Someone... younger.

KATHLEEN:

Well, that’s nice.

DALE grabs the very small knife from Kathleen’s cupcake plate.

KATHLEEN:

Dale, honey—

LIZ:

You have so much to live for.

ROB:

Like us!

LIZ:

And your inheritance!

ROB:

Seriously, man, I was kidding: there’re plenty of artists who make it later in life, really! Like— Pregnant pause. LIZ, ROB, and KATHLEEN try to brainstorm names.

LIZ:

Like plenty of artists!

Dale’s cell phone vibrates. DALE checks his phone. A text message.

DALE:

And he’s going to be on TRL. This is too much. DALE sobs as he violently texts his exgirlfriend back. The family embraces DALE and pries the cell phone from his fingers. DALE gives up. Release.

ROB:

Come on, man. We need you. The rest of the world might not, but we do.

LIZ:

And if there’s one thing a first-class private school education taught us, it’s that when it comes down to it, it’s family that matters.

KATHLEEN:

That’s right. Not knives, darling.

KATHLEEN gingerly also takes away the knife. She relights Dale’s candle.

29

GIVING UP THE GHOST LIZ:

Come on, Dale.

KATHLEEN thrusts the cupcake at DALE.

ROB:

Happy birthday.

KATHLEEN:

Welcome home, dear.

DALE considers. He sighs and blows out his candle.

Blackout.

End of play.

30

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD

By Erin Bregman

31

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD

By Erin Bregman JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on January 12, 2009. It was directed by Mina Morita. The cast was as follows: Lydia ........................................................... Rebecca White Rachel .....................................................Michelle Pava Mills Jacob........................................................... Gabrielle Grilli John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton.............................. Louis Parnell Karen ..........................................................Cindy Goldfield JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD was premiered by PlayGround at the 13th Annual Best of PlayGround (2009) festival on May 7, 2009. It was directed by James A. Kleinmann. The cast was as follows: Lydia ................................................................. Lisa Morse Rachel .......................................................... Danielle Levin Jacob..............................................................Aaron Wilton John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton...............................Soren Oliver Karen ..........................................................Cindy Goldfield Erin Bregman studied literature and playwriting at the College of Creative Studies at UCSB where she was a recipient of the Dilling Yang Fellowship in Dramatic Arts, and the Corwin Award. She received a Magic Theatre/Sloan Commission in 2006, and has had work performed or developed at the Playwrights Foundation, Just Theater, UCSB New Plays Festival, and UCSB Summer Theater Lab. Erin was selected as a BASH! writer (Bay Area SHorts) as part of the 2008 Bay Area Playwrights Festival. She was a finalist in 2008 for the Princess Grace Awards, and a semifinalist for PlayLabs and the O’Neill Conference. In 2009, she was awarded the June Anne Baker Prize and a full-length commission from PlayGround.

32

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD

By Erin Bregman Characters: Lydia, 26, female Rachel, 25, female, Lydia’s housemate Jacob, 30, male, a great singer of beautiful songs John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton, 62, male, wealthy banker with dreams of world peace Karen, 35, female, the brains behind Smitherton International Time: January 1st, 2009.

Place: A bedroom, kitchen, street corner, and home office.

LYDIA, lying in bed, wakes up with a start.

LYDIA:

Lydia, newly and unsatisfactorily employed, awoke with a start that morning, on the first day of the new year, with a resolve and resolution to, at long last, address the situation at hand with the goal of getting her housemate to pick up after herself in the kitchen, which would in turn promote world peace. She got out of bed, put on her socks, and went into the kitchen while attempting to recall the details of a particularly vivid and confounding dream that had come upon her in the night.

She gets out of bed, can’t find her socks, and goes into the kitchen barefoot.

In the kitchen is RACHEL. Everything she does is loud, and on the verge of being out of control.

RACHEL:

Rachel, her housemate, was already up, awake, and making tea on the first morning of the first day of the new year. She was thinking about the dawn of an unnamed future when she would be in the position to finally fulfill her dream of being a dog owner. Today was not that day, but she had high hopes for the coming year. As Lydia entered, she wished her a good morning .“Morning.”

LYDIA:

“Morning.”

33

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD RACHEL:

Happy New Year, she said, though they’d already wished it to one another half a dozen times the night before during champagne toasts and balloon drops, but she liked hearing those words together in a string so she said it again.

“Happy New Year!”

LYDIA:

You too, said Lydia, though she hardly felt it. It had been said enough the night before, and she really resented redundancies.

RACHEL:

“Resolutions?”

LYDIA:

“Yes.” She tried to think of a tactful way to approach the subject, and then concluded that tact was not part of this particular resolution.

“I’ve resolved to get you to clean up after yourself in the kitchen, while promoting world peace.”

RACHEL:

“I do clean up after myself.”

LYDIA:

“Why is there popcorn on the floor? That cupcake pan has been soaking on the counter for a week, and there are half a dozen teabags molding on the windowsill.”

RACHEL:

“They aren’t mine.”

LYDIA:

“I don’t eat popcorn, the cupcake pan appeared while I was away on vacation, and you know perfectly well that I hate Earl Grey.”

RACHEL:

“Oh.” She was offended, but tried not to show it.

She looks very offended.

RACHEL:

“What does that have to do with world peace?”

LYDIA:

“Clean up and you’ll see.”

A street corner. JACOB enters.

34

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD JACOB:

Meanwhile, Jacob, a man of questionable parentage and good intentions, stood on a nearby street corner singing songs of great sorrow with the dual hopes of spreading a new kind of beauty into the hearts of his neighbors in the new year, as well as possibly earning some spare change. His hat had been out for close to an hour, but remained decidedly empty.

He sings a song of great sorrow.

LYDIA enters.

LYDIA:

En route to the street corner on of great sorrow. and the passion to a halt.

grocery store, Lydia passed the which Jacob stood, singing songs The beauty of his melodic voice, with which he sang brought her

JACOB:

He noticed her at once. He wanted to stop and ask her name, but was sure that the moment he stopped singing, she would leave. He never wanted her to leave, so he was determined never to stop singing.

Without stopping, he segues into another song of great sorrow and beauty.

LYDIA:

Lydia decided to continue on her way to the grocery store at the end of his next song. But one tune gave way to the next— JACOB segues without stopping into another song of great sorrow and beauty.

LYDIA:

—and that song gave seamless way to the next— Again, he segues without stopping into another song of great sorrow and beauty.

35

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD LYDIA:

—with that one transitioning so smoothly to another that it became abundantly clear to Lydia that if she had to wait for the end of his singing, she would be standing on that street corner forever, which seemed not only impractical, but cold, lonely, and incongruous with the resolutions she had made that morning. Thus it was, that at the turn of the next melody— JACOB transitions again.

LYDIA:

—Lydia took the singer by the hand, and led him home.

She takes JACOB by the hand, he picks up his hat, and is led away, still singing.

A learned man behind a desk.

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton, head banker of John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton International, was not a crook. He had, in fact, participated in only one small single illegal event over the course of his sixty-two years upon the Earth, and that one small single illegal event had had nothing to do with money. John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton was exceedingly wealthy, and had only that morning resolved, for better or for worse, to use the whole of his equity to instill peace into the world. How he would do this, he was not entirely sure. But he did have a plan.

“Karen!”

KAREN enters, with coffee.

KAREN:

Karen was his servant, housekeep, barista, secretary, and tutor to his ten-year-old niece.

She was, above all else, brilliant. She addressed him in the typical fashion in which servants, housekeepers, baristas, secretaries and tutors address their respective employers.

“Yes?”

36

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: “I have a question about world peace.”

KAREN:

“In abstract, conditional, superficial, metaphorical, or substantively universal terms, Sir?”

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: “The latter.”

KAREN:

“And your question?”

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: “How might I go about buying it?”

KAREN:

“How much are you willing to spend?”

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: “Everything.”

He had decided that a long time ago.

“All of it, minus twenty years living expenses for me, and a nice bonus for the both of us.”

KAREN:

“Twenty years, Sir?”

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: “Better make it thirty.”

His health was in no state to realistically expect thirty more years upon this Earth, but he supposed that life expectancy was sure to increase drastically in the environment of a peaceful world, and thus chose to err on the side of optimism.

KAREN:

“With your assets, Sir, I think the first step would be to find a singular voice for the people to rally behind.”

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: “Wonderful. Could you find that for me?”

KAREN:

Certainly, she responded, and left the room as quickly as possible, deeply puzzled by the task she had unwittingly set herself on this first morning of the first day of the new year.

37

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD KAREN leaves.

RACHEL in the kitchen. It has been cleaned.

RACHEL:

Rachel, in a gesture of goodwill and new beginnings for the new year, had just disposed of the popcorn, pan, and molding teabags when Lydia entered with a singing Jacob in tow.

LYDIA enters the kitchen, leading JACOB by the hand. He still sings a song of great sorrow and beauty.

LYDIA:

Isn’t he wonderful, she asked, and in a moment of pure spontaneous joy, began to sing along with Jacob in perfect harmony.

LYDIA and JACOB sing a song of great sorrow and beauty together in perfect harmony.

RACHEL:

Rachel stood across from them in the kitchen, witness to their song of great beauty. This, she thought, is a true expression of all that is great and good in the world.

“What brilliant people!” she exclaimed, and ran through the house throwing open doors and windows so their voices could more easily waft into the outside airwaves, and thus into the ears and hearts of her neighbors.

RACHEL runs about throwing open doors and windows, as LYDIA and JACOB continue their song.

KAREN, on a street corner, enters.

KAREN:

At that very moment, Karen was passing by the same street corner upon which Lydia had first encountered Jacob. She herself was enroute to the grocery store, as John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton was out of tea. As she rounded the corner, she heard the faintest of melodies, harmonious and beautiful, enter her left ear and settle itself in her heart. At once, she felt at peace. This, she thought, is the voice John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton needs, and without hesitation, she set off to find it.

38

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON behind his desk.

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: In the spirit of promoting world peace, John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton decided it was time to make peace with his own ghosts. He turned to where he was sure they had always been hiding, and declared: “I forgive you!”

In a sudden rush of wind they departed, and John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton took pleasure in knowing that they were, at last, truly free. In celebration, he poured himself another cup of tea, and began to daydream about what his first adventure would be in the soon-to-be-newlypeaceful world.

He tries to pour himself tea, but there is none. Regardless, he ponders world peace profusely.

KAREN on the sidewalk in front of LYDIA’s house.

KAREN:

As Karen drew nearer to the source of the singing, she sensed in a rogue gust of wind the release of John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton’s personal ghosts. She was so touched by his gesture that she began to sing along with the beautiful, sad melody as she walked up the front steps of the house from which it resonated, and in through the open door.

KAREN begins to sing in harmony with LYDIA and JACOB. She enters the house, walks into the kitchen, and stands with them, singing.

RACHEL:

Rachel was so moved by the addition of a third voice to this never-ending song of great sorrow and beauty that she decided to take it upon herself to keep the melody spreading. So she picked up the phone, and called her mother.

RACHEL picks up the phone, and calls her mother. She holds the receiver up in front of the singers so her mother can hear their song.

39

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON’S BID TO SAVE THE WORLD RACHEL:

Her mother was so moved that she added a remote fourth voice from her apartment where she lived with her son-in-law’s cousin, who in turn called his sister, who called her daughter, who was best friends with the ten-year-old niece of John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton.

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON behind his desk. Everyone who has been singing is still singing.

JOHN JACOB O’REILLY SMITHERTON: When the ten-year-old niece of John Jacob O’Reilly Smitherton called him, she was already singing. He could hear Karen’s voice through the trail of phone calls, and at once burst into song himself.

He bursts into song.

Everyone in the house, still singing.

JACOB:

Jacob was thrilled. It was only a matter of minutes before the song was being sung by everyone in the neighborhood, a matter of hours before it had taken over the entire state. And by that night, it had spread to all the furthest and most remote corners of the earth, where leaders and sinners sang side by side, harmonies perfect and imperfect, in time and out of time, but all with a single, unifying purpose.

LYDIA:

And so it was that when the eight billionth voice joined in, such was the fury and beauty of the song that nobody noticed when I stopped singing.

JACOB:

Or when I stopped singing.

LYDIA:

And nobody noticed as we silently crept away to enjoy our first adventure in a newly peaceful world.

End of play.

40

UNDONE

By Diane Sampson

— 77 —

UNDONE

By Diane Sampson UNDONE was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on February 15, 2010. It was directed by Tracy Ward. The cast was as follows: Ron......................................................... Jackson Davis Laura....................................................... Julia Brothers Rebecca................................................. Rebecca Pingree Alison.................................................. Rinabeth Apostol UNDONE was premiered by PlayGround at the 14th Annual Best of PlayGround (2010) festival on May 6, 2010. It was directed by James A. Kleinmann. The cast was as follows: Ron.........................................................Brian Herndon Laura........................................................... Stacy Ross Rebecca......................................................Elena Wright Alison.................................................. Rinabeth Apostol Diane Sampson is composer/lyricist and book co-author for two musicals, Oh, Progeny! (two Bay Area productions) and Writes and Re-writes. Her full-length play Charlotte Takes the Plunge had two staged readings in San Francisco, and her short piece Poetic License won grand prize (November 2006) in L.A.’s Eclectic Company Theatre’s annual festival. Other short works have been produced throughout California and elsewhere. This is Diane’s sixth season as a PlayGround Writers Pool member. She is thrilled to be in the Festival and this year’s June Anne Baker Prize winner.

— 78 —

UNDONE

By Diane Sampson Characters: Ron, male, late 50s, Caucasian, casually but nicely dressed with a professorial look.

Laura, female, mid-50s, Caucasian, Ron’s wife, casually but nicely dressed.

Rebecca, female, 30, Ron’s and Laura’s younger daughter, dressed very casually, a bit unkempt as new mothers can be.

Alison, female, 32, Ron’s and Laura’s older daughter, dressed nicely, even tastefully, but with clear intent to appear sexy.

Oliver, male, an infant, played by a doll, wrapped in a blanket so not seen that clearly.

Setting: The office of Ron’s and Laura’s psychotherapist (though he/she is never seen, being on the other side of the fourth wall) and Rebecca’s living room, with a couch and a coffee table. Time is the present.

(RON and LAURA sit in chairs downstage right about two feet apart. Sometimes when speaking, they address the fourth wall, where, presumably, there’s a therapist with whom they are meeting for the first time. Sometimes, they speak to each other. If not obvious, the shift is indicated in stage directions.)

RON: We have two daughters.

LAURA: We had two daughters. Now we have one.

RON: (Repeating, to make his point.) Two daughters. Their names are Alison and Rebecca. Alison for my grandmother Alma, who raised me, and Rebecca, well... We just liked the name. Ally is two years older than Becca. It’s true they didn’t get along very well as kids, but then, what siblings do? (To LAURA.) Remember when Alison was a baby and she cried? How we used to calm her down?

LAURA: (Wanting to stop this trip down memory lane.) Ron—

— 79 —

UNDONE

RON: (To fourth wall.) We sang to her from South Pacific. Tried to sneak in tunes from other musicals but for some reason it didn’t work. (To LAURA.) We learned the words to every damn song from that show, remember? (Sings.) “Happy talk, keep talkin’ happy talk—” LAURA: Ron, we have to cut her loose. I have to.

RON: Cut her loose? I don’t even know what that means. (To fourth wall.) There have been problems. I admit it. But what parents don’t have problems with their kids? My colleague?

At Brown, his son was heavy into drugs. Heroin, cocaine, the whole nine yards. Had to drop out of school for a year and go into rehab. Ben and Martha were sick about it. Now? Now that same kid is finishing his residency in Urology at Mt. Sinai in New York. Case closed.

LAURA: (To RON.) It’s not the same thing. It’s apples and... cast iron... (To fourth wall.) My husband and my daughter Rebecca can’t bring themselves to see Alison as she is.

(RON and LAURA remain sitting. The scene shifts to REBECCA’s living room. ALISON and REBECCA on couch, talking. REBECCA holds her baby, OLIVER.) REBECCA: So I guess you didn’t love him?

ALISON: Oh, no. I did! I was devastated when we split up.

REBECCA: You looked so great together. And I could see he was crazy about you.

ALISON: And I was crazy about him, too. Believe me. It’s just that we didn’t want the same things. I mean, he wanted to go here and go there and not really settle down in any one place and that didn’t feel good to me because I want to get married and have babies and a house in the country. Like you. (Beat, then cheerily.) So we had to end it.

REBECCA: You want to be like me? Wow! That’s a switch. (Beat.)

I have to admit I think the life he wants sounds exciting.

Probably because (indicating OLIVER) I’m not going anywhere for quite a while.

— 80 —

UNDONE

ALISON: (Peeking at OLIVER, examining him.) He is so beautiful.

So... perfect.

REBECCA: He is, isn’t he? I tell Bobby, “We done good.” (Beat.)

You want some coffee?

ALISON: Yeah. Sure.

(Still holding OLIVER, REBECCA stands.)

ALISON: (Holding out her arms.) I’ll watch him.

REBECCA: (Visibly hesitates for a moment.) Okay. I’ll be right back.

(REBECCA hands OLIVER to ALISON, exits. While she’s gone, ALISON can be heard singing “Bali Ha’i” under her breath.

In a moment, REBECCA returns with two coffee mugs, puts them down on table.)

REBECCA: Bobby’s mom brought over this amazing pound cake.

Hold on just a minute.

(REBECCA exits again. While she’s gone, ALISON picks up one of the coffee mugs and, while blowing on it to cool it down, accidentally spills it on OLIVER. His cries can be heard immediately.)

REBECCA: (Running in.) My God, what happened?

(REBECCA grabs OLIVER back from ALISON.) ALISON: I’m sorry! The coffee spilled. It was an accident. I’m so sorry!

(REBECCA exits running with OLIVER. ALISON remains seated as scene shifts back to RON and LAURA.) RON: It was an accident, you know. Accidents happen.

LAURA: (To fourth wall.) You see what I mean? (Beat.) My ­husband is a knot theorist.

— 81 —

UNDONE

RON: What’s that got to do with anything?

LAURA: He thinks you can stretch or bend something infinitely and it will never tear.

RON: (To LAURA.) You’re oversimplifying. And it isn’t relevant, anyway. We’re talking about our eldest daughter. How you’ve decided to give up on her.

LAURA: Mostly I don’t understand his work. I never have and I never will. But it’s brought him a great deal of satisfaction.

I know that, and I’m happy for him.

RON: (To LAURA.) Can we stick to the subject? Please!

LAURA: (To RON.) This is the subject, Ron. Our family. Our... stuff.

RON: Like what?

LAURA: Like you had your work at the University and I had mine at home, taking care of the girls. You understand knots and links and... more knots. I understand Alison and Rebecca.

RON: If I’m not mistaken, I was being the breadwinner.

LAURA: Of course you were, and I was grateful. I am grateful.

RON: So can I help it if I didn’t know the girls in the way you did? But I still knew them pretty damn well. And I thought I knew you— LAURA: (To fourth wall.) Alison wasn’t happy when Rebecca was born, but it didn’t really worry me. I mean, I’d read the usual parenting books, so I thought I knew what to expect.

Okay, she twisted the arm off the baby doll I brought her when I came home with Becca. Fine. A little acting out. No big thing. And once I found her spitting into Rebecca’s crib, but I scolded her and she seemed chastened.

RON: You never told me she spit in the crib.

— 82 —

UNDONE

LAURA: I didn’t think it was that big a deal. I didn’t want it to be.

RON: Well, you should have told me.

LAURA: Maybe. I think you were finishing your dissertation at the time. I probably decided not to bother you. (To fourth wall.) Ron is an eminent mathematician now, a knot theorist, like I said. Did you know there’s something called an “unknot”? Isn’t that a strange idea? Does it mean something that was never knotted or something that was knotted, but isn’t anymore, like a shoelace?

RON: What else didn’t you tell me?

LAURA: What else didn’t you see?

RON: What I don’t get is how you can turn your back on your own daughter. Your children have always been more important to you than anything. Including me.

LAURA: What’s that supposed to mean?

RON: Well, it’s true, isn’t it? “Let’s catch a movie,” I’d say. Or “The Harlem Gospel Choir’s in town.” But no. Ally’s throat was sore or you had to sew Becca’s Halloween costume.

LAURA: Or you couldn’t make it home to eat because you had to go to a colleague’s lecture or take a visiting professor out for dinner.

RON: Or you wouldn’t have sex because Becca had nightmares and she might come into our room. Like locking the door for a little while would have been a crime or something.

LAURA: You wanted to have sex and I wanted to make love.

That about says it all. (Beat, then to fourth wall.) We’re supposed to be talking about Alison, aren’t we? That’s why we’re here, right? (Beat.) Well, Alison has an anti-social ­personality disorder. That’s the label of the month. But people like her are also called— RON: Laura, think what you’re saying.

— 83 —

UNDONE

LAURA: —are also called psychopaths. I don’t want it to be true.

I’d give my life for it not to be true. But it is. It’s a fact.

RON: This has been a really stressful time and— LAURA: When Ally was a little girl, she was—what’s the word they always use when they don’t know how else to explain something?—different. Mean to other kids, especially her ­sister, which hasn’t changed. But very precocious and charming, so that others were attracted to her. Like moths to a flame, as it turned out. We took her to a therapist— RON: And she was better, right? Right?

LAURA: She just got cleverer, I think. But that’s what happens with psychopaths.

RON: When you say that word, it’s like you’re burning me with a hot iron.

LAURA: You think I want to say it? That it gives me satisfaction?

(Beat, to fourth wall.) I began to realize she lied a lot. Did things she’d been taught were bad, like steal. From her friends and from us. Sometimes she blamed it on Rebecca and sometimes we believed her. She was so convincing— RON: If she is... what you say—and I don’t believe she is—then she can’t help it. It’s a brain abnormality. Or we did something when she was a child that traumatized her, or maybe it was some kind of virus that we didn’t even know she had and it left her damaged.

LAURA: She got her friend Suzanne fired from a job so that she could take her place. And she came on to Bobby when Becca was at her college reunion and tried to get him to go to bed with her.

RON: And you know this how?

LAURA: Bobby told me. We agreed we’d never tell anyone, especially Rebecca because she’d be devastated. But I’m telling you, now, so that you’ll see who your daughter is.

— 84 —

UNDONE

RON: Isn’t it...? Couldn’t we...? She needs help. Right?

LAURA: That’s what I thought. But psychopaths can’t be helped, Ron. They all agree—the psychiatrists and the psychologists and the researchers and the frigging shamanic healers.

There’s no way to treat someone like Alison. Therapy. Drugs.

Nothing ever helps.

(The scene shifts back to ALISON and REBECCA at REBECCA’s house. They sit exactly as in earlier scene, with REBECCA holding OLIVER.) REBECCA: So I guess you didn’t love him?

ALISON: Oh, no. I did! I was devastated when we split up.

REBECCA: You looked great together. And I could see he was crazy about you.

ALISON: And I was crazy about him, too. Believe me. It’s just that we didn’t want the same things. I mean, he wanted to go here and go there and not really settle down in any one place and that didn’t feel good to me because I want to get married and have babies and a house in the country. Like you. (Beat, then cheerily.) So we had to end it.

REBECCA: You want to be like me? Wow! That’s a switch. (Beat.)

I have to admit I think the life he wants sounds exciting.

Probably because (indicating OLIVER) I’m not going anywhere for quite a while.

ALISON: (Peeking at OLIVER, examining him.) He is so beautiful.

So... perfect.

REBECCA: He is, isn’t he? I tell Bobby, “We done good.” (Beat.)

You want some coffee?

ALISON: Yeah. Sure.

(Still holding OLIVER, REBECCA stands.)

ALISON: (Holding out her arms.) I’ll watch him.

— 85 —

UNDONE

REBECCA: (Visibly hesitates for a moment.) Okay. I’ll be right back.

(REBECCA hands OLIVER to ALISON, exits. While she’s gone, ALISON can be heard singing “Bali Ha’i” under her breath.

In a moment, REBECCA returns with two coffee mugs, puts them down on table.)

REBECCA: Bobby’s mom brought over this amazing pound cake.

Hold on just a minute.

(REBECCA exits again. While she’s gone, ALISON picks up one of the coffee mugs and, very deliberately, spills it on OLIVER. His cries can be heard immediately.)

REBECCA: (Running in.) My God, what happened?

(REBECCA grabs OLIVER back from ALISON.) ALISON: I’m sorry! The coffee spilled. It was an accident. I’m so sorry!

(REBECCA exits running with OLIVER. ALISON remains seated as scene shifts back to RON and LAURA.) LAURA: (To fourth wall.) My husband lives in a world of abstractions. He theorizes about things and some of them don’t exist or maybe could exist, but no one has ever seen them.

(To RON.) I’m not like that. I live in the real world. She hurt our grandson.

RON: It was an accident.

LAURA: It was not.

RON: So what are you going to do? Stop loving her?

LAURA: I don’t know. I think I have to try.

(The scene shifts back to ALISON and REBECCA at REBECCA’s house. They sit exactly as in earlier scenes, with REBECCA holding OLIVER.)

— 86 —

UNDONE

REBECCA: So I guess you didn’t love him?

ALISON: Oh, no. I did! I was devastated when we split up...

(Curtain.)

End of play.

— 87 —

ESCAPADES A ballet with dialogue, or a dance through time and memory

By Mandy Hodge Rizvi

— 31 —

ESCAPADES

By Mandy Hodge Rizvi ESCAPADES was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on November 15, 2010. It was directed by Chris Smith. The cast was as follows: Ted......................................................... Robert Sicular Woman (Nurse, Daughter, Wife).......................... Gwen Loeb Male 1 (Son, Officer 1)................................... Louis Parnell Male 2 (Doctor, Officer 2).............................. David Cramer ESCAPADES was premiered by PlayGround at the 15th Annual Best of PlayGround (2011) festival on May 5, 2011. It was directed by M. Graham Smith. The cast was as follows: Ted......................................................... David Cramer Woman (Nurse, Daughter, Wife)....................... Holli Hornlien Male 1 (Son, Officer 1)..................................Brian Herndon Male 2 (Doctor, Officer 2)............................. Jomar Tagatac Mandy Hodge Rizvi grew up at the end of a dirt road in a small town in rural Connecticut. A general lack of playfellows and cable TV led to a desperate imagination that found asylum in the theatre. As a playwright, Mandy is interested in exploring the impact of literary and cultural influences on personal story­ telling, and loves to play with form. She is the 2011 winner of PlayGround’s June Anne Baker Prize. Escapades was written in loving memory of her grandfather.

— 32 —

ESCAPADES

By Mandy Hodge Rizvi

A NOTE ON THE MUSIC AND THE DANCE: This play is a contemporary ballet with dialogue. Honest lyrical movement replaces “choreography.”

The accompaniment for this piece is “Eclipse” by Helen Jane Long.

The actors need not be dancers, but they must be exquisite movers, capable of feeling the music and telling stories with their bodies as well as their words. Each character should find a different quality of movement.

Characters: Ted, an old man, an Everyman in white pajamas.

Man 1 (Son, Officer 1), male, 50s.

Man 2 (Doctor, Officer 2), male, middle-aged.

Woman (Nurse, Daughter, Wife), female, 40s, beautiful.

Setting: Upstage, a blank white wall with a door frame, center.

Several paces downstage, a chair, facing upstage, center.

Additional chairs enter and depart with other characters as dance movements unfold.

(Music begins.)

FIRST DANCE MOVEMENT

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE Lights up on an old man, TED, frozen in mid-sprint toward an illuminated doorway in a blank white wall, upstage.

Time reverses. TED sprints slowly backward as the light in the doorway goes out. Pause. TED removes his hat and coat.

He is wearing pajamas. He walks slowly backward into an upstage-facing chair. Pause. He sits, staring at the blank wall and the darkened doorway.

Snippets of old home movies flash and tremble across the white walls as strings enter music. TED watches with his whole body.

— 33 —

E S C A PA D E S

A beautiful woman in white, NURSE, moves gracefully toward TED as piano descants. Home movies fade out slowly. NURSE puts a hand on TED’s shoulder. He looks up hopefully. She gives him his pills, holds his head as he tosses it back, swallows.

She stands watch over him as he sinks low in the chair.

A man in black, Ted’s SON, John, enters. He moves forward with purpose as strings pulse. He sees TED, moves toward him, pulled like a magnet.

Another man in black, DOCTOR, enters slowly and method– ically toward an empty chair. JOHN continues toward TED. TED stares at the doorframe. JOHN calls, “Dad.” No reply.

He sighs with his whole body, steps into a room where DOCTOR sits, rigidly quiet, waiting. Music out.

Lights up. Men face off. DOCTOR nods, clears throat. JOHN sighs loudly.

SON: OK. Just tell me. What’s he done this time? I know it’s bad when you call me in this early.

DOCTOR: Have a seat.

SON: I’m fine standing.

DOCTOR: Alright. Mr. Leeds... there has been another incident.

SON: What kind of— DOCTOR: Now, as you know, your father’s Alzheimer’s has seriously progressed since he came to live here. SON: (overlapping) In the short time that I’ve What are you getting at? been here, the situation has gotten to the point where— I’m aware of the situation.

And you are also aware that he attacks our male nurses, disturbs our other residents, and has attempted to escape on numerous occasions? Escape? Jesus. You make it sound like a prison!

— 34 —

E S C A PA D E S

(Pause.)

DOCTOR: I’m sorry. I misspoke. He has attempted to leave the facility, without permission or any intention of returning, on numerous occasions. (Pause.) You remember our last conversation, Mr. Leeds?

SON: I’m not the one with the memory problem.

DOCTOR: Of course. Then you remember that I was very clear with you at our last meeting that, were the situation to escalate, we would have no choice...

SON: I remember the conversation. What are saying?

DOCTOR: I’m very sorry, Mr. Leeds. We have done everything we can do here. I’m afraid this is it.

SON: What do you mean, this is it? This is... this is what?

DOCTOR: We are no longer able to care for your father here at Laurel Hills.

SON: Wait. You’re kicking him out?!

DOCTOR: We don’t kick people out here, sir. We do what is best for the patient, for all of the patients. Your father will be transferred to the state facility, where he can be closely monitored...

SON: The state facility? Christ! What did he do? Have you ever been there, to the state facility? You’ve never been anywhere so depressing.

DOCTOR: The state facility has excellent doctors specializing in Alzheimer’s and all types of mental illness, and a program that is much better suited to your father’s special needs.

SON: Look, we have paid you a lot of money over the years. My mom was here for...

DOCTOR: Sir, this isn’t about money. I wish we could help your father.

— 35 —

E S C A PA D E S

SON: Then what’s it about? It’s a nursing home, for Christ’s Sake.

You can’t handle one old guy with Alzheimer’s.

DOCTOR: We have many patients here with Alzheimer’s. We are able to at least make them comfortable as their disease progresses, but your father... (SON snorts.) This isn’t a joke to us, Mr. Leeds. We take elder care very seriously here. We pride ourselves on improving the quality of life for patients who, for a variety of reasons, are no longer capable of— SON: I’ve read the brochure.

DOCTOR: Then you know that your father is not our only patient.

We have to do what’s best for everyone.

SON: No, I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t... Please. Just give him one more chance. I can pay whatever— DOCTOR: Sir, as I said, it would have absolutely no bearing on our decision. My hands are tied. I just don’t have the staff to monitor him continuously.

SON: Isn’t that why you put that bracelet on him, so you wouldn’t have to “monitor” him all the time? I mean, right? Isn’t that what it’s for? ... to lock the front door when he gets near it, or something?

DOCTOR: Yes, but last night your father found a way around that, as well.

SON: How? What, did he bust through front door? Pick the lock with a hairpin?

DOCTOR: No, he broke into a maintenance closet. He used the tools he found there to remove the bracelet. Two male nurses out for a cigarette break saw him sprinting at full tilt across the grounds and gave chase. They had never seen a man of his years move so fast, like he was running for his life. It took them quite some time to subdue him. One of them required several stitches.

— 36 —

E S C A PA D E S

SON: Are you kidding me? The man can’t remember to feed himself, or bathe himself, or wipe himself, and you’re sitting here telling me that he James Bonded himself into a top secret closet and MacGyvered off his tracking bracelet. That doesn’t seem likely.

DOCTOR: No, it doesn’t. I can’t explain it. It’s not logical, or fair. I know it seems cruel, but... Mr. Leeds, research shows that...

SON: Oh, your research... You people read some paper that some quack has published on… and you hand down sentences like… He’s my father, and this is bullshit! He’s not even a person to you!

DOCTOR: I’ll tell you who your father is to me, Mr. Leeds. Your father is a man who has absolutely no idea what day, or month, or year it is. He can’t tell you what the weather is outside or who the current president is. Doesn’t remember.

No idea. What he knows is that he’s a retired army officer, working as a maintenance man for the local thread company.

He doesn’t remember how to brush his teeth, but he knows the feeling of a tool in his hand, and how to use it. And he can’t remember for the life of him that he lives at Laurel Hills Nursing Home, no matter how many times we tell him, but he knows the exact number of steps to his front door— that he has a family there—a wife, and two kids. He doesn’t remember that his wife and daughter are both dead. He knows he needs to pick up milk, to fix the porch light, to mow the lawn. Your father is a person to me, Mr. Leeds. But to him, this is a prison, and I’m the warden, and he won’t rest until he escapes.

SON: (emotional) But... There has to be a way. Please... Just, let me talk to him, OK? Maybe I can— DOCTOR: Mr. Leeds. You know your father no longer recognizes you. He knows you as the man that keeps him here. I’m sorry to be blunt, but to him, if I’m the warden, you’re his arresting officer.

(Music. Darkness falls on all but TED.)

— 37 —

E S C A PA D E S SECOND DANCE MOVEMENT

ESCAPEES Time reverses. TED rises, moves from one chair to the next.

He stops at the chair his son was sitting in, runs his hand along the back. Something grabs his attention outside an unseen window.

TED leaps onto the chair, arms waving as if to frighten some­one or something away. Silent shouting, flashing of police car lights. DOCTOR and SON, now two police officers, rush in to coax TED down from his chair. TED steps down, stares out window as NURSE, now Ted’s DAUGHTER, Susan, argues with the officers.

Music out. Lights up.

DAUGHTER: Look, he’s obviously very upset. I’m just asking, are you SURE there was nobody out there?

OFFICER 1: I’m sure, Miss Leeds.

DAUGHTER: Susan.

OFFICER 1: Sorry. Susan. Look, ma’am—Susan... The pitch of that roof, there’s no way anybody could have stood out there the way he says. Not to mention how they’d get up there in the first place.

DAUGHTER: But, he swears he saw them. He wouldn’t lie.

OFFICER 2: Listen, I don’t want to worry you, lady, but, this ain’t the first time we’ve been out here.

DAUGHTER: What do you mean? They were here earlier, too?

OFFICER 2: You’re not gettin’ it, lady. Nobody was here. This is the fifth call we got from him in the last couple of weeks.

DAUGHTER: What the hell are you talking about?

— 38 —

E S C A PA D E S

OFFICER 1: Susan, your dad’s called 911 before, about people... on the roof, in the basement, in his car... We always check it out. We never find anything. I’m sorry, ma’am. I think your father’s...

DAUGHTER: Hey, my father’s not crazy! If he says there’s somebody on the roof, then there is!

TED: It’s alright, Carol. Go back to bed. I’ll catch them. I won’t let them escape next time.

(Pause.)

DAUGHTER: Dad, it’s me. It’s... It’s Susan.

TED: Oh, right. Sounded just like your mom. You should be in bed, Susie. Go on. Climb in with Mom. DAUGHTER: Dad, Mom’s... You know Mom’s gone.

(Man turns. Music. Spotlight.)

THIRD DANCE MOVEMENT

RACE THE TRAIN Other characters circle and exit, as TED moves backward toward bench. He sits, grasps a steering wheel. He is driving. Muted sounds of approaching freight train builds from music.

Time nearly stops. Bright light bears down on him as he sits, panicking, trying to open door. It is jammed. He throws his body against it. It flies open. He hurls himself out of the car, onto the ground. He rolls, screams, “NO!!!” Beautiful woman, now Carol, his WIFE, rushes slowly to him.

Music out. Light shifts. A bedroom. Night.

WIFE: Ted! Ted! Wake up, Ted! You’re dreaming! Wake up!

TED: Carol! Get out of the way! It’s coming!... It’s... I was...

— 39 —

E S C A PA D E S

WIFE: No. It’s nothing. It’s just one of your dreams.

TED: I’m not in bed... where am I? WIFE: You’re home, on the floor. You threw yourself out of bed.

TED: Oh, thank God! I’m alive. We’re alive.

WIFE: Of course you’re alive. You were just dreaming.

TED: Oh, it was so... Honest to God, Carol. I’ve never been so scared.

WIFE: What was it? What were you dreaming?

TED: Driving. In the Packard, driving home from work. Almost there, crossing the tracks, thinking what the hell it was I was supposed to bring... it stalled, on the tracks.

WIFE: The car?

TED: I tried everything... I couldn’t get her started again. Just cranked and cranked. I was just thinking what was I going to do— what I’d tell you if... and then the light... I saw that damn light.

WIFE: The light? You mean a train?

TED: Far off... I couldn’t... My mind was racing... You and the kids... stupid thoughts—driveway cracking, gutters full of leaves—no time! I pumped the gas, cranked the—she was flooded... Susie’s birthday coming up... Johnny’s baseball game... Light was getting bigger, brighter, and I knew...

I might... I tried to, you know, the door, but—jammed, wouldn’t budge. I was trapped. Light was blinding me...

There was something—milk! I forgot the milk... I could hear you—no—the whistle, wailing... Any second, for sure... I heard my name, heard you calling... and then the door...

I don’t know how, and I... and you... (realizing) I was here, and it was you... you woke me... Jesus, that was a bad one.

Oh, Carrie, I’m... I hate these dreams!

— 40 —

E S C A PA D E S

WIFE: Shhh... I hate them too. But you’re fine now. (Pause.) You were driving the Packard?

TED: Yeah.

WIFE: The Packard, not the Toyota?

TED: I... yeah, maybe the Toyota... No. No, it was definitely the Packard.

WIFE: Crazy. I haven’t thought about that car in years.

TED: I know. Crazy. Are you OK? I didn’t hurt you, when I jumped, did I? WIFE: No. Not like the boxing dream.

TED: I’m so sorry, Carrie. (He holds her, frightened, ashamed.)

WIFE: Don’t be silly. How can you help what you dream? Come on. Come back to bed.

TED: No, I can’t. I can’t sleep now. I think I’ll go for a walk.

WIFE: A walk? Ted, it’s past midnight. Come to bed. I’ll rub your head till you’re asleep.

TED: No. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Just a short walk.

WIFE: Well, wear your hat and coat. It’s cold out.

TED: I will. I love you, Carrie.

WIFE: I love you too. Don’t stay out too long.

TED: No. Just till I clear my head.

(She blows him a kiss. He catches it. Music. Spotlight.)

— 41 —

E S C A PA D E S F O U RTH D A N C E M O V E M E N T

ALMOST HOME TED heads for the darkened doorway. Home movies flicker on white walls. He is alone. His movement consists of the following, all done slowly: Steps toward door, stumbles, to the floor Tossed back into the car Tries to escape Crashes through the windshield Tumbles, stands up Climbs up on chair Screams and waves arms Looks out the window Climbs down Runs hand along back of chair Moves to other chair Sits Watches the flickering Rises. Pause Puts on coat and hat. Pause Light on in the doorway Sprints toward door Freeze (Blackout.)

End of play.

— 42 —

HELLA LOVE OAKLAND A Comic Play/Spoken Word Piece

By Robin Lynn Rodriguez

“Education is a natural process carried out by the child and is not acquired by listening to words but by experiences in the environment.”

—Maria Montessori

— 21 —

HELLA LOVE OAKLAND A Comic Play/Spoken Word Piece

By Robin Lynn Rodriguez HELLA LOVE OAKLAND was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on March 19, 2012. It was directed by Tracy Ward. The cast was as follows: Backpack Mom 1......................................Rebecca Pingree Backpack Mom 2......................................... Aneesh Sheth Backpack Mom 3....................................... Cindy Goldfield Actor 1 ...................................................... Ryan Martin Actor 2 ......................................................... Adam Roy HELLA LOVE OAKLAND was premiered by PlayGround at the 16th Annual Best of PlayGround (2012) festival on May 3, 2012. It was directed by Jon Tracy. The cast was as follows: Backpack Mom 1...................................... Maryssa Wanlass Backpack Mom 2........................................ Lauren English Backpack Mom 3............................................. Lisa Morse Robin Lynn Rodriguez is a member of the 2011–12 PlayGround Writers Pool, received an Emerging Playwright Award in 2012, and is a first-time participant in the Best of PlayGround festival.

She also was the recipient of PlayGround’s June Anne Baker Prize and is working on a commissioned play that will receive a staged reading in 2013. Her full-length play Hedge was a finalist for the Bay Area Playwrights Festival. She has recently begun writing for stage after being an actor and theater teacher.

— 22 —

HELLA LOVE OAKLAND A Comic Play/Spoken Word Piece

By Robin Lynn Rodriguez Note on style of both genres: The parts of this piece that are spoken word are done in that physical and vocal performance style with assonance and rhythms played for effect. The Mom scenes are done earnestly with self-deprecating humor. The Backpack Moms use sophisticated but ageappropriate “mom” voices, and almost clownlike ASL or suggestive gestures to indicate what they are talking about to their children. For example: croissants and pretzels can be traced in the air. An ASL “Q” stands for question. A gesture of looking with two fingers is used when talking about “observing.” Baby signs can be used for the baby.

Characters: Backpack Moms 1, 2, and 3, late 20s/30s, females of various ethnicities. The three are identified by their hip, pulledtogether looks, including baseball caps and small sling backpacks in coordinating colors.

Setting: The Farmer’s Market, Oakland Zoo, and Fairyland in Oakland, California.

(BACKPACK MOMS are center stage in a tableau. Perhaps we hear the sound of kids playing at a playground. BACKPACK MOM 3 squats and looks into a stroller at her baby. Breaking the tableau, the MOMS then step forward and rotate their caps to one side. Playground noises cease. The spoken word piece begins. This is done full throttle.)

BACKPACK MOM 1: Holla back.

BACKPACK MOMS 2 and 3: We love Oakland.

BACKPACK MOM 1: We hella love Oakland.

— 23 —

HELLA

LO VE

O AKLAND

BACKPACK MOM 3: I love Oakland like a prodigal child gone wild but still dear and near to my heart. Which means that as I say it, I must weigh what is also true, and that is the fact that I hate it too. A city of dichotomy, its soul you see, nestled between the hills and flats, is as full of art and love as ­ugliness and anger. A home that I feel nurtured in and also feel in danger. Oakland’s a place where not just race but p ­ overty and privilege meet and greet every day on the street. Forgive me as I live here, see, and not just ­co‑exist, seek not just tolerance, but real community.

Because ­immunity is not what I want from others, but with my sisters and my brothers, I want to fix or maybe not fix, but work toward repair in word and deed the damage done by greed that I have had my share in benefiting from. In Oakland we are together. People of different kind, and creed, and color, and need. All together, living life however we can.

And sometimes that is a very sweet thing. (Beat.) Represent.

(All three step back. They turn their caps forward again and now are in a scene at the farmers’ market. BACKPACK MOM 3 checks in with baby. They are waiting in line for Blue Bottle Coffee. As they talk, they move forward in the line.

BACKPACK MOMS 1 and 2 speak to their children who are offstage unseen.)

BACKPACK MOM 1: This line is offensively long.

BACKPACK MOM 3: It always moves faster than it looks. (To baby) Hello Tweedle Bug. Yes. There you are.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Do you see Jilly?

BACKPACK MOM 1: She was with Jack by the tree.

BACKPACK MOM 2: I don’t see her.

BACKPACK MOM 1: She was just there a minute ago.

BACKPACK MOM 3: The market’s really busy today.

BACKPACK MOM 1: It’s the nice weather.

BACKPACK MOM 2: I should probably go look for her.

— 24 —

HELLA

LO VE

O AKLA ND

BACKPACK MOM 1: Why don’t you? A latte, right?

BACKPACK MOM 2: I could just see her wandering off.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Wait— Is that her on the other side?

BACKPACK MOM 2: Yes. There she is— BACKPACK MOM 1: This place is so full of people.

BACKPACK MOM 3: And they move so fast.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Jilly? Stay with Jack. No. I want you to stay with Jack. I need you to stay where I can see you.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Jack. Sweetie? Do you want a pretzel ­croissant or a quiche? Quiche or croissant? Okay.

BACKPACK MOM 3: If you want to go ahead— BACKPACK MOM 1: He can wait five minutes.

BACKPACK MOM 2: The weather is gorgeous.

BACKPACK MOM 3: It finally feels like spring.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Jack? Do you notice how the leaves are ­coming in on the tree? Those are eucalyptus leaves. That’s a good observation sweetie. That’s a good question. Maybe we can investigate that later.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Jilly. Keep on this side. Make sure you can see my eyes. Yes, my eyes. You need to be able to see them.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Jack. Keep an eye on Jilly, okay? Make sure she doesn’t go off.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Thank you, Jack.

BACKPACK MOM 3: We’re getting close. (To baby) How’s my bug?

— 25 —

HELLA

LO VE

O AKLAND

BACKPACK MOM 2: Jilly? What is that woman asking you? (To BACKPACK MOM 1) She probably thinks she’s lost. What is she saying? She’s offering them something. Should I go over there? (Beat.)

BACKPACK MOM 1: Yes, you can have one of the nice lady’s strawberries. Thank you for checking in, Jack.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Absolutely. Strawberries are great. But please check in with me first. Okay? Did you say thank you?

BACKPACK MOMS 1 AND 2: (To woman off stage) Thank you!

BACKPACK MOM 3: People are so nice.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Those strawberries look amazing.

BACKPACK MOM 3: They’re nine bucks for a three-pack. Should we go in together?

BACKPACK MOM 1: Sounds like a plan.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Yay! We’re next.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Three lattes please. One skim. Two soy. Extra foam on one of the soys. Thanks.

(They wait for order, enjoying the time.)

BACKPACK MOM 3: This is the life.

(Stillness. BACKPACK MOMS step forward–center. Caps are turned simultaneously. Spoken word piece begins again.)

BACKPACK MOM 1: How much do you love Oakland?

BACKPACK MOMS 2 and 3: We hella love Oakland.

— 26 —

HELLA

LO VE

O AKLA ND

BACKPACK MOM 2: So I email back my mother and first tell her that I love her, and thank her for the offer. I have no—no— wish to scoff her desire to provide for a divide between our child and this city. But we’ve agreed that we don’t need your help sending our daughter to private school. Because we believe the best education we can provide her is not to hide her away from the real world. There are good schools in this city, with teachers who work hard in scarred neigh­borhoods.

But more than that, we believe that the best teacher to reach her will be the experience of difference she can have right here in Oakland that we can help her to interpret. And our hope is to open her eyes to see what lies outside her bubble of privilege, and the power she should leverage for both herself and others. Plus we know, no ­matter what the school test scores, she’s going to college. And that is one of a thousand lessons she can learn in this city.

BACKPACK MOM 3: Represent.

(BACKPACK MOMS turn caps and are now in a scene at Oakland Zoo. Leading the children, BACKPACK MOM 1 walks backward, leading students with a “quiet-coyote” sign as if in school. This sign is made by touching middle and ring fingers to the thumb of one hand.)

BACKPACK MOM 1: Quiet voices in this area.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Jill you heard that. Are you looking at the monkeys?

BACKPACK MOM 1: Siamangs.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Siamangs. Right.

BACKPACK MOM 3: They’re cute.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Jack, did you see that? What do you notice about their habitat? Can you write a couple of describing words about their habitat? I love that. Write that down. No write it down and show me.

— 27 —

HELLA

LO VE

O AKLAND

BACKPACK MOM 2: Jilly? Can you fill out your form like Jack’s doing so well? Are you done? I didn’t see you? Okay. You go and look at the macaws then. No. We don’t throw the paper on the ground. No Jilly. We don’t litter. Ever. Okay, Missy.

You’re going to pick that up when you are done looking at the macaws.

BACKPACK MOM 3: Do you see the siamangs? You see the ­siamangs over there sweetie? Look. Focus with your eyes.

BACKPACK MOM 1: So you’re going to put yourself in for the lotteries?

BACKPACK MOM 2: We’re going to at least see what our options are.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Charters are a legitimate option. We ­considered them. What school did you get assigned to?

BACKPACK MOM 2: Emerson.

BACKPACK MOM 1: That’s a decent one right?

BACKPACK MOM 2: Title One. BACKPACK MOM 3: Aren’t they all?

BACKPACK MOM 2: We’re considering it. We’re just not sure.

BACKPACK MOM 3: It’s a big decision.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Well we’re loving un-schooling. I think you should consider it. The light in Jack’s eyes when he dis­covers things. It’s like education is an adventure. It’s definitely been the right choice for us.

BACKPACK MOM 2: He’s really good at it.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Jilly might be too.

(They look at both kids and consider briefly.)

BACKPACK MOM 2: We’re probably going to go public or charter.

— 28 —

HELLA

LO VE

O AKLA ND

BACKPACK MOM 1: I wish nothing but the best for Oakland schools. But it wasn’t the right path for us.

BACKPACK MOM 2: We’re not decided. There are so many factors— BACKPACK MOM 3: You’ll figure it out. I really want a hot dog.

Oh. Look. The train is coming. Look, Bug. The train. Can you see it? The choo-choo train? Focus with your eyes.

(The three turn and wave as the train passes.)

BACKPACK MOM 3: (Turning back to kids) What are they playing with on the ground?

BACKPACK MOM 1: Oh God. I think it may be poop. Jack. No Jack. Good job not touching.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Jilly. No please—Oh God. Jill. Drop the poop.

You heard me. Drop it. Now missy.

(Stillness. BACKPACK MOMS move center. Stroller is gone and siamangs disappear. Simultaneously, caps are turned.

Spoken word piece begins.)

BACKPACK MOM 1: I look deep into my husband’s eyes, where I know lies his soul. And I say to him . . . Baby . . . Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise that we’re underwater on our mortgage. ’Cause it means or seems we cannot—will not—be tempted to flee this city. Because if I’m honest, I too sometimes want to move up the hill,just like Jack and like Jill. But just like them, I don’t belong there. I belong here, in the midst of it, being the grist which is separated from the chaff. I want to be a part of people making things, if also breaking things, because sometimes that’s part of the creative process too.

The tension in this city is, I believe at its heart, a creative one. And when all is said and done I am glad to contribute to it. And ameliorate a bit the hardship that so often inspires or ignites the fires that produce movements and music, and art so vibrant that the saturated colors look almost violent.

But they’re not. They’re just intense. It’s an intense city. But when you focus your eyes,it’s beautiful.

— 29 —

HELLA

LO VE

O AKLAND

BACKPACK MOM 3: Represent.

(BACKPACK MOMS turn caps and are now in a scene at Fairyland. They are watching a puppet show. The BACKPACK MOMS are enjoying the show and for a moment they only watch. They use slightly hushed tones.)

BACKPACK MOM 2: I love this one. I just love it.

BACKPACK MOM 3: I don’t know if we’ve seen this version.

BACKPACK MOM 1: He brings it to Fairyland in the Spring. We always come here to see it in the Spring.

BACKPACK MOM 3: I can see why. Since it’s all about birth.

BACKPACK MOM 1: And rebirth. When you think about it.

BACKPACK MOM 3: That’s deep. I like it.

BACKPACK MOM 2: It always makes me cry at the end.

BACKPACK MOM 3: It’s a good ending.

BACKPACK MOM 2: When the mommy swan comes.

BACKPACK MOM 3: And the ugly duckling sees her.

BACKPACK MOM 2: And realizes that he’s not an ugly duckling.

BACKPACK MOM 3: He’s a baby swan.

BACKPACK MOM 1: He just needed someone to tell him.

BACKPACK MOM 2: And they fly off together. Just wait till you see him make them fly. It’s amazing. Wait till you see the kids’ expressions when they see it.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Even when you can see the strings.

BACKPACK MOM 2: He makes it look like magic when they fly.

— 30 —

HELLA

LO VE

O AKLA ND

BACKPACK MOM 1: (Can’t help herself.) Jack. Can you see how he’s using the strings? That’s called a marionette. Jack? Do you see— BACKPACK MOMS 2 and 3: SSHHHHH. (BACKPACK MOM 1 is silenced for a moment. They watch.)

BACKPACK MOM 3: Maybe after this we can send them into the hedge maze with the magic key and grab some cotton candy for ourselves.

BACKPACK MOM 2: Sounds good to me.

BACKPACK MOM 1: I love Fairyland.

BACKPACK MOM 2: It’s one of the best things about Oakland.

BACKPACK MOM 3: I love Oakland.

BACKPACK MOM 1: Holla back blood.

(BACKPACK MOMS still in scene, all turn caps, continuing to watch children at play.)

End of play.

— 31 —

SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE

By Amy Sass

— 25 —

SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE

By Amy Sass SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on November 19, 2012. It was directed by Molly Noble. The cast was as follows: Docent 1................................................... David Cramer Docent 2.................................................. JoAnne Winter SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE was premiered by PlayGround at the 17th Annual Best of Play­Ground (2013) festival on May 9, 2013. It was directed by Steven Anthony Jones. The cast was as follows: Docent 1................................................... Dodds Delzell Docent 2................................................... Anne Darragh Amy Sass is Co-founder and Artistic Director of Ragged Wing Ensemble. As playwright, director, actor, choreographer, and visual artist, Amy’s creative vision sits firmly at the crossroads of artistic disciplines. A member of PlayGround, Amy has won the People’s Choice Award twice for her short plays Significant People and Structural Instability, and is the recipient of the 2013 June Anne Baker Prize and commission. Ragged Wing Ensemble credits include: Maybe Baby (Writer, Director), OPEN. (Writer, Director), Handless (Writer, Director), and So Many Ways To Kill A Man (Writer, Clytaemnestra).

— 26 —

SIGNIFICANT PEOPLE

By Amy Sass Characters: Docent 1, male, 60s Docent 2, female, 60s Setting: We begin with a blank stage. It is an historic site of cultural significance. The house of a notable couple. As the characters tour the house, the scenic objects and rooms mentioned in the text are left to the imagination. The only room to appear in tangible form is The Study.

(As the play opens, the DOCENTS stand addressing the audience. They wear tags that read: docent. A tour is about to begin.)

DOCENT 1: Certain people are important.

DOCENT 2: More important than others.

DOCENT 1: This is because they contributed. They put us on the map.

DOCENT 2: By us, we mean: Americans. They put Americans on the map.

DOCENT 1: They made strides in one direction or another.

DOCENT 2: They were known.

DOCENT 1: Known for their contributions, their works of outstanding creative or cultural genius. They were significant.

DOCENT 2: Well, he was significant. She wasn’t quite as significant.

DOCENT 1: She was significant.

DOCENT 2: Not really.

— 27 —

SI G NI F I C ANT

PEO PLE

DOCENT 1: She was significant to him.

DOCENT 2: Not the same.

DOCENT 1: Does it matter?

DOCENT 2: Depends on whom you ask.

DOCENT 1: Ok, she was somewhat significant.

DOCENT 2: Maybe. But she was certainly not historic.

(Pause. She remembers the audience. Smiles.)

DOCENT 2 (contd): He was famous.

DOCENT 1: He didn’t start famous.

DOCENT 2: He won awards.

DOCENT 1: He became famous.

DOCENT 2: Famous people thought he was famous.

DOCENT 1: He was only famous to some.

DOCENT 2: He was trendy-famous. Tortured-famous. Remove yourself from the world famous. Drink yourself into oblivion famous.

(Pause.)

DOCENT 1: Well.

DOCENT 2: Well.

(Big smiles.)

DOCENT 1: In any case, here we are! Thank you for your interest in this historic site of significant persons.

DOCENT 2: Person.

— 28 —

SI G NI F I C ANT

PEO P LE

DOCENT 1: People.

(They smile big.)

DOCENT 2: A few rules: No food. No drink.

DOCENT 1: No touching, littering, vomiting.

DOCENT 2: No dogs, cats, turtles or hamsters.

DOCENT 1: No children.

DOCENT 2: No gum.

(Pause.)

DOCENT 2 (contd): Now, then! The house is large.

DOCENT 1: Meandering.

DOCENT 2: It’s easy to get lost.

DOCENT 1: So stay together!

DOCENT 2: Follow along!

DOCENT 1: Don’t trip!

DOCENT 2: Does everyone have a buddy? (Beat.) First stop: the breakfast nook! Overlooking the pool house. The gardens.

The orchard. Here is where she brought his meals.

DOCENT 1: Toast and jam.

DOCENT 2: Biscuits and butter. Here is where they shared afternoon tea.

DOCENT 1: Cream and sugar. Two lumps for him.

DOCENT 2: One for her.

DOCENT 2: And look, French doors! Opening out onto . . . the veranda.

— 29 —

SI G NI F I C ANT

PEO PLE

DOCENT 1: Where he wrote his essays.

DOCENT 2: Where they sipped wine.

(Beat.)

DOCENT 2 (contd): This way.

DOCENT 1: Don’t get lost.

DOCENT 2: This is the parlor. Where they entertained.

DOCENT 1: Important guests.

DOCENT 2: Some more important than others. All of them glamorous.

DOCENT 1: All of them dead.

DOCENT 2: All of them significant.

(Beat.)

DOCENT 1: Up the stairs . . . down the hall. Bedrooms. Hers . . .

DOCENT 2: And His. They had separate bedrooms then. That was how it was. Each with adjoining bathrooms.

DOCENT 1: Hers painted a noxious tangerine.

DOCENT 2: His a depressing fog grey. Here is where he showered, shaved, brushed his teeth.

DOCENT 1: She curled her hair, put on her face.

DOCENT 2: His dresser.

DOCENT 1: Her vanity.

DOCENT 2: See this picture? Third from the left.

DOCENT 1: His grey suit!

— 30 —

SI G NI F I C ANT

PEO P LE

DOCENT 2: Her tangerine dress.

DOCENT 1: They met at a dance.

DOCENT 2: They didn’t like each other at first.

DOCENT 1: They didn’t like each other. But they were attracted.

DOCENT 2: Opposites . . . you know?

DOCENT 1: At least they could agree on that.

DOCENT 2: For a time. (Beat.) She started buying him ties.

DOCENT 1: Is that significant?

DOCENT 2: It was a turning point. She began with ties, hats, driving gloves, then moved on to socks, cufflinks, hand­ker­ chiefs. A few months in, she graduated to underwear.

DOCENT 1: Monogrammed underwear.

DOCENT 2: You can track their intimacy by the clothing receipts.

She took over his wardrobe.

DOCENT 1: She took over his life.

(Beat.)

DOCENT 1 (contd): From this window you can see the guesthouse. Sometimes, he would hole up there.

DOCENT 2: He wasn’t always alone. (Beat.) It was to be expected, of course. He was famous. Important.

DOCENT 1: Aging. (Pause.) The occasional . . .

DOCENT 2: Woman. He tried to pass her off as a client. A cousin.

His charity case.

DOCENT 1: She knew better.

DOCENT 2: They didn’t discuss it.

— 31 —

SI G NI F I C ANT

PEO PLE

(Beat.)

DOCENT 2 (contd): Ah. The storage closet!

DOCENT 1: Here is his suitcase. Packed with guilt.

DOCENT 2: Here is her designer trunk. She used it for hats. And gloves.

DOCENT 1: And resentment. (Pause.) She chose him so she could tidy him up.

DOCENT 2: He aged.

DOCENT 1: She aged.

DOCENT 2: She forgot why she chose him.

DOCENT 1: It didn’t matter. They were . . .

DOCENT 2: They mostly were . . .

DOCENT 1: Good for each other.

DOCENT 2: And finally. the place where it all happened. The outstanding works of creative genius! The cultural significance!

(Lights illuminate the study. It is the quintessential study.

Significant and melancholic. The desk and chair. A wardrobe upstage.)

(Pause.)

DOCENT 1: This is The Study. This is where he . . .

DOCENT 2: It’s where he . . .

(They look at each other, holding the gaze. DOCENT 1 slowly begins to fade away. DOCENT 2 speaks quickly, a rising dread, as she watches her husband fade into shadow.)

DOCENT 2 (contd): This is the original desk. These are the awards he won. His shot glass collection. His stash of bourbon. His paperweight.

— 32 —

SI G NI F I C ANT

PEO P LE

(Pause. He stands frozen in a half-light downstage.)

DOCENT 2 (contd): When he was gone . . . it was like he was still around. Here, in the ring from his coffee cup. The smell of cigars.

(She moves out of the room, downstage, to stand opposite him. The study has gone dark. He is only a shadow now, fading slowly to black.)

DOCENT 2 (contd): She left the room and closed the door. A year passed. Two years. Five. Then, one day . . . she rises early . . .

(Lights illuminate study in an early morning glow. She pauses, takes in the room, then goes to the wardrobe and opens it.

A man’s grey suit is revealed. She puts on his trousers.

Slides on his jacket. His tie, his hat, his shoes. She opens the top desk drawer, takes out a cigar. Lights it and takes a pull. She scrounges around the drawer until she finds his whisky. She opens it, swigs, adjusts her hat, swaggers back to the wardrobe. A tangerine dress is revealed. She reaches in slowly and takes it out.)

(Music begins. A slow nostalgic song from a bygone era. She holds the garment tenderly and begins a sweet slow dance.

She plays the part of her husband as she dances, holding the dress, an embodiment of her former self. The music blooms and expands. As it comes to a close, she gently places the dress on the chair. She pauses a moment, then takes off his hat. She places it on the dress, arranging the sleeves to hold the hat. A quiet half-glow illuminates DOCENT 1.)

DOCENT 1: She was found this way a few days later. His hat in her hands.

(Pause.)

DOCENT 2: He was an important man. Significant.

DOCENT 1: He had his flaws. He did things he . . . shouldn’t have done.

DOCENT 2: Even so, she still managed to . . .

— 33 —

SI G NI F I C ANT

PEO PLE

DOCENT 1: Did she?

DOCENT 2: Didn’t she?

DOCENT 1: Even after he . . . ?

DOCENT 2: Even after.

DOCENT 1: She was significant.

DOCENT 2: Only in relation to him.

DOCENT 1: No. She was more important than she knew.

(He touches her cheek. Lights fade to black.)

End of play.

— 34 —

WHEN YOU TALK ABOUT THIS

By Patricia Cotter

— 69 —

WHEN YOU TALK ABOUT THIS

By Patricia Cotter WHEN YOU TALK ABOUT THIS was originally developed by Play­ Ground (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on February 17, 2014. It was directed by Virginia Reed. The cast was as follows: William..................................................... Aaron Wilton Nina............................................................Carrie Paff WHEN YOU TALK ABOUT THIS was premiered by PlayGround at the 18th Annual Best of Play­Ground (2014) festival on May 8, 2014. It was directed by Tracy Ward. The cast was as follows: William......................................................... Adam Roy Nina............................................................ Stacy Ross Emmy Award-winning, Groundling Theater alum Patricia Cotter has received a Richard Rodgers Award for musical theater, Ovation Award, and Garland Award. Plays include Rules of Comedy (Actors Theatre of Louisville’s Evening of Ten-Minute Plays, Heideman Award finalist); The Break Up Notebook featuring Jane Lynch (GLAAD Award nominee); Three; Best/ Worst (Apartment A Theatre Company). Patricia co-wrote the cabaret show Beth Malone . . . So Far (Joe’s Pub and The Triad, NYC). Musicals (librettist/adaptation) include Rocket Science: A Musical (music by Stephen A. Weiner, lyrics by Jason Rhyne) and The Break Up Notebook: A Musical, (based on her play, music and lyrics by Lori Scarlett). She adapted Mulan Jr for Disney Theatrical and is developing Ladykillers with Lori Scarlett.

Patricia is the recipient of the 2014 June Anne Baker Prize and is under commission from PlayGround to write and develop a new full-length play over the next year.

— 70 —

WHEN YOU TALK ABOUT THIS

By Patricia Cotter Characters: Nina, female, 40s, college Statistics professor, attractive, self‑possessed, powerful, a fantastic teacher, very prac­ tical. Never has stepped over the line with a student until this day.

William, male, early 20s, open, sincere, passionate about life, a good student, no real interest or aptitude for math.

(Professor Nina Jacbobson-Cray’s office at Boston University or any large, east coast-type, urban university. WILLIAM and NINA make out on her desk. The fact that they are kissing is a pretty big surprise to both of them.)

WILLIAM: . . . This is . . . wow . . . this is . . . great. (They kiss some more.)

NINA: You locked the door?

WILLIAM: Yeah. (They kiss more.) I think.

NINA: You think? Or you know?

WILLIAM: I am ninety-nine percent sure.

(NINA goes to check the door.)

NINA: Since ninety-nine percent is not one hundred percent . . .

(She checks, it’s locked. She goes back to kissing WILLIAM.) WILLIAM: This is awesome. I mean . . . come on . . . this is the best Statistics class ever.

NINA: Thank you . . . feel free to include that in your class evaluation. (Beat.) Not really.

WILLIAM: Professor Jacobson-Cray—

— 71 —

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NINA: —How about just . . . call me Nina.

WILLIAM: Yeah, cool. I’d love to call you Nina. Nina . . . you’re a really, really good kisser.

NINA: Thanks.

WILLIAM: And . . . a great Statistics professor. I thought I would hate Statistics, since I don’t really like any kind of math or numbers thing, but when I came into class and I saw you I thought: “Hey, this might not be the worst thing in the world.” At least my prof is hot. Like really, really incredibly hot and not just for a professor but for, like, a woman . . .

NINA: Maybe, let’s just . . . not talk so much.

WILLIAM: Right.

(They kiss. NINA is distracted. He notices.)

WILLIAM: Do you want some music? (Pulls out his phone.) Here pick a station. Whatever you want.

(She scrolls through his stations. She holds the phone out so that she can see it better.)

NINA: Okay. I don’t know any of these people.

WILLIAM: Really? That’s funny. How about . . .

(He randomly hits a station. Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” begins.

They make out, but after a few beats NINA can’t stop herself from laughing.)

NINA: Sorry. Sorry. That just reminds me of Stephen Colbert.

WILLIAM: Okay.

NINA: You know . . . when he did that whole thing with that song?

WILLIAM: I don’t watch TV, but you know . . . I don’t mind if you do.

— 72 —

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NINA: I don’t really care whether you mind or not.

WILLIAM: Oh, okay.

(WILLIAM turns off the music.)

NINA: Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a complete bitch. For the record. I don’t watch a ton of TV. You know, just The Daily Show, The Colbert Report . . . okay, sometimes . . .

Nashville . . .

WILLIAM: Sure. My mo— my . . . Lots of people watch television. I have no judgment.

(He goes to kiss her but stops.)

WILLIAM: Hey, what made you decide to do this?

NINA: Does it matter? Do you need a reason?

WILLIAM: No, not really. I was just curious. You never seemed to notice me that much until today, that’s all. And then this—which is an awesome surprise. One of those things that would make me reconsider suicide—not that I’m suicidal— I’m not—at all. I’m just not wired that way, but if I were . . . this is the kind of stuff that makes you fall in love with life, you know? The beautifully unexpected.

NINA: The thing is William— Can I call you Bill?

WILLIAM: You could . . . but everybody else calls me William.

NINA: Really? Not even, like, Will?

WILLIAM: Nope. But as I said, I am not opposed to any nickname that you would want to give me.

(He goes to kiss her again, but for her the moment has passed.)

NINA: Here’s the thing, William . . . This was a terrible idea. I’m sorry. I’m up for tenure and—

— 73 —

W H E N

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THIS

WILLIAM: —What? Are you afraid that I’m going to report you or something? Don’t worry about that—the door’s locked, it’s almost five-thirty. We are so fine, and . . . for the record? I don’t really care what made you decide to do this. It doesn’t matter.

NINA: But it does matter. The thing is—I needed to talk to you because . . . you failed. You failed the final.

WILLIAM: What?

NINA: I’m so sorry, but you got a sixty-eight. That’s why I asked you to stay. You’re a Senior so I know that this might have, this will have, repercussions for you.

WILLIAM: I don’t believe this.

NINA: The good news is that we are offering the same class this summer with Professor Bhatnagar, who is fantastic by the way, and you might respond to him better.

WILLIAM: But I respond to you . . . great.

NINA: (Hands him the paper.) It’s a D . . . plus.

WILLIAM: Shit.

NINA: I know. I’m sorry.

WILLIAM: I mean, I knew that I didn’t do well, but I thought I would at least pass. I hate math. I really do.

NINA: Well, it’s you know, it’s officially, Statistics, but— WILLIAM: It’s still math. I can’t take this class again—I just can’t.

NINA: Listen, I understand it’s not— WILLIAM: —This class has nothing to do with what I want to do with my life. It’s archaic that they still even make us take any kind of math—that’s why I waited until Senior year.

— 74 —

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NINA: I would venture to say that you’re not overly talented in the realm of any mathematics, but it doesn’t mean you couldn’t have studied harder and potentially pulled this off.

Maybe got some tutoring? It’s a requirement—the school likes to make sure that they are graduating well-rounded individuals.

WILLIAM: I’m an English major. Tell me how I’ll use this?

NINA: Oh, God. English majors . . .

WILLIAM: What?

NINA: Never mind. Statistics are used in all aspects of life: determining election results; predicting the weather forecast; deciding whether or not you should mate with the potential mother of your children— WILLIAM: —I vote for who I believe in, I have no control over the rest; I look out the window to figure out the weather; and when I meet the woman I’m meant to have kids with—I know that I will just feel it. And I won’t use the term “mate.”

That’s just . . . weird.

NINA: Okay, fine. Well, then good for you. What do you want to do with your degree?

WILLIAM: I’m going to be a poet.

NINA: (Beat.) Good luck with that.

WILLIAM: Okay. I hate when people say that. I know what people mean when they say that. They mean “you’re going to fail.”

NINA: Statistically . . .

WILLIAM: Clearly, I know jack shit about statistics.

NINA: My goal is not to squelch your dream. Or anybody’s dream.

The thing is, I am a very, very practical person. That’s all. I hope you become a wildly successful poet. I do. But statistically speaking . . . who makes a living as a poet?

— 75 —

W H E N

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WILLIAM: Lots of people have made their living as a poet.

NINA: Name two.

WILLIAM: Pablo Neruda, Maya Angelou.

NINA: Oh, boy. You’re right, but . . . they are very famous—­ incredibly famous—I mean, what are the odds?

WILLIAM: I don’t care about odds. You have a hyphen. Are you married?

NINA: Yes. I am. I am married.

WILLIAM: Then why did you kiss me?

NINA: I don’t know. I don’t have a good answer for that—the thing is—I kind of had the realization that life?—life is finite.

I know that means nothing to you.

WILLIAM: I know what finite means.

NINA: No, no . . . you think you know what it means, but you don’t.

WILLIAM: I do.

NINA: How old are you?

WILLIAM: I’m twenty-one.

NINA: I’m forty-three—and the countdown has already started.

I can see the finish line. And William, I’ve been married for thirteen years. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have sex with the same person for over thirteen years?

WILLIAM: No. No, I do not.

NINA: It’s pretty boring. It can be intimate . . . it can be really good . . . it’s usually satisfying—everybody has the lay of the land . . . so to speak. It can still surprise you every once in a while—but all in all, it’s pretty fucking boring.

— 76 —

W HEN

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WILLIAM: So? That’s what this was about . . . you’re bored?

NINA: No. I’m . . . I’m . . . A friend . . . not even a good friend . . . like a secondary friend, dropped dead. I’m not even exagger­ ating, just dropped dead walking down Newbury Street.

She’d just bought these really expensive boots, at this shop that I only went into once and just left—because I thought “Oh, this is why everybody in the entire world hates us, because some of us can buy thirteen-hundred-dollar casual kick-around boots—Anyway, her heart just stopped. The end.

She was my age. Exactly. So . . . I felt the need . . . the deep need to kiss somebody young. Apparently I am a succubus, William . . . and I apologize for that. (Hands him the paper.)

And for this. I’m sorry you flunked.

WILLIAM: I can’t take this class again. I did study. I tried really hard and this was the best I could do.

NINA: That’s the beauty and the bummer of mathematics, it doesn’t matter how hard you try, there are always going to be very specific answers.

WILLIAM: How about . . . how about you pass me because we kissed?

NINA: No. I’m sorry I can’t do that. I can’t pass you just because I enjoyed kissing you. You didn’t get the answers right. It all has to add up. It just does.

WILLIAM: Okay. Okay.

(NINA sits.)

NINA: So. Is this the part where you threaten to tell the dean . . . or my husband?

WILLIAM: I guess that would be the practical thing to do.

NINA: Yes, it would.

WILLIAM: But I believe we’ve established that I am not a practical person.

— 77 —

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(WILLIAM takes a seat beside NINA. They sit for a moment in silence.)

WILLIAM: Out of all the things in the world, why did you choose math?

NINA: Because I like answers. Why’d you choose poetry?

WILLIAM: Because I like questions. I think I’m gonna go.

NINA: Okay. Okay. I understand.

WILLIAM: Professor Bhatnagar?

NINA: Yes. (He puts his books in his backpack.)

NINA: Is this class the only thing preventing you from graduating?

WILLIAM: Yeah. Just this . . . two points. I already bought a Eurail pass.

(He gives her a kiss—it’s different now. He begins to leave.

NINA watches him.)

NINA: Oh, man. Fine. Fine. Let’s call it clerical error—I will round it up to a seventy. I’ll adjust it. Check in with the Registrar to make sure it gets changed on your record.

WILLIAM: Are you serious?

NINA: Yes. It’s just two percentage points.

WILLIAM: But those two percentage points make such a huge difference.

NINA: And that, William, is the point of mathematics.

WILLIAM: You are a good teacher. Thank you.

— 78 —

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NINA: When you talk about this, and you will . . . be sure not to use my real name. I mean, how many Jacobson-Crays could there be in the Boston area?

WILLIAM: No problem. Poetic license.

NINA: It works for poets and mathematicians.

(WILLIAM leaves. NINA’s phone vibrates. She looks at the number, pauses, then picks it up.)

NINA: Hi, Honey. (Beat.) I’m fine. Just got a little distracted with a student, but . . . I’m on my way home.

(She hangs up, picks up WILLIAM’s folder, and closes it.)

End of play.

— 79 —

READING BABAR IN 2070

By Rachel Bublitz

— 51 —

READING BABAR IN 2070

By Rachel Bublitz READING BABAR IN 2070 was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in collabortaion with the Planet Earth New Play Festival at Berkeley Repertory Theatre and Stanford University on October 20 and 21, 2014. It was directed by Michael French. The cast was as follows: Berkeley Repertory Theatre, October 20, 2014 Susan ...................................................... Danielle Thys Michael ................................................. Aldo Billingslea Tina ................................................... Millie DeBenedet Stanford University, October 21, 2014 Susan ...................................................... Danielle Thys Michael .................................................Michael Asberry Tina ................................................... Millie DeBenedet READING BABAR IN 2070 was premiered by PlayGround at the 19th Annual Best of PlayGround (2015) festival on May 7, 2015. It was directed by Rebecca Ennals. The cast was as follows: Lucia ................................................Stephanie Prentice Michael .........................................Michael Barrett Austin Tina ................................................... Millie DeBenedet Rachel Bublitz founded the 31 Plays in 31 Days Project, the Loud & Unladylike reading festival, and has been a member of the PlayGround Writers Pool since 2013. In 2015 she was awarded the June Anne Baker Prize and an Emerging Playwright Award from PlayGround. Her plays have been produced by San Jose Rep’s Emerging Artist Lab (SJReal), Wily West Productions, Playwrights Foundation, San Francisco Theater Pub, PianoFight, and many others companies. Rachel has been commissioned by both Custom Made Theatre Company and the San Francisco Olympians Festival. When she isn’t writing, Rachel is chasing after her two Viking-like children. RachelBublitz.com.

— 52 —

READING BABAR IN 2070

By Rachel Bublitz Characters: Lucia, female, 30 to 40, Latina, eight months pregnant Michael, male, 30 to 40, Caucasian, Lucia’s husband Tina, female, 5, biracial, Lucia and Michael’s daughter, a passionate little girl Setting: A living room.

Time and place: 2070, America.

(LUCIA is sleeping on a sofa. MICHAEL and TINA enter.

MICHAEL carries a bag of groceries. TINA carries a book.

TINA skips over to LUCIA.) MICHAEL: Let’s let Momma sleep, Teeny.

(TINA nods, then holds her fingers to her lips.)

TINA: Shhhhhh!

MICHAEL: Exactly. Want to help me put away the groceries?

TINA: Nope!

MICHAEL: Okay, why don’t you go play in your room? I’ll read to you when I’m done.

(MICHAEL exits with the groceries. TINA tiptoes over to LUCIA, unable to repress a grin. TINA picks up LUCIA’s hand, then lets it go, watching it fall. TINA does this a few times, then moves on to messing around with LUCIA’s face.)

LUCIA: (Groggy.) ¡Basta!

TINA: Quiet Mommy, you’re supposed to take a nap!

(LUCIA sits up.)

LUCIA: Not any more.

— 53 —

READ I NG

BAB AR

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2070

(MICHAEL enters.)

MICHAEL: I told you to let her sleep.

TINA: I didn’t do anything.

MICHAEL: (To LUCIA.) Sorry, Babe. Why don’t you go lie down in the bedroom?

(TINA grabs the book.)

LUCIA: It’s too hard for me to get out of our bed.

TINA: (Shoving the book in LUCIA’s face.) We went to the LIBRARY! MICHAEL: And she only disturbed half the other people there.

LUCIA: Oh man, Tina, you’re losing your touch.

TINA: There were lots of books, and I found one that was all about elephants! And what they eat and how they take baths! Elephant poop is HUGE! LUCIA: Good to know.

TINA: And there was another one about elephants, except this one was about a elephant KING! Will you read to me?

LUCIA: Sure. (Looking at the book, to MICHAEL.) Babar? Are you serious?

TINA: Babar is the king. He’s the KING of all the elephants! READ! LUCIA: Why would you let her check this out?

MICHAEL: What’s wrong with Babar?

LUCIA: Are you kidding? It’s all about white people “teaching” Africans how to be civilized so that they can be saved from their savage ways! Making Babar wear clothes, having all the other elephants build “suitable houses.”

MICHAEL: Come on.

— 54 —

READI NG

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LUCIA: Babar wanders away from his herd, and is taught how a “proper man” acts in the city from some old white lady. It’s just the West glorifying the destruction of tribal life! As if everyone else was living in hell because they didn’t go to the ballet or have tea parties.

TINA: (Holding the book up to LUCIA.) No, no Mommy, look! It’s just about elephants.

LUCIA: They make you think it’s about elephants, Tina, but it’s really about people. It’s a metaphor.

(TINA exits at a run.)

MICHAEL: I loved Babar when I was a kid.

LUCIA: And I loved it too until I was old enough to understand how awful and offensive it actually is.

MICHAEL: It’s a kid’s book.

LUCIA: It’s more than that though! And, it’s important for us to be honest and up front about this stuff with her. About everything! It’s a confusing place out there. If we don’t give her a road map, who will?

MICHAEL: She’s five.

LUCIA: Exactly!

(TINA enters carrying a stuffed elephant, and sits down on the sofa next to LUCIA.) TINA: See Mommy? Babar and Millie look the same. That’s because they’re both elephants! So Babar is just about elephants.

Really.

MICHAEL: See Mommy?

LUCIA: Okay, fine. I can see I’m not going to win this one. Scoot closer Teeny, and I’ll read you your imperialist propaganda now.

— 55 —

READ I NG

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TINA: HOORAY! (TINA cuddles next to LUCIA, still holding her stuffed elephant close.)

TINA (contd): I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE elephants!

LUCIA: I know.

TINA: They’re my favorite. My next favorite animal is sharks, but I only really like sharks, I don’t looooove sharks, so elephants are definitely my favorite.

LUCIA: Okay, good to know. Want me to read now?

TINA: Yes! LUCIA: The Story of Babar, The Little Elephan, by Jean de Brunhoff . . . (To MICHAEL.) Wonder what Jean looks like?

(MICHAEL shakes his head. LUCIA turns the page.)

LUCIA: (Reading.) “In the great forest—” TINA: There are TWO kinds of elephants. Some have small ears, and some have big ears. Babar has big ears, because he’s from Africa! Millie’s from Africa too.

LUCIA: Yep, you’re absolutely right. (Reading.) “In the great forest—” TINA: I’m going to live with elephants one day. I’m gonna move to Africa, and camp with them, and I’ll help them find their food, and they’ll let me ride them all over the place.

LUCIA: That’s a great idea. (Reading.) “In the—” MICHAEL: Hold on . . . Tina, you can’t go live with the elephants in Africa.

TINA: Yes I can, Mommy says so!

MICHAEL: Lucia, have you not told her?

— 56 —

READI NG

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LUCIA: Elephants are her favorite.

TINA: My number one, absolute favorite.

MICHAEL: So French Imperialism, that happened hundreds of years ago, she has to understand, but you keep what happened to elephants from her?

LUCIA: She’s just a little girl.

MICHAEL: What about honesty, and preparing her for the world, and all that?

LUCIA: This is different.

MICHAEL: You’re a hypocrite. (To TINA.) Honey . . . You can’t go live with the elephants in Africa because there aren’t any elephants left there.

TINA: No, that’s where they live. It’s in a book.

MICHAEL: They used to, a long time ago, but now . . . They’re extinct now, Tina.

TINA: Extinct?

MICHAEL: It means there aren’t any more. They’re dead.

TINA: No. You’re wrong. We went to San Diego like one or five months ago, and we SAW elephants!

MICHAEL: There are a few left in captivity, but there aren’t any left in the wild.

TINA: . . . I think you’re lying to me.

MICHAEL: (To LUCIA.) Can you jump in and help me on this?

LUCIA: Niña, Daddy is telling the truth. It happened a long time ago, before you were born. I’m sorry, but, almost all of the elephants are gone.

TINA: But . . . But . . . But where did they go?

— 57 —

READ I NG

BAB AR

I N

2070

LUCIA: Well, people took a lot of the land that they used to live on.

MICHAEL: And other people killed them for their tusks. That’s their giant front teeth.

TINA: I KNOW what tusks are.

MICHAEL: They couldn’t survive with the people hunting them so much, and there wasn’t land left for them to hide on, and so . . . And so now there’s none left . . .

TINA: No. It’s not true. Nope.

LUCIA: I should have told you, I . . . You just love elephants so much, it didn’t seem fair to you to take them away.

(LUCIA tries to rub TINA’s back. TINA pushes her hand away.)

TINA: Where were you when they all went away?

LUCIA: I was . . . I think the last known wild elephant was spotted when I was still in college.

TINA: Did you try your hardest to help them?

LUCIA: Um . . . No, I, I guess I didn’t.

TINA: But why didn’t you help the elephants? Why didn’t you save them?

LUCIA: I don’t know what we could have done.

MICHAEL: A lot of really smart people tried to save them, but it was just too late.

TINA: Other people tried, but you didn’t try at all?

MICHAEL: No. We didn’t.

TINA: I hate you. I HATE YOU BOTH! LUCIA: Tina.

— 58 —

READI NG

B AB AR

I N

2070

(TINA starts kicking and pushing everything in her vicinity.)

TINA: YOU SHOULDA DONE SOMETHING! IT’S NOT FAIR! THEY’RE MY FAVORITE! MY FAVORITE! (LUCIA tries to stop TINA’s trashing, and gets pushed down.

MICHAEL steps in and picks TINA up.)

MICHAEL: Okay, that’s enough now.

TINA: NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! MICHAEL: You can’t hurt Mommy. That’s not okay.

TINA: MOMMY LET THE ELEPHANTS DIE! THAT’S NOT OKAY! THAT’S NOT OKAY!!!!

MICHAEL: We can talk after you’ve calmed down.

(MICHAEL heads with TINA to exit. TINA stops fighting and starts to sob, they exit. LUCIA gets up, slowly. It’s hard for her. LUCIA tries to put the room back in order, but it involves too much bending over. LUCIA sits on the sofa, puts her head in her hands, and cries. MICHAEL enters.)

MICHAEL: You okay?

(LUCIA nods. MICHAEL puts the room back in order.)

LUCIA: I should have told her. I’m honest about every stupid little thing. I even told her Santa wasn’t real. I just . . .

(MICHAEL sits with LUCIA.) MICHAEL: You wanted her to have this, I get that.

LUCIA: I never should have lied. She hates me now.

MICHAEL: She doesn’t hate you.

LUCIA: . . . But I didn’t try to save the elephants.

MICHAEL: Neither did I.

— 59 —

READ I NG

BAB AR

I N

2070

LUCIA: I might have given to a charity once, but . . .

MICHAEL: What more could you have done?

LUCIA: . . . I don’t know.

MICHAEL: Don’t worry about it. It’s not good for you or the baby . . . We can’t change the past.

LUCIA: Yeah. You’re right. Nothing we can do now.

MICHAEL: . . . I’m making pasta for dinner.

LUCIA: Sounds good. Need a hand?

MICHAEL: No, you should take it easy, I got it.

(MICHAEL kisses LUCIA’s head then exits. LUCIA picks up the stuffed elephant and holds it.)

End of play.

— 60 —

OPHY’S APOTHECARY

By Karen Macklin

— 43 —

OPHY’S APOTHECARY

By Karen Macklin OPHY’S APOTHECARY was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley ­Rep­ er­tory Theatre on March 21, 2016. It was directed by Margo Hall.

The cast was as follows: Anna........................................................... Stacy Ross Ophy.....................................................Martha Brigham Boy........................................................ Jomar Tagatac OPHY’S APOTHECARY was premiered by PlayGround at the 20th Annual Best of Play­Ground (2016) festival on June 2, 2016. It was directed by Reena Dutt. The cast was as follows: Anna.................................................Stephanie Prentice Ophy................................................... Rinabeth Apostol Boy........................................................ Michael Phillis Karen Macklin’s plays have been staged in readings and productions in San Francisco, New York, and Seattle with companies such as Actors Theater SF, PlayGround, SF Playhouse, and Nylon Fusion Theatre. She has an MFA in Creative Writing, and has been a finalist for the Kennedy Center ACTF, Humana Festival, and Bay Area Playwrights Festival. She was also the recipient of the 2016 June Anne Baker Prize.

— 44 —

OPHY’S APOTHECARY

By Karen Macklin Characters: Ophy, female, confused young woman, 18 to 20-ish Anna, female, life coach, 40s to 50s-ish Boy, male, Ophy’s boyfriend, rich and brooding, 18 to 20-ish Note: The play takes place outside of any particular time and space.

SCENE 1 (Two chairs, stage left, facing each other. It is ANNA’s office.

She is looking over some papers, awaiting her next client.

OPHY enters, dressed in casual, young, unsophisticated clothing.)

ANNA: Welcome. Sit down, please.

OPHY: Hello, Anna. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.

ANNA: Of course. How can I help you?

OPHY: It’s actually not about me, it’s my boyfriend. I wanted him to come to you himself but he doesn’t like to ask for help.

(BOY enters into his playing space, which is stage right. He is visually depressed, self-involved. OPHY looks toward him when he enters. She can see him, but ANNA cannot. OPHY looks back to ANNA.) ANNA: That’s alright. I only work with women anyway.

(BOY plays out the action in the following lines. At various points, OPHY will look toward BOY as she tells the story, and even interact with him.)

— 45 —

O phy ’ s

A pothecary

OPHY: Oh. Okay. Well, the thing is, my boyfriend, his father died recently and he’s been really depressed. I wish there was a way that I could help him. He stares at the walls all day, and wanders the streets all night. We live next door to each other, so I see him through my window, sometimes as late as three in the morning, up the block, down the block, (BOY walks up and down the stage.) talking to himself about the pointlessness of life. He still wants to, you know, be ­intimate . . . but he won’t actually talk to me. I’ve been trying to console him, but nothing helps. He doesn’t even notice I’m there sometimes.

ANNA: That sounds hard. Can I ask you . . . how were things between the two of you before his father died?

(During the following lines, OPHY rises and goes to BOY, as if being pulled. BOY performs the actions she speaks of.)

OPHY: Oh, Anna, we were so in love. He used to write me these beautiful letters. (BOY gives her a necklace and she puts it on.) And he gave me this necklace. It’s a ruby. It was his grandmother’s. (He takes the necklace away.) I can’t wear it because no one is supposed to know about us, especially our parents, and we both still live at home, so it’s hard. (She takes back the necklace, but stows it somewhere secret.)

But I keep it under my pillow. It means a lot to me.

ANNA: So . . . the relationship is a secret?

OPHY: I guess. He asked me not to tell anyone. His family has a ton of money, so they micromanage him. I think he just wants to keep things under wraps.

ANNA: How does that make you feel?

OPHY: What do you mean?

ANNA: Are you happy? Are your needs being met?

OPHY: (Laughing.) Oh, I don’t have needs!

— 46 —

O phy ’ s

A pothecary

ANNA: Yes you do. Everyone has needs. What do you want in your life?

OPHY: I don’t know. I never thought about it before. But this isn’t about me. It’s about— (She looks at BOY, who is doing something very self-involved.)

ANNA: (Interrupting her.) This is about you. This is all about you.

(BOY scowls at OPHY, as if to disagree with ANNA.) Let’s stop here for today, okay? This week, I want you to spend a little time thinking about who you are, not what everyone else wants you to be.

OPHY: Who I am?

ANNA: Who you are. Think about it hard. As if your life depends on it. See you next week?

OPHY: (Confused.) Okay.

(OPHY shrugs. She rises and walks twice around BOY. As she starts to do so, she looks toward him and he reaches for her arm. She comes closer for a moment, but then pulls away.

She keeps walking. She puts on a scarf. And then, with great difficulty, she walks back toward ANNA in the “office”. She walks once around the office, and then plops back down in her chair. A week has passed.)

SCENE 2 ANNA: So, it didn’t go well?

OPHY: No. Thinking about your needs can be a real pain in the ass.

ANNA: It can be. What happened?

— 47 —

O phy ’ s

A pothecary

OPHY: My brother does nothing around the house and I’m always cleaning up and cooking and . . . guess what? My father just sent my brother to France. France! I asked if I could go, too, and the answer was no, of course. So I’m stuck at home indefinitely with no money and nothing of significance to do. Then, my boyfriend’s mother has some weird shotgun wedding to his uncle, and now my boyfriend’s even more depressed. And angry, too.

(BOY and OPHY perform the actions in the following lines in a dance of push and pull.)

Sometimes he calls me names. Sometimes he ignores me ­a ltogether. My father found out about us and started ­meddling in it. “Stay away from him. Get back together with him.” He can’t seem to decide. But no one asks for my opinion about anything. It’s like I have no say.

(OPHY goes back to her seat.)

ANNA: I know how that feels.

OPHY: And I’m thinking about what you said—about figuring out who I am—but the problem is: I’m no one. I’m just a dull satellite revolving around a bunch of misguided planets. I’m the foundation of the house but I don’t ever get to live in it. I can’t even locate my feelings because I’ve suppressed them so long in favor of everyone else’s. Oh, and I missed a ­fucking period. You know, there’s this river near my house, and sometimes I just think how it would feel to climb to the tallest tree and throw myself into the rocks and forget about— ANNA: (Interrupting her.) Ophelia! Take a few breaths, okay?

(OPHY takes a few breaths.)

I know what you’re going through. I almost threw myself off a moving train once. Talk about desperation. But that’s just letting them win. We can figure this out together. But we won’t get anywhere if you start to lose it. You need to focus.

OPHY: Okay.

ANNA: Tell me who you are.

— 48 —

O phy ’ s

A pothecary

OPHY: I am the daughter of Polonius, and the sister of Laertes, and the ex-girlfriend of Hamlet, I guess, if you can even call me that. He never liked using “titles.”

ANNA: That’s just who you are in relation to all of the men in your life. Who are you, apart from them?

OPHY: I don’t know what you— ANNA: What are your interests? What skills do you have?

(BOY is listening with some disdain.)

OPHY: (Thinks a moment.) I can sew.

ANNA: (Looking at OPHY’s scarf with curiosity.) Did you make that?

OPHY: Yeah. (Looks down at her scarf, which has many stray threads.) Okay, so I’m not great at sewing. It’s just what my father sent me to learn as a child when my mother died.

Wait . . . There is something. I pick flowers. And herbs. (Her face lighting up.) We have a huge garden filled with violets and daisies and rosemary and rue. People always come to me when they’re sick and ask me to make them a tonic or a tea. I tried to give Hamlet fresh chamomile and valerian root once, but he said it tasted like dirt, and refused to drink it.

(BOY spits out an imaginary tea and grimaces.)

ANNA: It sounds like you know a lot about herbs, Ophelia— OPHY: —Oh, my friends call me Ophy— ANNA: —And that you enjoy being in the garden.

OPHY: (Smiling.) Yeah, I guess I do.

ANNA: Do people pay you for these remedies that you make?

OPHY: No, of course not. People ask me for them, and I just give them away. That’s my nature.

— 49 —

O phy ’ s

A pothecary

ANNA: Your nature is to just give things away? (OPHELIA shrugs.)

Is it also your nature to be deferring, passive, and vapid?

Or is that just how you’ve been raised to be? Ophelia, you need a job. A career. A raison d’être. You’re a wise young woman swimming in a sea of seasoned fools. You need a life raft and you’re going to have to build that shit yourself. Let’s start with a business plan. This week, I’d like you to write down the five most common teas or tinctures you make, and how much you think someone might pay you for them. Take into consideration the time it takes you to pick the roots and herbs, to cut and mix them, and to package them. Also take into consideration how rare they are, how effective your remedies have been in the past, and how many other herbalists make remedies as good as yours. Okay?

OPHY: But what will my father— ANNA: Your father will be—Look, just do it, okay? I’ll see you next week.

(OPHY nods and rises. She walks once around BOY, pushing him now onto his knees, and then she puts on a blazer. She then walks twice around the “office” before plopping back down in her chair. Several weeks have passed.)

SCENE 3 OPHY: Hi, Anna. Sorry I skipped a couple weeks.

ANNA: That’s alright.

(BOY looks like he’s really falling apart. During the following lines, he performs the scene OPHY describes.)

OPHY: It hasn’t been easy to get any work done. Everyone next door is always fighting, and the sound travels. It’s been hard to concentrate. (She rises and goes to BOY’s playing space, where he is silently quarrelling with someone we can’t see.) And then, one day, I go over there to ask them to quiet down so I can focus and there’s Hamlet holding a knife and screaming at his mother. And I’m thinking: Enough of this! I go into the room and he’s so shocked to see me he

— 50 —

O phy ’ s

A pothecary

drops the knife. My father appears out of nowhere—I think he was listening in!—and grabs the knife and runs home. It was crazy. I mean, I think someone might have gotten killed if I didn’t intervene!

ANNA: Pretty much. So, did you finish the business plan?

OPHY: I had to pull a few all-nighters, but . . . (Pulling out a ­document.) I got it done!

(BOY doesn’t like that she wrote this business plan. Over the following lines, he silently tries in various ways to distract her from showing it to ANNA, even entering the coaching office. But OPHY can’t see him as strongly as before. His presence is more like a gnat or a ghost, and OPHY occasionally swats or pushes him away.)

ANNA: Let me see!

OPHY: Okay, so these are my two most popular herbal teas. Here is a salve I make for burns. And this one is for things like measles or pox-type things. And this herbal tea gives people energy. And here is my Be-Stress-Free tea. (OPHY shoves a clinging BOY to the side or even to the floor. He’s getting in her way.) The new mothers really like this one. I didn’t really know what to charge for these. I’ve never had my own money. But without my brother around, it was very easy to go into town and do some research. I went to four apothecaries, and these prices are on par with what everyone else is charging. So, what do you think?

(BOY has now crawled back to his playing space. He tries to call to OPHY but no sound comes out of his mouth. She cannot hear him. He does it again.)

ANNA: I’m impressed.

OPHY: Yeah, me too. Something in me has changed. I like ­working. I really believe in these herbs. And I like helping people feel better. (Getting up to go.) Anyway, I can’t stay for long today. There’s a ton of work to do. I showed the business plan to my father and convinced him this could lead to an early retirement, so he gave me a small loan.

— 51 —

O phy ’ s

A pothecary

(She walks into BOY’s space as if it’s her home, and she points to the new additions, knocking him about in various ways as she does so, without seeing him.)

OPHY: I’ve transformed my bedroom into a greenhouse, and our ­living room into a shop. It’s a good thing my ­brother’s in Paris, because his room is now a storage room. I’m ­hoping to open this week. (Stepping right over BOY, who is now laying on the floor, OPHY hangs up the business sign, made of dried flowers, across the house. It says “OPHY’S APOTHECARY.” Then, in a lower voice, to ANNA.) Oh, and the missed period—false alarm. Whew! Stress, I guess. Glad I didn’t do anything crazy. Thank you for everything, Anna.

ANNA: No need to thank me. This is the whole reason I created my business, Anna K. Coaching. To help women redefine their roles, and change the world around them.

OPHY: I was wondering . . . what does the K stand for? In Anna K? ANNA: Oh. It was from my married name—Karenina—but it didn’t feel right to keep it because . . . (with a smile) I’m not ­married anymore. ’Course it’s either your father’s name or your husband’s name, right? So I just went with “K.” Good luck on your opening, Ophelia. And remember, you’re setting an example. Choose your words and actions carefully. Other women will repeat them for a long, long time.

OPHY: I’ll do my best.

ANNA: I know you will.

(OPHY goes to leave. BOY is still lying on the floor.)

Hey, I think there’s another woman in the waiting room. Will you send her in? I know she took a streetcar here and, from what I heard, it was a long-ass ride.

(OPHY nods, walks one more time over BOY, adjusts her sign, then looks down and sees him. She hands him a flower from the sign—a kind of peace offering. Then she exits.)

End of play.

— 52 —

I HAD A BIRD

By Genevieve Jessee

33

I HAD A BIRD

By Genevieve Jessee I HAD A BIRD was originally developed by PlayGround (James A. Kleinmann, Artistic Director) for the Monday Night PlayGround staged reading series in residence at Berkeley Repertory Theatre on January 16, 2017. It was directed by May Liang. The cast was as follows: One ........................................................ Morgan J. Booker Two ...................................................... Nic A. Sommerfeld Three ..................................................... Ayelet Firstenberg I HAD A BIRD was premiered by PlayGround at the 21st Annual Best of PlayGround (2017) Festival on May 11, 2017. It was directed by May Liang. The cast was as follows: One ........................................................... Michelle Ianiro Two .............................................................. Robyn Grahn Three ........................................................... Nancy French Genevieve Jessee received a B.A. degree in Theatre Arts from Dillard University, and an M.F.A. in Playwriting from Boston University. Her work has been presented at the Source Festival, Boston Playwright’s Theater, EXIT theatre, and the Atlanta Black Theatre Festival. She is the recipient of the 2017 June Anne Baker Prize, Best of San Francisco Fringe Festival, and is a two-time PlayGround Emerging Playwright Award winner. Her short play Walls Come Tumbling Down was featured in PlayGround’s The Potrero Nuevo Project, the inaugural production of Potrero Stage.

34

I HAD A BIRD

By Genevieve Jessee Characters: One, Black girl of no more than 8 years old.

Two, White girl of no more than 7 years old. Younger sister of Three.

Three, White girl of no more than 12 years old. Oldest sister of Two. NOTE: All characters are played by adults.

Setting: 1918 in the American south. Set in the midst of WWI, and the influenza pandemic. The front yard of Two and Three’s house. ______ (ONE is alone on stage, jumping rope. The rope can be invisible or tangible. She sings her nursery rhyme in cadence with her jumping. She wears a little girl’s dress and her hair is in braided pigtails.)

ONE: I had a little bird Its name was Enza I opened the window And in-flu-enza (TWO enters dressed in kind. She examines ONE for a moment.)

TWO: Whatcha doin’?

ONE: Jumpin’ rope.

TWO: I mean, whatcha doing here?

ONE: Waitin’ for my Mama.

TWO: She the colored woman helping Sissy?

ONE: S’pose so. Mama had to see after a little girl.

TWO: She a nurse?

35

I HAD A BIRD

ONE (Nods.) Back home. At the hospital.

TWO: Where’s that?

ONE: New York.

TWO: That’s far.

ONE: Uh huh.

TWO: Whatcha doing here?

ONE: Had to come see about Nana.

TWO: Who’s your Nana?

ONE: My Mama’s mama.

TWO: I mean, I know your Nana?

ONE: Mama said if I get lost, tell them to send me on my way to Trudy Harrison’s directly. Everybody knows her.

TWO: Trudy sells good teacakes. She gives me an extra one sometimes.

ONE: Me, too. And I don’t have to buy ’em or nothing.

TWO: That’s ’cause she’s your Nana. She ties mine up with a piece of yellow ribbon I like. Haven’t had any in a while, though.

ONE: She’s sick.

TWO: Like Sissy?

ONE: Mama will fix ’em up. When I’m sick I get two spoonfuls and a song. All better.

TWO: Good. Because Sissy plays the best. We make mud pies and play with doll babies. Once you get too big you don’t want to play anymore.

ONE: I’ll always like to play no matter how big I get.

36

I HAD A BIRD

TWO: What were you singing?

ONE: Wanna jump?

(TWO nods.)

ONE (cont’d): Stand here.

(ONE positions TWO in front of her within the rope. They face each other. ONE begins to turn the rope and the two girls jump in unison.)

ONE (cont’d): I had a little bird Its name was Enza I opened the window And in-flu-enza (TWO erupts in giggles. They stop jumping for a moment.)

TWO: I like that!

ONE: I learned it from my best friend Josephine. She knows every game there is. We play hand games until the sun goes to bed and her Mama hollers out the window “Joooosephiiiiiiiiiiiine” and we go running home. (Beat) If I teach them all to you, will you play with me?

(TWO nods. ONE lifts her hands and shows her a simple patty cake.)

ONE (cont’d): Maybe you can be my new best friend. ’Cause now I don’t got one.

TWO: What about Josephine?

ONE: She got sick, and Mama said she got called home to be with the angels.

TWO: Why didn’t your Mama give her two spoonfuls and a song?

ONE: She did. But Mama said sometimes God’s got to call more angels home when it’s too much work to be done.

(TWO stops playing pattycake, obviously affected.)

37

I HAD A BIRD

ONE (cont’d): What’s wrong?

TWO: What if God calls Sissy? What if she’s got to go help with the work?

ONE: Think something else. Quick! She’s running and playing and you’re teaching her the game I taught you.

TWO: What’s that gonna do?

ONE: Mama says a thought’s got weight, but it’s light and the wind’ll carry it all over town. Even if it’s a whisper. So you gotta think a good one.

TWO: Me and Sissy eating teacakes and Papa playing the banjo!

(ONE envisions a thought springing from TWO’s head and blowing away. She tracks it with her eyes.)

ONE: There it goes! See it?

TWO: Where?

ONE: Oh, it’s gone now. You’ll be eating teacakes and warm milk and Sissy be dancing to your daddy’s banjo any minute now.

I know it.

TWO: I think I see it! Way over there. Must be on its way to your Nana!

ONE: Yup. Flown off just like a bird.

(ONE starts turning the rope again. TWO joins in.)

TWO: I had a little bird Its name was Enza.

(They are fully engaged in their jumping. They don’t notice THREE enter. She’s carrying a few things she’s purchased from the market. She is immediately concerned by the scene before her.)

THREE: Stop that!

38

I HAD A BIRD

(ONE and TWO stop jumping.)

ONE: You wanna jump? Here take this end.

(ONE extends an end of the rope to THREE. THREE grabs TWO’s arm and jerks her away from ONE.) TWO: Ow! That hurts.

THREE: (To ONE.) What are you doing here? You don’t belong here.

TWO: Her Mama is helping Sissy. She’s a nurse.

THREE: I never seen no colored nurse before.

ONE: Mama said on account of the war, she’s busy as a termite in a sawmill. Goes to look after one and ten more come outta the woodwork. Musta sent all the white nurses to look after the soldiers.

THREE: Prolly not a real one anyway. Just some ole back country juju woman.

(ONE looks at THREE askance. She walks away and returns to jumping rope alone.)

TWO: What’s a juju woman?

THREE: Well, she ain’t a nurse. I’ll tell you that. You go on inside.

And you go home where you belong. Don’t come back.

TWO: But we’re playing!

THREE: You ought not be.

TWO: Mama told me to go on outside and play and that’s just what I’m doing! You go in if you wanna.

THREE: You’re too young to remember, but Papa wouldn’t stand for it.

39

I HAD A BIRD

TWO: Papa liked playing just as much as me. He wooshed me up in the air and tickled my ears. He’d play the banjo so I could dance and he’d laugh real big and low like his belly would bust open from all them laughs trying to get out. Maybe you don’t remember Papa like I do. When he comes home we’ll do it all again. And you can just go on in the house then, too, if you don’t wanna play. Mama said, “Mind yourself and nobody else, ’cause nobody likes a tattle tail.”

THREE: I’m not being mean. I’m trying to help you. Everybody around here thinks just the same.

TWO: You’re too big to play and you’re just trying to spoil mine!

THREE: I was little once, too. I wanted to play. You’ll start thinking you and your little friend can go to town and get some penny candy. And the kids from school will see, and church. And everybody you know will start whispering about you. Saying nasty, hateful things, and it’ll spread just like wildfire that you’re nothing but a ni— TWO (Pointing to the air.) Shhhhhhh! There they go! There and there! You see ’em?

THREE: What?

TWO: Bad thoughts! Caught in the wind. Flying all over town.

THREE: Are you feverish, too?

TWO: You better think a good thought quick!

(TWO’s heard enough and darts over to ONE hoping to escape the bad thoughts, jumping into the moving rope and back into their sympatico rhythm.)

TWO (cont’d): (To ONE.) You see ’em?

(ONE nods. ONE and TWO jump hard as if they can jump away from the unpleasantness. Ignored, THREE begins to storm into the house, but just as she gets to the door she hears her mother sobbing from within. She turns to look at ONE and TWO still jumping, still lost in play. She sits on the step of the front door, and begins to tear. ONE and 40

I HAD A BIRD

TWO falter in their jumping long enough for ONE to notice THREE’s sadness. She goes to her.)

ONE: Don’t worry. Mama will make your sister all better, and Nana, too. She’s the best nurse at the hospital. All the doctors say so.

(TWO is eager to get back to the business at hand — play.)

TWO: You know “Ring Around the Rosie”?

(ONE nods. ONE and TWO take hands. ONE holds her hand out to THREE to join.)

ONE: It’s better with three.

(THREE joins reluctantly. What else is there to do, but spin or face the realities inside their home? The three girls join hands reciting the rhyme, increasing in speed until they are whirling.)

ALL: Ring around the rosie Pocket full of posies Ashes Ashes We all fall down!

(The three girls collapse to the ground in unison. They remain motionless on the ground.)

(BLACKOUT.) End of play.

41

Factory Girls Erin Marie Panttaja GIRL 1

A woman.

GIRL 2

A woman.

GIRL 3

A woman.

SUPERVISOR

A man.

Note: The three girls can't all be white.

Music: Philip Glass String Quartet Number 3 ("Mishima"), movements IV(1962-Body Building), V (Blood Oath), VI (Mishima), played straight through. (7:59 total)

Setting: A factory. The SUPERVISOR has a desk with a stamp.

Choreographic inspirations: Watch Vanishing Souls/Falling Embers / Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire, Music and Dance Listen to Ghanaian postal workers cancelling stamps

1

Factory Girls Erin Marie Panttaja GIRL 1

A woman.

GIRL 2

A woman.

GIRL 3

A woman.

SUPERVISOR

A man.

Note: The three girls can't all be white.

Music: Philip Glass String Quartet Number 3 ("Mishima"), movements IV(1962-Body Building), V (Blood Oath), VI (Mishima), played straight through. (7:59 total) Setting: A factory. The SUPERVISOR has a desk with a stamp.

Choreographic inspirations: Watch Vanishing Souls/Falling Embers / Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire, Music and Dance Listen to Ghanaian postal workers cancelling stamps 1962-BODY BUILDING :00 (The music begins. The GIRLs rush down the streets on their separate commutes.

They arrive at the factory, greeting each other, taking off coats, putting down bags. No one touches anyone.)

:48 (The SUPERVISOR enters. He approaches GIRL 1, flirts with her. She is not having it, but plays along. Because that's what you do. He has the power here. The other two watch. They have seen this before. Maybe she should have dressed more conservatively? But they all know it wouldn't have helped. (she's not dressed provocatively) He touches her face.)

2

1:34 (At the silence, the supervisor looks at his watch.

SUPERVISOR (sternly, loudly) Time.

(Everyone moves their place in the factory with sudden urgency. Frozen.

Waits for the music to begin.)

BLOOD OATH :00 (GIRL 1 begins a repetitive collection of movements. She is working the factory. ) :21 (GIRL 2 begins the same set of movements. They may be synchronized or staggered.) :44 (GIRL 3 joins in.) :58 (The SUPERVISOR adds his own work, sitting or standing at a desk, as a layer over the top as he stamps his paperwork. His rhythms interlock with those of the GIRLs.) 1:12 (The SUPERVISOR wanders over to GIRL 2.

He watches her work. He smiles. She smiles back.)

1:48 (At the music peak, he speaks to GIRL 2. A light flirtation. He is friendly.)

3

SUPERVISOR Come over here.

(They walk back to his desk. GIRLS 1 and 3 watch. Continuing to work.)

You look nice today.

Do you have something special after work? Someone special?

(He touches her arm.)

Don't let him steal you away from all of us.

We would miss you.

(He pulls her closer. She resists.)

I would miss you.

(He moves to kiss her. She pulls away.)

You're not offended, are you?

Come on. Just a little kiss? To show there are no hard feelings?

I'm being nice.

(He is pleading. Can't she see he's one of the good guys? She owes him something for that.)

I'm just being nice.

2:35 (GIRL 2 returns to work. Her work is offset from each of the rest of the others.)

3:14 (In the silence.)

4

SUPERVISOR Oh come on. We could find better workers in an alley.

MISHIMA/CLOSING (The three girls work, subdued. They reestablish the rhythms of before. The SUPERVISOR starts up his work. A little later. A little abstracted. Layered over the top. He sighs. ) :50 SUPERVISOR I could have you fired.

(The movement sequence changes. It still repeats, but there is now a step of physical contact in it, a pause, a connection. They continue to work.)

2:00 SUPERVISOR I have the power here.

(The sequence changes again. The GIRLs keep working, but move closer together.)

2:30, the whole thing begins to slow.

SUPERVISOR (to GIRL 3) You. Come over.

(The GIRLS stop. Stand up, one at a time. The supervisor looks at them. The three GIRLs stand shoulder to shoulder and look at him. They are taking the power here. He looks at them through the silence.)

END OF PLAY

5

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

The Third Date

By Alanna McFall

Contact Information Alanna McFall (612)845-6014 akmcfall@gmail.com

Cast of Characters Darren- Male- 20’s-30’s- Any Race- A terrible person.

Leona- Female- 20’s-30’s- Any Race- Another terrible person.

1

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

A table in a fancy restaurant is set for two. DARREN is waiting for his date to arrive. He fiddles with his utensils and menu.

He pulls out his phone and plays on it, lounging back in his chair.

Beat.

LEONA enters in a hurry. Darren sits up straight.

LEONA I’m so so sorry, Darren, I got caught up at work, I hope you haven’t been waiting long! I got here as fast as I could.

DARREN No problem, no problem. Sit down.

Leona sits.

DARREN Leona, I’m sorry too, I was going to bring you flowers, third date and all, but the store near my house was completely out. It’s the thought that counts, I guess?

LEONA I guess. What’s so important about the third date?

DARREN Well, you know, we’ve got the first impressions out of the way.

We know we like the image the other is presenting or we wouldn’t have gotten past the first date. We know we don’t annoy each other too much, because we got through the second. I figure now is when we decide if we’re actually good together or not.

2

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

LEONA You sound like someone who gets dumped after a lot of third dates.

DARREN Hah, no, no, I just-...yes. I can be a decent guy for two dates. The third is when the real me starts to show through. People don’t tend to stay after that.

LEONA What, you some sort of pervert or psycho?

DARREN Not at all. I’m just kind of an asshole.

LEONA I highly doubt you’re that bad.

DARREN ...I didn’t try to buy you flowers. I thought if I said I tried, I’d still get credit without having to waste the time or money. That’s the kind of asshole I am.

LEONA That’s a real dick move.

DARREN Yup. Since we haven’t ordered yet, if we want to go our separate ways, we can just-

3

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

LEONA I wasn’t at work.

DARREN What?

LEONA I didn’t even have work today, I just forgot the date was tonight.

And when I did remember, I still finished the episode of Game of Thrones I was rewatching in my pajamas. It wasn’t even a new one.

DARREN Wow. LEONA Yeah.

DARREN That...is a real dick move.

LEONA So you’re not the only asshole here.

DARREN …Huh. Beat. Darren fiddles with his menu. He then puts it down firmly.

DARREN I steal people’s lunches at work. Not the whole thing, I take a little bit from a bunch of different lunches so they don’t notice. It’s like

4

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

a buffet of theft a couple times a week. It’s not even a money thing, I just feel like it.

LEONA I know that feeling. When I worked at an elementary school, I stole cookies out of kids’ bags and blamed it on other kids. Some of them got in serious trouble.

DARREN Holy shit. That’s amazing. One of my coworkers is anal-retentive, so I use a very slightly different font and text size every time I send him documents.

LEONA Nice. You should set up a webcam to capture it when he finally snaps. That’s what I did when I put hair dye in my roommate’s shampoo.

DARREN I’ve driven out my last five roommates, four of them intentionally.

LEONA My last six, and one who paid me to leave. I’m talking the whole deposit on my new place, she wanted me gone that badly.

DARREN I bring weird things only I like to potlucks so that I can eat it all and bring the leftovers home at the end.

5

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

LEONA I haven’t bought my own weed in years, I am a master at bumming a smoke.

DARREN (in awe).

You’re terrible.

LEONA You’re pretty terrible yourself, mister.

DARREN Leona...I think I love you.

LEONA No, you don’t.

DARREN Yes, I do. I’ve never met someone who was as much of an asshole as I am.

LEONA You only think you do because it’s new right now and you’re used to hiding it. Men can be assholes, people let it slide, but I’m just a bitch. No one likes asshole women, no one lets it slide because they’re charming or cute or rich. If you really got to know me, you’d get annoyed and leave.

6

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

DARREN No, no, I’ve never felt like I could share my true self with someone the way I can with you. I feel like I could tell you anything. Like how I smoke on the subway.

LEONA I steal seats from pregnant women on the train.

DARREN Or how I eat kettle chips in libraries.

LEONA I post unflattering pictures of my friends on Facebook.

DARREN Or how I let my cousin’s dog run away on purpose!

Beat. Leona stares at him.

DARREN (suddenly unsure) It was...it was a really annoying dog. And it’s not like it died, they found it after about a week...the frostbite wasn’t that bad, the vets only had to amputate one of its legs...crap, I ruined this, didn’t I? LEONA I’m sleeping with my brother’s wife.

DARREN …Really?

7

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

LEONA I’m not even interested in women, I’m 100% doing it to mess with him. I’ve slept with boyfriends’ brothers, teachers’ spouses, anyone that I think it would devastate. That is the kind of bitch I am and you should run away as soon as you can.

Beat. Darren reaches across the table and takes Leona’s hand.

DARREN No, Leona, you don’t understand. You should be proud to be an asshole. We both should be. It’s not about what the world thinks, it’s about sharing who you are inside. And using those insides to piss off everyone around you.

Darren begins to sing “True Colors” by Cyndi Lauper.

DARREN You with the sad eyes Don't be discouraged Oh I realize It's hard to take courage In a world full of people You can lose sight of it all And the darkness inside you Can make you feel so small But I see your true colors Shining through.

8

Alanna McFall/”The Third Date”/akmcfall@gmail.com

Hands linked across the table, the two of them stand and sing, gazing into each others eyes.

DARREN and LEONA I see your true colors And that's why I love you So don't be afraid to let them show Your true colors.

DARREN True colors are beautiful Like a rainbow.

LEONA Darren, that was...that was so beautiful. You truly are a raging asshole.

DARREN And you are a heinous bitch.

They lean across the table and kiss.

DARREN Leona, I know this is only our third date, but...will you marry me?

LEONA Oh Darren, I think that depends...do you have a brother?

Black out.

9

Love, Pray, Eat Melissa Keith Mkeith529@gmail.com

CAST WANDA – A female praying mantis, many of her friends have already had eggs, but she really values all parts of the reproductive process, good friends with JACKIE, has a very larger-than-life, confident presence JACKIE – A female praying mantis, many of her friends have already had eggs – although that’s not necessarily her primary concern, has a new relationship with LARRY she’s not quite sure of DUDE 1* – a male praying mantis at the bar, young and conventionally attractive DUDE 2*- a male praying mantis at the bar, young maybe a little hipster-y or nerdy, different looking than DUDE 1 LARRY *– A big, plump bumble bee. Klutzy, but full of joy, always looking for pollen *DUDE 1, DUDE 2 and LARRY should all be played by the same actor

Love, Pray, Eat

Melissa Keith mkeith529@gmail.com

(Two praying mantis ladies, WANDA and JACKIE, are at a bar chatting, they’ve been out for a while. Their table is full of empty glasses and empty food baskets. JACKIE is polishing off one of the remaining baskets) WANDA It just pisses me off that she won’t even try to come out anymore, you know?

JACKIE I know.

WANDA We always said the three of us were gonna be friends forever. We weren’t gonna let anything stop us from getting together - like jobs or babies or lizards, but then POOF as soon as she has a bunch of eggs she just up and disappears.

JACKIE I mean, yeah, it sucks she’s not making much of an effortWANDA ZERO effortJACKIE But like – it has to be hard right? Now that they’re a vulnerable cluster of eggs she has to protect them from like predators, and realistically is probably close to death after fulfilling her biological imperative.

That’s gotta be exhausting.

WANDA Yeah yeah yeah. You know what else is exhausting? Looking this fine.

JACKIE Haha full time job right there.

WANDA Someone’s gotta do it (they high-five with their whole front legs) Oh hey hey hey! How was that date last weekJACKIE Oh. Well, we don’t really need to talkWANDA What was his name again? Chad? Chamberlain? Chumbeldore?

JACKIE Larry.

1

Love, Pray, Eat

Melissa Keith mkeith529@gmail.com WANDA

Right. I was close.

JACKIE (laughs) Sure.

(Dude enters) WANDA Whoa hang on, do you see the thorax on that dude? Check it out. Cronch level 4.

(JACKIE and WANDA move their heads left and right to make best use of their compound eyes)

JACKIE Yeah not bad. 3 and a half maybe.

WANDA You kidding me? I’d like to eat it with a side of salsa. I could put my whole mouth around cronchy head and just tear it off and cronch cronch cronch cronch! (to DUDE) Hey! Hey you!

DUDE Me? WANDA Yeah you, nice head. Anybody ever tell you it would look better chewed up and in my stomach?

DUDE Wow. Okay. I’m going now.

WANDA Awww come on, turn around and let me get a peek at that abdomen, maybe give this a little shake!

(Wanda shakes a salt shaker) DUDE Gross, you’re disgusting.

WANDA Hey! You don’t want this, wear a hat, you slut! (to JACKIE) He wanted it. Sorry, where were we?

JACKIE My date – but can we have a shot first?

WANDA Always.

2

Love, Pray, Eat

Melissa Keith mkeith529@gmail.com

(Jackie and Wanda have a shot) WANDA Now. What did his insides taste like? Did they splorgle out?

JACKIE I’m sorry – splorgle?

WANDA You know what I mean - juice volcano.

(WANDA demonstrates with her hands. JACKIE sighs) WANDA C’mooooon tell me. Let me live vicariously – you see how my night has been.

JACKIE You won’t like it.

WANDA You know I’ll like it, shut up. (chanted) Tell me how he died! Tell me how he died! Did he scream! Did he scream!

JACKIE So. Okay. Here’s the thing, though. I didn’t kill him. I. I left him alive.

WANDA You… what now?

JACKIE I didn’t kill him. I left him alive.

(Beat. Wanda tries to make sense of this) WANDA But. Like. You still ripped off his head and had a couple bites?

JACKIE Nope.

(Wanda’s jaw drops) WANDA I’m gonna need another shot.

JACKIE I KNOW. I know. I’m super embarrassed. I can’t even figure out why I would do it.

3

Love, Pray, Eat

Melissa Keith mkeith529@gmail.com

WANDA I don’t know dude, but it’s fucked up!

JACKIE You’re telling me. Slurping up their neck juice and crunching through their exoskeleton has always been my favorite part. You know how snacky I get.

WANDA Oh yeah. Never seen a gal eat so many spiders.

JACKIE I mean it’s called an All-You-Can-Eat insect café for a reason.

WANDA Yeah, but I’m pretty sure the manager didn’t expect you to take a bite out of his leg.

JACKIE Fair point.

WANDA So why’d you get all weird with Chamberlain?

JACKIE Larry.

WANDA Yes, Larry.

JACKIE I… I don’t know, Wanda. To tell you the truth, I guess maybe(DUDE 2 enters) WANDA Hold that thought, incoming(WANDA pulls an air-horn out of her purse and activates it a few times) WANDA Oh hey hey hey baby caterpillar. Anybody ever tell you that you put the MAN in MANDIBLES. Oh yeah you know I could pound dem compound eyes all night! Hey! Where you goin? I’m over here! Your antennae broken or something?

4

Love, Pray, Eat

Melissa Keith mkeith529@gmail.com DUDE 2

Not going to happen.

(DUDE 2 gives WANDA a disgusted look and leaves) WANDA The nerve. Doesn’t he know that he’d be lucky to impregnate me? Right?

JACKIE I mean you’re rightWANDA I know I’m rightJACKIE RightWANDA (Definitive, final) Right.

JACKIE …. but all the same have you considered a different approach?

WANDA Please! Like I’d take advice from you, I don’t need a mantis hangin around.

JACKIE Hey, Larry isn’t that badWANDA Listen. (Concerned) Like, you did learn this in seventh grade health, right? Eating them actually gives you a chance of getting more eggs, okay honey? Like, don’t get me wrong I think Peggy is a dumb bitch for not going out with us anymore but at least she mandibled up and murdered and then consumed her mate. Mid coitus, the way nature intended.

JACKIE Yeah, I know, I know, butWANDA But what then? BUT. WHAT. JACKIE Here’s the thing about Larry. He’s different.

WANDA Sure.

JACKIE No, No. He is. The thing about Larry is. He’s a bee.

5

Love, Pray, Eat

Melissa Keith mkeith529@gmail.com (LARRY enters. He is an extremely plump bee. He flies around looking for pollen, knocking over glasses, and just being generally unware and klutzy.)

LARRY

Hey hey hey! I’m a bee!

WANDA You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

JACKIE I’m notLARRY I’m a bee!

JACKIE -there’s something about him that I just… love WANDA LOVE? JACKIE I know! I know! It doesn’t make sense. I’ll never have eggs this way, and I know that’s like the entire point of our lives and everythingWANDA A BEE? JACKIE But at the same time… aww look at him flying around just looking for pollen! Isn’t it kind of cute? Just so simple. So full of life. He’s got one thing he’s after and it’s pollen, and he’s just fucking going for it. I just feel like I need to protect him.

WANDA A BEE? LARRY I’m a bee!

JACKIE Yes, A bee. A bee, okay? And he makes me happy. And I thought you wanted me to be happy.

WANDA B.. but… a bee?

6

Love, Pray, Eat

Melissa Keith mkeith529@gmail.com

JACKIE Fine. I guess I was a fool to think you’d understand. I know you’re a pretty by-the-book-bug. C’mon Larry, let’s go.

LARRY I’m a bee!

WANDA Wait. Wait. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was taken by surprise, but- whatever makes you happy. Makes me happy.

JACKIE. You mean it?

WANDA I mean it. I don’t want to lose you like we lost Peggy.

LARRY (with kindness) I’m a bee.

WANDA Aww that was actually really sweet of you to say.

JACKIE See? And I’ll still be your wing woman, so you don’t have to worry about that. Like, hey - what about that set of antennas at ten o’clock?

WANDA Looks like a pretty good amuse bouche. And my bouche is ready to be amused. (She takes a shot. To offstage Dude) Hey! Call me a lettuce wrap cuz I wanna wrap my greens all over you! (to Jackie) Excuse me.

(WANDA exits stage left.)

JACKIE Some mantises never change.

LARRY I’m a bee.

END OF PLAY

7

La Planchada

by Eteya Trinidad eteyavi@gmail.com (707) 502-8621 Draft 2/5/2021

CHARACTERS Ramón, a Mexican American man in his fifties or sixties.

Lola, a young Latina woman, 20s. Ramón’s niece.

La Planchada, the ghost of a neglectful nurse who still wears a cleanly ironed uniform from the 1930s. Mexican woman, 30s to 50s.

SETTING A COVID-19 ward in an overcrowded hospital, possibly El Paso. Lola calls in on Zoom from her comfortable apartment in California.

Eteya Trinidad

eteyavi@gmail.com

La Planchada RAMÓN lays in a hospital bed, attached to oxygen and IVs, on a Zoom call with LOLA.

LOLA How are you feeling, tío? Are you getting everything you need?

RAMÓN Eh, the nurses are busy, but I’m fine.

LOLA I’m surprised you even got a bed.

RAMÓN They save the best ones in the house for tired viejitos like me.

LOLA You’re not that old.

RAMÓN I’m old enough.

LOLA I wish I could be there with you.

RAMÓN You’ve got your med school studies, cariño, don’t worry about me. Plus I don’t think you could fit.

LOLA How many do you have in the room?

RAMÓN Six en todo. We all suck in our panzas, reeaall tight.

Ramón holds his breath, but it catches in his throat. He has a small coughing fit.

LOLA 1

Eteya Trinidad

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Tío, you can’t be the class clown right now, okay? You need to focus on getting better.

RAMÓN Lighten up, Lola. One little joke’s not gonna kill me. (The coughing fit picks up again.)

I have to impress my new roomies somehow, and my looks just don’t do it anymore.

LOLA Are you getting along with them alright?

RAMÓN The bed next to me says he saw La Planchada in the hallway last night.

LOLA That ghost lady you told me about growing up? What would she be doing so far from Mexico City?

RAMÓN No sé. Our hospitals are short staffed. Maybe she knew we needed her.

LOLA You don’t believe him, do you?

RAMÓN Stranger things have happened. A pandemic, a Cheeto for president. Lolita the loca’s gonna be a doctor – LOLA Okay, okay, just don’t try to do any ghost hunting, alright?

RAMÓN Te prometo.

Lola and the Zoom call fall away as Ramón turns off his light. He tries to get some sleep…

But he hears some shuffling sounds in the hallway, accompanied by a low humming.

RAMÓN Who’s there?

2

Eteya Trinidad

eteyavi@gmail.com

The humming gets louder as the hallway flourescents flicker.

RAMÓN Nurse? Nurse?

LA PLANCHADA appears glowing in the hallway, wearing a crisp white nurse’s uniform from the 30s. She sings to herself (“La Historia de un Amor”) without acknowledging Ramón.

LA PLANCHADA Que le dio luz a mi vida, Apagandola despues, Ay! que vida tan obscura, Sin tu amor no vivire.

RAMÓN (under his breath) La Planchada.

LA PLANCHADA Quien me llama? Who dares call my name?

RAMÓN (timid) …Yo, señora. Me llamo Ramón.

LA PLANCHADA Ramón. What is it you want?

RAMÓN I’ve heard stories of your kindness and healing powers in the afterlife, señora. I even passed them on to my niece.

LA PLANCHADA I’ve since retired from miracles.

RAMÓN

3

Eteya Trinidad

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But señora, I’m very sick from a virus with no cure. Won’t you help me?

LA PLANCHADA Why should I? All my life I served men: doctors and patients, even my brothers. Now I’ve been relegated to heal them in the afterlife? What kind of an existence is that?

RAMÓN I beg for your help, Planchada.

LA PLANCHADA DON’T CALL ME THAT. The Ironed Lady, named after my nursing uniform, always so fresh pressed. How would you like to be called after what you wear?

RAMÓN Forgive me, señora. I used to know your name before death, but it’s been a long time.

LA PLANCHADA Honestly, I can’t remember either. I’ve been a ghost longer than I was ever alive.

RAMÓN That must be hard for you.

LA PLANCHADA It’s torture. I rack my brain for memories, but all I can do is wander from hospital to hospital, and sing forlorn ballads about a lover I don’t even remember.

RAMÓN At least you’ve got the classics. Most songs these days sound like these oxygen tanks in a boxing match.

La Planchada laughs. It’s the first time she’s done so in over a decade. Ramón joins her, but falls into a coughing fit.

LA PLANCHADA How about this, Ramón. I will come back tomorrow night. If you can give me another reason to heal you, I will perform mis milagros for you.

RAMÓN Thank you, señora. May I ask, what was the first?

4

Eteya Trinidad

eteyavi@gmail.com

LA PLANCHADA You made me laugh. It makes me think you are kind. Do not prove me wrong, Ramón.

RAMÓN I won’t, señora. Te prometo.

La Planchada glides away. Lola appears on a new Zoom call.

LOLA You’re not looking so good, tío. Have you had breakfast yet?

It’s suddenly daytime again. Ramón is looking a lot worse than yesterday.

RAMÓN Lola! You won’t believe it –

Ramón stops to cough. It turns into a wheeze.

LOLA Can you read out your monitor to me? Remind me what meds you’re on – RAMÓN No lo importa. Lola, I saw La Planchada last night.

LOLA What?

RAMÓN De veras, right outside in the hallway – she was singing to herself, and she was glowing – LOLA Tío Ramón, be serious. Have you seen a real nurse today?

5

Eteya Trinidad

eteyavi@gmail.com

RAMÓN I’m telling you, La Planchada – LOLA Okay, you saw La Planchada. Did she say when the doctor’s coming back?

RAMÓN You used to like my ghost stories.

LOLA Yeah, when you weren’t lying in a hospital bed. This is serious stuff, tío. With the hospitals so crowded, if you’re not advocating for yourself – RAMÓN Don’t worry about me.

LOLA What else am I supposed to do? They’re talking about rationing care to only priority patients. They gotta know my Tío Ramón is a priority.

RAMÓN I know you care, mija, but I’ll be okay. La Planchada is coming back tonight to heal me.

LOLA That’s not funny anymore.

RAMÓN I’m not trying to be. La Planchada said she would. I talked to her, I even made her laugh!

LOLA Tio, stop it.

RAMÓN I’m not trying to upset you, Lola. You should be relieved! I’m going to be okay.

LOLA No, you’re not! I’m not a doctor yet, but I know that your cough sounds awful, you look like your fever’s gotten worse, and now you’re hallucinating?

RAMÓN It’s no hallucination, Lola. It was real. Have a little faith in the viejito, would you?

LOLA 6

Eteya Trinidad

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I can’t – I can’t deal with this right now. I’ll call you back later, okay?

RAMÓN Lola –

Lola hangs up. Ramón lets out a sigh, and struggles to keep his eyes open.

Darkness falls on the hospital. La Planchada approaches. Ramón is in bad shape.

LA PLANCHADA (singing) Ya no estas mas a mi lado corazon, Y en el alma solo tengo soledad, Y si ya no puedo verte, Porque dios mi hizo quererte, Para hacerme sufrir mas. (she arrives at Ramon’s bed) Ramón, it is time.

RAMÓN Si, señora. (he coughs before he starts) I do everything I do for Lola, my niece. Her father wasn’t around growing up, so I helped raise her.

She’s a bright one, señora. She worries too much, but a bright one. She’s studying to be a doctor out in California, and I’m helping with her tuition. She needs me, and so I beg for your help.

LA PLANCHADA I see. Ramón, you’re a very caring man, but I fear you have not understood what I asked you for.

RAMÓN How so?

LA PLANCHADA I thought you’d bring me my story back.

RAMÓN But what about Lola?

7

Eteya Trinidad

eteyavi@gmail.com

LA PLANCHADA You don’t think every man in this room has loved ones? I’m sorry, Ramón, but it is not enough.

RAMÓN Señora, please! Wait –

La Planchada turns to go as Ramón’s screen lights up. Lola on the Zoom call.

LOLA Planchada!

LA PLANCHADA Who calls me?

RAMÓN Lola?

LOLA His name was Dr. Joaquín. He was a new doctor at the hospital, already engaged, but he took an interest in you and broke your heart. Afterwards, you fell into a deep depression, and started neglecting your tasks. When a patient died under your care, you died soon after from the grief.

But before the doctor, you were a caring and beloved nurse, terrific at your job. You were respectful, polite, and always well appreciated by your patients.

Your name was Eulalia.

LA PLANCHADA (weepy) Eulalia.

LOLA Yes. LA PLANCHADA Gracias, Lola. I feel somehow lighter. You’ve given me my life back, and so I will return the favor.

Ramón, hold out your hands.

Ramón holds them out. La Planchada holds her hands to his, and starts to sing.

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Eteya Trinidad

eteyavi@gmail.com

LA PLANCHADA Siempre tengo la razon de mi existir, La curacion para mi fue religion, En sus brazos olvidada, Pero ya no soy perdida, La vida es mi pasion.

La Planchada and Ramón glow together until Ramón’s breathing steadies.

RAMÓN Gracias, Eulalia.

La Planchada fades away.

RAMÓN Lola, you remembered the stories?

LOLA Of course, tío. They were my favorites. Not to mention, I have a better memory than a sick viejito.

RAMÓN Not sick anymore! I feel great! I can even tell my jokes. Like, why didn’t the taco cross the road?

LOLA Why? RAMÓN Because he was too chicken!

Ramón laughs without coughing. Lola laughs too.

9

Eteya Trinidad

eteyavi@gmail.com

LOLA Es un milagro. I’m sorry about earlier, tío. I was worried about you.

RAMÓN I know, Lola. Te quiero mucho.

LOLA Te quiero mucho.

La Planchada sings in the hallway.

LA PLANCHADA Es la historia de un amor, como no hay otro igual, Que me hizo comprender, Todo el bien, todo el mal.

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