and now it's sooner still

fake collaboration, waiting for godot, obscure references

June, 2005.

A Hypothetical Play in One Act

It is a fairly average day and two young women are slowly traveling in circles. Susie wears a worn pair of roller skates and Jenn chews on an unlit tobacco pipe and holds a metal detector. They are looking at the ground and appear to be searching for something.

SUSIE: When I was a kid, I used to look for coins on the street because I didn’t have friends.
JENN: Coins are better than friends - they can be exchanged for goods and services, and they don’t usually talk.
SUSIE: That’s true. If I had had friends, I might have had to share my findings with them.
JENN: Well, I’ll admit that communism works in theory –
SUSIE: In theory.
JENN: – but it requires an inexhaustible love for mankind.
SUSIE: It’s not very conducive to our misanthropy.
JENN: Mankind in general has proven itself unworthy time and time again of my compassion. I don’t want to help these people! Throws pipe to the ground. Why should I want to buy the world a goddamn Coke? Begins violently smashing the metal detector into the concrete, destroying it. That world is a fascist snake pit of deception and –
SUSIE: Okay, I get the point.
JENN: Sorry, I just get so… you know.
SUSIE: I know. Just, Jesus, stop breaking things. The girls shift their focus back on their search for coins. A minute or so of awkward silence passes.
JENN: It’s sunny, at least.
SUSIE: A fine day for roller skating. And metal detecting, but I guess you ruined that for yourself.
JENN: No matter. All is well in the world. A quiet beeping is heard from Jenn’s digital watch. Oh, finally! She takes a pill container from her pocket and tosses contents of Monday into her mouth. She takes a heart shaped metal flask from the other pocket and washes them down.
SUSIE: Um, forgive me for asking, but – She stops suddenly as they notice a morose and filthy looking man approaching with a shopping cart full of eccentric items and heaps of trash. A rain cloud follows the man, and he and his cart are very wet.
MAN: (in a hoarse whisper). I’m leaving. Man then begins to laugh loudly, startling the girls, who react by throwing their collected coins at him. The man is in turn startled and quickly gathers the coins and runs away, laughing abjectly.
JENN: See? Capitalism at work. Jenn climbs into the cart, which is still being rained on. She covers her head with an old newspaper and begins to play sad accordion music as Susie rolls the cart along in the rain. Jenn begins to rummage through the other objects. He has a lot of trash in here. Digging around. Ew, Beckett! Tosses the book out of the cart.
SUSIE: (retrieving it). Don’t do that! We might need some tips later.
JENN: Oh, you’re right. Sorry. Hey look, he has the plague! Holds up a dog-eared copy of Camus.
SUSIE: Oh my god you’re clever.
JENN: What?
SUSIE: Nothing.
JENN: Oh Jesus. Looks frightened, holds up a large book and reads the title. The Secret Plot To Kill The Homeless.
SUSIE: Oh Jesus.
JENN: It wouldn’t be so secret if he didn’t keep it buried under all this crap. You know, I think it’s really tragic how such important things end up with morose, dirty people who don’t share them.
SUSIE: Maybe he’s just protecting his most prized possessions. It’s the American way. Is there a gun in there?
JENN: Probably. Digs through the cart, tossing objects over the sides – clocks and maps of different makes and sizes.
SUSIE: He has a lot of… time.
JENN: And… place.
SUSIE: I wonder what he’s up to.
JENN: You never listen. Hey look, dice! We’re finding so much today. Rolls them over and over in her hand. Watch alarm beeps again, and Jenn takes more pills from Tuesday this time with the flask contents. I think I need to get out of here. I feel trapped. Climbs out, begins pushing the cart instead.
SUSIE: That’s ironic.
JENN: What?
SUSIE: Nothing. Yanks the old newspaper Jenn’s been using as an umbrella over to her own head.
JENN: Wait. She snatches it back, reads quickly. The classifieds! Free stuff!
SUSIE: Ooh, anything good? Broken typewriters? Mexican blankets? I’d prefer blue.
JENN: Let’s see… soiled mattresses… a used left arm cast… Heavy sigh. I don’t want this stuff, do you? Before waiting for a response, she tosses the wet newspaper back into the cart but continues pushing it. Susie shrugs. The watch alarm beeps again. Yess, this stuff.
SUSIE: (hesitant). Um, what stuff?
JENN: (removing flask and pills from pockets). This stuff! Want some? Sharing is caring.
SUSIE: I thought you were into capitalism.
JENN: Only when I’m depressed. Hands Susie the flask.
SUSIE: (takes a swig and looks confounded, then condescending {alternatively: perplexed, then patronizing}). This… isn’t alcohol.
JENN: (dazed). What?
SUSIE: This isn’t alcohol. It’s apple juice.
JENN: (taking the flask from her with little to no care). Well, you know what they say – one man’s apple juice is another –
SUSIE: No one says that.
JENN: I do! Takes a long pull from the flask. You know, I don’t like it when you judge me. Takes some pills from Wednesday, washes them down and staggers a bit to the side. Susie grabs her elbow.
SUSIE: Are you okay? What are those?
JENN: (slurring). Wednesdays! Try one. Hands a pill and the flask to Susie. Susie is clearly skeptical but takes the pill anyway. Jenn looks at her expectantly.
SUSIE: That’s a sugar pill. Where did you get those?
JENN: (quietly). Um, I’m not really supposed to say.
SUSIE: What? Are you paying for placebos?
JENN: Loose lips sink ships! Drinks from the flask, then gazes at it contemplatively. You know, my grandfather used to collect flasks.
SUSIE: What kinds?
JENN: All of them. He was an alcoholic. Drinks more. He got this for my grandmother for their 25th anniversary. He had a gold one specially made for their 50th. She was dead by then, though. Drinks again. She only drank juice.
SUSIE: (somewhat cautiously). That doesn’t seem terribly perceptive of him.
JENN: Well, what do you expect? He was drunk. All old people collect strange knick-knacks, and most of them are significantly less useful than flasks.
SUSIE: My grandfather collected bookshelves. Those are useful. He had a bookshelf room in their old house.
JENN: You mean a library?
SUSIE: No, a bookshelf room. He was bibliophobic.
JENN: Oh… how tragic. His whole life?
SUSIE: No, just in old age. But he never liked to read. I think I’ve heard that as you get older, you become more and more yourself.
JENN: Mark Doty says that drugs make you more yourself. Maybe being old will be like being on drugs. Then I won’t have to buy these anymore. Fondles plastic container lovingly, then puts it and the flask away.
SUSIE: You buy those to be more yourself?
JENN: Isn’t that why we do everything?
SUSIE: No, I don’t think so.
JENN: What are you saying? Wait, how am I not myself?
SUSIE: Those aren’t drugs. You’ll probably get real drugs when you’re old.
JENN: I’ll need them more then.
SUSIE: Really? I’ve always imagined that it gets easier with time. Desensitization through the mundane and repetitive act of living each day.
JENN: Maybe that’s why old people are capitalists – they’re all depressed.
SUSIE: Maybe we shouldn’t be ourselves.
JENN: (frightened). Then what should we be?
SUSIE: I don’t know. I can’t think in this rain.
JENN: I want answers, goddamnit. Rolls dice over and over in her hand, almost compulsively.
SUSIE: That’s ironic.
JENN: What?
SUSIE: Nothing. Well- shined dress shoes enter, walk over to the girls, who gaze up at them. The morose and ragged looking man leans down and they see that he has cleaned up and is wearing a gray suit. He smiles at them.
JENN: Why are you so tall?
MAN: (laughing). Why are you going in circles?
JENN: (confused). What?
SUSIE: (looking around, realizing their predicament). Oh shit, this is terrible. We’ve walked ourselves into a goddamn hole.
The man stands up and walks off stage, still laughing.
JENN: What should we do?
SUSIE: I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do…
JENN: But what should we do?
SUSIE: Crap, crap, I don’t know, I just said that, I don’t know what to do.
JENN: I’m sorry. What should we do?
SUSIE: I don’t know! You’re freaking me out.
JENN: But we have to do something.
SUSIE: Quiet, shhh. Quiet. Just let me think.
JENN: But you can’t think in this rain.
SUSIE: Oh my god, I can’t think in this rain.
JENN: (desperate). I think we should go further.
SUSIE: What?
JENN: We’ve already gone quite far.
SUSIE: A line allows progress, a circle does not.
JENN: (elitist). When did you get so emo?
SUSIE: (emo). Just now, I think. I think I need to get out of here. I feel trapped.
JENN: But we can’t! We have to get to the bottom of this. Digging in the mud. Drop the emo thing and start thinking logically. Who knows what we might find down here!
SUSIE: Nothing.
JENN: What? Hits a water main and their rut begins flooding. Susie takes off her roller skates and the girls tread water.
SUSIE: Well, that works, more or less.
JENN: We were wet anyway. Her tobacco pipe floats by and Jenn wipes it off and puts it back in her mouth. The girls swim toward the shopping cart, which is inexplicably floating, and climb in. While Susie searches the cart and surrounding water for a map, Jenn fashions hats from pages of Camus. She puts one on her head and one on Susie, who at precisely this moment finds the correct map under her foot. Jenn tosses Beckett overboard, then realizes something. Wait – shopping carts don’t float.
SUSIE: Shh! He’ll hear you.
JENN: Okay, okay, sorry. God. Rolling dice in her hand.
SUSIE: Hey, did you ever find that gun? The girls and shopping cart float offstage in a befitting awkward silence.

Curtain.