by Jake Wizner
Olivia nodded, feeling a surge of hope. “So what do you say?”
He continued reading. “What kind of music would you want?”
“Mostly rock, I think, but it doesn’t all have to be one style. You could look at the lyrics and tell me what you think.”
He leafed through the pages until he got to the first song and started to read more carefully.
“Plus,” she said, “for some of the songs I might use music that already exists, so it shouldn’t be too much work.”
“I don’t know,” he said, eyes still on the page. “I guess I could try.”
“You will?” she said excitedly. “You can keep that copy. It’s the whole first act.”
The door opened, and Max entered. “Now that was a fantastic dump I just—” He noticed Olivia and pulled up short, a look of horror washing over his face.
“Charming,” she said.
“You have to warn me when we have company,” he said to Zeke.
“She just showed up.”
“So,” Olivia said, standing and grinning hugely, “do guys always talk about their bowel movements like that, or is it just one of your own little idiosyncrasies?”
“No, it’s pretty standard fare,” he said, recovering. “Like the way girls always talk about their periods.”
She laughed.
“Then again, boys sometimes talk about girls’ periods, too,” he added.
“Jesus,” Zeke mumbled, turning away.
“Let me ask you something.” Max’s voice took on a playful quality. “Is it true that if a group of girls lives together for long enough, they all start having their periods at the same time?”
“No,” Olivia said. “I’m pretty sure that’s just a myth.”
“Really? I thought it was like some hormonal thing.”
Olivia opened the door. “Well, if we all start to menstruate together, I’ll be sure to let you know so you can stay far away.”
She walked out, and once she did, Zeke looked at Max and shook his head. “Do I really need to see that?”
Max shrugged. “She started it.”
Zeke put the script Olivia had given him on his desk facedown.
“Have you seen The Shining?” Max asked.
“Yeah, why?”
Max took on the voice of Danny Torrance. “Redrum. Redrum. Redrum.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Zeke said with a laugh.
“All right, which would you choose?” Max asked. “Being stuck with Jack Nicholson in The Shining, or being stuck with a group of girls all having their periods?”
“Jack Nicholson. Definitely.”
“I’d take the girls,” Max said. “I’ve heard they’re hornier when they’re having their periods.”
“You’d have sex with a girl when she’s all bloody?”
“Definitely. It would be nice and lubricated.”
“You’re out of control,” Zeke said, sitting on his bed and beginning to finger the strings on his guitar.
Max watched him for a moment. “I heard a story about a guy who went down on his girlfriend while she was having her period.”
Zeke stopped playing. “That’s just nasty.”
“You know that book Twilight?” Max asked.
“I’ve heard of it.”
“It’s about this vampire who hooks up with a teenage chick. They never do more than kiss, but I was thinking if he ever went down on her while she was having her period it would be like winning the fucking lottery.”
“This is what you spend your time thinking about?”
“It’s like that old commercial,” Max said. He began to sing the jingle: “Two great tastes that taste great together—Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.”
Zeke shook his head and began to play a blues riff.
“Hey, you know what would be hilarious?” Max said, his eyes lighting up. “If we wrote a song and sent it to the author.”
Zeke smiled and continued to play.
“I’m serious. Do you know ‘Sunday Bloody Sunday’?”
“The U2 song? I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“Do it. I’ll add lyrics.”
Zeke nailed the chords immediately, and after listening for a few seconds, Max jumped in and began to improvise. They went through a few rounds, and then Max pulled out his notebook and wrote what he had come up with.
“Okay,” he said to Zeke. “Let’s try from the beginning.”
I met a girl named Bella Swan
She had her period
She had a tampon on
Told her
Told her she could take it out
Told her to take it out
’Cause tonight
I will drink your blood tonight
Other drinks, they never quench my thirst
But bloody Bella makes me want to go headfirst
I go crazy for her smell
It must be heaven
But I’m going straight to hell
Bella, Bloody Bella
Bella, Bloody Bella
Bella, Bloody Bella
Zeke played a little closing riff and gave a final big strum to top it off, snapping his D string in the process.
“Fuck,” he said, unwinding the broken string.
“So how come Olivia was here?” Max asked. He hadn’t seen her much the past few days and had started wondering whether she was purposely trying to avoid him.
Zeke pulled the string loose. “She’s writing a musical and wants me to do the music.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know. I fucking hate musicals.”
Max laughed. “So, what’s it about?”
Zeke rifled through his guitar case. “I only read the beginning.”
“Are these the songs?” Max asked, picking the sheaf of papers off the desk and flipping it over.
Zeke nodded. “She left it for me to read.”
Max carried it to his bed and sat down. “You mind if I read it?”
“I don’t care,” Zeke said. “I don’t know about Olivia.”
Max began to read and his eyes popped wide. “Holy shit,” he said, laughing. “She was asking me about this the other day.”
“What? About fucking sheep?”
“Uh-huh,” Max said without looking up.
Zeke watched for a few moments, and then grabbed his keys and wallet. “I’m going to Cutler’s to get another string.” He walked to the door. “Just leave that on my desk when you finish.”
Max looked up briefly, nodded, and returned to the script. Reading Olivia’s work felt intensely intimate, like peeking inside her head without her knowing. Was Jane supposed to be her? It would make sense, and then Amber could be based on Mimi. The boys were more difficult. Who acted like that? Was it possible that he could be Dick? He continued to read, and felt his excitement rising as he moved through the second scene. Dick was using his words, the exact same ones he had used with Olivia a few days earlier. And now, here were Dick and Jane starting to fall for each other. Did it mean that Olivia actually liked him? That all her talk of not wanting to get involved wasn’t, in fact, true?
He came to the end and immediately went back and read the whole act through a second time. Maybe he was reading too much into it. It’s just a play, he thought, and the whole thing could be entirely made up. Still, it was surprising that Olivia was writing a love story. And wasn’t it supposed to be true that art imitated life? It would be interesting to see how the plot developed.
* * *
Upstairs in the girls’ suite, Olivia was wondering the same thing. Now that Zeke had agreed to try writing music, she was eager to push on and get a few more songs finished. Opening her notebook, she scrawled SONG IDEAS on the top of a clean page and began jotting down some thoughts:
Mimi burst into the room. “Oh my God,” she said, “you’ll never believe what happened in class today.” She slipped out of her flip-flops and came up beside Olivia. “We were doing this activity where we had to become someone else
in the room, and Callie chose Max, and it was so funny because she was flirting with all the girls, and then she went up to the girl who was playing me, and they, like, pretended to make out. And Max was playing the teacher and he started pretending that it was getting him really horny and he started to say, ‘Oh, yeah, baby,’ only he did it in the teacher’s accent, and we all started cracking up, and even the teacher thought it was funny.” She finished talking and plopped down on her bed.
“Is he really that slimy, your teacher?” Olivia asked.
“Ewww, no. That would be so gross. He’s like fifty years old.”
The same age as my father, thought Olivia grimly. She had a sudden image of her father flirting with Mimi and felt like she might be sick.
“Have you ever dated someone older?” she asked.
Mimi considered the question. “I went out with a senior my sophomore year, who took me to the prom. And I’ve hooked up with some older boys, but I didn’t really date them.”
“How old was the oldest guy you ever hooked up with?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t really know. I kissed this guy at a party who said he was in college, but I think he might have been older. He was kind of a jerk, actually.”
“What happened?”
She shook her head ruefully. “He got angry because I wouldn’t sleep with him. The whole thing was stupid.” She got up from her bed and walked into the bathroom, leaving Olivia to imagine the story for herself.
CASTRATION CELEBRATION
Act 2, scene 1
(The same setting as the beginning of the play. Loud voices and laughter. Amber comes running onstage, with Charlie, who looks to be about thirty, chasing after her.)
CHARLIE: Where are we going?
AMBER: You’ll see.
CHARLIE (stopping and catching his breath): I’m worn out. You’ve been running me around all night.
AMBER: Aren’t you having fun?
CHARLIE: I need a cigarette. (takes one out and lights it)
AMBER (coming over to him): You know you shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you. (takes a cigarette from his pack, then takes his lit cigarette and uses it to light her own)
CHARLIE: But you smoke anyway.
AMBER (inhaling, then exhaling smoke): I do a lot of things that are bad for me.
(They stand there smoking.)
CHARLIE: You still haven’t told me your name.
AMBER: Does it matter?
CHARLIE: You’re something else, you know that? You could make a guy crazy chasing after you.
AMBER (dropping her cigarette and pressing up against Charlie): What about you? Am I making you crazy?
CHARLIE (taking her head in his hands and kissing her hard on the mouth): You’re making me insane.
(They begin to kiss more passionately. Amber pulls away.)
CHARLIE (confused): What’s the matter?
AMBER: I’m going home now. Good night. (She starts to walk off.)
CHARLIE: Wait. (He catches her by the arm.) What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?
AMBER (shaking her head): I’m just tired.
CHARLIE: Well, let me walk with you at least. (He puts his arm around her.)
AMBER (shrugging off his arm): Don’t.
CHARLIE (angrily): What the hell? You don’t throw yourself all over a guy, and then just walk away.
AMBER: Look, Charlie, you seem like a nice guy. So don’t be an asshole, okay?
CHARLIE: Me? An asshole? You’re the asshole. What’s your problem, anyway?
AMBER: I’m an asshole.
CHARLIE (shaking his head): You’re lucky I’m a nice guy. One of these days you’re gonna get yourself into some serious trouble acting like that. Goddamn cock-tease. (Walks off, nearly bumping into Jane, who has just walked onstage. Jane sees Amber and hurries over to her.)
JANE: Who was that guy?
AMBER (in no mood to talk): Nobody. Just someone I met tonight.
JANE: He looked angry.
AMBER: He’ll get over it.
JANE: How old was he? Thirty?
AMBER (shrugging): Maybe.
JANE: Jesus, Amber. You better be careful. One of these guys might be a serial rapist or something.
AMBER: He was harmless. He had a Mickey Mouse key chain.
JANE: He’s probably a pedophile.
AMBER (angrily): Why do you assume that anyone I go out with is some kind of criminal? You think your precious boyfriend is the only nice guy out there?
JANE (stunned by Amber’s outburst): No, of course not. I’m sorry, Amber, I was just kidding around.
AMBER: Well, it’s not funny. (She starts to cry.)
(Jane steps forward and hugs her, and Amber continues to cry into Jane’s shoulder.)
JANE (gently): It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.
AMBER (gathering herself): I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
JANE: Do you feel like talking about it?
AMBER: I’m fine.
JANE: You sure?
AMBER (nods and forces a smile): What about you? Didn’t you go out with Dick?
JANE (smiling): We went bowling. I got a strike and two spares.
AMBER: Hey, you’re getting pretty good.
JANE: Well, Dick finally showed me the right way to hold the ball.
AMBER (smiling lasciviously): I’ll bet he did.
JANE: Oh my God, you’re so perverted. Tell me again how we’re friends.
AMBER: Oh, don’t act all pure and innocent. You and Dick have been all over each other for the past three weeks.
JANE (blushing): We have not.
AMBER: Yeah, right. Holding hands in the hallway and kissing by the lockers and cuddling on the couches in the lounge. It’s like, get a room already.
JANE: Is it really that bad?
AMBER: It’s nauseating.
JANE: Oh God. I’m turning into the kind of person I used to have nightmares about.
AMBER: Relax. It’s kind of cute, actually. I mean, two people so in love.
JANE: Shut up.
AMBER: I’m serious. Love is a hard thing to find these days.
JANE: What are you talking about? You fall in love almost every day.
AMBER: That’s not love. And every guy I’m into turns out to be a disaster.
JANE: You know what I think? I think you purposely chase after guys you know aren’t right for you so if things don’t work out you won’t get hurt.
AMBER: Is that your professional opinion?
JANE: You don’t agree with me?
AMBER: No.
JANE: So what do you think, then?
AMBER: I think when I was born, my father made a deal with the devil. He could screw around all he wanted, but I would be cursed never to find true love.
JANE: I thought you said your father was the devil.
AMBER: Good point. Maybe I’m just unlucky.
JANE: You think?
AMBER (starts to sing):
“Unlucky in Love”
They say that love is blind
And it must be true
Because each time I try to love
I end up black and blue
Must love be so painful
So full of push and shove
I guess I’m just unlucky
When it comes to love
I fell for Mel,
His smell cast a spell,
But oh it was hell
Let me tell you
When I found him in bed
With a fellow named Fred,
Said he wanted to try something new
I might have been willing to stay
But he brought home a new guy the very next day
Oh, I’m unlucky in love
Yeah, I’m unlucky in love
You know Tiny Tim,
Well, it sure wasn’t him,
Dim, yes, but most well-endowed
Hung like a horse,
Oh the brute force,
When I lay back and h
ad my fields plowed
If only he wasn’t so dirty
If only his IQ was more than thirty
Oh, I’m unlucky in love
Yeah, I’m unlucky in love
Why can’t I find a guy
Who’s worth my full deposit
No skeletons in the closet
Has everything I need
I want a guy to buy
I’ve had enough bad rentals
I’m starting to go mental
I want to plant some seeds
Stan had a van
And a Florida tan,
What a man, if he only had hair
I had to abort
A courtship with Stuart
When I found a wart you know where
I dated Tom, Rick, and Harry
One loved his mom, one was sick, one married
Oh, I’m unlucky in love
Yeah, I’m unlucky in love
I’m unlucky in love Yeah, I’m unlucky in love
JANE: What’s the big deal if a guy loves his mom? That sounds like a good thing.
AMBER: Not the way he loved her.
JANE: Ewww. Don’t tell me.
AMBER: One time he called out her name while we were—
JANE: Stop. I don’t want to know.
AMBER: Do you think there’s something wrong with me, Jane?
JANE: What do you mean?
AMBER: I’m always throwing myself all over guys I barely know. It’s like I need sexual attention to feel like I have any self-worth, but I always end up feeling more depressed and miserable. You saw how I was tonight. (puts her head in her hands) It’s like I’ve turned into a female version of my father.
JANE: You’re nothing like your father.
AMBER: Oh God, I don’t want to see him if he’s home tonight. Can I sleep at your house?
