by James Hunt
Customer:
I'm sorry, did you say something?
[The cashier has been piling the customer's unending groceries in the same paper bag but it appears to remain empty.]
Cashier:
That's it, I'm calling a manager. I can't take another narcotics distribution charge on my record!
[Customer takes receipt and nods to james and crew and waltzes casually out the doors abandoning the empty bag full of groceries. The alarm sounds as he steps past the doors (black curtains rigged as an exit to the store) and 3 gorillas in cop outfits tackle the customer to the ground and all remain motionless and silent on the ground for the remainder of the drama.]
james:
Oh shit... It's getting serious.
Phil:
They're on to us now... Hurry, empty your pockets before they realize they got the wrong ass hole!
Zach:
Did someone say something about getting the wrong ass hole? I did that once. She was pissed.
[Pause awkwardly for audience laughter, even if there is none. The gang empties their pockets very obviously onto the gum shelf as the cashier watches them with a huge grin of mindless corporate friendliness. 3 cans of tuna, 4 matchbooks, 2 steel flamethrower lighters, a packet of Trident citrus gum (containing Xylitol), a tube of non-drowsy formula Dramamine and nine glow sticks of varying color.]
Cashier:
Hello, how are you today?
Cashier's detached voice:
I know exactly what you are going to do with this cold medicine?
james:
Oh do you now?
Cashier:
Excuse me?
Cashier's voice:
Yes, and little do you know or expect but I have informed my supervisor of your whereabouts.
Phil:
[whispered in james' ear] James, what in the flying fuck are you talking about?
james:
I can't carry on in this fashion, take over lieutenant Phil!
Cashier:
Is he going to be alright?
Cashier's voice:
Come back here boy and face your fate! HELL!
james:
AHH! Fuck fuck fuck... gotta go...go...
[Manager lowered slowly from above using a series of suspension cables and squeaky pulleys. Never fully letting his feet touch the ground, and he is spinning around, not looking at anyone directly.]
Manager:
Is there a problem here?
Cashier:
No, sir, just ringing these three gentlemen out now, sir.
Cashier's voice:
Yeah! The poofy haired fucker over there is yelling something fierce about hell and jail!
james:
I'M UNDER CONTROL!!!
Phil:
He's fine, he's just been avoiding his medication lately...
[Manager eyes the Robotussin and raises an eyebrow suspiciously at the suspects.]
Manager:
Carry on...
[Exit Manager stage upper left (up to the left).]
Cashier:
I'm going to need to see some I.D.s, boys.
Cashier's voice:
Time Boeing through feed new key cum I.V.s Toys!
james:
What?? Are you being serious right now? Who put you in any form of authority?
Cashier:
I'm sorry it’s required by law I make sure you are all at least eighteen... I think cuz there's alcohol in this stuff... or something...
Cashier's voice:
GOD DID!
james:
[whispered to Phil too loudly] Are you getting all this? She thinks she derives her authority from god!!
[Phil slaps james across the face.]
Phil:
Bite your tongue sir! Thou shalt not speak ill of my lord!
[They show the cashier their I.D.s along with each of their prostate glands, pay $2.78 each and leave without their tuna and glow sticks.]
[The actors exit stage front (through the audience and out of the theater) and place guns to each of their heads (loaded) and pull triggers.]
“Well that was pretty good, I think. It pretty much captured the idea of the paranoia that the common Corocidin King would feel when making a purchase at the local WallyWhirled. It illustrates the judgmental stares perceived by the junky from the employees and the humorous obliviousness of the casual every-day customer. It was a common thing to be purchasing bottles of the shit after midnight when only one cashier was checking customers out, and it was often the same person. They had to be catching on to our little game. At one point the workers followed us around the store as we yelled about tripping our nuts off and inquiring very loudly where the glow sticks were located. I especially liked the ending where the actors playing my partners and myself killed themselves in the theater lobby... fucking genius! BRAVO BRAVO!”
* * *
Drama of the Waitress...
Setting: A single table in the middle of the stage with chairs taller than the table. A sign above the table says 'RoboBar' in an unimposing font.
Characters:
The Waitress- Blonde. Chubby girl of 20ish. Loud and obnoxious. With a forced and slightly pathetic hint of innocence.
Gary- A large male (or female, if proper testosterone treatments have been administered) with a red face and an angry disposition. Gorillas are an ideal candidate for this part.
james- Skinny, skeletal shell of a human being. Pupils that can be seen from space. Twitchy, loud, annoyingly high pitched voice.
Jerry The Fly- A fly. Annoying. Always present. Gnats and certain species of beetles acceptable replacements. Centipedes completely unacceptable.
jAMES
I KNOW YOU!
GARY
Who are you talking to?
jAMES
WAITRESS!!
WAITRESS
Oh... Hi, james...
jAMES
So, Doug... What are you doing tomorrow?
GARY
Did you just call me Doug?...
WAITRESS
Can I get you ladies anything to drink?
jAMES
Water... WITH LEMON!...
on second thought...
just water, I can't afford the lemon.
WAITRESS
Sorry, we're out of water.
JERRY THE FLY
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
GARY
I'll have a Delsyn on the rocks.
WAITRESS
Gum Drops or Skittles?
GARY
Skittles please.
[EXIT WAITRESS]
jAMES
Wait... What was I saying?
GARY
When? To Whom?
jAMES
Just then. Before that dumb
bitch interrupted us.
GARY
Oh, right. The only thing I have
tomorrow is an appointment for my car.
jAMES
Wait... What?
GARY
Car Appointment.
jAMES
Huh?! I can't understand you!
Your mouth matches not your voice.
GARY
Appointment for my car.
Well, I'm sure my mom will do it.
jAMES
Something something
about your mom?
GARY
What?
jAMES
I didn't quite catch that.
GARY
What didn't you get?
jAMES
Like... The whole thing.
Something about your mom?
GARY
Oh, I have to take my car to the hospital
to get it healthy again, but I think
my mom will do it for me...
jAMES
Wait, where?
GARY
The Honda Dealership.
jAMES
OH!!!....
[pause]
So... What you're saying is that
you're
not doing anything tomorrow?
GARY
[pause]
Pretty much.
[LONG AWKWARD PAUSE]
jAMES
....anyway... where's that dumb bitch at?
WAITRESS
Uh...Here you go...
[to james, pissed about his comment]
are you sure you don't
want your usual?
jAMES
Nah, I'm already pretty zonked.
Clearly.
WAITRESS
Yeah... so what have you been
up to lately?
[Immediately losing interest.]
jAMES
Oh ya know... the usual... hookers,
bankers, and drinkin' Bud Light like
any other good American. Yourself?
WAITRESS
Working.
JERRY THE FLY
What?
jAMES
You like working here at the RoboBar?
WAITRESS
I'm so geeked out.
[pause]
Here's your bill.
[EXIT WAITRESS]
jAMES
Damnit...
she billed me for the damn lemon.
GARY
I'll get it for you, don't worry 'bout it.
So... We should pick up Kristal...
jAMES
BRILLIANT!
GARY
That fucking bitch stole my blank CD
again.
[EXIT STAGE RIGHT]
* * *
THE COP OF BRATENAHL
CAST
The Cop: Douche Bag. (Depending on the acting capabilities of the actual douche bag, a literal interpretation may be made here, at Director's Discretion.)
Gary: Composed and calm, obviously NOT intoxicated.
james: Drunk into a near coma, but not belligerent for once.
Daniel: Mexican, obvious pothead. Stoned (it's best if the actor is so high that he no longer realizes he is taking part in a drama).
Dane: Animal Rights Activist with a sign draped around his neck that reads, “[I DID NOT JERK OFF MATT ON ROBO].”
Timmy: Emo skater kid (Emo swoop and tight pants) with a pair of glasses, you know, the ones with the attached mustache and huge nose.
SETTING
Five chairs positioned at an angle on the stage that reveals all characters. Empty beer cans and bottles of liquor on the floor all around their feet. Chairs arranged like the interior of a vehicle. Gary is in driver's position, james in front passenger. Daniel, Dane and Timmy are in the 3 rear seats in no particular order.
GARY: What is this? The Gilded Age? MOVE YOUR ASS! [Yelling at imaginary cars ahead.]
jAMES: Whatsdateven MEAN? (Obvious drunken slur.)
DANIEL: The Gilded Age is the time period before the progressive era in the late 1800s and early 1900s in American history... Dumbass.
[Entire car bursts into malicious laughter and james hangs his head in embarrassment.]
DANE: I can’t believe we got ripped off trying to buy this shit. (Shows 3 nickel bags of marijuana.)
GARY: HA! Yeah, it ain't even 'dro like I asked for... Bastard took off with my money.
DANIEL: Holy shit, I'm rolling face... and drunk as shit. Wow... Good night so far. (Loads up beer can bowl and sparks it. Exhales smoke.)
[Cop lights go off all over the theater.]
DANE: HOLY SHIT, WE'RE GETTING PULLED OVER!
GARY: Damnit... (Pulls over.)
jAMES: What're you doing? Are we home? Wait... I think we're getting pulled over guys...
[Cop enters stage left, walks up to james's window, and waits for james to drunkenly roll down window. Smoke pours out.]
COP: Where the weed at, boys? Do you have any idea how fast you were going? NINETY FUCKING MILES AN HOUR! Are you boys stoned?
[Daniel crushes can bowl and throws it into the massive pile of other cans, Dane eats the remaining bags of weed.]
jAMES: No weed, dude...
COP: I'm not your dude!
JAMES: Sorry, dude...
COP: If you call me dude one more time I’m going to fucking arrest you!
[Dane smacks james in the back of the head.]
DANE: Shut up, dude, stop calling him dude!
COP: Everyone out of the car! Stand over there in a line.
[Everyone gets out staggering and stumbling, except for Gary who is perfectly collected.]
COP: If I find this weed, you are all going to jail. (Searches car.) I just found 20 empty boxes of Robotussin in your trunk. You dumb fucks on robo?
DANE: WHAT??? NO!
COP: Whose car is this? A Mr. james?
jAMES: Me.
COP: And why were you letting this drunken madman drive your car ninety miles an hour?
jAMES: I'm too drunk to drive...
COP: (To Daniel) Is he your brother?
DANIEL: WHAT? WHY? CUZ I'M MEXICAN?
COP: Excuse me?
DANIEL: Nothin...
COP: NO! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?
DANIEL: (under his breath) I said, 'is it cuz we're both not white...'
COP: THAT'S IT, YOU LITTLE STONER FUCK! (Handcuffs Daniel and Gary and shoves them off the front of the stage onto their faces, breaking their teeth in.) We're impounding your car, fucker!
THE END
The following is an excerpt from the journal of Mr. James Garcia, friend of Mr. Hunt's:
“OK here's my current situation... I am grounded because my dad found out about my car being impounded from our shenanigans 3 days ago. Now I’m sitting here bored as crap wondering what to do with myself as I have no job, no car, no friends (due to grounding) and no fun... So I figured I would write away my boredom but unfortunately due to my state of extreme slacking and unmotivation I will only do enough writing to accomplish what is needed of me and that is all. So I will probably finish up this page then be done with it even though I have much more time to kill... But then again that’s how I operate. Only doing enough to get by... the rest of me is devoted to doing butt loads of nothing... I'm seriously thinking about going on a trip... but I think I will finish my project first... maybe... probably not, knowing how much of a fuck up I am...”
Fat Phil
I'm awake. Good god it's hot in here. I need to lose weight. No I don't, I like my nickname. I like 'Fat Phil.' Makes me feel like a 50's gangster. No it doesn't, that's stupid. Jesus, what time is it? Don't say Jesus like that... It’s blasphemous. Sorry god. god... Holy shit, it's ten in the goddamn morning. Fuck. This isn't good. I've got thirty minutes to get ready and get to work... Where's that useless faggot? What am I paying him fifteen dollars a week for anyway? Like he's ever there to give me a ride when I need one. At least I'm already in my work pants... When was the last time I took these off and washed them? I can't even remember. What am I talking about? I can barely remember what I did last night. Robo. Yeah, that's what I did. Oh yeah, I almost died. Damnit, my arm is killing me. HEART ATTACK. Its a fact that robo puts your body into stage II Hypertension. It’s a fucking fact. Here I am doing it every damn night when I KNOW that I have heart problems. No, shut up. It's all in my head. Where are my Tums? They don't help. No amount of Tums can stop this aching in my heart. That's a good line. Write that down. Clever. DAMNIT! My fucking arm! Oh man... I can't go to work like this! I can barely get out of bed with this pain. No one believes me. It makes it so much worse. Why won't anyone believe me. HA! That fucknut doctor at the hospital asked me if I ever think about killing myself. I don't have time to worry about killing myself, I'm too worried about dying! It's one thing to kill yourself. And a whole other thing to just die. To die because of too many drugs. One too many binges. Lets see... first there was the Corocidin binge... then the cocaine binge then there was the duster binge, now I'm stuck in this hellish binge with james. That bastard. I can't keep up with him, he's killing me. My brain feels funny. HOW CAN I FEEL MY BRAIN, IT HAS NO NERVE ENDINGS? Why is everythin
g blurry. Oh god Jesus fucking Christ. I'm going to hell for that one. Why do I insist on blowing my girlfriend off when she's so ready to blow me off? Oh that's good too, write that down. But seriously, I go with james instead? To do what? Drink cough syrup. That's classy. Who am I kidding? I don't have any class... I work at fucking Burger King. I don't have a car. My dad's a belligerent drunk. I think I've spent all my money on this stupid binge. What do I have to show for all this? Where's my break? I just want to live, you sons of bitches. My girlfriend... god is she hot. Can't believe I scored her... Oops looky-there, I got a boner. Maybe I can just rub one out real quick like, before work. I'll just text james and tell that fucker to pick me up real fast. He better wake up. OK, here I go. OK, girlfriend, girlfriend, yeah, oh yeah, I'm sticking it in her ass, oh yeah, she loves it, she likes it hard, she's moaning, she'sOH GOD MY FUCKING ARM!!! FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK! No, don't cry Phil, its perfectly normal for an eighteen year old to have his masturbation interrupted by the pulsating pains of a heart attack. HYPERTENSION STAGE II: FACT. Thank god, james is awake. Shit, he's cranky... Says he just got to sleep. That kid is fucked up, I swear to god. OK, but he's gonna pick me up, thank fuck that kid's favorite drug is an energetic one, or I'd never get around. So I figure I could try to whack off again... DON'T CRY PHIL! I should try to get some Corocidin for work... Is that even a good idea? HYPERTENSION! No... Definitely not. I'm scared of this world. It's alright. I hate sleeping here by myself. I deserve this feeling, I really do, and I bring it upon myself. It won't always be like this. Just give me a little time, and I promise I'll straighten out my mind. I'll fix myself. Later. I just got out of high school, the time is NOW... to get fucked up. Have fun! I should start drinking again. But every time I drink, I end up getting robo... There's nothing like a good seizure to blue strobe light with Mindless Self Indulgence blaring madly. god, I love that feeling. Love. Damnit. Girlfriend. Damnit. I don't love her. I don't love anything. I'm broken. But I need her, because she can make me feel love again. REALLY! Have I destroyed all my emotion? Did I have any to begin with? Am I still in bed? REALLY? Fuck. At least I have work. I'm going to get promoted and then I'll be able to boss around those sad motherfuckers who have no lives other than that pathetic little fast food joint. Those dirty, scummy, inbred sons of... I'm hungry... I think... I haven't felt my insides in months, I think. This is ridiculous, how long does it take to drive from that fucker's house to mine?! Seriously. He's probably wanking it over that stupid bitch of his. She is a bitch... I guess. She's pretty hot though. She looks 13. I'd fuck her. Yeah! Oh yeah! She'd get off having a real man inside her. That skinny bastard can't satisfy her like I could. Oh yeah! FUCK YEAH! Shit... my FUCKING ARM!!! OK seriously, I have GOT TO STOP CRYING! Pull it together, you're a man. Death. We laugh at death! WE EGG DEATH ON! What about that girl... With the fucking kick ball... Emily... Jesus, that can't be normal. Can it? Paranoid Schizophrenia. Hallucination. HYPERTENSION STAGE II. She just wants me to play with her, is that so wrong? Maybe she's a ghost. Man I could go for a good trip right now... I get the feeling I'm pissing james off with my dying and all... especially when we're tripping. I think he's tripping with his ass hole friends again. Daniel... I hate that fucker... cocky son of a fuck. Gary hates me. I'm sure of it. They're just dumb pieces of shit. You selfish son of a bitch, james, why would you fucking destroy me then just go and trip with some other junkies?! He's good for nothing. Runs away from all of his problems. That's his problem. Jealousy? Repress that. It's childish. WHERE THE HELL IS HE? Why does my arm hurt? The doctors say it’s all in my head. Anxiety, they say. Fuck them. They don't know pain. HOW CAN THIS PAIN NOT BE REAL?? Pain. Agony. Suffering. Death. I feel the blood firing through my veins. I feel my insides shift without feeling them. What does that mean? I am attracted to little girls. Why is this? I think it's in my genes. It's a hereditary affliction. It’s not my fault. Part of the poverty-trap package. Discount in aisle FUCK. Shit! Oh, it’s just my phone. james is here, and about fucking time too. Alright, time to get up, for real this time. OK, so far so good. Grab my undersized book bag. It's more like a purse really. MAN UP! OK. BK hat, check. Phone, check. Last weeks pay check, check. Gotta cash that sucker so I can Tussin up tonight. Hope james is down. Oh he'll be down, if not Zach will be, but I'd rather not hang out with that kid unless james is around too... Zach freaks me out. Horny fucker. He'd fuck me if I had a... well... yeah, he'd fuck me. OK. Out the door. Lock it. Shit, I forgot my key... Fuck it. I don't need the key, I'll break in. I'm not even in sight of “our” car, but I can already hear the Mars Volta. Trippy shit. Not sure if I like it when I'm sober though... just makes me want Tussin. I need to get to work. My arm. Death. god, I swear if I make it through this day, I won't ever use your name in vain again. Wow, he looks rough. Pissed too. I don't get him, can't function at all in the morning, without Dex in his system he'd sleep till god knows when. Fuck.... Sorry god. Get into the car. He's not saying anything. Is he pissed at me? Wait... What happened last night? Did I do something stupid? No... He's just cranky in the morning. Right. I tell him I'm dying... He laughs. FUCKING LAUGH IT UP, ASS HOLE! I'm sure he'd laugh at my fucking funeral. Jesus! Can't I catch a fucking break here?! No sympathy for the dying – less for the barely living I suppose. I don't know what that means. Am I a simple creature? He's assuring me I'm not dying. How would he fucking know! He's just like the doctors. Cocky, too sure of himself and his own diagnostic abilities! I have more medical facts in my left testicle than he does in his entire being. When I was little, I thought it was Human Bean instead of human being. I think. Sometimes I can't decide if a memory is mine or if it's his. Sometimes I can't decide if he's real. Or maybe I'm the one who's not real. I ask him what the odds are that I am in a coma right now and none of this really exists. He assures me that if anyone is in a coma it’s him. All he ever talks about is himself. He thinks his memories are so fucking important! FAILS TO REALIZE, I have my own god damned memories! HE IS THE FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION, not the other way around. How could I be thinking these things if I was just living in his head? Oh Jesus, What if he's write? Write? Did I just misspell something in my head? Jesus. I'm not THAT bad of a speller, am I? Hell no, in fact I'm a damn good speller. MY FUCKING ARM. HYPERTENSION! STAGE II! PAIN. He's talking, what is he saying? PAIN. I can't concentrate. PAIN! Check my vitals. OK, there's still a pulse. Thank fuck. PAIN. OUCH. FUCKIN' OUCH. Triple bypass. I don't know who my real father is. PAIN. I can't tell a difference between my fantasies and real life. PAIN. I want to be dead, but I don't want to die. PAIN. I just want to fuck. FUCK! PAIN. FUCK PAIN. Fuck the pain away. That sound about write to me. FUCK! RIGHT! FUCK RIGHT! Fuck right now. PAIN. FUCKING. DRUGS. I didn't trip with james last night did I? No... I was alone... Don't cry Phil... Don't cry...
