FIRST WRITER: Justin Maxwell

Setting: The Brick theater in Brooklyn.
Time: Now.
Characters (2m/2f):
The HANDSOME MAN: A man who is very handsome, and possibly smart.
The GORGEOUS WOMAN: A woman who is gorgeous, and has issues with quarters.
The AVERAGE MAN: Not much to look at, but fairly self aware.
The AVERAGE WOMAN: Not much to look at, but fairly reasonable.

Lights rise to reveal The Brick theater. Bare stage. The HANDSOME MAN enters.

HANDSOME MAN
This is The Brick!
And this,
is a brick.
They are fundamentally different;
although both can ruin your evening.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
(entering)
Both can ruin your evening, if applied inappropriately.
But don’t worry;
The Brick sells beer up front.
And they sell it cheap.

HANDSOME MAN
(dismissive)
When I say “fundamentally different,”
I mean different ontologically and epistemologically,
because I am both handsome and smart.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
That’s true.
Fortunately, he is both handsome and smart.
No one wants to see ugly people act.

HANDSOME MAN
Fortunately, everyone likes nudity.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
Think this through.

HANDSOME MAN
You get on the train.
This is a train.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
You travel to a whole other borough.
You give some volunteer twenty fucking dollars.

HANDSOME MAN
This is a volunteer,
probably a fat volunteer,
holding your twenty fucking dollars.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
You’ve done all this, because of the sales pitch: contains nudity.

HANDSOME MAN
This is nudity.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
Then you get actors who are doughy, or stubby or . . . unwaxed.
Who even lets unwaxed actors through acting school?
(beat)
Everyone likes nudity in the right context.

HANDSOME MAN
After all, this is a brick.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
No. This is The Brick.
And these are my fantastic breasts.
You could bounce a quarter off these things,
but please don’t.

HANDOMSE MAN
You really can.
After all, this is the breast.
Or, equally true, this is a brick.

AVERAGE MAN
(entering)
You know, if we get too see her breasts, we’ll sell more tickets later in the run.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
We won’t sell more tickets.
This is the The Brick.

AVERAGE WOMAN
(entering)
He is the average man.
Of course he wants to see her breasts,
for him, they’re a novelty.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
I am way out of his league.

AVERAGE MAN
She is the average woman.
We are playing against the law of averages.

AVERAGE WOMAN
You have a much better chance of seeing my breasts.
But that’s purely statistical.

GORGOUS WOMAN
She’s right. Psychologically, it’s really just as easy to see mine—once you account for the smaller percentage of occurrence.

HANDSOME MAN
This is a brick.

AVERAGE WOMAN
This is not The Public;
they can afford nudity.

AVERGAGE MAN
I am an ATM Machine.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
Really.

AVERAGE MAN
I’ll give you your money back.

HANDSOME MAN
The Brick won’t.

AVERAGE MAN
I’ll give you most of your money back. Minus a transaction fee.

AVERAGE WOMAN
This is a subway train; I’m content with being average.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
This is the G Train.

HANDSOME MAN
This is the L Train.

AVERAGE MAN
They stop at your favorite ATM.

AVERAGE WOMAN
If you get off at the wrong stop, the world unfolds away from you.

AVERAGE MAN
If you stop at the right stop, the world unfolds towards you.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
I am not the right stop.
In case you had your hopes up.

HANDSOME MAN
This is a right stop.

AVERAGE WOMAN
We are an unfolding.

HANDSOME MAN
This is a G Train

GORGOUS WOMAN
Today I am not wearing Versace.

AVERAGE WOMAN
Neither am I.

AVERAGE MAN
Me neither.

HANDSOME MAN
I was, earlier, but with a perfectly understandable reason.

GORGOUS WOMAN
With the right context.

AVERAGE MAN
I am not reasonable—it’s against the nature of average.

AVERAGE WOMAN
I’m pretty reasonable, but only a percentage of the time.
Within reason.

GEORGOUS WOMAN
Capitalism has done terrible things to my great breasts.
Capitalism has done terrible things to my mind, and these things make me connect my breasts and the throwing of loose change.

AVERAGE MAN
Like a wishing well.

AVERAGE WOMAN
Or a Keep Dreaming well.

AVERAGE MAN
Remember, this is The Brick.
All this changes with a good internet connection.
Or maybe a quarter.
(beat)
This is my quarter.

HANDSOME MAN
That’s a quarter.
It’s worth seven minutes.

AVERAGE WOMAN
Please don’t throw it at my breasts,
which are still pretty good ones, by the way.

GORGEOUS WOMAN
She’s right.
They are—as far as you know.
And you can trust me;
I’m an expert,
as far as you know.

HANDSOME MAN
They do trust you,
you’re gorgeous.

AVERAGE MAN
And they’re stupid.
(to audience)
It’s okay.
I’m stupid too.
Well, as the average man, I’m smarter than half of you.
But that’s still pretty stupid.
For example,
I have a vague inclination away from eating at McDonalds, but if I’m hungry, driving by, and willing to exchange coins for food, I don’t think twice.

HANDSOME MAN
This is the McDonalds.
Show it your tits.
It will give you a quarter.

AVERAGE WOMAN
What?
It only gave me a coupon for large fries!
Fuck this.

HANDSOME MAN
This is a brick.

END SCENE


SECOND WRITER: John DeVore

Lights rise to reveal The Brick theater. Bare stage. The HANDOME MAN, GORGEOUS WOMAN, AVERAGE MAN, and AVERAGE WOMAN are standing in the same positions as the earlier scene.

HANDSOME MAN
This is a brick.

Enter DEATH; he is shrouded in a dark cloak and carries a scythe.

HANDSOME MAN
This is a brick.

DEATH raises a skeletal finger and points at AVERAGE MAN.

DEATH
HONK!

AVERAGE MAN grabs his stomach in agony, collapses and dies.

HANDSOME MAN
This is. A brick.

DEATH points his skeletal finger at AVERAGE WOMAN.

DEATH
HONK!

AVERAGE WOMAN becomes a feather, floats to the stage, and dies.

HANDSOME MAN
This is a brick?

DEATH points his skeletal finger at GORGEOUS WOMAN.

DEATH
HONK!

GORGEOUS WOMAN becomes a beautiful ballerina. She pirouettes! Now she’s a ballerina on fire! She pats the flames out and dies.

HANDSOME MAN
This. Brick.

DEATH once again points his skeletal finger, this time at HANDSOME MAN.

DEATH
HONK!

Nothing happens to HANDSOME MAN.

DEATH
HONK!

HANDSOME MAN stands defiantly. He lives. Frustrated, DEATH stomps his feet twice, throws off his shroud, and reveals himself a brilliant and shining angel.

ANGEL
JUICY FRUIT! IT’S GONNA MOVE YA! IT’S GOT A TASTE THAT GETS RIGHT THROUGH YA!

The stage lights go down slightly and a spotlight illuminates HANDSOME MAN who steps towards the audience.

HANDSOME MAN
In High School, I made the drama club because I didn’t make the cut for the freshman team. I was painfully aware that no one gets turned away from the freshman football team. But there was no room for a pear-shaped mental case. Like any adolescent, I just wanted to belong. Because every teenager is, at heart, a fascist. Singularly concerned with social power. The thing about bullies and their victims is that a bully is just a victim who won the genetic lottery. Give a scrawny teenager an extra fifty pounds of muscle and a dram more of self esteem, and he’s a bully. I wanted to march in lockstep with a group. Form a phalanx with a small army of likeminded souls. Circle wagons. It’s the only way to survive in High School. There’s a brief window of time when it’s possible to teach the social skills that make a truly successful and happy human being. I’d say it’s the first three weeks of kindergarten. That’s all the time you really have to teach empathy and sharing and all those tools. If that opportunity is missed, then junior will most assuredly grow up to be an asshole, like mom and dad. So if you have kids, and they’re not in kindergarten yet, make sure to really hammer home certain lessons in those first three weeks of kindergarten, okay? Stuff like: don’t treat people like crap, share your potato chips, don’t point and laugh at tears. Basic stuff. If your kids are older, and you failed to sit them on your knee and continuously lecture them on the benefits of empathy during those first few weeks, then don’t worry. Chances are you’re an asshole anyway, and you won’t notice anything weird with your kids as they get older. Pus doesn’t ooze that far from the sore, after all. So I joined drama club because the other clubs required skills. You had to play an instrument. Or know how to play chess. You had to care about Jesus or be black. But drama club was where you could go if you were an emotionally-combustible, self-absorbed toad. A brittle, narcissistic attention leech, your heart’s desire being unconditional praise simply because you magnificently slithered out of your mother’s vagina. We were a tribe of Cheshire piranha, grinning to each other’s faces, then trying to eat the other once backs, or, I dunno, fins were turned. It was like any modern social group. We supported and sabotaged one another. Of course, there were the hormones. So drama club was an incubator of volcanic teenage lust. The first breasts I ever felt were actress breasts. Actress breasts are the best. Because an actress is a stripper who keeps her clothes on. They know how to use their melons. I never acted, preferring to help build sets and assist the stage manager, and during the plays, I’d hang out backstage. I think I liked being backstage because I liked hiding from people. The saying goes “if you can see the audience, the audience can see you.” I was never seen. Anyway, during one run of, um, You Can’t Take It With You, which is a play about a family and something happens and it’s stupid. But it was during this run that I fell in love with an upperclassman. An upperclasswoman? She played the daughter or something. I don’t know. She was beautiful; curly black hair, Jolly Rancher green eyes, delicate freckles eaten by dimples when she’d smile. I mean, I don’t know if it was love. I still don’t know what love is. Love is just brutish, animal possession with a positive attitude. But just being near her gave me a boner. But not a normal boner. Not the sort of boner that screams “LET’S DO THIS” and the only way to shut it up is to bury it in something, a couch cushion, pudding, a fist, someone else’s flesh. No. She made my boner glow. Like one of those glow sticks. One night, before the show, as everyone was telling everyone to “break a leg,” which means, in Latin, “Fail, so that I don’t have to,” she walked up to me, and my dick was incandescent. It was like ET’s heart in my jeans. I told her to break a leg, and she hugged me. Her hands on my back. Her neck on my shoulder. Her breasts pressing against my chest. She hugged me and for a brief moment, I knew total contentment. Time stopped, the chimney’s poking out of my heart stopping belching sulfur. I floated. I was a star, a celestial ornament hanging above the firmament. Toes wiggling. Worry extinct. She pressed herself into me, then through me, like a ghost falling through a loved one oblivious to the embrace. Maybe that’s love? Being someone’s blanket. Just wanting to keep that person warm. Accepting that sometimes you’ll be balled up at the foot of the bed all day. The hug lasted a moment and she moved on, that beautiful girl, and even hugged that one smelly retard with the hunchback. The lights went out backstage. She went onstage. The lights went on, then off again, and I never saw her again. She had a boyfriend. She was popular. She graduated. Sometimes, even here at The Brick, as I’m standing backstage and the lights go down, and I wait to go on stage, I have to cover my crotch. Because my boner starts to glow. Dark theaters remind me of her. And my penis shines like a lighthouse, hoping she’ll see it, and find me, and hug me, and my knee won’t ache, and we’ll be young again, and float, like a balloon tied to a brick, its string cut.

Lights down. Suddenly, a green glow stick glows. Lights up on a curtain call. HANDSOME MAN, GORGEOUS WOMAN, AVERAGE MAN, AND AVERAGE WOMAN bow to one hand clapping. The one hand keeps clapping, they bow again. Enter a man, THE DIRECTOR, who claps for the cast, then turns to the audience to address them.

THE DIRECTOR
Thank you, mom, for coming out to the final production of I WEAR A SHOE ON MY HEAD, A HAT ON MY FOOT, written and directed by me. I want to thank the cast, and the crew, which is also the cast, and I want to invite everyone to the cast party around the corner. The bar is offering an “artists” special, which is a three dollar glass of red wine and diet coke, so just tell them I sent you. Again, I want to thank you for coming and making this a very special closing night. After two years of workshops and rehearsals, and three performances, I just couldn’t imagine a more magical and fitting conclusion to our creative theatrical vision quest. I want to remind all of you, you, mom, that tomorrow night we have a couple of really exciting performances. First, there’s Hotel Rwanda: The Puppet Musical and at midnight, our very popular feminist burlesque cabaret DON’T YOU DARE LOOK AT THESE BOOBS, PIG. And of course, next week is the start of our new festival, the SHAKESPEARE WITHOUT VOWELS FEST. We’ve got KNG LR, and THLL and I’ll be directing the classic comedy MDSMMRS NGHT DRM. Check it out! See you at the bar!

The DIRECTOR CLAPS. The cast gets ready to leave. There is a casual commotion on the stage. AVERAGE MAN waves goodbye and exits. GORGEOUS WOMAN hugs THE DIRECTOR and as she leaves, HANDSOME MAN runs after her. They exchange words, and she exits. HANDSOME MAN hurries to follow her.

THE DIRECTOR
Can I talk to you? For a second?

HANDSOME MAN
Dude, I just told Jen that I’d meet her at the bar.

THE DIRECTOR
We’re all going to the bar. Just a moment?

HANDSOME MAN
Dude, she’s a hot waffle. I need my butter melting on that ASAP. Let’s talk at the bar.

THE DIRECTOR
You were… you were really brilliant tonight.

HANDSOME MAN
Yeah? Yeah.

THE DIRECTOR
I just wanted to… you know…

HANDSOME MAN
I am going balls deep in Jen tonight. That is truth. Burned into stone by the stink finger of God himself. Balls deep. I’m going to punish her clit tonight. Slap it, lick it, nibble that nubbin. I am painting her tits with my man jam. Gimme two hours: her feet on my chest, my pinky in her ass, her teeth marks on my forehead. I cannot wait. Let’s go to the bar. Let’s go to the bar. She’s there. Already. I can smell her pussy through the bricks. She wants me. Let’s go to the bar. Let’s go to the bar.

THE DIRECTOR
Yeah. You were really good tonight, but, you know, the ending of the play?

HANDSOME MAN
What? I nailed it. I was amazing.

THE DIRECTOR
No doubt. Yes. But…

HANDSOME MAN
But what?

THE DIRECTOR
I didn’t write it. Your… that… the monologue? I didn’t write that. The play is supposed to end with you, well, the way we rehearsed it? You eat a banana and then you stare out into the audience and you “see” the future? Remember? Like you did last night? You see the future and it’s beautiful and you say “It’s beautiful” and then lights out. But tonight... how, how did Charles know when to bring the lights down?

HANDSOME MAN
I told him that you were cool with everything. I gave him the cocktail napkins where I wrote my stage poem and promised to toke him up and that’s what’s up.

THE DIRECTOR
You lied to him?

HANDSOME MAN
I acted. I acted like a playwright-director.

THE DIRECTOR
You didn’t tell me.

HANDSOME MAN
You would have freaked out. You wouldn’t have let me. I need to express myself.

THE DIRECTOR
It was my play. I’m the director.

HANDSOME MAN
I have to share, dude. I got feelings… inside. They make me bloated. Facebook, Twitter, not enough. I needed more… room to express myself. Let it out.

THE DIRECTOR
It kind of ruined my… work.

HANDSOME MAN
It kind of made your work edgy. Unpredictable. It was collaborative. Passionate! Awesome. It was who fucking cares let’s go to the bar, I want to get my cock on with Jen.

THE DIRECTOR
Uh-huh. Yeah. She’s my girlfriend. You know that.

HANDSOME MAN
I didn’t know that. Does she know that?

THE DIRECTOR
For the past three years. We’ve dated.

HANDSOME MAN
No.

THE DIRECTOR
Oh yes. Yes. You’ve been over to our apartment, where we live together.

HANDSOME MAN
She definitely wants me. Does she grab her ankles? No, no. I think she’s secretly broken up with you. Her mouth says nothing, but her eyes say COMMENCE FUCKING.

THE DIRECTOR
Oh, wow.

HANDSOME MAN
Don’t be so bourgeois. Don’t be so heteronormative. Do you want to share? I’ll share. Check it: I’ll even take the butt.

THE DIRECTOR
No, no, no. Oh, God. We love each other.

HANDSOME MAN
What is love? Right? It’s a mystery. No one knows what love is, amiright?

THE DIRECTOR
Plenty of people, plenty of people know what love is. Love is… love is…

HANDSOME MAN
Yes?

THE DIRECTOR
Love is knowing, in your heart, that the person you love is dog, and stuffing your pockets with little plastic bags for the poop anyway.

HANDSOME MAN
Look. She’s going to fuck who she’s going to fuck? Got that?

THE DIRECTOR
Oh? Yeah. Is that… is that you being, um, you know, manly? Are you being manly now? You’re very macho, you know. Do you, um, do you have an extra pair of testicles? Does that explain how you have so much testosterone? Do they hang under your arm or something? Tough guy? Do they? Did you play a Marine once? In a play?

HANDSOME MAN
Asshole. It was an interpretive experimental dance piece about the Iraq War.

THE DIRECTOR
You’re so… so scary. And manly. Scary and manly. Stop clenching your girl fists because… because… Every hair on my body has just fallen off. From fear, you see? If I were to jump once and step away, I’d leave a ring of body hair. Like a dried out Christmas tree the day after Christmas leaves a ring of thistles? Just a ring of hair. Oh! Goodness! Gooseflesh!

HANDSOME MAN
I’m not going to fight you. That would be a waste of my noble rage. What I am going to do is walk to the bar, crack some jokes, and then, later, park my cockmobile inside your girlfriend. Why? Because that’s what she wants. We have Jedi mind fucked already. Welcome to the theater. There’s a reason why actors were reviled for centuries. Loathed by society. Banned from being buried in sacred places. Because we like to drink and fuck. Civilization has just caught up to the murder we’ve been getting away with since ancient times. Which is why actors, today, are awesome. Got it?

HANDSOME MAN turns to leave; THE DIRECTOR runs to The Brick theater wall and gingerly removes a brick from the wall.

THE DIRECTOR
Wait!

HANDSOME MAN
Christ on a triscuit… what?

THE DIRECTOR
This is a brick. This? This is a brick. This. Is. A. Brick.

HANDSOME MAN
The play is over, bro. Let it go.

THE DIRECTOR
This is a brick. This is a brick. This is a brick, and I’m going to smash your fucking face open with it.

HANDSOME MAN
LOL, bro.

THE DIRECTOR smashes HANDSOME MAN in the face with the brick. He does it again. HANDSOME MAN’s face explodes with blood. He falls to his knees

THE DIRECTOR
I’m going to kill you. I’m going to shit on your chest. Then I’m going to use your phone to call Jen. She’s going to come back to The Brick. I’m going to kill her too. I’m going to burn this fucking theater to the ground around me and laugh and laugh and laugh as everything burns.

THE DIRECTOR delivers the killing blow.

END SCENE


THIRD WRITER: Maggie Cino

DEATH appears, very slowly to low, ominous, music. Like Butoh slow. Time almost stops. The director stares down at the bloody, smashed in corpse in front of him, and then up at DEATH.

DIRECTOR
I thought you went with . . .everyone’s at . . . the bar.

DEATH slowly shakes his head and holds out his hand. The director dies. DEATH then stands quietly at the back of the stage. The GORGEOUS GIRL reenters, dressed in something mystical.

JEN
It worked!

AVERAGE GIRL reenters, except she has taken off whatever has made her average or put on something new and is now much prettier than the GORGEOUS GIRL. She is also mystically dressed.

JEN
Emily!

EMILY
Jen!

They run to each other, and hug and laugh.

JEN
Omigod, I was getting so sick of both of them.

EMILY
He was totally cheating on you.

JEN
With you!

EMILY
You said you didn’t care.

JEN
That’s true.

EMILY
We have to get them to the dumpster.

JEN
Those guys at Third Ward will totally rat us out.

EMILY
What else can we do with them?

JEN
Let’s just put them under the bleachers, there’s all kinds of crap everyone’s forgotten about under there.

EMILY
What about the alley?

JEN
A mob guy lives next door.

EMILY
Perfect.

She runs to the window at the back of the BRICK and pries it open

JEN
You are a fucking genius.

They drag the corpses, best they can, to the windows and get the bodies out as far as they actually, physically can. Please have this be absolutely realistic. Have them actually do it, rather than pretend they are doing it.

EMILY
(regarding DEATH)
What’s his deal?

JEN
He’s Death.

EMILY
Can’t he help?

JEN
Come on, he is like totally this mystical figure, we can’t ask him for help moving the corpses, that would be, like, asking George Clooney to take out your trash or something.

EMILY
Death! Can you give us a hand?

Death turns his head to her, but remains impenetrable.

JEN
You know what we need to do.

EMILY
The dumplings from M Noodle take like half an hour every time, everyone is going to wonder what happened to us and start texting and shit.

JEN takes out her phone.

JEN
Hi, yes, an order for delivery . . . dumplings, shrimp and chicken . . . and a veggie . . . steamed . . . ten minutes . . . yes.

EMILY
He doesn’t like the veggie.

JEN
I need to eat before we start drinking or it will be a short night.

EMILY
Let’s get started.

JEN
But we’re asking DEATH to do something totally beneath him and the dumplings aren’t even here yet.

EMILY
Come on.

The girls do their very epic, very mystic, ritual, and at some very awkward moment Danny Bowes walks in, naked.

DEATH
Danny Bowes naked is not part of this ritual.

JEN
Did you bring the M Noodle?

FOURTH WRITER: Cara Francis

DANNY BOWES
Why would I feed human food to hamsters?

EMILY
What?

DANNY BOWES
You’re my pet hamsters. Both of you.

EMILY
We’re humans. My name is Emily. It’s the most popular name for a human female twelve years running.

JENNIFER
Uh-huh. And Jennifer is also a very widely used female name. Human female...name.

DANNY BOWES
Common names, proof of common imaginations and sub-human intelligence. You’re hamsters. I’m a human. If you were humans, you would have noticed my nudity and been offended or curious. If you were humans, you would have—

JEN
Used a phone to call for delivery? Did it! That’s proof!

DANNY BOWES
Toy phone. One of the many things I populated your artificial environment with. Now, Hamster Jennifer, Hamster Emily
(pointing to death)
those are your poisoned pellets...

JEN
Huh?

DANNY BOWES
This specter of death you see is a pile of poisoned hamster pellets. I’m poisoning you because after you mated with my two male hamsters, you decided to kill them. I obviously can’t keep you as pets due to your violent natures. So eat death and die. They’re gonna shut my water off soon and I need to flush all these bodies down the toilet before that happens. You were horrible pets. My dick is a pop tart. And I need breakfast.

He exits, dick in hand.

DEATH
I think what he’s telling you is that your perceptions are unreliable. You don’t even know what you are.

JEN
I am a gorgeous human girl.

EMILY
I am an average human girl with beautiful elements. Such as a better brain than my gorgeous counterpart.

DEATH
I guess that’s how it goes. Usually. Or so you thought.

Removing hood of Death costume to reveal long witch nose, and producing apple from under robe.

DEATH (con’t)
I am a poisoned pile of hamster pellets.

JEN
(approaching apple with hunger)
What a beautiful apple—

EMILY
Wait! Um...If I were truly possessed of a better brain I would, uh...advise you to stop but...I am clearly in...conflict as to what I really am.

JEN
Yes...Something does tell me we should expect more than this....

Death pulls M Noodle takeout bag from under robe.

EMILY
Our food!

They eat the takeout and the apple.

JEN
This is too delicious to be unreal!

They stiffen and fall over with legs in the air, like dead animals. The legs of the dead men stiffen as well. Lights fade to black as DEATH raises arms in victory and spins with deafening sound of toilet flushing once, then a pause, then a second flush in the dark.

Lights up. DEATH and the bodies are gone. DANNY BOWES enters with an upturned garbage can covering the top half of his body. He holds a paper coffee cup over his dick. He bends over to shake his upper body free of the trash can while keeping the cup over his genitals.

DANNY BOWES
After ______* years of life it is obvious I need a series of new rituals. The way in which I understand things makes me tired. I am no longer excited by coke machines or ice cream trucks. I am not scared of cockroaches or lions. Or the mafia man living next door. Or unpredictable violence. So I have begun renaming things.

* Number should be customized to the actor’s age or character’s age as determined by the earlier parts of the play.

An actor from before reenters crosses to Danny.

DANNY BOWES
You are a lambskin condom. A giant walking lambskin condom.

Another actor reenters, crosses to the two of them. They begin to form a line.

DANNY BOWES
You are a widow in need of condolence. But no one here speaks your language well enough to comfort you.

Another actor reenters and joins the line.

DANNY BOWES
You are a giant poisonous spider living in the back of a congressman’s car.

Another actor reenters and joins the line.

DANNY BOWES
You are a little boy in a raincoat. I am a big bright shining star.

He looks down and into his coffee cup.

DANNY BOWES
No. No that part was a lie.

DEATH reenters.

DANNY BOWES
You are still death. That never changes, does it?

DANNYexits.

LITTLE BOY
Since I became a little boy in a raincoat I have very little fear of death. Every day seems to take forever.

The WIDOW in need of condolence falls weeping to the little boy’s feet. She takes him by the shoulders and kisses his face, touches his hair, all the while sobbing and speaking in incomprehensible gibberish.

WIDOW
Aya! Mari fa grina va! Sla! Sla! Bolasego. Bolasego. Mess.

GIANT LAMBSKIN CONDOM
Mess? Did you say mess? I am capable of dealing with this. Since I became a giant lambskin condom I have learned to contain myself. Pour your emotion into me. I will trap it and we can throw it away. We can hide it in the trash like we are ashamed we were ever sad together. We can double bag it and throw it away in a different room, a different house, a different city if you’re ready to get away.

SPIDER
I imagine, now that I am a poisonous spider in the back of a congressman’s car, a much brighter future for myself, a future where I make headlines for something, something violent for a good, good reason.

DANNY BOWES reenters, wearing a giant trash bag.

DANNY BOWES
I am evidence that every person can be the puppeteer of their own existence. I want the little boy to get a terrible cold.

THE LITTLE BOY sneezes. The WIDOW shakes him.

DANNY BOWES
One the widow cannot cry out of him.

He sneezes again. The WIDOW backs away.

DANNY BOWES
I want the widow to die. She has suffered too much. She’ll bring sadness with her everywhere she goes.

DEATH approaches the WIDOW. She smiles into DEATH’s face, transfixed and happy. DEATH offers a hand. The WIDOW and DEATH dance to PHISH’s RIFT, beginning at 2:14 and continuing through the end of the song. The dance is a quick combination of dainty stepping and seventeen (or more) dizzying turns one after the other that ends with DEATH lowering her from an extension turn into a deep dip. She collapses into his arms, dead. DEATH drags her out.

DANNY BOWES
If you imagine your own death again and again, you will be able to live it out as it kills you. You, giant lambskin condom...you hide your secrets. You are the congressman in the back of the car. You, giant poisonous spider, add more things to your list than you cross off. I leave the two of you and the boy to challenge each other.

He exits.

SPIDER
We are the inhabitants of a dream.

GIANT LAMBSKIN CONDOM
What happens to the inhabitants of a dream when the dreamer abandons his pillow?

LITTLE BOY
We fight. Or die. Or succeed. At something. Or fade away. I’m the youngest. I can’t imagine any sort of end for myself.

He sneezes. Beach House’s Lover Of Mine plays as all three pull out Poland Spring Water Bottles full of water and unscrew the caps for the first 5 seconds of the song. (**Email cara@nynf.org for a video or instruction of this dance. )

At 0:06, they hold the bottle high in their right hand and shake it downward four times in four beats, with open mouth of bottle facing the audience, from up right to down left, then, keeping it in the same hand, from up left to down right four times in four beats. For the next seven counts, they twist it in a circle around their heads like a lasso, bringing it down, facing the audience with open mouth on the eighth count.
They then repeat this sequence with the left hand holding the bottle, spinning it around over their heads and then splashing it back and forth rapidly then splashing it in their own faces.

They then take hands and do a sidestep in a circle, bringing hands up and down as they spin faster and faster, until they all fall down.

END SCENE


FIFTH WRITER: James Comtois

SPIDER
He’s coming to.
They remain on the floor.

SPIDER
Congressman?

The sound of an EKG.

SPIDER
Congressman?

The three stand up as the actor playing DANNY BOWES is wheeled in on a bed or cot, hooked up to IV tubes. GIANT LAMBSKIN CONDOM (DOCTOR), SPIDER (NURSE) and LITTLE BOY (RICK) stand around him.

The actor who played DANNY BOWES—who’s really TOM—wakes up and looks at the three people around him. He looks frail and tired.

NURSE (SPIDER)
How’re you feeling, Congressman?

TOM
Are you all really here...?

DOCTOR
We are.

TOM
Not...a hundred percent sure what you’re giving me...but it’s giving me some wild dreams...

DOCTOR
I bet. Now, your aide is here to see you. If you’re still feeling a little groggy....

TOM
Oh, no. It’s fine. Rick. I’m glad you’re here.

RICK
Tom. I got here as soon as I could.

TOM
Thank you.
(to the DOCTOR)
Now, Doc. Could we...?

DOCTOR
Of course. We’ll be back later.

NURSE
You bet. And Congressman, if you need anything...

TOM
(indicates his call button)
I know how to reach you.

NURSE
Great. We’ll be back.

The NURSE and DOCTOR exit.

TOM
Thanks for coming so soon, Rick.

RICK
I didn’t mean to wake you.

TOM
No, it’s fine. I needed to see you.

RICK
Having some weird dreams?

TOM
You have no idea.

RICK
What happened in your last one?

TOM
Oh, it’s already fading. Something about two girls I had crushes on in high school were hamsters, and I told them they were the ones that had to die. Think there was a sentient lambskin condom in there somewhere, too. Wonder what my brain’s trying to tell me there.

RICK
Who’s Danny?

TOM
What?

RICK
You kept mentioning Danny in your sleep.

TOM
No idea. It’s gone.
(thinks about it)
Lived with a guy named Danny Bowes my sophomore year of college. Maybe he was there, too. I don’t know.
(pause)
I remember Death was there. Big surprise.
(pause)
I’m not gonna make it.

RICK
Oh, come on, now, Tom, you really shouldn’t—

TOM
—I’m not trying to be cynical or nihilistic here. I’m just coming to terms with this. I’m not gonna be walking away from this.

RICK says nothing.

TOM
I think you should come to terms with this, too. Everyone else needs to start accepting this.

RICK
Tom...

TOM
I’m not even scared. Isn’t that funny? I think I’ve been scared of death my entire life. Always imagining it, and always convinced that it would be awful and terrifying. And now that it's here...all I can think of is, “Huh. This really isn’t so bad.” It’s now just a waiting game. And all because of that stupid fucking spider.
(pause)
Well, no. I would’ve wound up here either way. I just wouldn’t have ever known about my condition until much later had I not been rushed in to deal with that spider bite. It’s also weird that...you’d think I’d be much more concerned about Butler taking over my seat, but...

RICK
Now, we don’t know about that for sure.

TOM
Oh, come on, Rick. Let’s not be dumb on top of sentimental. Sure as we know I’m not gonna make it past the month, we both know Butler’s going to win in the emergency election in a landslide. It’s fine. Really.

RICK
Well, maybe for you! You’re dying! What do you care?

Silence. RICK looks appalled at his own outburst, while TOM looks impressed.

RICK
I’m...sorry. That was...

TOM
That was great is what it was. Hot damn, Rick. I didn’t know you had it in you!

RICK
(still embarrassed)
Yes, well...

TOM
I knew I made the right decision.

RICK
Sir...?

TOM
Now, listen. We have some very pressing matters to attend to, and time’s become a factor. Very soon, the vultures in my family will tear through here and unleash all sorts of chaos. This is why I asked for you to come here first.

RICK
You sure this can’t wait—

TOM
—I’m sure. Pay attention.
(pause)
In my will...

RICK
Oh, Jesus...

TOM
I have named you beneficiary for two things from my estate. Don’t get excited, it’s not money.

RICK
What is it?

TOM
Well, the first is my collection of Amazing Spider-Man comics. No one else in my family cares about them and I’ve noticed you scouring through them during your lunch breaks.

RICK
Oh. Well, I don’t know what to—

TOM
—The second item will ensure that Butler will never take over the seat in my district.

RICK
Really?

TOM
Upon my death, you'll be given the combination to a floor safe in my house. It has multiple photos of Butler at a boys’ brothel just outside of town.

RICK
What?

TOM
Plus receipts.

RICK
Well how come...why didn’t you use all that during the campaign?

TOM
Clearly I didn’t need to.

RICK
Yeah, but—

TOM
—And there’s another thing.

RICK
What other thing? Don’t tell me I have to let Alicia read the comics....

TOM
No. It’s not that.

RICK
What?

TOM
About this boys’ brothel...

RICK
You own it.

TOM
I own the hell out of it.

RICK
Jesus Christ, Tom...

TOM
But fuck it. Use this information how you’d like. I’ll be dead, soon, so what do I care?

TOM’s WIFE, SON and DAUGHTER enter.

WIFE
Oh, my sweet swoofie! How are you doing today?

TOM
Oh, hey, guys. Come on in.

SON
How’re you feeling dad?

TOM
I’m all right, champ. I’m all right.

DAUGHTER
(to RICK)
Fuck are you doing here, comic book guy?

END SCENE


SIXTH WRITER: Richard Lovejoy

RICK
What am I doing here?

DAUGHTER
Yes, that is what I asked just now.

RICK seems to be restraining a laugh. He can’t help himself though and he just starts cackling. For way too fucking long. For like three minutes. RICK. Cackling.

SON
I don’t get it.

RICK
I’m doing this!

He pulls out a gun.

WIFE
HE’S GOT A KNIFE!!!

RICK
No I have a—

WIFE
He’s going to fucking stab us all!!!

RICK
No! This isn’t a—

TOM
Rick! Why the fuck are you threatening to stab my family?

RICK
I’m not threatening to STAB them, I don’t have a knife, I have a g—.

TOM
Yeah if you don’t have a knife, then I don’t have a rare combination of cancer and syphilis called syphilcer.

RICK
This is a gun! A GUN! I’m going to shoot you, Tom.

TOM
You would shoot a man with syphilcer?

SON
(as if trying trying to understand the word)
Shoot…

TOM
You’re going to… Kill me? But—

RICK
That’s right.

TOM
Why would you stab me at this point in time? I mean, wait a week. I’ll be plucking on a harp at that burrito restaurant in hell. Why choose now, when I’m barely hanging in there… Haunted by visions…

RICK
Perhaps this will answer your question!

RICK pulls off a wig, revealing almost exactly the same hair underneath. There are audible gasps from everyone on stage. TOM’s wife passes out.

TOM
BUTLER! I don’t believe it! BUTLER!

RICK
That’s right congressman, or should I say DEADgressman! Now, I know what you’re thinking—

SON
(screaming this line at the top of his lungs)
HE CAN READ MINDS RUN!!! GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD!!! AHHH!!!!!!

The SON flees—preferably screaming the entire way, never to be seen again. We can hear his screams fading away from outside The Brick.

RICK
You’re thinking… Have I been Rick all along…? Or have I kidnapped the real Rick, studying his every quirk… Mastering the art of becoming him… So as to better deceive you.

TOM
Well, I was sort of wondering that... But the latter option totally explains Rick’s mysterious three month disappearance. What have you done with him?

RICK
You know those pictures you have of me? They’re actually of Rick disguised as me at your club.

DAUGHTER
Club? Pictures? Know? At? Actually? Those? You? Disguised? They? ‘re? Of? Rick? Have? Of?

RICK
Your daughter is insightful Tom. You might as well spill the beans.

TOM
Hon, sometimes two grown men, one of whom is dying of syphilcer and another of whom was recently disguised as a different man entirely whom was in the employment of the first man—the sick one—occasionally need to vie with each other for political power through the use of complicated stratagems.

DAUGHTER
I think I understand Dad.

She stares at her father for a long, hard moment. Then she starts passionately kissing RICK (AKA Butler.) TOM is stunned. After a confusing and awkward amount of time passes….

TOM
Um…

Suddenly the DAUGHTER grabs the gun and begins stabbing RICK with it repeatedly.

DAUGHTER – I’ll teach you to threaten my family!

She stabs RICK over and over again with the gun; RICK reacts as if he is being stabbed with a knife.

TOM
JESUS! Alicia… You’re killing him! Stop! You don’t want—Oh dear…

DAUGHTER
I… I stabbed him with his gun.

TOM
I remember. It like, just happened.

Footsteps.

TOM (con’t)
(yelling)
SOMEONE IS COMING! HIDE THE BODIES!

TOM and ALICIA clumsily drag RICK and WIFE (whose name is actually Wife) into a corner. The DOCTOR enters again. She sees TOM and ALICIA holding the body.

DOCTOR
Congressman?

TOM
Er… Yes?

DOCTOR
Take a seat.

TOM looks at ALICIA; they put down the body of RICK.

TOM
You’re not going to call the press on me?

DOCTOR
Would you describe yourself as a lonely man?

TOM
Well, I have my family. And my constituents. And Rick. Though not the last one anymore.

DOCTOR
Death.

TOM
Pardon?

DOCTOR
I mean, you know it comes for you. In the end.

TOM
(unsure what she is getting at exactly)
Uh. Yeah. I mean. Right?

DOCTOR
Yes. Death comes for everyone, with the exception on non-decapitated highlanders. There is a moment of time, a very specific moment where you begin to unpack the baggage of your life. Do you follow me?

TOM
Not at all.

DOCTOR
You are born. Potential energy. Zip. Zap. Zop. You struggle against your demons. You escape. You get cancer. You get syphilis. In your case you get syphilcer. But in between there is the family you create or don’t. The choices you have made. And yet death. That family will die. And what about your constituents?

TOM
Oh, they’re boned.

DOCTOR
Are you sitting down Tom?

He clearly is.

TOM
I am.

DOCTOR
Good.

The doctor looks at ALICIA.

DOCTOR (con’t)
Give me that knife dear.

ALICIA hands her the gun.

DOCTOR (con’t)
Tom. There is a fever. From the moment this all began. A little after 3 PM. You had been making decisions. Choices, if you will.

TOM
Uh-huh….

DOCTOR
What do you remember?

TOM
I remember…

He strains. A memory from an event earlier in the play passes through his mind and he has a look on his face like he just figured something profound and disturbing out.

DOCTOR
Shhhh…. Here.

She puts the gun near him.

DOCTOR
I will leave you with this. You will know what to do.

TOM
What about Alicia—

DOCTOR
I will raise her. As if she was my own. I brought her into this world, and I intend to take her through, and then out of it.

TOM
Thank you.

ALICIA is on the verge of tears.

ALICIA
Dad….

TOM
Go with the Doctor, sweetheart. I’ve created a lot of beautiful things in this world. I put forth that legislation which enabled disabled veterans to avoid taxes on cable TV. I erased all the dialogue in my Spiderman comics, and replaced it with delicious middle-brow comedy. But the greatest thing I ever did was you. Wait. That sounded pervy. I mean, the greatest positive force I ever unleashed upon the cruel and unsuspecting world was you. You are the light. Follow in my footsteps. Or don’t. It is yours. Just don’t be lonely. I’ll be there, even though I’m not.

All three exchange significant looks. The DOCTOR escorts ALICIA out of the room, and comes back in right away.

She speaks the first line of the play (whatever that line is. Obviously I don’t know.) She speaks it with a reverential tone.

TOM replies with the second line of the first section of the play, using the same tone as the DOCTOR. The DOCTOR exits.

TOM takes a moment to contemplate the gun. He picks it up.

Blackout.

END OF PLAY