July 22nd, 2008 at 8:55 pm
(Scene)
Two men, plus Young Timothy, seated in an office
Dad - Fine, whatever, just level with me
Dr - Well, sir, it isn’t going to be easy. There is a great deal we’re going to have to correct before anything gets fixed, gets put back the way it should be.
Dad - Which would be? Listen, Doc, how much is all of this going to run?
Tim - To run? What does that mean dad?
Dr - It means cost, Timothy, I’m sure your father is wondering what sort of fees and equipment will be involved in fixing your teeth.
Tim - Golly, is it going to be a lot?
Dr - Well sure, there is quite a lot of work you need done young man.
Tim - [sniffle] T…too much?
Dr - Now Timothy, just because it’s a lot doesn’t mean it’s going to be too much. You can’t put a price on a good personal appearance
Dad - Hey, not so fast.
Tim - Dad, please
Dad - Now hold on Timbo, just ease up for a second while I talk a little shop.
Dr - Sir, I don’t exactly understand what you’re getting at.
Dad - I’m just trying to figure this all out. Just trying to put everything together, that alright?
Dr - Well I suppose so.
Dad - For you, Tim, is it ok if dear old Dad takes a second to ask some important questions?
Tim - [sigh] Yes, sir.
Dad - Excellent. So then you, Doc, are trying to tell me that you can’t put a price, blah blah blah, on old Tim’s mouth, which is great, but let’s break that down a little bit.
Tim - Break it down Dad? Can we please not break anything down tonight? You promised…
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April 8th, 2008 at 7:42 am
(Scene)
Enter two young men, around 20 years of age, standing alongside a pool, in the backyard of a nice, ritzy house. Each is in uniform, ruffled, unkempt jumpsuits proclaiming ‘Pip’s Pools’ in bright yellow lettering. Each stands completely transfixed, speaking in hushed tones, looking into the pool’s center.
Steve and Bryan, the pool boys, stand side by side. Bryan, being the larger, holds a long, teal pole with a net on its end, meant for catching leaves. Steve, for his own part, holds on to the bucket.
BRYAN
Steve, oh man, Steve…
STEVE
What?
BRYAN
(prodding the floating body softly with the pole)
Is he? Do you think?
STEVE
Is he what? Am I a doctor, I don’t know. He isn’t moving…
BRYAN
You don’t float like that, right? Face down and stuff.
STEVE
Yeah Bry, actually you do, I do it all the time, the water smells better that way.
BRYAN
Whoa, really? I always thought it smelled just, kind of, chlorine-ey. Pool smell, you know.
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March 17th, 2008 at 7:57 am
(Old, Scene)
Timmy:
Dad?
Dad:
Yes Timmy?
T:
Can I ask you a question?
D:
Of course Tim! Why don’t you sit down and tell dear ole dad what’s on your mind.
T:
Okay… um… Well it’s like this dad; I’m at school, right? I’m there every day; I do my homework, get good grades…
D:
Yes Timmy, and your mother and I are very proud of you.
T:
Golly, thanks, but stuff has been happening lately…
D:
Timothy, are you causing trouble at school?
T:
Heck no! I mean, shucks, you know I’d never cause any problems like that dad.
D:
You’re right Timbo, I was just kidding, I know you’re too bland for that.
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March 4th, 2008 at 9:46 pm
(Character Sketch, Scene)
Danger Dan the Danger Man dances so that he won’t get his ass kicked. DD dances with a beast of a fellow, a real gorilla mother fucker, decorated head to toe with hair. Unusual coloring, however, a disconcerting human silverback covered with coarse blonde locks.
The unnamed fellow drank like a maniac, which did not recommend his character. A real gem, the chap matched personality with appearance, mammoth and scary right to the core. DD wondered what to say to the guy pounding Appletinis on the edge of the bar. It was his stool, afterall.
‘my seat, man, my chair’
DD joined the man beneath the shade of a novelty umbrella, watching the wind stir his wheat-covered arm, watching for traces of tattoos, veins in blue and red. A number of thoughts occur here, wide ranges of questions, but DD forgets them all.
‘my seat, man, my chair. all my action’
Danger Dan intended to reclaim his place. Danger Dan got asked to dance instead. What’s a man to say? Which objections to raise, which to shelve, how to figure the format of the debate? Danger Dan doesn’t do the expected, however. Yes is your answer, DD, if you know what’s good for you.
‘yes. I do, I’m no hero’
Danger Dan spins round the floor in a lovely tango, caught up in a quick-stepping number which seemed a much better course than the abuse discretion might incur. The beat was fast, the bar mocking, but DD could not avoid the feel of the thing.
‘should I be settled? should they be soft?’
Danger Dan dances with a man, and is put at east by platinum mitts placed upon either shoulder. He sighs as he spins, and glances along the faces lining the edge of the floor. DD knows the damage done, knows who’s going home alone. A quick look tells him that much.
‘this is strange. that much is clear.’
Danger Dan disengages from the man, adjusts tie and coat and the buttons of his shirt. Returns to the bar in haste. Snapped fingers summon another round and DD begins to drown. The silverback begins to wander, prowling the bar and is gone.
‘a strange night.’
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February 13th, 2008 at 8:39 am
(College Work, Old, Scene)
The scene opens with two teenagers, a boy and a girl, sitting on the back row of a movie theatre. The pair are seated closely together on two ratty, fairly nondescript red movie theatre chairs. The armrests of the chairs have been lifted up, allowing the two to sit directly next to each other.
Johnny sits to the right. Unkempt hair characterizes a generally messy nature befitting a young man of some 16 years of age. He sits initially with one arm around the shoulder of his date. A soda sits on the far armrest, a large container of popcorn rests in his lap.
Sarah sits to the left. Curled up against Johnny. Well and neatly dressed, absorbed in the movie on the screen as she quietly helps herself to small handfuls of popcorn. Sarah seems, on first impression, no more or no less mature and aged than Johnny.
(Johnny slips his arm around Sarah’s shoulders, lightly toying with her hair)
SARAH
(Whispering)
Johnny, stop it.
JOHNNY
Stop what? You have nice hair. Soft hair, I like your shampoo. It smells like peaches.
SARAH
(Taking a hold of Johnny’s hand)
Strawberries…
JOHNNY
Fresh-picked, soft, fuzzy peaches. I love peaches.
SARAH
Straw. Berries. Johnny, strawberries.
JOHNNY
What was that sweetie?
SARAH
It smells like strawberries you dope.
JOHNNY
Maybe to you it does, but from where I’m sitting, it smells like fresh peaches.
(Playfully nuzzling Sarah’s hair)
I’ve always loved your shampoo. In class and stuff, when you walk by, you always smell so sweet.
SARAH
You have no idea what you’re talking about. Please, let’s watch the movie.
JOHNNY
Every day, 3rd hour and I get to sit right behind you. It’s like, what I associate my day with, and stuff. You and peaches. It’s kind of what attracted me to you in the first place.
SARAH
(A little too loudly)
It’s a new shampoo!
(Sighing, blushing and looking around, afraid of attracting attention)
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January 28th, 2008 at 8:54 pm
(Scene, Unfinished)
“Stupid mutt!” the younger man shouted, kicking up a cloud of dust.
“Your dog lose?” Asked an older man, weathered, just passing by.
“Every single time,” the young man shouted, “I train him, I feed him and he repays me by being totally worthless.”
“Sometimes you just lose,” the old man, fingering his ticket, “s’no shame in that.”
“What the fuck does that mean? No shame,” with a sneer, “maybe not for you, but I’m heading somewhere, man. I’m one dog out, one mutt worth half a damn to get my feet moving out of this town.”
“This place,” in more measured tones, “it ain’t so bad really. Once you get used to it, that is.”
“What shit, what a bunch of shit,” the younger man mocking, patience exhausted, “bein’ a failure’ll make a bunch of things suddenly acceptable.”
“Failure, it’s a wonderful thing sometimes,” the older man smiling, a single slip of paper snaking through his fingers, “just don’t forget to settle your bet. And stop gettin’ dirt all over my damn new shoes.”
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January 11th, 2008 at 12:37 pm
(Scene)
Excerpts from an interview conducted with Mr. David Hall over a matter of nature, a question of small stature and an unusual personal affliction. The subject, it should be noted, was quite willing to chat. The individual was forthright and forthcoming, open minded and mouthed and eager to divulge the requested information. Doctors remain baffled; health professionals involved but without suggestion as the subject continues the stroke of life.
INTERVIEWER:
So you say that it’s…
DAVE:
Small, yes. Distinctive.
I:
So it sets you apart then?
D:
Yes. It’s come to be a sort of calling card I suppose.
I:
And how long, ahem, I mean…
D:
I know. Since I was young.
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