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So here is a play I've been working on to submit to a local fringe festival. I'm looking for some feedback, suggestions, critiques, etc. I need to do some re-writes, considering that I wrote the majority of it while sick with the swine flu.
Anyway, you have to consider the setup. Through parts, there is two simultaneous scenes in action, though only one if 'active' (only one is well-lit and contains dialog.)
Well, without further ado
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[Couple sit on an old, lumpy, sagging sofa, located stage right. They sit before an old, outdated black-and-white TV. Woman is asleep. Man is fidgety, constantly shifting while trying not to wake woman up. Clicks TV on, two actors enter stage left. They are the TV show, it is a soap opera. A man, Derrick, and a woman, Rochelle, play out the scene.]
Derrick: It’s another man, isn’t it Rochelle?
Rochelle: He provides for me, Derrick. He gives me what I need!
Derrick: What have I failed to provide for you, Rochelle? What else can I give?
[Woman begins to snore, man turns up TV; Derrick and Rochelle talk louder.]
Rochelle: [Softening] Oh, you know Derrick. The little things, the bits of conversation that a woman needs. He speaks to me idly about the weather, you’d think he actually cared. And when he asks how my day was, he pretends to listen while I prattle on with my bullshit answer. Oh Derrick, how you have no idea. His little quirks are so fascinating to me. Your conversations are so dry; they miss the mark of love and leave me thirsty. Derrick, I need a lover who will whisper to me as I go to sleep about the markets in Beijing and will still be giving me stock quotes as I wake up in the morning. Derrick, I need the gentle hum of conversation to distract me from this bullshit world.
Derrick: Rochelle, I can change! I can care about you, I love you.
Rochelle: Sometimes, Derrick, love just isn’t enough. I need contact, I need conversation
[Man shifts again, woman wakes up. Rubs sleep out of her eyes]
Derrick: But I-
[Man hits mute. Derrick and Rochelle mime out their argument while man and woman talk. Derrick is aggressive, points finger at Rochelle, who is passive. They do a slow dance around the room, finally returning to center as Man leaves room.]
Man: Oh, I’m sorry honey.
Woman: [groggily]Sure.
Man: Go back to sleep.
Woman: No use.
Man: Did you have a nice nap?
Woman: Hmhgm.
Man: Uhuh…Well I was just watching this…Oh it’s junk, really.
Woman: Hrumph.
Man: I’ll make tea! [hastily leaves room. Woman unmutes TV]
Derrick: What’s to be done, my dear?
Rochelle: The only things that’s left to do, Derrick. We’ve got to kill ourselves.
Derrick: Rochelle! How could you say such a thing? [Grabs Rochelle] Have you gone completely mad? Are you kidding?
Rochelle: I’m dead serious, Derrick. We’re no good for anyone. We’re just two more cogs in this machine. Look at the way we fight; we’re just two more ruts on a shitty highway. [Derrick is silent. Rochelle continues quietly.] You know I’m right, don’t you?
Derrick: I… Suicide, Rochelle? Is that really the solution to our problems?
[Man re-enters room, woman turns off TV. Stage left quickly goes dark.]
Woman: Where’s the tea, dear?
Man: I-uh. Oh. I forgot it. [Looks dazzled.]
Woman: It’s fine. Too late for tea anyway.
[Man sits down, quickly stands up, walks over to TV set, adjusts rabbit ears. Sits back down, a foot from Woman. Silence. Woman gets up, wipes invisible dust from the table, inspects it, shakes her head and sits back down.]
Man: Did you turn the TV off?
Woman: [Flustered; embarrassed] Oh, yes, well…I was watching that dreadful show that you had on. I suppose you want to know what happened?
Man: Not particularly.
Woman: Oh.
Man: [Looks stage right, up, down, anywhere but towards Woman. Eventually edges closer, puts arm around her.] Tell me
Woman: [Somewhat excited] You see, Rochelle can’t decide between which of the two men she’d rather stay with; the one that provides her stability, or the one that keeps her life interesting. Her solution is that her and Derrick should..well..y’know [Yanks at neck like she’s holding a noose]. He’s mortified, of course, but it seemed like he was coming around to it.
Man: What garbage.
Woman: [Somewhat deflated.] Right. Awful show.
Man: They’d do well to kill themselves. Ultimate spice of life. [Reflects] Thank God for soap operas. Glory glory, halleluiah.[Picks up remote, turns TV back on.]
Rochelle: The truth is marching on, Derrick! It’s just going to leave without you. Either we go now to that waiting chariot in the sky, or we’ll stay here forever bound by the same listless conversations, the same dull monotonies. How can you live your futile life on earth knowing that you could have been a prince in heaven? Our house is on fire, Derrick, and you’re just to afraid to jump out the window.
[Woman grabs remote, turns TV off.]
Woman: Is that us?
Man: Sorry?
Woman: Are we Rochelle and Derrick? Are we too afraid to make a change?
Man: A change? [dismayed] Like what, death?!
Woman: It’s just a metaphor, you know. It’s all just metaphors, layered confusingly on top of each other.
Man: I know. [Picks up remote, turns TV back on]
Derrick: To you, Rochelle, the angel of death. The harbinger of finality. Let’s drink to the spark in our lives that will undoubtedly end it. A toast to your stiletto lips and to this arsenic cider. Drink to the last drop, lest we be confined to a mental ward for the rest of our lives as total vegetables [stops. thinks, then continues] which may actually be a blessing. Let’s just skip the theatrics and say cheers to hereafter.
[Derrick brings cup to mouth, as does Rochelle. Both pretend to drink, have one eye looking at the other. After pretending to drink, they look into each other’s eyes, drop the cups, embrace each other and kiss.]
Narrator: Next time on The End of Our-
Woman: [Turns TV off.] What trash. We’ll never resolve it that way.
Man: Sorry, what was that dear?
Woman: Nothing. Just commenting on the acting. [pause.] If I wanted us to kill ourselves, would you do it?
Man: [Fidgits nervously, pulls out a cigarette from case on the table, lights up.] Sorry, what was that?
Woman: You heard me. Would you kill yourself if I were doing it too?
Man: Well dear, I don’t know…
Woman: Answer the question.
Man: [Deflated.] It’s time for the news. [TV turns on. News anchor sits behind a desk banging crash cymbals together. He continues until Man finally turns TV off.] Enough of that.
Woman: I would want us to die together, you know.
Man: Listen, isn’t this rather morbid?
Woman: I want to know. It’s important.
Man: Well…What are the circumstances? Are you ill? Is the world about to end?
Woman: No. I wake up one morning, roll over to face you and mumble something like ‘this our stop, I think.’ Or ‘let’s leave before we wear out our welcome.’ I kiss you briefly, then pass you a handful of pills.
Man: [Flustered] Dear, this is…I don’t know how to…
Woman: It’s fine.
[long pause, woman stares off, man smokes quietly. Man finally finishes cigarette, butts it out feverously.]
Man: Listen, I’m not going to kill myself with you. If you rolled over with a handful of pills, I’d snatch them from your hand, scatter them across the room and hold you until the lust for death passes. If it doesn’t, I’ll live out the rest of my life feeling like a failure.
Woman: How bland.
Man: [Taken aback.] I…Dear, if you’ve grown bored of life, we can do something different! We can…We can skydive!
Woman: That won’t do. Everyone skydives. My mother skydives.
Man: Well…We’ll move! We’ll buy a houseboat and sail across the Atlantic. Maybe we’ll sail to Monaco and buy a villa. We can get involved in organized crime and run a small casino!
Woman: With what money? We’d lose money selling this house, for crissakes.
Man: Well, honey, what ideas do you have?
Woman: [brightens up] Well, you see we could-
Man: That doesn’t involve us dying.
Woman: Oh. I don’t know, sweetheart. We’re stuck.
[silence. Woman grabs a cigarette, lights one. Man picks up the remote, considers it, puts it back down.]
Man: Fine. Let’s do it.
Woman: Sorry?
Man: Let’s kill ourselves. Who needs all this? [Looks around. Continues uncertainly.] I guess I don’t.
Woman: I…Are you sure?
Man: Y-yes. I mean… Yes, I am. I haven’t felt alive since I was in the womb. I can’t stand anymore terrible soap operas or newcasts. I can’t go on living on the day-to-day crumbs of this life, let’s just do it. Get it over with, no more speeches.
Woman: Oh…okay, honey, let me just finish this cigarette. [silence.]
Man: How should we do it?
Woman: I don’t suppose it matters, does it? Quick, slow, messy or neat; it’s all the same to me.
Man: Let’s do it at the exact same time. Maybe we could host a small explosion?
Woman: Oh let’s not bother being flashy, why not just drink some poison?
Man: All I can picture is Rochelle and Derrick. Let’s use the gun.
Woman: Let’s. Where is it?
Man: In the kitchen, under the sink.
Woman: [butts out cigarette] I’ll get it. [Gets up, leaves room]
Man: Great. [Grabs remote, turns on TV. ]
[Man stands, stage left, on a bare stage in a preacher’s uniform.]
Preacher: A young boy once came to me after mass. He looked shy and timid, so I said to him “Speak up, child.” He said to me “Father, I have a question.” And I replied “Yes, my son, go ahead.” He took a deep breath and continued “Father, I’m afraid that there’s nothing after we die.” I gave him a big smile and patted him on the head. I said to him “Son, of course there is nothing after we die. Once our lives are over, they chuck us in a box and we get put in the ground. That doesn’t mean, however, that we can’t enjoy our time while we’re here. Isn’t It more fun to have a good time for 100 years than to have to spend all that time waiting for the next thing? And besides, an eternity of having fun will get boring. Life has good , bad and bland, and that’s what makes it exciting!” But I could see he still wasn’t convinced, so I finished by saying “My child, if I see you in the afterlife, I’ll buy you a soda.”
[Woman re-enters room. Man mutes TV. Preacher slowly works up into a sermon as they talk.]
Man: Where’s the gun?
Woman: Wh…Oh, the gun? I forgot it.
Man: That’s fine.
[Woman sits down, quickly stands up, walks over to TV set, adjusts rabbit ears. Sits back down, a foot from Man. Silence. Man gets up, wipes invisible dust from the table, inspects it, shakes her head and sits back down. Woman slowly moves closer to man, puts her arm around him. Man picks up remote, turns off TV.]
Fin.
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