Written by Joe Janes
12/9/09
325 of 365
CAST
Woody, 50s
Aretha, 50s
Jimmy, 20s
(Lights up on Jimmy, Woody and Aretha setting up for a day at the beach. Jimmy wears shorts and a tank top. Woody unashamedly wears Speedos. Aretha wears a one piece with frilly fringe on the bottom half. Aretha is laying out a towel as Woody opens up a cooler and breaks out some beer.)
ARETHA
Finally. A day at the beach with my family.
(She and Woody share a quick kiss. She starts putting on sun tan lotion.)
JIMMY
I don’t get the big deal. It’s water. We have water at home.
WOODY
It’s good to get outdoors, Jimmy. Get some fresh air; take a dip in the lake.
JIMMY
Smells like dead fish.
WOODY
It’s supposed to smell that way. It’s a good smell.
JIMMY
You say so. That water don’t look right. Water’s supposed to be blue.
WOODY
Stop being such a wussy bag.
ARETHA
Really, Jimmy. Can’t you just enjoy yourself for once? Nobody has to work. You don’t have to go in the water, if you don’t want to. Just drink beer and sit in the sun.
JIMMY
There ain’t no sun.
ARETHA
Of course there’s a sun. Just behind the clouds right now, is all.
WOODY (handing Jimmy a beer)
Here you go, Jimmy. Let’s let Aretha soak up some clouds while the men go step in the water.
JIMMY
I don’t know, Woody.
WOODY
Just a little ways. No dunking or nothing. I saw it on TV. At these resorts in exotic places like Florida. Rich dudes stand in the ocean and drink pina coladas.
JIMMY
I’ll go as far as the water.
WOODY
That’s a start.
(They head down to the edge of the stage, which is also the edge of the water.)
JIMMY
I used to like coming to the beach, when I was a kid.
WOODY
Still the same beach.
JIMMY
Naw. It’s different. Smaller. More litter, less shells.
WOODY
You just got bigger. Come on. Let’s walk in just a bit.
(Woody steps into the water, off the edge of the stage.)
WOODY (continuing)
Whoa. Bit of a drop there. Careful. Let me hold your beer.
JIMMY
I don’t need you to hold my beer.
(Jimmy steps in.)
JIMMY (continuing)
Christ that’s cold.
(Woody has stepped out farther than Jimmy.)
WOODY
It feels good. It’s like touching nature.
JIMMY
It’s like touching nature in a bad place. There’s dead fish floating in the waves.
(If possible, Woody has found a chair to stand on.)
WOODY
Hey, Jimmy. Come on out here. I found a sand bar.
JIMMY
I’m fine, right here.
WOODY
Come on, boy. Belly up to the sand bar with your dad.
(Jimmy reluctantly moves towards the sand bar. He trips and goes under, but pops back up.)
JIMMY
Crap that’s cold!
(He hurries to the sand bar.)
WOODY
There you go. A good dunk will get you used to it.
JIMMY
I think I got lake water in my beer.
WOODY
The alcohol will kill the germs. And what it doesn’t kill will toughen you up.
JIMMY
It tastes awful.
WOODY
Here. Trade me, you puss.
JIMMY
It’s okay.
WOODY
I said trade me. I don’t want to hear you whining. (They trade. Woody takes a big old swig.) Aw, that tastes just dandy. Like drinking nature.
JIMMY
Dad, what are we doing here?
WOODY
Aw, Jimmy. I’ve got something to tell you. Man-to-man. Your mother and I are splitting up.
JIMMY
Aretha!
ARETHA
What?
JIMMY
Dad says you two are splitting up.
ARETHA
Oh, Woody, take the sock out of your trunks and shove it in your mouth.
JIMMY
So, you’re not splitting up.
ARETHA
No.
WOODY
I’m just trying to get some kind of reaction out of you, son. All you do is be all Mr. Negative about things. You’re a one-note Nancy. You seem unable to have a good time or do anything other than be terminally perturbed.
JIMMY
Just not happy about things, is all.
WOODY
You need a gal, like Aretha. But not Aretha, because she’s your mom.
JIMMY
What I need is to move away.
WOODY
Elyria, Ohio is a great place to stake your claim in the world. It’s done me good. As it did for my dad and his dad before him.
JIMMY
My life’s just not going anywhere. I need to get to someplace where more stuff is happening.
WOODY
Cleveland?
JIMMY
I was thinking Chicago.
WOODY
What the hell would you do in Chicago?
JIMMY
I don’t know. But I’d find something.
WOODY
It would be a shame if you left. Look, this is going to sound like I’m making it up after I tried to tell you Aretha and I were splitting up, but you know her doctor appointment the other day. We told you it was for a pap smear.
JIMMY
I remember, because I didn’t ask.
WOODY
Your mother has cancer.
JIMMY
What kind of cancer?
WOODY
Oh, you know. Woman cancer. Cancer of the coochie. She didn’t want you to know.
JIMMY
Aretha!
ARETHA
What?
JIMMY
How’s your vagina?
ARETHA
Fine, thank you. How’s yours?
(Woody laughs.)
WOODY
Good one, Aretha! Look, she doesn’t know yet. The doctors only told me.
JIMMY
They told you, but not her.
WOODY
Not easy news to get, Jimmy. What if I told you your dingle was rotting off? How would you like that?
JIMMY
I’d want to know. Mom! Dad says you have cancer.
ARETHA
Woody! Stop lying to the boy. I don’t have cancer.
WOODY
All right, son. She doesn’t have cancer. Yet. But look at her lying out in the sun like a drying piece of girlie jerky. She’ll get cancer soon enough.
JIMMY
Dad. I need to move on. After high school, all my friends moved or became people I no longer wanted to hang out with. There’s got to be more to life than working and drinking.
WOODY
There is. It’s called fucking. Get yourself a girlfriend.
JIMMY
I’ll be sure to look for one in Chicago.
WOODY
Look, I’m not like most dads, right?
JIMMY
That’s absolutely right.
WOODY
We’ve always been more than father and son. We’ve been best buds. You’re my best friend, Jimmy. What the hell would I do without you?
JIMMY
I’m just talking about moving, not dying. We can still be close. We’ll always be close.
WOODY
It’ll take some getting used to.
JIMMY
If I stay, I’ll be unhappy. You don’t want me to be unhappy, do you?
WOODY
Sure, I can live with that.
JIMMY
Well, I can’t.
ARETHA
Let the boy move to Chicago, Woody! Give us a reason to come visit him.
(Jimmy shrugs at his dad.)
WOODY
Give your old man a hug.
JIMMY
You’re practically naked.
(Woody grabs him, thrust his hips into him and gives him a big bear hug,)
WOODY
I’m going to miss you, son.
JIMMY
I’ll miss you, too. Can we go back to the beach? I think I’m standing on a severed hand.
(Blackout.)
