Week Three, Day Twenty - "Another One of Those Blackouts"

“Another One of Those Blackouts, And, Really, Stop Worrying. I’m Fine”
Written by Joe Janes
2/7/09
20 of 365

CAST:
Blindfolded Guy
Another Guy
Everyone Else

(Lights up on cast. One person is blindfolded and is being spun in a circle by the others who count off the spins while laughing and giggling.)

CAST

5…6…7…8…9.10!!!

ANOTHER GUY

Shhh…. Shhh…Run…Run…

(He chases everyone off. They all run out towards the audience, leaving the Blindfolded Guy center stage. Another Guy quickly puts on a military cap and stands stage left.)

ANOTHER GUY

Fire!!!

(We hear a volley of gunshots as Blindfolded Guy is shot. Blackout.)

Week Three, Day Nineteen - "Hemlock"

(This is Friday's post. I posted after midnight last night.)

“Hemlock”
Written by Joe Janes
2/6/09
19 of 365


Cast:
Ari, 20s
Roger, 20s

(Ari, a slight, nerdy looking fellow, is adjusting a noose over a pipe in the ceiling of his dorm room. He stands on a chair. He gets down off the chair and gives everything the once over. There is a goblet on a table. He picks it up, but before he sips, he closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. He then holds his nose and drinks about half of it. He almost chokes it back up but manages to keep it down. He gets back on the chair. He stands for a moment, going over everything in his head. He then takes a small plastic “carry out” bag out of his back pocket and puts it over his head. He then puts the noose on over top of that and appears to tighten the rope around his neck. The plastic bag begins to balloon in and out. Roger enters. He is taller and heavy set. He puts his backpack down and takes off his jacket. He notices Ari, but makes no big deal about it. The ballooning is becoming slower. Roger goes over to a small dorm refrigerator and takes out a beer. He sits at his desk. The bag has stopped ballooning. Roger turns on the computer at his desk and we hear the Mac start-up orchestration. Ari, startled, jumps a bit and claws an opening in the bag for his face to come out.)

ARI

Roger!

ROGER (at computer)

Hi, Ari.

ARI

I didn’t expect you home. Don’t you have Calculus?

ROGER

Cancelled. The teacher went to Ireland or something at the last minute. We think he got somebody pregnant.

ARI

Really? Professor Bowen? The guy with the turkey neck?

ROGER

Yeah.

ARI

Who did he get pregnant?

ROGER

We don’t know. We were just speculating. What have you been up to?

ARI

I was just killing myself.

ROGER

You were? I thought you were doing something else.

ARI

Doing what else?

ROGER

You know, that thing. Autoerotic asphyxiation.

ARI

Ew. No. That’s gross. I’m just killing myself.

ROGER

Hey, I’m not here to judge. Why the bag?

ARI

Oh, this is brilliant. You'll appreciate this. The bag was to get me to a point of passing out so I fall off the chair and hang myself. It also speeds up the poison I ingested so I feel less pain.

ROGER

Is it working?

ARI

I do feel all tingly.

ROGER

Well, don’t let me interrupt you, dorm buddy. You do what you need to do. I’ll do what I need to do.

ARI

What do you need to do?

ROGER

I need to look at this computer screen. I’ve been looking at people all day and I need a break.

ARI

Yeah. People suck. That’s why I’m killing myself.

ROGER (commiserating)

Tell me about it.

ARI

There’s this girl in my astronomy class. Erika. With a “k.”

ROGER

It’s sexier that way.

ARI

Everything about Erika is sexier. At the planetarium, when everyone, including Erika, was looking up, all I could do was stare at her mandible.

ROGER

What part is that?

ARI

It’s her jaw. Specifically, I was looking at where her jaw hinges to her neck.

ROGER

Is that dirty?

ARI

I felt dirty. Especially when I followed her neckline all the way down-

ROGER

To her boobs?

ARI

Her clavicle. The cradle to my soul. I see her and it hurts too much to be me inside.

ROGER

Have you asked her out?

ARI (hopeful)

Do you honestly think a man like me has a chance with a woman like Erika?

ROGER

No. I’m just doing that thing people are supposed to do when they hear people say stuff like that.

ARI (crushed)

That’s what people do. They give other people hope instead of telling them the truth. That’s why I hate them. It’s just a set up for more hurt. Bigger hurt. All in the name of trying to be nice. It’s not nice at all.

(Roger has finished his beer and now sips from the goblet.)

ROGER

That’s pretty good. Did you put that in your note?

ARI

My note? Oh, for the love of Pete! I forgot the note. I remembered the rope, the plastic bag and the poison, but I forgot the note. Oh, what a fool am I! I really don't deserve to live. Roger! Roger! You must write my note for me. Hurry. Before it’s too late.

ROGER (grabs some Post-Its)

Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Go ahead.

ARI

Not on a Post-It note! I’m dying here, not going to the 7/11 for cigarettes.

ROGER

Sheesh, Ari, I’m just trying to help. You don’t even like my handwriting.

ARI

Handwriting would indicate it looked like a human wrote it. You have clawwriting.

ROGER

I’ll print in big letters and, here, I’ll use this.

ARI

What is it?

ROGER

It’s paper, see?

ARI

What’s on the other side?

ROGER

It’s a “to go” menu from Pickles ‘n’ Pizza, but it’s only printed on one side. You want to do this or not?

ARI

Fine. Fine…. Okay…Okay…Don’t start yet.

ROGER

I didn’t start.

ARI

I saw you writing.

ROGER

Just the date. Now, go.

ARI

Don’t rush me. It’s my funeral. The funeral! I planned nothing. Damn it all to hell! Okay… Here we go… To Whom It May Concern… I, Aristotle Sugar Lomarr, have most nobly chosen to leave this ever-maddening ball of wet clay. And I do so with dignity, with my head held high. Where other unhappy souls may choose life and soldier on through the drudgery of mortality, I have chosen to make a graceful exit to take my place amongst the dust and the wind. I excuse myself as I would do at any party at which I felt uncomfortable, which is all of them. I quietly take my leave. Adieu…. Post Script - Please bury me in the quad… near the rock where Erika sits and… reads from her hardcover editions of… Jane Austin novels. …Tell mother… and father… I tried.

(During Ari’s monologue, Ari becomes weaker and slower, and completely stops at the end. Roger looks at the note and finishes off the contents of the goblet.)

ARI (continuing weakly)

Oh, and Roger…

ROGER

Yeah, Buddy?

ARI

Don’t drink out of that goblet. It’s hemlock. (He dies. Roger starts trying to throw up in a basket. Lights fade as we hear the music intro to the TV news…)

ANCHOR (VO)

Tragedy at Drexel University today. Two students, a philosophy major and mathematics major, roommates at Kelly Hall dorm, have taken their lives in what appears to be a homosexual murder-suicide love pact in a ritual involving autoerotic asphyxiation. Officers said they found a possible suicide note that reads “Fine. Fine. Okay. Okay. Don’t start yet.” But then becomes indecipherable due to extremely poor penmanship.

Week Three, Day Eighteen - "Single White Friendster"

“Single White Friendster”
Written by Joe Janes
2/5/09
18 of 365

CAST:

Kimberly, late 20s
Wendy, 30

(Lights up on Kimberly and Wendy sitting at their respective desks. Kimberly is downstage right and Wendy is up left angled slightly away from Kimberly. There’s a small “ding” sound. Kimberly just received an e-mail.)

KIMBERLY (without turning her head)

Did you just send me an e-mail?

WENDY

What? Hunh?

KIMBERLY

You just sent me an e-mail, Wendy.

WENDY (looking at screen)

Um, oh, yeah. What do you know? I guess I did.

KIMBERLY

I’m ten feet away from you.

WENDY

I know. I wasn’t thinking. Did you read it?

KIMBERLY (reads the e-mail, rolls her eyes)

Wendy, nobody does Friendster any more.

WENDY (rolls over to Kimberly in her office chair)

What’s that, Kimberly?

KIMBERLY

Nobody does Friendster anymore. People do Facebook.

WENDY

Facebook? Gotcha. You’re on Facebook?

KIMBERLY

No. I’m not. And I’m not on Friendster.

WENDY

Gotcha. (She rolls back to her desk. Kimberly sighs. Wendy rolls back.) Hmmm?

KIMBERLY

What?

WENDY

Did you say something to me?

KIMBERLY

No.

WENDY

Okay. (She rolls back and starts working at her computer. Kimberly resumes work and there’s another “ding.” She rolls her eyes. Wendy keeps working but also keeps looking over at Kimberly. Suddenly, there’s a “ding ding” at Kimberly’s computer.)

KIMBERLY

Why are you instant messaging me? I’m right here?

WENDY

Um, oh. Okay. Sorry. You looked busy. I didn’t want to disturb you. Did you get my evite?

KIMBERLY (checking)

Yes. I got your evite.

WENDY (rolls over to Kimberly)

Yeah? Does it sound like fun? Do you like bowling?

KIMBERLY

No. Not really.

WENDY

That’s cool. We can do something else.

KIMBERLY

Why would you want to do something else? It’s your (reading screen) Birthday Bowling Bash.

WENDY

I want everyone to have a good time. Not everyone likes bowling. What would you like to do, Kimberly?

KIMBERLY

Wendy. Here’s the thing. I have my job and I have my life outside my job. I like to keep them separate. Do you understand?

WENDY

Sure. Gotcha. (She rolls back, sadly. She sits at her computer, listlessly typing. She sniffs a bit. Kimberly, feeling the guilt, walks over to her.)

KIMBERLY

It’s nothing personal, Wendy. Did you get any other responses from your evite?

WENDY

I only sent it to you.

KIMBERLY

You sent an evite to your Birthday Bowling Bash only to me?

WENDY

My 30th Birthday Bowling Bash.

KIMBERLY

Your 30th? Why would you do that?

WENDY

You’ll just laugh at me.

KIMBERLY

I promise I won’t laugh.

WENDY

I think you’re cool.

KIMBERLY

You think I’m cool? Wendy, this isn’t high school. It’s work.

WENDY

I know. I know. It’s stupid. I still think you’re cool. And I wanted to hang out with you on my birthday.

KIMBERLY

Wendy, I already hang out with you more than any other human being on the planet.

WENDY

You do?

KIMBERLY

We hang out eight hours a day five days a week.

WENDY

You do! Except when you go to lunch. Or on unscheduled breaks,

KIMBERLY

Happy birthday. Really. Happy birthday. I just like to keep my life in different compartments, Wendy. I have my co-workers; I have my family and friends. I like to leave my work at work. If I have a friend who is also a co-worker, you know what we’ll do when we get together?

WENDY (excited by the idea)

No, what will we do?

KIMBERLY

We’ll talk about work.

WENDY

Yeah. That Mr. O’Connell. Ooh, he makes me mad sometimes. He’s so high strung. Why doesn’t he just die of a heart attack, already?

KIMBERLY (cutting her off)

Wendy, Wendy! I don’t want to talk about work when I’m not at work. Do you understand? Work at work.

WENDY

Sure. I understand. I’m the same way, really. I have work and I have my “not” work. Work stays here. Birds, Scrabble, decorating my jeans jackets with rhinestones and metal studs, washing my mother’s hair, all stays at home.

KIMBERLY

Good. What are you doing for your birthday?

WENDY

I just told you.

KIMBERLY

You’re washing your mother’s hair on your birthday?

WENDY

After we play Scrabble and decorate our matching jean jackets.

(Awkward hopeful pause)

KIMBERLY

Sounds like a good time.

WENDY

Do you want-?

(Kimberly stops her with a look and a raised index finger. Wendy sheepishly smiles and nods and mime “locks” her lips as she returns to work. Kimberly goes back to her desk and back to work. There’s a “ding.”)

KIMBERLY

I told you I’m not on Facebook!

(Lights Out)

Week Three, Day Seventeen - "Diversity Chicken"

Diversity Chicken
Written by Joe Janes
2/4/09
17 of 365

CAST
Bobby, 12
Chelsea, 12
Diversity Chicken (aka DC),???

(Lights up on Bobby and Chelsea sitting on a stoop. Bobby has a baseball bat. Chelsea has a mitt and glove.)

BOBBY

Gee, Chelsea. I don’t like playing with that new kid, Raoul.

CHELSEA

I now what you mean, Bobby. There’s just something about him.

BOBBY

Yeah. I know. It’s like he’s different.

(Offstage we hear the trumpeting bawks of a chicken - then bounds onto the stage in a multi-colored chicken suit, Diversity Chicken!)

DC

Diversity Chicken to the rescue!

BOBBY AND CHELSEA

Diversity Chicken!

DC

That’s right, Bobby and Chelsea. I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about your new classmate, Raoul.

BOBBY

Yeah, Diversity Chicken. He looks so different from us.

CHELSEA

He’s a different color.

BOBBY

He wears different clothes.

CHELSEA

And he has a funny sounding name.

DC

Look at me, kids, and what do you see?

BOBBY

A big chicken?

DC

Take a closer look. What’s on this big chicken?

(The kids are stumped. They keep looking at him. DC flaps his arms. Nothing. He finally plucks one of his own feathers shows it to them.)

DC (After an understated “ow.”)

What’s this?

BOBBY AND CHELSEA (after looking at each other)

A feather?

DC

Right! Yes! A feather. Such bright, wonderful children.

(He sits down between them.)

DC

Do you see how my feathers come in all shapes and sizes, even different colors? (They nod.) Think of the planet as one big chicken. And every person on the planet is just a feather stuck to the chicken.

CHELSEA

So, Bobby and me are feathers?

DC

That’s right.

BOBBY

And we’re stuck on a giant chicken hurtling through space?

DC

That’s right, too.

CHELSEA

Does that mean Raoul’s a feather, too?

DC

Now, you’re catching on. And how silly would it be if I had some feathers that didn’t get along with other feathers?

CHELSEA

Pretty silly, Diversity Chicken.

BOBBY

So, we should try to like Raoul?

DC

Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn’t say that. Life’s too short to put up with people you have to try to like. All you have to do is “tolerate” Raoul.

CHELSEA

What’s “tolerate” mean?

DC

Well, it means, no one’s asking you to invite Raoul over to play video games or play baseball. But don’t go out of your way to bother him, either. As long as he sticks to his own neighborhood and dates his own kind, we won’t have a problem, will we?

BOBBY AND CHELSEA

Nope!

CHELSEA

Thanks, Diversity Chicken!

DC

You’re welcome, kids! Now, I’m off!

(He starts to walk away)

BOBBY

You don’t fly?

DC

Nope. I’m a chicken. Got wings, no gift of flight. Thanks, God!

CHELSEA

I thought super heroes flew?

DC

Well, you know, not really a super hero, here. More just a walking public service announcement. (Mumbles to himself as he exits) Fucking kids.

BOBBY

I hate chickens.

CHELSEA

Me, too. Unless they’re fried.

BOBBY

Let’s go eat him!

CHELSEA

Yay!

(They run off and start beating on DC with the bat. We hear chicken screams and see feathers fly onto stage as lights fade.)



ZED UPDATE

Check the side bar to your left to see the latest picture of Zed. He has some friends with him. I didn't want him to feel all alone when he met Ira Glass, Scott Simon and Peter Segal at a WBEZ fundraiser this evening. The next time you see him, he'll be on his own, distantly flanked by secret service sideburns ready to throw themselves in front of a razor to protect Zed. Click on the picture to contribute to the 826 Moustache-A-Thon.

Week Three, Day Sixteen - "Tit for Tat"

“Tit for Tat”
Written by Joe Janes
2/3/09
16 of 365

CAST:
Dana, 18
Nancy, 40s
Jackie, 40s
Phillip, 40s


(Lights up on a living room. Dana is seated in a chair with an overnight bag at her feet. Nancy stands next to her. Jackie sits off to the side, drinking a can of beer. A car horn is heard outside. Nancy puts her hand on Dana’s shoulder.)

DANA

Mom.

NANCY

If he wants to see you, he’ll get out of his car.

(Dana’s cell phone rings. She picks up.)

DANA

Hi, Dad…I’m ready, but you have to come to the door… Because mom says so.

(We hear a car door open and slam shut. A moment later, there is a knock at the door.)

NANCY

Who is it?

PHILLIP (off)

You know who in hades it is, Nancy. Stop playing games.

(Nancy opens the door.)

NANCY

Why, Phillip, how nice of you to stop by.

PHILLIP (entering)

What’s the big idea? What’s going on, Dana?

DANA

Ask mom. She’s the one having a fit.

NANCY

I wanted to make sure that before you took your daughter away for the weekend that you know for a fact that I had nothing to do with this.

(She holds up Dana’s arm and shows that Dana has a tattoo on her forearm.)

PHILLIP

A tattoo! Oh, Dana. Oh, dear. Oh, my. Why did you get a tattoo of all things?

DANA

It was my eighteenth birthday. I wanted to mark the occasion.

NANCY

Honey, that’s why people buy birthday cards and stuff. That marks an occasion. This marks your arm. For life.

PHILLIP

Your mother’s right. This isn’t some blouse you can return to Sears. What is that?

NANCY

And that’s the other thing.

PHILLIP

It looks like a… saddle on a dinosaur? Oh.

NANCY

So, you recognize it. I had to pry the story out of her.

PHILLIP

Couldn’t you have just gotten a crucifix or something more traditional?

JACKIE

Yeah. So what the hell is a Creation Museum, any way, Phillip? What are you doing dragging our little Dana to places like that? A Creation Museum. Sounds like they should have lots of pictures of people doing it. Not statues of dinosaurs wearing saddles.

NANCY

It’s some freaky Christian thing. They believe the world is only a few thousand years old and that dinosaurs used to roam around in the Garden of Eden.

DANA

They even had a really cool display of them on Noah’s Ark.

JACKIE

Idiots. Noah’s Ark would have made a good explanation for dinosaurs disappearing. Them and unicorns. These Christians, just not thinking right.

NANCY

You’ve been filling up my daughter’s head with all that religious right Sarah Palin Christian stuff and look what she does to her beautiful arm.

PHILLIP

Dana, honey. A tattoo, no matter how you feel about it right now, is something you’re probably going to regret later. Although, that is really good. How much did that cost?

NANCY

Phillip!

PHILLIP

It’s good!

DANA

It was free. Aunt Jackie did it.

JACKIE

Guilty! Aunt Jackie picked up a few handy skills at the state prison.

PHILLIP

You’re not her aunt, you lesbo!

JACKIE (getting up)

You want to step outside, fag bag?

NANCY

You two knock it off. Don’t even talk to each other. What are you going to do about your daughter?

PHILLIP

What are you going to do about your tattoo wielding live-in lover? Why is she giving my daughter tattoos?

NANCY

Why are you filling my daughter’s head with crap?

(Nancy and Phillip start yelling at each other.)

DANA

Hey! Time out! I said, time out! (She separates Phillip and Nancy.) You go over there and you go over there! Now, one thing you both seem to be forgetting, mother and father, is that your daughter turned eighteen last week. I can get a tattoo if I want to. I can believe in any religion I want to. And I don’t care if my Aunt Jackie isn’t really my aunt, I think she’s cool and if she puts her mind to it and goes back to school, she can get a degree and become a real tattoo artist.

JACKIE

Thanks, honey.

DANA

And I also think a dinosaur with a saddle tattooed to my arm is also really frickin’ cool looking regardless of where I got the idea from. So, get over it.

PHILLIP

You're right, Dana. Of course, you can do what you want.

NANCY

I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re all legal, now. I’m going to have to get used to that. You’re still my little baby. I just can’t help caring so much.

DANA

I know, mom.

NANCY

You should show her.

PHILLIP

Oh, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

DANA

Show me what?

PHILLIP

Well, Dana, when I was your age, I did a foolish thing. I got a tattoo. One that I really, really regret.

DANA

I want to see it.

JACKIE

Me, too.

PHILLIP

Oh, sheesh. Okay.

(He untucks his shirt in the back and shows them the upper part of his lower back. They all three look at it, Dana and Jackie quizzically.)

DANA

What is that?

JACKIE

It looks like Satan vacuuming.

PHILLIP

That’s exactly what it is.

JACKIE

I think he needs a better vacuum. He’s missing a lot of butt hair.

NANCY

Probably clogged up the nozzle.

PHILLIP (tucking in his shirt)

Ha, ha. It was my rebellious way of saying “Satan Sucks!” Cost me $150 and hurt like hell. Wish I never did it. Looked in to getting it removed, but that costs 10-times more. So, you see, your mom and I, we just don’t want you to make the same mistakes we did. Like getting a regretful tattoo.

NANCY

Or marrying an ultra-Christian man when you really want to be with a not-so-Christian woman.

DANA

Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.

(They all three hug.)

JACKIE

Well, ain’t this fucking special, I’m going to go switch from beer to wine.

(She exits.)

PHILLIP

Why did she go into the bathroom for wine?

NANCY

Something else she learned in prison.

DANA

She makes it in the toilet.

(Blackout.)

MOUSTACHE-A-THON CONTINUES

Shout out to Greg Wendling for sponsoring my moustache Zed in the 826 fundraiser. You can, too! Click HERE!

Week Three, Day Fifteen - "Kat Jitsu!"

KAT JITSU!
Written By Joe Janes
2/2/09
15 of 365

CAST:
Mee
Oh
Steal Maloney


(Lights up on Mee, Oh and Steal, all wearing karate uniforms. Steal is a large man, perhaps overweight, and has a shaved head. Steal is downstage left while Mee and Oh stand behind him upstage right.)

STEAL

Many martial arts techniques began with a master observing animals in nature – the praying mantis, the monkey, the crane – all inspired a myriad of fighting styles. But none can compete with my own copyrighted style of hand-to-hand combat – Kat Jitsu!

(The three raise their hands like front paws and give a short HISS!)

STEAL (continuing)

I’m Steal Mahoney, former Navy Seal and three-time black belt champ. I spent many years observing domesticated house cats. I was an unemployed karate instructor and avid Bruce Lee fan with a broken VCR. Then I noticed my two cats, Mr. Peepers and Li’l Steal, going at it. That’s when Kat Jitsu was born. Kat Jitsu!

(The three raise their hands like front paws and hiss, again.)

STEAL (continuing)

At my award winning Kat Jitsu Academy, learn to incapacitate your opponent by curling up on his chest and falling asleep.

(Mee and Oh demonstrate. Oh drops Mee to the ground, curls up on his chest and starts purring)

STEAL (continuing)

With my patented technique, learn the fine art of lock and awe!

(Mee and Oh bat at each other, each with only their upstage arms, then quickly lock all their arms together and stare at each other)

STEAL (continuing)

In your very first free introductory class, you will learn to divert your enemy’s attention by licking yourself.

(Mee and Oh demonstrate. They are batting at each other; Mee suddenly stops, looks away, and starts licking himself. Oh looks baffled.)

STEAL (continuing)

Never be frightened to walk alone down a dark alley ever again. Anyone can do Kat Jitsu. Even elderly pregnant women in wheel chairs.

(Mee stuffs a pillow under his uniform as Oh puts a gray wig on him. Mee gets into a wheelchair. Oh approaches him pretending to have a gun, just using his fingers.)

STEAL (continuing)

All you need to do is be able to look adorable, which I will teach you.

(Mee looks adorable, cocking his head to the side and raising his hands outward up to his chest. Oh, smitten, throws the “gun” away and rubs Mee’s belly. Mee grabs Oh’s arm and begins kicking him in short, quick kicks with his legs.)

STEAL (continuing)

It does help if you don’t really need the wheel chair. Steal Mahoney’s Kat Jitsu Academy. You’re already a pussy, now learn to defend yourself! Kat Jitsu!

(The three recreate their paws up pose and hiss. Blackout.)

Week Two, Day Fourteen - "Brown Bagging It"

“Brown Bagging It”
By Joe Janes
2/1/09
14 out of 365

CAST:
Hanna
Nathan
Mr. Mylee
Jeb
Cindy
Server

(Lights up on three co-workers sitting around a small table in a break room. Mr. Mylee sits with nothing in front of him, Nathan lethargically picks at a salad he is eating out of worn Tupperware, and Hanna also has nothing in front of her. Jeb quickly enters with a crinkled brown bag that makes a thump when he sets it on the table.)

JEB

Sorry, I’m late, Mr. Mylee.

MR. MYLEE

Don’t worry, Jeb. You’re not the last to arrive.

HANNA (stage whispering and mouthing the word to Jeb)

“Cindy.”

JEB

Go figure.

NATHAN

This is temporary, right? Once the economy gets better, we’ll get back to meeting at Chez Ami every Friday, right? Right?

MR. MYLEE

We don’t know how long that will take, Nathan. We can no longer afford luxuries like Chez Ami every Friday for our department head meeting. Until things turn around, we’re going to have to rough it.

NATHAN

Red Lobster would be roughing it? Wouldn’t it? We could meet at Red Lobster?

HANNA

Brown bagging it is cheaper. It sends a message to our employees that we’re trying to cut back without cutting jobs, right, Mr. Mylee?

MR. MYLEE

Right on, Hanna.

JEB

Especially if you’re fasting, what gives, Hanna?

HANNA

I’m not fasting.

NATHAN

What did you bring, Jeb?

JEB (opening bag and taking out contents)

An orange and a can of soup.

HANNA

A can of soup?

JEB

Yeah. It’s healthy. It’s soup.

HANNA

And it’s in a can. Not a juice box.

JEB

Hunh?

NATHAN

There’s no can opener in here. We have a microwave; a coffee maker that leaks, a Styrofoam cup filled with little plastic straws and a stack of old napkins nabbed from that KFC the health department closed down a month ago.

JEB

I miss that KFC.

HANNA
No can opener.

JEB

Crap. I just grabbed what I could find before I went out the door. It was either this or half a bag of flour.

HANNA

Why do you have flour?

JEB

Exactly. I don’t know, but there it is, in my cupboard. Flour. I’ve had it for years. I’ve had it through three apartment moves.

MR. MYLEE

Well, look; we still need to have our department head meeting…

(Cindy enters. She carries in her arms a variety of snacks and candies from a vending machine. She drops her food on the table, sits, and scoops all her food up, narrowly escaping Jeb sneaking some chips.)

CINDY

Okay, let’s do this. (She opens up a candy bar and starts chowing.)

MR. MYLEE

Well, like I was about to say, I appreciate the sacrifices everyone has been making during these difficult times…(The microwave dings)

HANNA

That’s me! (She goes to the microwave)

NATHAN

That smells food-like.

HANNA

It’s shrimp alfredo.

(She brings back a small tray)

CINDY (with mouth full)

Lean-fucking-cuisine? Lean-fucking-cuisine?

HANNA

I’m watching my figure, Cindy.

NATHAN

You already look like a toy pony head on a stick, dear.

JEB

Are you trying for invisible?

HANNA

Mr. Mylee-

MR. MYLEE

Let’s just get through this meeting, shall we?

CINDY

What are you eating? Where’s your food, Mylee?

MR. MYLEE

Don’t worry about me, Lubvitch. It’s taken care of. Let’s start with the processing department, Jeb. Several RFP’s came across my desk this week that I’m not too sure about.

(As Jeb speaks a server in a red jacket wheels in a cart. He very formally presents and serves Mr. Mylee an entrée and a glass of wine.)

JEB

Well, Mr. Mylee, in spite of the economy, it’s been a busy week. So, that’s good news. But it’s all been low-paying, low-hanging fruit. Basically, we’re taking any project that comes our way to stay busy and to keep the cash flow coming, even if it’s just a trickle. We’re hungry… to… work.

(When the server is finished, he hands Mr. Mylee a slip to sign. He then stands to the side and waits. Clearing his throat lightly. Mr. Mylee notices and slips the server twenty dollars. The server graciously accepts it and exits with the cart.)

JEB (continuing)

Is that fillet mignon from Chez Ami?

CINDY

Was that a twenty?

HANNA

I could buy four Lean Cuisines with a twenty.

NATHAN

I would have blown you for a twenty. Any of you.

MR. MYLEE

This clearly isn’t working. Apparently, our weekly meeting was more about you getting a free lunch off “the man” than it was about productively moving our company forward. How sad for you. How pathetic. (He rises, picks up his plate and glass) Our Friday department head meetings will from now on be at 3pm, well post-lunch and very pre-dinner. Finish your “feed” and meet in the conference room in three hours.

(He exits. They sit in silence for a moment, picking at their foodstuffs.)

HANNA

I’m hungry.

(Lights fade)

Hey!

It's been two weeks of posting sketches! Woo-hoo! I was a little panicky mid-week. I wrote a scene that I didn't post, and will not be posting without some revision. I know, I said to please regard these as first drafts, which is, of course, a plea for leniency! It was just too darn flat. If you do see it in its current state, you'll know I had a rough day.

I wrote fourteen scenes over fourteen days. Enough material, time-wise, for a one-act sketch revue. 50 more weeks to go! I appreciate all the support I've been getting here in the comment section and on Facebook. You are the wind beneath my wings. I type on the wind. And I have wings. It's really amazing I've been able to write anything, giving my disability.

Who won the Super Bowl? Bruce Springsteen, that's who!