Week 43, Day 298 - "Staying Up Late"

“Staying Up Late”

Written by Joe Janes

11/12/09

298 of 365

Cast:

Keith, 30s

Larry, 30s

(Lights up on Keith sitting at the far end of his living room sofa watching TV late at night. It is something that might be on The Food Network. He keeps nodding off. Larry wanders in having wakened from the noise of the TV.)

LARRY

Keith…Keith…

(Larry picks up the remote and turns off the TV.)

KEITH

Hey, I was watching that.

LARRY

It’s late. I’m trying to sleep.

KEITH

Too bad, Larry.

LARRY

I have to work in the morning and so do you.

KEITH

Actually, I don’t have to work in the morning so I am staying up late. Your normal Thursday night is like my bonus extra wild Friday night. I found out this afternoon. Some guy in accounting died or something. I just started a month ago. I didn’t even know him. But we all get tomorrow off. I feel bad for him, but look at this silver lining. I don’t have to be in bed by 10pm to get up and get to work on time. So, I’m taking advantage of it. After you hit the sack, I drank a beer. I ate a bag of potato chips. A whole bag. I’ve been watching stuff I don’t get to watch during prime time. I am celebrating my freedom.

LARRY

By falling asleep with the television on.

KEITH

I was just resting my eyes.

LARRY

What were you watching?

KEITH

Something with boobs in it.

(Larry turns the TV back on. We clearly hear Alton Brown talking excitedly about some spice, like cinnamon. Larry turns it back off.)

LARRY

Go to bed.

(Larry exits. Keith turns the TV back on. He turns the channel a few times until we hear something that sounds like porn music. He smiles and tries to watch, but dozes off. Lights fade.)

Week 43, Day 297 - "Seance"

“Séance”

Written by Joe Janes

11/11/09

297 of 365

Cast

Madame Orlenka, 50s

Miranda, 30s

Peter, 30s

Nina, 40s

Stuart, 40s

Norman, 50s

(Lights up around a dimly lit table. Everyone is seated in a semi-circle with Madame Orlenka in the center. She is flanked by Peter and Miranda. The séance is already underway.)

MADAME

Everyone, keep your hands delicately on the table, with our fingertips touching ever so lightly. (She takes a deep breath) I feel the presence of a spirit.

MIRANDA

Is it Alicia? Is it our baby?

MADAME

Shhhhhh…. I am attempting to be in tune with the spirit world. I need silence.

MIRANDA

But-

PETER

Silence, Miranda.

MADAME

Oh, spirit. Make yourself present in our world. Let us know that you are with us. Give us a sign.

NINA

Oh!

STUART

Someone’s moving the table.

(The table rises and lowers. It does it again, but stays risen.)

MIRANDA

Alicia. Baby, we miss you.

STUART

Alicia would never lift a table.

NORMAN

I agree. Sweet girl, but I never saw her lift a finger except to scratch her own fanny. And even that caused her to break a sweat.

(The table lowers as if dropped.)

MADAME

Spirit, oh, spirit. If you are the dear spirit of Peter and Miranda’s daughter Alicia, please give us a sign. Some kind of sign.

(They see a trumpet dangling in the air and they hear what sounds like a horn blast from the trumpet.)

NINA

That was obnoxious.

STUART

Why would Alicia play a trumpet? She never played the trumpet.

NORMAN

Apparently, she still doesn’t.

PETER

So, it could be her.

MIRANDA

Madame Orlenka, please tell her we love her.

MADAME

She hears you.

MIRANDA

We love you, Alicia.

PETER

Did you hear us, baby?

(The horn blasts, again.)

NINA

Couldn’t she take up a different instrument in the after life? Who takes up the trumpet when you’re dead? Harps are nice.

STUART

Harps are nice. I only hear them when I go out to brunch.

NORMAN

Ask her to play the harp for us.

MADAME

She wants to know why you summoned her here.

PETER

To tell her that we love her.

MADAME

Anything else?

MIRANDA

And that we miss her.

PETER

We miss her terribly.

MADAME

She says she’s got it.

(Pause)

PETER

Alicia, your whole family is here. Daddy, Mommy, Aunt Nina and Uncles Stuart and Norman.

(Pause)

STUART

Well, this is awkward.

NINA

Isn’t she going to say anything back? Like, “miss you, too”?

NORMAN

I always thought she was a rude little girl.

STUART

Not so little.

MIRANDA

Alicia. It’s okay. We know you love us.

MADAME

No, she doesn’t.

MIRANDA

What?

MADAME

She just said she didn’t. She’s happy to be on the other side. Please don’t bother her. See you when you get here…maybe.

PETER

Now, you see here, Alicia. This is your father and you’ll listen to me. Your mother and I gave you everything you ever wanted. You were our world. Now, we probably could have been better parents. We probably shouldn’t have left the Christmas lights up that far into spring and so close to the swimming pool. But you really probably shouldn’t have been swimming when I hadn’t cleaned the leaves out, yet. Or taken the cover off.

MIRANDA

But we know you liked the flashing colored lights, so you did get to see them one more time before…

PETER

We did everything for you, Alicia. A little thank you is all we ask. Just a little thank you.

(They hear a weak, sustained blast from a horn.)

MADAME

She’s gone. I think that was a thank you.

(Peter and Miranda hug.)

MIRANDA

Thank you, Madame Orlenka. Thank you. You’ve helped make us very happy.

MADAME

My job is helping loved ones connect with one another. I’m glad I could do that.

PETER

Let’s go to the den. I think we should toast this momentous evening.

NINA

I need a drink. What do you take in your whiskey, Madame?

MADAME

One ice cube. Hold the ice cube. (She giggles as they walk off.)

(Stuart looks at Norman suspiciously.)

STUART

That last one didn’t quite sound like a horn.

NORMAN

Just my way of saying “thank you.”

(Lights fade.)

Week 43, Day 296 - "Retard"

“Retard”

Written by Joe Janes

11/10/09

296 of 365

CAST

Bill, 30s

Marcia, 30s

(Lights up on Marcia and Bill working at computers near one another.)

BILL (reading an e-mail)

Oh, man, Marcia, did you see this e-mail from Mr. Kessler?

MARCIA

Yeah. What’s up with that?

BILL

If he thinks I’m going to work on a Saturday for free he’s a fucking retard.

MARCIA

Bill. I really find that kind of language offensive.

BILL

Oh. I’m sorry. I meant freakin’ retard. Kessler’s a freakin’ retard.

MARCIA

Bill. It’s not the “F” word. It’s the “R” word. It’s very offensive.

BILL

It is?

MARCIA

It’s as bad as the “N” word.

BILL

Oh, okay. I’ll be more careful.

MARCIA

Thank you.

BILL (reading new e-mail)

Oh, man. Now, Kessler wants us to work both Saturday and Sunday. What a fuckin’ mentally disabled person.

(He smiles at Marcia, looking for approval. She gives him a faint smile and goes back to work.)

MARCIA (to herself)

Retard.

(Blackout)

Week 43, Day 295 - "Teach A Man To Fish"

“Teach A Man To Fish”

Written by Joe Janes

11/9/09

295 of 365

CAST:

Jolene, 12

Grandpa, 70s

Game Warden Ned, 30s

(Lights up on Grandpa fishing along a stocked lake. Jolene walks up and sits next to him.)

JOLEEN

Thanks for taking the time to teach me to fish, Grandpa.

GRANDPA

Like I always say, “Give a man a fish and eats for the day, teach a man to fish and eats whenever he wants fish.”

JOLEEN

I’m so excited.

GRANDPA

Where’s your pole?

JOLEEN

Pole? I don’t have a pole.

GRANDPA

Can’t fish without a pole. You need to go buy one. Nice rod and reel like mine, plus bait and tackle, probably run you around a hundred bucks.

JOLEEN

But I don’t have any money.

GRANDPA

That’s too bad. Then I guess you don’t get to fish. Darn shame, I was looking forward to spending some quality time with my grand daughter.

JOLEEN

Me, too.

GRANDPA

You can watch while I fish.

JOLEEN

And I can help you eat the fish you catch.

GRANDPA

Well, that hardly seems fair. I do all the work and you get to eat the fish. Man needs to learn to get and eat his own fish. You could get a job. Get a job, make some money, buy yourself a rod and reel.

JOLEEN

I’m only twelve.

GRANDPA

I’m only twelve. Sounds like lazy talk to me.

JOLEEN

Could you give me the money to buy what I need?

GRANDPA

That hardly seems to fit the lesson I’m trying to pass on to you, Jolene. But I could loan you the money.

JOLEEN

That would be great.

GRANDPA (taking out wallet)

Here you go. Now, you pay me back within the next month and I won’t charge you interest. After that, the rate goes up to 10%. Think you can handle that?

JOLEEN

Sure. You’re teaching me to fish. I’ll figure something out.

GRANDPA

Good girl. Now, just so happens I have a rod and reel right here. You can take it off my hands for a hundred-fifty.

JOLEEN

But I only have a hundred.

GRANDPA

Hmmmm… That’s a toughie. Tell you what, I’ll make it 125 because you’re family, we’ll increase your line of credit on your loan and it starts accruing interest immediately.

JOLEEN

I don’t know…

GRANDPA

You want to exercise your right to fish, don’t you?

JOLEEN

I want to fish so badly.

GRANDPA

Well, okay, then. It’s a done deal. You aren’t going to be happy until you learn to fish and it breaks my heart to see you unhappy.

JOLEEN

Me, too. Let’s do it.

GRANDPA

Here you go. (He hands her a rod and reel and small tackle box.) Just watch what I do. You’ll pick up on it.

(She watches him and imitates him baiting his hook and gently casting into the water. She catches a fish. Grandpa talks her through bringing it in.)

GRANDPA

There you go. Now, reel it in, gently. Tug just a little bit. Reel it in…reel it in. (She stands up showing off the fish she hooked.)

JOLEEN

Look at me, Grandpa. I can fish!

(Game Warden Ned walks up.)

GAME WARDEN NED

Excuse me, little girl. Do you have a fishing license?

JOLEEN

A what?

GRANDPA

You need a license to fish, honey. It’s mandatory.

JOLEEN

I didn’t know.

(Game Warden Ned takes the fish, unhooks it, and throws it back into the lake.)

GAME WARDEN NED

I’m afraid I’ll have to take you back to the station and fine you $500. Let’s go.

(He grabs her arm and takes her off.)

JOLEEN

I don’t have the five hundred dollars. Bye, Grandpa.

GRANDPA

Bye, Jolene. Don’t forget that money you owe me. (Pause) Sweet girl. Too bad she’s such a parasite on society.

(He feels a tug on his line. Blackout.)

Week 42, Day 294 - "Three Wishes"

“Three Wishes”

Written by Joe Janes

11/08/09

294 of 365

CAST:

Reggie, 50s

Genie, ??

(Lights up on Reggie, a homeless man in an overcoat, foraging for food in an alley. He finds a soda bottle with some cola in it. He opens it and swigs down the last of it. He holds his jaw. He has a toothache and is in severe pain. He goes back to foraging and finds a very ornate bottle, much like a Crown Royal bottle. He opens the cap. There’s thunder and smoke and lightning and a genie appears. He holds out three fingers. Reggie holds out three fingers and is very excited. He thinks and thinks and then realizes, of course, his tooth! The genie nods, makes a grand gesture and, voila, his tooth is all better. Yay! He’s very happy about this. The genie reminds him that he has two more wishes left. Reggie thinks. He smells something. Hmmm, it’s him. He looks at the genie. The genie makes a grand gesture. Reggie notices something different. He peels off his overcoat revealing a crisp white leisure suit. He is very, very happy about this. The genie reminds him that he has one final wish. Reggie thinks hard about this. He is tormented by the decision. He has one…no, no, no, no… Now, he’s got the right one… um, no, not that one… The genie is getting impatient. Reggie finally has it. He makes a heart-shape sign with his fingers. The genie shrugs, makes a grand gesture, reaches into his pocket and hands Reggie a full bottle of Crown Royal. Reggie is elated. He thanks the genie. Some thunder, smoke and lightning later, the genie has left. Reggie can’t open the bottle. He bites the cap and we hear a crack. A broken tooth sends him into extreme pain. Blackout.)

Week 42, Day 293 - "Lake Rood"

“Lake Rood”

Written by Joe Janes

11/7/09

293 of 365

CAST

Theodore, 50s

Jeff, 30s

Pooper, ??

(Lights up on Theodore, a homeless man, rummaging through alley dumpsters looking for food. He comes across a framed painting.)

THEODORE

Lovely day for shopping at the local market. Hello, Mabel, how are you? How’s Vern? How are the kids? Why, no, I did not hear about Peter? Really? What a rascal! Well, she’s better off, let me tell you…Hello? What’s this? Somebody painted this. Somebody painted this, stuck it in a frame and someone threw it out in the trash. Looks like a train. Or a mill.

(Jeff walks by with his dog.)

THEODORE

Hey, mister. Got any change?

JEFF

No, Theodore. Not tonight. Just out walking my dog.

THEODORE

Yeah, yeah. Jeff, right? And his wonder mutt. Hey, you like art? You look like an art man to me. Or maybe your wife. Or your dog.

JEFF

What did you find there?

THEODORE

A painting. Look. I think it’s a train. Or a mill.

JEFF

Or a serene lake in autumn as if you were looking from the front porch of your father’s cabin where he died.

THEODORE

I suppose we all see what we want to see. That’s the point of art, right? Give it to you for ten bucks. You want to buy it?

JEFF

No. I want to strangle my wife.

THEODORE

That’s twenty. Cash only.

JEFF

I painted this. This is where I used to go as a kid with my dad. Lake Rood. R-o-o-d.

THEODORE

I know how to spell. Well, Jeff, I can see it has sentimental value. You can talk me down on the price.

JEFF

I don’t understand why Lacey threw it out. She knew it meant something to me. She never said anything bad about it, ever. It’s been on the wall above our sofa for years. Years. Longer than we’ve owned…him. (indicates the dog)

THEODORE

Guess that’s why I never got married. That and I’ve been told I have an aroma women find unattractive. Not a good one. Sort of like baby powder and vomit.

JEFF

I’ve never done anything bad to anything she owns.

THEODORE

Want me to see what I can get for it and give you a cut?

JEFF

This is her dog, too. I walk him every night. I do. Rain or no rain. She named him Pooper. Such a horrible name. I’m embarrassed to call him.

THEODORE

Pooper. That’s bad. It’s one thing if you gain a name like that as a nickname, but to intentionally be named that. Hey, Fuck Box! (Jeff looks at him.) That’s the last name someone called me. I deserved it for reasons I wish not to go into. I’m glad it didn’t stick.

JEFF

Oh, and look. It has a scratch in it. And some grape jelly.

(Theodore looks at the painting and licks off the jelly.)

THEODORE

You should get back at her.

JEFF

You’re right. I should. Here.

(He hands Theodore Pooper’s leash.)

THEODORE

Whoa, man. A dog? What am I going to do with a dog? I can’t even feed myself.

JEFF

Eat it. I don’t care. It’s not my dog. But I want my painting. My house, my painting. It goes where I say it goes. I’ll tell Lacey I traded the dog to get my painting back. That will serve her right.

(Theodore hands him the painting.)

THEODORE

Okay. I can probably get more money for, uh, man, I have to give him another name.

JEFF

Do that. He’ll be thankful.

(Jeff exits with the painting. Theodore sits Pooper down.)

THEODORE

Sit…Petey…Butch…Yeller…Fuck Box… (This last name excites Pooper.) Oh, you like that name. Okay, then, from this day forward you shall be known as Fuck Box. Let’s see if we can find us both some food, because if we don’t, that hind leg of yours is looking delish. That’s right, delish. I’m fancy.

(They walk off together as lights fade.)

Week 42, Day 292 - "Dear Cancer"

“Dear Cancer”

Written by Joe Janes

11/6/09

292 of 365

CAST:

Tim, 40s

Cancer, ??

Cancer II, ??

Cancer III, ??

UPS Person, 20s

(Lights up on Tim in a track suit stage right sitting at a desk writing a letter.)

TIM (writing)

Dear Cancer…You are not welcome in my body. The doctors tell me that not only do I need to have medical treatment, I need to get angry. I need to get angry at my cancer. Well, I’m writing this letter to tell you that you will not win this battle. I don’t like you. I hate you. You’re nothing but a bully and I am not afraid of you. In fact, you need to fear me, Cancer. Fear me because I am going to kick your butt. Sincerely, Tim Tompkins.

(Lights out on Tim as they come up stage left on Cancer, seated, writing a letter. Cancer is well-mannered, well-dressed and speaks with a British accent.)

CANCER (writing)

Dearest Timothy, Cancer here. Delightful to hear from you. Thrilled at the prospect of opening up these lines of communication. I am certainly disheartened to hear your feelings about me, but feel that anything may be resolved over a nice cup of tea. I so enjoy being wedged in here deep within your colon. Hope you don’t mind, I’ve thrown a few doilies about the place. It’s ever so homey. Cheers, Cancer.

(Lights out on Cancer, up on Tim, etc, as the piece progresses.)

TIM (writing)

Dear Mr. Cancer… I was not expecting you to write back. Nor was I expecting you to be British. Irregardless, no freeloaders in my colon. I will soon begin a heavy regiment of chemotherapy and fully expect you to hightail it out of there if you know what’s good for you. Go back where you came from…you limey. Sincerely, Tim Tompkins.

CANCER (writing)

Timothy…Message received. You are clearly a strong, brave American not to be trifled with. Regardless, I have already moved in and have invited a few of my friends to join me. They should be along. We will soon be playing a rousing game of cricket just inside your rectum. I’m working up some polyps to use as wickets. Do wish you could join us but I realize the geometric impossibility of that. Cheers, pip-pip and tut, Cancer.

TIM (writing)

In spite of your pleasant demeanor, I am still very mad that you have invaded my body and staked some kind of unwarranted claim inside my butt. The drugs and chemotherapy are painful and disorienting, but I’ll do what it takes to chase you out. That’s right, Cancer. It’s time for you to fuck off…Sincerely, Tim Tompkins.

(When lights come up on Cancer, he has been joined by several other well-dressed tumors. They are all enjoying the drugs.)

CANCER (writing)

Whoa, Timmy…these drugs are…wow…I hope you have universal healthcare, because I don’t want you to run out of money for this really top-notch shit.

CANCER II

Top-notch, Timmy! Top notch!

CANCER III

Three cheers for Timmy… Hip-hip-hooray!...Hip-hip-hooray!!!...Hip-hip-hooray!!!

(When lights come back up on Tim he is wearing a bald cap.)

TIM (writing)

Cancer. You seem to think this is some kind of game. Well, I am not playing. I am as serious as a heart attack. (He crosses the last few words out and rewrites) Butt attack. I will do whatever it takes to get your punk ass out of my not-punk ass. Today, I go under the knife. If you will not leave on your own, you will leave when doctors cut out a chunk of my colon. Don’t think I won’t do it. That part of my colon is five feet long. You may think you’re big, but you only take up a few inches. The doctors are going to take out a whole foot, just to make sure they get you and your stupid cheery friends. Take that, Sir Asshole.

(Lights up on Cancer’s chair. It is empty. Lights up on Tim smiling. We hear a doorbell.)

TIM

Come in.

(A UPS man or woman enters. Hands Tim a package and has him sign for it. After Tim signs, the UPS person stands there waiting.)

TIM

I just conquered cancer.

UPS

I’m thrilled.

TIM

I’m not going to tip you.

(The UPS person mumbles as they exit.)

UPS

Hope you get more cancer.

(Tim opens the box and takes out a small box of tea and a card. He reads the card. Lights come up on Cancer’s chair. All that is there is his arm writing.)

CANCER

Dear Tim… Good show! You really gave us the ol’ heave-ho. Bravo, my friend, bravo. I hope someday we meet again under better circumstances. Cheers. Cancer.

(Lights out on Cancer. Tim looks concerned as he feels an itch deep within his anus. Lights fade.)