Week 13, Day 89 - "Stella on Tuesdays"

“Stella on Tuesdays”
Written by Joe Janes
4/17/09
89 of 365

CAST
Roy, 20s
Bud, 20s
Stella, 20s

(Lights up on Roy, a tall skinny man with a goatee, standing behind the counter of a coffee shop, reading a paperback book. Bud, in business casual office attire, enters. He looks around and avoids eye contact with Roy.)

ROY

Can I help you?

BUD

No. That’s okay.

(Pause)

ROY

You have to buy some coffee or something. You can’t just stand around.

BUD

Is Stella here?

ROY

She’s on break.

BUD

Oh. (Looks at watch) I’ll wait, then.

ROY

You can’t just wait. You have to buy something. No loitering.

BUD

Fine. A cup of coffee. Black. For here.

(Roy gets him a cup.)

BUD (continuing)

I’m not a loiterer. I have a purpose.

(Roy shrugs)

ROY

$1.75

BUD

Here. (Hands him two bucks.) Keep the change.

(Stella enters from the back of the shop.)

STELLA

I’m back, Roy.

(Bud sees her and turns his back away from her. He quickly downs the hot coffee as best he can while burning his mouth and throat and making muffled sounds appropriate to such actions. Roy and Stella watch him. When he’s done, Bud turns to face them.)

ROY

I’m going to go on my break. Good luck with lover boy.

(He exits.)

STELLA

Hi, Bud.

BUD

Hi, Stella.

STELLA

What can I get for you today?

BUD

Oh, uh, just a refill.

(She gets him a refill as Bud watches her nervously.)

STELLA

Here you go. Fifty cents.

BUD (handing her a dollar)

Keep the change.

(Pause)

STELLA

Can I get you anything else?

BUD

Well, I was wondering-

STELLA

Yes?

(A desk bell ring is heard and lights shift to something more romantic. Bud rips open his shirt revealing a “Wrath of Kahn”-like chest. Stella’s hair blows in a breeze.)

BUD

Stella, I come her every Tuesday on my afternoon break from work just to see you.

STELLA

Just to see me, Bud.

BUD

Your green eyes and that green apron haunt my soul throughout the week. I long to taste the full caffeinated impact of your lips.

STELLA

Oh, Bud. No cream or sugar?

BUD

I like my women like I like my coffee. Draped in velvet and lying across my four-poster bed. And possibly a horse is involved.

(Desk bell rings. Lights turn to normal. Bud quickly buttons up his shirt.)

STELLA

Can I get you anything else?

BUD

Well, I was wondering-

STELLA

Yes?

(Desk bell rings and lights shift. Stella comes out from behind the counter taking revealing she’s wearing fishnet stockings.)

STELLA (continuing)

Get down on your knees, scum. What do you want in your coffee?

BUD

You, Mistress Stella, you!

STELLA

Lick my Doc Martens.

(He does so. The desk bell rings and they return to their original positions as lights shift back to normal.)

STELLA

Can I get you anything else?

BUD

Well, I was wondering-

STELLA

Yes?

(Desk bell rings, lights shift, they haven’t moved.)

BUD

I just want to tell you the truth. I don’t know why, but I think about you all the time. Your smile, your voice, and, yes, I’ll say it, even your magnificent ass. Life is short. Too short not to navigate life’s waters with my impulses. My urges. For instance, my urge to press that coffee stained bosom-loaded polo shirt against my chest. My urge to see what’s under that green apron of yours. I want to tamp down your espresso pod and pour my frothy steamed milk over the top.

STELLA (breathy and hot)

As a barista, I must tell you, that last sentence didn’t make sense.

(Desk bell rings, lights go back to normal.)

STELLA

Can I get you anything else?

BUD

Well, I was wondering-

STELLA

Yes?

BUD

I was wondering if you’d like to go out some time.

STELLA

What’s the point?

BUD

The point?

STELLA

Does it matter? Does it really matter? We’ll both be dead soon.

BUD

We will?

STELLA

Sure.

BUD

When?

STELLA

Maybe 40 years. 50, if we’re lucky.

BUD

That doesn’t seem so soon.

STELLA

It doesn’t now. It will on the other end. You’ll wonder where the time went. My point is there is no point. It doesn’t matter if we go out on a date. It doesn’t matter if we kiss. It doesn’t matter if we marry, copulate, procreate or just recreate till our bodies crumble. In the big scheme of things, it doesn’t make a difference. The universe doesn’t care. The universe is decidedly unabashedly unaffected by what happens here, right now, in this moment.

BUD

It if doesn’t matter, can’t we just get together because we want to?

STELLA

That’s the only reason there is,

BUD

Our we really having this conversation?

STELLA

Yes.

BUD

Do you want to go out with me?

STELLA

Yes. Just not for coffee.

BUD

Dinner?

STELLA

I get off at six.

BUD

Okay, then. I’ll see you at six.

(He exits. Roy returns, reading his book.)

ROY

Lover boy finally ask you out?

STELLA

Yeah.

ROY

You say yes?

STELLA

Yeah.

ROY

Think it will go anywhere?

STELLA (nonchalantly)

No.

(Lights fade as Stella wipes down the counter.)

Week 13, Day 88 - "Stripperer"

“Stripperer”
Written by Joe Janes
4/16/09
88 of 365

CAST
Old Man 1, 90s
Old Man 2, 90s
Mr. Pepperwinkle, 90s
Nurse, 40
Old Woman, 90s

(Lights up on two old men in wheel chairs in the “recreation” room of a nursing home. They look out of it, bored, half asleep. Mr. Pepperwinkle, equally out of it, is wheeled in next to them by a nurse.)

NURSE

There you go, Mr. Pepperwinkle. Now, you boys behave yourself.

(They lethargically groan at this, having heard the joke a million times. The nurse exits. A moment later, an old woman pulling along an IV drip on a squeaky-wheeled stand enters and crosses in front of them and walks over to the record player. She puts on a record and waits. We hear pops and scratches and then stripper music kicks in. She then does a sexy stripper dance, using her IV stand as a pole. The men cheer when she drops her robe and teases them with her hospital gown. She pulls her colostomy bag out and swings it as if it were on a chain. They cheer more. She takes out her teeth and pretends to bite one of the guys with them. More cheering. She takes out a glass eye. More cheering. She throws off her wig as she shakes her moneymaker. More cheering. She bumps and grinds to a big finish. Instead of throwing money, the men throw prescription pills. She gathers them up along with her things and wheels herself off. The three men sit there, eyes wide, breathing heavy, smiling. Nurse pokes her head back in.)

NURSE

You boys behaving?

(They grunt in response. She exits and they slowly fall back asleep. Blackout.)

Week 13, Day 88 - "Stripperer"

“Stripperer”
Written by Joe Janes
4/16/09
88 of 365

CAST
Old Man 1, 90s
Old Man 2, 90s
Mr. Pepperwinkle, 90s
Nurse, 40
Old Woman, 90s

(Lights up on two old men in wheel chairs in the “recreation” room of a nursing home. They look out of it, bored, half asleep. Mr. Pepperwinkle, equally out of it, is wheeled in next to them by a nurse.)

NURSE

There you go, Mr. Pepperwinkle. Now, you boys behave yourself.

(They lethargically groan at this, having heard the joke a million times. The nurse exits. A moment later, an old woman pulling along an IV drip on a squeaky-wheeled stand enters and crosses in front of them and walks over to the record player. She puts on a record and waits. We hear pops and scratches and then stripper music kicks in. She then does a sexy stripper dance, using her IV stand as a pole. The men cheer when she drops her robe and teases them with her hospital gown. She pulls her colostomy bag out and swings it as if it were on a chain. They cheer more. She takes out her teeth and pretends to bite one of the guys with them. More cheering. She takes out a glass eye. More cheering. She throws off her wig as she shakes her moneymaker. More cheering. She bumps and grinds to a big finish. Instead of throwing money, the men throw prescription pills. She gathers them up along with her things and wheels herself off. The three men sit there, eyes wide, breathing heavy, smiling. Nurse pokes her head back in.)

NURSE

You boys behaving?

(They grunt in response. She exits and they slowly fall back asleep. Blackout.)

Week 13, Day 87 - "Officer Arsenty"

“Officer Arsenty”
Written by Joe Janes
4/15/09
87 of 365

CAST
Tim, 20s
Neil, 20s
Officer Arsenty, 50s

(In the dark we hear a siren. Lights up on Tim and Neil in a car. Tim is driving. Behind them is Officer Arsenty in his car.)

TIM

Aw, crap. We’re being pulled over.

NEIL

Tim, you ran that red light.

TIM

It was yellow, Neil.

NEIL

Which is when you should have slowed down. It turned red. Like it always does after yellow.

(In the background, a rather rotund Officer Arsenty climbs out of his car and approaches the driver’s window. His movements are a little slow and deliberate. He carries a bone. Tim rolls down the window.)

TIM (continuing)

Evening, officer, sir.

(Officer Jobe just stares at him.)

TIM (continuing)

Is there a problem?

(Jobe lets out a big sigh. Tim gets a face full of booze fumes. He looks at Neil. Jobe wobbles a bit, and then shushes Tim. Jobe then staggers back a few feet and beckons Tim to “come here.” Tim slowly and reluctantly does.)

TIM (continuing)

Yes?

JOBE

I like you, son. What’s your name?

TIM

Tim.

JOBE

Jim. I like you, Jim. I’m Officer Jobe Arsenty.

(Jobe puts his hand on Tim’s shoulder)

NEIL

Hey, I can see you!

(Jobe pulls his gun.)

JOBE

Who’s there?

TIM

It’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just my friend, Neil. There. In the passenger’s seat.

JOBE

I have my eye on you.

NEIL

I doubt it.

(He drops his gun as he tries to put it away. He tries to pick it up and kicks it instead. Tim gets the gun and hands it to him.)

JOBE

Thank you, Jim.

NEIL

It’s Tim.

JOBE

Who the hell are you?

NEIL

I’m Neil. Tim’s friend.

JOBE

There ain’t no Tim, here. Get out of the car. (Neil opens the car door) Whoa! Slowly! Slowly!

NEIL

Okay. Okay. Don’t shoot me.

JOBE

Don’t you tell me what not to do. Where are you boys heading?

TIM

A party.

JOBE

Party boys, eh!

NEIL

My mom’s birthday party.

JOBE

That sickens me.

NEIL

Okay.

JOBE

You sicken me. Let me see you walk a straight line.

(Neil sighs and walks a straight line towards Jobe who points his bone at Neil like a gun.)

JOBE (continuing)

Stop or I’ll, or I’ll…bone you. Gun?

TIM

Right there.

JOBE

Oh. Thank you. You’re nice. But you-!

NEIL

You told me to move!

JOBE

Oh, yeah. Close your eyes and touch your nose.

(Neil does, easily.)

JOBE

Did he do it, Jim?

TIM

Yeah.

JOBE

Touch his nose.

NEIL

What?

JOBE

Don’t smart off, smarty. Close your eyes and touch Jim’s nose.

(Neil closes his eyes and manages to eventually touch Tim’s nose.)

JOBE

Did he do it?

TIM

Yeah. Poked my eye, too.

JOBE

That wasn’t part of the instructions. I’ll have to bring you in. Spread ‘em.

NEIL

Oh, come on!

JOBE

Get up against the car and spread your legs. I need to pat you down.

NEIL (doing so)

Oh, joy.

(Jobe walks up to Neil, starts to pat him down, but passes out against Neil while doing so.)

NEIL

Oh, God, get him off me. I feel his bone.

TIM

Yeah, yeah. Okay.

(Tim gets Jobe off Neil and sits him down on the road.)

NEIL

That guy is stinking drunk.

TIM

You think?

NEIL

Let’s go.

TIM

We can’t just leave him sitting in the road.

JOBE (coming to)

Jim. Jim. Come here.

TIM

What is it, Officer Jobe?

JOBE

Are you married? Got a girlfriend?

NEIL

You don’t have to answer that.

TIM (waving Neil to be quiet)

No, Jobe. I don’t have either, right now.

JOBE

Aw, that’s too bad. What about the other one? You got one.

NEIL

Yeah. A girlfriend. We might get married.

JOBE

Well, let me tell you something. Let me tell you both something. You find a girl you love with all your heart, hope you die first.

NEIL

Die first. Got it. We can go, now, right?

TIM

Jobe, why do you say that?

JOBE

Because Millie died a year ago. And it’s been hell. Sheer hell.

(Jobe starts crying into Tim’s chest. Tim reluctantly holds him.)

TIM

Jobe, I don’t think you should drive. Can we give you a lift somewhere?

JOBE

Aw, you don’t have to do that.

TIM

No, no, it’s okay. I insist. C’mon.

(Neil and Tim help Jobe get into the backseat of their car.)

TIM

There you go.

(Neil and Tim get in to the front seat. Tim starts driving.)

TIM (continuing)

You okay back there, Jobe?

JOBE

Yeah.Yeah. The station's just up the road a bit.

NEIL

Sorry about your wife.

JOBE

Why are you sorry about my wife?

NEIL

Just seems like a very sad thing to go through, losing your wife Millie.

JOBE

My wife ain’t dead. Millie’s was my cocker spaniel. I sure miss that pooch. Oh, Millie, oh, Millie…Why? Why?

(He starts wailing and kissing the bone. Lights fade.)

THE 365 VIDEO CHALLENGE!

Tuesday, April 28 will mark the 100th sketch posted on 365 Sketches. To honor the occasion, we at 365 headquarters (me) are issuing a video challenge! Create a video of one of the first 100 365 Sketches and post it to YouTube. Let me know when its posted using the comment section here. I'll link to the video for all to see. You have until midnight central time on April 28th to post. On Wednesday, April 29th, I'll announce the winner!

Ooh, and what does the winner receive?

A crisp ten dollar bill. In fact, this very one. Suitable for framing.

Week 13, Day 86 - "Dually Noted"

“Dually Noted”
Written by Joe Janes
4/14/09
86 of 365

CAST:
Larry, late 30s
Grace, late 30s

(Lights up on Larry, wearing sunglasses, sitting on a park bench looking around nervously. Possibly smoking a cigarette. Grace enters.)

GRACE

Larry?

LARRY

Grace!

(He quickly grabs her and makes her sit down on the bench.)

GRACE

Okay, really nice to see you, too.

LARRY

Did anyone see you?

GRACE

Sure, lots of people. We’re in a park. Larry, why are you being so clandestine?

LARRY

Uh -?

GRACE

Sneaky.

LARRY

Because, Grace, I’m a married man.

GRACE

And I’m a married woman. Doesn’t make it against the law for two old high school friends to meet and catch up.

LARRY

My wife might think differently if she knew I had this. (He takes a note out of his pocket.)

GRACE

What’s that?

LARRY

A note you wrote to me.

GRACE

I didn’t write you a note.

LARRY

Yes. You did. I found it in the lining of my varsity jacket.

GRACE

From our senior year in high school. Larry, I wrote that note twenty years ago. You just now found it?

LARRY

There was a hole in the pocket. I found it going through some old boxes.

GRACE

Guess I don’t feel so bad now about not hearing from you about it.

LARRY

Grace. I need to know if what you wrote in this note is true.

GRACE

Larry, I hardly remember what I wrote. That was a different time.

LARRY (reading note)

“I think you’re the greatest guy I have ever met. My love for you is forever. I want you to be my first.” Is it still true?

GRACE

It’s a little late. I’m married, now. With kids. So, are you.

LARRY

But, if I had found this note when you put it there, we’d probably be married. We’d probably have kids.

GRACE

But you didn’t and we’re not and we don’t. Scott Morton was my first.

LARRY

Scott Morton? That weenie?

GRACE

You didn’t respond to my note. He was available. We did it in his parent’s station wagon after the science fair. His Styrofoam model of an atom kept poking me in the ass. It was all very romantic. But, what’s done is done.

LARRY

It’s not fair. I didn’t know how you felt. Had I known-

GRACE

Did you feel the same way about me?

LARRY

Yes. Absolutely. I thought about you all the time. I was just too shy to do anything about it. A note like this would have given me the confidence I needed to ask out a girl as pretty as you.

GRACE

You thought I was pretty.

LARRY

Everyone did.

GRACE

Everyone?

LARRY

But you never said a word to me. I didn’t think you were interested.

GRACE

I was too shy. Whenever I was around you, my mouth and brain clamped shut. That’s why I poured my heart out in a note. And then it broke when I didn’t hear back from you. I feel a little better knowing it was just a mistake.

LARRY

A stupid, miserable mistake. What are we going to do?

GRACE

Do? There’s nothing to do.

LARRY

Are you happy, now, with -?

GRACE

Ted.

LARRY

Ted.

GRACE

Sure. I guess. I’m not unhappy. And you?

LARRY

Same. Very not unhappy. (Pause) What would we have done?

GRACE

What?

LARRY

If I did find your note and called you. What would you have wanted to do?

GRACE

Oh, I had it all planned out. We’d go to the roller rink. Then go to Dodge’s Beach. Build a fire. Go skinny-dipping in the lake. Sleep under the stars. Wake up to the sunrise together.

LARRY

Sounds nice.

GRACE

Yeah.

LARRY

The roller rink closed.

GRACE

So did Dodge’s Beach.

(Beat)

LARRY

The sun’s still in business.

GRACE

So’s the lake.

LARRY

Something to think about.

GRACE

Yep. Something to think about.

(Grace kisses Larry on the cheek and exits. Larry takes the note and crumples it up. He puts it in his pocket. Lights fade.)

Week 13, Day 85 - "War Is Hard Work"

“War Is Hard Work”
Written by Joe Janes
4/13/09
85 of 365

CAST:
Donny James, 30s
Director, 50s
Assistant, 20s

(Lights up on crooner Donny James in a spotlight finishing the end of his hit swinging song, “Lips Like Champagne.”)

DONNY (singing)

When you open your mouth,
Baby, I don’t complain,
You’re popping the cork on
Your lips of champay-nuh!

(The lights go to full work lights. A director comes out as an assistant hands Donny a towel and a martini.)

DIRECTOR

Good job. Donny. Take five, everybody! Take five!

(The director and assistant exit as Donny sits in a canvas director’s chair.)

DONNY

Hello, America. Donny “Sing for my Supper” James, here. You know, singing’s hard work. But even harder work is slapping on a uniform and fighting terrorists for our freedom far from home. But you can help. You might be thinking, “But, Donny, I’m not a soldier. I’m just a regular Jane or Joe. What can I do to help? Buy War Bonds?” Nope. “Ration food and gasoline?” Gosh, no. “Stop buying stuff made in foreign countries that support the enemy?” Don’t do that, either. We owe those people lots of money and we don’t want to ruffle any feathers. The best thing you can do, Joe or Janes Red-White-And-Blue, is nothing at all. Pay your taxes, watch television, avoid the real news and, for god’s sake, keep your mouth shut. Swallow those feelings of injustice and morality and keep them down with a big plug of patriotism. If we end the war, it will put millions of people out of work and panhandling on Main Streets here in the good ol’ U.S.A. We’re Americans, victory is our business, but not just yet.

ASSISTANT (entering)

You’re needed back on the set Mr. James.

DONNY (handing her his towel and martini)

Work is hard. (Gets out of chair) But being a godless, penniless communist is harder.

(Blackout as he puts a finger over his lips, winks and exits.)

Week 12, Day 84 - “The Tip, Or Lack Thereof”

“The Tip, Or Lack Thereof”
Written by Joe Janes
4/12/09
84 of 365

CAST:
Customer
Waiter

(Lights up on a waiter picking up the check from the table of a customer. The waiter notices a small business-like card with the money.)

WAITER

What’s this?

CUSTOMER

That explains why I am not tipping you.

WAITER

Did you have a problem with the service?

CUSTOMER

I am not tipping you, as the card explains, because I do not believe in tipping. I believe in paying the price on the menu for my food. If the restaurant wants you to get part of it, they should charge me more and give you a higher wage.

WAITER

Tipping is the way the restaurant keeps cost down and I make a living.

CUSTOMER

I do not believe in it.

WAITER

Yeah, well, I don’t believe in assholes, but guess what?

(Blackout)