Week 15, Day 102 - "Truckin'"

“Truckin’”
Written by Joe Janes
4/30/09
102 of 365

CAST
Debra, 40s
Sean, 40s

(Lights up on Sean and Debra riding in the cab of a semi-truck. Sean is driving.)

DEBRA

So, Sean…

SEAN

Yeah?

DEBRA

That little restaurant was nice.

SEAN

You mean that big restaurant was nice.

DEBRA

I did. I did. Who doesn’t enjoy an all-you-can-eat buffet?

SEAN

And did you?

DEBRA

Get all I can eat? Yep. I believe I did.

SEAN

Thanks for meeting me there. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you at the airport. They’re a little weird about me pulling up to the pick-up area in this thing.

DEBRA

You’re truck is huge.

SEAN

Thank you.

DEBRA

You drive this thing everywhere?

SEAN

Everywhere except the airport. And anywhere there’s an overpass with less than fifteen feet clearance.

DEBRA

Even to work?

SEAN

Everywhere.

DEBRA

I never dated anyone who had a truck, before.

SEAN

Good. That means I’m unique. Why don’t you walk on over here and sit closer?

DEBRA

Sit closer where?

SEAN (reaches back and pulls out a milk crate and sets it next to him)

Here you go. Sit right here. (She does.) Better, isn’t it?

DEBRA

I don’t feel as safe.

SEAN

You’re plenty safe. This is a big ass truck. Nothing safer. Um, hold on to my seatbelt.

DEBRA (she does)

I think I’d feel-

SEAN

Here. Let me pull over. (He does. We hear air brakes and gears shifting and grinding as he comes to a stop.) That better?

DEBRA

Yeah. That’s better. Thanks.

SEAN

Pretty night. You get a good view up this high.

DEBRA

Uh-hunh. Sean. Can I say something?

SEAN

Sure, Debra.

DEBRA

It’s nice to meet you in person after weeks on-line.

SEAN

Ditto.

DEBRA

You’re not exactly what I expected.

SEAN

Really? You’re exactly what I thought you’d be. Maybe prettier, though. (He winks.)

DEBRA

I thought you worked in the import industry.

SEAN

Oh, I see. Yes, I did. But I don’t anymore. I went into business for myself.

DEBRA

Recently?

SEAN

Just last week.

DEBRA

I see.

SEAN

I transitioned from buying and selling to distribution.

DEBRA

This truck isn’t just for fun, then.

SEAN

Oh, it is. It’s a helluva lot of fun. But, yeah, it’s also where I work. I’ve always wanted to drive a truck, so, hey, I’m following my dream. Seize the day! That sort of thing.

DEBRA

Well, that’s a good thing, I guess.

SEAN

Getting laid off helped me make the decision.

DEBRA

Hmm.

SEAN

Best thing that ever happened to me. Really, really. Took all my credit cards and bought this sweet rig.

DEBRA

How about we get out of your workplace go back to your home? Give me a tour of your house. Relax with some wine.

SEAN

Okay. (He stands, takes her hand, and takes a step back from the chairs.) Welcome to my humble abode.

DEBRA

You live in a truck.

SEAN

Oh, it’s made for it. That shelf pulls down into a bed. And, if you still want some wine, there’s some Thunderbird and paper cups in that cubbyhole.

DEBRA

I thought you owned a townhouse.

SEAN

Owned is right. The bank owns it now. And good riddance. Nothing but a pain with all those bills and room.

DEBRA

Sean. I’m not sure about this. At all. I think you’re in a time of transition. You need to work things out.

SEAN

I see. You’ve already made a decision about me.

DEBRA

I’m here. I came all the way from Ohio to be with you for the whole weekend. We may as well make the best of it. (Picks up a coffee can.) Hey, I’ll make some coffee. Is there a foldout kitchen I’m not seeing?

SEAN

That’s where I poop.

DEBRA

Ew.

SEAN

Don’t open the lid.

(Blackout)

Week 15, Day 101 - "Dum-Dums"

“Dum-Dums”
Written by Joe Janes
4/29/09
101 of 365

CAST:
Rudy, 20s
Ryan, 40s

(Lights up on Rudy waiting for a bus. Rudy is on his cell phone. Ryan is watching him.)

RUDY (on phone)

Still waiting on the bus, Liz. As soon as it gets here, I’m heading straight home. Yeah, it’s been a long day. See you soon. Love you.

(He puts his phone away.)

RYAN

Hey, man. I’m running late. Can I use your phone to call my wife?

RUDY

Uh, no. Sorry. The batteries running low. I just turned it off.

(Ryan pulls out a gun.)

RYAN

Then how about I take your wallet? I’ll go by me a phone.

RUDY

Why you little snot. I may be older than you, but I’m bigger could beat the tar out of you.

RYAN

Good thing I have a gun and you have a brain. Now, let me have your wallet.

(Rudy hands Ryan a wallet. Ryan takes it and throws it away.)

RUDY

Hey, what did you do that for?

RYAN

Because that was your fake “just in case I get mugged” wallet.

RUDY

How did you know that?

RYAN

It’s thin, cheap, came out of your jacket and you gave it up all too quickly.

RUDY

Fine. Here.

(Rudy hands Ryan his real, more substantial wallet.)

RYAN

That’s more like it. Can’t believe you think I’m stupid enough to fall for a decoy wallet.

RUDY

You know, armed robbery is an automatic prison sentence.

RYAN

It is if the gun is real.

(Ryan makes some clicking sounds with it showing it’s just a plastic toy. They realize what he just did and Ryan bolts off stage with Rudy in quick pursuit. Blackout)

Week 15, Day 100 - "Death To Tyrants!"

“Death To Tyrants!”
Written by Joe Janes
4/28/09
100 of 365

CAST:
Bilford Pettigrew
Spangler
John Wilkes Booth
Vernon
Various soldiers, policemen
and historical figures

(Lights up on a dressing room, April 14, 1865. Bilford sits in formal attire of the time. He looks over a manuscript, mumbling to himself, delivering inaudible snippets into the mirror. Spangler, an experienced stagehand, sits near the door.)

SPANGLER

So dedicated to your profession, Bilford. He has never needed an understudy, and yet you persist on committing to memory that which you will never deliver to an audience.

BILFORD

Well, you just never know. Anything could happen, Spangler.

SPANGLER

The play’s nearly over. If I were you, I’d be studying the bottom of a stein at the tavern across the street.

BILFORD

You are not I, Spangler. You are just a stagehand. When and if I am ever needed, I am at the ready. Even if it’s in the middle of a performance. Even if it’s the last few moments before the curtain falls.

SPANGLER

Nothing will happen. What a shame for you. You won’t get to perform for the president.

BILFORD

Does not matter to me if it’s the president or the queen of England or Christ our savior. As long as there is one audience member to receive my craft, I will deliver undaunted. Dedicated as I am to the play.

(Offstage we hear a gunshot and John Wilkes Booth yelling, “Sic semper tyrannis!” he quickly hobbles into the dressing room. We hear the audience in an uproar.)

BILFORD

John! What happened?

JOHN

Oh, you know. Just trying something new.

BILFORD

Wow! Listen to that crowd.

SPANGLER

You really got them riled up.

JOHN

Yeah. I killed. Listen, Bilford, I hurt my leg.

BILFORD

Fear not, John. I am ready to step in and carry on, as best I can, in your boot steps. The audience will not leave lacking for entertainment. President Lincoln will see the best show of his life.

JOHN

Um, yeah. You go do that. Jump right in to Act Three. I’m going to borrow your horse and head over to a doctor’s.

BILFORD

You do what you need to do. I am going to put on one heck of a show!

(Bilford makes a grand exit. John tries to hobble off.)

JOHN

A little help?

SPANGLER

Oh, certainly.

(Spangler helps John off. Cut to the stage. Bilford enters and he dives right in to his monologue.)

BILFORD

Don't know the manners of good society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal--you sockdologizing old man-trap. (Three men run across the stage shouting, “Stop that man! He went out the back!”) Wal, now, when I think what I've thrown away in hard cash to-day I'm apt to call myself some awful hard names…(More men cross carefully carrying the body of Lincoln followed by a sobbing Mary Todd) But I dare no more ask that gal to be my wife, than I dare ask Queen Victoria to dance a Cape Cod reel….Now, listen here. I know I am just an understudy, but I have never encountered a more rude audience. Seriously, brandishing firearms? Crossing the stage to carry out some sozzled drunk in the midst of a performance. This is not some saloon out west. We are civilized folk. I beseech you, take your seats. Quiet yourselves. Open your ears. I may not be as renown as John Wilkes Booth, but I am a fine actor who will do justice to this role.

(Vernon in audience starts booing.)

BILFORD

Booing? You are booing me, sir? Well, I boo you. Boo, I say! Boo!

VERNON

I paid my twenty-five cents. I want to see a show!

BILFORD

And indeed you will. …You see, as nigh as we could reckon it up, she had gone and got married again his will, and that made him mad, and well, he was a queer kind of a rusty fusty old coon, and it appeared that he got older, and rustier, and fustier and coonier every fall, it was too much for him. He got took down with the ague, he was so bad the doctors gave him up, and mother she went for a minister. The old Squire was sitting up in his bed, his face as pale as the sheet that covered him, his silken hair flowing in silvery locks from under his red cap, and the tears rolling from his large blue eyes down his furrowed cheek, like two mill streams. Wal, says he to me, and his voice was not as loud as it was afore-- it was like the whisper of the wind in a pine forest, low and awful. `Asa, boy,' said he, 'I feel that I've sinned in hardening my heart against my own flesh and blood,” and then he smiled, sank back upon his pillow, drew a long sigh as if he felt relieved, and that was the last of poor old Mark Trenchard.

(Bilford takes several deep bows. Vernon stands and applauds.)

VERNON

Bravo! Bravo! President shouldn’t have ditched out before the ending. That was sweeter than sweet cider right out of the bunghole. Bravo!

(Blackout)

Week 15, Day 99 - "John Irvingness"

“John Irvingness”
Written by Joe Janes
4/27/09
99 of 365

CAST
CASEY, 40
MIRIAM, 30s
JAKE, 50s
NANCY, 60s
ALEX, 20s

(Lights up on Casey sitting at a table by himself with a stack of books. He takes one of the books and opens it up to a bookmarked page. He clears his throat and begins to read to the audience. The other characters are among the audience members in the house.)

CASEY

Rose was a magical waif of a teenaged girl who liked to dress up in a squirrel costume nearly twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Year round. Nigh on a decade. She only removed the tail to take care of business in the bathroom. She sometimes removed the head to help facilitate eating and drinking, of which she did very little, save for apples and apple juice. She loved apples. Red, shiny apples. She only removed the costume entirely when she bathed, which was not on any regular schedule, but only at the insistence of her close-quartered family about once a month. She would remove the body of the suit when she wrestled in her BVD underwear, but kept the head on for its protective qualities in the ring. One wrestler, Craig Pincers of Danbury High, once got Rose in the nearly impenetrable Wasserman Hook Hold which had the ill-effect, for Rose, of popping off her squirrel facial façade like a champagne cork. Locked in a tight embrace, their eyes met, Rose’s frozen in fear, Craig’s heated and laser-like. They held each other frozen in time until Craig quickly and suddenly and shamefully broke free once he became aware that his athletic cup was becoming filled with firm Craigness.

(Satisfied. He takes in a pause and sets the book down.)

CRAIG (Continuing)

And that, my friends, is from Chapter Three of my latest novel, Scurrying to Live by Casey P. Adams. Does anyone have any questions or comments?

MIRIAM

You say this is your latest novel?

CASEY

Indeed, it is.

MIRIAM

How many other novels have you written?

CASEY

This is my fifth novel.

MIRIAM

I tried to find-

CASEY

This is my first published novel, Miriam Tobin from the Orlando Times. Available only here. At Borders.

MIRIAM

I see.

CASEY

Any other questions?

JAKE

Do I need a token for the bathroom?

CASEY

Ha! I wouldn’t know that. You’ll have to ask one of the employees here.

NANCY

Casey, I have a question. Rose likes to dress like a squirrel yet her favorite thing to eat is an apple. Seems odd, for a squirrel.

CASEY

I haven’t heard a question, yet.

NANCY

Well, why apples? Why not nuts?

CASEY

Ooh, two questions for the price of one. I’ll tell you. Apples are more romantic. They are red, round, smooth, firm, shiny and… forbidden. Delicious stuff. I spend twenty pages of chapter eight just describing the apples sitting in a bowl in Rose’s room. It’s a metaphor for fruit. Whereas nuts, I concede, may be more apropos for a squirrel, but describing them is absolutely no fun once you have it stuck in your head that they all look like scrota.

NANCY

Scrota?

CASEY

The plural of scrotum.

JAKE

Is today the day I can get 10% off all the books on the first floor.

CASEY

I wouldn’t know. Maybe. Not this one, though. This is only available full price. $25. Cash.

MIRIAM

I see in your press release that you are often compared to John Irving.

CASEY

That is true. Just like Irving, I often will go on and on and on about the littlest things. I am not afraid to boldly delve into the minutia and mine it for what it has to say about us, about life.

MIRIAM

And Casey, who, exactly, compares you to John Irving?

CASEY

Many people. People who have read my books.

MIRIAM

And since four of those books have yet to be published and this one just came out thanks to (She reads the inside of her copy) CaseyCo Books, who are these people?

CASEY

They-

MIRIAM

Other than friends and family.

CASEY

It’s not family, believe me. I have loyal readers. Prior to publishing this hard copy of my book, excerpts did appear on-line on my professional website “Casey P. Adams, author.”

MIRIAM

What’s the URL for that?

CASEY

www.theworldaccordingtocasey.blogger.com.

MIRIAM

I see.

JAKE

Anybody can compare themselves to someone else. People compare me to Dick Cavett all the time. Penis size and everything.

NANCY

Me, too!

CASEY

Let me know when your review comes out, Miriam. I’d love to have a quote from you on my website.

MIRIAM

You may not after I write it.

CASEY

Any other questions? If not, I’d like to read thirty pages from chapter sixty-three where Rose ponders her reflection in a puddle at the base of a tree sans squirrel head.

(People start mumbling excuses and getting up.)

ALEX (from the far back)

I have a question. What do you do for a living?

CASEY

I am an author, clearly.

ALEX

You make a living doing this?

CASEY

I, well, I also work in the industry.

ALEX

Really?

CASEY

Yes. It is an industry-related position.

ALEX

Then why aren’t you behind the counter doing it, right now, Mr. Adams?

CASEY

Mr. Thomerson! I-I didn’t recognize you, at first. I thought you were off today.

JAKE

I knew it! That guy owes me a coupon for free coffee. He failed to smile and give me my receipt last week.

CASEY

That’s not store policy!

JAKE

Is, too!

CASEY

What do you know? You’re a homeless person.

JAKE

Hey! I am a not-quite-homeless person.

MIRIAM

I knew you weren’t legit.

NANCY

Of course not. He doesn’t know nuts about squirrels.

CASEY

I am a Borders sales associate and very happy with my job here, Mr. Thomerson.

ALEX

Then why in hell are you trying to pass yourself off as a published author?

CASEY

I clocked out.

ALEX

That didn’t answer my question

CASEY

It’s my birthday, Mr. Thomerson. My 40th birthday. My dream is to be a published author who does book signings for all his fans. I just wanted to live my dream.

ALEX

Working at a bookstore doesn’t make you an author. If you want us to sell your book, you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.

CASEY

I’ve tried that. No one will publish it.

ALEX

Well, until someone does, we don’t sell your book here. How many copies do you have?

CASEY

Just these five here. And about a hundred in the trunk of my Aztec.

ALEX

The book signing’s over. Time to get back to work, Mr. Adams. Oh, and happy birthday. Get yourself a free “day old” dessert from the café.

(Casey gets up, picking up his books.)

CASEY

Sure thing, Mr. Thomerson. I just need to go to the bathroom for a few minutes to, uh, collect myself.

JAKE

Here. You’ll need a token.

(Blackout)

Week 14, Day 98 - “Bonuses"

“Bonus”
Written by Joe Janes
4/26/09
98 of 365

CAST:
Mandy, 30s
Tyrell, 30s
Ed, 30s

(Lights up on three office workers. Mandy is handing out envelopes to the other two and holds one herself.)

MANDY

Don’t get your hopes up, everyone. They cut back on bonuses this year.

TYRELL

That sucks. We worked extra hard to make less this year.

ED

We kept the company afloat. We should get more. (They open their envelopes.) So, what’d everybody get?

TYRELL

A fifty-dollar bill.

MANDY AND ED

Ooh. Ouch. That hurts, etc.

ED (looks in envelope)

Don’t feel bad. All I got was a two dollar bill and someone wrote “Happy Birthday, Billy” on it in ballpoint pen.

MANDY AND ED

That’s pretty bad,Ed. Yikes, etc.

MANDY (looks in envelope)

Well, you all made out better than me. All I got was a free month of Netflix. It sucks being the CEO.

(Blackout)

Week 14, Day 97 - “Walter Goldstein, Angry Hip-Hop Poet”

“Walter Goldstein, Angry Hip-Hop Poet”
Written by Joe Janes
4/25/09
97 of 365

CAST:
Jenny, 20s
Walter, 20s

(Lights up on Jenny, dark clothes and glasses, at a microphone.)

JENNY

Welcome, everyone, to the Surge for Global Peace. Thanks for coming out and fighting for the end of violence on our planet. In the back, my mom made falafels. Hi, Mom. Help yourself, but please only take one until we know if we have enough for everyone to have two. We have lots of performers and lecturers here today. First up, is a well-known hip hop poet, and my boyfriend, please put your hands together, for Walter Goldstein!

(Walter comes on stage. He is a white guy with white guy dreadlocks and he looks angry. He and Jenny kiss passionately. She exits. Walter grabs the microphone from the stand.)

WALTER (still angry)

What’s up, SGP? I am Walter Goldstein, hip-hop poet. And I come with a message of both peace and love. Here is a poem I wrote just for this event. It’s called “Message of Both Peace and Love.”

Welcome y’all to the Surge for Global Peace,
Roll up your world sleeves, give some elbow grease,
Time for us to start use some violence,
Show these idjits that they are just real dense,
Fighting for peace with my army of love,
My bombs ‘splode with the shrapnel of a dove.
The piece I carry is a piece of peace,
Shoot slugs of friendship into your face…feece
I don’t do drugs for I am high on life,
Get me to rehab, I’m high as a kite.
Won’t stop fighting till there’s tranquility,
Fists of peace pummel possibility,
High speed Peace Trains are coming down the tracks,
Splitting cows of war just like it was an ax,

Who wants hamburger?

I love you, daddy.

Peace in.

(He drops the mic and exits. Blackout.)

Week 14, Day 96 - "UPS Sucks"

“UPS Sucks”
Written by Joe Janes
4/24/09
96 of 365

CAST:
Joe, 40s
Tanya, 30s

(Lights up on Joe, 40s, in a t-shirt, jeans and flip-flops, standing outside the gate of a courtyard apartment late on a Friday afternoon. He checks his watch and looks around. He sees someone coming. He pretends to just be hanging out waiting, looking at his Blackberry. Tanya, an out-of-shape UPS person, approaches the intercom near the front gate. She has a clipboard and a small package. She looks at the intercom system. She scribbles something onto a pad and puts a sticky label on intercom. She starts to walk away.)

JOE

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

TANYA

Yes?

JOE

Aren’t you going to even try the intercom to see if the person is home?

TANYA

They’re probably not. This is the second attempt. We tried
yesterday at the same time. They probably have a day job or something. Pretty standard. It’s an apartment building, not a business.

JOE

But you don’t know. You didn’t even try.

TANYA

Fine. I’ll try. (She looks at the intercom list, turned away from Joe, and presses the number for the deliveree. Through the system, we hear a phone ring. Joe’s phone rings.)

JOE (turning away from Tanya)

Hello?

TANYA

UPS.

JOE

About time.

(He presses a button on his phone that makes a loud buzzing sound at the gate. Tanya opens the gate and sets the package on the ground.)

TANYA

Guess you were right.

(She starts to walk away.)

JOE

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are you going?

TANYA

I left the package. I’m done.

JOE

Don’t you think they might be waiting for you in their apartment? Aren’t you supposed to deliver it to their door?

TANYA

It’s late on a Friday afternoon. Traffic sucks. I have more deliveries.

JOE

All you did was set it inside the gate of the courtyard on the sidewalk. I could just reach in and grab it.

TANYA

That would be against the law.

JOE

Too bad sucking at your very simple job isn’t against the law. But, I guess neither of us will get caught. You’ll be off in your brown truck and I’ll be halfway down the street before this guy knows his package aint’ making it to his front door.

(Tanya presses buttons on the intercom, again. Joe’s phone rings and she sees it this time.)

TANYA

Hey, what are you trying to pull?

JOE

What are you trying to pull? I’ve been holed up in my apartment all day waiting for this goddamn package. It was supposed to be here by two. I haven’t even showered yet because I was afraid you might show up. (He picks it up through the gate.) I had to call customer service twice to get you to come back here because this morning you also only left that stupid sticky notice without trying the intercom.

TANYA

It’s just a stupid package. What could possibly be in there that’s so GD important? What is this precious thing that you summoned into your life to make your existence better? Let me guess. Porn? Something porn-related? Or is it, porn? Whatever it is, is it really worth waiting for?

JOE

You want to see what’s in here? I’ll show you. (Joe opens it and pulls out something that looks like an electric razor.)

TANYA

What the hell is that? A manly vibrator?

JOE

Nope. (Joe touches her with it and she falls to the ground twitching.) Tazer. And, yeah. That was worth waiting for.

(Joe steps over her shaking body and through the gate back towards his apartment. Lights out.)