Week 25, Day 170 - "Bedtime Stories"

“Bedtime Stories”
Written by Joe Janes
7/7/09
170 of 365

CAST:
Wally, 40s
Fran, 40s
Connor, 6

(Lights up on Wally, sitting in a chair in his living room, reading a Tom Clancy novel and listening to softly playing classical music. Next to him is another chair and next to it on the floor is a sewing basket. Fran enters and sits in the chair near him.)

FRAN

The kids are all in bed.

WALLY

I think this is my favorite time of the day.

FRAN

It’s quiet.

WALLY

Did you read them a story?

FRAN (opening up her sewing basket)

I did. I read them The Emperor’s New Clothes.

WALLY

Oh, really? I didn’t know we had that. Hmmm.

FRAN

Don’t worry. I left out the part where he parades around in his underwear.

WALLY

Oh, good. I think they’re just too young for that.

(Fran begins to roll a joint.)

FRAN

I just left it at the emperor getting some fancy new duds that only smart people can see. I showed them the pictures in the book and they pretended they could see his clothes, too.

WALLY

I like that. Bet it made them feel special.

FRAN (lighting up)

Honey… (She snaps her fingers and points.)

WALLY

Oh.

(He picks up a remote and switches the classical music to The Grateful Dead.)

FRAN (exhaling)

That’s better.

(She passes the joint over to Wally. He takes a toke and passes it back.)

WALLY

Time to get comfortable.

(He takes off his pants, tosses them aside, sits back down and resumes reading.)

FRAN

Our kids are so lucky.

WALLY

They sure are.

FRAN

We’re happily married. We’re not on welfare. We have a college fund. Complete coverage.

WALLY

Other kids should be so lucky.

(Connor enters.)

CONNOR

Mom, Dad, can I have a drink of water?

WALLY

What’s the magic word, Sport?

CONNOR

Please?

FRAN

That’s better. No, Connor. You cannot.

WALLY

You’ll wet the bed.

CONNOR

But I’m thirsty.

FRAN

Connor.

WALLY

I’m counting to three. One-

CONNOR

Okay, I’m going back to bed.

(He kisses Fran on the cheek and hugs Wally.)

WALLY

That’s a good boy.

CONNOR

I like your pants, Dad.

WALLY

Hunh?

CONNOR

Just like the emperor’s.

WALLY

Oh. Right.

FRAN

They are very handsome trousers, Wally.

CONNOR

Did you sew them, Mom?

FRAN

Why, yes, I did. Now, off to bed, with you.

CONNOR

Good night.

WALLY

Sweet dreams, Sport.

FRAN

And don’t wake Dakota, Tiffany, Shane, Zac, or Trig when you get back in bed.

CONOR

I won’t.

(Connor exits.)

FRAN

They are so lucky to have us.

WALLY

I do like these pants.

FRAN

Me, too.

(They continue to pass the joint as lights fade.)

Week 25, Day 169 - "Twi-Lite"

“Twi-Lite”
Written by Joe Janes
7/6/09
169 of 365

CAST
Edward, 13
Emily, 13
Bella, 13
Mrs. Cullen, 40s


(Lights up on Edward, a pale, slightly overweight 13-year-old sitting on a swing in the school playground. He looks as though his mother dressed him. His beat-up Spiderman backpack is at his feet. He is squinting at the sun. Off to the side and behind, Bella and Emily appear. They have been watching him. Emily is carrying one of the Twilight vampire books. Emily whispers into Bella’s ear and they giggle.)

BELLA

Are you sure?

EMILY

He has to be, Emily. He’s new, he’s a stranger, and he’s mysterious.

(Edward picks his nose and wipes it on his sweater under his arm.)

BELLA

He’s such a savage.

EMILY

See? Only a bloodthirsty animal would do that. Go talk to him.

(Emily pushes Bella. Bella turns to Emily and shoo’s her away. Emily exits.)

BELLA

Hey, new boy.

EDWARD

Hey.

BELLA

My name’s Bella. It’s not my real name. My real name is Sarah, but I don’t like it. I make people call me Bella. What’s your name?

EDWARD

Edward.

BELLA

Edward,really? I just knew it. You’re all shiny.

EDWARD

It’s hot out here. My mom makes me wear a sweater.

(Bella sits in the swing next to him.)

BELLA

You moved here with your family? Do you do that a lot? Move from town-to-town? So people can’t hunt you down?

EDWARD

I have special needs.

BELLA

Oh, so, do I, Edward.

EDWARD

Really? I didn’t see you in the special needs class.

BELLA

Edward. I know who you are. I know what you are. (She stands.) I want you to turn me.

EDWARD

Okay.

(He stands and faces her. He places his hands on her shoulders; she closes her eyes, and then, turns her so she is facing the other way. He sits back down. She opens her eyes.)

BELLA

Hey! You’re toying with my affections. Aren’t I good enough for you? Don’t you think I’m pretty? Oh, of course. I see. You’re fighting your urges. You don’t want to be a monster. (She kneels down and takes his hands.) It’s okay, Edward. I want this. I want to be one of you.

EDWARD

Okay.

(He opens up his backpack and hands her a safety helmet.)

EDWARD

Put this on. I’m supposed to wear it all the time, but it makes me feel stupid. If you wear one, I won’t feel so bad.

(They both put on the helmets.)

BELLA

I didn’t know about this part, but it makes sense. You run and jump so fast.

EDWARD

That’s what my mom says.

BELLA

Now will you bite me?

EDWARD

Okay.

(Edward bites her arm.)

BELLA

OW! Hey, that hurt!

EDWARD

Because I bit you.

BELLA

You’re supposed to hypnotize me first.

EDWARD

Okay.

(He makes a wavy motion with his hand. Bella responds like she’s a little faint. She closes her eyes.)

BELLA

I can feel it. Now, bite me.

(Edward looks at her and isn’t sure where to bite her. He gets down on all fours and bites her leg.)

BELLA (jumping away)

Ow! That freakin’ hurts! What’s wrong with you?

(Mrs. Cullen, Edward’s mom enters.)

MRS. CULLEN

Edward! What were you doing?

EDWARD (runs to his mom)

Mom!

MRS. CULLEN

What were you doing to this poor girl?

EDWARD

She wanted me to bite her.

MRS. CULLEN

Not again.

BELLA

So he is a vampire.

MRS. CULLEN

No, he’s not. But every teenage girl who’s read Twilight thinks he is.

BELLA

But he’s pale, and he’s shiny in the daylight, and he’s broody. Speaks very few words. And he bit me, twice.

MRS. CULLEN

He’s not a vampire. He’s mentally challenged.

BELLA

He’s a retard?

MRS. CULLEN

If that’s what you want to call it. Looks like he’s turned you into one, too.

(Bella takes off the helmet and throws it on the ground.)

BELLA

He can’t do that, can he?

MRS. CULLEN

Oh, sure. It’s like getting rabies. Better stay away from him, but, judging from your shiny forehead, it might be too late.

(Bella wipes seat off her brow.)

BELLA

Oh, no. Oh, no! Emily! Emily! He’s turned me into a retard!

(She runs off.)

EMILY (off)

Ew, stay away from me!

EDWARD

Are we going to have to move, again?

MRS. CULLEN

I don’t think so, Eddie. Just don’t bite people because they ask you to.

EDWARD

Okay. I love you, Mom.

MRS. CULLEN

I love you, too. Let’s go find some rats to feed on.

EDWARD (clapping hands)

Yay! Rats!

(Blackout)

Week 24, Day 168 - "New Blood"

“New Blood”
Written by Joe Janes
7/5/09
168 of 365

CAST
Mr. Brown, 50s
Lillie, 18


(Lights up on a park bench in the downtown square of a small town in Ohio. Seated on the far end of the bench is LILLIE, 18, casually and conservatively dressed. Sitting on the other end is MR. BROWN, late 50’s. He wears a sports coat, khakis, a blue button down shirt and a Looney Tunes necktie. He is holding a manila envelope. She looks pensive.)

MR. BROWN

Did you hear what I said?

LILLIE

Yes. Yes, I heard.

MR. BROWN

I know that’s not what you expected to hear, Lillie.

LILLIE

Mr. Brown, you lied to me.

MR. BROWN

I have it right here. I was hoping you’d come to your own conclusions…think about what’s best for everybody.

LILLIE

I have good grades. A scholarship. I can’t throw that away.

MR. BROWN

You’re smart. Smart as a whip. You think things through. People like you, students and teachers. You’re a good egg. We need you here, Lillie.

LILLIE

But it’s what I want, Mr. Brown.

MR. BROWN

Hoo, boy. I have seen and heard this so many times. Not from you. Over the years as the high school guidance counselor. I was the same way, too, at your age. It was all about me and what I wanted. No thought to the community. It’s like rats jumping off a sinking ship. That’s why I wanted you to meet me here.

LILLIE

In beautiful downtown nowhere, Ohio.

MR. BROWN

It’s a joke to you. It’s a joke to all you young people. I guess I don’t blame you. But you can change it.

LILLIE

This place is dead. It even smells like old people.

MR. BROWN

You see this?

(He points to the armrest in the middle of the park bench.)

LILLIE

It’s an armrest. So?

MR. BROWN

An armrest. On a park bench? Do you really think that’s necessary? Know why it’s really here?

LILLIE

To rest one’s weary arm.

MR. BROWN

So homeless people don’t bunk on it. Wouldn’t want to offend the little old ladies with such an unwholesome sight. Especially right here near the courthouse. It wasn’t always like this. Not so long ago, and I know I sound like an old fart saying all this, that plumbing and heating
supply store over there used to be a movie theater. That’s why their sign looks like a marquee. I took my wife there when she was your age. You know that flea market on the weekends out on Route 2. It used to be a drive-in. Took my wife there, too. We didn’t watch too many movies there, though.

LILLIE

Thanks for the walk down memory lane and the horrible image of you and your wife now burned into my brain. I guess I’ll have to send in my own college applications.

MR. BROWN

I’ll send it in Lillie. You can even walk with me over to the post office and watch me do it. But, please, just listen to me for a second. This town used to be alive. Since the gypsum plant closed and the Wal-Mart opened, the downtown barely has a pulse. Look at you, young and alive and full of dreams. We need you here. This town needs you to breathe life into it. This town needs to dream. People didn’t used to leave. They’d marry after high school and settle down and raise a family. I sit in my office every day and I see bright young people leave and never come back. Used to be you’d leave to go join the military, but you came back. You came back and got a job at a factory or at the hardware store or the grocery store. If you went to college, you came back with a degree and you put up a shingle as a lawyer or a doctor. Or whatever. No one comes back anymore. They leave and they never come back. The class sizes get smaller and smaller every year. What religion are you?

LILLIE

Catholic, maybe?

MR. BROWN

Catholic, maybe? I’m Episcopalian. Go every Sunday with my wife to St. Thomas. I help out, too, as an usher. Me and Virgil Turkington are the ushers. And every Sunday, it surprises me that he shows up because he’s just so damn old. When I was a kid, it would be packed. Last Easter, there was barely a dozen people. No one in that church was under thirty. Maybe even forty. They don’t even have a regular reverend anymore. They send in some woman from Cleveland once a week. A woman. Nothing wrong with that, just a little weird is all.

LILLIE

Some people stay. Not everyone wants to go to college, like me. Tom Heinemann, Lori Letterhos, Steve Gurtz. They’re all staying.

MR. BROWN

Not exactly the pick of the litter. In fact, any self-respecting hound would have eaten them at birth.

LILLIE

They’re not that bad.

MR. BROWN

We’ll see. But the ones who stay, don’t have a choice. They usually turn out becoming cops or criminals. Mostly the latter.

LILLIE

Mr. Brown. I’m sorry. I know this town is important to you. If I stay here, I’ll die. I’ll be like my mother. The walking dead in homemade Christmas sweaters.

MR. BROWN

How about this? This college is five states away. How about sticking closer to home? Go to State. You could commute.

LILLIE

Have you met my mother? Five states away is still too close.

MR. BROWN (standing up)

I’ll mail your application, Lillie, but will you at least think about what I said. Maybe after you graduate college, maybe even after a few years of being a doctor, you’ll come back here. Share your gifts with us. Bring us some children to play around here, again.

LILLIE

I’ll think about it. I will. But if I stay here, now, it will be like a death sentence.

MR. BROWN

Yeah. I suppose it would.

(He exits. Lights fade.)

Week 24, Day 167 - "How Bad's The Coffee?"

“How Bad’s The Coffee?”
Written by Joe Janes
7/4/09
167 of 365

CAST:
Clyde, 40s
Morgan, 40s
Jeri, 40s

(Lights up on a plain-clothes cop, Jeri, in an interrogation room with Clyde, who sits slumped in his chair wearing a bathrobe. We can see bloodstains on his t-shirt. Morgan, another plainclothes cop, enters carrying two cups of coffee in Styrofoam cups and sets them down on the table.)

JERI

Thanks, Morgan.

(Jeri takes a sip and grimaces.)

MORGAN

How bad’s the coffee, Jeri?

JERI

Bad.

CLYDE

It’s in a Styrofoam cup.

JERI

And?

CLYDE

You’ll never have a good cup of coffee in a Styrofoam cup. Simple as that. Styrofoam, even food-grade Styrofoam, isn't cured to the extent necessary to remove all out-gassing and leave only inert polymer. Hot beverages accelerate the release of free styrene monomer, among other things.

JERI

Great. So this Styrofoam cup is just one more shitty thing in this world out to kill me.

CLYDE

Not really. It just fucks up the taste. Is that one for me?

MORGAN

Yeah. Sorry, Clyde. Only got Styrofoam. Take it or leave it.

CLYDE

I’ll take it. I need it.

(He takes a sip and winces.)

CLYDE

None for you, Detective Morgan?

MORGAN

Makes me pee too much.

CLYDE

Caffeine is a diuretic. Diuretics promote the function of the kidneys, which filters urine. That makes you pee a lot.

JERI

Coffee makes me bust a move, if you know what I mean.

CLYDE

Caffeine inhibits an enzyme that is thought to regulate mucosal secretions in your small intestine. Secretions go up, so fluid in your bowel goes up, and if the amount of fluid in your colon is greater than the amount of fluid you can reabsorb, splat, you get diarrhea, or at least looser stools.

MORGAN

I think I just lost my taste for coffee altogether.

JERI

It’s never been about the taste, for me. If I don’t have my coffee, I get grumpy. You wouldn’t like me when I’m grumpy.

MORGAN

So, that’s what does it. I thought you were just born with a stick up your ass.

(They laugh.)

CLYDE

Irritability, gloom and constant fatigue along with sensations of discomfort are the primary symptoms of coffee addiction. The worst part is when you try dozing off at night, you just can't, no matter how hard you try; you just aren't able to fall asleep. That's not the end, it all goes round and round in a cycle: You wake up the next morning feeling low and stressed out, thirsty and craving for yet another steaming hot cup of coffee. Once you're tied into this chain of coffee consumption, it becomes too difficult to get yourself out of it.

(He takes another sip of his coffee, as does Jeri.)

CLYDE

Sweeten it and add cream, and you have quite the addiction cocktail. Caffeine, sugar, fat. It’s a steady daily intake of poison and quite the moneymaker for coffee “dealers.”

JERI

Clyde. Let’s get down to business here. Why’d you kill your wife?

CLYDE (sipping more coffee)

Bitch couldn’t make a decent cup of coffee.

(Blackout)

Week 24, Day 166 - "Red, White and Beer"

“Red, White and Beer”
Written by Joe Janes
7/3/09
166 of 365

CAST
Derek, 20s
D-Pack, 20s
Offstage Voice

(Lights up on Derek and D-Pack, wearing army fatigues and seemingly holding improv beers. It is night. They are looking at something up and out in the distance. We hear “booms” and light shifts.)

DEREK

I don’t get fireworks.

D-PACK

What’s there to get? Pretty colors. Loud noises. (He makes the sound of a rocket and a boom.)

DEREK

Why is it America has to commemorate things, like the Fourth of July, by getting drunk and blowing shit up?

D-PACK

And the eating. Don’t forget the eating. Lots of hot dogs and hamburgers. I’d kill for a good ol’ US Beef burger.

DEREK

You mean you’d kill for the right to have a US Beef Burger.

D-PACK

Yeah. That’s what I mean.

(We hear a whistle.)

OFFSTAGE VOICE

In-coming!!!

(We hear machine gun fire. D-Pack and Derek take what we thought were beers and unpin grenades with their teeth and throw them. They quickly hit the ground. Explosions!)

D-PACK

I wish I had a beer.

(Blackout)

Week 24, Day 166

“Red, White and Beer”
Written by Joe Janes
7/3/09
166 of 365

CAST
Derek, 20s
D-Pack, 20s
Offstage Voice

(Lights up on Derek and D-Pack, wearing army fatigues and seemingly holding improv beers. It is night. They are looking at something up and out in the distance. We hear “booms” and light shifts.)

DEREK
I don’t get fireworks.

D-PACK
What’s there to get? Pretty colors. Loud noises. (He makes the sound of a rocket and a boom.)

DEREK
Why is it America has to commemorate things, like the Fourth of July, by getting drunk and blowing shit up?

D-PACK
And the eating. Don’t forget the eating. Lots of hot dogs and hamburgers. I’d kill for a good ol’ US Beef burger.

DEREK
You mean you’d kill for the right to have a US Beef Burger.

D-PACK
Yeah. That’s what I mean.

(We hear a whistle.)

OFFSTAGE VOICE
In-coming!!!

(We hear machine gun fire. D-Pack and Derek take what we thought were beers and unpin grenades with their teeth and throw them. They quickly hit the ground. Explosions!)

D-PACK
I wish I had a beer.

(Blackout)

Week 24, Day 165 - "The Death of Me"

“The Death of Me”
Written by Joe Janes
7/2/09
165 of 365

CAST
Larry Worthington, late 70s
Vanessa Bomblatt, 30s
Security Guard, 30s

(Lights up on Larry sitting in a chair. He is an older man. He is dressed in a loose fitting suit. He holds a beat up brief case on his lap. Vanessa sits at a nearby desk looking over papers. Off to the side near a door is a bank security guard. She occasionally glances at him, he notices and raises his eyebrows. She goes back to looking at the papers.)

VANESSA

Mr. Worthington?

LARRY

Yes?

VANESSA

How can I say this?

LARRY

I can help you there, Miss Bomblatt. You can just say “yes.” Hand me a check and I’ll be on my way.

VANESSA

I wish it were that simple.

LARRY

I have never asked for a loan my entire life.

VANESSA

Actually, you have, you just have never been granted one.

LARRY

That’s what I meant. You could be my first.

VANESSA

Mr. Worthington-

LARRY

Call me, Larry. Everybody calls me Larry. You say Mr. Worthington and I think you’re talking to my dad. And he’s dead.

VANESSA

Larry, banks tend to give people loans when they’re reasonably certain the person will be able to pay them back. You have nothing to secure the loan.

LARRY

I have my word. And we could shake on it.

VANESSA

Fine with me, but I’m afraid the bank would want something more. Don’t you have any collateral you could put against ten thousand dollars?

LARRY

I have the money in my checking account.

VANESSA (reading another paper)

Which is currently negative three dollars and forty-eight cents.

LARRY

Oh. The government must have deposited my monthly check.

VANESSA

You rent your room. You have no furniture or automobile. Don’t you own anything of value?

LARRY

I have books. Hardcover books. Real nice. Quite a collection. (He opens his briefcase and takes out a book.) Like this one.

VANESSA

I see. (Looks it over). This is a library book.

LARRY

Told you they were nice.

VANESSA

And they belong to the library.

LARRY

Technically, maybe. But I’ve had them a long time. There’s got to be a point where I’ve had them so long they’re mine. Some statue of limitations.

VANESSA

I wouldn’t know. Isn’t there some friend or relative-?

LARRY

Please, Miss Bomblatt. Vanessa. May I call you Vanessa?

VANESSA

Sure.

LARRY

I really need this money, Vanessa. As you can see, I’ve been around quite awhile. Longer than most of my friends and family. There’s no one for me to turn to.

VANESSA

Run it by me in more detail. You need the money to build a marker.

LARRY

To build a monument.

VANESSA

A monument. Commemorating what?

LARRY

Lawrence Worthington.

VANESSA

You.

LARRY

That is correct.

VANESSA

Most people who have had monuments built honoring themselves, Larry, didn’t build it themselves. Other people did. To honor them for their contributions to society.

LARRY

There must be some people who did.

VANESSA

Perhaps, but I’ll wager they were stinking rich enough to pay for it out of their own pocket.

LARRY

Well, like you said, I don’t own anything of value. I couldn’t afford a monument made out of Cheetohs.

VANESSA

You don’t have anything of material value. You seem like a decent man. You have a nice smile.

LARRY

And that will be gone when I die. (She looks at him concerned.) Whenever that is.

VANESSA

I’m sorry, Larry. I just can’t help you. Hey, what about a gravestone? When you pass on, let your gravestone be your monument.

LARRY (Standing)

Who the hell visits graveyards? I sure don’t. And I don’t know anyone who’d be swinging by my pile of dirt. I never married. I don’t have any kids. I just wanted a little monument. A simple statue of me to put in a park somewhere. Something to tell people I was here. That in all the history of time, I was here, on this spot, for a little while. And you know what I’d have written on the base of that statue?

VANESSA

What?

LARRY (waving)

Hi. Just something to say, “Hi, I was here.” And “hey, you’re here now. And you’re taking a moment to read this and know that I was once alive. Like you. Aren’t we something?” (Waves) Hi.

VANESSA (touched, but…)

I’m sorry, Larry.

LARRY

I tried.

(He gathers his things and heads towards the door. The security guard opens it for him. He exits. Lights shift and we hear the screeching of tires. Larry drops his briefcase and holds up one hand. The security guard steps forward and addresses the audience.)

SECURITY GUARD

Larry stepped out into the street not noticing the quickly setting asphalt he stepped in or the cement truck heading his way careening out of control. He got the monument he wanted. And every morning as Vanessa Bomblatt comes in to work, she stops by and she says, “Hi.” (He starts to walk away and then comes back) Five years from now, this bank branch will close due to financial turmoil caused by Vanessa’s excessive embezzling siphoning off retirement funds. She’s sent to prison where she is shived while working in the prison library. This building is bought by a real estate developer who bulldozes the whole block and flattens everything, even Larry. Larry’s still waving, up through a sewage grate into an abandoned half-finished hip-eco-overpriced-condo project. (He walks away and comes back). Oh, I quit my job as a security guard to devote my life to my passion, playing the jazz lute. I tour the world and am the highest paid jazz lute player ever. I make as much as I made working here. See? Happy ending. Until I died in a plane crash over a swamp. (He shrugs. Blackout.)