Week 14, Day 93 - "Off The Grid"

“Off The Grid”
Written by Joe Janes
4/21/09
93 of 365

CAST:
Donny, 50s
Joey, 40s

(Lights up on Donny pacing around a small motel room. He wears his coat. The only semblance of luggage is an overstuffed garbage bag. He has a gun in his hand. There’s a knock at the door. Donny walks over to it and listens. There’s another knock.)

DONNY (whispering)

Joey?

JOEY (off and also whispering)

Yeah?

(Donny quickly open unlatches the door and pulls Joey in. He checks the hall to make sure no one else is out there. Satisfied, he shuts and locks the door.)

JOEY

Nice motel. Do the cockroaches turn down the bed at night?

DONNY

No. But the rats leave a dropping on the pillow every morning.

JOEY

So, what was so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone?

DONNY

You can’t tell anyone. You hear me?

JOEY

Jesus, did you rob a bank? Who’d you kill?

DONNY

Me.

JOEY

You didn’t do a very good job. Want me to take a whack at it?

DONNY

Look. I need you. I want you to join me.

JOEY

Sit down. Your pacing is making me all nervous.

DONNY

I’m too worked up.

JOEY

Sit down and tell me what the heck is going on.

DONNY

I’m going off the grid.

JOEY

Oh. OH. I’m sorry. I see. How long have you been on “the grid”?

DONNY

I don’t know. Birth, maybe. When I was twelve and I got my social security number. I don’t know when it started.

JOEY

Well, don’t you worry. Big brother will take care of you.

DONNY

That’s exactly what I don’t want. That’s why I’m going off the grid. I don’t want to have anything to do with Big Brother.

JOEY

But…I’m your big brother. And I know a thing or two about this. I used to have a problem with nasal decongestants.

DONNY

I’m talking about the puppet masters. The people who put me on the grid and want to keep me there.

JOEY

This grid… do you snort it?

DONNY

You’re so wrapped up in it, you don’t even see it. The grid is the, uh, I don’t know what the grid is. I’m going off the radar.

JOEY

How many different drugs you taking?

DONNY

No, man. I’m going underground. I’m unplugging from the “world” as we know it. I tore up my social security card. I cashed out all my bank accounts. I cancelled all my utilities. I walked away from the house. I threw away most everything I own. All I have left is what’s in that garbage bag. As of this point, Donny Loomis, patsy of the government, no longer exists.

JOEY

You’re going to be homeless?

DONNY

Just the opposite. The world will be my home. Wherever I am, is my home. Home is no longer the address on my shredded driver’s license.

JOEY

How will you eat?

DONNY

You kidding me? This country throws away more food than all the third world countries in the world combined consume. You want dinner? I got dinner. There’s a garbage bin in the alley between the motel and Fried Foods and Sundries. (He opens his garbage bag and pulls out a smaller paper bag.) I got pizza crusts, half a can of RC, a bag of perfectly good, albeit cracked, taco shells, some hot sauce packets, some deodorant samples.

JOEY

Jesus, Donny. I don’t know what to make of this. What the hell happened? You lose your job or something? Give me a deodorant sample.

(He does. Joey uses it.)

DONNY

I woke up. And I suggest you do the same. They’ve got your hooks in you and you don’t even realize it. It’s dragging you down and you don’t even realize it. You’re a frog and you’re boiling.

JOEY

Hey!

DONNY

What?

JOEY

Don’t call me a boiling frog. I don’t think that’s very nice.

DONNY

I’m just saying, one day I’m sitting at my desk, paying bill after bill after bill and for what? Is that what the rest of my life is going to be about. Rolling a boulder up a god dam hill until I croak and it rolls over me on its way back down? No way. No more. I’m tired of being just a tiny ass cog in the machine. A machine that doesn’t care if I’m happy. It just wants me to be docile. It wants me to drink and watch TV and barely make ends meet. Keeping me miserable keeps the fat cats fat. No more. I quit everything. Fuck you government. Fuck you world. (He opens the door) You hear me? I said fuck you, world!

(Far offstage we hear “Fuck you, too, asshole!” Donny closes the door.)

DONNY (continuing)

You’ve got to join me, Joey. They’re out to get you, man. This is a revolt. This is what they don’t want any of us to do. Get rid of everything.

JOEY

Wow. I don’t think I can get rid of my stuff. I just bought a new couch. I love that couch.

DONNY

They want you to love that couch. They want you to sit on your ass all day at work and all night at home. That way you don’t make any trouble.

JOEY

Who’s this “they” you keep talking about?

DONNY

You know, they. Undisclosed location "they." Wire-tapping they. Bailouts and bonuses "they." They’re everywhere. But strip yourself of all the things they use to ID you, they can’t find you. You become invisible to them. I may no longer be Donny Loomis, but I’ll tell you what I am. A man.

(Joey stands up and hugs Donny)

JOEY

I’ll do it! I’m jumping off the grid!

DONNY

I’m proud of you.

(“Dancing Queen” by ABBA is heard. Joey takes his cell phone out of his pocket.)

JOEY

Oh, that’s me. I don’t recognize that number? Hello?

(Donny grabs the phone and begins to smash it on the floor with the butt of his handgun.)

DONNY

I told you not to bring your phone! These things have GPS trackers in them. You idiot!

JOEY

Hey! I still have free minutes left!

(Outside, loud fire truck sirens are heard coming toward the motel. The two stop to listen. A helicopter is heard.)

JOEY

What do we do now, Donny? What do we do?

DONNY

I guess we see what’s on TV.

(They sit on the floor. Donny grabs a nearby remote and turns on the motel room TV. We hear the theme song to “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.” Donny extends his arm and keeps the gun pointed at the door as they enjoy the wacky comedy antics of a young Will Smith. Sirens and helicopters get louder. Lights fade.)