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.)

Week 42, Day 291 - "Excursion Into Philosophy"

“Excursion Into Philosophy”

Written by Joe Janes

11/05/09

291 of 365

CAST:

Ernst, 40s

Marla, 20s

(Lights up on Ernst sitting on the edge of a twin bed. He is fully dressed and an open book sits next to him. Behind him, with her back turned, lies Marla asleep in a slip. Ernst looks deep in thought, but hard to read emotionally. He gets up and looks in a downstage mirror, unseen by the audience. He regards his face with concern. He sits back down and picks up the book. He struggles to read it without glasses.)

ERNST

The first and greatest victory is to conquer yourself; to be conquered by yourself is of all things most shameful and vile.

(Marla stretches and her hand falls on Ernst’s arm. Puzzled, she looks around the room. She takes her hand off his arm and scoots down to the end of the bed and gets up. She finds her blue uniform slacks and slips them on.)

MARLA

I don’t do this.

ERNST

Really? You’re very good at it.

MARLA

That’s not funny.

(She slips on her matching blue uniform jacket, but does not button it up. She sits on the bed.)

MARLA

What time is it?

ERNST (looking at his watch)

Six am.

MARLA

It’s so bright out.

ERNST

Yes.

MARLA

I can’t go out like this. I look ridiculous.

ERNST

It’s New York. You could walk down Broadway naked with a feather sticking out of your rump and no one would notice.

MARLA

Really.

ERNST

Well, I’d notice.

MARLA

You look cleaned up.

ERNST

I didn’t sleep.

MARLA

It’s not fair.

ERNST

Don’t leave. Go back to bed. We have the room till noon.

(She finds her shoes and puts them on.)

MARLA

I can’t do that. You’re a stranger.

ERNST

We’re still strangers?

MARLA

You know what I mean.

(She looks in the mirror and pulls her hair back. He stands behind her.)

ERNST

Do you see what you want to see when you look in the mirror?

MARLA

I don’t know. It’s just me. I don’t like my nose. (She looks at him and touches his cheek.) What about you?

ERNST

I don’t like what I see at all. I always expect to see a younger man looking back at me. And every time, it’s this man who keeps looking older and older. More gray. Baggier eyes. (He looks in the mirror.) I don’t know that guy.

MARLA

You look good for your age.

ERNST

Thanks and ouch.

(He sits back down and she moves to the door to leave.)

MARLA

I’m sorry about your wife.

(He looks at her blankly, at first, and then we see a sadness emerge. He looks away. She sits back down on the bed. She takes his hand and they sit in silence for a moment.)

ERNST

You know, you’re not so much a stranger to me. (She looks at him.) I saw you eating lunch yesterday. I was sitting on the other side of the café. I watch people and I saw you nibbling at your tuna salad sandwich like a bunny.

MARLA

I do not.

ERNST

Yes. You do. (He imitates her eating.) It was adorable. The café was crowded. You were alone.

MARLA

So many people in this city and I don’t know anyone.

ERNST

Then I saw you again in the afternoon at the drug store buying toothpaste and “Movie Mirror” magazine. Reading that magazine later in the park. And then I saw you on your way to work. Struck up a conversation about Jimmy Stewart on your way home.

(She gets up and moves towards the door.)

MARLA

I need to go.

ERNST

It’s not as bad as it sounds. You just fell victim to a lonely actor with a day off.

MARLA

That’s how you spend your free time? Hunting conquests?

(Ernst is silent. Marla opens the door.)

ERNST

Don’t forget your book.

MARLA

It’s not my book.

ERNST

It’s not mine.

(She closes the door, returns to the bed and picks up the book.)

MARLA

The Gideons must be expanding their library. (She reads from it.) How can you prove whether at this moment we are sleeping, and all our thoughts are a dream; or whether we are awake, and talking to one another in the waking state? (She puts the book down.) I can’t go out like this.

ERNST

Don’t.

(They stare at one another as lights fade.)