Wednesday, January 21, 2015


Winters End (one act play)

On a late winter night in Nebraska on a snowy sidewalk in a small town there stands a man bundled up  enough to keep an ice cube hot. he looks around the streets watching the one street light in town slowly fade from yellow to darkness. not a sound in the air or a disturbance in the cosmos of this quiet Nebraskan town. everything was peaceful and majestic and the wind chill was freezing snow to windows on contact.

Man: (looking at his reflection in the window of an abandoned store with bare mannequins and broken glass faded behind his own figure) hey, you’re gunna be just fine. everything is okay. (he looks himself in the eye, he sees what he hates, he sees what he was, he sees what he can never be. moments pass and the stare down proceeds in a obsessive fashion, he wont give up, as if to say he was hosting a staring contest with himself.)

Man: (whispering then gradually increasing the volume and meaning of each word) stop it, stop it, stop it.. YOU ARE NOTHING, YOU NEVER WERE AND YOU NEVER F-CKING WILL BE. YOU ARE A COWARD. YOU ARE NOT FEARLESS. YOU ARE NOTHING. YOU ARE F-CKING NOTHING. (as tears stream down his unsure face, he puts his hands on the window and begins smashing it with his forehead)

Man: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (slamming his face into window)  YOU (slams face into window again and he sees a crack forming) DESERVE (smashes his head in the same spot because there was something fascinating about watching the glass spider before his eyes) THIS (as he slams against the window once more then the man proceeds to wipe his face and looks at his palm seeing his own blood on his hand)

Man: (vigorously pacing the sidewalk along the now spidered store window) All theses years. ALL OF THESE F-CKING YEARS, FOR NOTHING. (he unzips his coat and throws it into the road, followed by his sweater and then his t-shirt) ITS NOT COLD. ITS NOT COLD OUT HERE. F-CK THE SUN. F-CK THE MOON. F-CK EVERYTHING MAN. (taking off his shoes he chuckles to himself) ahahah I worked for these shoes.. I wasted my life for these shoes, and these pants, and these socks. HAHAHAHAHAAHAH (staring at every article of clothing he had on earlier in the evening dispersed across the snowy street and sidewalk)

Man: (reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a cigar and lights and sparks it he tossed the lighter and puffed the cigar a few times) I'm gunna miss these things.. (he steps away from the window to get a running start it) I'm gunna miss these for sure. (he runs and jumps into the window and crashes through it and lands on broken glass, not only the glass he had just broken, but glass that was previously broken, the momentum of his head into the window caused him to lose consciousness naked and cuddling with shards of glass and a burning cigar just inches from of his hand.)

hours go by, and he remains in the unconscious state of mind he brought himself to.

Man: (waking up on the ground cold and in pain he looks around and sees what he did) F-CK, F-CK, F-CK, F-CK. WHY AM I HERE, THIS SHOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED.. (he grabs a shard of glass and puts it to his wrist and presses down on his vein and began lacerating the skin. he begins screaming) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH


Female Voice: Steven? are you okay in there?

Man: (looks up to see a broken mirror in a small bathroom with a shower that had no curtain. he looks down into the sink and sees his blood dripping into the sink from his hand he drops the broken mirror shard and stares at the broken reflection of himself) (confused) yeah I'm fine

Female Voice: I’m coming in (the door knob turns slightly) (”Steve” grabs the knob preventing the woman to fully turn the knob) STEVEN! OPEN THIS DOOR!

Man: (leaning against the door) f-ck off Janice. I'm taking a sh-t.

Janice: if you’re on the toilet, how are you holding the door shut?

Steve: I'M STRETCHING (he starts grunting and acting as if he were really stretching)
(in the distance behind the door you hear Janices' voice shouting) HELP! STEVEN IS HAVING ANOTHER EPISODE

Janice: right this way, hes in the bathroom

Mans Voice: (a very deep intimidating voice) I’m going to give you one chance to open this damn door Steven.

(Steven began wrapping his gash in his hospital issued white tee)

Mans Voice: I’m giving you to the count of three..

Mans Voice: One…… Two……..

Steve: (takes a step back and waits for the door to open on three)

Mans Voice: THREE!

as a large black nurse man comes in with Janice behind him, Steve bolts toward the door. he slips just out of the reach of the large nurse, and was about to pass Janice but she was ready with a needle, she stuck him in the arm as he ran through her on his way out of the room which connected to the bathroom he had harmed himself in.

Mans Voice:SH-T. GET HIM

Janice:Chill out, I stuck him with the tranquilizer.

Mans Voice: CHILL OUT? do you remember the last time he got “tranquilized?” I certainly know I don't forget seeing him stab Mikey at the main desk to make his way out of this wing of the ward. I also don't forget watching him climb the wall up to the roof then jumping off making a nice distance between him and his room.
Janice: But that was last year, i used a stronger dosage for him, he’ll be out in a minute

by this time Steve had made his way more than halfway down the hall to the entrance of the wing he currently resides in. a swarm of nurses and staff members behind him in terror because they knew what he was capable of. Steve made his way to the desk where he had once stabbed a staff member for his scan card to get out, but this time there was no staff member, just a desk. Steve hopped behind the desk and searched it for something.. anything.

Steve: Now all of you back the f-ck up.

the crowd got closer


Janice: Just wait, he's going to be out any minute now.

the staff reluctantly followed her order, and they just watched him watch them.

hours pass and Steve stays standing behind this desk having a stare-down with a staff of angry nurses and occasionally glancing down at the now red shirt on his wrist. Steve then fell against the wall with his fists raised, then losing conciousness

He wakes up to find himself strapped to a bed looking at a bright light

Steve:(screaming) WHERE THE F-CK AM I??

you can hear the door to the small room unlock, then the light goes out and you see the silhouette of a rather small man.

Steve: Doctor, whats going on? Where am i? Back away from me. I'LL KILL YOU

Doctor: Shhhhhhhh (he says as he places a damp rag over Steve's mouth causing him to slowly lose consciousness)

End Act I

Carl Cardigan (slam poetry)
No no, I don't have time for this.
I could be asleep.
Not here, not now, not ever
time for bed, not even clever
tho it is 8 am, i can sleep
I could, not can, I will because I am
Sleep is a necessity
Sleep is the best for me
But school is real, it awakens me endlessly
Consciousness is no friend to me
Rather, he is the enemy
Approaching faster than a seven foot centipede 
Lemon-aid with the lemon breeze
Drinking under cherry trees
Smelly knees, stinging bees
I janitor who holds the keys
not many only four
maybe five
only using one at a time
So why is there no seconds for me
When I have minutes to turn the keys
In stead of in my bed, catching z's
I lack one of the human needs
not one but many, nights and mornings I wake up empty. 
Just wishing there was something that kept me
In a slumber
But no, I'm here awake, and it is a bummer
only got 6 months left for an endless summer.
Endless? no maybe not
Except on the nights you were smoking pot
Saturating in perfume in hopes you don't get caught
But that's a lot of hope
Too much hope that it'd be inconceivable to cope
With the fact your ma's against the dope
But that's alright
You pass the night with a doob to light
Stay high to ignore the fight
Stay out of sight.
You can't be seen
Constantly running, you're hidden machine 
So wait for your sleep
And run from life
Losing z's is a sacrifice
One i think of when I'm in the casino shooting dice
Not once, I shoot it twice 
Devouring your genes, the ones i splice. 
Split up like a nuclear reaction 
As if to say it was an excessive action 
From the leader of my faction
No time for your numbers like subtraction
The math is complete
As is the game
I don't have anything
Not even a name
just a skull with an unstable brain
one stricken with pain
and driven insane
like al-qhada flying a plane
into the twin towers membrane

Angrrrrrrrrry Letter (angry letter)
Inmate #18765,
        I applaud you from a distance. I formally congratulate you on your remarkable ability to destroy more lives than you're capable of creating. I once looked up to you, both figuratively and physically, but not anymore. It's been made abundantly clear that you've withered in size from the amount of hatred you've had thrown out of your system to spew down your roots and into the foundation you've constructed. and figuratively speaking, to look up to you would idiotic to say politely, for the only thing even remotely admirable you've ever accomplished in your life was living as long as you have. It's truly amazing no one has beaten you until your heart stopped pumping your worthless blood through your methamphetamine fiending body, strewn with supposedly meaningful tattoos with dates of which you cannot fathom a meaning. Those dates mean nothing to you. You've taken away the meaning of those dates to me as well, you've taken more from me than you've given me, and that fact is repulsive. I never learned anything from you, I've just seen mistakes you've made and I was able to determine that no matter what happens in life, I can never be anything close to whatever you may consider yourself to be. I will never follow in your aimless footsteps that wander purposelessly away from anything that supposedly meant something to you. I walk my own path, and wear my own shoes, these shoes are mine and you had nothing to do with it, besides the fact that I needed my own because you can only wear state issued ones, that even if i wanted you'd still deny me. You wear your shoes in a cell that I hope consumes your soul, I hope it devours you from the feet up, alive you sit there feeling it eat you bite by bite, limiting you worthless body mass to just about nothing but bloody scraps of a once desired father figure. Those scraps should then be placed in a fire, a fire that I will urinate on in order to ensure that it is extinguished. then I will stomp out your chard cremains on the floor. Then on my walk back I'd look at the black foot prints left behind from my size 14 vans and smile with honor like a savage Ronin. 
                         -the offspring 

No comments:

Post a Comment