Putting the Pieces Together
A collection of works by Duncan Richer
Table of Contents ARTIST’S STATEMENT POETRY Lovesick Blues Wednesday Heartburn Autobiographia Literaria After FICTION Soil Real World Milo’s Kite NON- FICTION Sleep deprivation article Cloud Cult article My Father Food PLAYWRITING The thief Simon Hailing from Bargle Dentist’s Office
Artist’s statement This collection of work is representative of the different types of writing that I have learned over my four years at CAPA. When I first heard about the writing department at the school, I was tentative to write to an assignment rather than have the freedom to write whatever I wanted. However, the schooling I received has been so comprehensive that it has given me so many more opportunities to explore in my own writing. This holds true not only for learning about different genres but also for different styles and techniques. I almost didn’t want to include works from my Freshman and Sophomore years because the characters seem so much more static than in my more recent works. However, I realized it’s necessary to include those
works as well, if only to show my growth as a writer. This evolution can be attributed to my schooling but also to my growth as a person. I have become more observant of details and care more about those details. In addition to the writing skills that I’ve acquired through the work I’ve completed in this department, I have also become a more articulate speaker and a more comprehensive reader. I can’t say with 100% confidence that I’m proud of all the work I’ve done, but I can say that I’m proud of how far I’ve come.
POETRY
Lovesick Blues I got da blues, I got da blues baby Sick wit da blues, sick wit da blues baby Say I’m contagious, best stay away from me I’m getting sicker, sicker every day Just dying quicker, quicker every day I don’t understand it baby, why’d you do me this way? All through the night, been smoking too many cigarettes Yeah I stayed up all night, smoking too many cigarettes 2 packs a day ever since you left I know I’m sending mixed messages Yeah I know I’m sending mixed messages Stay with me ‘til I figure it out, tired a holdin’ to your vestiges Give me one last chance, one last chance to please you Just need one more chance, one more chance to please you Left me sittin’ in a pot of tears, pot of tears to stew
Wednesday After Allen Ginsberg Wednesday, what are you good for? You are the in between, the middle, the filler. Wednesday, I look at the glass half empty. You are nothing but an opener for Thursday, and Thursday is nothing but an opener for Friday! How do you feel Wednesday? The bastard child of the week. Tuesday doesn’t offer you a shoulder to cry on. Neither does Thursday. Give it up Wednesday, retire. Suicide if you must. Wednesday is a fine day for suicide. Wednesday, my parakeet escaped from it’s cage on a Wednesday. Wednesday, I broke my arm on a Wednesday. My grandfather died on a Monday, but it did not hit me until Wednesday. Wednesday, there is nothing to eat but leftovers. Wednesday, I’m tired of clicking through infomercials. Wednesday, I can’t remember the weekend anymore. Wednesday, classes are twice as long. Wednesday, I’m yawning. Wednesday I had speech lessons on Wednesdays. I still can’t say my S’s. Shelby sells sea shells by the sea shore. Shelby sells sea shells by the sea shore. Shelby sells sea shells by the sea shore. Are you laughing at me Wednesday? I am laughing at you.
Wednesday, thank God I was born on a Sunday. And as for you, Ash Wednesday I have sensitive skin. My forehead had a rash for 2 Wednesdays to come. Wensday you are hard to spell. Wensday I got a 6 out of 7 on my spelling test. It seems we are in it for the long haul, Wednesday. Can you believe it? I have to put up with you once a week.
Heartburn I place my wallet in my back right pocket
with my right arm because my left is busying itself with a plastic fork and Moo Shu pork. It is 2, and you are talking about the stock market as if you built it from popsicle sticks and Elmer’s glue. And the ceiling of this shady Asian joint is stale yellowing cracked at the corners. The Tim Allen in you is irking for some plaster and a trowel. Your face is pale. Mine is red. Number 9 spicy. And because peeing at the urinal is more difficult when 4 and a half pieces of chewing gum are stuck on the wall watching you I decide to hold it for the bus home. with a mouth full of juju fruit and a broken smile you call me childish and poetic. Back to work. and on my way neon lights smile at me. The flickering second “L” in Wallmart and the dead and rejected “A” in Taco Bell are the only things short of perfection on that day in Pittsburgh. Autobiographia Literatia It started when my home became a house. As a mother of four might argue that family dinner is important, I feel equally partial to the lone soggy cornflake cast away in a sea of two percent. How could one not find the metaphor in the bus that hops because one wheel does not match the others? The pulsing vein in my fathers forehead becomes the 14th line in my pontoon I find the magnificence in worn out markers and linoleum floors
and over-tweezed-eyebrows and the beep of a pacemaker and best of all, I am not alone in these observations! Lurking in the corners of coffee shops and dimly lit apartments this starved population of poets never struggled to find the beauty in a browning apple left on the kitchen table. I am home.
After After you stacked up a tower of lawn chairs, you sat there all day in the sun, getting progressively happier like some kind of solar powered mood swing. After you wore that white dress starched so it was stiff like a Sunday paper, I wanted to read you all my life. After we slow danced in your Aunt’s living room, a desert of cigarette butts and half filled cups begging at our feet. After you grabbed my hand and put it on your side, fingers fitting between your ribs like mechanical wheels spinning. After all of that, I felt and counted each heavy breath in and out like the tides of my youth.
Fiction
Soil I. The only noise in the whole procession was the hum of my grandmother’s hearing aid, buzzing annoyingly between pauses of the pastor’s eulogy. My mother lay tucked into the fake mahogany box like a shipment of coffee beans or ball point pens en route to somewhere on the other side of the Earth. Her expression was painted. Her lipstick was applied better than I’d ever seen her wear it in the flesh. In life, she was always in a rush. “Connie was a woman of character,” the pastor made expressive hand movements to emphasize his sympathy. The microphone squealed with feedback, and my uncle on my father’s side opened his eyes. He made a strange guttural noise and checked to see if anyone had seen him sleeping. I wish I could tell you that it was raining or at least partly cloudy for dramatic effect, but it was actually quite sunny. She did not die in a car crash or a bank heist but rather in her sleep after a short battle with an advanced stage of cancer. She had not undergone chemotherapy and so her hair was still intact. It was the first time in years I had seen her hair freed of its usual bun. As the services drew to an end, my father placed a handwritten note into the coffin, kissed his hand, and placed it to my mother’s lips, and walked away. The pastor said a final prayer and closed the casket. Before I had a chance to join my father outside for a cigarette, a greasy man with mild acne approached
me and gave me a small box containing my mother’s worldly possessions. This included her wedding ring and a pair of jade earrings she had received for her 20th anniversary just two years prior. I walked outside as my cousin promptly pulled out a Game Boy and mashed on its buttons. He looked like an addict in the anticipation of a long awaited fix.
Real World Sometimes in school, I can lull myself into a trance that makes my six hour day seem to pass in 5 minutes. One long coma of boredom. Filling in the bubbles of standardized tests Henry Richter over and over again trying to figure
out what I want to do with my life. Count your 1s. If you have more 1s than 2s you should move into business management rather than service industry. I have twenty two 4s. A woman with thin pebble-green glasses pinches the bridge of her nose looking over my results. Her hair is thick and I swear I see the corner of a wrapper somewhere tucked away in the mess behind her ear. She sucks on a piece of chewing gum. “So, uh,” she looks up from her paper to see what I’m wearing “do you know what you want to do?” “No.” My mom told me people don’t like one word answers. After a few seconds of listening to the woman chew her gum, I give in to her annoyance. “I like nature.” She looks up at me again, this time even more skeptical. I bet you do, you lazy pothead teenager. “Well you’ve got the most 4s and a few 7s. That means firefighter or pharmaceutical chemistry.” “One or the other?” “One or the other,” she answers. I walk out of the office. I’m ticking down to a tree. Once I get out of school, I go down to the river a block down. There is a bench I sit on every day. Sometimes just for 5 minutes before I catch a bus home, but sometimes I sit there until past dinner, past my little sister’s bedtime. The water is completely flat, but it’s moving quickly. If you stare at it long enough it looks like both sides of the river are moving, and it’s actually completely still. Bridges loom over the water as a mother hovers above her child’s crib, protective, adoring. Although the river is nice, it’s the tree I really come for. I can’t explain why the tree draws me the way it does. Everyday I go I get a new clue as to why I’ll be there the next day. In autumn, around this time of year, the few sparse leaves that fall sound like the whispers of a secret being told for the first time. And that, I think, is worth coming back to hear again.
Milo’s Kite The following day, Booba announced that she had to go to town to buy groceries and to mail Milo’s test to the state. She had arranged for Jack West to baby-sit Milo for the two hours she’d be gone. “Mom, I’m fourteen years old in a house full of loud animals. I can stay at home without supervision,” Milo protested to no avail. Booba dismissed him with a kiss on the lips, whisking herself out the door, her scarf trailing behind her dramatically in the air. The puttering of Jack’s broken-muzzled Chevrolet announced his arrival about ten minutes later. Milo was fighting his way through a wool sweater with a moose on the front his mother had sewn him two years past. He looked out the window, and something caught his eye. In the passenger seat of the Chevrolet sat a girl about Milo’s age. “That’s strange,” Milo said aloud. Metallic blonde hair shielded her face on both sides. Still, Milo oggled her legs propped on the dashboard, fingers tapping away at a gameboy in her lap. As Jack made his way
towards the entrance of the house, the girl looked up at Milo through the window, scaring him so badly he toppled backwards, crushing a clay pot. Milo brushed himself off, pushed his hair out of his face and raced downstairs to open the door. Jack West stood propped in the doorway, his fat lips wrapped around a hickory tobacco pipe. He held the bottom of his bulging stomach with both hands, which made him look both jolly and heavily burdened at all times. His weight was distributed unevenly because of his injury. His gait was equally uneven; with each step, he teetered on the brink of falling. Milo could barely make out anything behind the man’s wide frame, but he heard the truck door open and close, immediately followed by an annoyed moan. “Dad, how fucking long do we have to stay in this shit shack?” Jack’s turned outwards to face his daughter, pivoting on his implant. “Watch your language,” he hissed at her. Jack ruffled Milo’s hair, knocking his glasses so they sat unevenly on his face. “Hey Milo the silo, where are the missiles aimed today?” Milo stared blankly at this blatant stab at his mother’s paranoia. Jack began laughing at his own joke in a huffing sort of way, exhaling out of his nose until he could no longer control the bellowing amusement brewing in his organ of a chest. When he realized both Milo and his daughter weren’t joining in on his glee, he introduced them. “Right well little buddy, um, this is my daughter, Alexis.” Milo adjusted his glasses, taking as good a look at Alexis as his quivering body would allow him. She was beautiful. Her features were all small and simple, but she had a well rounded homeliness to her that Milo identified with. Alexis stood, one foot on the ground, one on the first step of Milo’s front porch. He had never seen nor heard of anyone who chewed gum so violently. She did not look up from her Gameboy, not even attempting interest at anything around her. Somehow, as if pushed from behind, Milo managed a meek “Hi.” Alexis
looked up from her screen for exactly three seconds. “Nice sweater,” she said. Milo exploded a red hue like the deepest leaves of autumn. Suddenly, his favorite sweater became a straight jacket or a boa constrictor. He could feel every hair of the wool scrape at his pores. This girl was a witchdoctor, Milo concluded. “You know you two used to play together as kids,” Jack ushered Milo and Alexis into the house, “I might even have a picture of you two hugging under that tree there, I think.” Jack laughed again. “How fetching,” Alexis said without looking up. Somehow she had managed to navigate Milo’s living room without disturbing a single stack of magazines, vigorously jamming buttons all the while. She crashed onto the back seat of a Honda Odyssey that served as a couch. Milo sat across from her in an oriental chair he long suspected had been stolen from a museum exhibit. He remembered Alexis from his childhood but only in a patchwork of vague images. “Your mother tells me the two of you don’t eat red meat, Milo,” Jack yelled from the kitchen. “That’s not good for a growing boy. Today I’m cooking steaks. From a cow.” Milo groaned but decided against making a fuss. After a minute of silence, Jack yelled again. “Hey what’s the big idea with this stove?” “It’s a wood stove. It probably needs some more logs. They’re in the back yard, but I don’t know if there’s any split ones left. Booba usually does that…” Milo saw that Alexis had begun looking at him skeptically, “She doesn’t like me using the ax…” The screen door slammed as Jack stepped outside. The sound was immediately followed by the rhythmic whack of splintering wood. Milo felt beads of sweat collect on his scalp as the reality of being alone in his house with a girl set in. “Fucking batteries.” Alexis shook her Gameboy and flicked the switch off and on to no avail. “Do you have any batteries in this place?” Milo looked around
dumbly. “Yeah, you. I’m talking to you.” She pointed at him. “I’ll give you a second to get over the shock.” “Oh um, batteries, yeah.” Milo was caught completely off guard; his mind had been drifting into the crevice of Alexis’ breasts. She noticed. “I take that as a no, then?” “I mean, they’re probably somewhere in the house but…I don’t know exactly where.” Alexis took this as her cue to observe her surroundings for the first time. As her eyes passed over the chaos of the house, her eyebrows raised proportionately. Then, her face returned to its completely unimpressed glare which Milo came to recognize as her normal expression. She put her gum into her hand and stuffed it under the car seat and popped a fresh piece into her mouth. There was an awkward silence. For Milo, each second was an unbearable eternity. “Eight minutes, twenty seconds. I’ve timed it,” Alexis said. When she realized Milo was not going to ask her what she had timed, she continued anyway. “That’s how long it takes a piece of gum to lose its flavor. 1,440 minutes in every day, that’s like,” she thought for a second, squinting her eyes and pursing her lips like she was sucking on something sour, “170 pieces of gum every day. I mean shit, I sleep like six hours, who doesn’t, but that’s still like six bucks a day if you’re buying them in twelve packs. Cost more than a nicotine addiction and just as bad for your teeth.” Alexis leaned forward in her seat, peaking out the window to check that her father was still outside. Upon hearing his ax fall again, she produced a pack of Marlborough Lights from her bag, taking one out and lighting it. “That’s why it’s really bad I’m hooked on both. Do you smoke?” Alexis extended an unlit cigarette towards Milo. He continued to stare at her, too shocked to speak. She retreated her offer, carefully putting the cigarette back in the pack. “You’re an odd one, you know that?”
Milo responded in the only way he knew how, “I’m going to go look for some batteries.” Soon, he was running through his back yard, Jack yelling after him something about smoked deer jerky.
NON-FICTION
Sleep Deprivation, Devastating Effects on Student Body Shuffling up and down the halls of CAPA, it is not difficult to see from the zombie-like appearance, tone, and gait of your fellow classmates that many students are sleep deprived. According to an online survey conducted by the National Sleep Foundation, high school students get an average of less than 7 hours of sleep a night. As the recommended amount of sleep for teenagers is 810 hours a night, this is clearly a nationwide problem. Only through the incorporation of later school start times can the Board of Education begin to combat the many serious effects of sleep deprivation in teens. The ensuing problems from ignoring sleep deprivation can be both mentally and emotionally crippling. Mentally, not only does comprehension, memory, and concentration falter, but lack of sleep can trigger depression. Physically, sleep deprivation slows reaction time, increasing susceptibility for car crashes. Not sleeping also has dietary effects that may be linked to the obesity epidemic in America. In a study conducted by scientist Eve Van Cauter, students subject to 4 hours of sleep a night for 6 consecutive nights were already in a pre-
diabetic state. Clearly, these health risks are not ones which most teenagers should be subject to. As CAPA is let out much later than other schools, it is affected on an even greater scale by the risks of sleep deprivation. Taking into account the lengthy commute time to downtown and extensive extra curricular activities (musical anyone?), CAPA students become emblematic of the nationwide problem. The benefits of later start times are clear. The National Sleep Foundation has gathered feedback from more than 100 school districts in 19 states that have pushed back their start-times. Schools that have changed their start times to later than 8 AM claim better attendance rates, superior academic performance, a happier student body, and less chance of sleep deprivation-induced car crashes. The argument against later starts usually stems from transportation issues in rearranging bus pickup and drop off, but CAPA is unique in its use of public transportation and would not suffer from this problem.
Environmentally Friendly Indie Band Cloud Cult Plays Mr. Smalls Experimental indie band Cloud Cult has made quite an impact on the musical industry with their refusal to accept record deals. “We want to make music on our own terms,” says Craig Minowa, who started the band in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Minowa lives on an organic farm that runs off geothermal energy and was built with reclaimed wood and recycled plastic. What started as a studio project has grown into a nationally recognized band that has soared to the top of college radio charts. The band’s sound is comparable to super-bands like Modest Mouse, Radiohead, the Flaming Lips, and Polyphonic Spree. Yet fame and fortune are not the band’s top priorities. Cloud Cult makes their albums from 100% recycled material using only clean energy, tour the country in a bio-diesel van, and even plant ten trees for every 1,000 albums they sell. Although all of this extra effort to be clean without the help of a recording company means the band spends a lot more on production, they still manage to charge only $10 for their albums. On Saturday November 15th, after opening with the hit song “Chemicals Collide,” Minowa addressed the audience gratefully: “Wow. You know all the record companies told us we shouldn’t bother coming to Pittsburgh, that there wasn’t really a scene here. But here we are, and here you are, and this is a scene. I think we were ill-advised.” He also introduced the unique aspect of the band – two visual artists who perform live paintings on stage during all of Cloud Cult’s performances. At the end of the show, the paintings were auctioned off to audience members. One can’t help but appreciate the family atmosphere of the band. Both of the visual artists are spouses of musicians in the band, and even the woman working merchandise was another wife of a band member. Cloud Cult
focuses as much on family values as they do environmental awareness. This stress may have been the result of the tragic loss of Minowa’s two-year-old child, after which he produced almost 100 songs to cope with the pain. The band played an especially long set, playing an encore song, “Love You All,” which ended the concert on an especially cheery note. Overall, the quality of the music was incredible, and the genuine appreciation for the audience was notable as well. However, above all, I felt proud that my $10 ticket was supporting a completely environmentally aware and completely friendly band rather than the drug addiction of some rock star.
My Father When my father came home, you knew it. Every splinter in the door greeted him with a wholesome crack, the kitchen started to smell like work, and I was already halfway down the stairs. My dad would take off his shirt, and I would take it. The smell of sweat and sawdust was nauseatingly enjoyable. I would wrap the shirt around my pillow and breathe through my nose until I fell asleep. On a normal morning, my father was leaning over the stove, strangling the handle of a pan in his bare hand. Breakfast burritos with salsa and whatever we had for dinner last night was his favorite. And because he liked it, I ate it too. My
father’s hands were worn but smooth like soggy wood. I would trace the lines in his hands like the rings on a cut open tree trunk. They were filled with work and splinters and nails and me. Food tasted better when they were made with his hands. As my father got older, the gray in his hair thinned to the lightness of bubbles. His hairline resembled a sandy shore. He even smelled like one when he was sweaty and salty enough. When my father walked, you could tell he was looking at the things around him with his carpenter’s eye. Those nails aren’t straight. These floorboards are on a tilt. I could fix that loose carpet in twenty minutes with a ruler and a meat tenderizer. You could see his observances in his eyebrows; the way they rose and fell like a fast sports car over hills in the countryside. He never attached this same judgment to people, only caring about things that he could construct, rebuild, and mold into another shape with the right set of tools. Sometimes when we were driving in the rusted blue truck with our arms out the window, I caught him looking at me this way, like the houses he bought as projects. The one thing I couldn’t see is if I was finished or not.
Food I’m doing this thing I heard about on NPR. It’s my dad’s old blue truck so it doesn’t matter too much. I slide the poptarts between the plastic creases of the heat and wait. My dad is walking from our rental property to the truck with his hands full of paint so I grab the poptarts out of the heater and wipe the crumbs from the dashboard. My dad slides into the front seat, and the key’s to the ignition jingle in his front shirt pocket. My poptarts are warm, and I’m smiling about it. I tell my dad to take a bite, and when he doesn’t notice my tricks, I’m pretty disappointed. I don’t say anything because I’m kind of scared that crumbs could lead to engine failure or something terrible with the brakes. At age 10, my knowledge of cars was minimal, but my knowledge of my father’s rage was at a maximum.
For my sister’s sweet 16, we went out to a fancy seafood restaurant. When I saw octopus on the plate, I screamed and ran away from the table, hiding in the bathroom. I knew it wasn’t going to hurt me. I also knew I didn’t have to eat it if I didn’t want to, but the fact that it was on a plate directly in juxtapose with utensils and a napkin implied that there was a possibility it would end up in my mouth. I was so scared by this idea that I had to separate myself from it as far as
possible. I stood in the bathroom and peed for a while, then washed my hands, drank some water, and tried to pee again to see if it would come out yet. Eventually, I walked back to the table, but when my family started laughing at me, I cried. I hated to be laughed at, especially for things that I knew deserved laughing at.
PLAYWRITING
The Thief CHAZ and JACK roam through a grocery store. Dressed in baggy clothing, they playfully push each other in and out of aisles. Occasionally grabbing a food item and stuffing it into his pants, JACK’s pants get progressively bulkier. Both look to be in their late teens or early twenties. JACK I don’t know man, it’s just not as fun as it used to be. CHAZ So you’re breaking up with her? JACK Nah, not until after Christmas. Maggie told me she got me something real good
this year. CHAZ You’re a jerk. JACK Do you want to get some Lucky Charms while we’re here? CHAZ Why would I want Lucky Charms? What are we even doing here? JACK Lucky Charms are made of rainbows and shooting stars. The better question is why wouldn’t you want Lucky Charms? (Jack takes the box of Lucky Charms, punches the middle, and awkwardly stuffs it down his pant leg) And, my first mate Chaz, we are here, sailing the desolate isles of Super Mart on a quest! CHAZ And what quest is that? JACK (Jack takes a box of macaroni and a can of soup from a woman passing with her shopping cart and tosses them to Chaz.) To plunder enemy ships my boy! CHAZ Aye aye cap’n! (Chaz and Jack pass groceries back and forth before eventually surrendering them to the cart.) Oh man, that lady was buggin’ out. JACK She’s still bitter about the peg leg. CHAZ Why do I even hang out with you? JACK How dare you ask Captain Jack a question like that! For the thrills of course! CHAZ Alright alright Cap’n. Let’s get out of here, I have community service. JACK You’re actually doing that crap? CHAZ My probation officer is making me. He says it’ll do my attitude some good. JACK (Begins to imitate Chaz) Masta masta, you want lemon in yo iced tea? You really know how to bend over
for the man Chaz. CHAZ Shutup Jack, I wouldn’t even have to do it if we didn’t do that stupid job anyway. JACK Listen Fatty McParty, maybe if you stopped grubbing once in a while you’d be able to outrun a pig or two. You don’t see me doing community service do you? CHAZ The only reason you got away is because you abandoned me. You’re never supposed to leave a friend behind. JACK What is this, the marines? When the popo shows, you’re on your own. CHAZ You learn that from your dad? JACK Don’t you talk about my dad! He did what he had to for my family. CHAZ Stealing? We can’t just go from scam to scam forever Jack. JACK You got a better idea Chaz? We all need our dough. CHAZ What about a job Jack? A real job. I’ve been talking to this guy at my community service about maybe… JACK What happened to Jack and Chaz until the end? I want to come in here to grab some groceries and all the sudden you’re telling me you’ve got a new friend… CHAZ What now I can’t make other friends? (Long silence) Why are you looking at me like that? JACK I’ve never seen somebody turn into a square so fast. (Jack begins to walk out of the store, but the beeper goes off as he goes through the doors.)
Simon Hailing from Bargle By Duncan Richer TIME The present, spring. Entire play takes place over the course of about a week. PLACE Starship Babushka- The starship that Simon lives on and is carrying out his mission for. An extremely advanced ship made of shiny metal, bearing ridiculously modern furniture. IE: chairs with 2 legs. Central Park, New York- outside, in the springtime. A set of stone chess tables with wooden benches rests in front of a gargoyle and a small pot with simple flowers in it. Charles’s house- an old fashioned and fairly normal house with a wooden table and wooden chairs. (As the lights come up, SIMON is sitting at a chess table in Central Park, New York staring very intensely at the pieces, despite the fact that he is not playing with anyone. Charles is approaching Simon at the table. Charles is dressed in a flannel shirt and up-tothe-belly-button-Dockers. Simon is wearing a very obviously out of place modern suit made of tinfoil.) CHARLES You know it takes two to play chess. SIMON Please, sit. (Extends hand extremely quickly-very awkwardly, and Charles shakes it.) CHARLES Charles, nice to meet you…? SIMON My name is Simon. I hail from Bargle. CHARLES
(Laughs) And where might that be, exactly? SIMON 12 Billion light years away. CHARLES What an imagination. Do you know how to play? SIMON The man before you told me how each of the pieces move, but he got a call that his wife was having a baby, so he didn’t have time to play. I guess you will be my first official game. CHARLES Having a baby, huh? SIMON No that was actually a lie; I don’t know why he left. Let’s play. CHARLES (Sits down) Well it’s your move, but I have to warn you, I play a good deal of chess. I started playing a lot in retirement. SIMON By all means, don’t go easy on me. (Moves piece) CHARLES So how old are you? And where do you live when you aren’t in Klargox or wherever it was. SIMON It’s Bargle, and I’ve lived there my entire life. I’m here on a research study of the planet Earth. I'm gathering information on Earth and subjects for a human petting zoo. CHARLES …I’m beginning to understand why the last man left. (Laughs) That’s quite an imagination you have there Simon. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere, I don’t think my wife is having a baby anytime soon. I’ll play along. (Moves piece) So tell me Simon, why did your planet send a twelve-year-old boy as their main investigator and human collector? SIMON I was the only one that volunteered. See, the most recently updated version of the Encyclopedia recorded Earthlings as vicious and deadly, so there wasn’t much demand for the position. Plus, I am not your average 12-year-old Earthling boy. CHARLES
Ok Simon, joke’s up. There is a difference between imagination and plain arrogance. I think you’re very close to it. (Moves piece) SIMON I understand this is a lot to take in at once, but I’m not lying. (Moves piece) CHARLES (Sighs, moves piece) Okay Simon, okay, whatever you say. SIMON I’m not. (Moves piece) CHARLES It’s mathematically impossible for you to have gotten here and be only 12 years old. The only possibility of extra terrestrial encounters on our planet would be for them to come from light-years away, and that would require them to have a lifespan of thousands of years, or to travel on a self sustaining environment-one that wouldn’t go unnoticed by the satellites orbiting Earth. (Moves piece, a little roughly) SIMON Do you base your entire life on mathematics? CHARLES I’m a retired math professor. SIMON Could you explain electricity or the mechanics of a supercomputer to a caveman Charles? (Moves piece) CHARLES It seems you've got me there. It's just a bit difficult to believe that I am sitting across from an alien. I've seen E.T. SIMON You think you're the only ones in the whole galexy? And you're calling me arrogant... (Moves piece) CHARLES I can’t believe I’m arguing with you. (Sighs, and then moves piece) Prove it. SIMON (Moves piece) Checkmate. CHARLES Oh my. I didn’t even…
SIMON I know. CHARLES Just because you beat me in a game of chess doesn't mean you're some kind of extra terestrail. SIMON I can do other things. CHARLES Fine, I’ll test you. I’m fluent in German, let’s see if you can learn German. (Digs in briefcase until settling on a thick book) Read this. SIMON Fair enough. Give me a minute. (pause) CHARLES See, your nothSIMON Hans is saying how it is the eventual truth that no matter how many years pass only the dead have seen the end of war-that history will continue to repeat itself. CHARLES Let me see that. (Snatches the book from Simon’s hands, reading over it to check for the accuracy) That’s, that’s perfect. SIMON I know. CHARLES There's an explanation for everything. You could have known German beforehand for all I know. Coincidence, sure, but not impossibility. SIMON Alright Bill Nye, what else do you want. Give me that Orange Juice. CHARLES Why? SIMON Don't worry, I won't take it all, I just want a sip. CHARLES Help yourself. (Hands over the Orange Juice.)
SIMON (Simon takes a sip) 34 Carbohydrates, 35 mg sodium, 30 g of sugar, and 150% of a human intake of vitamin C for humans. Mm mm good. This drink you call Orange is good. CHARLES (Grabs bottle back, reads label) My god, who are you? SIMON I’m Simon, hailing from Bargle. How do you feel about long hours of massage, a luxerious cage, and an atkins diet that actually tastes good prepared by our professional chefs? CHARLES (Long pause where Charles fiddles around with the chess pieces, still trying to figure out how he was beaten.) Simon, why don't you join my wife and I for dinner tonight? SIMON I only eat once every century or so, protein shake technology really improves in the future. But I can sit with you. (Blackout) (As the lights go up Simon is sitting down to dinner with both Charles and Jackie at a very small wooden table. Jackie is wearing a modest blouse-perhaps sewn by herself, and a pair of out-of-place cowboy boots. Jackie speaks in a delicate southern accent.) JACKIE It’s so nice to have a guest. Tell me a little bit about yourself, Simon. Are you in the 5th grade yet? My favorite teacher was in the 5th grade. CHARLES Well Jackie, Simon is a very speciaSIMON Well you see, I would be in the 6th grade, but on my home planet Bargle we are all given microchips that give us all of the subjects that you Earthling’s must waste years of your life learning. JACKIE (Uneasily) Sweetie, do you need some help? SIMON Yes! I would love some! I’m not sure if Charles told you already but I’m actually here to observe and gather information on Earth and your people. JACKIE
I see…when exactly are your parents coming to pick you up? SIMON Well my spaceship is coming to pick me up in a week, so I need to gather as much information as possible in that short time. And some human subjects too. I’m so glad to have met you and Charles, and I was hoping you’d be able to help me with some questions. JACKIE Test subjects? SIMON Yes, for my petting zoo. JACKIE Um, you see Simon, children your age have a very active imaginCHARLES (Calmly) Jackie, he isn’t lying. He’s from another planet. You’re sitting across the table from an alien. JACKIE An alien? CHARLES Full-blown alien. I know, I was a little disappointed too. There’s all that hype about the glowing green skin and the oval shaped heads butJACKIE Charles, don’t talk nonsense like that in this house! You are only encouraging the boy! CHARLES Jackie, I watched him learn German in 30 seconds; he beat me in chess the first time he’s ever played; he has the vocabulary of someone twice his age. It doesn’t add up. JACKIE That doesn’t mean anything Charles. I can’t believe we’re actually fighting about this, and furthermore you believe him! SIMON Would you like some help with the dishes? Why don’t I leave you two alone for a while. I’ll go clean up? JACKIE (Raises eyebrows, surprised) Why that would be wonderful Simon, thank you for being so thoughtful. (sarcastic) I guess that's something earthling boys don't learn for a while... (Simon gathers the enormous amount of dishes and leaves stage, after a long silence, Charles and Jackie
finally begin to talk) CHARLES Jackie, you’ve known me my entire life, have I ever lied to you? JACKIE This is just a little more extreme Charles. How do you expect me to believe that there is an alien in my kitchen washing my dishes? Do you know how much crap I would get if I brought up something like this to you? Just the other day I told you there were two toys in my cereal box, and you thought that was far fetched. How do you get the nerve to even bring up the idea that there is an extra terrestrial cleaning up after dinner? SIMON (Enters) I’m done. JACKIE Sweetie, I’m sorry I forgot to mention our dishwasher is broken; we have to wash all of them by hand. SIMON No, I fixed it. JACKIE I had it looked at yesterday; I need to order a special part. SIMON I built it. JACKIE Out of what? In 30 seconds? SIMON A spoon, a flyswatter, and an outlet plug, and it was closer to 27. JACKIE (Gets up, and briefly walks off stage, then comes back.) My god Charles, he did. He fixed it in 30 seconds. I was going to have to order that piece from Michigan; it’s the only place that makes it anymore. CHARLES I told you he was special. JACKIE (Frantically, her voice gets very high pitched) He’s not special! His dad is probably a mechanic! Maybe he had the piece in his pocket! I didn’t see any flyswatter in there! It was closer to a minute, a lot can happen in a minute! (Falls into Charles’s arms, crying, miserably coming to the conclusion she is wrong) There is an alien in my house.
CHARLES I’ll go make up your bed. (Blackout) (As the lights come up, Simon is sitting on his bed, speaking into a strange device that looks like a toothbrush.) SIMON This is agent 227895 reporting for duty, Bargle do you read me? CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Yes Simon, it’s Captain Hooberjuice! How are you holding up? Are you safe? Please don’t tell me you’ve had to use your Taser gun 2800? SIMON No I haven’t had any difficulties at all. They aren’t barbaric or anything Captain. These people are very much behind us technologically; however, they are no less civil. CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Don’t be ridiculous Simon, they’ve probably drugged you, you silly little child. I trust you are taking copious notes of how sharp their teeth are and how they are a pointless society that serves as a threat and embarrassment to the rest of the galaxy. SIMON Um, no sir, I’m not. These people have been very kind to me and I think that we have very much to learn from their world. They have many freedoms that we don’t, and they aren’t assigned jobs or lives, but rather choose them! CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Listen Simon, we cannot get side tracked, we have a mission to carry out. (There is a clicking noise; Simon looks at his toothbrush-like instrument in disbelief. Blackout) (As the lights come up Simon and Charles are sitting at the chess table again, playing another game of chess. Charles is wearing another flannel shirt of a different color.) SIMON Where's Jackie? CHARLES (Laughs) She's teaching a dance class, she'll be here later. SIMON (Pause)
Tell me about Earth. CHARLES (Laughs) Earth is a very complex place. It’s hard to just summarize it. Earth is separated into different parts; continents are the biggest, then countries, then states or provinces then cities then townships then neighborhoods then streets then eventually houses and you. So you are actually standing on a miniscule part of Earth, and perhaps part of Earth’s mystery is that nobody knows everything about it. It would be impossible to see what everyone else has seen, to have the same perceptions as everyone else, or to understand the differences between the different places. SIMON Why don’t you just hold a meeting where everyone is invited? CHARLES We try to do things like that, but it would have to be on such a big scale with so many problems to sort out it would take years to make progress-if any was ever made. SIMON What kind of problems? CHARLES War, poverty, diseases. Simon, they never end. Don't you have these problems on Bargle? SIMON We just agree on what's best. There isn't any war. Why don’t you all just agree on what’s best? JACKIE I'm sorry honey, I had to stay a little late while some of the girls mom's picked them up. CHARLES That's okay, you have perfect timing! Simon was just telling me about how there aren't any problems on Bargle because everybody agrees on what's best so there isn't any argument. JACKIE What a cooperative bunch. SIMON Why doesn't Earth do that? JACKIE It's a little difficult to have 6 billion people agree on something. Charles and I can't decide on dinner. SIMON Why can't everyone just realize what's best?
CHARLES Because everybody isn’t the same. They all have their own opinions and they are fighting and arguing to make everybody else believe what they believe. If we could all agree on one thing I’m sure everything would be perfect, but how can anybody say which is right and which is wrong? There is more then just one point of view, and that makes things very difficult. Sometimes there isn’t always just a completely polarized right or wrong, there might be a grey area, and interpreting that could take forever. SIMON On Bargle, any uprising is crushed immediatly and banned from the presses. Why doesn’t somebody make them believe what they believe? JACKIE Some people have tried that too, it doesn’t work. Hitler, most recently. He built an entire army and tried to take over the world, killing everybody that didn’t share his beliefs. But that led to a giant war that ended up killing millions of people and not accomplishing anything but death. SIMON Seems sensible to me. If you were all united under one person and shared the same beliefs then maybe there wouldn’t be any fighting any more. CHARLES Maybe not. JACKIE But our individuality is what makes us special, and when we lose that, we become clones with no personality. SIMON Clones with world peace. CHARLES I don’t know if I’m willing to make that trade off. SIMON Neither am I. JACKIE I don't see why you have chosen us to explain the ways of Earth to you. Shouldn't you be talking to the president or something? (Long pause) Nevermind, silly question. SIMON (Pause) I have to go home. CHARLES Why? I’ve been meaning to tell you something. SIMON What is it?
CHARLES Simon, I've been thinking a lot lately. JACKIE We've been thinking a lot lately. SIMON What is it? CHARLES Jackie and I want to make you our son. We want to adopt you. SIMON Oh. JACKIE What Charles is trying to say is that this time we've spent with you has been so different than our day to day lives. We've learned things about ourselves in a matter of days we may have never found without you. CHARLES I don't care how confusing intergalactic paperwork is. SIMON (Long pause) I have a duty to my people. CHARLES I’ve never been able to have a child Simon. I’m as the doctor would say “medically incapable” and I hate myself for it. God knows Jackie is a good mother with no child. JACKIE Charles, you can't blame yourself! CHARLES When I met you I thought things could be different. I thought that maybe this would work out. JACKIE Simon, we love you. SIMON I don’t want to leave Charles, I have to. CHARLES I don't understand. SIMON Please don't make this any harder Charles, I'm leaving tomorrow. SIMON Do you think this is easy for me!? I have never known what parents were before now! Do you know what it is liked to be treated like a machine, and then one day
it changes? It's amazing. Having to leave that? Do you have any idea what it's like? JACKIE Of course we do Simon. This is hard for all of us. SIMON This is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm leaving tomorrow. I wish I could stay here with you, but more is at hand then anyone will ever know. CHARLES A petting zoo? I've never been one for goodbyes. SIMON You forget that I can teleport, Charles. I promise we will meet again one day. JACKIE I would send you cookies, but UPS charges by the mile nowadays. SIMON Auf Wiedersehen. CHARLES The pleasure was all mine. JACKIE Goodbye Simon! Oh, do fly safe, or teleport safe. (As the lights come up Simon is stepping into a makeshift spaceship consisting of a port-a-potty, trash can lids, and assortments of completely random objects Before Simon makes the final step to walk into the spaceship he looks back and notices a bush, walking over to the bush Simon picks up a small lady bug and pockets it. After retrieving the ladybug, Simon walks into the port-a-potty and a loud ignition sound is heard, smoke pours out of the bottom of the makeshift spacecraft. Blackout) (As the lights come up Simon is standing in front of a sitting Captain Hooberjuice, who is vastly uninterested. They are aboard the Starship Babushka.) SIMON I’m back, (Pause) Captain. CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE I see that. And where are your subjects?
SIMON I didn't bring any. (Pause) You're not mad? CAPTAIN HOOBERJUCIE Of course not Simon. SIMON Why not? CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE (Laughs) Do you honestly think I sent a 12 year old boy down to earth to gather test subjects for a petting zoo? Who do you take me for? How many petting zoo's do you know of in outer space? SIMON Then why did you send me? CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Well, before you destroy a planet I suppose it's smart to gather some intelligence first. SIMON (Ignoring the question) Destroy!? CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE (Uneasily) Yes, they're in the way of our flight path. SIMON (Continues to ignore the Captain, appearing to be in an eerie trance) Can't we go around? CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE (Suddenly very angry, knocking on the arms of his chairs with force.) We're testing out our newest weapons on Earth, it's a great test subject because of... SIMON A great test subject!? There are people down there! CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Maybe if you had brought back some of them for the petting zoo, you could have saved a few lives. (Laughs) Oh, petting zoo, where do you get these things Hooby? SIMON
Actually, I did bring back one subject. CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Is that so? SIMON Something that is different about Earth is their fascination with war. Their planet is made up of thousands of little countries, and each one has their own individual army or militia force, the best of which produce tools of mass destruction so powerful and in such great quantity that the entire planet became nothing but a battle ground. In fact, these weapons were so plentiful they decided they would share one with me. Behold the beetle! (At this point, Simon reaches into his pocket, revealing the beetle he had taken off of the planet before he left earth in a small glass tube. He stands up waving the beetle in the air threateningly. Captain Hooberjuice has jumped out and over his chair, hiding behind the back of it, cowering and holding his knees, sobbing and slobbering, belittled to a small child.) CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE (Screaming) Not the beetle! Please Simon, you don’t understand, you are still a small boy. You cannot handle these things lightly! If you unleash that weapon and destroy our galaxy, then, then, well it would just be terrible! Think of your parents Simon, think of all of the other people that live in this galaxy! SIMON (Furious) I don’t even know who my parents are! I’m not taking this situation lightly at all Captain, there are some things I want and I think my little friend Buzzy here (Points at the beetle) is going to help me out, help me enforce my new rules-if you will. CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE What kind of things? SIMON To turn the ship around for one, to leave Earth unharmed, to free our people of this anarchy, to awake Bargonians from their dormant sleep, to stop following assignments, to become people, not robots! CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE (Sobbing) I don’t think you understand what you are asking Simon. SIMON (Screaming) I understand! Don’t tell me I don’t understand! CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE You can’t just give people that much freedom and individuality. SIMON
Why not? You tell me why we cant. CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Because it’s unstructured and creates chaos when people aren’t united under a common goal. SIMON How is it any better to be united under a common goal if we are all just clones of one another? CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Simon…it just can’t be done. SIMON Would you prefer to play by my rules, or to play by no rules again, no rules ever? Because there won’t be any rules as soon as I let little Buzzy out for a walk, no rules, no nothing. Maybe you want to die Captain. If I were you I might want to die too. Maybe you just want to let go. CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Don’t be ridiculous Simon. Our great planet has been accomplishing things, and I want to lead it even further. Why don’t you put down the beetle and we can discuss what you saw on Earth. SIMON (Shaking the glass jar with the beetle in it, flicking it violently next to his ear) Did you hear that Mr. Beetle? He wants me to put you down. Did you hear that, he wants me to fall victim, to become another one of his brainwashed minions CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE You will do as I say Simon! Put down the beetle! SIMON (Simon starts mocking Frankenstein, holding his arms out like a zombie, pacing up and down the stage, speaking in a monotone) Yes master, yes master, yes master. CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Stop it Simon! SIMON (Shaking the jar more and more violently) Stop what Captain? I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop what captain? CAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE Simon, stop it right now!
SIMON
(Still shaking the jar) Is it just me, or is it extremely hot in here? Man, I feel like I’m sweating all over, this jar is just nearly slipping out of my hands. It’s so closeCAPTAIN HOOBERJUICE OK! Fine! Ok we’ll turn around! I’ll do what I can Simon, just please, stop shaking that damned beetle. SIMON (Steps forward, spotlight shines down) So then we have an agreement. Bargle will become a free nation. Earth will remain a free planet, unharmed and safe. The era of tyranny and a controlled people has come to an end, on this date, Bargle is a new world, one modeled after the beliefs of a far more primitive and simplistic society-that of Earthlings; a culture that is to be respected for their continuation to believe in “god”, for their ability to solve problems, and for their influence on other cultures. We will stop this quest of galaxy domination, instead focusing on the matters at handhomeland security and sensibility. If we continue to focus on destroying and conquering other galaxies how can we put aside time to examine ourselves? We are not perfect, but we will do our best to follow the guidelines of justice, equality, and change. So then Captain, I believe under the rules of our agreement we have to turn this ship around.
THE DENTISTS OFFICE CHACTERS Delilah, a 26 year old bipolar daycare worker whose main goal in life is to have a big family. Dr. Sherman, a 34 year old sarcastic dentist with dreams of becoming a rock star. TIME The present, late evening, the last appointment of the night for Dr. Sherman. PLACE Dr. Sherman’s dentist office. The office is pristinely clean and has dentist tools placed neatly on trays by reclining chairs. An ultra bright light shines above the
chairs illuminating anybody sitting in them. The floors are a cold tile and the smell of disinfectants is very apparent. (As the lights come up, DELILAH is walking into DR. SHERMAN’S office where he is sitting in a rolling chair rearranging his tools somewhat obsessively.) DR. SHERMAN And you must be Mrs. Evans? The last appointment of the day… DELILAH (DELIALAH is carrying multiple plastic grocery bags filled with dozens of cans of corn) Yes that’s me, but you can call me Delilah. Is there a place where I can set down these groceries? DR. SHERMAN Yes, yes right behind you is fine. Jesus Christ you must love canned corn. DELILAH Do not say the Lords name in vein! I have just left a church of god! Have some dignity. And if you must know, I am going to a homeless shelter immediately after this checkup. Do you honestly think that I could eat 48 cans of corn on my own Dr. Sherman? Well that would just be ridiculous. DR. SHERMAN I apologize; this will only take a minute. If you’ll just take a seat right here then we can get to work. DELILAH (DELILAH begins to say something, but Dr. Sherman immediately shoves his hands into her mouth without addressing her concerns.) Now I have been flossDR. SHERMAN Oh my lord what teeth you have! These K-nine pallets are unbelievable. Your molars are immeasurably perfect! I have never seen such healthy gums in my life. (aside) I think I’m in love… DELILAH I’ve always loved you Dr. Sherman! Ever since the first time you put your latex covered hands into my mouth while I was still talking. I think we’ll be perfect for each other, we can raise a family and you can become a member of my church and we’ll run awDR. SHERMAN Ms. Evans, I mean, Delilah, it was an expression; I’m not really in love. I’ve only known you for twenty minutes. DELILAH I apologize doctor, I’ve just gone off of my meds and it’s been a difficult transition. They just made me feel very hazy and you see I wanted to finally feel real for
once. I felt very numb and now that I’m off of them I feel so real. Yes I can’t really find a better word right now, but real seems to sum it up. DR. SHERMAN Oh, no actually I do understand. A guy in my band used to have a drug addiction, he talked about that sort of thing once he got clean. We actually just got back from the studio right now. Layed down a real sweet one. Album, that is. DELIALAH So you’re a musician? Sometimes I feel like music is all we have. Music and being real… DR. SHERMAN Uh, yeah. If all goes well on the album maybe we’ll be rock stars by the end of the week! Dentist turned rock star what do you think? DELILAH Can I be your groupie? We could be so happy together you would play your music and I wou(DR. SHERMAN attaches laughing gas mask to DELILAH and she immediately falls asleep, failing to reach her goal.)