SPADINA SNIPERS:
JAMES DEAN, LEROY ‘THE REAL’ MCCOY, CHARLIE ‘CHAPLIN’ CHAN.

THE SCARBOROUGH ASSASSINS:
BERNARD ‘KILLER’ HOPKINS, JIM ‘THE JACKHAMMER’ JOHNSON and DARNELL ‘MANIAC’ MADSEN.

And FEATURING: SAMUEL JACKSON as REGGAE-CABBIE.

Scene 1

Opening Scene: JAMES DEAN and his two friends LEROY ‘THE REAL’ MCCOY, and CHARLIE ‘CHAPLIN’ CHAN make up THE SPADINA SNIPERS. They are riding the subway (background setup like a Subway Car) and are warming up for a rap battle to take place that night on Toronto’s eastside. Screeches can be heard from the Subway’s brakes, and odd mumblings of conversations in the distance from a few odd people riding alongside the Snipers.

 JAMES DEAN 

Warmin’ up for a rippin’ battle `tween sides,
Another subway token’s what we need to collide,
Different strokes for different folks caught in a mime,
Shatter the glass with some of my fiercest rhymes
Think you one of a kind? You ain’t got a chance
Unless you redefine reading my mind and make an advance,
Don’t think you got what it takes in ya,
I got a team that’s ready to kill ya

With poetry in motion from deep in T.O.
Kings of the jungle, listen to us roar,
We coastin’ on a wave from downtown to the east
Look out, I attack fierce from the belly of the beast – Unleashed.

This story’s underway, it’s just getting started,
You wanna battle us, you must be retarded
Run you over like that kid does in Friday Night Lights,
Never going down though, cause I ignite with insights,
Blow you up with dynamite, an option that don’t feel quite right/
So I’ll give you tha opportunity to fade away into the darkness of the night.

JAMES DEAN

(Leroy gets a beat-box going while tapping his feet in the subway car).

Uh, ya, c’mon Leroy. Keep that beat going. Shit ya. I can’t wait to catch these Scarborough cats off-guard. I know they ain’t expecting nothing from us so it’ll be even sweeter when we tear them apart.

LEROY

I hope you’re right, bro. I’m just sorry for getting us in this situation in the first place. And by the way, nice warm-up, Deaner, you really are the coolest cat. I’m just happy to stand by your side. Your parents named you right man. James Dean. Ha. No nickname required.

JAMES DEAN

Whatever Leroy, stop making me blush. Besides, it’s all good. This is just the challenge The Spadina Snipers needed anyway. I mean who’d a known you’d bump into one of the fiercest rappers on the eastside. Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s opportunity. Either way there ain’t no looking back now.

CHARLIE

Ya. That’s what I’m talking about. Step into the limelight. I don’t know where we’d be without you Dean. Seriously though. Leroy and I were just two young punks not too long ago, but with you as our leader we can take on anyone ya’ know. You got our backs, and we got yours. The way it’s meant to be – without getting too cheesy or nothing.

LEROY

With that being said. Thanks again for stepping in for me last night Deaner. I guess the booze hit me harder than I even knew, and yo’, I was not ready for Bernard.

Scene 2

Stage lights flash out then flash back a few moments later with the SPADINA SNIPERS walking the streets of Toronto. It’s the night before and LEROY is the most intoxicated of the three from the house party they just left. Cars honking can be heard as they drive by the stumbling Leroy.

CHARLIE

Sheesh, Leroy. Get a hold of yourself man. You is acting like a drunken fool. Don’t make me throw you on my back ‘cause you know I’ll never let you live it down.

JAMES DEAN

Quit bustin’ his chops Charlie. We all know you’ve been there before. Remember that kegger a few weeks back. Wasn’t it Leroy holding your toque for ya, while you kissed that ceramic bowl? That’s what I thought.

As CHARLIE and JAMES DEAN banter back and forth
LEROY stumbles ahead around a corner, and BERNARD and his crew bump into him head on.

BERNARD/KILLER

(To his comrades first)  Shit, who is this fool? I’m a smoke this knucklehead.

(To Leroy)

Yo, you’re a stumbling idiot who can’t even walk straight,
bumping into me? You just determined your own fate
I’m a pummel you – head first into the underground
when you enter the earth, we won’t even hear a sound
You a clown
A Nobody.
Send the search party, to find the remnants of your soul
Seriously, don’t take another step – You lost control
This cat is finished, I’m breakin’ the mold of a Real MC
No one even cried at your funeral – What a Tragedy
Death by my Design. So take my advice:
Turn to your crew, Tell em to resign, run away and hide.

LEROY

(Leroy slurs his dialogue while wading back and forth) What?? Whaaat – you wanna battle me? Oh no. Oh no you didn’t. I’m Leroy. ‘The Real’ McCoy, and I know you don’t want none of this!

BERNARD/KILLER

Whatever you say poindexter. My name is ‘Killer’ and if you think I’m scared of you and your mixed medley crew you’re dreamin’. Anytime you want a piece of me and my boys – Anytime – we’ll be killin’ it at Highland Creek Park, waiting for you chumps.

JAMES steps in to defend his drunken boy LEROY.

JAMES DEAN

I’m a save my words tonight, Killer, but we accept your challenge, and forget waiting. We’ll meet you tomorrow night for a showdown. Ten o’clock, Highland Creek Park. A straight up battle. Your best and you, versus my boys Leroy, Chaplin and me. You think you can handle that?

KILLER and his crew of JIM ‘THE JACKHAMMER’ JOHNSON and DARNELL ‘MANIAC’ MADSEN roar with laughter right in their faces.

DARNELL

Ha, you boys make it out to the Borough and we’ll battle you alright. You ain’t even said nuttin’ yet. Peace.

Stage lights flash out, then back in, resuming to the present moment and the TTC subway car with the Spadina Snipers still en route to Highland Park.

Scene 3

LEROY

Just thinking about that verse and how I made an ass of myself kills me. Sorry again Chaps. Sorry Deaner. I ain’t mean for you to have to step in for me like that.

CHARLIE

You know what man, don’t even sweat it. He caught you off-guard and we’re gonna get our chance at redemption tonight. Just hang in there and stay confident. Deaner had your back last night, and we both gonna step up now. Who cares that the last time I was in the Borough, I was with my Dad laptop shopping.

(somewhat sarcastically) I ain’t scared. 

LEROY

(with uncertainty) Thanks guys.

Scene 4

The SPADINA SNIPERS, JAMES, LEROY, AND CHARLIE
arrive at Scarborough Centre – eastside – and exit the
streetcar. Lights fade out then back with them standing outside the Scarborough Centre. Their current location seems to be a somber scene, as if all other lights have burnt out, but the one directly above them.

JAMES DEAN

What do you guys think? I mean I know I didn’t google map the exact location of this park. Either of you?

CHARLIE

I know you’re looking at me, Deaner, but you can forget about it. Aren’t you the leader anyway? Why when it comes to computers and directions do you always look at me?

JAMES DEAN

Because you’re the number two Charlie, and well, I just figured you’d know how to get there – You know what. Forget it. I’m a hail down this cab.

Scene 5

JAMES DEAN

Hey man, you think you can get us to Highland Creek Park?

REGGAE-CABBIE

Sure ting man. Hop in. As long as you don’t mind the reggae tunes, as I be jammin’ tonight! (REGGAE-CABBIE observes the tense looks on the boys’ faces). Pardon me sayin’ but you boys seem awfully quiet tonight! Cat got your tongues or something?

LEROY
 

(Timidly)Well actually man we’re on our way to battle the Scarborough Assassins. We had a bit of a run in last night and well, we’re on our way to meet Killer and his crew right now. Know anything about those guys?

REGGAE-CABBIE

(Nervously at the mention of the Assassins) You boys be careful, ya hear. Dem boys don’t fool around man! I ain’t gonna stick around for da funeral but cause I likes ya’s, here is my cell phone number. I’m not sayin’ I’m a come around to get ya’s, but it seems like you boys is a long way from home and dose digits might just come in handy.

JAMES DEAN

That’s awfully nice of you man. But if you don’t mind me asking – why you gonna help out a couple east-siders like us? You don’t think we can handle ourselves?

REGGAE-CABBIE

Slow your role boyyy! I ain’t sayin’ none of dat. All I’s a sayin’ is if you have any smarts, which by the looks of it – YOU do – then you’ll take dis ‘ere number and tink nuttin’ of it. Call it a watchful eye between one man and another. Anyway, that’ll be $8.20 and don’t tink for a second that cause I likes ya dat dis ‘ere is a free fare. I gots to eat too ya know! Big ups – respect. And hey: Good luck!

With that, the REGGAE-CABBIE pulls to the side of the road (veers while sitting on his box), points to a crowd in the distance stationed in the center of the park under the beaming ballpark lights and wishes them luck.

Scene 6

Lights fade out as they shuffle off their boxes to exit the car, then fade back in with the trio center stage timidly trekking forward. As they approach the all-black crowd the stage lights black out for half a second and when they come back to, there is an amber dimmer essence with a new backdrop of Highland Park, and a baseball diamond in the background.

JAMES DEAN

Alright boys, keep your cool, let’s do this.

BERNARD/KILLER

WELL, WELL, look who decided to show up! None too soon neither as we was thinkin’ you boys was pussies and didn’t have it in ya.

Phat instrumental beats blast in the background. KILLER walks right up to DEAN and stares him down, their noses practically touching

BERNARD/KILLER

You ready, boy?

JAMES DEAN

We’re ready, how you wanna do this?

BERNARD/KILLER

I say fuck this group battle shit. Me and you mother fucker. Just me and you. I’ll fuckin’ kill you like I did your boy last night. Real McCoy my ass! You think you up for that Dean-o?

JAMES DEAN

Let’s do it. Your turf and all though so why don’t you show me how it’s done, tough guy!

BERNARD THE KILLER chuckles to himself, turns and looks at his boys, then to his girl in the crowd. He then glances at the D.J. and nods for him to kick that J. Dilla
instrumental record that would serve as the back-beat for this epic battle. Killer clears his throat, looks Dean directly in the eyes and begins. Stage lights focus on Killer with a deep blue haze.

 
BERNARD/KILLER

I thought we came to do battle with a small group of men,
Not a group of small men, who let you out of your playpen?
Your clothes are so tiny, bought at the Baby Gap,
Now you come on this stage, thinkin maybe you can rap?
Looks like I’m gonna have to teach y’all a little lesson,
So listen up close, your preschool’s in session…
Lesson 1: come strong with a real set of rhymes,
Not “green eggs and ham” son, get with the times.
Lesson 2: Your Mr. Dressup songs won’t work for you here,
You’re amongst men now, check the headlights, deer.
Lesson 3: Don’t stand there awestruck, like a cat got yer tongue!
Lesson 4: You just got served/I’m droppin the mic/ Done!
 

With that, DEAN doesn’t even miss a beat and comes out swinging. Lights shift to JAMES DEAN with a cool
green hue.

JAMES DEAN

Alright, alright, looks like you rehearsed,
I’m super impressed, you remembered your verse,
You got more of those lyrics under your skirt?
Or maybe they’re hidin’, in your man’s purse?
But back to reality, your skills are not strong,
You lack originality, I’m right while you’re wrong,
You kinda a chimp, they callin’ me Kong,
You seem sorta high, who’s Cheech and who’s Chong?
Slow down a minute, you seem out of touch,
You huff and you puff, but you ain’t sayin much,
Recycling lyrics, your crew is a crutch,
You trippin’ on the rope, while I double dutch, what’s up?

The crowd hums and haws both ways, but definitely seem stunned by JAMES DEAN’s composure and solid flow. KILLER seems a little flustered. Stage lights jump back to BERNARD with an even deeper blue.

BERNARD/KILLER

Young boy comin’ out and callin us biters?
We Scarborough, bitch, we soldiers, we fighters!
Don’t test my patience, I’ll tear you apart,
Have you wide open, as I pull out your heart
You and your boys are pussy, vagina,
Go back to your home, you queens from Spadina!
You’re kiddies, not grown, not even halfway,
You’re total, you’re fully, much more than half-gay.
You’ve sparked a torch, you’ve ignited a fire,
You’ve just gotten started, but I’m a’ make you retire!
Don’t come around here, this isn’t your place,
You stupid, you ugly, get outta my face!

With that verse the surrounding posse goes berserk, waving their arms in the air and even a few “KILLA, KILLA” chants begin. DEAN, un-phased pops in. Stage lights switch back to the green hue and DEAN as the focus.

JAMES DEAN

You’re angry, you’re mad, you ain’t thinking straight,
Don’t keep it all in, Just let out the hate!
The ‘roids are on target, they do seem to work,
They’ve shrunk up yer nuts and made you a jerk,
Those pumped up biceps and chest make you scary,
There’s all sorts of acne where you used to be hairy,
I know you are confident, still feelin’ fine,
But ladies ain’t feelin, your receding hairline.
Calm down Hulk, you’re bout to turn green,
Your grunts you call lyrics are causin’ a scene.
That homophobe lyric, just didn’t sound right,
From a male prostitute, a man of the night.
I’m not into fightin’, this shits about verses,
Your hearts palpitating, quick, call the nurses.
Truly a King of the Night, Spadina’s my hood,
Don’t ever come downtown again, it’ll do you no good.

With that last bar, the heavy hitting Scarborough crowd keep their arms up high. Jeers and shouts in favour of JAMES DEAN’s verse are heard. Although no obvious winner is in sight after the first couple rounds, the tone is set and these two rhyme warriors are equally matched. That much is clear. KILLER winces a half smile and nods in DEAN’s direction. He sets his stance to begin a third go-around. At that moment sirens chime in. The Scarborough Police Force arrive and are intent on separating the larger than normal crowd. With numerous hoodlums and drug king-pins amongst the crowd, everyone scatters in all directions, but not before KILLER grabs DEANER’s arm.

BERNARD/KILLER

You know what kid? I underestimated ya. Great battle! But just so you know I had ya with that next verse!

(BERNARD winks at JAMES as he says this. They slap hands, pound shoulders with a half-ass embrace, and take off in opposite directions - JAMES DEAN smiling to himself as he stumbles away).

 
JAMES DEAN

(half aloud, half to himself ) I guess we’ll never know. I guess we’ll never know.

LEROY, nearby with CHARLIE, whips out his cell-phone, and dials REGGAE-CABBIE. Ring,Ring. Ring, Ring…

REGGAE-CABBIE

(off-stage) I see you kid, I see you. Meet me down da’ road where da’ creek bends. I’ll get you boys outta dere safe and sound. And hey, tell your boy…..Nicely dun, nicely dun. This ‘ere Rasta never miss da chance to catch a battle like dat one…

THE END.

Matthew Weagle

A man in a black suit stands beside a tall barstool at centre stage.  There are three yellow spotlights and the man stands under the middle one.  He has a glass of wine.  There is a piano behind him.

Soft music is heard but no one is playing the piano.

I died in France.

Of course that wasn’t my goal.  It just happened that way.  People, most people, don’t choose the location of their demise.  They end up in hospitals or along the side of a dark highway.  They find their terminal scene set in a mineshaft or an over loaded ferryboat in the Philippines.  I doubt these are places that people have chosen or intentionally selected.  I’ve heard that most people die in their own beds.  That sounds nice.  Well, nicer than the bottom of a canyon or the sidewalk next to a high-rise apartment.  I died in Paris, the City of Lights, and as luck would have it I died in a cemetery although I am not buried in that cemetery.

Unfortunately my mortal husk was shipped back to Canada where it belongs, at a great expense to my poor family.  My sister picked up the casket and paid the three thousand five hundred euro cost of the transportation.  I am okay with that.  You see, I partially blame her for my fate; an early death and an unhappy life spent vainly searching for something I could never find.  You may think I sound bitter.  I am okay with that, too.

I say that I only partially blame my older sister for my death because dying is always, sometimes just a little but always partially one’s own fault.  We don’t take care of our bodies.  We don’t make the right choices in life.  The wrong turn down the wrong road.  How you live is your own responsibility; therefore, so is how you die.

Yes, I blame my sister and her blue blanket.  Let me explain.

Lights change to a pale blue.  The man sits on the stool and sips the wine.

The music continues.

My sister Catherine is three years my senior.  We shared our childhood happily in a Toronto suburb and spent our time either avoiding our private elementary school or avoiding our parents.  We were inseparable.  We stuck together during swimming lessons, ice-skating, summer camps and the like.  Oh… and of course, piano lessons.  She excelled at piano.  I, however, did not.

Music abruptly stops. He looks at the half empty wine glass, sighs and clears his throat.

Music starts again.

I credit my loving sister for attempting to motivate me to achieve greatness in any field, of any sort.  This I did not do.  I can’t give excuses for my disappointing performance in my young life.  But I will place blame.  Intentional or not, Catherine sabotaged my every effort to succeed.  She was the darling of all the adults in our life.  Our parents on their dinner party and cocktail swilling circuit invariably filled the mingling and conversation with talk of Catherine’s recent achievements: first prize at a dance recital, top grades at the stuffy private school and future scholarships to unbelievably expensive universities.  To put it simply, my given place was in her shadow.  My birthright was to follow her never-ending examples of success.

He sips wine and takes a deep breath.  And angry look comes across his face.  The R and L side lights change to red.  The centre light remains blue.  The music gets a little louder.

Enter the blue blanket.  The scene is my seventh birthday.  Mother and Father have left for the evening, leaving me in the care of my ten-year-old sister.  My birthday present is a Philipe Entremont recording of Claude Debussy’s “Children’s Corner”.  This is my present but I know that they mean it for Catherine.  She was to begin her eighth-grade piano class the following Sunday and her new, terribly expensive teacher had been famous for ‘pulling the Debussy out of his young charges’.  I am seven years old.  I don’t know Debussy from orange juice.  Why?  Why, Mother?  Don’t I deserve a birthday present?  Something for me?

The music gets louder.

He wipes tears from his face and finishes the wine in one sip.

Catherine took me into the music room and put the big black 78′ on the record player.  She told me to get under the coffee table.  “This is the only way listen to Debussy” she said.  Catherine pulled a large blue blanket over the coffee table and placed the needle on the record.  I was in a world of blue.  I forgot about birthdays and parents, competitions and judgments.  Debussy’s music filled my brain with new thoughts and new feelings.  I saw landscapes of far-off countries.  I smelled flowers of unknown gardens.  I was transported away from me…And us.  That was my introduction to my imagination.  That experience introduced me to myself.  I was irrevocably changed.  Not for the better.

He stands and puts the empty glass on the stool.

The R and L sidelights go back to yellow.  The music softens.

The rest of my childhood was spent withdrawn.  No psychologist could figure me out.  No sister could motivate me.  No music could inspire me.  Except, of course Debussy.  In my teenage years I wandered around Canada and America searching for some other way into that blue world of Debussy and imagination.  I needed to return to my Self.  But I never found that door; neither in any bottle nor any pill.  Not in women, not thrills.  I had but one course of action left.  To France I fled, with the hope of rekindling the magical senses that had been inert and diffused since my experience under the coffee table in the music room, under the blue blanket.  I continued my debauchery and brooding in Paris.  I had no results or epiphanies.

The music gets quiet.  The sidelights fade out, leaving him under a blue spotlight.

One winter evening, after spending my last franc on a bottle of shiraz, I found the Cemetaire De Passy.  I wandered and sobbed and drank until I collapsed in a heap of regret and dry leaves.  Shivering and bleary-eyed I collected some leaves and the previous night’s snow and made a pillow.  The gravestone that I uncovered was, of course, that of Claude Debussy, 1862-1918.  I had found the door.

Thus, I died in Paris.  I blame myself.  And I blame my wonderful sister, Catherine.

The light fades out and the music continues for 20 seconds in the dark.

THE END

WHITE A 17-year-old female character dressed in mainly stark bright white.

RED The same/similar female character at 17 ½ and wearing mainly dark maroon or blood red.

BLUE The same/similar female character at 18 and wearing mainly bright medium blue.

SETTING

The interior of a sterile white bathroom. Only a toilet, a bathtub, and a bathmat are present.

The bathroom is downstage centre. The toilet is facing the audience; to the left of the toilet, the long edge of the bathtub faces the audience; on the floor, towards the left edge of the bathtub, is a bathroom mat. WHITE is sitting on the toilet facing the audience. RED is sitting on the edge of the bathtub with one leg crossed over the other. RED is also facing the audience. BLUE is sitting on the bathmat, turned with her left side facing the audience. The spotlight fades up on WHITE.

WHITE Everything is born white. Snow, snowballs, snowflakes all beautiful white. Snowmen in their pure white skin like porcelain babies. Beautiful porcelain dolls so white, clean, and fragile. Fragile like a pretty lily flower you see in the spring. A white lily that waits for the perfect, clear day to smile. To smile is to be happy, and happiness is definitely white.

You know what makes me happy?

(beat)

A deep warm bath overflowing with white bubbles. The steam rises in little white wisps, and the bubbles grow into jiggling castles. The castles breaking into floating icebergs, as I slowly slide in. The white magnolia scent calms my mind. The bubbles stick to me as I slip back out of the water, popping and snapping on my skin like thousands of fairy kisses.

WHITE stands up and takes a step towards the audience. She starts to fiddle with her hair and appears to put on make-up; looking at the audience as if they were a mirror.

WHITE My love. My first true love. My heart feels huge, as big as the world! It is white and clean; clear and open to give love forever too you. Your hair, your face, your ears, your nose, your neck…I love it all!

I see you in everything that I do, you’re always right there with me. Everything I hear is you, everything I speak is you, and everything I think is you.

I know you love me too. Your beautiful light blue eyes express it. Your large warm hands gesture it. Your soft upturned lips whisper it. This feeling is much too strong to just be me. I know you love me. I feel it, I see it, I hear it, I know it, every time I am with you, my love.

WHITE steps back and sits on the toilet facing the audience once again.

My love, my white love, my true love. I know lots of people are down on love, but it is truly the most exquisite, and beautiful, and pleasing human experience to exist. Just the thought of another being sharing my life, my passions, and my problems melts the icy negativity that doubt breeds.

(beat)

When I sit next to you on the loveseat, the light plays on your skin and makes you glow. You glow white, every part of you is beautiful white. Except your lips, those are red, red as an apple, as a cinnamon heart, as a rose.

Once I see how red your lips are, I can feel heat rush into mine. I know that they are red too, love has ignited them.

Closer and closer our two points of red, among all the white, draw. This is the first time, the first kiss, and the closest we have ever been. Closer, closer, closer…

The spotlight on WHITE fades, and reappears on RED.

RED Romance. A tiny kiss here, a little ass squeeze there. Both can leave you with a red flush of embarrassment and excitement. The smallest of touches can lead to lingering pats. Lingering pats, well, we all know where those can lead. As many a girl confesses, one thing just leads to another sometimes.

(beat)

Only the prudish speak of the act as ‘another.’ For everybody else it is sex. No pretty words to hide what I mean, sex. Ohhh, yes, every innocent and beautiful relationship has a dirty shadow. Lust and sex. Both things we are taught to hide in the darkest recesses of our minds, and to never breathe life into vocally. ‘How can something so pure as love, turn into something so bodily and carnal as lust and sex?’ Well, let’s just say love is like a hill, and lust gets the so-called ball of sex rolling down it. It’s inevitable; the laws of mortal physics demand it. Once you give it a little shove, the whole red field opens up right in front of you. That imbedded animal need of another physical body to complete our own. That red sightless creature desire passed down from forever and forever.

In some centuries it is celebrated, and in others it is abominated.

(beat)

Right now, I am celebrating.

RED glowers towards WHITE.

RED Ohhh, yes sweetie, sex is a big part of everything. Life, relationships, status, business, money, and you. Even if you didn’t go looking for it in the first place, it will still find you. Sex bears power. If you have it you can flaunt it, and shame people who don’t or can’t. Kingdoms have fallen, empires lost, and presidencies questioned due to sexual imbalances.

(beat)

It’s like a clique that people either embrace with everything they have, or try to hide at all costs. A clique who’s disciples start with a kiss, then a hand over a swollen breast, then a tugging off of clothes, then a warming of bodies, and finally the red insertion of one into another. Once that red has penetrated your pure white flesh, there is no going back.

RED stands up and walks towards WHITE. RED has a large paintbrush with red paint on in her hands. After the end of each of the following lines, she paints a large red line onto WHITE’s clothes.

RED Sex. Red.

Breast. Red.

Screw. Red.

Tongue. Red.

Fuck. Red.

Vagina. Red.

I love you. Red.

Penis. Red.

Do me. Red.

More. Red.

You would if you loved me. Red.

Ok. Red.

Just a quickie. Red.

Now? Red.

I am so horny though. Red.

But…. Red.

RED stops painting WHITE and returns to her seat on the edge of the bathtub. She sits with her head in her hands looking out towards the audience.

RED Love, lust, sex, myself, passion, promise, all of these things get a little stirred right about now. Sex and commitment go hand in hand surely. It is a physical promise between two people.

But when does commitment grow into something more?

(beat)

You don’t own me, what makes you think you do? I am not yours, I am mine.

‘I know that’ you tell me apologetically.

I forgive and forget. We have shared too much to throw all of it away. We have shared love, we have shared life, and we have shared sex. It just wouldn’t be right to give up on something so significant as this. It wouldn’t be right.

(beat)

Red roses, red boxes of chocolate, red lipstick, and red candles at a dinner table hail I love you. Every action and every word says it over and over.

I love you, I love you, I love you!

RED turns sadly towards WHITE.

RED But it is only a platitude. He says it so truthfully, to make it all ok.

(beat)

‘Don’t go out with your friends, stay with me. I love you.’

(beat)

‘It’s only raining a little bit; you can walk to my house. You want to see me don’t you? I love you.’

(beat)

‘I know you’re eating supper with your family, but I am bored. Come over quick. I love you.’

(beat)

Once you see through the white glare of love, the red head of uncertainty emerges. Uncertainty, the number one killer of love.

(beat)

But maybe I am being rash; I am just over thinking things again. After all, he did say he loved me.

RED sighs and stands up. (beat)

RED ‘Come on babe, your parents aren’t home…and I have a condom.’

What if they come back, what if they catch us? They’ll kill me.

‘Come on babe, don’t you love me?’

Ok, yes I do.

(beat)

‘It doesn’t matter if my friends are in the next room, princess, we can do it quietly. You can be quiet can’t you?’

I don’t know, I don’t feel…

‘Beautiful, they won’t hear. You just have to be real quiet. Don’t you love me?’

Yes, yes I do.

(beat)

‘I hear the kitchen table is a great place, lets do it on the kitchen table.’

But, I don’t think it’ll be very comfy…

‘Come on, sweets, try something new. Don’t you love me?’

Yes I do.

(beat)

‘Bitch, why do I always have to ask for sex! Don’t you love me?’

I do.

(beat)

‘Whore! Do you make a habit of asking other guys to fuck you?

Shit, don’t you love me? Come here and fuck me!’

I didn’t, I didn’t, I don’t! I don’t! I hate you!

(beat)

Why do you treat me like this? What did I do? How can I fix it? I thought that you loved me? Don’t you love me? I didn’t do that? I love you. I didn’t mean I hate you, it just slipped out. I love you. Where are you? I want to talk? Please talk to me? I love you. I ‘m sorry, it was my fault, I am sorry. Please forgive me, I was stupid. I love you. Please…

Lights blink off of RED and blink up on to BLUE.

BLUE is sitting on the bathmat on the floor with her left side facing the audience.

BLUE Stop. Everything stop.

(beat)

Everything has stopped. I can’t move, I can’t go anywhere. I am trapped here, right here. I can’t do anything about it. Help, why can’t I move? I try and try, and cry and cry. Nothing. Nothing is out there. Nothing is in here, in me. Only a stain lives in me now, but me is concealed …no, hiding …no, me is lost somewhere inside. I envy me; she gets to vanish from the ocean of tears. A blue sea that scours my body with hurt, and fills my lungs and eyes with salt.

(sighs heavily) (beat)

I don’t care anymore; I don’t have enough energy to care. I am drained, like the blue water in a bathtub. Slowly disappearing. There I go swirling, swirling down the drain. I sink into the blue ocean, and then I fall again as blue rain. Blue rain that gathers and grows, until all I can see is blue. Like a starless twilight, I go from blue to black.

BLUE turns to face the audience, and a large bruise over her right eye becomes visible.

BLUE I want to wash it off.

BLUE scrubs at the bruise on her face.

BLUE has a pair of scissors, and starts to snip little pieces of her blue shirt off to reveal black cloth underneath it. She continues to cut her shirt throughout the following monologue.

I want to be clean again; I need to wash this off. I have to get this reminder off, my token of stupidity. Everyone will see it and know exactly why it’s here. A perverse tag on a building. One that marks me as a stupid bitch, a whore, a stupid, useless, ugly girl.

(beat)

I need a hot bath, with lots of white bubbles. White soap, lots of white soap will clean this off. I wish I were white again, clean and white again. White clean flesh, so easily stained by the promises of red and the coldness of blue. Love and dismissal. Blood and bruises. Will the bubbles clean me, make me new again? White again? Can they, will they?

Or will there always be some filth hiding inside? Something dark that will contaminate everything ahead.

(beat)

How do I disinfect a part of my mind, without bleaching it all away?

BLUE takes one final snip out of her shirt, which reveals a tiny patch of white cloth underneath. A concentrated white spotlight flicks up onto the white patch of cloth. All lights fade and silence prevails.

CHARACTERS
GLADYS, co-host and mother
ALICE, host
CHLOE, Gladys’ daughter, eight years old

Act One, Scene One

A bed sits stage right in a dimly lit room. CHLOE lies with the covers pulled tight under her chin. Her face is illuminated. A loud, deep rumbling sound, like a giant footstep is heard.

CHLOE Hello?

The sound becomes a loud slavering noise, like snorting and chewing, followed by another rumbling step.

CHLOE Hello? Who’s there? Mom?… Mom?

A horrible roar resounds. Lights out.

Act One, Scene Two

Down centre stage, ALICE and GLADYS roll a large screen onto the stage and set up the AV equipment.

ALICE Farther, please. Just a little more. Closer. Okay, stop. Great.

ALICE points a clicker at a projector suspended from the ceiling. The words 2007-2012: Super Times, Super Marketing appear on the screen. ALICE and GLADYS stand on either side of the screen.

ALICE Welcome everyone to day one of the Spumco Super Projection Seminar for the years 2007 to 2012. I’m really excited about the fabulous opportunities and rich potential the next five years have in store for us. Your knowledge of global trends in these times will put you on top. Your knowledge is the tool that will help you seize what others can only dream of.

GLADYSYour success is our priority. We want you to win. To rise up above the crowd.

ALICE So let’s look at—

GLADYS and ALICE: THE FUTURE!

All capitalized dialogue said in unison by ALICE and GLADYS is accompanied by dramatic, synchronized hand motions.

GLADYS and ALICE BABY BOOMERS!

“Voodoo Chile” begins to play loudly as images of naked, dancing hippies appear on the screen, followed by psychedelic bar graphs.

GLADYSLord, I’m sick of ‘em.

ALICE Everyone’s sick of them, but not marketing to them is an ill-bred business blunder. Products marketed to people fifty and older will see a sales increase of thirty-five to fifty percent in the next twenty years.

GLADYS They’re like a pig moving through the python that is the marketplace and they’re nearing the ass end. What colours does
Spumco project?

ALICE Colours are gonna change a lot for the boomer market. The lense of your eye yellows as you age. Old people can’t distinguish pale blue from white. Combinations of bright colours cause eye fatigue in old people. Spumco sees a lot of oversized black and white text in the future. Avoid using subtle colour combinations.

GLADYS What about language?

ALICE I’m glad you asked me that. Forbidden words are “older” and “senior.” Say “mature” or “prime” instead. Sell “experience,” not “age.”

GLADYS So if I want to sell a wrinkle cream I should say, “A lotion for experienced skin?”

ALICE Right. Popular words are antioxidant, soy protein, essential fatty acid, phytoestrogen, and heart smart.

GLADYS So if I said, “Radiant age healthy experienced skin lotion with essential fatty acids,” that would be good boomer language.

ALICE Exactly. Boomers also want anti-establishment quality for their dollar. Don’t sell them a sandwich. Sell them an ecological, revolutionary, old-world artisan sandwich. They want to feel good about spending money.

GLADYS Doesn’t everyone feel good about spending money?

ALICE Yes, but everyone feels good about it for different reasons.

GLADYS So if I want to sell them a suit I should say, “A suit for the experienced businessperson, made by Italian artisan tailors from organic, fairly traded linen, cut for the body in its prime.

ALICE Exactly. All you need to know about marketing to baby boomers is that semantics is everything. Next topic!

GLADYS and ALICE MULTICULTURAL MARKETING!

Images of Freddy Prinze, mariachi bands, migrant workers, pastel Miami landscapes, are shown on screen accompanied by Cuban big-band cha-cha music.

GLADYS Who are these people, Alice?

ALICE The Hispanics! We’ve overlooked a key target marketing group forfar too long! Hispanics now constitute twenty-five percent of the American population. From 2000-2006, the purchasing power of Hispanics climbed more than sixty-three percent to 798 billion dollars. Our reports predict that by 2011 it will top 1.2 trillion dollars!

GLADYS Wow! So what do these Hispanic people want? What are their colours?

ALICE Hispanic colours vary from group to group. Cubans like pastels, saturated neons. Pink, blue, yellow. Puerto Ricans like earthy browns, yellows, and reds. Colour saturation is important with this ethnic group. People from hot climates want intense colour. Spumco sees lines of house paints, coloured appliances, andcosmetics tapping into this market.

GLADYS What about emotional appeal? What’s the Hispanic attitude?

ALICE This is beautiful. Just beautiful. Hispanics have significant attitudinal differences towards the media. If we understand this difference, we can open up this untapped reservoir.

GLADYS What kind of difference are we talking? I’m sure everyone here would like to know.

ALICE Allow me to demonstrate.

GLADYS changes posture, indicating acharacter change.

ALICE Jorge, what do you like about the magazines you read? How do you benefit from them?

GLADYS as JORGE My favourite magazines feature people who make me proud.

ALICE How about you, Luis?

GLADYS as LUIS My favourite magazines help me to see that there are good people in the world.

ALICE And you, Maria? What do you like about your magazines?

GLADYS as MARIA Some of the articles touch me deep down.

ALICE Thank-you.

GLADYS changes posture again.

GLADYSThese are unusual responses.

ALICE I know. Hispanics approach media with communal and emotional expectations.

GLADYS Nobody does that.

ALICE Spumco sees a lot of stories about do-gooders and cats that walk three hundred miles back to their homes. Spumco projects that stories about humble philanthropists and soup kitchens will sell big with Hispanics. Good teachers in bad neighbourhoods will also be big.

GLADYS This looks like a fun opportunity to make up some real tear jerkers!

ALICE You bet!

Cuban big-band cha-cha music begins to play loudly. ALICE and GLADYS begin to sing and dance.

GLADYS and ALICE Spum-CO will TEACH you to SELL to His-PA-nics / Their needs un-U-s’al / Strange AND so rare / Mar-ke-ters go into PA-nics / When they see how His-PA-nic hearts care / CHORUS: Phil-an- thro-py / and some / the-o-lo-gy / peo-ple / These are the keys / CHA-CHA-CHA! / I-den-ti-ty / u-sing / our co-lour key / ba-by / that’s what you need / CHA-CHA-CHA!

GLADYS and ALICE (speaking) Thank-you! See you tomorrow for day two of the Spumco Super projection Seminar!

Act One, Scene Three

GLADYS and ALICE exit stage left and reenter the dressing room up stage left. GLADYS changes her clothes and is in her underpants for part of this scene. ALICE remains clothed, standing and pacing around GLADYS.

ALICE Where were you this morning?

GLADYSI couldn’t make it. My daughter’s been having these night terrors—

ALICE You missed an important meeting.

GLADYSShe keeps seeing dinosaurs in her room.

ALICE We’ve changed the content of the upcoming seminars. You’ll have to use a teleprompter. I’ll give you the scripts, but you’ll still need the teleprompter.

GLADYSBig, toothy dinosaurs. I’m thinking of taking her to a psychiatrist. She doesn’t sleep.

ALICE Are you listening to me?

GLADYSI’m just concerned.

ALICE Well, get over it.

GLADYSPardon me?

ALICE Get. Over. It. I don’t have time for this. Kids worry. It’s normal. Nightmares are normal. Weren’t you afraid of anything when youwere little?

GLADYS Maybe. Sometimes.

ALICE Well you’re one of the fortunate ones, then. I was scared out of my mind half the time. But I turned out okay.

GLADYS(PAUSE) Right.

ALICE Sweety, you may think your shit don’t stink, but I know you better.

GLADYS What?

ALICE I don’t like your attitude.

GLADYS I’m doing my best. If I’ve offended you I—

ALICE Can it. I’ve got my eye on you. I want you to clean up your act.

GLADYS Clean up my act?

ALICE Don’t mock me.

GLADYS I’m not mocking you. I just don’t know what you’re talking about.

ALICE You’re stealing my fire. That line about the pig in a python was my line. I want you to stick to the script and start showing up on time.

GLADYS Okay. I’m sorry. It’s just hard sometimes. Having children is like having a second job. I’m really doing my best.

ALICE Give it a rest. People think having kids entitles them to some kind of special treatment. Be fruitful and multiply! You’re not serving Jehovah, honey. You serve me, and as far as I’m concerned, children are parasites breathing my air. Go live with the Mormons if you want to be special.

GLADYS is silent. She starts fiddling with the contents of her purse.

ALICE I don’t want to have to let you go and I’m sure you’d want a good reference if you did leave. So are we clear?

GLADYS (PAUSE) Yes.

ALICE No hard feelings, eh? (PAUSE) That whole Hispanic routine was a riot, eh?

GLADYS Yeah, that was…That was real fun.

ALICE Hey. Three construction workers are sitting on top of a high scaffolding eating their lunch. A Mexican, an Englishman, and a Polack. The Mexican opens his lunch and says, “Ai, Chihuahua! Another taco. If I get a taco in my lunch tomorrow I’m gonna
throw myself off this building.” The Englishman opens his lunch and says, “Blimey! Chips and egg! If I get more bleeding chips and egg in me lunch tomorrow, I’ll throw meself off this building!” The Polack opens his lunch and says, Perogies and sausage again! I throw myself off this building if I get perogies and sausage tomorrow!” The next day they all get the same lunch and they all commit suicide. At their funeral, the Mexican’s wife says, “I yi yi! If only he tell me. I would no have made him a taco!” The Englishman’s wife says, “Blimey! If the poor beggar ‘ad told me, I’d not ‘a’ made chips and egg!” The Polack’s wife says, “I no understand. He make his own lunch!”

ALICE breaks up laughing and then starts coughing. As she lets out a particularly violent cough, she emits an unnatural
sound, like a dinosaur’s roar.(sound effect)

GLADYS (laughing) That’s great Alice. You should be a comedian. I’ve gotta go. See you tomorrow.

ALICE Alright. Glad you’re on board.