Thursday, March 21, 2013

Scene I Wrote For Mid-Program Evaluation.

So, at my University, folks in the acting/directing and technical/stagecraft sides of things have a mid-program evaluation to see what, if any, help they need. Of course, being on the acting/directing side of things, I have to do a scene. My partner is female and VERY capable... SO I wrote this scene in case she might want to use it, and I'd like to get feedback from you guys. There is a LOT of language, so beware. If you are offended by language, I would suggest that you NOT read this. Just saying. Save yourself the time and save me having to hear that you lost respect for me because of my foul mind/mouth. That said, I may clean the language up a little (lol) and tweak a few things before it is actually performed, if ever. Enough talk, lol. Enjoy!

                                                                 Fix Or Repair Daily

          AUDREY sits on the stage, possibly tapping a foot
          or looking at her watch. She is waiting.
          FORD finally comes onstage. Tie askew, a little
          sweaty maybe, looking worse for the wear.
     Well? You do it?
     Yeah. Yeah I did it.
     He’s dead?
          beat. Ford just sits there, staring.
     Hallelujah! Oh happy fucking day! Feedom!
     Really? I’m glad I wasn’t married to you. He seemed
     like a nice guy. A real man. A real standup fella. It’s
     makin’ me question myself, you know. Making me rethink
     my vocation...
     You did me a service, big fella. You did the world
     good. Henry was okay, but nobody’ll miss him. Nobody at
     Nobody? What about the little girl that was plastered
     all over the walls? That he had a wallet full of
     pictures of? What about her? Is she nobody?
     She’s young, and strong like her mommy. She’ll forget
     the dead weight.
     "Dead weight". Fuck. That makes it even worse. So she
     IS his kid? He has a fucking child? I not only killed a
     man, shot him in the head as he said, "If it’s my time,
     bud, go ahead and shoot. The Lord gives and He takes
     away. I’m at peace. I hope you can be someday. Here’s
     my wallet. Don’t want you to get into the blood after I
     go down. It’ll help you get away. I hope you can start
     a new life at the expense of mine." Then he just smiled
     this fucking benign smile like he fucking loved me.
     Like he fucking understood. I not only killed that dude
     that seemed like he would have been the kind of guy
     that’d invite me over for a barbecue and hand me an ice
     cold beer as I walked into the fucking door and he
     steered me to a seat in front of the big screen or the
     pool or whatever the fuck I was into, no, I didn’t only
     destroy one of the last men left in this country, I
     destroyed a childhood you fucking selfish cunt. (It’s
     obvious AUDREY is about to lose her cool somehow at
     this point.) For what? Some alligator-tear havin bitch
     with a few grand and a smile. Fuck you. Truly fuck you
     in the...
     Listen you bleeding-heart Lifetime-movie-sounding
     bastard, you don’t know what I’ve went through. You
     don’t know how hard I have worked and for how long.
     Fucking keeping his clothes washed and his dinner
     cooked, fucking wiping that brats snot-nose while all
     he ever did was dote on her. "Thanks, Aud, you’re the
     best. Now I am going to go spend the rest of the
     fucking night playing castles and princesses with this
     little booger-farmer while you are left alone to watch
     HBO movies where men actually care if their women are
     satisfied and fantisize about some fat, sweaty piece of
     shit coming in here and shooting me in my faggot head."
     You don’t know what it’s like to go from being
     someone’s world to their second best because of some
     little parasite that he squirted into me and I birthed
     and nursed. Fuck him. May he fucking rot, and my
     daughter not grow up to be some idealistic little
     puss-bag who stands there and tells their killer how
     they’re gonna fucking pray for him or
     what-the-fuck-ever. No. No. Fuck you, you simple minded
     fuck. Fuck you for trying to make me feel bad about
     this. (Pulls out a fat envelope. Tosses it at Ford’s
     face.) Here you poor, sad, son-of-a-bitch. Go buy
     yourself a bottle, a burger, and a whore. That’s what
     your type wants right? That’s all you want. Or did you
     expect me to kiss your fucking feet? Did you expect me
     to cry and fucking bow before you like I owed you my
     life and to be sad for my poor dead fucking husband.
     "My heeeeero!" Well, this ain’t the movies, And I’m
     finally getting what I deserve, Chevy, or Buick, or
     whatever fucking car you’re named after. Grow a pair
     and the fuck up, then maybe you can graduate from hired
     gun goon to drug pusher you peice of filth. (AUDREY
     turns and walks away.)
          FORD pulls a pistol from his suit, points it at
          AUDREY’s retreating head.

     Hey. Look at me. I don’t shoot people in the back.
     (AUDREY turns. Looking at the gun, she freezes.)
     Think about what you are doing! Think about my baby! I
     have a child! Where will she go? What will she do?
     Everything I said was... (He pulls back the hammer
     which stops her cold.)
     Save your breath, bitch. Your baby’ll be perfectly
     happy with her daddy who loves her. (AUDREY begins to
     question him. He talks over her) She’ll remember her
     mommy fondly instead of as the bitch she was. And she
     will become a idealistic little puss-bag and hopefully
     make a difference in this world. As I have decided to.
     You’re right, you are getting what you deserve. (He
     fires one shot right into her head. He begins to walk
     offstage past her as she is dying.) By the way, my name 
     is Ford. Ford. Remember that. 

Thanks for reading! Jesus loves you and so do I. (Yes. I am a foul-mouthed "hypocrite" for typing His name after something with such LANGUAGE... *sigh* )

Monday, September 28, 2009

No Such Things

“But mummy, I’m afraid. Please leave the shade on!” said Tenotly.
“Now Tenotly, you know you are getting to be a big bruteling. You are getting too old to sleep with a day-shade! There’s nothing in the light that’s not in the dark!” said Tenotly’s mom.
“Except for angels and fairies and people.” Tenotly said with a shiver as he pulled the bedclothes up just under his eyes.
“For the last time there are no such things as people!” With a stern glance she slammed the ramshackle door to Tenotly’s cave.
The daylight from his roughly hewn window spilled in over him and he shuddered, pulled his cuddly troll toy “Baeem” closer and pulled the cover over his head. Just outside his window, he thought he heard laughter coming from the big house on the hill which was visible from his room, but he just cuddled in deeper and covered his ears.


“But mommy, I’m afraid. Please Leave the light on!” Said Timothy.
“Now Timothy, you are getting to be a big boy. You are too old to sleep with a night-light! There’s nothing in the dark that’s not in the light!” said Timothy’s mom.
“Except for demons and goblins and monsters!” Timothy said with a shiver as he pulled his bedclothes up just under his eyes.
“For the last time, there are no such things as monsters!” With a stern glance she slammed the whitewashed door to timothy’s room.
The moonlight from his high clean window spilled in over him and he shuddered, pulled his cuddly bear toy “Ben” closer and pulled the cover over his head. Just outside he thought he heard howling coming from the cave at the edge of the woods which was visible from his room, but he just cuddled in deeper and covered his ears.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

The Way of the World

Their eyes locked, the feelings flowed between them like a river after a rainstorm. She was so beautiful, he thought. Golden hair and sky blue eyes. An angel. He was so beautiful, she thought. Raven hair and blood red eyes. Once an angel. They started toward each other, smooth measured movements, anticipation thick in the air and almost palpable. Their love about to be made known.

Then it happened, like a floodgate had been opened, the ones in white shirts, button down and formal, black pants, sometimes ties. Men women and children poured into the small lobby, shoes making no sound on the white marble floor. They rushed in and stopped behind the golden haired woman, if you could call her that, echoing her slow measured movements. The lobby was large; they were not halfway to each other yet. Once again, as if some release was flipped, movement erupted. The ones in black, ragtag, no two alike, the only thing linking their garments was the consistent black, with the occasional blood red accent. Men women and children poured into the balconies and on top of the reception stand, the receptionist oblivious. The glass in the entrance doors exploded and more poured in, none of the business men scurrying by even noticed, still pushing open the ruined metal skeletons of the glass doors as they came and went. The ones in black paused, coiled, like snakes, or large cats on the prowl, crouched on the balconies or craw-walking in step with the red eyed raven haired man, if you could call him that, echoing his slow calculated movements.

For what seemed like an eternity they came on toward each other in their careful waltz. His red eyes flashed with desire, her blue-white eyes echoed and returned his sentiment. The ones in white organized and trooping behind the woman, rigid and militant. The ones in black crawling down the walls or shambling and gliding along behind the man, venomous and full of cat-calls and curses said in hissing voices under their breath. The white ones completely silent. After a time that cannot be measured in minutes, only in breaths or heart-ticks or the beats of humming bird wing, they were face to face. He lifted a hand to brush a tear from her face. Cacophony erupted. The ones in white flew past the woman, breaking around her and her lover like a rapid around a boulder. The black ones met them, completing the circle around the two. They stared at each other as the battle raged around them. He pulled a dark short sword from the air, it’s red blade gleaming with vicious intent. She pulled a large spear, white as driven snow, from the air around her, it’s tip gleaming gold and engulfed in flames. They both smiled. A single tear ran down the man’s face, her face was already tear stained. In one fluid motion she ran him through with the spear and he, throwing the sword into her chest, burst into flames. She staggered and fell face first into his ashes. What a beautiful dance, she thought as her life-force slipped away.

Their eyes locked, the feelings flowed between them like a river after a rainstorm. She was so beautiful, he thought. Golden hair and sky blue eyes. An angel. He was so beautiful, she thought. Raven hair and blood red eyes. Once an angel. They started toward each other smooth measured movements, anticipation thick in the air and almost palpable. Their love about to be made known.

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Sunday, September 6, 2009

No One Has Ever Read This One!

Except the wife and I of course!

First of Many

The black plastic bag limped and shuffled along the pavement like an old Moorish hobo. Wrinkled and caked in dust. I watched it limp past me as I rolled along the sidewalk, dropped off by some girl a half a block on and I was already running out of steam. I hit a crack in the sidewalk, faltered then fell flat of my face and wobbled a bit, then settled. I was quickly picked up by a smart looking man in a business suit and carried off toward downtown. My name is Thomas D. Nineteen-Ninety-Nine. So I’m told. Dressed all in silver, in God we Trust.

The smartly dressed young man passed me on to a street vendor, who gave him a hot dog. He said he had to be off to a meeting or something. I stayed with the street vendor for the rest of that day. He dropped me into a bag that smelled of vinyl and dumped me at the bank, along with some others. Some of them all done up in green and beige and other colours, others done in copper or gold, many done up in silver as I was. I spent the night there, next morning I was put in a tube packed face to tail with two others called Thomas that looked just like me, it was strange, but, after two days like that, our tube was forcibly busted open against a hard surface, and we were spilled into a compartment in a large drawer. We had a few meaningful conversations about where we had been and what we had done in our lives that day, some older, some younger than me, all with at least a couple good stories. There was an old man, solid and silver, who had been in this race since 1903. He had been in the collection of a boy in 1947, and had watched that boy grow old and silver himself, then slowly fade away. One day they wheeled him on a new bed out the door and he never came home. When found in his case by the man’s child, my friend from 1903 said he was spent buying a biscuit in a bake shop. Then it was back to the frantic life he had not experienced in over half a century. I spoke of my ten years on the earth, and how I longed to be in a case on a wall.

Later that day I was given to some young man who carried me off and dropped me nonchalantly in the console of his automobile. I stayed there for three days before I was joined by young Abe. All shiny and dressed in copper, his copper hair and eyes gleamed in the sunlight. We were there for a couple of weeks, having conversations that sometimes stretched into the night. I still think of him now and again, I suppose I was in love with him. As much as someone of my profession can allow themselves to be, seeing as how attachments are always fleeting to us.

At the end of those couple weeks, I was handed into a window to a young be-pimpled man, who dropped me into a compartment in yet another drawer. I was there for literally a minute, I didn’t even have time to strike up conversation, until I was passed on to an older gentleman who put me into the pocket of his jacket. I spent the night there amongst lint and used tissues. It was very lonely and the man lived alone.

The very next day was to be the first day of the rest of my life. The man pulled me out of his pocket and handed me to a smiling woman behind the counter who said “Thank you so very much, please fill out that card to tell us how we’ve done, and bring the coupon back in for your free item!” She then turned to a man who was standing close by holding myself, two fine looking young ones named George, and one small copper clad fellow that reminded me so much of young Abe, (This fellow’s name was Abe as well, but he was considerably older.) out on her palm and showed us to the man. She said, in very excited tones. “Our first sale!”

“You know what that means.” The man said holding up a wall-mounting case he brought from under the counter.

He neatly matted and framed us all together on a wall by the front door. On our case it said “Pray We Are First of Many!” and that is where I hang today, shining out at all who pass, and we were first of many. Many that are on their journeys now, may they find a home as I have...

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Friday, September 4, 2009

My New Blog for Short Stories!!!

Finally here, I am going to publish my short stories on this blog as I mentioned over in Geektrospective! I have wanted an outlet to get feedback and critiques but find most amateur fiction sites to be pretentious to say the least, so here's the first. Enjoy!

Charon's Day Off

{{uk|Харон перевозить душі через річку Стікс}}Image via Wikipedia

“Charon!” the tall thin figure of the cloaked man shouted.

A hunched dark figure in the ferry moored to the bank stirred, then spoke, “Bugger off, if you please, he’s having a break!”

Ankou shrugged and looked down at his charge, “Sorry about this,” he said “It’s never happened before, really a precedent. Hang on.” Ankou made a noise as to clear his throat, though his charge was convinced he had none, “Alright then, who in Hell are you?” Ankou’s horses tossed their heads and stamped, the old feeble one said to the young strong one, “This should be rich. I didn’t know the jobs in the afterlife came with fringe benefits. I wonder if they’ve started a union?”, Now raising his voice to the ferryman, “Oi! Have you lot started a union or sumfink? How much is dues!”

“Do shut up Past, you are scaring our young friend here. I am quite sorry. Now who in Hell are you boatman!”

“Well, as for in Hell, I am known as Naberius,” He turned then, showing the appearance of a man sized black crane with flaming red eyes, “but they don’t like me much anymore, not after that Johann Weir fellow and his goings on. “Valiant” who ever heard of a “valiant” demon. Anyhow, I had nothing better to do so I told Charon to have a bit of a sit down. You need passage? Acheron this way,” He pointed left, “Styx that way,” He pointed right, “Though I could have that backwards...”

“You shoulda written it down shouldn’t ya!” Yelled Present, the dumber but younger and sturdier looking of the horses.

“Yes, I suppose I should have just pulled my ball point out of my trouser pocked and scribbled it on a take out receipt I found in my wallet.” The demon retorted with a scoff.

“Why not, then.” Said Past, confused as usual.

“Shut up you half witted horse. When will Charon be getting back?” said Ankou.

“Can’t be more than a century or so, old fellow. He has charges wandering the shore that’ll want taking over.” Said Naberius.

“A century. Really.” The charge of Death finally spoke.

“Not that long really. Chin up. I’ll have to be along. I have a five o’clock drowning, a five fifteen suicide, and a tanker explosion at half past. It’s already five of, so I must be on my way.” Ankou said; locking his large wicked-looking scythe into place at the side of the coach his horses drew.

“Wait. Can’t this guy take me? I’ve been a good man. I’ve done many great things. I’m a philanthropist for Christ sakes!!! I am looking forward to my just reward! I’ve spent my whole life buying it!” said the Charge

“I suppose, if you want, though he’s not sure of the way. If you have been such a great man, just wait a bit, have a sit down, chat with some of the poor wayward souls on this side of the river. Trust me; you don’t want to be taken the wrong way. I’ve seen the ‘wrong way’.” It seemed Ankou’s dry bleach-white bones rattled in a small shudder.

“I don’t want to wait here in purgatory with people who aren’t sure of themselves, or the poor that couldn’t afford proper burial. I am OWED something!” Said the charge.

“Suit yourself... Neberius! Neberius, old chap would you care to take this man to his just reward?”

“I would do my damnedest,” Neberius snickered, “Damnedest, get it.” If purgatory had crickets they were very audible at that moment. “Ahem, I say, of course I don’t know the way at all, so it’s a bit of a crapshoot.”

“I don’t care. I want to get away from this wretched place! All the paupers milling about. Really!” said the charge with a raise of his nostril as he hurried to board the ferry, making a wide birth around any wayward soul that crossed within ten feet of his path.

“Alright then. You’ve taken your fate into your own hands. You’ve made your choice. May you find your reward.” Ankou said as he swung himself into his driver’s seat and grasped the reins that, by the by, looked as if they were made from catgut, or peoplegut... “Get on you brigands; we have to be in Surrey in two minutes.” With that he lashed the reins once and was gone before the leathery “crack” died away.

“Right then, left or right sir?” Said the demon known as Neberius.

“Right. For that’s what I’ve done by the poor wretched and unfortunate of the world. Bought them blankets, second had mind,” Neberius nodded as the Charge spoke, “Fed them, broth and bread, and given them places to stay, provided they work in my shops making lovely designer clothes. I’ve been a great man!”

“I’m sure you have as well,” said Neberius, “I’m sure you have.”

A while passed, and the boat began to slow in front of a set of gates. The gates seemed to be made from human bone and skulls, and the gatekeeper was large and naked with soot colored skin. His horrifically plump yet muscled body was furred from nose to crotch it seemed, and his large flaccid penis was only dwarfed by the spear he held, which seemed to be on fire.

“Your stop, I believe.” Said Neberius.

“Those gates don’t look very pearly, and he doesn’t look much like Saint Peter...” said the Charge.

“I suppose not.” Said the crane-demon “Well, please return your trays to their upright position, thank you for riding Afterlife Ferry Service. Enjoy your just rewards.”

As the Charge walked up to the gates, the keeper quickly and matter-of-factly impaled him upon the burning spear, said in a voice at once like a scream and a growl, “Welcome to your eternal Just Reward!” and just as nonchalantly tossed him over the gate.

As the form of the stork melted into the form of a man with an oil-stained girdle and long unkempt beard, Charon shrugged to the gatekeeper. “They always think they deserve heaven.”

“Except the ones who do.” The gate keeper replied as he wiped his spearhead on the brimstone at his feet.

Written By (myself) W.C. Banning on Friday, 17th of July, 2009, 5:37:58 PM

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