One word. One stupid fucking word. One magical word. One tormenting word.
One word to stop your world as it rotates, to pause your clock as it ticks, to hold your breath as you exhale.
Tonight, the one word for me was: talentless. One single word with so much bitter poison attached to it that inside I fell the instant its sour sting pierced me. Talentless. The lack of a marked innate ability; example: the lack of an ability for artistic accomplishment. I never believed this word applied to myself, until tonight.
Tonight, I sit here at my computer, typing away my feelings, and thinking... I suck. I suck at writing, I suck at singing, dancing, drawing, feeling, thinking, breathing. I have become that petty preteen girl who feels the need to slit her wrists while she cries to an unrequited lover that the world isn't fair.
But I can't let anybody do this to me. I can't let someone take away my power. I refuse to believe that I am talentless. I have come too far. I have to tell that preteen girl that she's awesome now, that she's smarter and stronger. That nobody can tell her who she is. That she's going to make it because she has the drive. Because she has the heart when others shy away from their true feelings. Because she's not afraid, not anymore.
One word. One word can make you think, can make you smile, can make you die. There are hundreds of possible reactions to one word. Though you can't choose what is said to you, you can choose the effect it will have on you.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Time To Fly.
Time is critical. Time is all we have. Time is all we can hope for.
Time is what we plan on, what we depend on, what we live on.
But don't forget to take a moment to pause, forget that time exists.
Though you can't stop it from passing, you can remember that your life is always happening.
But if you never stop planning for what lies ahead, you'll never be living it.
Stop to smell the daisies. Find the beauty in life. Take a moment to just breathe.
Time is what we plan on, what we depend on, what we live on.
But don't forget to take a moment to pause, forget that time exists.
Though you can't stop it from passing, you can remember that your life is always happening.
But if you never stop planning for what lies ahead, you'll never be living it.
Stop to smell the daisies. Find the beauty in life. Take a moment to just breathe.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Is love alive?
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon,
It rolls in from the sea
My voice; a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light,
To carry you to me.
Is love alive?
Is love alive? Can you ask yourself that question without feeling some sort of emotion?
Love makes the world go round, all you need is love, love is just a game, love knows no boundaries, seasons of love, all is fair in love in war, love lifts us up where we belong, can you feel the love tonight, love is a battlefield, this ain't a love song, best of my love, you can't hurry love, endless love, send her my love, where is the love, I just called to say I love you, goodbye love.
There are hundreds of sung melodies about this magical force we call love. Nobody really has a clear definition as to what it is, and some say, it doesn't exist.
Is love alive? If love isn't alive, then damn it, we are alive for love. It draws you in, overcomes your soul, and your every thought begins to consist of idiotic fantasy. Love is magic, love is pure, love is just. Yet love is spiteful, love is vindictive, love is hatred. Love can be innocent and brilliant, or sinful and corrupt. Love takes all forms, the pleasant and the malevolent, and takes many, if not all, people.
Love isn't a drug. It's a sickness; a virus or a bacterial infection, sometimes it's as serious as a brain tumor.
Instead of a dependent person being called an addict, I call them a victim. The victim never feels good enough, but they believe that if their partner will do anything for them in return, they will be content. However the deeper the victim falls, the more distant their partner becomes.
Is love alive? When love is right, it seems to thrive all on it's own. You can't ignore it when it's there. You may try, you may be thousands of miles apart and logically thinking of a million plus one reasons why you shouldn't love that person, but the love between you will not end. It will not die.
Love is alive. Though our cynical sides want to believe it's just a myth, when you discover it, you realize that it's a completely separate entity from yourself. Love is alive. It's what we dream of, what we yearn for, what our emotions make sense out of even when we can't comprehend it ourselves. Love is alive. And we are who we are because we can love. Because we can feel compassion when it doesn't make sense to. Because we can feel more strongly for another person than ourselves.
We live by loving and we live to someday feel loved.
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
This is my winter song to you.
The storm is coming soon,
It rolls in from the sea
My voice; a beacon in the night.
My words will be your light,
To carry you to me.
Is love alive?
Is love alive? Can you ask yourself that question without feeling some sort of emotion?
Love makes the world go round, all you need is love, love is just a game, love knows no boundaries, seasons of love, all is fair in love in war, love lifts us up where we belong, can you feel the love tonight, love is a battlefield, this ain't a love song, best of my love, you can't hurry love, endless love, send her my love, where is the love, I just called to say I love you, goodbye love.
There are hundreds of sung melodies about this magical force we call love. Nobody really has a clear definition as to what it is, and some say, it doesn't exist.
Is love alive? If love isn't alive, then damn it, we are alive for love. It draws you in, overcomes your soul, and your every thought begins to consist of idiotic fantasy. Love is magic, love is pure, love is just. Yet love is spiteful, love is vindictive, love is hatred. Love can be innocent and brilliant, or sinful and corrupt. Love takes all forms, the pleasant and the malevolent, and takes many, if not all, people.
Love isn't a drug. It's a sickness; a virus or a bacterial infection, sometimes it's as serious as a brain tumor.
Instead of a dependent person being called an addict, I call them a victim. The victim never feels good enough, but they believe that if their partner will do anything for them in return, they will be content. However the deeper the victim falls, the more distant their partner becomes.
Is love alive? When love is right, it seems to thrive all on it's own. You can't ignore it when it's there. You may try, you may be thousands of miles apart and logically thinking of a million plus one reasons why you shouldn't love that person, but the love between you will not end. It will not die.
Love is alive. Though our cynical sides want to believe it's just a myth, when you discover it, you realize that it's a completely separate entity from yourself. Love is alive. It's what we dream of, what we yearn for, what our emotions make sense out of even when we can't comprehend it ourselves. Love is alive. And we are who we are because we can love. Because we can feel compassion when it doesn't make sense to. Because we can feel more strongly for another person than ourselves.
We live by loving and we live to someday feel loved.
Shades of Gray.
When you first meet love, you find it in a gift-wrapped box. You're distracted by the pretty bow on the outside that glitters every time you look at it just right. But at some point, you're ready to take off that bow and pull apart the paper that keeps the present inside tightly bounded and out of sight. All the packaging has been ripped apart and cast aside, and what's left is the simple box. You pull of the lid, and in the bottom of the box, there it is. There is the present you've been awaiting, what you've been hoping for. Initial surprise and happiness overcome you as you play with your new present, show it to others and declare proudly that you must have done something amazing to deserve such a gift. You were so excited to grab the gift that you didn't notice the layers of tissue paper you scattered around the room to get to it. Ordinary paper in shades of gray.
Love comes wrapped in grays. Black and white have no room to fit, to prosper, to amount to anything other than bullshit and simplicity. Black and white covers the easy way out. It's the grays, the mixtures of these two opposite shades, that keep love thriving. But if you ignore them, if you just throw away every shade of gray, you will miss all that went into this gift. You will miss everything that made it worthwhile, and everything that continues to make it worthwhile.
Your mom throws the ripped up wrapping paper in the garbage, and saves the pretty bow for another occasion. The tissue paper is stuffed back into the original box your gift came in, and sits in your bedroom closet. After many experiences of happiness and despair with love, you decide eventually that this gift must be exchanged. It had an expiration date from the start, and though you once believed otherwise, it proved to be the same as all the other presents you have received. The box is retrieved and the gift is forced back inside, the tissue paper entangled over it.
I wonder if you never ignored the tissue paper. If you took this extra seemingly pointless packaging and paid it attention, what would've been different? The grays may seem like parts you could make do without, but who are we without our seemingly pointless packaging? Who are we without our past, our beliefs, our prayers? Black and white can never fit there, black and white aren't meant to fit there.
Love comes wrapped in grays. Black and white have no room to fit, to prosper, to amount to anything other than bullshit and simplicity. Black and white covers the easy way out. It's the grays, the mixtures of these two opposite shades, that keep love thriving. But if you ignore them, if you just throw away every shade of gray, you will miss all that went into this gift. You will miss everything that made it worthwhile, and everything that continues to make it worthwhile.
Your mom throws the ripped up wrapping paper in the garbage, and saves the pretty bow for another occasion. The tissue paper is stuffed back into the original box your gift came in, and sits in your bedroom closet. After many experiences of happiness and despair with love, you decide eventually that this gift must be exchanged. It had an expiration date from the start, and though you once believed otherwise, it proved to be the same as all the other presents you have received. The box is retrieved and the gift is forced back inside, the tissue paper entangled over it.
I wonder if you never ignored the tissue paper. If you took this extra seemingly pointless packaging and paid it attention, what would've been different? The grays may seem like parts you could make do without, but who are we without our seemingly pointless packaging? Who are we without our past, our beliefs, our prayers? Black and white can never fit there, black and white aren't meant to fit there.
I prove that I am part of the whole.
What classifies right and wrong? Justice and injustice? There is no such thing as either. We made it exist. Somehow subjective thinking turned into objective rules.
Why isn't it okay to hate your life? To carry on in mindless routine grasping onto the little hope you retain that tomorrow will somehow be a brighter day? Why isn't it okay to hate someone else's life? To wish away their presence through various forms of torture hoping that they never see that brighter day? Let people throw their bleeding heart on a tray and allow it to thrive on false pretenses. Let people destroy life where they see no reason for it's existence. Let people cause extreme suffering where compassion was lost. Whether they do it to themselves or to others, let people be.
I am alone and afraid.
I wonder if it's really worth it to risk everything for someone you love.
I hear my higher consciousness, allowing me to take a step back and breathe.
I see blue skies and open fields.
I want to see beyond that.
I am alone and afraid.
I pretend that death doesn't phase me, love is easy, and no obstacle is too extreme.
I feel that I don't have enough power.
I touch the sky and it turns to gray.
I worry that it's all my fault.
I cry because I can't escape this realm of being.
I am alone and afraid.
I understand sometimes the sky is dark.
I say that night will unfold, storms with gather, and the sun will shine again.
I dream of what's beyond the clouds.
I try to see the stars.
I hope that they will welcome me.
I am alone and afraid.
Why isn't it okay to hate your life? To carry on in mindless routine grasping onto the little hope you retain that tomorrow will somehow be a brighter day? Why isn't it okay to hate someone else's life? To wish away their presence through various forms of torture hoping that they never see that brighter day? Let people throw their bleeding heart on a tray and allow it to thrive on false pretenses. Let people destroy life where they see no reason for it's existence. Let people cause extreme suffering where compassion was lost. Whether they do it to themselves or to others, let people be.
I am alone and afraid.
I wonder if it's really worth it to risk everything for someone you love.
I hear my higher consciousness, allowing me to take a step back and breathe.
I see blue skies and open fields.
I want to see beyond that.
I am alone and afraid.
I pretend that death doesn't phase me, love is easy, and no obstacle is too extreme.
I feel that I don't have enough power.
I touch the sky and it turns to gray.
I worry that it's all my fault.
I cry because I can't escape this realm of being.
I am alone and afraid.
I understand sometimes the sky is dark.
I say that night will unfold, storms with gather, and the sun will shine again.
I dream of what's beyond the clouds.
I try to see the stars.
I hope that they will welcome me.
I am alone and afraid.
I stand for the power to change.
The greatest achievement is to fully understand and know yourself.
The greatest worth is possessing quality relationships with others.
The greatest quality is empathy.
The greatest precept is to respect all human beings.
The greatest medicine is clearing the mind.
The greatest action is to follow your own beliefs, no matter what you face.
The greatest magic is love.
The greatest generosity is sacrificing personal benefits for the benefit of another.
The greatest goodness is peace.
The greatest patience is swallowing one's own pride.
The greatest efforts are understanding and compassion.
The greatest meditation is having an open mind and an open heart.
The greatest wisdom is acceptance of all events.
The greatest worth is possessing quality relationships with others.
The greatest quality is empathy.
The greatest precept is to respect all human beings.
The greatest medicine is clearing the mind.
The greatest action is to follow your own beliefs, no matter what you face.
The greatest magic is love.
The greatest generosity is sacrificing personal benefits for the benefit of another.
The greatest goodness is peace.
The greatest patience is swallowing one's own pride.
The greatest efforts are understanding and compassion.
The greatest meditation is having an open mind and an open heart.
The greatest wisdom is acceptance of all events.
"The day you realize there's not enough time because you want to live forever"
Think of the biggest day of your life. Did you plan it or did this day find you?
The biggest day of my life. Honestly, I don’t think I could declare such a day. But I know that when I experienced it, I didn’t know it until I was surrounded by it. First kisses, laughs, dreams coming true, and heartbreaks... aren’t planned. They happen by chance. And whether it was fate or our own choices that led to that moment, they still caught us by surprise.
We were receiving cat calls when I realized everything would be okay as long as I had my sister. I was doing a lab on mitosis when I first fell in love. I was heartbroken when I found a diary and pen. I was playing basketball when my observable world fell apart. I was finding props for a school play when I received a kiss that turned my life upside down. I was cursing circumstances when I met my best friend. I was playing rock band when I first heard that a completely closed-off person loved me back. I was watching a ridiculous movie when I made a horrible decision. I was dancing when I discovered he meant more to me than I could possibly say.
And through a series of unexpected events, I've learned my biggest lessons, recovered from my biggest mistakes, and discovered my biggest loves. No, I can't tell you the biggest day of my life. It may have happened yesterday, it could still happen today, and it just might happen tomorrow.
The biggest day of my life. Honestly, I don’t think I could declare such a day. But I know that when I experienced it, I didn’t know it until I was surrounded by it. First kisses, laughs, dreams coming true, and heartbreaks... aren’t planned. They happen by chance. And whether it was fate or our own choices that led to that moment, they still caught us by surprise.
We were receiving cat calls when I realized everything would be okay as long as I had my sister. I was doing a lab on mitosis when I first fell in love. I was heartbroken when I found a diary and pen. I was playing basketball when my observable world fell apart. I was finding props for a school play when I received a kiss that turned my life upside down. I was cursing circumstances when I met my best friend. I was playing rock band when I first heard that a completely closed-off person loved me back. I was watching a ridiculous movie when I made a horrible decision. I was dancing when I discovered he meant more to me than I could possibly say.
And through a series of unexpected events, I've learned my biggest lessons, recovered from my biggest mistakes, and discovered my biggest loves. No, I can't tell you the biggest day of my life. It may have happened yesterday, it could still happen today, and it just might happen tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Midnight and I feel I should write.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
Somehow, our hearts got confused.
They skipped a beat, and a necessary step.
No easy introduction, but jumping in head first.
We listened to temptation rather than words.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
We talked for hours, seemingly unaware of the way time moved around us.
We stood still.
A laugh received meaning, a stare lasted longer.
And we fell. Deeper and deeper.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
Thoughts came pouring out, secrets revealed.
We exchanged unspoken tales dying to be told.
I felt myself torn, unable to express how one person could make me feel worth it.
Especially when that one person wasn't supposed to.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
I played with your emotions, and led you far down this phony path.
I hated myself for giving you only half.
(That unintentionally rhymed)
You were always there, you were always kind.
You shone with a beauty that I couldn’t comprehend.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
You scared me to death, the way you looked at me.
And I found myself staring right back, the same feeling said in my eyes.
We didn’t change, our friendship grew stronger.
I leaned on you for support, and needed your encouragement.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
I fell in love with you.
But I didn’t get to know you the right way.
It’s not wrong for us to be with each other.
It’s difficult to go about this when we did it all backwards.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
We know each other in one light only.
We have yet to discover what it’s like to be usual.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I kiss you the way I do, because of how we are unique.
And although…
I don’t know you.
And you don’t know me…
We know everything.
You don’t know me.
Somehow, our hearts got confused.
They skipped a beat, and a necessary step.
No easy introduction, but jumping in head first.
We listened to temptation rather than words.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
We talked for hours, seemingly unaware of the way time moved around us.
We stood still.
A laugh received meaning, a stare lasted longer.
And we fell. Deeper and deeper.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
Thoughts came pouring out, secrets revealed.
We exchanged unspoken tales dying to be told.
I felt myself torn, unable to express how one person could make me feel worth it.
Especially when that one person wasn't supposed to.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
I played with your emotions, and led you far down this phony path.
I hated myself for giving you only half.
(That unintentionally rhymed)
You were always there, you were always kind.
You shone with a beauty that I couldn’t comprehend.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
You scared me to death, the way you looked at me.
And I found myself staring right back, the same feeling said in my eyes.
We didn’t change, our friendship grew stronger.
I leaned on you for support, and needed your encouragement.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
I fell in love with you.
But I didn’t get to know you the right way.
It’s not wrong for us to be with each other.
It’s difficult to go about this when we did it all backwards.
I don’t know you.
You don’t know me.
We know each other in one light only.
We have yet to discover what it’s like to be usual.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I kiss you the way I do, because of how we are unique.
And although…
I don’t know you.
And you don’t know me…
We know everything.
Voice.
I have no voice
and I cannot speak.
Nobody listens
to the weak.
I have no voice,
no audible sound.
I can't be saved;
I've hit the ground.
I would have a voice
If I thought I could
I have much to tell
But I don’t think I should
I want a voice.
I want to share my soul.
I want to sing my song
and know it’s beautiful
I want a voice.
I want to stand tall.
I want to know that I
can speak after all.
I have no voice,
not a word to say.
My act of cowardice
is my play.
I have no voice,
just fears to be.
Caged in silence,
I long to be free.
I would have a voice
If they told me I could
I have much to tell
But they don’t think I should
I want a voice.
I want to share my soul.
I want to sing my song
and know it’s beautiful
I want a voice.
I want to stand tall.
I want to know that I
can speak after all.
I have no voice,
I can't be me.
Worthless and unwanted,
I cry, desperately.
But I have no voice.
This can't be said.
Why try to live
If I'm already dead?
I try to have a voice,
I can't even scream.
And I keep falling
away from my dream.
I need a voice.
I need to share my soul.
I need to sing my song
and know it’s beautiful.
I need a voice.
I need to stand tall.
I need to know that I
can speak after all.
This is it now,
I have no voice.
If I did this,
No one would know…
It was my choice.
Then I start to sing,
with my little faith.
Feeling the melody,
I see my dream
is too real to erase.
Something in me changes,
I try to speak.
A stifled word
is finally released.
And I don’t feel so weak.
My perspective is changed,
I can be free
This person kept in waiting,
Was silenced by me
I have a voice.
I have to share my soul.
I have to sing my song
Because I know it’s beautiful.
I have a voice.
I have to stand tall.
I finally know that I can speak after all.
and I cannot speak.
Nobody listens
to the weak.
I have no voice,
no audible sound.
I can't be saved;
I've hit the ground.
I would have a voice
If I thought I could
I have much to tell
But I don’t think I should
I want a voice.
I want to share my soul.
I want to sing my song
and know it’s beautiful
I want a voice.
I want to stand tall.
I want to know that I
can speak after all.
I have no voice,
not a word to say.
My act of cowardice
is my play.
I have no voice,
just fears to be.
Caged in silence,
I long to be free.
I would have a voice
If they told me I could
I have much to tell
But they don’t think I should
I want a voice.
I want to share my soul.
I want to sing my song
and know it’s beautiful
I want a voice.
I want to stand tall.
I want to know that I
can speak after all.
I have no voice,
I can't be me.
Worthless and unwanted,
I cry, desperately.
But I have no voice.
This can't be said.
Why try to live
If I'm already dead?
I try to have a voice,
I can't even scream.
And I keep falling
away from my dream.
I need a voice.
I need to share my soul.
I need to sing my song
and know it’s beautiful.
I need a voice.
I need to stand tall.
I need to know that I
can speak after all.
This is it now,
I have no voice.
If I did this,
No one would know…
It was my choice.
Then I start to sing,
with my little faith.
Feeling the melody,
I see my dream
is too real to erase.
Something in me changes,
I try to speak.
A stifled word
is finally released.
And I don’t feel so weak.
My perspective is changed,
I can be free
This person kept in waiting,
Was silenced by me
I have a voice.
I have to share my soul.
I have to sing my song
Because I know it’s beautiful.
I have a voice.
I have to stand tall.
I finally know that I can speak after all.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Sucky.
Why do you like me?
You scowl at my jokes.
You cringe at my intelligence.
You tune out my beliefs.
You obsess over my mistakes.
Why do I like you?
I laugh at your jokes.
I admire your intelligence.
I listen to your beliefs.
I forget your mistakes.
The greatest complication of love is not being able to read minds. Any word could be a lie, and you have to put enough trust in another person to believe that they would never say anything but the truth.
Hearts change, and people change. Admitting that to yourself hurts, but it's needed. Sometimes I wish he would stop being what I don't like, to go back to the way he was, but... that's not fair to him. No one should ever tell you to be something else. Accepting someone as they are means that you love them. Wanting something different means... well... it just isn't working anymore.
You scowl at my jokes.
You cringe at my intelligence.
You tune out my beliefs.
You obsess over my mistakes.
Why do I like you?
I laugh at your jokes.
I admire your intelligence.
I listen to your beliefs.
I forget your mistakes.
The greatest complication of love is not being able to read minds. Any word could be a lie, and you have to put enough trust in another person to believe that they would never say anything but the truth.
Hearts change, and people change. Admitting that to yourself hurts, but it's needed. Sometimes I wish he would stop being what I don't like, to go back to the way he was, but... that's not fair to him. No one should ever tell you to be something else. Accepting someone as they are means that you love them. Wanting something different means... well... it just isn't working anymore.
Pen Name Update.
My friends have changed.
My fears have changed.
My dreams have changed.
My love has changed.
My hate has changed.
I have changed.
Brittany.
This one name, this non-unique label for myself, used to be what defined me.
I limited myself to being Brittany, only Brittany, always Brittany.
Brittany was just a girl.
Brittany was afraid of the dark.
Brittany loved to smile.
Brittany sought out adventure.
Brittany changed location.
Brittany hated new people.
Brittany hated her family.
Brittany hated to smile.
Brittany hated herself.
Brittany changed her perspective.
Brittany went after more.
Brittany fell in love.
Brittany created adventures.
Brittany laughed and smiled.
Brittany grew and shone.
Brittany never once called herself just a girl. Brittany never once called herself by name. Rather, she saw herself as someone who stood for seizing opportunity, loving life, and feeling free from burdens.
Brittany decided names meant nothing, and so do people unless they do something to change it.
I don't need an awesome pen name because I am not defined by my title.
My fears have changed.
My dreams have changed.
My love has changed.
My hate has changed.
I have changed.
Brittany.
This one name, this non-unique label for myself, used to be what defined me.
I limited myself to being Brittany, only Brittany, always Brittany.
Brittany was just a girl.
Brittany was afraid of the dark.
Brittany loved to smile.
Brittany sought out adventure.
Brittany changed location.
Brittany hated new people.
Brittany hated her family.
Brittany hated to smile.
Brittany hated herself.
Brittany changed her perspective.
Brittany went after more.
Brittany fell in love.
Brittany created adventures.
Brittany laughed and smiled.
Brittany grew and shone.
Brittany never once called herself just a girl. Brittany never once called herself by name. Rather, she saw herself as someone who stood for seizing opportunity, loving life, and feeling free from burdens.
Brittany decided names meant nothing, and so do people unless they do something to change it.
I don't need an awesome pen name because I am not defined by my title.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Sometimes.
Sometimes I dream I’m flying
Not even the wind can catch me
And that’s when I’m free
In a place all my own
Lost in weightlessness and fantasy
I wake up afraid and alone
And though the solitude is the same
Here it is a cold, empty cage
Discouraging my sense of self
And I’d love to blame my thoughts
However I know this panic is not from my rage
Rather, from the helpless soul
Scared one night, needing one to hold
But someone went too far, someone destroyed that innocence
And over and over again…
There were new someones.
Sometimes I dream I’m dying
Not even my love can save me
And that’s when I’m free
In a place all my own
Lost in conclusion and fantasy
I wake up afraid and alone
And though the solitude is the same
Here it is a cold, empty cage
Discouraging my hate and doubt
And I’d love to blame my faith
However I know hope is not keeping me awake
Rather, from the helpless soul
With too much fear to let go
But someone went too far, someone destroyed uncertainty
And over and over again…
There were new someones.
Sometimes I do not dream
I’m awake, afraid and alone
This solitude I cannot bear
In an iron-barred cage all my own
Stifling room to grow
And I’d love to blame this sullen place
However I know that is not what is haunting me
Rather, the helpless soul
That has no where else to go
But someone went too far, someone made me believe
And over and over again…
There were new someones.
Sometimes, there are no more words.
Not even the wind can catch me
And that’s when I’m free
In a place all my own
Lost in weightlessness and fantasy
I wake up afraid and alone
And though the solitude is the same
Here it is a cold, empty cage
Discouraging my sense of self
And I’d love to blame my thoughts
However I know this panic is not from my rage
Rather, from the helpless soul
Scared one night, needing one to hold
But someone went too far, someone destroyed that innocence
And over and over again…
There were new someones.
Sometimes I dream I’m dying
Not even my love can save me
And that’s when I’m free
In a place all my own
Lost in conclusion and fantasy
I wake up afraid and alone
And though the solitude is the same
Here it is a cold, empty cage
Discouraging my hate and doubt
And I’d love to blame my faith
However I know hope is not keeping me awake
Rather, from the helpless soul
With too much fear to let go
But someone went too far, someone destroyed uncertainty
And over and over again…
There were new someones.
Sometimes I do not dream
I’m awake, afraid and alone
This solitude I cannot bear
In an iron-barred cage all my own
Stifling room to grow
And I’d love to blame this sullen place
However I know that is not what is haunting me
Rather, the helpless soul
That has no where else to go
But someone went too far, someone made me believe
And over and over again…
There were new someones.
Sometimes, there are no more words.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Pen name?
I have decided that the name "Brittany" is overused and too associated with once-adored pop divas. I must find a neat-o pen name to write under so that I can actually feel at least slightly unique. The quest is on!
Sunsets and Roma Roma-ma
After that summer, nothing felt the same. We always wondered what had happened, what had occurred that caused our great shift. Maybe it was that heavy rain that drowned out our voices with its roaring splats on the pavement; that made us feel as if our secrets were washed away along with the dirt on the concrete… I’ll never know for sure, and I’ll always wonder. But I will never forget that next day, when I had expected the change to come from our everyday lives, moving on to a new place, a new start… But it wasn’t from that. I felt the change within me, and in her. We were no longer the same, there was no turning back. Our meaning faded completely in that one night, the night before our worlds as we know them now would end. And with a last look that next morning as we found ourselves waking up together, I began to feel my heartache.
Goodbyes can be sudden and rushed, but they are always needed. People walk into our lives from all different ends of the world, changing us and shaping us until we find a permanent self. Typically we forget all the casual run-ins of friends and acquaintances throughout our lives as we grow older, but sometimes a single moment can stay imprinted in your memory forever. It is in these moments, you see yourself being defined. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, that same person who experienced these moments with you is sitting quietly to themselves with a slight smile on their face, recalling the memories they have of you instilled in their heart.
Goodbyes can be sudden and rushed, but they are always needed. People walk into our lives from all different ends of the world, changing us and shaping us until we find a permanent self. Typically we forget all the casual run-ins of friends and acquaintances throughout our lives as we grow older, but sometimes a single moment can stay imprinted in your memory forever. It is in these moments, you see yourself being defined. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, that same person who experienced these moments with you is sitting quietly to themselves with a slight smile on their face, recalling the memories they have of you instilled in their heart.
Mrow.
Take me away,
For I must escape
The reality of who
I really am without you.
My place is as a shadow,
My fear is that I will show.
Without my wish,
I cannot exist.
I long to be a secret
Hidden in the midst of it.
Dark is a shade I know;
I do not expect you to go.
Loneliness is a companion
And my misery welcomes the friend.
Tears are my appalling comfort,
Along with your old, wrinkled shirt.
Remember that night?
The stars illuminated the sky with light,
And the ground was wet
Where the rain and grass met.
A severed heart unable to heal,
Nothing even seemed to be real.
I have become nothing now,
And, to my own surprise, I don’t know how
We were led here
No more worries about mere
Nonsensical fantasies that cause pain
Or that night with the stars and the rain.
For I must escape
The reality of who
I really am without you.
My place is as a shadow,
My fear is that I will show.
Without my wish,
I cannot exist.
I long to be a secret
Hidden in the midst of it.
Dark is a shade I know;
I do not expect you to go.
Loneliness is a companion
And my misery welcomes the friend.
Tears are my appalling comfort,
Along with your old, wrinkled shirt.
Remember that night?
The stars illuminated the sky with light,
And the ground was wet
Where the rain and grass met.
A severed heart unable to heal,
Nothing even seemed to be real.
I have become nothing now,
And, to my own surprise, I don’t know how
We were led here
No more worries about mere
Nonsensical fantasies that cause pain
Or that night with the stars and the rain.
Write an interesting piece about peanut butter? Challenge accepted. I warn you: this is both odd and stupid.
MEET ME AT THE PIGGLY WIGGLY
SCENE ONE:
Setting:
This scene is set in a 3 bedroom ranch-styled home in Middleton, WI, currently in the living room and kitchen.
Time:
July 2009, 2:30 pm
Character Description:
Joey is a strange, obnoxious, nerdy, short and stout boy with bright red hair and many freckles. He is 15 years old and has a best friend, Matt. Matt is 15 as well, however he is shy, nice, intelligent, tall, lean, and normally has brilliantly dark hair. There is also an aggravated jar of peanut butter.
(Matt and Joey are playing videogames in Matt’s living room)
Matt: Hey, I’m getting kind of hungry. Want anything from the kitchen?
Joey: Nah, I just want pizza. Let’s go! I’m thinking Caesars cuz I don’t got a lot of cash…
Matt: Ugh, no. I’m going to make myself a peanut butter sandwich.
Joey: (Say PB not Peanut butter) Another pb sandwich? Seriously, dude. Haven’t you had one everyday for every meal this whole summer? That’s sick.
Matt: There’s just something about this new brand of peanut butter my Mom got from the Piggly Wiggly. (Matt is staring up at the ceiling like he’s looking to the Gods) I crave it all the time. Sometimes, it’s the only thing I can think about. It’s kept me up nights… thinking about that luscious, thick, but creamy peanut butter. I imagine the feeling of it getting stuck on the roof of my mouth... how great it is to go in for that second bite…
Joey: Dude. You gotta get out more… I’m going to walk to Little Caesars... I really don’t think it’s right for me to be here while you are having a love affair with a peanut butter sandwich.
Matt: Whatever, I’ll see ya later, man.
Joey: (While walking out) You know you smell like rotten peanut butter… And you even kinda look like the stuff…
Matt: What?!
Joey: Ya... just look at your hair. It used to be that dark brown color and now it’s all light since you’ve been going psycho for it. And you’re kind of tan even though you haven’t been outside once this summer.
Matt: I think you’re the one who is psycho right now.
Joey: Okay, man…. But when all the ladies see you on the first day of school, they’ll give up their life long crushes and come to Big Papa here… Then you’ll be sorry you didn’t have pizza with me.
(Joey walks out the door. Matt is alone.)
Matt: (To the tune of peanut butter jelly time, singing shout) Peanut butter sandwich time, it’s peanut butter sandwich time!
(Matt gets out bread, butter knife, and of course the peanut butter. Opens the jar and is about to dip in the knife in when the jar of peanut butter attacks and he falls back behind the table… We hear his struggles and the horrendous growl of the peanut butter)
(Joey arrives back soon after, Matt is gone.)
Joey: (said in a female seductive-like voice) Matty matt… Baby, it’s me, your peanut butter sandwich… Oh I’ve been waiting for you all day long. Matty…..?
(Discovers a box sitting on top of the table with an empty jar of peanut butter on top of it. He grabs the jar and throws it off the top. He opens the box and pulls out a card and a butter knife with chunky bits of peanut butter on the end.)
Joey: (reading the card) Meet me at the Piggly Wiggly at midnight. Aisle 7. What the heck? Matt, this is stupid. You aren’t funny…. (Looks around the room and seems to get scared… and then speaks very quietly and politely but with a lot of emotion) I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said all the ladies would want me. You know, it’s difficult, trust me I know. But, buddy, you can get through it. Not everybody is meant to be the bird... some guys have to be the wings… Matty…
(LOUD GROWL)
Joey: EEEEEEK! (Looks TERRIFIED) Matt you aren’t funny! This is a stupid prank, and a stupid box, and a stupid… (Looks at the butter knife like it’s a gigantic sword) scary... knife… covered in stupid… but somehow strangely frightening peanut butter!!! Matt, WHERE ARE YOU? This isn’t funny! You know I have a general anxiety disorder! (Begins hyperventilating and going hysterical flailing his limbs and yelling like crazy in anxiety) AHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARRRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m hysterical!!! Matty please help me!!! Uhhh uh, I need my inhaler. (Sits to the ground) Uh, ah. Matty…. (Repeats name like he’s a little baby who needs his mom) Matty… ahhh… (Lies down for about 5-8 seconds then bolts head up.)
What if it’s not Matt? What if, what if someone’s got him? (Stand up and paces back and forth fast and awkwardly) I need to call 911! Uh, I uh, I need Sherlock Holmes! (Crying) I need my Mommy!!!! Uh, ah, I need….. *GASP*
Wait. (Says this word with an “I am awesome and smart and mischievous” kind of voice, and with an arch of the eyebrow and hand in “gun” position against his chin to look somewhat reminiscent of James Bond… at least Joey thinks so.)
The card says I’m supposed to meet this bad dude at the Pig, so I’M going to meet this bad dude at the Pig! Yeah! (Fists in the arm in excitement!)
I’ll go save him! And then maybe people will talk to me…. (In a proper tone) in a nice and polite manner… (Back to excited tone) and with lots of compliments like my Mom always said I deserved. YES! Now just… 8.5 hours till midnight. (Stands awkwardly for a while looking at the ceiling then turns and looks at the couch, and sits down and brushes off his pants and folds his hands into his lap. Then he lets out a big sigh. Then he smacks his lips and then begins to make funny noises with his lips/mouth to a blackout. Whole thing should be about 45 seconds in length.)
END SCENE ONE
SCENE TWO:
Setting:
The scene takes place at the Piggly Wiggly in Cross Plains, WI, first outside the building and then inside the building.
Time:
July 2009, 12:00 midnight.
Character Description:
Same characters as before, only now the peanut butter is more developed. The new brand peanut butter (the actual substance, not the jar) is a monster. It comes from one gigantic source in the back room of the Piggly Wiggly, with plans to rule the world by turning people into evil peanut butter minions once they have consumed enough of the monster peanut butter pieces. Also, in this scene Matt is at first an evil peanut butter minion, while Joey is trying to be a hero.
(Joey approaches the Piggly Wiggly and does a stealthy summersault as he approaches the front doors. He sneaks around and is trying to figure out how to scale the building to get in… then he realizes the side door is open and is about to just walk in easily… then does a darting move to the side of the doorway, looks both ways and jumps inside the building.)
(Once inside Joey looks around unsure of what he shall find. He makes his way down the Aisles...)
Joey: Shoot! I forgot what aisle… 4? Was it 4? No. Couldn’t have been 4, I mean, gee, why the heck would it be 4? (Laughing to himself) I know, aisle 5!
(Dashes around the corner to aisle 5 and jumps out to find nothing)
Not aisle 5... not aisle 5… What aisle?!
Voice over intercom: 7
Joey: I think my brain just said 11? Yeah it was 11, wasn’t it?
Voice over intercom: (more irritated and scary) 7!
Joey: No, of course it wasn’t aisle 7… But I’m pretty sure it was 11. Or maybe 10.
Voice over intercom: Aisle 7 you idiot!!
Joey: Idiot... I WOULD NEVER CALL MYSELF AN IDIOT! *GASP* (high pitched scared soft voice and crouched over in fear) …Who said that?
(Joey walks over to aisle 11, then hears a growl over the intercom and remembers to go to aisle 7. Once he rounds the corner of the aisle, he is face to face with a GIANT PEANUT BUTTER MONSTER. Behind the glob of monster is a mass amount of people all with hair and skin color the shade of peanut butter. In front of the monster is Matt, who looks as if he has been possessed)
Joey: Eeeeep. (Squeaky scared noise and then he clears his throat) (Manly sounding) I mean, uh, (unsure sounding) hello?
Monster: Joey… so nice of you to join us. Your friend Matt here is a great recruit. He’s gotten all the girls in your grade here.
Joey: Seriously? I don’t get it. Tall, dark, and handsome… Well at least I don’t turn you into a mindless peanut butter soldier! Why do the nice guys always finish last….?
Monster: Joey!
Joey: AH! Sorry… Uh… (Realizing that this monster doesn’t seem so scary... casually speaks) So whatcha doin’?
Monster: You are a peculiar one for your kind. I generally find you humans all so easy to figure out, but you seem to show no concern for the seriousness of the situation. Perhaps that is due to your other part. I have here 500 people who are completely under my control. You see, that new brand of peanut butter is actually pieces of me. I can regenerate and replenish myself, so I can give any amount of myself away. When you humans consume me, you become a part of me. And the taste is so addictive that it starts to because a need, just like air and water, to have peanut butter. It was my great grandfather who devised this plan, and finally, I shall carry it out!
Joey: What plan?
Monster: To rule the Earth once more! To restore our rightful place!
Joey: (Bursts out laughing) You’re kidding right? I mean, really. C’mon.
Monster: I do not process your humor. I should fill you with terror; we are to take back the planet!
Joey: (Bursts out laughing again) I’m sorry – I just…. (More laughter) Ohhhh man. Okay, now, dude. Be serious.
Monster: ARRRRRRGHHHH! (Joey stops laughing because he is now somewhat scared)
Joey: Wait, you’re serious? But… rule it again? Your place? That would mean…
Monster: Peanut butter creatures ruled the world long before you humans ever existed. Before the dinosaurs, before the plants… (Starts talking more like a proper British gentleman) after the single-cell organisms, though. Obviously, we PB creatures are far more complex than that. (Return to scary bellowing voice) BUT YOU SEE… when we were first introduced to the world, we ruled it for millions and millions of years! But then there was an incident with some extraterrestrials… We tried to take their technology and failed… They buried us into the Earth’s crust as punishment. After an immeasurably long period of time, we were released into the world… Humans had discovered us in the ground. But you humans, you sick humans! You all killed my people, and ate us! Typically on bread or crackers, sometimes with celery, and sometimes with strange things like cookies and pickles… It as disgusting! I won’t even go into what that Skippy business did, but I can’t even close my eyes without seeing that horrible picture in my mind… But all of this is not the point.
Joey: Alrighty then…. What is the point intelligent, scary peanut butter guy?
Monster: The point, Joey, is that we were knocked down from our place and pushed to the lowest level of worth… but now we shall reign again… Thanks to the Piggly Wiggly. (Name said with complete evil and sincerity)
Joey: Oh my goodness, not the Piggly Wiggly (Said with sarcastic fear that the monster doesn’t pick up on)
Monster: Ohhhhh yes!! The Piggly Wiggly! (Evil Laugh while Joey looks around awkwardly)
Joey: (While monster is evil laughing... addressed to Matt, talking as if it’s so simple of a situation to get out of) Eh, Matt... Psst. Wanna go? Buddy? Can you hear me?
Matt: Hummiah shhabba diddle deedle floooop.
Joey: Yeah, yup. I get that. But listen, we gotta go.
Matt: Human…
Joey: That’s right, we’re human. So now that that’s cleared up –
Monster: Oh, young Joey. It’s not that easy.
Joey: Of course it’s not… Why would things ever be easy?
Monster: It’s all a part of the Piggly Wiggly’s scheme. You see this chain of grocery stores wasn’t created for conveyance for the American people, and wasn’t popular because of its entertaining name. Oh no. It’s so much more. This chain was created to sell this specific brand of peanut butter. My brand. You see I was of the noble family, which means I have power beyond belief.
Joey: You mean more unbelievable than the fact that peanut butter monsters used to rule the world and now I’m talking to one that has my best friend in some sort of coma and is telling me I’m trapped and thinks he’s witty when really he’s just kind of a tool?
Monster: I don’t know what this “tool” word is when describing another being, but do not think I won’t find out, young Joey. My powers are beyond belief. And so I can turn you mere humans into my followers. I will take my minions and have them turn against your people. The human race shall die out, killing itself, and we peanut butter creatures will take all the glory. We will be on top again.
Joey: Why haven’t you yet?
Monster: Uh… (Nonscary voice) huh?
Joey: If you have this power beyond belief… why haven’t you taken back your place yet? Why are you in aisle 7 of the Piggly Wiggly talking to an almost-freshman that can’t even have a conversation with a girl?
Monster: We are missing a very important component.
Joey: And what is that?
Monster: You see… there is a prophecy that foretold of the one human that would help us, because this human was of peanut butter descent. This was the chosen one.
Joey: (Sarcastic and annoyed sounding) Uh huh. Well, you have good luck finding that chosen one.
Monster: (Loving voice) Joey.
Joey: (Fake loving voice) Monster.
Monster: You are our chosen one. You are to lead our minions to battle the rest of your race. You will find minions all over. They are all prepared to destroy. We believe in you Joey. The fate of the peanut butter creatures depends on you.
Joey: Chosen one? Like… (In British accent) Harry Potter?
Monster: Harry who?
Joey: (British accent) I’m Harry Potter! ‘Ello ladies. I’m here to save the human race.
Monster: No! No not the humans. The peanut butter creatures. Joey, you must not side with the human race. If you do, it breaks our agreement with the higher beings to be released.
Joey: You’re saying that I choose whether or not I want to save the humans or the peanut butter freaky things?
Monster: Joey, before you doom us all... I must warn you. So you choose to save the humans, you yourself will become fully human.
Joey: I am fully human.
Monster: No, Joey. You have red hair, pale skin, and freckles.
Joey: You just had to pull the ginger thing.
Monster: No, Joey. Every human that has those features is of peanut butter descent. Those people will all lose those characteristics and become like the others. They will lose that part of their heritage and the peanut butter creatures will be gone from this world for good!
Joey: That means…!
Monster: No more gingers. No more peanut butter sandwiches. Are you prepared to face a world like that?
Joey: Oh my… (Joey is happy about this, but the monster doesn’t pick up on that)
Monster: And if you save the peanut butter creatures, King Joey… you will have all you ever dreamed of.
Joey: But I’ll still look like this and have no girlfriend?
Monster: No. You will look like me!
(Joey gives disgusted face)
And yeah, probably still no girlfriend. That’s a hard one to just make happen, kid.
Joey: Okay, okay. First things first... unleash my best friend. Then we can talk about saving your race.
Monster: Then what’s the point of unleashing your friend?
Joey: (Cry voice) I just know that this is the way he would have wanted to go…
Monster: Yes, wise, young Joey.
(Matt is hit with a force that makes him turn to normal with paler skin and dark gorgeous hair. He is functioning normally… and then he falls to the ground to sleep and begins to snore)
Monster: The whole minion process is a tiring one.
Joey: Understandable. Now how do I go about finalizing this decision?
Monster: I shall call upon the higher ups now.
OOOOOOOOOOOOHWERRRRRRRRRRRRRRWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHH!
Joey: (to himself) That is the amazing call to the higher up guys… really?
(The roof to the Piggly Wiggly comes off the store and there is a spaceship above the place. A beam is placed over Joey. It’s extremely loud and the wind is very fast all around them)
Monster: TELL THEM!
Joey: I WANT TO SAVE… (Pauses and itches his eye and makes pained sounds) SORRY! I GOT A BUG IN MY EYE! MUST BE THE WIND! WHAT WAS I SAYING?
Monster: TELL THEM JOEY! BEFORE THEY LEAVE!
Joey: OH YEAH… (Awkward laugh) I WANT TO SAVE THE HUMAN RACE!!
Monster: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(BAM noise and everything changes)
END SCENE TWO
SCENE ONE:
Setting:
This scene is set in a 3 bedroom ranch-styled home in Middleton, WI, currently in the living room and kitchen.
Time:
July 2009, 2:30 pm
Character Description:
Joey is a strange, obnoxious, nerdy, short and stout boy with bright red hair and many freckles. He is 15 years old and has a best friend, Matt. Matt is 15 as well, however he is shy, nice, intelligent, tall, lean, and normally has brilliantly dark hair. There is also an aggravated jar of peanut butter.
(Matt and Joey are playing videogames in Matt’s living room)
Matt: Hey, I’m getting kind of hungry. Want anything from the kitchen?
Joey: Nah, I just want pizza. Let’s go! I’m thinking Caesars cuz I don’t got a lot of cash…
Matt: Ugh, no. I’m going to make myself a peanut butter sandwich.
Joey: (Say PB not Peanut butter) Another pb sandwich? Seriously, dude. Haven’t you had one everyday for every meal this whole summer? That’s sick.
Matt: There’s just something about this new brand of peanut butter my Mom got from the Piggly Wiggly. (Matt is staring up at the ceiling like he’s looking to the Gods) I crave it all the time. Sometimes, it’s the only thing I can think about. It’s kept me up nights… thinking about that luscious, thick, but creamy peanut butter. I imagine the feeling of it getting stuck on the roof of my mouth... how great it is to go in for that second bite…
Joey: Dude. You gotta get out more… I’m going to walk to Little Caesars... I really don’t think it’s right for me to be here while you are having a love affair with a peanut butter sandwich.
Matt: Whatever, I’ll see ya later, man.
Joey: (While walking out) You know you smell like rotten peanut butter… And you even kinda look like the stuff…
Matt: What?!
Joey: Ya... just look at your hair. It used to be that dark brown color and now it’s all light since you’ve been going psycho for it. And you’re kind of tan even though you haven’t been outside once this summer.
Matt: I think you’re the one who is psycho right now.
Joey: Okay, man…. But when all the ladies see you on the first day of school, they’ll give up their life long crushes and come to Big Papa here… Then you’ll be sorry you didn’t have pizza with me.
(Joey walks out the door. Matt is alone.)
Matt: (To the tune of peanut butter jelly time, singing shout) Peanut butter sandwich time, it’s peanut butter sandwich time!
(Matt gets out bread, butter knife, and of course the peanut butter. Opens the jar and is about to dip in the knife in when the jar of peanut butter attacks and he falls back behind the table… We hear his struggles and the horrendous growl of the peanut butter)
(Joey arrives back soon after, Matt is gone.)
Joey: (said in a female seductive-like voice) Matty matt… Baby, it’s me, your peanut butter sandwich… Oh I’ve been waiting for you all day long. Matty…..?
(Discovers a box sitting on top of the table with an empty jar of peanut butter on top of it. He grabs the jar and throws it off the top. He opens the box and pulls out a card and a butter knife with chunky bits of peanut butter on the end.)
Joey: (reading the card) Meet me at the Piggly Wiggly at midnight. Aisle 7. What the heck? Matt, this is stupid. You aren’t funny…. (Looks around the room and seems to get scared… and then speaks very quietly and politely but with a lot of emotion) I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said all the ladies would want me. You know, it’s difficult, trust me I know. But, buddy, you can get through it. Not everybody is meant to be the bird... some guys have to be the wings… Matty…
(LOUD GROWL)
Joey: EEEEEEK! (Looks TERRIFIED) Matt you aren’t funny! This is a stupid prank, and a stupid box, and a stupid… (Looks at the butter knife like it’s a gigantic sword) scary... knife… covered in stupid… but somehow strangely frightening peanut butter!!! Matt, WHERE ARE YOU? This isn’t funny! You know I have a general anxiety disorder! (Begins hyperventilating and going hysterical flailing his limbs and yelling like crazy in anxiety) AHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARRRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m hysterical!!! Matty please help me!!! Uhhh uh, I need my inhaler. (Sits to the ground) Uh, ah. Matty…. (Repeats name like he’s a little baby who needs his mom) Matty… ahhh… (Lies down for about 5-8 seconds then bolts head up.)
What if it’s not Matt? What if, what if someone’s got him? (Stand up and paces back and forth fast and awkwardly) I need to call 911! Uh, I uh, I need Sherlock Holmes! (Crying) I need my Mommy!!!! Uh, ah, I need….. *GASP*
Wait. (Says this word with an “I am awesome and smart and mischievous” kind of voice, and with an arch of the eyebrow and hand in “gun” position against his chin to look somewhat reminiscent of James Bond… at least Joey thinks so.)
The card says I’m supposed to meet this bad dude at the Pig, so I’M going to meet this bad dude at the Pig! Yeah! (Fists in the arm in excitement!)
I’ll go save him! And then maybe people will talk to me…. (In a proper tone) in a nice and polite manner… (Back to excited tone) and with lots of compliments like my Mom always said I deserved. YES! Now just… 8.5 hours till midnight. (Stands awkwardly for a while looking at the ceiling then turns and looks at the couch, and sits down and brushes off his pants and folds his hands into his lap. Then he lets out a big sigh. Then he smacks his lips and then begins to make funny noises with his lips/mouth to a blackout. Whole thing should be about 45 seconds in length.)
END SCENE ONE
SCENE TWO:
Setting:
The scene takes place at the Piggly Wiggly in Cross Plains, WI, first outside the building and then inside the building.
Time:
July 2009, 12:00 midnight.
Character Description:
Same characters as before, only now the peanut butter is more developed. The new brand peanut butter (the actual substance, not the jar) is a monster. It comes from one gigantic source in the back room of the Piggly Wiggly, with plans to rule the world by turning people into evil peanut butter minions once they have consumed enough of the monster peanut butter pieces. Also, in this scene Matt is at first an evil peanut butter minion, while Joey is trying to be a hero.
(Joey approaches the Piggly Wiggly and does a stealthy summersault as he approaches the front doors. He sneaks around and is trying to figure out how to scale the building to get in… then he realizes the side door is open and is about to just walk in easily… then does a darting move to the side of the doorway, looks both ways and jumps inside the building.)
(Once inside Joey looks around unsure of what he shall find. He makes his way down the Aisles...)
Joey: Shoot! I forgot what aisle… 4? Was it 4? No. Couldn’t have been 4, I mean, gee, why the heck would it be 4? (Laughing to himself) I know, aisle 5!
(Dashes around the corner to aisle 5 and jumps out to find nothing)
Not aisle 5... not aisle 5… What aisle?!
Voice over intercom: 7
Joey: I think my brain just said 11? Yeah it was 11, wasn’t it?
Voice over intercom: (more irritated and scary) 7!
Joey: No, of course it wasn’t aisle 7… But I’m pretty sure it was 11. Or maybe 10.
Voice over intercom: Aisle 7 you idiot!!
Joey: Idiot... I WOULD NEVER CALL MYSELF AN IDIOT! *GASP* (high pitched scared soft voice and crouched over in fear) …Who said that?
(Joey walks over to aisle 11, then hears a growl over the intercom and remembers to go to aisle 7. Once he rounds the corner of the aisle, he is face to face with a GIANT PEANUT BUTTER MONSTER. Behind the glob of monster is a mass amount of people all with hair and skin color the shade of peanut butter. In front of the monster is Matt, who looks as if he has been possessed)
Joey: Eeeeep. (Squeaky scared noise and then he clears his throat) (Manly sounding) I mean, uh, (unsure sounding) hello?
Monster: Joey… so nice of you to join us. Your friend Matt here is a great recruit. He’s gotten all the girls in your grade here.
Joey: Seriously? I don’t get it. Tall, dark, and handsome… Well at least I don’t turn you into a mindless peanut butter soldier! Why do the nice guys always finish last….?
Monster: Joey!
Joey: AH! Sorry… Uh… (Realizing that this monster doesn’t seem so scary... casually speaks) So whatcha doin’?
Monster: You are a peculiar one for your kind. I generally find you humans all so easy to figure out, but you seem to show no concern for the seriousness of the situation. Perhaps that is due to your other part. I have here 500 people who are completely under my control. You see, that new brand of peanut butter is actually pieces of me. I can regenerate and replenish myself, so I can give any amount of myself away. When you humans consume me, you become a part of me. And the taste is so addictive that it starts to because a need, just like air and water, to have peanut butter. It was my great grandfather who devised this plan, and finally, I shall carry it out!
Joey: What plan?
Monster: To rule the Earth once more! To restore our rightful place!
Joey: (Bursts out laughing) You’re kidding right? I mean, really. C’mon.
Monster: I do not process your humor. I should fill you with terror; we are to take back the planet!
Joey: (Bursts out laughing again) I’m sorry – I just…. (More laughter) Ohhhh man. Okay, now, dude. Be serious.
Monster: ARRRRRRGHHHH! (Joey stops laughing because he is now somewhat scared)
Joey: Wait, you’re serious? But… rule it again? Your place? That would mean…
Monster: Peanut butter creatures ruled the world long before you humans ever existed. Before the dinosaurs, before the plants… (Starts talking more like a proper British gentleman) after the single-cell organisms, though. Obviously, we PB creatures are far more complex than that. (Return to scary bellowing voice) BUT YOU SEE… when we were first introduced to the world, we ruled it for millions and millions of years! But then there was an incident with some extraterrestrials… We tried to take their technology and failed… They buried us into the Earth’s crust as punishment. After an immeasurably long period of time, we were released into the world… Humans had discovered us in the ground. But you humans, you sick humans! You all killed my people, and ate us! Typically on bread or crackers, sometimes with celery, and sometimes with strange things like cookies and pickles… It as disgusting! I won’t even go into what that Skippy business did, but I can’t even close my eyes without seeing that horrible picture in my mind… But all of this is not the point.
Joey: Alrighty then…. What is the point intelligent, scary peanut butter guy?
Monster: The point, Joey, is that we were knocked down from our place and pushed to the lowest level of worth… but now we shall reign again… Thanks to the Piggly Wiggly. (Name said with complete evil and sincerity)
Joey: Oh my goodness, not the Piggly Wiggly (Said with sarcastic fear that the monster doesn’t pick up on)
Monster: Ohhhhh yes!! The Piggly Wiggly! (Evil Laugh while Joey looks around awkwardly)
Joey: (While monster is evil laughing... addressed to Matt, talking as if it’s so simple of a situation to get out of) Eh, Matt... Psst. Wanna go? Buddy? Can you hear me?
Matt: Hummiah shhabba diddle deedle floooop.
Joey: Yeah, yup. I get that. But listen, we gotta go.
Matt: Human…
Joey: That’s right, we’re human. So now that that’s cleared up –
Monster: Oh, young Joey. It’s not that easy.
Joey: Of course it’s not… Why would things ever be easy?
Monster: It’s all a part of the Piggly Wiggly’s scheme. You see this chain of grocery stores wasn’t created for conveyance for the American people, and wasn’t popular because of its entertaining name. Oh no. It’s so much more. This chain was created to sell this specific brand of peanut butter. My brand. You see I was of the noble family, which means I have power beyond belief.
Joey: You mean more unbelievable than the fact that peanut butter monsters used to rule the world and now I’m talking to one that has my best friend in some sort of coma and is telling me I’m trapped and thinks he’s witty when really he’s just kind of a tool?
Monster: I don’t know what this “tool” word is when describing another being, but do not think I won’t find out, young Joey. My powers are beyond belief. And so I can turn you mere humans into my followers. I will take my minions and have them turn against your people. The human race shall die out, killing itself, and we peanut butter creatures will take all the glory. We will be on top again.
Joey: Why haven’t you yet?
Monster: Uh… (Nonscary voice) huh?
Joey: If you have this power beyond belief… why haven’t you taken back your place yet? Why are you in aisle 7 of the Piggly Wiggly talking to an almost-freshman that can’t even have a conversation with a girl?
Monster: We are missing a very important component.
Joey: And what is that?
Monster: You see… there is a prophecy that foretold of the one human that would help us, because this human was of peanut butter descent. This was the chosen one.
Joey: (Sarcastic and annoyed sounding) Uh huh. Well, you have good luck finding that chosen one.
Monster: (Loving voice) Joey.
Joey: (Fake loving voice) Monster.
Monster: You are our chosen one. You are to lead our minions to battle the rest of your race. You will find minions all over. They are all prepared to destroy. We believe in you Joey. The fate of the peanut butter creatures depends on you.
Joey: Chosen one? Like… (In British accent) Harry Potter?
Monster: Harry who?
Joey: (British accent) I’m Harry Potter! ‘Ello ladies. I’m here to save the human race.
Monster: No! No not the humans. The peanut butter creatures. Joey, you must not side with the human race. If you do, it breaks our agreement with the higher beings to be released.
Joey: You’re saying that I choose whether or not I want to save the humans or the peanut butter freaky things?
Monster: Joey, before you doom us all... I must warn you. So you choose to save the humans, you yourself will become fully human.
Joey: I am fully human.
Monster: No, Joey. You have red hair, pale skin, and freckles.
Joey: You just had to pull the ginger thing.
Monster: No, Joey. Every human that has those features is of peanut butter descent. Those people will all lose those characteristics and become like the others. They will lose that part of their heritage and the peanut butter creatures will be gone from this world for good!
Joey: That means…!
Monster: No more gingers. No more peanut butter sandwiches. Are you prepared to face a world like that?
Joey: Oh my… (Joey is happy about this, but the monster doesn’t pick up on that)
Monster: And if you save the peanut butter creatures, King Joey… you will have all you ever dreamed of.
Joey: But I’ll still look like this and have no girlfriend?
Monster: No. You will look like me!
(Joey gives disgusted face)
And yeah, probably still no girlfriend. That’s a hard one to just make happen, kid.
Joey: Okay, okay. First things first... unleash my best friend. Then we can talk about saving your race.
Monster: Then what’s the point of unleashing your friend?
Joey: (Cry voice) I just know that this is the way he would have wanted to go…
Monster: Yes, wise, young Joey.
(Matt is hit with a force that makes him turn to normal with paler skin and dark gorgeous hair. He is functioning normally… and then he falls to the ground to sleep and begins to snore)
Monster: The whole minion process is a tiring one.
Joey: Understandable. Now how do I go about finalizing this decision?
Monster: I shall call upon the higher ups now.
OOOOOOOOOOOOHWERRRRRRRRRRRRRRWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHH!
Joey: (to himself) That is the amazing call to the higher up guys… really?
(The roof to the Piggly Wiggly comes off the store and there is a spaceship above the place. A beam is placed over Joey. It’s extremely loud and the wind is very fast all around them)
Monster: TELL THEM!
Joey: I WANT TO SAVE… (Pauses and itches his eye and makes pained sounds) SORRY! I GOT A BUG IN MY EYE! MUST BE THE WIND! WHAT WAS I SAYING?
Monster: TELL THEM JOEY! BEFORE THEY LEAVE!
Joey: OH YEAH… (Awkward laugh) I WANT TO SAVE THE HUMAN RACE!!
Monster: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(BAM noise and everything changes)
END SCENE TWO
School Assignment
Short Play written about characters Tom from Glass Menagerie, Blanche and Stanley from A Streetcar Named Desire, and Maggie and Brick from Cat On A Hot Tin Roof
If you know these plays... it really helps to make sense.
Tom: Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeve. I bring you to a place, New Orleans. The time is the forties, where internal and external tensions are high post-war, and every doll is looking for her fifteen minutes shining with hotsy-totsy big shots. People here see illusion. But I show you truth in a streetcar named Desire. I am the narrator of the play, and a character in it. There’s also Blanche, a dame who’s tied up in fantasy. There’s Maggie, she’s a witty and beautiful broad, but needs help; Help! She’s stuck in a trap. Another character is Stanley… now you don’t want to go messing around with a man like Stanley, especially if you’re a pretty young thing with her head in the clouds. But Stanley’s been a better man since his pregnant wife was murdered. And we have Brick, who’s living the life of a prince throwing back drink after drink. There is a final character in the play who doesn’t appear except on the movie poster. (Motions to poster) It’s my father. He ran away from our family a long time ago; he’s an actor who’s got the part of a telephone man who fell in love with long distances. Here are the characters are stepping out for a night at the movies, but they are all a bit early for the showing. This is the background of the play and the people in it…
(Exit Tom, Enter Blanche and Stanley)
Blanche: I want magic… Movies are filled with desire, Stanley. It let’s one go back to another time, a fantasy of the past. Oh but it’s a real. You don’t know real fantasy, do you Stanley?
Stanley: How’s about no talk of fantasies tonight, eh Blanche?
Blanche: Fantasy takes you back to when we had Stella. Stella for star. My baby sister didn’t get caught by the man on purpose, Stanley. She was just minding her business, all alone, no one there to protect-
Stanley: Enough about Stella, Alright! I don’t need no loony queen blaming me.
Blanche: (dreamily) Ah, remembrance. Dreams. They all go together, Stanley. Men and forbidden desires, the dancing… and… BAM! (Mimicking a gunshot)
(Enter Tom)
Blanche: Why hello there young man. Young, young, young man. Please excuse me for not being appropriately fresh, I’m afraid I haven’t washed or powdered my face in days. You see Stanley here hasn’t any money to pay the bills, and I’m afraid since I’m a gal with no real purpose in this country and no help to this economy, I haven’t any either.
Tom: Hello m’am. It’s alright; you don’t need to make an impression on me.
Blanche: (In a dreamy, yearning voice) Oh, well if you don’t mind how I look now, you’d be a perfect young, young, young man to wake up next to in the morning after a long night filled with passion and desire… Voulez-vou coucher avec moi ce soir?
Tom: Excuse me?
Blanche: Oh nothing, honey. What’d you say your name was?
Tom: Tom Wingfield.
Blanche: Tom, that’s a bland name, isn’t Tom? But I suppose you’re a simple American, honey, and you don’t need much of a name for a simplistic lifestyle… three letters, indeed, are enough. Stanley, say hello to Mr. Tom Wingfield?
Stanley: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Blanche: Stanley that is no way to greet such a kind man. Such a kind young man. Young, young, young man.
Tom: Uh. (Tom turns toward movie poster and stares at it a while, before turning away in disgust, he is completely silent and staring at the ground)
(Enter Maggie)
Stanley: (directed to Blanche) Who’s this?
(Blanche looks questioningly at the woman as well)
(Tom overhears Stanley’s question and finally looks up again)
Tom: Oh that’s Maggie, she used to be quite the doll but lately she’s rather catty… I blame her husband.
Maggie: Brick! He doesn’t understand that I love him, I love him so much, I do! (Looks around theatre) Hmm, this place reminds me of that Rainbow Hill. Place that’s famous for treatin; alcoholics an’ dope fiends in the movies! (Pretends to claw at poster of actor)
Blanche: Why hello there, dear. Might I introduce myself? My name is Blanche DuBois. I remember when I had a shape like yours, so young and fresh. You must have a man to appreciate your looks, you don’t even have to bother with creating an illusion. Me, I have to create magic for a man to look me over… But I love doing it, I love making them see a fantasy… It may be false but it’s much more delightful then the truth, don’t you agree?
Maggie: Well my name is Maggie, and I’m afraid no man appreciates my shape except Big Daddy. I caught him moving his eyes up and down my body. Brick doesn’t right now, but I know he’ll change his mind soon or else… Ah I would just die! I’d have to pull the trigger on myself! If Brick never made love to me again… Oh I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof.
Stanley: (Gives Maggie a once over) I don’t know what man wouldn’t appreciate that shape.
Blanche: Now Stanley. Don’t forget Stella. She may be gone but my baby sister’s husband shouldn’t marry another woman yet!
Stanley: Who mentioned marriage? I had something else in mind…
Blanche: Stella!
Stanley: (Finally cracks) STELLA!!
(Enter Brick)
Maggie: Brick! Brick! I’m so glad you came, Baby.
(reaches out for his arm but he shrugs his shoulder away)
Brick: Maggie, please, the conditions. Listen I’m only here since my liquor’s still locked up. Now how about you come back with me and take care of that problem?
Maggie: Not unless you make a baby with me, Brick. Then they won’t pick on us for being childless! And you’ll see how much I really do love you, Baby. You will.
Brick: Maggie, you’re not going to conceive a child with a man who CAN’T STAND YOU and who LOVES HIS LIQUOR.
Maggie: You’re just sore about Skipper, Baby. Now I know you guys had a special kind of a friendship, and Skipper loved you, Baby, he really did. I’m sorry we made love to each other, but you know that was your fault. Baby, please finally understand. Let’s have us a child tonight, or else I will go to watch this movie and find you at home. But sooner or later, you’ll give in, Baby.
Brick: I can’t give in; I don’t even want to be near you. I just want my liquor, but I can find that elsewhere.
(Turns to leave)
Maggie: Brick! Brick! Brick!! I do love you, Brick, I do!
Brick: Wouldn’t it be funny if that was true?
(Exit Brick, leaves for good)
Maggie: Brick! You make me feel like a cat on a hot tin roof. (Sinks to the ground beneath the poster)
Tom: Why are the doors still closed?
Blanche: Oh it builds the suspense, honey. That’s how they keep you coming back for more.
Stanley: Yeah, I’d be more likely to come back if I didn’t have to witness all this mess here.
Blanche: Isn’t it grand, Stanley? All these people have so many stories, and they all meet up in the same place at the same time. I think that’s the way life has to work to keep people living it. We have these moments where the stars seem to line up. Besides, Stanley, you’ve got your own mess.
Stanley: STELLA! I got her killed. STELLA!!!
(Theatre doors open)
Tom: (narrating)The movie is going to start, finally, but no one reacts to the doors. Not just yet. Some of us never get a chance to go out to the moon, but on the other hand, some of us go much further. Blanche is stuck in a false reality, completely lost. She has no love, no life. Stanley is left crying out for his wife who was brutally murdered in his absence, a fate that he blames entirely on his inaction. Brick and Maggie are through being anything to each other, and here sits Maggie, hurt and lonely. For all of them, it’s over. Me, I ran away from home. I got no job, no future, and burning memories of my sister and mother. I’m the bastard son of a bastard who’s starring in the movies, and would like nothing to do with me. For all of us, it’s over, so we have to go in.
(Maggie gets up, all of them walk into the movie)
(Blanche pauses at poster)
Blanche: (to the poster) Whoever you are, I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.
(This tells us she has finally… lost every bit of sanity)
Stanley: STELLA!!!!!!
Maggie: Brick! Brick! I DO LOVE YOU, BRICK!
Tom: We’ll all go with the fantasy tonight. The movie begins, the theater darkens. And so good-bye…
If you know these plays... it really helps to make sense.
Tom: Yes, I have tricks in my pocket, I have things up my sleeve. I bring you to a place, New Orleans. The time is the forties, where internal and external tensions are high post-war, and every doll is looking for her fifteen minutes shining with hotsy-totsy big shots. People here see illusion. But I show you truth in a streetcar named Desire. I am the narrator of the play, and a character in it. There’s also Blanche, a dame who’s tied up in fantasy. There’s Maggie, she’s a witty and beautiful broad, but needs help; Help! She’s stuck in a trap. Another character is Stanley… now you don’t want to go messing around with a man like Stanley, especially if you’re a pretty young thing with her head in the clouds. But Stanley’s been a better man since his pregnant wife was murdered. And we have Brick, who’s living the life of a prince throwing back drink after drink. There is a final character in the play who doesn’t appear except on the movie poster. (Motions to poster) It’s my father. He ran away from our family a long time ago; he’s an actor who’s got the part of a telephone man who fell in love with long distances. Here are the characters are stepping out for a night at the movies, but they are all a bit early for the showing. This is the background of the play and the people in it…
(Exit Tom, Enter Blanche and Stanley)
Blanche: I want magic… Movies are filled with desire, Stanley. It let’s one go back to another time, a fantasy of the past. Oh but it’s a real. You don’t know real fantasy, do you Stanley?
Stanley: How’s about no talk of fantasies tonight, eh Blanche?
Blanche: Fantasy takes you back to when we had Stella. Stella for star. My baby sister didn’t get caught by the man on purpose, Stanley. She was just minding her business, all alone, no one there to protect-
Stanley: Enough about Stella, Alright! I don’t need no loony queen blaming me.
Blanche: (dreamily) Ah, remembrance. Dreams. They all go together, Stanley. Men and forbidden desires, the dancing… and… BAM! (Mimicking a gunshot)
(Enter Tom)
Blanche: Why hello there young man. Young, young, young man. Please excuse me for not being appropriately fresh, I’m afraid I haven’t washed or powdered my face in days. You see Stanley here hasn’t any money to pay the bills, and I’m afraid since I’m a gal with no real purpose in this country and no help to this economy, I haven’t any either.
Tom: Hello m’am. It’s alright; you don’t need to make an impression on me.
Blanche: (In a dreamy, yearning voice) Oh, well if you don’t mind how I look now, you’d be a perfect young, young, young man to wake up next to in the morning after a long night filled with passion and desire… Voulez-vou coucher avec moi ce soir?
Tom: Excuse me?
Blanche: Oh nothing, honey. What’d you say your name was?
Tom: Tom Wingfield.
Blanche: Tom, that’s a bland name, isn’t Tom? But I suppose you’re a simple American, honey, and you don’t need much of a name for a simplistic lifestyle… three letters, indeed, are enough. Stanley, say hello to Mr. Tom Wingfield?
Stanley: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Blanche: Stanley that is no way to greet such a kind man. Such a kind young man. Young, young, young man.
Tom: Uh. (Tom turns toward movie poster and stares at it a while, before turning away in disgust, he is completely silent and staring at the ground)
(Enter Maggie)
Stanley: (directed to Blanche) Who’s this?
(Blanche looks questioningly at the woman as well)
(Tom overhears Stanley’s question and finally looks up again)
Tom: Oh that’s Maggie, she used to be quite the doll but lately she’s rather catty… I blame her husband.
Maggie: Brick! He doesn’t understand that I love him, I love him so much, I do! (Looks around theatre) Hmm, this place reminds me of that Rainbow Hill. Place that’s famous for treatin; alcoholics an’ dope fiends in the movies! (Pretends to claw at poster of actor)
Blanche: Why hello there, dear. Might I introduce myself? My name is Blanche DuBois. I remember when I had a shape like yours, so young and fresh. You must have a man to appreciate your looks, you don’t even have to bother with creating an illusion. Me, I have to create magic for a man to look me over… But I love doing it, I love making them see a fantasy… It may be false but it’s much more delightful then the truth, don’t you agree?
Maggie: Well my name is Maggie, and I’m afraid no man appreciates my shape except Big Daddy. I caught him moving his eyes up and down my body. Brick doesn’t right now, but I know he’ll change his mind soon or else… Ah I would just die! I’d have to pull the trigger on myself! If Brick never made love to me again… Oh I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof.
Stanley: (Gives Maggie a once over) I don’t know what man wouldn’t appreciate that shape.
Blanche: Now Stanley. Don’t forget Stella. She may be gone but my baby sister’s husband shouldn’t marry another woman yet!
Stanley: Who mentioned marriage? I had something else in mind…
Blanche: Stella!
Stanley: (Finally cracks) STELLA!!
(Enter Brick)
Maggie: Brick! Brick! I’m so glad you came, Baby.
(reaches out for his arm but he shrugs his shoulder away)
Brick: Maggie, please, the conditions. Listen I’m only here since my liquor’s still locked up. Now how about you come back with me and take care of that problem?
Maggie: Not unless you make a baby with me, Brick. Then they won’t pick on us for being childless! And you’ll see how much I really do love you, Baby. You will.
Brick: Maggie, you’re not going to conceive a child with a man who CAN’T STAND YOU and who LOVES HIS LIQUOR.
Maggie: You’re just sore about Skipper, Baby. Now I know you guys had a special kind of a friendship, and Skipper loved you, Baby, he really did. I’m sorry we made love to each other, but you know that was your fault. Baby, please finally understand. Let’s have us a child tonight, or else I will go to watch this movie and find you at home. But sooner or later, you’ll give in, Baby.
Brick: I can’t give in; I don’t even want to be near you. I just want my liquor, but I can find that elsewhere.
(Turns to leave)
Maggie: Brick! Brick! Brick!! I do love you, Brick, I do!
Brick: Wouldn’t it be funny if that was true?
(Exit Brick, leaves for good)
Maggie: Brick! You make me feel like a cat on a hot tin roof. (Sinks to the ground beneath the poster)
Tom: Why are the doors still closed?
Blanche: Oh it builds the suspense, honey. That’s how they keep you coming back for more.
Stanley: Yeah, I’d be more likely to come back if I didn’t have to witness all this mess here.
Blanche: Isn’t it grand, Stanley? All these people have so many stories, and they all meet up in the same place at the same time. I think that’s the way life has to work to keep people living it. We have these moments where the stars seem to line up. Besides, Stanley, you’ve got your own mess.
Stanley: STELLA! I got her killed. STELLA!!!
(Theatre doors open)
Tom: (narrating)The movie is going to start, finally, but no one reacts to the doors. Not just yet. Some of us never get a chance to go out to the moon, but on the other hand, some of us go much further. Blanche is stuck in a false reality, completely lost. She has no love, no life. Stanley is left crying out for his wife who was brutally murdered in his absence, a fate that he blames entirely on his inaction. Brick and Maggie are through being anything to each other, and here sits Maggie, hurt and lonely. For all of them, it’s over. Me, I ran away from home. I got no job, no future, and burning memories of my sister and mother. I’m the bastard son of a bastard who’s starring in the movies, and would like nothing to do with me. For all of us, it’s over, so we have to go in.
(Maggie gets up, all of them walk into the movie)
(Blanche pauses at poster)
Blanche: (to the poster) Whoever you are, I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.
(This tells us she has finally… lost every bit of sanity)
Stanley: STELLA!!!!!!
Maggie: Brick! Brick! I DO LOVE YOU, BRICK!
Tom: We’ll all go with the fantasy tonight. The movie begins, the theater darkens. And so good-bye…
Awwwww (cheesy, gag me)
When I was a little girl, I believed that stars would make dreams come true. I believed that every person had a special star assigned to them that listened for their voice, and always heard it even when it got lost in the chaotic sounds of the world. I’d wish to my star to grant me the gift to touch the world. Song was the only way I could reach out to those around me, and when I sang I felt untouchably beautiful and attainable all at once. My desires and needs escaped my lips in familiar melodies; my deepest secrets were revealed to the tune of “Hit Me Baby, One More Time.” I felt a surge of electrostatic power in my voice, but only through my song.
The time came when I hit the age of 10, and stumbled across mutual infatuation for the first time. This proposed love of my life was my world. I spoke to him roughly nine times in our seven month relationship. Then, in the most cliché and inevitable way, all wondrous things came to a sudden halt. My glorious love of the fifth grade class broke my heart. Pangs of emptiness filled my heart and it was as if my throat had closed. I had no song to sing for I couldn’t verbally produce coherent thoughts or creative hums of beautiful music. The truth would not break free from my silence.
Alone in troubled thoughts, I struggled for a way to express my emotions. At 10, no rational explanation for my love lost came to mind. With little faith, I turned to my beloved star for help. I cried out to this particular brilliant, dazzling star and wished to find one outlet that I could be passionate about. Although no luminous magic filled my room directly after, I did notice the most typical yet extraordinary sight. In the corner of my room sat a fuzzy, blue diary my sister had given me for my birthday that I had yet to unwrap from its plastic cage. On the front cover was a sparkling star with a fake but gleaming gem, and I took this to be a gift from my special star. I unwrapped the diary, picked up the feather pen that came with it, flipped to the first page, and began to write.
The only goal I want to achieve in my lifetime is to be heard. As a young girl, I desperately thought my voice could only be found in music. However, that day I began to write, a dramatic shift occurred. I found great joy in exploring my thoughts, emotions, relationships, and dreams in stories and monologues. Soon I heard other characters in the back of my mind, all a part of me and all begging to be released onto my paper. I examined my words and was astonished by the realness, the bravery, the honesty, the maturity, and the complexity. Finally, my words felt beautiful all on their own, without the help of a radio tune. It had come to my realization that a song is nothing without radiant, influential lyrics.
In hindsight, I see that the stars did not bring me those gifts; rather, they were within me all along. That’s the funny splendor about life; it always seems to take irrational belief to reveal reality. Over the years I have written out many thoughts, stories, plays, lyrics, poems, and even raps that have entered my mind. My dreams of the path I want to take are constantly changing, but I do feel in my heart that it is everything I am to speak on paper. Living in a prison of cowardice and silent murmurs, where no imaginative feelings are expressed, would be the most unfulfilled life I could envisage for myself. I hope to inspire the world with my language as the mysterious, glittering stars inspired me.
The time came when I hit the age of 10, and stumbled across mutual infatuation for the first time. This proposed love of my life was my world. I spoke to him roughly nine times in our seven month relationship. Then, in the most cliché and inevitable way, all wondrous things came to a sudden halt. My glorious love of the fifth grade class broke my heart. Pangs of emptiness filled my heart and it was as if my throat had closed. I had no song to sing for I couldn’t verbally produce coherent thoughts or creative hums of beautiful music. The truth would not break free from my silence.
Alone in troubled thoughts, I struggled for a way to express my emotions. At 10, no rational explanation for my love lost came to mind. With little faith, I turned to my beloved star for help. I cried out to this particular brilliant, dazzling star and wished to find one outlet that I could be passionate about. Although no luminous magic filled my room directly after, I did notice the most typical yet extraordinary sight. In the corner of my room sat a fuzzy, blue diary my sister had given me for my birthday that I had yet to unwrap from its plastic cage. On the front cover was a sparkling star with a fake but gleaming gem, and I took this to be a gift from my special star. I unwrapped the diary, picked up the feather pen that came with it, flipped to the first page, and began to write.
The only goal I want to achieve in my lifetime is to be heard. As a young girl, I desperately thought my voice could only be found in music. However, that day I began to write, a dramatic shift occurred. I found great joy in exploring my thoughts, emotions, relationships, and dreams in stories and monologues. Soon I heard other characters in the back of my mind, all a part of me and all begging to be released onto my paper. I examined my words and was astonished by the realness, the bravery, the honesty, the maturity, and the complexity. Finally, my words felt beautiful all on their own, without the help of a radio tune. It had come to my realization that a song is nothing without radiant, influential lyrics.
In hindsight, I see that the stars did not bring me those gifts; rather, they were within me all along. That’s the funny splendor about life; it always seems to take irrational belief to reveal reality. Over the years I have written out many thoughts, stories, plays, lyrics, poems, and even raps that have entered my mind. My dreams of the path I want to take are constantly changing, but I do feel in my heart that it is everything I am to speak on paper. Living in a prison of cowardice and silent murmurs, where no imaginative feelings are expressed, would be the most unfulfilled life I could envisage for myself. I hope to inspire the world with my language as the mysterious, glittering stars inspired me.
Something I wrote this year, Meh, don't know how I feel about it, but work is meant to be shown right?
Love Died in the 1400's.
Setting: Coffee shop in Gas lamp district of San Diego
Time: Noon
Characters:
Brent – A sarcastic, witty, charming, scary, confusing, and loving, 17 year old vampire. He is the protagonist, and he is one that audience wants to root for but feels bad to do so.
Sarah: A stunningly gorgeous 17 year old girl, who enchants people with her presence.
() = Asides directly said to the audience and no other characters hear.
(Sarah): Hello. I am Sarah Morgan, a 17-year-old adolescent with lots of dreams. The biggest one? To kill one of the most vile creatures known to man. I’m sure that isn’t what you were expecting to hear. I’m a typical young lady with one unique quality: I slay vampires. I was brought up by my older sister. My parents died when we were little… murdered. Being so young, I didn’t understand the situation. I just remember that I when I wanted mommy and daddy, they weren’t there. However, I felt lucky to have my sister, regardless of her eccentric qualities. My sister, Belle, was obsessed with fantasy… but the not the Disney princess kind. No, she liked werewolves, incubuses, and vampires. Belle sworn she saw the demon who killed our parents. “This was not the work of a human,” she would say. “This is a far greater evil, greater than anything we’ll come to find in our mortal existence.” She was 16 while I was but 5 years old. She had to grow up and raise me at the same time. We lived on our own, running from location to location, never quite sure where we belonged. Through the course of her life, she was involved in self-dense classes, various forms of martial arts, and even a cage fighter when she was 19. She gathered information from her “sacred” books about the tools she needed to hunt and destroy these creatures she was fixated with and possessed by. She taught me fighting techniques, how to use weapons, and the best tactics for killing a vampire. I never thought it was normal, but I never protested. I had no one else. Belle was my only family, and I would not turn my back on the one constant in my life. I wanted revenge. I wanted to do the same dastardly deed to the thing that killed my sweet mommy and daddy. I kill any vampire, but the day I meet that particular one… Uhm, though my time mainly goes towards hunting and preparing for the day I face my parent’s killer, I do still go to school at whatever town I’m living in for the month or two. However I refrain from befriending others because I’m nervous somewhere down the line… I’ll have to kill them. And regardless of any feelings I have for them, I’ll kill those satanic monsters with no remorse, not even an ounce. (Changes tone) It’s definitely affected my love life, as I’m sure you could imagine. I’m growing tired of lonely nights spent hunting down bloodsuckers in grave yards with no one to enjoy their shrill screams with me or to come home to cuddle with after. I’m… desperate for a little romance. One night could be enough. For now, I have to keep myself grounded. No day dreams. I have to head over to the coffee shop for my usual afternoon kick of caffeine.
SARAH enters shop. BRENT GIRL ONE GIRL TWO and VENDOR are present
G2: Oh I’d take some vampire candy over that any day…
(S): And undoubtedly referring to Edward Cullen. Really? Girls these days. You know when all this Twilight nonsense started I thought, maybe vampires aren’t as intimating as Bram Stoker depicted them to be. But, trust me, one and one with a vampire isn’t the dreamy treat these teenagers imagine it to be.
S: Vampire candy? A real vampire would make you the candy, sweetheart. And he wouldn’t sparkle either.
G2: You trying to say he’d look just like him?
(SARAH looks at BRENT)
(S): He… He’s beautiful. (hesitating) In an unconventional way, at least…
G1: Yeah, vampires are pretty average if you ask me.
(S): Oh shut up you whinny little shrew.
B: Pshh…
(S): Is it just me or did that “pshh” sound a little cocky?
(SARAH stares at BRENT, notices both GIRLS are staring too)
B: What?
(GIRLS exit to get coffee. SARAH follows BRENT to his table)
(S): Maybe I should introduce myself? Here it goes.
S: Hey there. I’m Sarah. (Extends hand, BRENT stares at it but makes no attempt to shake her hand back)
(S): (Hand still up) Yep. This isn’t awkward at all… (BRENT still staring) Alright, that’s enough (throws hand down)
S: Do I know you? You actually look really familiar. Maybe I’ve seen you at school?
B: Uh, no. You’ve never seen me.
(S): Hmm. He seems to say that rather defiantly. Is there a reason why I haven’t seen him before? I need to know more…
S: Oh? And who is it that I’ve never seen? You must have a name.
(S): Ooh, smooth move Sarah!
B: Ah, sorry. (Laughs sexily) It’s Brent.
(S): Wow, his laugh is sexy. Damn.
S: Brent, I like that. Well, Brent (alluring) now that I know your name you can’t leave me. (Winks)
(S): Tell me, did I honestly just say THAT and WINK? Come on! What is that? (Looks back at BRENT, he’s staring at her, scaling his eyes up and down and stopping at all the right curves). Why is he staring at my body? He probably doesn’t want to hear me say one more word. I need to salvage this.
S: I’m just kidding… But I have to excuse myself for a moment while I buy a coffee. But I’d like to sit and talk to you a while.
B: Sounds wonderfu-ck. I can’t actually.
S: That’s too bad. (Looks like Brent is thinking while she says that and so she doesn’t really try and get his attention saying this)
(S): Screw this, I’ll just go for it.
S: Well, hey… Hmm, I don’t mean to be forward.
B: (Eager) No, please be forward. I like forward.
(S): That sounded a little stronger than I expected. I’ll just let that clinginess slide and laugh so he doesn’t feel strange. (Giggles infectiously)
S: How would you like to meet me tonight for a movie? There’s a zombie flick playing at a theatre just a few blocks away. Say about 7?
B: Uh…
(S): Oh no… I don’t handle rejection very well. I tend to use weapons. Ooh, ego! Quick, must attack his manhood.
S: Unless, you can’t handle a horror movie… (says in a challenging tone)
B: (Change in attitude) I’ll be there.
(S): Works like a charm.
S: Great. (Walks away looking back at him)
BRENT exits
(S): He’s intriguing… not like other boys I’ve met around here. I’m not afraid that I’ll have to kill him… This boy is completely human, I can assure you of that. No… I’m afraid that he’ll break my heart. That’s one tribulation I’ve never had to face. For this reason I resent having any emotions at all. I wish that I didn’t long for love while I long for death.
BLACKOUT.
Brent: Hey. My name is Brent Taylor. (Nod) Sup? I’m what people refer to as… monster, uhm… demon, killer, and uh… Ooh! Sexual deviant (wink and slight “Heh” laugh. Indicates hand gesture to move on to next name but hesitates) Bloodsucker… and (Depressingly) killer. (Light hearted) But most recently… uh, the worst of all names… Edward Cullen. I take on social norms of today’s age, so not to stand out. I’m a pretty regular guy… aside from the fact that I am inhuman and murder people 3 times a week (Nervous laugh and then a clap in front of his body as if it’s a twitch and also in a “let’s move on from this topic” manner) I keep to myself most of the time, alone in my, admittedly, kickass apartment in the San Diego Gaslamp District. Every time I “mingle with the mortals” (Say this in a “cool” dad kind of way… Pretending to be hip with the youngsters), things seem to go awry. I wasn’t much of a dater when I was human, and I’m definitely not now. Certain circumstances get in the way of romance. I keep waiting for her though. (Loving and hopeful) The woman who is my soul mate… (Reality sinks in, depressingly) Though, my soul is damned to Satan… (Suddenly optimistic) so I need to meet a girl destined to burn in the fiery pits of hell … (Sarcastic but believable) Just the idea of her makes me feel alive again. I… need coffee. Hot chicks tend to hang out at those joints these days.
B: Hey could I get just coffee black? Tall, please.
Vendor: No problem. That’ll be $3.71.
B: K. Thanks, man.
Enter girls
G1: Ah! OH EM GEE!
(B): (Explanatory) Typical teenage female exclamatory… (Longingly but sarcastic) I do miss the days when English was a beautiful language.
G1: You did not just say that! I can’t believe you just said that. Did you hear her just say that? (Brent taken aback by her being so in his face)
(B): (Sarcastically scared) It talked to me.
G2: Uh shut up! Don’t get him involved… he’ll probably be on your side and then I’ll feel dumb-ah!
G1: YOU ARE DUMB! I can’t believe you are still Team Edward!
B: (Loud sigh and shaking of head)
(B): Really?
G2: I can’t forget my eternal love for him just because Jacob has Abs!
G1: Whatever, it’s not just the body that makes me Team Jacob. He is fun, and a werewolf… werewolves are delicious.
B: (Look back at Vendor)
Vendor: Yeah, I don’t get it either.
G2: Oh I’d take some vampire candy over that any day…
B: (About to say something)
Enter SARAH, a strikingly beautiful girl also age 17.
S: Vampire candy? A real vampire would make you the candy, sweetheart. And he wouldn’t sparkle either.
(B): A woman who doesn’t defend Edward Cullen? (Eyebrow raise) Intriguing. (Turns to look at her) (Funny guy but serious) HOT DAMN, that’s a woman. (Sensitive) I mean… Wow. She’s… (As if he had never said this word before) beautiful.
G2: (Disgusted) You trying to say he’d just look like him? (Indicates Brent)
(B): I resent that. I’m no Greek god, but hey, I’m not too shabby. She’s just jealous.
G1: (mean tone) Yeah vampires are pretty average if you ask me. (Smiles because she’s please with herself)
B: Pshh…
(B): Damn it! I hope that “pshh” didn’t sound too cocky. I don’t want her to think I’m a total prick.
B: (Turns head and all girls are looking at him.) What?
GIRLS walk over to the VENDOR to get coffee and then proceed to sit down. SARAH follows BRENT to his table.
S: (Smiling brightly and charmingly) Hey there. I’m Sarah. (Extends hand)
B: (Looks down at hand… makes no approach to reach for it. After an awkward moment, Sarah puts her hand down.)
S: Do I know you? You actually look really familiar. Maybe I’ve seen you at school.
(B): Funny she mentions it… I’m actually pictured in a social studies textbook in a section about the Salem Witch trials. I sort of encouraged the persecution of “witches.” It was like… how Subway has those (sing) 5 dollar foot longs. (Remembrance and again talking) All that food for so little cost.
B: Uh, no. You’ve never seen me.
S: Oh? And who is it that I’ve never seen? You must have a name.
B: Ah, sorry (laughs sexily). It’s Brent.
S: Brent. I like that. Well, Brent… (Alluring…)Now that I know your name you can’t leave me (winks)
(B): I wouldn’t dream of it. (Checks her out)
S: I’m just kidding… but I have to excuse myself for a moment while I buy a coffee. But I’d like to sit and talk to you a while.
B: Sounds wonderfu-ck. I can’t actually.
(B): If I spend all too long talking to this girl while I’m... thirsty… My charms are going to kick in and she’s going to want to go back to my place. (Wink at a girl in the audience in front row or so and say improvisations like “Hey, you free tonight” then return to Brent’s story) But I… I like her. I don’t want anything bad to happen. (Love struck) She could be the one.
S: That’s too bad. Well, hey… Hmm, I don’t mean to be forward.
B: (Eager) No, please be forward. I like forward.
(B): Little too strong…
S: (Laughs infectiously)
(B): (Smiling) She thought it was funny.
S: How would you like to meet me tonight for a movie? There’s a zombie flick playing at a theatre just a few blocks away. Say about 7?
B: Uh...
S: Unless, you can’t handle a horror movie…
(B): (Eerily) Oh honey, you’re in one. (Nicer) And I’m sorry for that.
B: I’ll be there.
S: Great. (Walks away while looking over her shoulder)
BRENT leaves café. Standing outside.
(B): Part of me wants to kiss her and call her mine… while the other wants me to rid her of every last drop of blood. I need to quench my thirst before I see her. Uh, I usually murder in style, not quickly out of desperation. Things like this take time…
GIRLS appear
G1: Hey I’m this way, see you girl!
LEAVES
G2: Super… Hey you.
(B): Stake me.
G2: Want to walk with me?
(B): You know, I suppose I can make an exception to my stealth just this once…
(Smiles mischievously, exits with Girl Two)
Setting: Coffee shop in Gas lamp district of San Diego
Time: Noon
Characters:
Brent – A sarcastic, witty, charming, scary, confusing, and loving, 17 year old vampire. He is the protagonist, and he is one that audience wants to root for but feels bad to do so.
Sarah: A stunningly gorgeous 17 year old girl, who enchants people with her presence.
() = Asides directly said to the audience and no other characters hear.
(Sarah): Hello. I am Sarah Morgan, a 17-year-old adolescent with lots of dreams. The biggest one? To kill one of the most vile creatures known to man. I’m sure that isn’t what you were expecting to hear. I’m a typical young lady with one unique quality: I slay vampires. I was brought up by my older sister. My parents died when we were little… murdered. Being so young, I didn’t understand the situation. I just remember that I when I wanted mommy and daddy, they weren’t there. However, I felt lucky to have my sister, regardless of her eccentric qualities. My sister, Belle, was obsessed with fantasy… but the not the Disney princess kind. No, she liked werewolves, incubuses, and vampires. Belle sworn she saw the demon who killed our parents. “This was not the work of a human,” she would say. “This is a far greater evil, greater than anything we’ll come to find in our mortal existence.” She was 16 while I was but 5 years old. She had to grow up and raise me at the same time. We lived on our own, running from location to location, never quite sure where we belonged. Through the course of her life, she was involved in self-dense classes, various forms of martial arts, and even a cage fighter when she was 19. She gathered information from her “sacred” books about the tools she needed to hunt and destroy these creatures she was fixated with and possessed by. She taught me fighting techniques, how to use weapons, and the best tactics for killing a vampire. I never thought it was normal, but I never protested. I had no one else. Belle was my only family, and I would not turn my back on the one constant in my life. I wanted revenge. I wanted to do the same dastardly deed to the thing that killed my sweet mommy and daddy. I kill any vampire, but the day I meet that particular one… Uhm, though my time mainly goes towards hunting and preparing for the day I face my parent’s killer, I do still go to school at whatever town I’m living in for the month or two. However I refrain from befriending others because I’m nervous somewhere down the line… I’ll have to kill them. And regardless of any feelings I have for them, I’ll kill those satanic monsters with no remorse, not even an ounce. (Changes tone) It’s definitely affected my love life, as I’m sure you could imagine. I’m growing tired of lonely nights spent hunting down bloodsuckers in grave yards with no one to enjoy their shrill screams with me or to come home to cuddle with after. I’m… desperate for a little romance. One night could be enough. For now, I have to keep myself grounded. No day dreams. I have to head over to the coffee shop for my usual afternoon kick of caffeine.
SARAH enters shop. BRENT GIRL ONE GIRL TWO and VENDOR are present
G2: Oh I’d take some vampire candy over that any day…
(S): And undoubtedly referring to Edward Cullen. Really? Girls these days. You know when all this Twilight nonsense started I thought, maybe vampires aren’t as intimating as Bram Stoker depicted them to be. But, trust me, one and one with a vampire isn’t the dreamy treat these teenagers imagine it to be.
S: Vampire candy? A real vampire would make you the candy, sweetheart. And he wouldn’t sparkle either.
G2: You trying to say he’d look just like him?
(SARAH looks at BRENT)
(S): He… He’s beautiful. (hesitating) In an unconventional way, at least…
G1: Yeah, vampires are pretty average if you ask me.
(S): Oh shut up you whinny little shrew.
B: Pshh…
(S): Is it just me or did that “pshh” sound a little cocky?
(SARAH stares at BRENT, notices both GIRLS are staring too)
B: What?
(GIRLS exit to get coffee. SARAH follows BRENT to his table)
(S): Maybe I should introduce myself? Here it goes.
S: Hey there. I’m Sarah. (Extends hand, BRENT stares at it but makes no attempt to shake her hand back)
(S): (Hand still up) Yep. This isn’t awkward at all… (BRENT still staring) Alright, that’s enough (throws hand down)
S: Do I know you? You actually look really familiar. Maybe I’ve seen you at school?
B: Uh, no. You’ve never seen me.
(S): Hmm. He seems to say that rather defiantly. Is there a reason why I haven’t seen him before? I need to know more…
S: Oh? And who is it that I’ve never seen? You must have a name.
(S): Ooh, smooth move Sarah!
B: Ah, sorry. (Laughs sexily) It’s Brent.
(S): Wow, his laugh is sexy. Damn.
S: Brent, I like that. Well, Brent (alluring) now that I know your name you can’t leave me. (Winks)
(S): Tell me, did I honestly just say THAT and WINK? Come on! What is that? (Looks back at BRENT, he’s staring at her, scaling his eyes up and down and stopping at all the right curves). Why is he staring at my body? He probably doesn’t want to hear me say one more word. I need to salvage this.
S: I’m just kidding… But I have to excuse myself for a moment while I buy a coffee. But I’d like to sit and talk to you a while.
B: Sounds wonderfu-ck. I can’t actually.
S: That’s too bad. (Looks like Brent is thinking while she says that and so she doesn’t really try and get his attention saying this)
(S): Screw this, I’ll just go for it.
S: Well, hey… Hmm, I don’t mean to be forward.
B: (Eager) No, please be forward. I like forward.
(S): That sounded a little stronger than I expected. I’ll just let that clinginess slide and laugh so he doesn’t feel strange. (Giggles infectiously)
S: How would you like to meet me tonight for a movie? There’s a zombie flick playing at a theatre just a few blocks away. Say about 7?
B: Uh…
(S): Oh no… I don’t handle rejection very well. I tend to use weapons. Ooh, ego! Quick, must attack his manhood.
S: Unless, you can’t handle a horror movie… (says in a challenging tone)
B: (Change in attitude) I’ll be there.
(S): Works like a charm.
S: Great. (Walks away looking back at him)
BRENT exits
(S): He’s intriguing… not like other boys I’ve met around here. I’m not afraid that I’ll have to kill him… This boy is completely human, I can assure you of that. No… I’m afraid that he’ll break my heart. That’s one tribulation I’ve never had to face. For this reason I resent having any emotions at all. I wish that I didn’t long for love while I long for death.
BLACKOUT.
Brent: Hey. My name is Brent Taylor. (Nod) Sup? I’m what people refer to as… monster, uhm… demon, killer, and uh… Ooh! Sexual deviant (wink and slight “Heh” laugh. Indicates hand gesture to move on to next name but hesitates) Bloodsucker… and (Depressingly) killer. (Light hearted) But most recently… uh, the worst of all names… Edward Cullen. I take on social norms of today’s age, so not to stand out. I’m a pretty regular guy… aside from the fact that I am inhuman and murder people 3 times a week (Nervous laugh and then a clap in front of his body as if it’s a twitch and also in a “let’s move on from this topic” manner) I keep to myself most of the time, alone in my, admittedly, kickass apartment in the San Diego Gaslamp District. Every time I “mingle with the mortals” (Say this in a “cool” dad kind of way… Pretending to be hip with the youngsters), things seem to go awry. I wasn’t much of a dater when I was human, and I’m definitely not now. Certain circumstances get in the way of romance. I keep waiting for her though. (Loving and hopeful) The woman who is my soul mate… (Reality sinks in, depressingly) Though, my soul is damned to Satan… (Suddenly optimistic) so I need to meet a girl destined to burn in the fiery pits of hell … (Sarcastic but believable) Just the idea of her makes me feel alive again. I… need coffee. Hot chicks tend to hang out at those joints these days.
B: Hey could I get just coffee black? Tall, please.
Vendor: No problem. That’ll be $3.71.
B: K. Thanks, man.
Enter girls
G1: Ah! OH EM GEE!
(B): (Explanatory) Typical teenage female exclamatory… (Longingly but sarcastic) I do miss the days when English was a beautiful language.
G1: You did not just say that! I can’t believe you just said that. Did you hear her just say that? (Brent taken aback by her being so in his face)
(B): (Sarcastically scared) It talked to me.
G2: Uh shut up! Don’t get him involved… he’ll probably be on your side and then I’ll feel dumb-ah!
G1: YOU ARE DUMB! I can’t believe you are still Team Edward!
B: (Loud sigh and shaking of head)
(B): Really?
G2: I can’t forget my eternal love for him just because Jacob has Abs!
G1: Whatever, it’s not just the body that makes me Team Jacob. He is fun, and a werewolf… werewolves are delicious.
B: (Look back at Vendor)
Vendor: Yeah, I don’t get it either.
G2: Oh I’d take some vampire candy over that any day…
B: (About to say something)
Enter SARAH, a strikingly beautiful girl also age 17.
S: Vampire candy? A real vampire would make you the candy, sweetheart. And he wouldn’t sparkle either.
(B): A woman who doesn’t defend Edward Cullen? (Eyebrow raise) Intriguing. (Turns to look at her) (Funny guy but serious) HOT DAMN, that’s a woman. (Sensitive) I mean… Wow. She’s… (As if he had never said this word before) beautiful.
G2: (Disgusted) You trying to say he’d just look like him? (Indicates Brent)
(B): I resent that. I’m no Greek god, but hey, I’m not too shabby. She’s just jealous.
G1: (mean tone) Yeah vampires are pretty average if you ask me. (Smiles because she’s please with herself)
B: Pshh…
(B): Damn it! I hope that “pshh” didn’t sound too cocky. I don’t want her to think I’m a total prick.
B: (Turns head and all girls are looking at him.) What?
GIRLS walk over to the VENDOR to get coffee and then proceed to sit down. SARAH follows BRENT to his table.
S: (Smiling brightly and charmingly) Hey there. I’m Sarah. (Extends hand)
B: (Looks down at hand… makes no approach to reach for it. After an awkward moment, Sarah puts her hand down.)
S: Do I know you? You actually look really familiar. Maybe I’ve seen you at school.
(B): Funny she mentions it… I’m actually pictured in a social studies textbook in a section about the Salem Witch trials. I sort of encouraged the persecution of “witches.” It was like… how Subway has those (sing) 5 dollar foot longs. (Remembrance and again talking) All that food for so little cost.
B: Uh, no. You’ve never seen me.
S: Oh? And who is it that I’ve never seen? You must have a name.
B: Ah, sorry (laughs sexily). It’s Brent.
S: Brent. I like that. Well, Brent… (Alluring…)Now that I know your name you can’t leave me (winks)
(B): I wouldn’t dream of it. (Checks her out)
S: I’m just kidding… but I have to excuse myself for a moment while I buy a coffee. But I’d like to sit and talk to you a while.
B: Sounds wonderfu-ck. I can’t actually.
(B): If I spend all too long talking to this girl while I’m... thirsty… My charms are going to kick in and she’s going to want to go back to my place. (Wink at a girl in the audience in front row or so and say improvisations like “Hey, you free tonight” then return to Brent’s story) But I… I like her. I don’t want anything bad to happen. (Love struck) She could be the one.
S: That’s too bad. Well, hey… Hmm, I don’t mean to be forward.
B: (Eager) No, please be forward. I like forward.
(B): Little too strong…
S: (Laughs infectiously)
(B): (Smiling) She thought it was funny.
S: How would you like to meet me tonight for a movie? There’s a zombie flick playing at a theatre just a few blocks away. Say about 7?
B: Uh...
S: Unless, you can’t handle a horror movie…
(B): (Eerily) Oh honey, you’re in one. (Nicer) And I’m sorry for that.
B: I’ll be there.
S: Great. (Walks away while looking over her shoulder)
BRENT leaves café. Standing outside.
(B): Part of me wants to kiss her and call her mine… while the other wants me to rid her of every last drop of blood. I need to quench my thirst before I see her. Uh, I usually murder in style, not quickly out of desperation. Things like this take time…
GIRLS appear
G1: Hey I’m this way, see you girl!
LEAVES
G2: Super… Hey you.
(B): Stake me.
G2: Want to walk with me?
(B): You know, I suppose I can make an exception to my stealth just this once…
(Smiles mischievously, exits with Girl Two)
Re-work
So to write this piece, I took some old writing of mine and reworked it into a new story with a completely different message involved. I was happy with the result and I like this re-work better than the original.
The Clock
Hour by hour. Minute by minute. Second by second. Tick, tiick, tiiick. The droning of the clock never ceases. Each second seems to modify in length, growing idler each instant; the shifting countdown of my sanity. Weary of the unrelenting life surrounding me, I create an empty vortex of artificial existence. Tick, tiick, tiiick. I must stay far away from this place, this deed, this crime. No one can accept the monstrous mask I so gallantly wear tonight. Other humans by nature are judgmentally sanctified and blessedly errant. By all that commands me, let it be. I accept the mendacity in the hearts of those I used to recognize to be all knowing and righteous. I allow myself to be a part of this whole, but my recent tribulation hath left me alone with shadows of demonic tones. One must find the balance between forgiven evil and the devil possessing the soul. Lightning swirls and dances outside my window in the gray, celestial sky. My eyes glow with every thunderous illumination.
Before was different. Before, there was an unfaltering ray of everlasting light. The divine, honest light. There was a soul. Tick, tick, tick. I am reminded of the grand clock in the corner of the room. Its paint is chipping away along with each movement of the secondhand. Time has resumed at a steady pace. I am losing faith that I could revert back to my stable mind. Tick, tick. Before, I was lively, I was open, I was free. Before was everything. The room becomes a faint blue. Power surges through my body, and every nerve-ending wakes generating a current pulsing through me like flames in my veins. My heart beat flutters and falters as I look up at the shadows. They are here, above the bed, above me. I look at the abysmal figures taunting me, their sadistic language rings in my ears. I must hide.
I cower beneath my covers and sink into the depths of my comforter, protecting my body and shielding my eyes from the blinding darkness. The shadows whisper “monster” with cool breath at the nape of my neck. They keep me sad, they keep me cursed. They keep me. Then silence. Silence… growing louder, mocking me! The solitude is treacherous enough, but silence! Chiming in with an electroweak force, killing the energy within me. Tick! Tick! Tick! A sudden roar escapes from time. Before, there was no fear. Now, I fear myself. One shadow has begun to caress my cheek, gliding its form slow enough to send stabbing shivers through my being. The other shadow is clawing at my stomach, and I feel my skin shredding as it digs deeper. Before, I loved. I loved with such a passion, purity, and precision. That was and always will be, before. Tick! Tick! Almost nothing left. I deserve these shadows, I deserve the darkness. I can no longer breathe, can’t think… I am about to complete my existence. Admitting my sickness would keep me here. But I cannot. I do not dare to speak words validating my malice. Tick! Tick! Before, I confessed my sins. Before, I refrained from darkness. Tick! Tick! Before, I could not inflict pain on another, especially one so dear to me…
Tick! Tick! Now I hear my scream! No, that cannot be. That is not me, that is another. The victim! Tick! Tick! After, I felt ashamed. The shadows are forcing me to remember my offense… and the guilt consumes me, attacks. Tick! Tick! Tick! After, I felt enraged. I felt strong, I felt frail. One shadow moves away from my freshly slashed torso to my eyes. Eyes are the only uncontaminated fraction of me that remains. I read the shadow’s thoughts; it’s bewilderment at the transparent splendor. Moments of hurried bliss paused the clock. But sooner or later, time must continue. Tick! Tick! The burning! My eyes catch flame staring into the perpetual oblivion of the shadow. Tick! Tick! After, my soul left me. I am a shell of a human that once was. A piercing jolt rages through my heart as another shadow returns to me and shrieks an ephemeral, frantic howl. Hopelessness… My consciousness is fleeting. Tick! Tick! TICK! After, I felt I died along with…!
Tick, tiick, tiiick. Second by second. Minute by minute. Hour by hour. I freeze while needles attack me with numbness. The shadows. They wrap themselves around me, constricting me of life, of thought, of sorrow, of faith. My throat is slit, and the blood trickles down my spine reaching the small of my back. I try to cling to my life but the shadows intend to take my vitality. I must forget that horrific, unspeakable second, and the beauty that once lived prior to this night. But before, I wasn’t a murderer. The shadows overwhelm, all goes blank. The world is hushed except for the tick, tiick, tiiick. The droning of the clock never ceases.
The Clock
Hour by hour. Minute by minute. Second by second. Tick, tiick, tiiick. The droning of the clock never ceases. Each second seems to modify in length, growing idler each instant; the shifting countdown of my sanity. Weary of the unrelenting life surrounding me, I create an empty vortex of artificial existence. Tick, tiick, tiiick. I must stay far away from this place, this deed, this crime. No one can accept the monstrous mask I so gallantly wear tonight. Other humans by nature are judgmentally sanctified and blessedly errant. By all that commands me, let it be. I accept the mendacity in the hearts of those I used to recognize to be all knowing and righteous. I allow myself to be a part of this whole, but my recent tribulation hath left me alone with shadows of demonic tones. One must find the balance between forgiven evil and the devil possessing the soul. Lightning swirls and dances outside my window in the gray, celestial sky. My eyes glow with every thunderous illumination.
Before was different. Before, there was an unfaltering ray of everlasting light. The divine, honest light. There was a soul. Tick, tick, tick. I am reminded of the grand clock in the corner of the room. Its paint is chipping away along with each movement of the secondhand. Time has resumed at a steady pace. I am losing faith that I could revert back to my stable mind. Tick, tick. Before, I was lively, I was open, I was free. Before was everything. The room becomes a faint blue. Power surges through my body, and every nerve-ending wakes generating a current pulsing through me like flames in my veins. My heart beat flutters and falters as I look up at the shadows. They are here, above the bed, above me. I look at the abysmal figures taunting me, their sadistic language rings in my ears. I must hide.
I cower beneath my covers and sink into the depths of my comforter, protecting my body and shielding my eyes from the blinding darkness. The shadows whisper “monster” with cool breath at the nape of my neck. They keep me sad, they keep me cursed. They keep me. Then silence. Silence… growing louder, mocking me! The solitude is treacherous enough, but silence! Chiming in with an electroweak force, killing the energy within me. Tick! Tick! Tick! A sudden roar escapes from time. Before, there was no fear. Now, I fear myself. One shadow has begun to caress my cheek, gliding its form slow enough to send stabbing shivers through my being. The other shadow is clawing at my stomach, and I feel my skin shredding as it digs deeper. Before, I loved. I loved with such a passion, purity, and precision. That was and always will be, before. Tick! Tick! Almost nothing left. I deserve these shadows, I deserve the darkness. I can no longer breathe, can’t think… I am about to complete my existence. Admitting my sickness would keep me here. But I cannot. I do not dare to speak words validating my malice. Tick! Tick! Before, I confessed my sins. Before, I refrained from darkness. Tick! Tick! Before, I could not inflict pain on another, especially one so dear to me…
Tick! Tick! Now I hear my scream! No, that cannot be. That is not me, that is another. The victim! Tick! Tick! After, I felt ashamed. The shadows are forcing me to remember my offense… and the guilt consumes me, attacks. Tick! Tick! Tick! After, I felt enraged. I felt strong, I felt frail. One shadow moves away from my freshly slashed torso to my eyes. Eyes are the only uncontaminated fraction of me that remains. I read the shadow’s thoughts; it’s bewilderment at the transparent splendor. Moments of hurried bliss paused the clock. But sooner or later, time must continue. Tick! Tick! The burning! My eyes catch flame staring into the perpetual oblivion of the shadow. Tick! Tick! After, my soul left me. I am a shell of a human that once was. A piercing jolt rages through my heart as another shadow returns to me and shrieks an ephemeral, frantic howl. Hopelessness… My consciousness is fleeting. Tick! Tick! TICK! After, I felt I died along with…!
Tick, tiick, tiiick. Second by second. Minute by minute. Hour by hour. I freeze while needles attack me with numbness. The shadows. They wrap themselves around me, constricting me of life, of thought, of sorrow, of faith. My throat is slit, and the blood trickles down my spine reaching the small of my back. I try to cling to my life but the shadows intend to take my vitality. I must forget that horrific, unspeakable second, and the beauty that once lived prior to this night. But before, I wasn’t a murderer. The shadows overwhelm, all goes blank. The world is hushed except for the tick, tiick, tiiick. The droning of the clock never ceases.
Thank you
I'd like to extend my gratitude to the blank slate before me. To the empty page, the fresh word document, you are my inspiration. I see you and my thoughts become new and clear. Without you, I'd feel lost, undecided, inhuman. You great spaces keep me sane.
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