[x]

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On iron gates the Comte's coat-of-arms bears the rumour:
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spot Dominique, circulating, ever with a different party,
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I looked around the lobby. It was small and well furnished. A large coffee table occupied the center of the room, surrounded on two sides by a small sofa and an armchair, which for some reason made me think of my grandfather. On the opposite side of the room, there was a water cooler and several large unopened refill containers. On a table near the door was the item I was looking

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The village was not particularly big. Rather, it was frightfully small, and just as frightfully remote. That said, it was little surprise that every denizen turned out for something so important as the funeral of a good man.

—and it truly was each and every one: every man, woman, and child; every son, brother, and father; every maiden, mother, and crone. It was said even the dogs followed at the heels of their masters, even the songbirds gathered in the trees, and the livestock unable to free themselves from their pens

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His first visit was to Mrs Madrigal at the far end of the valley. Her triplets were feverish, so he calmed and soothed them with the medicines in his little black bag until they fell into a rhythmic sleep. He left their worried mother with a chill pill and instructions to bring them to the surgery in the morning.

Back on the path, feet pumping, heart thumping, cane tapping, he scaled the ascent to Beggar's Farm, where Mr Williams was feeling crotchety. The problem was minor so his work was minimal and the visit brief.

He paused at the farm gates to enjoy the cooler breeze of

Wyrmling Ghostwritenew millennium toothache
w feeder hand, aluminum
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supernova falcon flipper -
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fist-fuck photon vision sifter -
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   but I've been following the will'o'wisps
    chasin' knowledge, speed & blame
    try

FuneralFuneral

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But really, as epiphanies went, it was a brilliant one. She couldn't believe she had taken this long to realise it. She was fat. Plain and simple. Mary was much too fat. It explained everything. Her husband had left her for a skinny bitch because she was fat, the universit

Convenience Ducky Short usually avoided using 'convenience' stores. The floors were always grimy, the lighting was too dim for his tired veiny eyes, and the cashiers never spoke more than five words of English. But the thing that irked him most was how every one of them put the Ho-Hos on the very bottom shelf, and every time he would have to find a way to maneuver his long body and old rusty joints into a crouch just so he could reach them.

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avalanche.The Ogre rises up among its brother and sister peaks, the Monk and the Virgin, a craggy limestone buttress looming above most of the north-eastern part of the Bernese Alps.

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She nodded vigorously and a bit of froth flew loose to stick upon a nearby leaf. I watched as it slowly slid its way to the very tip and plopped with a light "thwack" upon the freshly upturned soil.

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Hands FilthifiedMy clean hands are filthified--
I say it as if that were a word,
Without shame.
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I should've, or could've, said dirty,
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Quite softly, behind your twitchy fingers.

But if I say that my once-spotless hands
Are no longer,
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To My CatMy cat's on the bed,
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He just wants to sleep
(Just a tiny bit of sleep)
But the world's too harsh
For such a sweet little thing.
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To complain.
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Grab it by the throat,
Ship it off to Africa, or some uncivilized place like Detroit.
Give it a new name,
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Let them all loose,
Children should be made to play with them, all the day long.
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[CHORUS]

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Trippin' down the stairs
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Keep thinkin' we're gonna be
Somethin' more than we're meant to be?

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[CHORUS]
It's so sick, sick and twisted
Let's not go down this road
Please, get outta my face -
Still, I

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Not a sound in the room, except the wheezings from my wracked lungs.
Dizzying days pass by so slowly in here;
Will they never let me out?

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Hands are feeling better, though maybe I only feel them less.
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Joel is Having a Bad Day

by ~Same-side, Jul 3, 2010, 1:26:18 PM
Literature / Scripts & Screenplays / One-Acts / Drama

(And He Really Needs A Smoke)

CHARACTERS:

JOEL, male, mid-twenties

BILLY, female, late teens to early twenties

Lights up on JOEL and BILLY, who are sitting outside on the back porch. The three or four chairs are mismatched and seem to have been salvaged from the reject pile of a Salvation Army store. A wooden coffee table hails from an indiscernible decade and holds a glass ashtray with dozens of cigarette butts sticking out of it. JOEL is smoking, trying to ignore BILLY.

BILLY
You know, you really shouldn't; I heard somewhere that those things can make your teeth turn to mush and your fingers grow all bendy and twisted. One of my "friends"—she used to smoke a lot, too, and now her voice is so raspy and gritty we call her "Louie."  As in Armstrong.  The "Beautiful World" guy?  Hello, earth to Joel.  Come in, Joel.  Your lungs are…

JOEL
Shove off!

BILLY
Excuse me?

JOEL
I said, shove off.  Beat it.  Leave.

BILLY
I'm just trying to offer a bit of—

JOEL
Either button it, or get out of my face!  All morning you've been yacking on and on with your sanctimonious "Don't smoke, or you're gonna die of cancer" bull.  I'm sick of it.

BILLY
But—

JOEL
Seriously, I don't need this right now.

BILLY
Whatever. (beat) I'm just so sick of this place, the staff always looking sideways at ya, and "Dr. Perfect" Pinkett always asking me "How are you feeling this morning, Billy?"  The way the beds creak at night, I'm getting the most awful nightmares about rocking chairs.  Creak-creak-creak-creak… (beat) And the constant tang of smoke…no offense, but even when there aren't any cigarettes around me, I can still practically feel the tobacco particles forming cancerous polyps in my throat.  The smell of it…is unbearable.

JOEL
Bear it.  Or beat it.

BILLY
You know what?  You can be really insensitive.  Dr. Pinkett says we're supposed to talk through our recovery; well, here I am trying to bare my soul to someone, and here you are being rude to me, not listening to me, telling me to shove off and now I'm really—

JOEL
Is there an end to this sentence?

BILLY
I'm just saying, Joel, what with you being, ya know, the one with "seniority" around here, I would think that you might have a little bit of patience with me.

JOEL
I don't really care to, right now.  In fact, I don't care, period. (beat) I am asking you.  Nicely.  To give me a bit of space.  Do you think you can you do that for me?  Just give me some space.

BILLY
Not if you're gonna keep puffing down those death-sticks.

BILLY coughs.

JOEL
As if you've never lit up.

BILLY
I haven't.

JOEL
Done worse, I bet. (beat) Who are you, Billy? Who are you to judge my having a smoke once in a while?

BILLY
Four packs a day is not "once in a while."

JOEL
Get off my case. Once you've gotten off your "I'm so clean and sober, I'm so much happier, I want to make a new life for myself" buzz and sober up to the fact that life is tough without drugs there to numb the pain, I'll bet you anything in the world you'll start smoking, too, to take the edge off.

JOEL takes a long drag on his cigarette.

It's inevitable.

BILLY
I don't do…didn't use to "numb the pain."  I used to have a good time.  I used 'cus it made me feel free…to be myself. (beat) It just got out of hand, at the end there.  Ya know?

JOEL
Right, sure.  Out of hand.

BILLY
So, what are you thinking about?  If you don't mind my asking?

JOEL
(taunting) If my smoking is so irritating, why don't you go inside? (beat) If you don't mind my asking?

BILLY
I'm sorry; I'll shut up.

BILLY scoots chair.

Give you some space.

Long pause.

JOEL
If you really wanna know, I'm thinking of checking out of here.  Go do something else.

BILLY
What?  Why?  I mean—

JOEL
If you're gonna start pummeling me with questions, and get all "concerned," stop right now.  I'm not in the mood.

BILLY
But—

JOEL
Zip it, or so help me, I will make it so they'll be identifying you by your dental records.  So.  Help.  Me.

BILLY
Wow. (beat) I didn't know you were like that, thought that way.

BILLY coughs.

Wow.

JOEL
There's a lot you don't know. (beat) I've…I'm sorry…I've been having trouble sleeping lately. Kinda grouchy.

BILLY
Nightmares?

JOEL
Sort of.

BILLY
Nightmares about rocking chairs?

JOEL
Huh-what?—No! Where'd—? No, nothing to do with rocking chairs.

JOEL shakes head, looks away.

It's hard to explain. I've been having—I dunno what to call them—these…visions, or more like trances, I guess. They've been bothering me for a while. Pretty much the whole time I've been here, even before. I can barely sleep more than a few minutes before…well, before I start feeling like I'm sinking in cement, and it's pulling me, and—

JOEL stands up, extinguishes cigarette, pulls out another one and sticks it in his mouth.

Never mind. I'm rambling, and this must sound crazy.

BILLY
I don't know about that. Sometimes, I feel crazy myself.

JOEL
I'll bet you do.

JOEL lights cigarette.

BILLY
Say, why do you have to be such a jerk? Would it kill you to be civil?

JOEL
Buzz off.

JOEL sits down, scoots and turns chair away from BILLY.

BILLY
Oh, what's the point?

BILLY walks in front of JOEL, pulls out what looks like a sharpened toothbrush from her pocket and presses it to her wrist.

You wouldn't give one lick if I stabbed myself right here and now, would you?

BILLY holds the toothbrush up to her neck, pressing hard.

You wouldn't even blink watching me gash and cut, watching me bleed, seeing the red drip and squirt. You probably wouldn't even call for a nurse, just sit there, puffing away, not caring. (beat)

BILLY stops pressing, but still holds it up.

But, no. You'd probably find it funny, even quaint, if I tried to take myself out. Much as I hate this place, this life, I refuse to be your entertainer. Nope, ain't happening.

BILLY takes toothbrush from neck-height and holds it down at her side.

JOEL
(indifferent to BILLY's routine) Dying isn't what it's cracked up to be, you know.

BILLY
Hm?

JOEL
Death. Biggest scam in the universe. You think I'm pulling your leg, but it's true. I've been to that carnival in the sky, Billy, and, man, what a racket. If you think this place here is nuts, you don't wanna hear about the other side. Real bad mojo.

BILLY sets toothbrush on coffee table.

BILLY
What're you talking about?  Scams?  Carnivals?  Mojo?  Are you high?

JOEL
Clean as a nun—Or abbot, monk—Whatever the case may be.  I'm just saying if you do decide to "entertain" whoever you think it'll amuse, I'm just warning you that the joke is gonna be on you.  I'd rather go crazy than kill myself.

BILLY
Speaking of sounding crazy, this "death is a carnival" talk doesn't have anything to do with those visions of yours, does it?  I mean, is what—

JOEL
What's it to you what my sleeping habits are?  Huh?  Why do you care so much?  Are you crushing on me?  Huh?  Because I'm having trouble understanding why you seem so interested, Billy.  And I think you should seriously think about investing your time in someone else…someone more amenable to your little messiah-complex (slash) salvation-of-the-lonely mission.  Is that what this is?  You think you can save the world, "one worthless heroin junkie at a time?"  Well, I'm not going to be your project, and I—

BILLY
—I'm interested because you're the only one who doesn't care who I am, Joel! (beat) It's not just the staff who looks at me sideways, like I'm some sort of sideshow attraction; it's all the other people in here, always whispering, "there she is," or "that's Billy what's-her-face," or the ever-popular "did you hear about Billy and so-and-so in the hot-air balloon?"  It's really disgusting. (beat) But you—you don't give a flying fig, and funny as it sounds, I've come to appreciate that about you.  So, no, I'm not "crushing," and you're definitely not some project of mine.  It's hard to define exactly, but do you get what I'm saying?

JOEL
Yeah.  You appreciate the fact that I can't stand you.  Sure.

BILLY
I'm supposedly just in here for my career, but for you, it seems more urgent, more important.  That's why I'm surprised that you're leaving.

JOEL
Thinking of leaving.

BILLY
Thinking of leaving.  I don't get it, though.  Aren't the nightmares—visions, why you came?

JOEL
I told you I don't really want to get into that. (beat) But…

BILLY
—No, it's cool. (to self) Why am I so nosey?

JOEL
You know how we need to hit a bottom before we decide to get clean?  Well, mine wasn't being homeless, it wasn't being cut off from my family; my bottom was dying and going into a coma.

BILLY
Wow. (beat) Wow. (beat) How'd that—?  I…uh, wow. (beat) OD'd?

JOEL
Yeah.  I was already stoned outta my mind, and then I did a huge hit on top of that—too much, obviously.  Miracle the paramedics found me.  Bigger miracle I didn't end up totally gorked out.  Doctors can't really explain it, but they think—ironically—that the purity of that particular batch of smack might've had something to do with it, cushioned the blow somehow.  Bein' dead, even for a couple minutes, was real bad.  I…still can't get my head around that part.  It was… downright trippy.  And then, when I came back to life, or as close to "life" as a coma gets you, the…things started.  During the six months that I was out of it, time didn't really make much sense.  Now and again I heard a voice, but mostly it was just those weird…things—the sinking, pulling feelings.  Maybe they're part of the reason I'm OK, but it sucks, now.  Royally.

BILLY
(affirmatively) I guess so.

BILLY looks at the toothbrush.

JOEL
You don't want to do that.

BILLY
I know; I'm just worried what I'm gonna do with it now. How am I going to get rid of it? I can't just put it back.

JOEL
It's OK; I'll take it to one of the nurses, say I found it out here somewhere. They ought to know I'm not a suicide risk, having already been—

BILLY
—To the carnival in the sky?

JOEL
Something like that.

JOEL and BILLY make eye contact, break it, remake it and smile. Blackout. END OF PLAY

Joel is Having a Bad Dayby ~Same-side

Literature / Scripts & Screenplays / One-Acts / Drama

This is a play I wrote a while ago. It was first performed by Ryan Artzberger (Joel) and Maggie Ferguson-Wagstaffe (Billy) on the Upper Stage at the Indiana Repertory Theatre on 7 July 2010.

Ryan:<[link]>

Maggie:<[link]>

Feedback: Are the instances where Joel talks about death and his experiences on the other side effectively conveyed, or do they come across as cheesy or over-dramatic?

Does Billy's personality come through enough, or is she drowned out by Joel?

How do you feel about the introduction of the sharpened toothbrush? I originally meant it as device to raise the stakes of the moment, but I now wonder whether it goes too far.

How do Billy's threats to hurt herself with it affect you/the play/whatever?

[link]

Daily Deviation

Given 2012-01-31

Joel is Having a Bad Day is an interesting one-act by ~Same-side. ( Featured by $wreckling )

love 2 2

joy 11 11

wow 1 1

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~SuperBeatlesForever May 1, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

HAha this is brilliant! LOVE THIS!!!

=CarmenVeloso Aug 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I wonder what are those beats in the middle of the speeches.

~Same-side Aug 16, 2012 Writer

Pauses, moments of silence.

=CarmenVeloso Aug 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Ahhh!
By the way, I enjoyed it.

~Same-side Aug 16, 2012 Writer

Grazie.

What was your favorite/least favorite part?

=CarmenVeloso Aug 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

The part when she stands up for herself and says frontly what she feels, making he more sensible, was my favourite. I would say my least favourite part was when he was trying to do his thing and she kept on talking about herself. But that is necessary for the story to develope this way. I wouldn't change anything.

~Same-side Aug 17, 2012 Writer

So, I'd say that you sympathize more with Billy than with Joel as a character; is that correct?

=CarmenVeloso Aug 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I don't know. She seems to me kind of annoying, while he is more attractive, because he is mysterious. However, he is kind of arrogant and very sad. I don't know.

=CarmenVeloso Aug 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

[link]

~Same-side Aug 16, 2012 Writer

Cool.

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