“RRRR!!!!” (drama) 1-2 Minutes

Photo Courtesy BRIAN J MATIS

(room is lit as COLD BLUE)

(sound of a Harley Davidson motorcycle roars by.  A distant drip from a faucet 1 second apart per drip.)

(16 seconds of dripping water sound)

(four footsteps, increasing in volume and closeness—before the fifth step, a quick shuffle of the body slowing down to turn handle of door—door bursts open, followed by RUTH’S entrance, followed by her slamming the door)

(room changes color on door slam to bright yellow – HARD)

RUTH: RRRRRRRR!!!!  (she throws her hand bag) RRRR!!! (she picks her hand bag up from the floor—takes out cellphone—makes call)  …KAY!  Kay, it’s me.  Can you, can you talk?? (beat) They won’t let me date him! (half beat) Yeah! They won’t let me go out—because they’re selfish assholes, that’s—they found out from my sister…Yeah, her big fat mouth as usual, always—I’m gonna punch her in the face when—RRRRR!!!!! I can’t! (sighs) What am I going to tell him? (beat) How am I going to explain this to him Kay?? (imitating a dumb version of herself) “I can’t date you cause your black.”  (mockingly) Is that what I should say?  (half beat) I can’t tell him that, I can’t tell him the truth; can’t tell him that my father will kill him and beat my ass cause he’s an uneducated racist—my mother goes along with it cause, I mean, God forbid she ever sticks up for me for once—(sighs) (beat) (moans) I can’t Kay…I hate them all—so alone…they can’t just let me be me, support my choices; IT’S MY LIFE!—Always criticizing me and talking shit—MYSISTERTHERAT—it’s why she gets everything because she brown noses them so bad—spoiled little twerp! (clenching fists) RRRR!!! (pause.) I don’t know what to do.

“Popper’s Red Toilet Seat” (drama) 2 Minutes

Photo Courtesy ZEN

RICKY:  My father used to scare me; he’d get on these drunken binges and come downstairs to my room and tell me stories about how he saw men die—he always used to talk to me about it—not sure if he even remembers—but—it was the only time we ever talked—not sure if it was all the beer talking, probably was; I hated his drinking cause of all the shit it caused between—well, family, but uh, I never hated on the guy cause in a fucked up way I was glad he spoke to me; even if it was always about his war stories, glad he spoke to me.

This one time he told me about how he heard his best friend get blown to dripping blood—his buddy Paulie, yeah, seen pictures of those two bastards in combat—said his friend Paulie went to the john to take a dump, when not even a minute past when the bathroom—which was this shed like building, where all the men shit—was just blown completely up—all that remained was the toilet and Paulie’s blood completely covering the whole thing—it was a red toilet—turns our Paulie had this habit of playing with grenade pins, whenever he was on the shitter—he’d hold the grenade and pop the pin in and out—the stupid son of a bitch blew himself up—total jackass—my father told him to take up reading or something else to occupy his mind while he shat—crazy son of a bitch used to joke about it with all the guys like it was some kind of death prank—well, he got his wish—left behind two kids and a wife, for being an inconsiderate asshole—they nicknamed him Popper for popping the pin on the throne; everybody new he did that and everybody warned him—of course, his wife was told he died in battle, like some kind of hero, like alot of wives been told through the years—they should only know how many men died of stupidity like Popper—yeah, you won’t find those stories in the history books, now will you???

“Sculpture of a Goddess” (tragedy) 2-3 Minutes

Coldness surrounds me.  Ripping tides from winds not of this world prevent my darkest of intentions.  But are they so dark?  Can they be freeing?  Can you free me? From that first instant our eyes connected, two souls emerged and penetrated through the light tunnels of our imaginations.  I felt you.  You felt me.  We knew but knew without pause; we knew but knew with fear.  Our hearts raced on chemicals that produced on its own accord levels of speed we couldn’t comprehend—only enjoy.  Within the context of all this motion, time remained painfully motionless.  We were caught, despite our energies.  Despite our wings!  For time has kept my heart guarded from the impulsive pulses that must be released—that must be realized, for what are we to do but remain idle? 

I have stood on top of the mountain, black clouds swimming around my ears, yellow lightning flashing and striking out my soul—armies advancing, making their tumultuous climb in order to stop me from leaping off into the abyss of fear.  Clap!  Clap!  Crack!  Slap!  Growl! Grumble!  Shake!

I held firm for so long…I denied our right to feel one another.  I robbed myself from your tasty delight.  I wish to taste you, woman.  (pause.)  I desire to explore your world—slowly—I wish to crawl over you like a suction of lust, popping and squeezing and slobbering up and down your skin like the animal that I sweat to be.  (beat.)  Oh, RELEASE ME!!!!  (beat.)  My troubles are condemned to the lowest depth of being human.  Agony, treachery, disgusted reasoning; preventing me all this time from your warm

—

OH, should I stop???  Have I taken my admission too far???  Should I have remained a man without a tongue?  Even then I couldn’t stop my heart from speaking out—I must know your answer…

That one particular morning, when I slept over the house, on the couch, you came downstairs wearing a white cotton robe; white bra and pink panties.  We sat for breakfast; that I watched you make—peering at you from the table—getting extremely hard and trying to deny myself my urges to grab you and insert myself inside of you.

We sat—we ate and your robe was magically opened.  You ignored the breeze and allowed me, I think, to look at your package; your milky white breasts perked for attention and my eyes sizzled into the temptation of both of them!

I covered you further with my eyes as you crossed your legs and allowed your robe to reveal more of your body.  Your thighs glistened between the muscle and bone from the sun’s rays, piercing through the front living room window.  You asked me to draw the shades—I did with difficulty as I had not given my hard-on a shift to a safe place.  You smiled as you watched me struggle through it, didn’t you?  You enjoyed my confusion and torture.  Didn’t you?  I shut the blinds and when I turned around, realized in your entirety how undressed you were–how beautifully aroused you became.  Sculpture of a Goddess.

Remember our stare?  I should have taken you then…I should have hoisted you up and slammed you down on that kitchen table and railed myself against your soft, sensuous body. I know you are delicate.  I pictured us attacking one another, dishes of food crashing on the floor, chairs being knocked over and our bones thumping against the table as we pursued our ecstasy.  I wanted your legs wrapped around mine desperately—my penis pulsating—my gut groaning—our lips smothering eachother and you shouting, “Fuck Me”, “Fuck Me”.

(pause.)

But I didn’t; I held the reins back as hard as I could—getting ill and losing my morning appetite as I witnessed the twinkle in your eye go out—I died with you…My intellect buried our passion so deep that I have been choking and vomiting up wet dirt ever since.  I cannot breathe, cannot think, cannot see or feel—nothing exists for me—I’ve locked myself up into a world of nothingness, where ghosts tap me on the shoulder and whisper evil deeds in my ears and all that remains is a numbing vibration in my ribcage that creates a beat to the song of my own destruction.

I have just realized that even now, after coming here and bearing all to you, that even now it wasn’t enough to wake me—I have truly died and have become a spirit, doomed to haunt myself for all eternity…

I am sorry to have wanted and not to have acted—I am sorry for erasing what should have been written.

(pause.)

I am gone.

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