“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.

“The Sound of Slippers” (drama) 3 Minutes

Photo Courtesy LEX IN THE CITY

 

AUNT EDNA:   Stage is empty — black.  A woman’s voice is heard offstage right.  The sound of slippers produced from her mouth when she moves. Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge, Ssscccuge,  Ssscccuge.  She is now seen centerstage rear.  Pause.  No movement.  She continues onstage.  The sound of slippers.  Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge, Ssscccuge,  Ssscccuge.  She stops abruptly further downstage center.  Pause.  She pants.  Pause.  She stares straight out to the audience in a daze.  A white beam of light turns on from the rear of the stage, creating a large—Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge! She moves further down stage center.  She abruptly stops.  Pause.  She stares straight out to the audience in a daze.  Beat.  An elderly woman.  Beat.  She stands center stage utterly, EXHAUSTED.  She breathes three hard exhales—haaah-haaah-haaah. Pause.  She slowly brings the heavy bag she carries down towards the ground.  When she finally releases the bag, her body remains slightly hunched over to her left side, too tired to stand straight up.  Her hand and arm dangle inches away from the bag below.  Her fingers wiggle.  Pause.  Her face is wrinkled and miserable, almost appearing as if she could be wearing a mask.  Rubbery.  A weathered face with lipstick smeared heavily over her lips.  Her hair is enormously high and thick and gray, causing her thin and bony body to be more noticeable.  Her clothes are tight to her body.  For pants she wears spandex and for a shirt she wears a grey turtle neck sweater.  Let’s not forget about those kicking six inch heels!  Her fingers wiggle.  Three seconds go by.  She abruptly stops wiggling her fingers.

Long Pause.  This is Edna…I am Edna. Long Pause. I continue to stare blankly out. Beat. I blink by opening my eyes wide and closing them slowly, opening my eyes wide and closing them slowly.  I do this a few times with long black fake eyelashes.  Pause.  I tilt my head as I speak mechanically, PERIOD

DOT DOT DOT He went out and bought me a pair of midgets EXCLAMATION  Crazy ass nephew of mine; from the land of the littles, little my ass EXCLAMATION  I wrestled those little tykes back to their native land.  Showed them who’s boss.  Good ole’ Edna still got it!  Sure, one of ‘em knocked one of my teeth out; not sure which one but certainly one of them did.  Felt more like an object than a knuckle.  I’ve been hit before, so I would know and it sure as hell didn’t feel like no midget punch that’s for sure.  That’s for sure, alright.  That’s for sure. Beat Period

Pause. Caaaa daaaaca couldn’t even bi caca because if he came from the front I would have STOMPED out the little fucker.  I would have stomped and jumped and bounced and dragged my feet up and down his spinal cord and I would have cracked each and every vertebrae I could dig my six inch heels into and craaaaa and kaaaa and dgraaa, gaaaa DAAA!  Beat Period

I would have.  Even though the other one was kinda cute and I didn’t mind him so much when he was munchy munchy munchy krab krab craaa out my back.  Felt nice.  Truly and genuinely I could not say this any more sincerely as I possibly can but it was GRAND.  The little bastard was the biggest yet, the biggest; yet…go figure, mysteries of life. 

Long Pause.  This is Edna…I was Edna. Long Pause.

She picks up the bag she set down earlier.  Slowly; mechanically.  Her posture evens out and is no longer slumped to one side.  She slwoly turns around.  Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge!  Pause.  She pants.  Pause.  The white beam of light turns off.  She moves.  The sound of slippers is produced from her mouth.  Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge, Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge.  She abruptly stops.  She let’s out a painful moan.  Ooooooooo…Oooooooooo!  Pause.  She walks.  Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge, Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge.  Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge, Sssccccuge  Sssccccuge!  Pause.  She is no longer seen.  She is offstage center right.  All that is left is her voice.   Pause.  The stage is empty — black.

“5 Simple Steps: Cooking Your Brain” (comedy) 2-3 Minutes

Photo Courtesy MANSION WB

 

COOK:   (Going down checklist on piece of paper)  Let’s see…I have, this…this…this…this, this, this.  

(pause.)

Good.  Okay, good.

(beat)

(reads directions aloud quickly)

Take red marker and draw even line around the circumference…(to himself) DID THAT.  (reading directions)  Baaa baaaa baaa.  OKAY, place chainsaw evenly against forehead and begin cutting…

(to himself)

How the hell am I going to do that without…(aggravated sigh)  Cut evenly, cut evenly. Okay…(puts chainsaw up to his forehead)  Let me see now.  Okay, that feels about even.

(brings chainsaw down and reads directions quickly)

Turn chainsaw on keeping steady as not to go off red marked line.  Hmmm mmmm hmmm mmmm.  Circle head circumference three full times moving clockwise and a fourth time counter clockwise.

Then sit down and grin.

In one swift pluck, grab skull above red line and remove.  (to himself)  Okay.  (back to reading directions)  Place removed skull into bin.  Gently go inside exposed skull and carefully tear out brain….while saying the phrase, “WHICH WAY DID HE GO GEORGE, WHICH WAY DID HE GO?”, three times.

Walk over to your stove.  Dip brain into boiling hot water fooooooooooor ten full minutes.  Take brain out and place into pan.  Be sure to make sure that the flame under pan is on.  Caress the brain with olive oil.  Add onion, salt, pepper, shallots; stir fry.

Poke the brain around with a spatula.  Do it clumsy.  Watch blood leak out and bubble.  

(pause.)

Make your own intelligence is well done…

(pause.)

(continues reading directions aloud)

Add cinnamon if you desire for additional flavor.  Chop up brain, silly.  Chop, chop, chop away until the break of day and let’s say that we should play until the month of may but can you honestly say that you’ve been laid in so long you are wrong because if you haven’t than you haven’t eaten brains because the brains make you, ELECTRIFIED with sexual charisma.  

(beat)

Taste.  YUM.  That’s good.  Brain is so good.  Monkey brains.  I am a monkey brain. Doggy brains.  Brains.  Medium rare brains.  Brains.  Raw brains, not so good but well done brains; best brains for best flavor.  

(stops reading the directions)

(to himself) 

These directions don’t make sense!

(calls friend)

Eh Dan, big D what’s up brotha?  Listen, when you cooked your brain, did you feel electrified?  Cause, I remember you told me you felt dignified.  Was it dignified or electrified?  Cause I bought the same recipe you told me about and…  (he listens)  Ohhh; Ohhh I see.  Shit.  So I got the wrong recipe???  Aww Man I can’t have the wrong recipe bro because I have Caitlyn coming over tonight and I made it sound like I know how to cook and you know I don’t, you know I am the biggest joke in the kitchen.  Huh?  (he listens)  YES, it does say add cinnamon…Don’t add cinnamon?  Oh yeah?  Than I’ll feel dignified?  You sure?  Okay, cause this girl Caitlyn is a real brainy chick and I need to feel dignified enough for her so…(he listens)  You sure?  NO CINNAMON and what?  SPINACH JUICE???  Where the;  dude, it’s like eight thirty and she’s coming over in like twenty minutes or;  I really need spinach juice?  What the fuck is spinach juice man, I never heard of spinach juice in all my life?  Are you playing around?  Okay, okay, okay…(sighs)  I don’t know where…well, what happens if I don’t get spinach juice bro?  Hello?  YEAH, I said, what happens if I don’t get the spinach juice bro?

Come on man, just look it up online real quick for me cause my hands are tied…real quick, thanks, THANKS man.  Thanks.  

(long pause.)

Yeah…STIGNIFIED?  Wait, you said, STIGNIFIED, right?  Bro, that’s perfect!  Forget the spinach juice crap and let’s go with;  Did you know?  I bet we both just made the discovery, right?  (he chuckles)  Yeah boy, that’s dope.  Listen, listen, I’ll tell you after everything how it feels.  Okay?  Okay?  Bro, this girl is going to be so impressed tonight.  Alright, listen, let me run, thanks for your help and I’ll call you later.  Yeah, yeah, call you later on or tomorrow, I’ll just call you tomorrow.  Okay, okay.  PEACE.

(he hangs up phone)

(to himself)...No cinnamon…

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