In this short playscript, WALDO gets a visit from his brother RALLYE and a serio-comic scene ensues.
Waldo, is stoned out of his mind. He hasn’t let up in days. He talks outloud to himself in a trance.
WALDO: Hello, invisible friend, my imaginary, YOU. Nothings clear…engulfed with circling my mind with madness…I find myself lost, awake but not conscious, my brain exudes neuron flashes, vibrating, trying to ignite me, stir me to something I could be…this isn’t my life…I’ve lost myself, I’ve lost my direction, I’ve gone–
An exploding knock snaps Waldo out of his melodramatic babble.
Waldo opens the door.
Rallye barges in past Waldo.
RALLYE: Smells like a whore’s asshole in here!
WALDO: Hello, Rallye…I was writing. What’s—
RALLYE: I was knocking for ten minutes this time.
WALDO: You want a beer or something, you seem a bit high strung—
RALLYE: You forgot what today was?
WALDO: …What’s today?
RALLYE: …Our father’s funeral.
WALDO: …Oh, shit…yeah, I uh, I know.
RALLYE: Why didn’t you come?
WALDO: I’m still going.
RALLYE: We’ve already buried him. Two hours ago!!
WALDO: Right, well…well, I plan on going, after everything, on my own time…how’s Mom?
RALLYE: Try calling her and you will find out. (beat) I just came by cause, I don’t know…I just came by. I gotta head back to the city.
They stare at one another.
RALLYE: What the hell is wrong with you anyway? You’re supposed to be this great big writer. Dad was your biggest cheerleader and now look at yourself. Going nowhere! Achieving nothing! I go to work each day, busting my ass, raising a family…I own a house!
WALDO: Yes, you do, you own a house, Rallye.
RALLYE: And you fart around all day in your robe, your place stinks, you smell like cheesedoodles and you have achieved nothing in your life. You are a failure!
WALDO: I write.
RALLYE: You what?
WALDO: I write.
RALLYE: You write. What do you write? Why can’t anyone see it?
WALDO: It’s not good.
RALLYE: So quit and get a real job!
WALDO: It’s not good cause I’m revising it, shaping it into something…I hope.
RALLYE: Life isn’t about hope, Waldo. Life is facts. Stop dreaming. It’s been long enough. Keeping your head in the clouds. Grow up and take some responsibility for your existence before you completely waste away.
WALDO: I don’t know…
RALLYE: You don’t know what?
WALDO: I don’t know why you’re always such an asshole to me.
RALLYE: You’re the asshole!
WALDO: You treat me bad.
RALLYE: I’m fed up with you getting away with everything. You can never do wrong. You don’t even get confronted for not attending your own father’s funeral! What kind of son are you? Didn’t he mean anything to you? (beat) You’re fucked up and you’re wrong and I seem to be the only one who gives a damn to tell you the truth and put you in your place! You don’t deserve the family treatment you get. Like you’re somebody special. Wake up cause you’re not!! You hear me?!
WALDO: …Thanks, for sharing your opinion of who I am in your eyes.
RALLYE: What is that sarcasm now?
WALDO: I don’t appreciate the fact that you find my actions deplorable and need to justify your assholeness towards me as an excuse to cover up the fact that you don’t have the passion to aspire to be something more than what you’ve become.
RALLYE: Excuse me? I’m completely content with my life.
RALLYE: You think I’m not content? I’m content. I’m wildly happy!
WALDO: Right. Are we done?
RALLYE: I’m happy.
WALDO: You’ve told me.
RALLYE: Yeah but I want you to know it.
WALDO: If you say you are happy, I accept your happiness.
RALLYE: You think making a compromise is the big evil, like you’re going against your deep values or something. Some higher bullshit purpose. Right? What a joke. That’s not living life brother, that’s a fantasy and a ruined life…a waste of time and space and a disappointment to our father and our family. That’s who the fuck you are Waldo and always will be.
WALDO: So, we’re all happy.
Both brothers stare at one another. Rallye leaves.
Yes…we are all happy. Happy. Happy as can be.