In strange short script Clock and Tree, two men sit on a bench and discuss things that seem to have meaning for them. Drama. Tragi-comedy. Absurd. 2 Men, 1 Woman.
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Clock and Tree
Tree: Why do you stare into that wall all day? What do you see?
Clock: I see a fabulous nothing.
Tree: Oh. I get it.
Clock: I don’t.
Tree: Yeah, you do.
Clock: I do…
Tree: So, I see you are achieving nothing at all today.
Clock: Another day of nothing at all.
Clock: Yippy yep.
Clock: HA! (beat) I don’t know what to do with myself today. Today, is the worst day for me. I have so much anger inside myself.
Tree: I know.
Clock: Of course you do.
Tree: I do.
Clock: So pissed off.
Tree: Throw it away.
Clock: I wish I could go out into the world and go rogue. Start randomly beating the shit out of people who deserve it and get chased by an army of hit men, to see how long I will last.
Tree: Like a video game.
Clock: I want the challenge. I want to see what I’m made of.
Tree: That’s the spirit.
Clock: And when I die, I get to come back and try something else that I don’t have to give a damn about either.
Tree: The consequences.
Clock: Yes, yes, yes. Bastards.
Clock: I’m a savage.
Tree: Raging lunatic.
Clock: I can be.
Tree: Why don’t you worry more?
Clock: I can’t.
Tree: Of course you can. Worry more and punch yourself in the face.
Clock: Should I?
Tree: Just do it. Stop being such a bitch about it.
Tree: One good blow.
Clock: Can I kick you in your ass?
Tree: Getting windy.
Clock: Makes my eyebrows flap.
Tree: You’re a real—
Tree: Googa googa goo.
Clock: How long is this going to go on?
Tree: Everyone averages out.
Clock: What’s the Goddamn point?
Tree: Sing me a song.
Clock: Choke yourself.
Tree: It’s a fabulous Wednesday.
Clock: I hurt my knee.
Tree: When is fart man coming?
Clock: Fart man? He should have been here by now.
Tree: Is he going to bring his bag of farts?
Clock: That’s what he said.
Tree: How many do you imagine he will bring?
Clock: Four, maybe five farts.
Tree: That’s it?
Clock: I assume.
Tree: Cheap bastard.
Clock: You shouldn’t say that.
Tree: Who comes over and only brings four or five farts?
Clock: If he brought a box, he quite possibly could squeeze seven or eight.
Tree: Tell him to bring a box then.
Clock: You tell him.
Tree: Why is it always up to me?
Clock: Grow some balls.
Tree: Imagine he brings ten farts?
Clock: Holy shit.
Tree: That would be sick.
Clock: Yeah. Ten farts go such a long way.
Clock: You know, when I look at you, I’m torn between.
Tree: Torn between, what?
Clock: Nothing! This isn’t going anywhere you know.
Tree: I don’t care.
Clock: All you can do is talk about farts. You are so shit.
Tree: Just because you don’t like farts doesn’t mean I can’t encourage and embrace them.
Edna: Here I am.
Tree and Clock place there heads down and freeze.
Good, good. You little dirty rodents. Didn’t think I’d be back so soon, did you? Here I am! Spin, spin, spin. I’m gone.
Clock: That was close.
Tree: This is dumb. I’m going home.
Clock: You have no home. None of us do. We think we do, but we don’t.
Tree: Well, I can kid myself, can’t I?
Clock: You can kid yourself all day long. Doesn’t mean you have a home.
You don’t have a job, a friend, a family, a dog…nothing really.
Tree: What do I have?
Clock: Nothing. Just activities to pass the time. Idiot.
Tree: If I am, so are you.
Clock: I am. We all are.
Fringe walks in.
Clock: Did you bring some?
Fringe: I brought five.
Clock: My heart is not in this anymore.
Tree: Five is better than none.
Fringe farts five times.
Fringe: There you go.
Tree: That’s what we get.
Clock: Five on the button.
Clock and Tree: THE END.
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