scene 1
My first scene is done and edited! Wow, that was at times painful, amazing, frustrating and difficult. But here is my baby, and thank you to
allfireburns for beta-ing.
SCENE 1
Dim gray lighting on the stage, pitch black back ground. A little girl peeks around the edge of the curtain at stage left. She peeks again and then runs out to center stage. It’s DEATH, wearing a much too big white collared men’s shirt as a dress. She’s barefoot. She looks nervously and excitedly around at the audience and then runs off. She exits stage right.
Blackout.
Lights up on ANDY and ROD's apartment set. Brick background, teetering piles of books and magazines, an empty easel, pill bottles, pens and other junk on the floor. ANDY leans over a small table at stage left, looking at a bill. ROD is sitting in a tattered armchair at stage right, his legs folded up.
ANDY:
Uh...what's eleven hundred times twelve?
ROD: Laughs.
How am I supposed to know? Get a goddamn calculator.
ANDY: (Sarcastically)
Thanks.
ROD: Leaning back.
No problem.
ANDY:
Get me the calculator.
ROD:
It's under the counter.
ANDY:
Get me the fucking calculator!
ROD: (Slightly taken aback but amused)
Jesus.
ANDY:
Or say goodbye to your laundry.
ROD:
That's out of bounds and you know it.
ANDY:
I can't do it this afternoon anyways. You have an appointment.
ROD:
What?
ANDY:
You have an appointment.
ROD: (Defensively.)
No, I don't.
ANDY:
You know what I mean.
ROD:
So you do the laundry and I'll go.
ANDY turns to face ROD, opens his mouth as if to say something and then closes it.
ROD:
What?
ANDY:
I can do it tomorrow.
ROD:
I'm running out of clothes.
ANDY:
Don't be like that.
ROD:
You wanna smell this?
ANDY:
I'll go with with you.
ROD:
I'm not a fucking baby.
ANDY:
So do your own laundry.
ANDY gets up and walks across the stage, past ROD. He exits stage right. ROD turns his head and watches him leave.
End of scene.