The Monday Morning Black Cloud 03.08.04


Sorry about this guys. My dad went into the hospital for hip surgery on Friday and between visiting him and helping out around the house and working I haven’t had much time to even think about a report. Instead, I’ll give you Gloomchen and Randle and a one-act play I wrote. That oughta do it. If it’s too long, Widro will divide it into two pages. Double the hits! Maybe.

Oh, and a special goodbye to Seth Monroe. You were a prick from the beginning to the end. You taught me to investigate people before I stand up for them.

Now here’s Gloomchen with

Nihilism and Cupcakes

So you’re having a baby.

Or, maybe you’re not having a baby. Maybe someone close to you is having a baby; maybe a relative, maybe a friend, maybe your 14 year old neighbor. Either way around it, someone is always having a baby. The world just keeps growing, as insane numbers from around the globe will often remind us.

I see this every day and wonder, why does everyone have to breed?

Many religions put a high value on procreation — hell, for some of them, that seems to be the only thing they truly care about. Pop out eight, they say, that way our religion will grow in numbers! Don’t throw that Saran Wrap over your dick, that’s blasphemy of the highest order! YOU MUST CREATE MINIONS FOR THE LORD!

Many families, simply through tradition, teach their children that all they want in life is to create more life. These children might not even stop and think, later on, whether or not they actually want progeny. All they know is that step one is to go to school, step two is to get married, and step three is to spawn. That’s just what you do.

Other people are simply enamored by and in love with children that all they can think about is having one or twelve of their own. I guess I can relate — even at a young age, I started listening to Pink Floyd and before I knew it, I’d bought every single one of their albums. Who cares if I was old enough to understand what I was doing? I wanted some Pink Floyd of my very own! Luckily, I was responsible enough to take care of all of those CDs. But the children, on the other hand…

The community in which I live isn’t overwhelmingly working-class or below. We’re in Iowa, so what is poor for you folks on the east coast is more than enough here. You could live here and raise a small family on a two-income full-time fast-food wage if you needed to. So, although we’re far from cultured around these parts, we certainly don’t have ghettos, either. There are drug addicts and whatnot just like anywhere else, but even most of them seem to be able to sustain a decent living.

Anyway, my problem isn’t with the poor folk. My issue is when I go to Olive Garden and children are shrieking, throwing food all over the place, and their parents sit there with television commercial grins on their faces, either ignoring the problem entirely or saying, “THAT’S OKAY!” These aren’t the gutter children. These are the middle-class progeny. And better yet, I’ll see them all again at Applebee’s next weekend, behaving the exact same way.

I have bigger issues than just this. Yes, kids will be kids, and that’s fine. But I can’t remember at any time in my childhood when I was every doing anything so far outside of an adult’s grasp that I could get away with it. I was far from an angel, but for the most part, my demonic actions never really affected anyone outside of my own household. In public, I had friggin’ wings. And if I didn’t, my ass got a paddle and it was a good chunk of time before I got to venture out in public again.

Meanwhile, kids are running up and down the block of my old neighborhood lighting firecrackers and throwing them at each other. They’re vandalizing street signs. They’re pulling flowers out of the neighbor’s garden, they’re pushing around the smaller kids, they’re running out in the middle of traffic to watch the cars squeal their tires trying not to hit them. Oh, their parents are all home, as their shitty cars in the driveway will attest. But dammit, Survivor is on! You don’t screw with Survivor!

As a female who has sworn since age nine to never, ever, ever, EVER have children, it’s entirely possible that these types of scenes irritate me more than the average person, particularly one who has raised children and knows the pain and anguish of hogtying the little munchkins whenever they misbehave. Maybe they can excuse children running around grocery stores, playing tag and bouncing balls from the other side of the store all over the meat department. Perhaps they can explain to me the pressures of stopping your children from playing in construction zones while they sit and watch television. Someone better get on that, honestly, because I really don’t understand it.

Maybe I was just spoiled as a kid. You know, I had parents (rephrase — a mother, really just one parent for most of my childhood) who cared about me enough to spank me when I did things that were really bad, or at least made me stand in the corner if I hit another kid. I had a mother who taught me table manners and only took me out to eat in public places if I was on my best behavior. I had a mother who made me come inside when the streetlights came on, made me ask permission to leave the yard or lose outside privileges, or otherwise sat outside and WATCHED me when I was to young to understand those things. Yeah, looking out my car window when I drive home everyday and have to swerve to miss the rails and ramps that the skateboarding children have put up in the middle of the avenue, all I can think to myself is that I sure was spoiled rotten.

I’m finding fewer examples of good parenting every day and am growing increasingly unable to stifle my mutterings of “BEAT YOUR CHILDREN” every time I encounter a child screaming bloody murder in the middle of Wal-Mart. Yet everyone keeps popping the damned things out. From ages 12 to 42, more girls/women are filling the world with these demon spawn that grow up without discipline. Were they around when I was a kid? Oh, hell yes. Was it in my face every single day that I walked outside my door back then? If the answer was yes, you think I’d be used to it by now.

Dammit already. Breeders of the world, I cry to you know: if you can’t care about anyone other than yourself, stick a cork in it. Stop subjecting your hellraising crotchdroppings on poor innocent folks like myself. Darwin thanks you in advance.


The Short Sports Report with Stephen Randle

That’s right, it’s snowing once more, and it’s time for more sports with me, the greatest thing to come out of Canada since that mad cow out in Alberta. Yeah, that’ll teach you to trust Canadians. Let’s move on, shall we?

The Mouth of the South(west), Terrell Owens, having alienated everyone on the San Francisco 49ers, and after failing to remember to file paperwork that would make him a free agent, was eventually traded to the Baltimore Ravens for what amounts to a tackling dummy and a bag of footballs. But the stupidity doesn’t end there, as apparently the NFLPA is trying to void the trade, based on well, actually, I’m not quite sure what their reason is. From what I’ve figured out, it has something to do with Owens wanting to go to Philadelphia instead. Now THAT doesn’t make a lick of sense. I don’t give a damn where he wants to play, he was under contract to the 49ers (by his own mistake, no less), and they chose to trade him to Baltimore, and thus, he is now property of Baltimore. Pretty much a textbook definition of a trade between two teams. I don’t see where the NFLPA even has a case. But then, he’s a high-priced loudmouth who can catch the ball when he feels like it, so I assume he’ll get his way eventually.

The NHL trade deadline hits on Tuesday, but there’s not much left out there, since Sergei Gonchar and Brian Leetch have been sent to Boston and Toronto, respectively. There are still players available, but most of the sellers have divested the majority of their big contracts, and everything else will likely come at a bigger price. Except for the Rangers, of course, who are full up with big contracts that they want to dump. Too bad Lindros hurt himself this week, essentially making him untradeable before the deadline. Not that he was particularly tradeable before, but there was some interest, anyway.

And what kind of world do we live in where, even for a brief time, the Tampa Bay Lightning sit atop the Eastern Conference?

And more hockey news, as Bobby Clarke, hockey’s resident psychotic GM, delivered a curse-filled tirade against coach Jacques Martin of the Ottawa Senators and his shady player choices at the end of a Flyers-Senators game. Clarke felt that Martin chose to put out grinders at the end of a game that was out of reach, in order to take out some of Philly’s skilled players. Now, remember that I hate the Ottawa Senators more than is humanly possible, but Clarke is just insane. First of all, Philadelphia is one of the toughest teams in the league. Secondly, well, Ottawa doesn’t have any real grinders. There’s a reason why people thought adding Bondra, another fancy European sniper, was overkill.

Speaking of crazy people, John Henry Williams, the son of Ted Williams, he of the cryogenic freezing debate, has passed away at the age of 35. No word on whether or not he also wished to be frozen, but I’m sure you might find some people who would prefer a more traditional method for the man who fought with his family over the corpse of Teddy Ballgame. Namely, throwing the body in a ditch and waiting for the wolves to show up.

I suppose I should mention that the preceding statement was solely the opinion of me, and no one else. Such a statement was obviously controversial, and if you are easily offended, it is recommended that you should not have read it.

And BALCO has said that they never gave steroids to Barry Bonds. Well, that’s a load off my mind. I mean, it’s not like anyone would lie about something like that. This is certainly a vindication for bulked-up ballplayers everywhere. I mean, that clears up the entire problem, right?

My God, who left my sarcasm generator on?

And on that note, let’s throw it back to Grut. After all, if he goes too long without saying anything, he gets a little strange. Er.

The Saddest Clown

This is an unfinished work I started years ago. I haven’t finished the onstage dialogue, but most everything else I’ve written can be found on the Internet. Just try to imagine the reactions of the actors as you read it. Let me know if you think I should finish it or let it die. Enjoy.

(Lights up on a black box in the center of the stage. Marcusilus, wearing white and black make-up and white tights, dances out from stage left. He perches himself on the box and begins to loudly sob. Shenelalo and Huntress, both dressed similarly, follow him out and go to either side of him and take hold of his hand. Marcusilus stops crying.)

Marcusilus: One day I shall know why I cry.

Shenelalo: Who says you will ever know why?

Marcusilus: I found a coin.

Shenelalo and Huntress: Ooh, was it yellow like the sun?

Huntress: Or black as the night in a storm of controversy?

Marcusilus: Huntress, AWAY! Your treachery helps me not.

Shenelalo: I am Shenelalo.

Marcusilus: I am Marcusilus, the sad clown.

Shenelalo and Huntress: Weep, sad clown, weep.

Marcusilus: Away with you, Huntress! You defy my law of magnetism.

Huntress: Yet still you love me, though I love my sister Shenelalo and cannot hurt her.

Shenelalo: We are linked within the Earth’s Core, she and I. Still I love you, Marcusilus, my keeper of my garden.

Marcusilus: Sisters of the garden, I weep for the loss of one of you, and thus I must never venture back to the garden in which we laid. (Cell phone in the audience rings.)

Justin: Sorry! Sorry. One sec. (Justin stops the ringing. Marcusilus glares at him, and then continues.)

Marcusilus: The garden is treacherous and filled with many traps.

Shenelalo: Then lay with me outside the garden.

Huntress: Dare you, thus ending our turmoil of strife and nothingness?

Marcusilus: Then who will dry my tears? MOTHER!

Huntress: Mommy.

Shenelalo: Mom.

Marcusilus: Mo.

Huntress: M, which stands for Marcusilus!

Marcusilus: End your game and leave this place Huntress!

Huntress: Not without my fool’s reward.

Shenelalo: She defies your will, Marcusilus. She knows I will never leave her side.

Huntress: If only it was true, but she would leave my love for the peaks of you.

Marcusilus: The peaks of me are hard to scale, but you should know. You scaled them once.

Huntress: And never again, for the flowers of beauty have grown in the fall. My fall was ugly and without flowers.

Marcusilus: Most falls are.

Shenelalo: I long to scale the peaks again and break my fall upon a cloud.

Huntress and Shenelalo: The cloud is cold and soft and white.

Marcusilus: I weep for you all day and night! (Justin’s cell phone goes off again. Shenelalo looks really embarrassed. Marcusilus looks pissed. Justin turns it off, checks it and goes out. As he is exiting, he whispers sorry. When he’s outside, he should be talking very loudly so he can be heard. The actors should look incredibly annoyed and talk loudly to compete with him. The lines should overlap one another.)

Marcusilus: My cloud is warm and filled with sweat!

Huntress: The sweat is filled with salt and tears.

Justin: Hello? HELLO! (Shouting for rest of conversation.) I can’t hear you. I’m not getting any reception. One second.

Marcusilus: The, umm, the salt and tears, they come from you, Huntress!

Huntress: You earned them, fool! Where’s my fool’s prize? It lies within my sister’s eyes.

Justin: I can hear you now! What? No. No, I’m at my girlfriend’s play. MY GIRLFRIEND’S PLAY! She’s onstage right now. I should get back in there. I SHOULD GET BACK IN THERE!

Shenelalo: BUT where is the prize of which you speak. In my eyes? In my soul? In my

Justin: Yeah, I can’t come to the party. I CAN’T COME TO THE PARTY! We’re going out afterwards or something. What did you say?

Shenelalo: IN MY SOUL? In my heart?

Justin: I CAN’T COME TO THE PARTY! I CAN’T! I haven’t seen him in months. How’s he doing? HOW’S HE DOING?

Shenelalo: (Mumbling) Oh my God. I’m sorry.

Huntress: It’s in your eyes, my sister dear. I see it there.

Shenelalo and Huntress: It’s yours for the taking, Marcusilus the clown.

Marcusilus: You made me weep once, not ever again.

Justin: That’s great. Does he still have that thing on his neck? ON HIS NECK! He had it removed, that’s good. What? WHAT? Oh, it’s okay. It’s a bunch of one acts. The first one was kind of repetitious, but the second one was pretty funny. THE SECOND ONE WAS PRETTY FUNNY! IT WAS FUNNY! FUNNY! (Trish enters from stage left, goes down the stairs and out the door.)

Huntress: It’s all the tears you cried I caused, but (Trish speaks. She has a microphone on. We are able to hear the entire conversation. This may be accomplished via a tape recorded performance. The actors freeze in horror and Stage Hand runs out after Trish after her third line.)

Trish: Excuse me.

Justin: One second.

Trish: Can you please hang up your phone and keep your voice down?


Trish: Please come with me. (Sound of a door opening. Then the sound of another door opening and closing.)

Marcusilus: The terrors of my tears keep me awake at night, but you

Justin: Can we make this quick? I’ve got to get back in the theater. My girlfriend’s in the play.

Trish: Well, I directed the play and my boyfriend’s in the play, and I’d like to ask you to leave.

Justin: I’m not going anywhere! I came out from Long Island to see this thing!

Trish: You are not allowed back in the theater.

Justin: I’m sorry about the cell phone, it’s new. I don’t know how to work it.

Trish: It’s not about the cell phone. You were shouting right outside the door! You pretty much ruined most of the show before it began!

Marcusilus: I apologize, Shenelalo and Huntress. The Gods are loud and ungentle. (Stagehand re-enters.)

Stagehand: (Whisper shout.) I can’t find them!

Marcusilus: (Whisper shout) Then turn the microphone off! Now, where were we, you wicked sisters of the past and present?

Justin: I’m sorry, I got bad reception. Look, it’s off. Can I go back in?

Trish: You ruined my show! I’m not letting you back in!

Justin: You’re not going to stop me from seeing my girlfriend! I promised her I’d be there. I have to be there! It’s very important.

Trish: If you don’t leave right now I’m going to get security and we’ll see you out.

Justin: Why are you being such a bitch?

Marcusilus: The Gods are confusing! Why can we still hear the Gods! I beseech you, spirits of the stage, make it so that we cannot hear the Gods anymore!

Stage Hand: I can’t.

Trish: Excuse me? Did you just call me a bitch?

Justin: Is that what I just said?

Marcusilus: What do you mean you can’t turn it off?

Stage Hand: The girl screwed it all up when she set it up. If I turn off the sound, the lights go off and we won’t be able to get them back on unless we can get to the light board under the stage. It’s too complicated, trust me.

Trish: I think that’s what you just said, I’m not sure if I heard you correctly.

Justin: You heard me correctly, BITCH! (Slap sound is heard. Silence.)

Marcusilus: What should we do?

Stagehand: Keep going. I’ll try to find them. Folks, I am so sorry about this. (Stagehand exits.)

Shenelalo: Marcusilus, we were talking about your peaks.

Marcusilus: Okay, we’re going to continue. No, we were discussing my cloud, which is warm and filled with sweat, which is filled with salt and tears which you caused, Huntress.

Huntress: I may That may be so, but it’s your own doing.

Trish: Stop staring at me like that. What? What, you want to hit me?

Justin: I don’t hit ladies, but you slapped me. That is not cool. (Slap sound heard again.)

Trish: You want another one? Now get the hell out of the building! You ruined my show, and now you’re hurting my hand. Go! (Another slap is heard.) Aww. You’re getting all red. That is so cute. You look so cute all red and angry. What’s the matter? You want to hit me? Go ahead. Go ahead, you bitch! Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked on this show, and you think that you can just leave your cell phone on and shout while my boyfriend is on stage? Is that what you think, you little pussy? I dare you to take a swing at me. I double dare (A thud is heard.)

Shenelalo: The ice of your love is cold but crystal clear, Marcusilus.

Marcusilus: What?

Shenelalo: The ice of your love is cold and crystal clear.

Marcusilus: Oh. Umm. The feel of your brow is wet.

Shenelalo: No it’s not.

Marcusilus: Right. It’s hard and soft yet makes me yearn for Huntress’ past.

Huntress: My past is filled with the bosom of youth.

Marcusilus: I am very worried about the Gods. Can we get some more people to search for the Gods and see if they’re all right? I’m sorry. The bosom you speak of is filled with (Three other people run from backstage and out the theater.)

Trish: You’re an idiot. (pause.) You okay? Why’d you hit the wall? Let me see that hand

Justin: Well, I wasn’t going to hit you. I don’t hit women.

Trish: Oh God. I hope we don’t have to pay for this hole.

Justin: I am so sorry. Listen, I’ve just been acting really weird lately. I’m sorry. Just go back to your play. I’ll leave. She probably doesn’t even care if I’m here or not anyway.

Trish: Good, go. (Pause.)

Marcusilus: Ah, and the Gods have ended their

Trish: Hold on! I’m sorry. I’m acting like such a bitch. I shouldn’t be kicking out Tia’s boyfriend.

Justin: My name’s Justin.

Trish: My name is Trish. I’m sorry about before.

Justin: So am I. I’m sorry I was talking loudly during your show. I didn’t mean to. It’s new, and I didn’t know how to turn the stupid ringer off, and I figured that if I went outside no one would hear me. We should go back.

Trish: Do you mind if we don’t go back in? The play has already been disturbed so much. I’m not angry anymore, but if you go back in you’ll be a distraction to the actors.

Justin: That’s great. That’s just great. It’s over. I mean, it was already over, but now I know it’s over.

Trish: Tia’s going to dump you for missing her play?

Justin: No. Tia’s going to dump me anyway. I figured that maybe if I started doing some real boyfriend stuff like seeing her play and going to that stupid dance

Trish: She wanted to go to a stupid dance?

Justin: Whatever. I just wanted to it doesn’t matter. She’s cheating on me. I’m sorry. I should go. Don’t you need to get back in there? (Shenelalo freezes and looks at Marcusilus, who looks back in the same horror. The following should overlap until it says all are silent.)

Trish: I still have a while. After this play ends, there’s another one, and then I play the narrator in the next one. I probably shouldn’t get involved, but why do you think that she’s cheating on you?

Justin: I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.

Trish: Please. I have suspicions also.

Justin: You think she’s cheating on me also? Do you know something I don’t?

Trish: No. I think my boyfriend’s cheating on me. I think I’m being unreasonable, but I’m not sure. (Huntress suddenly freezes in the same way that Marcusilus and Shenelalo did. She looks at Marcusilus, who looks back. Huntress then joins in with the same loud performance.)

Justin: I’m sorry to hear that.

Trish: It’s probably nothing. It’s just little things. I call his cell phone and it rings but he doesn’t answer. If it’s not on, it doesn’t ring. It just goes straight to his voice mail. That means that he’s screening my calls and then not calling me.

Justin: Same thing happens to me. Tia’s been doing the same exact thing.

Trish: Also, about a week ago he said that he was going to spend all night in the library doing homework, but I stopped off at the library to surprise him and couldn’t find him.

Justin: That sucks. Still, that could be explained.

Trish: Yeah. He told me he got really tired and crashed at his friend’s place.

Justin: I wouldn’t worry that much. It’s probably no big deal.

Trish: I bet it’s nothing. Why do you think Tia’s cheating on you? The cell phone?

Justin: Not really. I found something two weeks ago.

Trish: What?

Justin: I found a pair of boxer shorts in her apartment.

Trish: You ever think that maybe you left them there?

Justin: These were definitely not my boxer shorts. She said that a friend gave them to her, but they were not something a girl would give another girl. I mean, they were the just so weird. You know those shirts that people make where they take their own photo and then take it to a store where they put the photo on the t-shirt?

Trish: Yes. I work in one of those places, actually.

Justin: Really? Do you only make shirts?

Trish: No, you can do it with pretty much anything. Pants, socks, underwear, but mostly shirts.

Justin: Well, there was a picture on the back of the boxer shorts. It didn’t look like a design or anything. It looked like a photo of something.

Trish: Was it a photo of a guy’s face?

Justin: No. That would’ve been a give away. It was a picture of a bumper sticker. (Shenelalo and Marcusilus look incredibly defeated. Huntress says a line, then becomes slightly confused by the silence.)

Trish: A bumper sticker?

Justin: Yeah, but a really weird one.

Trish: What was so weird about it?

Justin: Well, it wasn’t like “If You Don’t Like My Driving, Call 1-800 EAT SHIT”.

Trish: What did it say?

Justin: You wouldn’t understand.

Trish: I don’t know. Maybe I would. What did it say?

Justin: Are you from anywhere around here?

Trish: Sure. I’m from Port Washington.

Justin: You’re from Long Island too?

Trish: Yep. Do you know where Port Washington is?

Justin: Of course I do. I live in Port Jefferson.

Trish: Great. So what did the sticker on the boxer shorts say?

Justin: You know where Montaulk is, right?

Trish: Oh my God.

Justin: What?

Trish: Nothing. Maybe I’m wrong. Just tell me what it said.

Justin: It said, “Montaulk: The Beginning.” (A whimper is heard.) What’s wrong?

Trish: Gary’s my boyfriend. He’s the guy playing Marcusilus. The queer clown in the tights. We went to high school together in Port Washington. He was coming here to NYU, and I was originally going to go to school at Albany. I just transferred. The day before I left, we just went for a long drive on the LIE. We just kept driving. We got to Suffolk, and we just kept on going. Eventually, we got to Montaulk, and we started seeing all of these signs and billboards. Have you ever been to Montaulk?

Justin: No.

Trish: There are all of these signs. They all say, “Montaulk: The End of Long Island.” And then some just said, “Montaulk: The End.” And we started getting very depressed about the whole thing. You know, the end of our relationship, the end of Long Island. So we turned back around, but Gary needed gas. So he stopped at a gas station, and he got out to get a soda or something, and I saw a truck. On the back of the truck was a bumper sticker. Want to take a guess what it said?

Justin: Montaulk: The Beginning.

Trish: Good guess. So I took a picture, and I got a job in Albany at another novelty store, and I made up t-shirts and boxers with that picture on them. I sent them to him. He wrote me a letter back saying that he’d always love me. The next semester I transferred here to be with him. Two years later, and he’s f*cking AN ACTRESS IN A PLAY THAT I PUT HIM IN EVEN THOUGH HE DIDN’T DESERVE THE PART! I’m sorry. It’s your girlfriend also. I feel so humiliated. He told me I was imagining things. I’m an idiot.

(Huntress turns towards Marcusilus. She glares at him. She glares at Shenelalo. It is made clear that Marcusilus has been sleeping with both of them. Marcusilus tries to plead his case to each girl as the conversation continues.)

Justin: You’re not an idiot. He’s a liar.

Trish: Maybe, but I knew something was going on and I just let it all roll because I loved him. I’m an idiot.

Justin: You’re no bigger idiot then I am.

Trish: Of course I am! I worked with them both every single day and I suspected nothing. I guess because they play people who are supposed to be in love I am so stupid.

Justin: Come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself.

Trish: 3 and a half years. Three and a half years down the drain. I am such a f*cking idiot.

Justin: No, you’re not. You were taken advantage of. Look, I think you’ll be fine.

Trish: And now look at what I’m doing. You just found out your girlfriend’s been cheating on you and you’re here consoling me. I don’t think of anybody else. I acted like a bitch. I don’t look as pretty as I did before I cut my hair. I’ve put on ten pounds since we started dating. When he wants to have sex, I want to talk. This is all my fault!

Justin: Oh, come on! You keep saying that you’re an idiot. Don’t actually be one.

Trish: I am an idiot!

Justin: You’re not thinking of anyone else right now because you’ve been thinking of Larry

Trish: Gary.

Justin: Gary for the past three and a half years. You acted like a bitch because I acted like a jerk. If you don’t look as pretty as you did before you cut your hair and gained ten pounds, well, I need to see a picture of you before, but I can’t imagine you being any prettier. You are incredibly beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying.

Trish: Thank you.

Justin: As for you wanting to talk when he wanted to have sex, well, I’d bet that he’s really lousy in bed anyway.

Trish: (Laughs a little.) You’d be right. He thinks I like it when he slaps my boobs during sex. He doesn’t know how to do any foreplay correctly. I must’ve faked about a thousand orgasms. I think he caused one, once, and then he got all surprised and was like, “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” (Both laugh, as do Shenelalo and Huntress.)

Justin: He sounds so pathetic. Why were you with him for so long?

Trish: He listened to me. He didn’t do too much talking and he certainly didn’t express his feelings, but he really listened. And he bought me nice stuff and told me he loved me.

Justin: Forget him. You have a new life now.

Trish: I have no life now.

Justin: Don’t believe that. You are beautiful, funny, nice, and probably talented.

Trish: Probably talented?

Justin: Well, I haven’t been able to see your directing skills, but I assume it’s a good play.

Trish: I also did the sound and lighting designs for all of the shows.

Justin: See! And the lights and sound worked perfectly.

Trish: Like you noticed?

Justin: I noticed.

Trish: Well, thank you very much.

Justin: It’s absolutely no problem.

Trish: Why aren’t you sad?

Justin: I will be. It’s kind of helping me to deal with your sadness you right now, if you don’t mind.

Trish: Not at all. I like it. You’re making this a lot easier. Thank you, Justin. (Pause.)

Justin: You didn’t have to do that.

Trish: I didn’t do anything. I gave you a kiss on the cheek to say thank you. (Pause.)

Justin: Look, you’re in a very sensitive place right now, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.

Trish: You’re not taking advantage of anything. You didn’t even kiss me back. You lied, didn’t you? You don’t think I’m pretty at all, do you?

Justin: It is so not that! I think you are so hot, and it is taking everything I have inside of me to (Heavy breathing and kissing is heard.) Screw it. (More heavy kissing and breathing is heard, along with the sounds of zippers and clothes being removed.)

Trish: Oh God! Oh God! Careful with my shirt! Leave my shirt on! (It stops.)

Justin: I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go so far.

Trish: Oh! Oh no! No! My microphone. I just need to be careful about my microphone. Wait! I’ll just put the battery pack into my shirt pocket.

Justin: Why?

Trish: Well, now you can’t take of my shirt, but there’s no reason you can’t take off my pants. (It begins once again. It almost immediately stops.)

Justin: That battery pack.

Trish: What about it?

Justin: Why is that red light on?

Trish: That’s the standby light.

Justin: The standby light?

Trish: Yeah. The red light means that the battery is all charged up. The green light means it’s on.

Justin: Are you sure, because I was on stage crew in high school and (It begins again. There should be assorted “Mmmm”s and “My God’s”.)

Trish: OHMIGOD! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD! YES YES YES YES YES! OH! OH. Oh. My God. Wow. Well, do you have a condom? (Pause.)

Justin: I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.

Trish: What are you talking about? It’s hard! I’ve got to tell you, it’s been a while since I’ve been with a guy who can maintain an erection.

Justin: No. I mean, I can do it and everything. I won’t. I’m sorry.

Trish: You don’t find me attractive. You did this out of pity.

Justin: You are so incredibly beautiful and soft and a great kisser. I have no problems with your appearance.

Trish: Then what is it?

Justin: I told Tia I’d never hurt her. I don’t want to.

Trish: She cheated on you! You have every right to do this.

Justin: No. I’m not talking about this. I insulted her in front of my friends and then apologized for it in private. I didn’t come and see her shows or go to her family reunion or any of the stuff that boyfriends should do. I’ve gone days without calling her after promising her I would. A nice dinner for us was at TGIF’s. I neglected her feelings. She may have cheated on me, but I cheated her out of a lot. I love her. I really do. I need her! I’m sorry, but I need to try to make this work. She’s everything to me. You are a beautiful, luscious young woman who tastes great, but I need to win her back. She’s my life.

Trish: I understand. I’m sorry. I guess I let my emotions get the better of me.

Justin: Don’t apologize for that. That was incredible.

Trish: But you didn’t even get off. You didn’t give me the chance.

Justin: I’m sorry. There’s only one person who I want to touch it. That’s what I should tell her.

Trish: You’re going to tell your girlfriend, “You’re the only person I want to jerk me off!” (Both laugh.)

Justin: I should get dressed and go.

Trish: Me too. (Sound of clothing being put on, if it makes a particular sound.)

Justin: How do I get back there?

Trish: Go out the door, down one flight of stairs, through the doors, make a left and you’re right there. Oh! When you make the left, there’s a hallway. Your second door on the right is a bathroom. I’d wash my hands.

Justin: What? Oh! Yeah. (They both laugh nervously.) Thank you so much.

Trish: Can I give you a kiss goodbye?

Justin: The cheek is fine. (A good five second pause.) It was nice to meet you, Trish. I’ll see you after the show.

Trish: See you after the show, Justin. Nice to meet you too. (Sound of a door opening and closing.) It was nice to meet you. Oh God. Gary. Why’d he do it? Why? (Small sobs which quickly stop.) NO! I am young! I am beautiful! I am funny and nice and luscious! I am going to get laid tonight and tell everyone about Gary’s small dick! Then I’ll tell everyone about his role playing! I can’t believe he wore that Catholic School Girl costume. I will not cry over him! I will not! No! NO! (Small sob, then) NO! (and then silence. Justin enters, and the dialogue onstage stops. He stops by the door, not wanting to disturb the play.)

Marcusilus: I have made my choice, sisters of the garden. It is Shenelalo I desire. Now that my evil spouse has flown away, we can be together, Shenelalo. Let us explore the garden of love together forever. (Marcusilus walks over to Shenelalo tries to kiss her. Huntress has a look of hurt on her face.)

Shenelalo: Go blow yourself, Marcusilus. (Shenelalo jumps off the stage and runs up to Justin and kisses him, but holds his arms to keep him from touching her with his hands.)

Justin: Is the show over or (She kisses him and keeps kissing him. She then stops.)

Shenelalo: Let’s go. Please don’t touch me with your hands until you wash them two more times. (Shenelalo exits out the door of the theater.)

Justin: How’d you ? (Shenelalo reenters.)

Shenelalo: We heard everything, baby. Let’s go.

Justin: I didn’t mean to

Shenelalo: We’ll get through this. We’ll get through it all. Let’s go. (Justin smiles at her and runs after her. They both exit.)

Marcusilus: The God has taken your sister from both you and I, Huntress.

Huntress: So it seems, Jackass.

Marcusilus: My name is Marcusilus.

Huntress: So you say, Jackass.

Marcusilus: Okay. Maybe I deserve that. Maybe I could have made a different choice. All I know is that I had to choose between two angels, and I went for the one that was flying away. I didn’t want to actually make my decision here between you and Shenelalo. I wanted to keep both of you with me so I could decide later. I believe in my heart that you would have been my true choice, you glorious vision.

Huntress: I don’t believe you.

Marcusilus: Huntress, I have done a lot of lying, but now I only wish to lie with you. I swear. You are the only one I’ve truly loved.

Trish: Tia! Just Just what are you doing? You need to stay for bows.

Justin: Trish, relax. They heard

Tia: We heard him on the phone outside the theater, and thanks for shutting him up. He can be pretty insensitive. Anyway, I have a family emergency. Gary is entertaining the crowd since we couldn’t find you.

Trish: It’s okay. How’d the show go?

Tia: It was different. Before we go I need to tell you something Trish. I was having problems with Justin, and Gary seduced me. We’ve been sleeping together for the past few weeks, and I never stopped feeling guilty. He promised me that after the show he’d break up with you to be with me. I feel terrible, and I hope that one day you can forgive me.

Trish: Thank you for your honesty. Maybe.

Tia: I have a weird question for you. Did Gary ever said anything bad about Jamie?

Trish: Why?

Tia: I know you must be pissed off at me, but I’m very curious about this.

Trish: Sure. Last night I asked him if he was excited about the play, and he said yes. I then jokingly asked him about kissing you onstage, and he smiled and said he was SUPER excited about that. Then I asked him about kissing Jamie, and he went into this tirade. He said she talks too much and she smells funny and when they kiss onstage he can taste what she ate for dinner two nights before. Then he did this impression of her, but he used his retarded voice. “Hi, I’m Jamie. I smell like sardines! My breath smells like rotten garlic! Duh duh duh.” Something like that.

Tia: Trish, you’ll know in a few minutes how much I appreciate what you just said. Bye Trish.

Trish: Bye Tia. Goodbye, Tia’s friend.

Justin: Have a goodnight Trish. I hope I see you again.

Tia: Come on, Magic Fingers.

Trish: Huh?

Tia: My pet name for him. Later. (Silence.)

Marcusilus: So, I think that forgiveness is a virtue. In fact, I know it is. (Huntress looks right at Marcusilus, shakes her head and begins to walk offstage.) If you forgive me, I will be yours from now unto eternity my truest love.

Huntress: The show’s over. Stop talking like an asshole.

Marcusilus: I shall not allow the show to end this way. I apologize a million times my lady love. I beg you on hand and knee. (He gets down on his hands and knees.) Please don’t leave me this way, wafting in the wind without you. (Huntress stops.)

Huntress: You want to talk like we’re still in this play? Fine. Oh, stupid Marcusilus, you have lain with my sister, a God and myself. Neither my sister nor myself loved you. We enjoyed you and we enjoyed the casual sex, but you shall not suffer from our vengeance. The vengeance you suffer shall be that of the God. The God shall be cruel and merciless, and she will not stop until you are reduced to nothing but a sniveling corpse of your former self, if even that. And I will make sure that I am there to see what is left of you, and you will reach out your decrepit arm to me to ask for help. I will smile. I will laugh. I will leave you on the ground and draw strength from your tears. You have presented yourself as strong and been shown to be weak. The God’s devour the weak. And you make no mistake about it, buddy, SHE IS A GOD! And you are scum. (Huntress exits. Small pause. Trish enters, and goes backstage, not even looking at Marcusilus.)

Trish: Why is that shitbag still onstage by himself?

Stagehand: Trish, you see this switch here?

Trish: Yeah. That puts the microphone on standby.

Stagehand: No, there is no standby switch . (Pause. From backstage, Trish yells.)

Trish: Eric, would you like a blow job?

Stagehand: Yes. (Slurping sounds are heard.)

Marcusilus: I am the saddest clown. (Blackout. The end.)

On behalf of Gloomchen and Randle, this is Joshua Grutman wishing you a good week.