(1950’s. Prison interior. Wooden electric chair is center stage. Stage Right: red phone on a small table. Stage Left: wall-panel with dials, gauges, and large breaker switch with safety catch. Center Stage: above and behind chair is institutional-type clock that moves the minute hand with a loud Click-Clack. Onstage is PRIEST with CONVICT bound to chair. Clock is barely heard ticking.)

CLICK-CLACK
(Minute hand moves to 11:55. GUARD enters Stage Right with a water pail. Pauses, locks eyes with CONVICT)

PRIEST: In this hour of tribulation, Lord show forgiveness for this soul, so that...
CONVICT: Can it, Father. I got business with the Executioner-Man. (GUARD crosses to panel, checks dials)
PRIEST: May the Lord have mercy on your soul.
CONVICT: It’s his soul that needs mercy, Father. (PRIEST Exits) He’s the real killer here. So what is your career total?
GUARD: (Emotionless) 17.
CONVICT: Is that all? In what? 8 years?
GUARD: 5.
CONVICT: Shoot man, you’re barely averaging 3 a year. That’s not going to get you into the Hangman Hall of Fame. Pretty cushy job, Mikey, only doing the dirty work three times a year.
GUARD: Guess banking was harder, Joe.
CONVICT: Damn straight, Mikey. Worked my ass off for that bank. Not that they ever appreciated it.
GUARD: That why you embezzled the money?
CONVICT: I EARNED that money! (GUARD glances at clock – 11:55:45) How much time have I got?
GUARD: Just over 4.
CONVICT: I ain’t worried. My lawyers are hounding the Governor right now. That phone will be ringing any moment. (They stare at the phone for an eternal 5 seconds until)

CLICK-CLACK
(CONVICT jumps a little) (GUARD picks up pail. Moves to electric chair. Starts fastening electric conductor bands.)

CONVICT: (With forced camaraderie) Hey Mike, it’s... it’s good to see you again. How long has it been anyway?
GUARD: 9 years.
CONVICT: Whew! Time flies when you’re busy, huh?
GUARD: Yeah.
CONVICT: Look, I know the bank took all my time. I’m sorry. I didn’t have time for friends. I knew you, of all people, would understand because we’re blood brothers, Mike. All the crap we did together! Nothing can change that. We knew we’d always be there for each other, watching each other’s back. Just like we promised. Bank life didn’t give me much time for a social life. Shoot, not even for girlfriends. (Weak laugh) Remember how we used to double date? Always surprised me that you let me go out with your sister. And you with uh... what was her name?
GUARD: Rachel.
CONVICT: Rachel! Yeah, Rachel... so how is Melissa these days?
GUARD: Fine.
CONVICT: Still pining over me?
GUARD: No.
CONVICT: Oh right. Guess not, huh?

CLICK-CLACK
(Startles CONVICT. GUARD takes hand-sponge from pail. Starts dousing electrical bands)

CONVICT: Uh, what’s the sponge bath for, Mikey?
GUARD: So you don’t catch fire.
CONVICT: (Visibly shaken) Look Mike, we need to talk. (In a stage whisper) I know you can fix this, Mike. I just need some time.
GUARD: Nothing I can do.
CONVICT: Mike, I still have connections. I can get you out of here, into a real job, paying real money. A LOT of money.
GUARD: Money you stole?
CONVICT: Mike! You’re the Man here. You run this stuff. Pull a fuse or a plug or something. Anything. Hell, give IT the damn sponge bath.
GUARD: I can’t.
CONVICT: Why, the hell, not?
GUARD: You’ve been convicted.
CONVICT: In case you didn’t notice Mike, this is NOT in my best interests. We’re supposed to look out for each. We’re blood brothers, Mike!
GUARD: It was murder, Joe.

CLICK-CLACK
(CONVICT whips his head around, trying to see the clock.)

CONVICT: (Becoming frantic) I didn’t mean to kill her, Mike. I swear to God, I didn’t.
GUARD: The jury thought different.
CONVICT: It was an accident. We had an argument and I lost my temper. Please, Mike, you have to believe me.
GUARD: It was first degree.
CONVICT: It just happened. I went a little crazy, I didn’t mean to hurt her.
GUARD: They said it was premeditated.
CONVICT: No! No, it was an accident, I swear. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. Mike, I loved her. We just didn’t tell anybody because she worked for me.
GUARD: And she found out.

CLICK-CLACK
(CONVICT begins to crack from stress.)

CONVICT: (With growing anger) Yes. Okay. She was my secretary and she overheard one of my phone conversations. She found out that I was skimming some funds.
GUARD: And you killed her.
CONVICT: Yes! There, are you happy? Yes, I killed her. And yes, I planned it. So now you’re going to kill me? What are you going to tell Melissa? “Hey, torched your old boyfriend yesterday!” What a HIT you’ll be at the family reunion. “Hey everybody, remember good ol’ Joe? I fried him last month. Lucky number 18!”
GUARD: She didn’t deserve to die.
CONVICT: She was going to the cops! All I had worked for, all my plans were going to be ruined because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. So I shut her up. Who cares? She was nothing!
GUARD: She was somebody’s sister. (10 seconds to go – GUARD puts hand on switch)
CONVICT: She was a WHØRE! She was sleeping with me to keep her lousy job. She should have kept her mouth shut! (5 seconds to go - GUARD removes safety catch.) I'M YOUR BEST FRIEND, HOW CAN YOU DO THIS? HOW WILL YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF? HOW...

CLICK-CLACK
(GUARD pushes down switch. Lights dim, electric hum sounds. CONVICT convulses, stops. GUARD pushes up switch, lights come back up. Pauses. )

GUARD: (First sign of emotion.) She could have been my sister, Joe.

PERSON: Forgive me father, for I have sinned.
PRIEST: What is it, my child?
PERSON: This is my first confession, so I'm not sure where to start.
PRIEST: First confession ever?
PERSON: Yes. I'm not Catholic.
PRIEST: I see Then why are you here?
PERSON: I have a sin that I feel needs to be resolved.
PRIEST: You mean absolved. But go on.
PERSON: Excuse me?
PRIEST: You said resolve, but you meant absolve. It's a common mistake. Please, continue.
PERSON: Father, I know what I meant. I meant resolve.
PRIEST: No child, priests absolve sins. It's up to you to resolve any conflicts the sin created for you.
PERSON: You must be confused, father. Priests resolve sins.
PRIEST: Which one of us is a priest?
PERSON: You are.
PRIEST: So there you go.
PERSON: But-
PRIEST: It's not important. Please, continue.
PERSON: I'm sorry, but I can't confess to you.
PRIEST: Why not?
PERSON: Because you obviously suffer from the deadly sin of pride, and any man who can't see his own sin can not resolve another of his.
PRIEST: How do I suffer from pride?
PERSON: You can't admit you're wrong.
PRIEST: Yes I can.
PERSON: Then go ahead.
PRIEST: No.
PERSON: See?
PRIEST: I would admit it, but then I'd be lying. And the Lord does not want us to lie.
PERSON: The Lord also wants us to admit when we're wrong.
PRIEST: Is this the sin you needed to confess? That you like arguing about things that you have absolutely no idea about?
PERSON: I don't appreciate this. I really don't. I came here with a serious problem.
PRIEST: That you have yet to reveal.
PERSON: I will as soon as you admit that you made a mistake.
PRIEST: But I didn't. You did.
PERSON: You did.
PRIEST: Do you want me to prove it to you?
PERSON: By all means.
PRIEST: Check under your chair. There should be a dictionary.
PERSON: So there is. Why is it here?
PRIEST: Sometimes people have strange sins to confess and don't have the words to describe it.
PERSON: Clever.
PRIEST: I thought so.
PERSON: What should I look up first?
PRIEST: Resolve.
PERSON: OK, let's see here-reason, reload, ah! Here it is. Resolve.
PRIEST: Read.
PERSON: "Resolve - To bring to a usually successful conclusion: resolve a conflict." See? That's what I want. I want you to resolve my sin.
PRIEST: The defintion for absolve fits even better. Look it up.
PERSON: Fine, but only to appease you. Let's see here: ab, absolute... Sorry, no absolve.
PRIEST: What?
PERSON: I said no absolve. No definition for it or anything.
PRIEST: But it has to be in there.
PERSON: But it's not. You must have made it up and thought it was a real word. Now admit you were wrong and we can get on with this.
PRIEST: Let me see that. There's your problem! This dictionary is missing five pages.
PERSON: So?
PRIEST: So the definition would have been on one of those pages.
PERSON: Isn't that convenient? Now what are the odds that the word would be on a ripped out page?
PRIEST: Apparently pretty good.
PERSON: Please, father, now you're getting desperate.
PRIEST: Honest to Him truth, it's on one of those pages!
PERSON: OK, it's obvious that we're not going anywhere with this. If it will make things go faster, even though I'm obviously right, I admit I'm wrong.
PRIEST: Finally.
PERSON: I give up.
PRIEST: Thank you.
PERSON: I conceal.
PRIEST: Excuse me?
PERSON: Conceal. You know, give up.
PRIEST: You mean concede.
PERSON: Conceal.
PRIEST: Concede.
PERSON: Now this is getting ridiculous.
PRIEST: Where is that dictionary?

SETTING:
A ROOM IN A SLEAZY MOTEL, BARELY FURNISHED SAVE FOR A BED AND TABLE. THE TABLE HAS BEEN DRAGGED CENTRE STAGE. PACKETS OF HALF-EATEN FAST FOOD ARE STREWN AROUND UNTIDILY, INDICATING THAT THE OCCUPANT, JIMMY MALLORY, HAS BEEN THERE A WHILE.
JIMMY, DISHEVELLED, NERVOUS, IS SITTING AT THE TABLE. HE IS PLEADING WITH SOMEONE ON THE TELEPHONE, OBVIOUSLY HIS WIFE.

JIMMY (INTO PHONE):
Honey, listen to me, it's different this time, I promise. I'm doing a twelve-step program…yeah… Gamblers' Anonymous…They say I'm making progress, honestly. C'mon, I can't stand this anymore. I miss the kids, I miss you. Give me a break…Yes, I know I did, but this is different, I tell you. Tracy! Don’t! Please don’t hang―! Ahh…
(LOOKS AT PHONE IN DESPAIR, OBVIOUSLY HIS WIFE HUNG UP)

THERE IS A THUNDEROUS KNOCKING AT THE DOOR.

JIMMY (IRRITATED):
What now?

THE DOOR SUDDENLY FLIES OPEN AS TWO BURLY MEN SHOULDER THEIR WAY IN.

JIMMY'S MANNER CHANGES. HE IS SUDDENLY CONCILIATORY.

JIMMY:
Hey Slugsy! Sorry, bud, I didn’t know it was you.

SLUGSEY SMIRKS AND WALKS OVER TO JIMMY. HIS MANNER IS BREEZY BUT BENEATH IT LIES A COLD SENSE OF THREAT.

SLUGSY:
Well, it is lil' ole me. And this is my new partner, Crackles. He don't talk a lot but he sure can make other people talk, arf, arf, arf.

JIMMY:
Hi, Crackles, nice to meet you.

CRACKLES STARES AT JIMMY COLDLY WITHOUT RESPONDING.

SLUGSY:
O.K., Jimmy, cut the crap. Where is it?

JIMMY LOOKS CRESTFALLEN. HE GOES TO THE TABLE AND PICKS UP A WAD OF MONEY.

JIMMY:
I could only make $5,000.

SLUGSY (GUFFAWING):
The man's a comedian. He owes twenty gee an' offers five! Hey, I got some good news an' some bad, Jimmy. The good news is: time's not up, you got until midnight tonight. The bad news is: you probably like walking on two legs, huh?
(GRINS MALICIOUSLY)
Have a think. Angel face here is called Crackles and it sure ain't 'cos he likes breakfast cereal-you know, snap, crackle and pop.

THE TWO THUGS HOOT ALL THE WAY TO THE DOOR. JUST BEFORE HE EXITS, SLUGSY LOOKS AT HIS WATCH.

SLUGSY:
Ya got twelve hours more, Jimmy.

SLUGSY LEAVES, SLAMMING THE DOOR.

JIMMY IS DISTRESSED. HE SITS AT THE TABLE HOLDING HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS.

JIMMY:
Oh no! Not this, not now…
(THINKS, DIALS PHONE; TALKS, FALSELY CHEERY)
Hey, Manny! …it sure is. How are you doin'? …yeah? So, what's hot and what's not? Violet Blaze? …12.30? Good horse, good horse; reasonable odds. Look, stick five gees on it for me, would you? C'mon, since when have I not been good for it? It's sitting on the table in front of me. …yeah. And Manny, call me back with the good news, could you? The TV is kaput; I can't watch the race… Sure, 'bye.

(LIGHTS DOWN SLOW TO FULL BLACKOUT
AS JIMMY HANGS UP AND STARTS PACING.)

(LIGHTS UP AGAIN ON JIMMY STILL PACING.)

THE PHONE RINGS. JIMMY RUSHES UP AND GRABS IT FRANTICALLY. HE LISTENS TENSELY.

JIMMY (LETS OUT A WHOOP):
Yes!! Ooh, yes! You da man, Manny. Oh thank, you thank you. That’s twenty gees and my original five! I'll be over to get it right away… What? Shooting Star? But she was pulled last year; someone nobbled her. She was finished, never race again, they said. She was a great horse, though, could've been a champ.. What? Training in secret…? Twenty to one! That’s some odds. You think she'll hack it? …Oh no, no, Manny, I can't. I got a lot riding on this twenty gee―a health problem, sort of― not to mention my marriage. Thanks, but no thanks, O.K.? See you later.

JIMMY PUTS THE PHONE DOWN AND BEGINS TO EAT FEVERISHLY FROM ONE OF THE FAST FOOD PACKETS AS IF HE HASN'T EATEN FOR A WHILE. HE FINISHES EATING, WIPES HIS MOUTH, PICKS UP THE PHONE AND DIALS.

JIMMY:
No, honey, please don’t hang up…. Please! Look, it's all fixed, no problemo. In fact, more than fixed. We are doing O.K., we're O.K.. Look, why don’t you get your Sis to babysit the kids tonight, and I'll take you to Lucino's? …That’s what I said, Lucino's. …No, look, this isn't a ruse. I'll take you there, no strings. Hey, we'll have a nice night and chat. …Nope, I won't try to come home with you. Let's take it easy, slow like. You've got nothing to lose. …I know you've always wanted to go to Lucino's, O.K.? Of course I'm paying…what do you think I am, some kind of jerk? You could wear that blue dress, the one with the ruffles…you'll look gorgeous.
(PAUSE)
Yes? Wow! Terrific, kid, that’s just great! I'll see you there at eight on the dot. 'Bye, hon.
(HANGS UP PHONE; HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF)
Boy, my luck is turning. I knew it would. It couldn’t stay down there too long.
(LOOKS CONTENTED, PICKING TEETH; THEN FROWNS AND DIALS PHONE)
Manny? Yeah, me again. About Shooting Star…are they really putting it out at twenty to one? …Yeah? Well…

Center Stage, Lights come up slowly. We see a young woman facing stage left. As the lights come up she begins to speak to someone shrouded in shadow.

"This year, things are going to change."

"There will be no more put-downs. No more insults. I will no longer listen to you tell me that I'm not good enough. I will refuse to hear you when you belittle my clothes or hair. I will ignore all your snide petty remarks. I will not let you make me feel guilty for things that I have done or said."

"I just don't understand how you, of all people, could do this to me. You are supposed to be my backbone, my inner strength. You are supposed to assure me when I'm scared, yet you fan my fears. You should comfort me when I'm blue, yet you list my faults. Instead of backing me when I'm strong, you work to tear me down. You have demolished any sort of self worth I may have once possessed, and undermined every single good thing that could ever have happened in my life. In fact, you are doing it again right now!"

"You know, I have every right to be as happy as the next guy... girl, whatever. My point is that I am sick and tired of being made to feel as if what I am doing isn't good enough. What I have to say isn't important. I have no value, or purpose, or direction, or ANYTHING!."

She takes a breath and sits down indian style, still facing stage left.

"I cannot continue this vicious circle. I'll have no part of it. You can't be trusted any longer and It's time for a change. I am completely and totally done with you. It's out with the old, and in with the new."

"The new you will be supportive and caring. Will be confident and carefree. Then new you will be beautiful, and happy, and always true to herself. She will never judge, or condemn. She will love me as I deserve to be loved, and she will value my happiness."

The lights brighten stage left, revealing a full length mirror.

"This year my resolve won't be weakened. This year you.. me... I, will realize that I deserve to be happy."

Lights fade to black.

Tuna: Nonononononono! Awwwwww! COME ON!

Dolphin: (sighs) What?

Tuna: Hold up a minute! (rests dorsal fin on reef) You've been chasing me for ages now, can't you pick on someone else?

Dolphin: Mmmm, but you're a fat, juicy one. I want to eat you.

Tuna: Fine, fine, fair enough. But look, I mean, what do I get out of this deal?

Dolphin: ...

Tuna: Like, I have to swim for my life for, geesh, who knows how long, then 1, 2, 3 crunch, I'm dinner. Where's my incentive?

Dolphin: Incentive? You want incentive to die?

Tuna: No, no. I want incentive to stay with the chase. I mean, look at you! You're at least twenty times my size, you're all rounded and built for speed. Evolution never gave me a chance. I can't cut through the water the way you do.

Dolphin: You shouldn't have left your school?

Tuna: Oh, great, now you sound like my mother. Look, all I'm saying is that if we're to keep up this little charade, I should be rewarded should I out swim you. See?

Dolphin: You? Out swim me? Preposterous.

Tuna: Maybe so, maybe so. (paces, or swims laps, I suppose) But let's just say that this little tuna has evaded you for most of the afternoon, right? You must not be terribly hungry or you would have gone back to the swarm, right?

Dolphin: I'll admit it, you amuse me.

Tuna: There! See? I'm providing a service, a much needed break in the tedium that your far superior intelligence must face in this deep blue dull. I mean, you're the most brilliant of fish, so all...

Dolphin: I am NOT a fish. (blows a stream of bubbles in disgust)

Tuna: Right, right, sorry. Geesh you guys are real sticklers about that. "I AM NOT A FISH. I AM A MAMMAL." Sorry, but you know, the fins, the swimming, the merciless killing of smaller, helpless fishies, you surely seem like a...

Dolphin: I do not expect your tiny tuna brain to fully comprehend the nature of my existence. I expect only to eat you.

Tuna: Sure, sure, but you haven't yet, eh? We've been here chatting away and not once have you come in for the kill.

Dolphin: ...True. This I can change. (thrusts forward in a faint attempt to attack)

Tuna: Hold on! Now, I'm just saying that we can come to an arrangement here, a resolution to this conflict that could benefit us both. Are you willing to listen?

Dolphin: (rolls playfully) Amuse me, food.

Tuna: Heh, ok. See this reef. It's full of little nooks. Give me a head start, let me find a hiding place and if you can find me before nightfall, you can eat me up.

Dolphin: (blows a bubble ring lazily) And if the impossible should happen?

Tuna: Then you let me swim on my little tuna way? Deal. (backs slowly into the comforting shadows of a fan coral)

Dolphin: Deal.

Tuna: (surprised) Really?

Dolphin: On your mark...

Tuna: Oh, ok ok, head start now, remember?

Dolphin: Get set...

Tuna: You promise, after nightfall.

Dolphin: I promise not to eat you if I can't find you. GO!

Tuna: OK!

(Tuna darts out from underneath the overhanging coral and directly into the mouth of a second waiting dolphin)

Dolphin: How is it?

Dolphin 2: (mumbling through a mouthful of fish) Mmmpffh, not bad. Tough though.

Dolphin: Yes, the smart ones always are. (haughtily) Hmph, evolution. What do tuna know about evolution? How absurd.

(Dolphin 2 explodes.)

Dolphin: Oh.

Scene: A very overweight Daphne is sitting on a fading yellow couch, the back of a TV to the audience. She has a variety of junk food wrappers and products around her. While she munches chippies, the sound of her TV can be heard. The dramatic music gives it away as a soapie.

TV woman 1: Bryce, I don't know if I can take this any more.

TV man 1: Courtney, I love you. I've always loved you. It's time for you to be with me, completely.

TV woman 1: Oh Bryce. I love you too. But my mother had an affair with your father 18 years ago. I could be your sister!

TV man 1: That's okay Courtney, I don't care, I want you anyway!

Daphne shows a shocked reaction to this incestuous admission as a theme song rolls. While it fades out, she looks for more food.

Daphne: Now where the heck are them cheese-its? I jus' KNOW I had some somewhere.

She fossicks about on the sofa through the products, without getting up. Unsuccessful, she looks up and towards the kitchen, stage left.

Daphne: They're on the bench. I musta forget to bring 'em over here.

She looks wistfully in that direction. She starts to get up. The couch is low and it's difficult for her. She decides not to and plops back down with a sigh.

Daphne: Oh well, I'll have them later.

She grabs a different packet of snacks and the TV remote control. She points the remote at the TV and starts flipping channels.

TV woman 2: ... ninety five. That's right, only thirty nine ninety five. And we'll throw in a free set ...

Flick of the channel.

TV woman 3: ... four! Now left, one, two, three, four. Now right, one, two, three, four. You're doing well, keep it up!

Flick of the channel. Daphne starts looking bored and irritated that nothing good is on. The TV plays the theme tune to "Friends" and fades out a little.

From upstairs a teenage girl's voice: Mom!!!

Daphne (calling): What, love?

From upstairs: The troupe's having a mother-daughter camping weekend next week. Can we go?

Daphne looks decidedly unimpressed with the idea.

Daphne (calling): I think I have plans, love. Might have to be another time, yeah?

From upstairs: Oh hey, it's not next weekend, it's the one after! Can we go then, then?

Daphne looks distraught, caught out in her lie. She makes a movement like pumping arms along to walking, wiping sweat off her brow, and panting. With a painful disappointment in herself she hangs her head and calls out.

Daphne (calling): Uh, I don't think I can make it pet. Why don't you ask your aunt Sally if she'll go instead?

From upstairs: Oh mom!!

Daphne hits the remote again and the TV springs back into sound.

TV man 2: (distraught as in recalling an unhappy memory) ... my kids couldn't play with their dad, I couldn't play football with my boy, I couldn't take the dog for a walk. It was a pathetic existence, and I finally decided I had to do it. For the kids, you know.

TV man 3: And look at you now! Ladies and gents can you believe that Doug lost 48 pounds just walking?! Come on Doug, let us in on it, you must have been living on rice crackers and raw carrots, too, surely?

TV man 2: Well you know Baz, I had to knock off the rubbish, but I still had full meals. I ate whatever I wanted for meals. Chicken, beef, lasagna, even fatty stuff. I just stopped having the snacks between, and walked for 60 minutes a day. On Sundays I completely let myself do anything. It wasn't even that hard!

Daphne looks upstairs. Looks at her junk food. Looks back at the TV.

TV man 3: Wow! (exaggerated) I can't believe it! Well, viewers at home, what are you waiting for? We're not selling you an exercise machine that looks easy because our models have practiced for weeks. We're not offering you a diet plan where you have to pay every week for special food and you don't learn anything. This is 'Your Health', and we're just offering you a chance. Change your life. Start walking.

TV man 2: I did, and now I play football with my boy every day. I can't get enough of being able to spend time playing with him. It's great!

Daphne clicks off the TV. She reviews her surroundings and looks down at her own body. She pulls her tee-shirt away from her chest and looks down inside.

She looks back upstairs then smiles. She stands up, cleans up all the packaging and products, and puts it all into an obvious trash can, including the Cheese-Its from the kitchen bench. As she does so she mutters.

Daphne: Chocolate brownies, cookies, chippies, dip, cheese-its. All trash. All bloody rubbish.

After dumping the last bit, she pulls her shirt down in a determined "I’m gonna do something" kind of way and calls upstairs as she heads for the coat rack and front door.

Daphne: Honey? Wanna go for a walk?

Scene: Chase Jackson has been captured by the evil and malodorous Doctor Naughtee. Bound hand and foot to a folding metal chair, Jackson is bravely resisting Naughtee's interrogation, as well as waves of nausea rolling through him. The Doctor's the smell is near-overpowering...

Jackson: [gasping] Why?

Naughtee: [circling Jackson] An interesting question. Why? Why do I threaten to poison water supplies with paralytic chemicals? Why do I try to take control of satellite systems to turn them into space death-ray machines? Why have I --

Jackson: Would you mind {choke} taking a step back? Or talking through the door, maybe?

Naughtee: [talking over him] -- gone to the trouble of hollowing out this deserted island volcano, boring and tunnelling for years to construct a secret lair, when I could just as easily have bought out that simpering magnate Billy Gates, or the ineffectual, unphotogenic Donny Trump, and set myself up as head of a more legitimate -- but just as evil -- corporate empire?

Jackson: But...?

Naughtee: [rounding on him, barking, inches away from Jackon's face] But, why? I'll TELL you why, Mr. Jackson..

Jackson: [greenly] Oh God -- here it comes. {blurp}.

Naughtee: Because I am FIRM in my resolve, Mr. Jackson. Mean-spiritedness is a good start, but it's merely child's play. Playing dirty is a better. Backstabbing, two-timing: these are improvements as one develops one's own unique style. But "bad" [making air-quotes] is not nearly good enough for me. I want the world to know that I'm Evil. Capital E. They will know -- they will learn -- how wickedly nefarious I can be. That's why I go to such elaborate pains to "inconvenience" [air-quotes again] all nations, and align myself with none. I'm not the Bad Guy. "Bad Guys" [third air-quotes in one line] merely arrange hostile takeovers. Evil orchestrates chaos, distruption... PANIC. That, Mr. Jackson, is Evil's ultimate success. Utter, senseless panic, for it's own sake.

Jackson: "Evil orchestrates chaos?" That doesn't even...urp... make sense.

Naughtee: [raving now, wildly swinging his arms] How do you think it feels, growing up, aspiring to be the most evil, malevolent man in the world, with a name like "Nasalius Naughtee"? [in a mocking, falsetto voice] "Ooooh, you're so bad! You're so wicked! You're so, so... naughty! Naughty Naughtee, Naughty Naughtee!"

Jackson: [gagging] Naughtee, you're path-- phaugh! ew!...pathetic. And unless you...

Naughtee: Unless I what? In case you haven't appreciated your present circumstances, Mr. Jackson, you're in no position to be threatening me. I am in control here. I tell you what your next move is going to be, not the other way around.

Jackson: ... stand back [breaks into a bout of throaty, muffled coughing] ...

Naughtee: Stand back?! Order me, will you? You're obviously as headstrong as you are renowned. Not to worry, not to worry at all. We'll soon have that set to rights.

Jackson: [panting] ... I'm going to...

Naughtee: [in a tantrum] Oh, give it up, will you? You're going to WHAT? For the love of Pete! You're not in CHARGE here! Don't you get it? Are you really that stubborn, or are you just stupid?

Jackson: ... soil your shoes.

Naughtee: Eh? Come again? Oh! Succumbing to the influence of my Evilness, are you, Mr. Jackson? At last weakening under pressure? Then tell me! Tell me now! Where is Base Prima located? Where?

Jackson: Ugh. {hack} Pressure? [panting heavily] Evil?... no. Bring bucket... towel... anything.

CURTAIN closes, quickly, to the combined sounds of evil laughter, and prolonged wretching.

The Scene: A small, dark restaurant.

“I just can’t take it any longer Melissa. I’m worn out by all of these fights. It’s time to call it quits.”

“What? I thought it was getting better. You know, we’re not fighting as much as we used too,”

“Better? Since when is fighting good? We’re not having as many fights, but they’re worse than ever. The reason we don’t fight as much is because we hide and lick our wounds after each battle. No, I’m tired of fighting and feeling bad. We’re just not good for each other.”

“We used to be. What happened?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. No matter what I did, you complained about it. You just slowly ate at me away until I couldn’t even be me!”

“Well, you did screw up the finances royally!”

“I know I did! I know it! You know I feel bad about that, but it was like that was the turning point. Ever since then, you have just ripped me apart every day!”

“Well, you know you deserved it. You lied to me about where the money was going. Billy, you lied to me!”

“I know I lied, but I couldn’t tell you the truth ‘cause then you’d start crankin’ in on me again. It’s the same old story and now you’re at it again! Just leave me alone!”

Silence.

“It didn’t used to be this way. I don’t know what happen. When did it all go bad? No. I don’t want to know.”

“I don’t either. I just want out. I’m tired of hurting all the time.”

“Hurting. You actually hurt?”

“More than you’ll ever know.”

“I’m sorry. I know I said some cruel things, but I never really wanted to hurt you.”

“I never wanted to hurt you either, Melissa, but we did. We’ve cut each other to shreds.”

“We did, didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did.”

Silence.

“So, you’ve made a decision?”

“Yes, and it’s time to move on with our lives.”

“It’s hard to do that, I mean, give it all up. Our family and our friends won’t treat us the same anymore and I really do like your dad. I’ll miss him. I guess that’s what will make this worse, there’s more to this marriage than us.”

“Worse? Why did you say worse?”

“It’s already bad enough that we’re fighting, but now divorce, and then everything else on top will just make it worse.”

“You said it again. Why did you say worse?”

“That’s what it is. What’s wrong with that word?”

“It just reminded me of our wedding day, you know, ‘For better or worse.’”

“For richer or poorer.”

“In sickness and in health.”

“To love and to cherish.”

“Til death do us part.”

“You still remember those words?”

“I do. I took them so seriously back then. I read them over and over the night before.”

“We’re they just words? Or were they what the pastor said they should be, a promise, a vow for life.”

“I remember what he said. He said, ‘Today, you love each other. That’s obvious. The question is, will you love each other tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day and in the weeks and months and years to come. You’re not confirming your love today. You’re vowing that you will love each other tomorrow and for the rest of your life.’”

“You remember that?”

“I do. I remember my vow. Melissa, I love you and I always will.”

Silence

“I guess we’ve had our ‘worse’, maybe it’s time to have our ‘better’ now.”

“Regardless, better or worse, I’ll always love you. Let’s get out of here. Let’s go home.”

[Scene: An extremely worn-in couch, complete with stains and pillows faces the crowd. In front of it is a table with snacks and drinks the characters are expected to sample from between lines. On the back wall are numerous pennants and other sports memorabilia (posters, jerseys, etc.). As the curtain rises, SONNY is sitting on one edge of the couch, munching on pretzels.]

Sonny groans and briefly covers his eyes in disbelief.
LOU rushes in from stage left, staring at where a TV would be, and takes a seat on the other edge of the couch.
Lou: “What? What did I miss?” Pausing to notice Sonny’s expression, he adds, “Do I want to know?”
Sonny: “Can you believe it? We got a penalty against us.”
Lou: “Oh, man! Just when things were looking good, they go and mess things up.”
Sonny: “Should have never been called.” He points. “Here, watch this part of the replay.”

PAUSE

Lou: “Hmm. I see the foul. Over and over again, unfortunately.”
Sonny: “Yeah, but they’ve been letting that go until now. And you know they never would have called it against the other team.”
Lou: “Oh, c’mon, simply put, they made a mistake. As usual. Sometimes I wonder if this team’s going anywhere.”
Sonny: “Of course we’re going somewhere. We should go all the way. Maybe not if we keep getting those whistles, but still…”

Lou sighs. “You know, sometimes I don’t get you.”
Sonny: “And sometimes I don’t get you. But what specifically is your problem now?”
Lou: “About this team. Look at that – another bonehead play. How can you defend them at every turn?”
Sonny: “How can you not?”
Lou: “Well, it’s not like they’re favored to succeed in the playoffs, if they make it there.”
Sonny: “We’ve always been underrated. We never get our due.”
Lou: “Oh. And here I thought it was because they weren’t close to having the best record.”
Sonny: “We’ve had injuries.”
Lou: “Everybody gets injuries.”
Sonny: “And other things go against us. You remember the game earlier when our opponent’s superstar could do no wrong?”
Lou: “Do you have an excuse for every loss?”
Sonny: “I could probably find one. Though I’d say they were ‘facts’ more than ‘excuses’.”
Lou: “Naturally! The only ‘fact’ you overlook is how much they suck.”
Sonny (shaking his head): “Oh, boy. Here it comes again.”
Lou: “What?!?”
Sonny: “This is where you give up on the season.”
Lou (defensively): “And why not?”
Sonny: “Hey, we’ve still got a chance at the championship.”
Lou: “No, they’ve risen from pushover to above average.”
Sonny: “But that means we’re improving. Who knows what heights they could reach?”
Lou: “True, all I’m familiar with is their depths. Still, I think they’re just teasing us. In fact…”

PAUSE

Sonny: “Go on, say it.”
Lou: “Ok, I will. I they don’t show me something worthwhile of my support, I’m giving up on this team.”
Sonny: “You’ve said that before.”
Lou: “What if this time I truly mean it?”
Sonny: “ You know you’ll want to keep coming back.”
Lou: “Only if I listen to you. I’m just tired of the frustration and misdirected hope.”
Sonny: “You just like to complain. I’m sure you’ll keep doing that.”
Lou: “Well, I doubt I’ll ever find an easier source.”

Nervous pause. Sonny stares straight ahead. Eventually, Lou stands.

Lou: “Well, this game’s over. They’ll never come back from that.”
Sonny: “I suppose not.”
Lou: “Alright, I’m off, then.”
Sonny: “We’ll get ‘em next time, and get that much closer to the playoffs. See you then?”
Lou: “Yeah, probably.”

[Lou exits stage left. Curtain Closes]

Setting: A busy highway truck stop on the out skirts of a small town. While markus is 22 he is about as mature as a 12 year old. About an hour ago he had a fight with his mother and walked out. Pete is a hardened 52 year old truck driver who has stopped here to refuel and move on. Pete is obviously sexually predatory. Markus is naive and has no idea about the world outside the shelter he has grown up in. Today is Christmas Day.

Markus: Hey can I ride with you?

Pete: Don't know... How old are you?

Markus: I'm 22, I will be 23 in a few months.

Pete: Well that's old enough to consent, tell you what you buy me a little something to eat and I will let you go with me. I got a dog and you will have to hold her pillow on your lap so she can sit on it... is that Ok?

M: I don't have any money

P: Oh, that's even better I bet we can work something special out for you to pay me back.

M: Great, what can I do? I will do anything you want just tell me.

P: Don't worry about that now, your my new best friend and I want to buy you something to eat. Let's go inside.

Inside the two men are seated at a table and the conversation continues.

P: Now at this time of the year you should be with your family, where are they right now?

M: My mother kicked me out of the house. I spent all my money to get a bus ticket here and she just kicked me out. I am so tired of putting up with everything she puts me through. I told her I was not going to go back to the vaction house they own a few hours from here.

P: So you live in thier house?

M: Not anymore. They have three houses and after all they've put me through they should be happy that I live in one of thier houses... but no... all she can think about is rent. Who are they landlords or parents. I can't tell. They have been making me pay the telephone bill for 6 months, even though the only people I ever call long distance is them. Last month they told me I have to start paying the electricity. The electricity has been cut off now and there is not much point in going back to that house for me. Now they want rent too. God I am sick of it. I am never going to talk to them again!

P: So how long have you lived in this house they own?

M: 5 years now.

P: And in all this time you have never paid the bills, or given them one dime of rent?

M: They are my parents why should I have to?

P: I have decided what you have to do for me if you want a ride. I want you to wash my truck from one end to the other.

M: Are you crazy? That would take me all day and it's already after dark.

P: (angry)Just what I thought, you are a lazy punk who is ungrateful for everything. Today is Christmas day and I would give anything to be with my family. My mother is dead, my wife takes all my money and my own children have grown-up and won't talk to me. You think I have nothing better to do than drive some rotten brat around? Well your right... this is it... I really have nothing better to do.

p: (continues) I don't think you could wash my truck because you have never done a days work in your life. You need a good beating. I will let you come with me and I will show you what life is really about, but if you are smart you will just go home and tell you mother how sorry you are for being such a screw-up and beg her to let you come home!

P: (Continues) Well, it's time to take off... 'best friend' are you coming with me?

M: I think I am alergic to dogs anyway, I have a phone call to make.

[note: at this point Markus is resolved to be a better son and do something with his life]