THE SCAVENGERS WRITING SAMPLE
BY LUCAS BAISCH
(415)608-8483
[email protected]
4028 N Kenmore Ave Apt. 3
Chicago, IL 60613
TIME:
Now.
SETTING:
An undisclosed, urban environment. The stage is dressed in
mountains of garbage. There are a variety of objects used
throughout the course of the play that may be retrieved from or
added to these piles of mess. The piles should integrate a sense
of interactive sculpture into the playing space. A film reel is
situated in one corner of the stage, illuminating projections
when indicated.
CHARACTERS:
The VULTURE Woman female, early sixties
An aging bird looking to repent.
MILES male, seventeen
Brother to Lex and Julia.
LEX male, twenty-two
Brother to Miles and Julia.
IRIS female, late twenties/early thirties
The Vulture Woman’s caregiver.
KID male, seventeen
Miles’ companion. Works at the butchery.
JULIA female, twenty-four
Sister to Miles and Lex.
HUGO male
A trashpicker. Lives in the junkyard.
“Cynicism is nothing but intellectual cowardice”
- Henry Rollins, Provoked
ACT ONE
SCENE 1
The home of a hoarder. Spotlight on an elderly VULTURE
woman seated at a chair smoking a cigarette. She plays
her homemade film reels projected against a large
tarp. Aged footage of a mother and child play in the
silence of a home.
VULTURE. When a person jumps out a skyscraper, who cleans up
those fallen bodies, hard and unmoving?
Everything seems a little abstracted. My eyes two inches too far
apart, an indescribable disproportion in my body.
There’s been an invitation for disease and soon it’ll rain over
my corpse. These eyes of mine will fall dead watching memory
pass.
Life has become a collage, an accumulation. Am I decomposing? Am
I collapsible? Perhaps I can fold myself up and fit on one of my
shelves.
These reels. These little bodies. Look at these small hands
wrapping ‘round an unforgiving mother like a car crash. Like
roadkill on the side of the highway. Necks twisting backwards to
look at the fire. My body, swelling up like the sun at midmorning.
Now where have all the people gone?
SCENE 2
Darkness. A crashing noise is heard, lights rise, and
MILES is found on his living room floor with a poorlyfashioned noose roped ‘round his neck.
MILES. Fffffuck.
LEX busts through the front door wearing a crown,
robe, and sunglasses. MILES scrambles to his feet.
LEX. EYO SWINE, what it do?
MILES. Jesus Christ!
LEX. Back in town, back to the humble life. I have arrived
bearing gifts! Gifts from the holy land.
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MILES. Where’d you come from?
LEX. Your mother’s womb. Sup, little guy?
LEX wraps his arm over MILES in a headlock and notices the
makeshift death device.
MILES. Off. Now. Please.
LEX. What’s this shit?
MILES. Get off of me.
LEX takes a step back and examines his brother.
LEX. Somethin’ ain’t right. Somethin’s a boilin’.
MILES. Caught me at a bad time.
LEX. Yeah?
MILES. Yeah.
LEX. What, am I not welcome in my own home? The place doesn’t
look much different. Same old dump.
MILES. It hasn’t been that long.
LEX. Where’s the big welcome back? Where’s the fuckin’ party?
MILES. We’ve expected you for months. Julia’s thought you might
as well be dead.
LEX. Well I’m here aren’t I?
MILES. Sounds like you had some real pressing engagements in Las
Vegas, Miami, wherever the fuck you were.
LEX. Hm. How do I look?
MILES. What?
LEX. I look good, yeah?
MILES. What the fuck are you wearing?
2
LEX. Just a few things I picked up during my celebratory
travels. The crown’s fake.
MILES. I can see that.
LEX. Where’s what’s-her-face?
MILES. She’s out. Looking for a job.
LEX. Rough. What about you, buddy boy? Where’s the “hey man, how
ya doin”?
MILES. Really?
LEX. Yes, really. Dontcha wanna hear some of my stories? My
adventures of grand proportions?
MILES. I’d rather cut off my hand and eat it.
LEX. You mocking me?
MILES. Oh, I’d never.
LEX. I just spent two months on some island who the hell knows
where, coulda caught malaria or some shit, bring back bucket
loads of cash money dollar bills, and you’re telling me no one
gives a fuck I’m home?
MILES. Reality television is hardly as heroic as you’re making
it out to be.
LEX. You know what it means to win something, Miles? Do you know
what that feels like? What it tastes like?
MILES. You’re pretty excitable right now, huh.
LEX. I’m a fuckin’ lightning rod, man. In the past few months my
success has really warped things for this little unit of ours.
You know how many people recognize me in passing?
MILES. No idea.
LEX. Maybe only a handful, but I swear there’ll be more.
MILES. Right.
LEX. And the more people recognize me, the more exposure I get.
The more exposure means more money, the more money means a
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higher standard of living. You understand? I could pick up
acting, star in an action movie. I could be in an ad campaign
for some energy drink, get a fuckin’ record deal.
MILES. You don’t sing.
LEX. You’re breakin’ my heart, little Miles. This bitter welcome
is not acceptable.
MILES. It’s really disheartening that you think you deserve some
sort of praise from me. I mean, I get it. It must’ve been really
hard for you to lie on a beach and go swimming in oceans
surrounded by camera crews and all-you-can-eat buffets.
LEX. I was starving.
MILES. Sure.
LEX. Not diggin’ the sharp tongue, boy. This some puberty thing?
Some newfound pride?
MILES. I am seventeen years old.
LEX. Never too late to become a little shit.
MILES looks out the door.
MILES. Where are these gifts you spoke of? You look pretty
empty-handed to me. I imagined a more glamorous entrance.
Scantily-clad women hooked to your arms. Gold and “bling” and
champagne pouring from your ass crack.
LEX. Hold that thought.
LEX exits and returns with an oversized check.
MILES. It’s - big.
LEX. I know, right?
MILES. How are you supposed to cash that? It gets taxed, doesn’t
it?
LEX. I don’t know. I’m sure it’s direct deposit or something.
MILES. Uh-huh. So the money isn’t -
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LEX. (Acknowledging the noose.) I see life’s really lookin’ up
for you. Little guy need to talk about his feelings?
MILES. I was just fucking around.
LEX. It’s not hard to make a functioning noose.
MILES. That’s not what I was LEX. Shhh. It’s okay. I understand. Not everyone is as fortunate
as I.
MILES. Oh god.
LEX. Miles. Be patient. Wait and some day you’ll be rewarded for
your greatness.
MILES. Quoth the douchebag with a crown on his head.
LEX. Hey, this shit was not cheap.
MILES. You said it was fake.
LEX. When’s the reigning bitch supposed to get home?
MILES. I’m not her keeper.
LEX. Fine. Guess I’ll post up here till she gets back. At least
someone will be stoked to see me.
MILES. I doubt it.
LEX. My room still the same?
MILES. Nope, we made it into a fucking carnival.
LEX. Watch that mouth, kid. I will flatten you.
MILES. Eat my cock.
LEX. No respect.
MILES. Not for you.
LEX. Y’know, maybe if you’re going to try killing yourself you
should put a little more thought into it.
5
LEX nudges MILES on the shoulder. MILES flips him off as he
exits. MILES takes a deep breath in, exhales, and positions
himself face down on the floor.
SCENE 3
The VULTURE’s home. She and IRIS construct objects out
of the surrounding garbage.
VULTURE. Some day some man will ask you to be his cup of tomato
soup and y’know what you say? You say no thank you. Tell him you
haven’t an inkling of love inside you.
IRIS. What if I want to be someone’s soup, someone’s warm winter
meal?
VULTURE. I wouldn’t test those waters, sweetheart.
IRIS. Love is palpable, miss.
VULTURE. We’re not getting into that now.
IRIS. Shoot. This thing keeps falling apaVULTURE. Thing? They’re not things.
IRIS. Sorry, my – um.
VULTURE. Yours can be a girl. She’s pretty. Like yourself.
IRIS. How do I keep her from falling apart?
VULTURE. Wrap a zip tie tight ‘round the waist. Try to add more
shape to the body. Let me see now. Hold her up.
IRIS. Feels nice to make something.
VULTURE. See how I keep his body healthy? Find things with
structural support. Metal, piping, packaging material.
IRIS. How many of these have you made?
VULTURE. I have dozens maybe. Who knows?
IRIS. That’s quite impressive.
VULTURE. You’re mocking me.
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IRIS. No – no not at all!
VULTURE. You make my work sound trivial.
IRIS. A misunderstanding. I apologize.
VULTURE. Hm.
IRIS. When do you usually like to have your dinner?
VULTURE. Not so hungry tonight.
IRIS. You need to eat food with the medicine I gave you.
VULTURE. I’ve a strong belly.
IRIS. I’ve been left with specific instructions. You’re body’s
having difficulty digesting raw minerals and vitamins.
VULTURE. I said no food tonight.
IRIS. At least let me give you a bath then. It’ll feel nice. The
warm water. You can sit and tell me stories. Anything you’d
like. Tell me about where you’ve come from. Your family.
VULTURE. I ain’t got that.
IRIS. Pardon?
VULTURE. I’m not so blessed.
IRIS. There must be someone.
VULTURE. All I’ve got are a distant group of strangers somewhere
sulking.
IRIS. Seems those strangers arranged this position for me.
VULTURE. You’re here because of the state. The neighbors found
me collapsed on the front steps. A little intrusion and I’ve
found myself in your company. Apparently, it’s not safe for me
to be left alone. Hazardous, the hospital says.
IRIS. I see.
VULTURE. You ever been called feeble-minded? I’d assume that’s
why they’ve got you here with me. Keeping me aligned.
7
IRIS. I’m here to see that you’re taking care of yourself.
VULTURE. Not so sure about that. I’m only looking towards a
troubled future. My face is bound by plastic.
IRIS. Thoughts like that call for patience. I’m here. You’re
here. Company is good, yes?
IRIS holds up her doll.
IRIS. She looks nice. Could I take her home?
VULTURE. Absolutely not. Everything here belongs to me.
IRIS. I’m sorry?
VULTURE. If you learn one thing working here, sweetheart, Iris,
know that everything you touch is mine.
IRIS. I VULTURE. I know where everything belongs and I’m very particular
about how things function.
IRIS. I understand, miss.
VULTURE. First day and you’re already running amuck.
IRIS. Would you like me to run the water now and let it cool for
later?
VULTURE. Go on. I’ll be waiting.
SCENE 4
MILES and KID sit at a park bench both with slurpees in
hand.
MILES. Remember that party?
KID. What, the one the other day?
MILES. Yes, that one.
KID. Of course I remember, it was last weekend.
MILES. Remember that girl with the fuckin’ hair?
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KID. Vaguely. Sure.
MILES. I fell on her. I swear someone tripped me.
KID. Uhh – I’m sorry?
MILES. She didn’t care. At least I don’t think she did. It’s not
like I spilled anything on her, but I’m positive she thought it
was intentional. Some awkward form of flirtation.
KID. She probably forgot about it, Miles.
MILES. Well, I couldn’t help thinking about it the next twenty
hundred million times I passed her.
KID. Is this what all the fuss is about?
MILES. It’s not like I truly gave a shit about her. It was more
the lingering sense of discomfort in that one moment of contact
that made my throat swell up.
KID. So you’re a hypochondriac now.
MILES. It’s like when you and a stranger are holding the same
bar on the train and you gently collide and immediately retract.
Neither of you say anything out of the common courtesy of an
antisocial American culture, but you’re both thinking about it
and the implications of that one momentary physical contact.
KID. Miles –
MILES. What if that girl thought I was trying to pick her up?
What if she thought I didn’t bathe? What if she thought I
thought that she didn’t bathe and that she was the one who
wanted to fuck me?!
KID. Just drink your slurpee.
MILES. I don’t want my fucking slurpee, You don’t understand the
potential horror in everyday life like I do. It’s in everything.
Everyone, every object, place, relationship. Tell me, what if I
spit in your face right now.
KID. Don’t.
MILES. What would you do?
KID. I don’t care.
9
MILES. Just answer me.
KID. I’d probably hit you and then leave.
MILES. Ya see? I have the capacity to ruin everything that’s
going on around me. You do too. Isn’t that mortifying?
KID. You also have the good sense not to.
MILES. You see that guy out there with the terrier. What if I
went up to that dog when no one was looking and just WHAM!
kicked it right out of the park like a fuckin football punt.
KID. Someone would beat the shit out of you.
MILES. It’s going to happen.
KID. You’re paranoid.
MILES. Have you heard about that God particle shit? The particle
accelerators that crash little protons together?
KID. Uh –
MILES. I was researching online about this Higgs-Boson and a
scientist in Germany thinks that humans could have just
triggered some doomsday phenomena. A black hole in the center of
the Earth that’ll consume us from the inside out within a fiveyear period. Kid, have you ever seen recordings of the Columbia
Space shuttle? The Challenger? Those space ships that
disintegrated in mid-air. You can find them online, it’s almost
too easy.
KID. Oh my god. Please stop.
MILES. What?!
KID. You keep yelling.
MILES. I’m upset.
KID. Just because you’re having some bizarre existential crisis
doesn’t mean you have to yell. We’re in public.
MILES. I am overwhelmed.
KID. This is about Alex.
10
MILES. It’s Lex now.
KID. What.
MILES. It’s that stupid TV show he was on.
KID. You look sick.
MILES. Maybe I am sick.
KID. You’re upset he’s home?
MILES. I don’t know.
KID. It’s because he was gone? Four, five months?
MILES. This show of his.
KID. That thing he won.
MILES. Right, he won, and supposedly he brought back money.
Something that could help us out. Financially, I don’t know.
KID. So it’s a good thing?
MILES. No. I hate him. Sometimes. Sometimes, I hate him.
KID. I’m confused.
MILES. For a split-second there I
else to talk to, but he gets home
tool he is. He got to see another
cheated. I mean, he got to leave.
want to come back?
was stoked to have someone
and I’m reminded of what a
part of the world, Kid. I feel
Why the fuck would he ever
KID. What’s wrong with change? I don’t get it. You talk yourself
in circles. You’re making yourself worse.
MILES. Of course, I am. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I
can’t - I can’t - can you just talk?
KID. What?
MILES. I’m too anxious right now. Just tell me a story. Speak. I
don’t know.
KID. You’re putting me on the spot.
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MILES. I’m sure you’ve got something.
KID. Here, okay, this is going to be a stretch MILES. I don’t care.
KID. Just listen. You know about those patches of trash in the
Pacific Ocean?
MILES. No.
KID. I was looking at pictures of them the other day. They’re
these vortexes of garbage swirling with the ocean’s current.
MILES. Okay.
KID. Massive accumulations of the world’s pollution gathering in
pockets of the Pacific. Well, maybe just one pocket. One huge
pocket.
MILES. That’s disgusting.
KID. There are these satellite images of them you can look up
and see all the nasty crap that’s just floating there. It’s
killing all this marine life. Destroying habitats. Dolphins
getting trapped in plastic and shit.
MILES. That’s supposed to make me feel better?
KID. Okay, I know it sounds bad, but – listen – maybe it would
help if you think about how that doesn’t affect you at all.
Right? You’re not being strangled in filth.
MILES. Uh-huh.
KID. You’re habitat isn’t falling apart.
MILES. It kind of is.
KID. You asked me to talk and that’s what I came up with.
MILES. Mmm.
KID. (Teasing.) Do you want to be my ocean? My all-encompassing?
My Pacific northwest?
MILES. No.
12
KID. It could be nice.
MILES. I’d rather not be a floating mass of garbage.
KID. Yeah.
MILES. I didn’t mean it like that.
KID. I know.
MILES let’s out a roaring noise of exasperation.
MILES. I just wanna cup your face and squeeze really hard.
KID. I think I should get going.
MILES. Where to?
KID. My bed.
MILES. Thanks for listening, Kid.
KID. I always do.
MILES. Hey. If you want, you can come up to my apartment
tonight. If the two flights of stairs aren’t too much for you.
KID. I have to go, Miles.
MILES. Right.
MILES blows KID a kiss. KID catches it and eats it.
MILES. Tomorrow?
KID. Tomorrow.
MILES deflates.
SCENE 5
LEX and MILES sit at their dinner table. JULIA ladles a
murky liquid into their bowls. They eat.
LEX. A volcano. A motherfucking, honest to god, real volcano. I
didn’t even know those existed anymore. This shit was biblical,
I’m telling you, something of a holy mountain. A big ole
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bustling monument, ready to rupture and reinvent a new Pompeii,
a new big bang. Imagine that fucker erupting and my ass just
booking it while the island floods with molten lava.
MILES. It’s probably been dormant for years.
JULIA. Were you scared?
LEX. Me? Hell no. The crew made it out to be okay. Still some of
the others, namely these tiny blonde girls, they weren’t having
it. The lack of food, the heat, everything was too much.
JULIA. Should’ve known what they were getting themselves into.
LEX. It’s hard when you gotta eat raw fish and coconuts for
every meal.
JULIA. Sounds like you had a once in a lifetime experience.
Really does.
MILES. I’m losing my appetite.
JULIA. We just barely sat down.
MILES. He’s giving me a headache.
LEX. Pfft, okay.
JULIA. It’s the food, isn’t it? How’s it taste?
MILES. Like bathwater.
LEX. Sewage.
JULIA. I didn’t have much to work with. Can’t go grocery
shopping till next week.
LEX. There’s something about it that’s just lacking, y’know?
JULIA. You’d prefer raw fish and coconuts?
MILES. No one eats soup for dinner.
JULIA. It’s supposed to be stew.
MILES. Supposed to be?
14
JULIA. Mom’s stew. I found a recipe in an old album. Thought I’d
try it out.
LEX. What are these chunksa shit floatin ‘round the bottom of my
bowl?
MILES. Fingers.
JULIA. It’s beef, cut it out.
LEX. Beef. Hm. That reminds me. The other day, I was reading MILES. You read?
LEX. I was reading about people who get their areolas - y’know
the little rings around your nipple – they get that shit
surgically modified.
MILES. Didn’t know they had a name.
LEX. You can make it into any shape you want. Stars, triangles,
whatever.
JULIA. That’s disgusting. Who would do that?
LEX. Porn stars.
JULIA. You know this how?
LEX. My extended philanthropic efforts.
MILES. You make jerk off sessions sound so saintly.
LEX. Anyways, while I was stirring up these beef blobs at the
bottom of Jules’ soup here I got to thinking.
MILES. Beef blobs.
LEX. What if someone surgically altered their anus so that they
could shit out any shape they wanted?
JULIA. Oh my god.
LEX. It’d probably come out more noodley in form but –
MILES. Like those old play-doh toys, where you press the lever
and the clay squeezes out.
15
JULIA. I’m eating!
LEX. Imagine having a little square for an asshole.
MILES. I’m sure if you practice contracting your muscles, you
could get some little cube-shaped nuggets.
LEX. Oozing out your sphincter.
JULIA. Guys, stop! What is wrong with you?
LEX. Julia. Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a truck face?
MILES. You are such a dick.
JULIA. What’s that supposed to mean?
LEX. Your face, it looks like a truck.
JULIA. Alexander!
LEX. What did you just call me? Are you serious? Come on! How
many times do I have to tell you guys? It’s “Lex” now. Did you
even watch the show?
JULIA. You know, the cable bills made it hard to MILES. No one names their kid Lex.
JULIA. It’s what he wants to be called, Miles.
MILES. Since when?
JULIA. Be nice.
MILES. Nice? Give me a good reason why I should give in to his
stupid television personality.
LEX. It’s more than that.
MILES. Your name is Alex. Your birth certificate says Alex. I
have known you as Alex my entire life. There is no way you
expect me to suddenly call you something as obnoxious as “Lex”.
JULIA. Hey! This is the first time in months we’ve been
together. Can we refrain from getting explosive for one night?
Here. Hold on. I went out and got something today.
16
LEX. For me?
JULIA. It’s for all of us. Close your eyes. Good, now – Miles
keep them closed.
JULIA reaches into one of the garbage piles and extracts a
small potted cactus.
JULIA. Open.
LEX. What?
JULIA. Today I bought a cactus.
LEX. I can see that.
JULIA. I’ve wanted one for a while.
MILES. It’s a little brown.
JULIA. I went to three stores and it was the only one I could
find.
MILES. I think it’s dead.
LEX. What am I supposed to do with this?
JULIA. You’re not supposed to do anything. It’s decoration.
It’ll add some green to the place. Make it a little less dismal.
MILES. It’s definitely dead.
JULIA. I’ll nurse it back to health then.
LEX. You are so sad.
JULIA. I’m only trying to LEX. Okay. Done. Can’t eat this.
MILES. Please.
LEX. What now?
MILES. If you’re so picky, why didn’t you take us out to some
fancy restaurant downtown?
17
LEX. Shut up. You don’t want to eat it either. Besides, I’m too
tired to go out.
MILES. My ass. Why don’t you go walk down to the fucking bank
and cash that ridiculous check of yours?
LEX. I have to file some paperwork or something. I don’t know
all the details, okay?
MILES. I call bullshit.
LEX. All I’m saying is this stew here is virtually inedible.
JULIA. I might as well stop cooking then. While I’m at it, stop
cleaning the apartment, doing your laundry, paying the bills –
LEX. Whoa there. Hold on. What is this? I feel like you two
don’t appreciate my homecoming.
JULIA. I don’t need the two of you telling me my honest efforts
taste like bathwater.
LEX. Only telling it like it is.
JULIA. You are a child.
LEX. Truck face, I don’t need the mouth.
JULIA. Excuse me?
LEX. Did I stutter?
JULIA. You’re pushing it. From now on, if you’re going to sit at
this table, you’re going to talk like a sensible human being.
LEX. Jules. Julia. I think we’re all mature enough to accurately
assess the situation. We can all pretty much agree that I‘m now
the patriarch of this family.
JULIA. You’re my little brother. Have some respect, Jesus
Christ.
LEX. Three years don’t mean much, girly. If discourse turns to
fecal talk at the dinner table, so be it.
JULIA. There’s no getting through to you.
MILES. You surprised?
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JULIA. And you.
MILES. What are you mad at me for? He started it.
JULIA. Just be happy he’s home. Can you do that? For me?
MILES. What, am I supposed to wipe the floor clean in front of
him?
LEX. I wouldn’t complain.
JULIA. You don’t have to be so negative.
MILES. Did I miss something? I could’ve sworn “Lex” over here
has been the driving force in this argument and you’ve just been
sitting here taking it in the ass.
JULIA. Calm down. There’s no need to act MILES. No. I’m tired of everyone telling me to “calm down”.
LEX. She’s right, buddy boy.
MILES. What are you even doing here, Alex? No one missed you.
LEX. Come off it. You love that I’m home. I can see that fuckin’
twinkle in your little, beady eyes.
MILES. You’re full of it.
JULIA. Grow up.
MILES. Me?
JULIA. Yes, you.
MILES. I don’t need to grow up. I am a legally recognized minor.
A child. I still got one year left. I’m supposed to be getting
homeless people to buy me alcohol and experimenting with
recreational drugs. Nowhere is it written that I am required to
quote “grow up”.
JULIA. I put in so much effort to hold this family together.
MILES. You don’t have to.
JULIA. It’s my obligation, Miles.
19
MILES. Julia. Stop. Let me spell it out clearly for you. You are
not my mother. No one asked you to be. In fact, our mother is
dead and who the fuck knows where daddy is. You don’t want to
feed me anymore, that’s perfectly fine. Maybe I can start
sucking some back alley dick for change, or maybe I’ll just
starve. You don’t have to do shit for me. I am certainly not
asking you to, especially since I’m nothing more than an
obligation. Please, do me a favor and leave me the fuck alone.
JULIA tosses her dish to the ground and exits.
LEX. Smooth.
MILES. Shut it.
LEX. So good to be back. I really missed you guys.
MILES grabs his coat and heads for the exit.
LEX. Where you think you’re going?
MILES. Out.
LEX. You’re going downstairs to see that Kid.
MILES. I said I’m going out.
LEX. You think I’m going to clean this mess up?
MILES leaves.
LEX. Great. I’ll just hang with the fucking cactus then.
SCENE 6
A junkyard. HUGO lies asleep. Enter KID. He throws a
paper bag at HUGO.
KID. Pastrami on rye, lightly toasted, mustard, no pickles.
HUGO. And?
KID. And a coleslaw. Small.
HUGO. Lickin’ my lips.
HUGO begins to unwrap the package.
20
HUGO. Hey!
KID. What do you want?
HUGO. You get me some sour cream and onions?
KID. You didn’t ask.
HUGO. Don’t act stupid. You know what I like. Next time you
bring me back some sour cream and onions.
KID. Yes, sir.
HUGO. Don’t you sir me.
KID. You know I don’t have to bring you anything.
HUGO. Oh yeah?
KID. I’m a good person. You know that?
HUGO. As good as the gum on the bottom uh my boot.
KID. Shut up, Hugo.
HUGO takes a bite.
HUGO. That’s a beautiful sunrise right there.
KID. You like it?
HUGO. Hey. Man’s gotta eat.
KID. I know.
HUGO. Thanks brother, you make my heart all warm n shit.
KID. Hm.
HUGO. What’s wrong with you?
KID. What?
HUGO. Got your face all twisted.
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KID. It’s nothing. Burnt the roof of my mouth last night and now
there’s this dangling piece of flesh I keep playing with. It
stings, but my tongue keeps touching it.
HUGO. Why don’t you stop?
KID. Want me to cut out my tongue?
HUGO. And here you go.
KID. I can put it in your next sandwich.
HUGO. You got that cheeky shit goin for you but no one’s
laughin.
KID. C’mon, Hugh. I’m only kidding.
HUGO. Yeah, yeah. Somethin’s wrong with you though. Where’s that
sunshine at?
KID. Just havin’ some trouble.
HUGO. You still hangin with that Miles kid.
KID. It’s not him.
HUGO. It’s your pops then? Let me see your face. No black eye or
nothin?
KID. Don’t worry about it.
HUGO. Of course I’ma worry about it. You gotta speak some words.
Can’t be sittin there silent.
KID. I should be leaving soon. I have to make it to my shift
this time.
HUGO. Boy, this coleslaw tastes like feet.
KID. You complaining?
HUGO. Speakin’ some truth.
KID. Thought you said man’s gotta eat?
HUGO. I’m not into feet flavoring. Not about that cannibal shit.
KID. Hah! You oughta starve.
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HUGO. How’s school?
KID. Dunno.
HUGO. Whatcha mean you don’t know?
KID. Haven’t been going.
HUGO. Whatchu do then?
KID. I cum in your lunchbag.
HUGO. You little fucker KID. I work, I eat, I sleep.
HUGO. You come here.
KID. I come here.
HUGO. You don’t have to.
KID. You think I don’t know that? Well, I do. I am very
conscious when I take public transit forty minutes outta my way
to come look at your ugly face.
HUGO. But don’t I look nice today?
KID. Everyday.
HUGO. Better than those sad eyes you got on.
KID. Tired, Hugo.
HUGO. You work hard for a boy.
KID. Just looking for a little light, I guess. Man’s gotta eat,
right? Gotta make them dollar bills.
HUGO. I said boy, not man.
KID. Whatever, still tired. I better get going. Gotta open shop.
HUGO. Yeah, you do what you needta do. Thanks for the –
HUGO keels in pain.
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KID. Hugh? You alright?
HUGO. An ache in my gut. Some sleep’s all I need. You go on now.
Better turn up them corners of your mouth.
Exit HUGO
A curtain of frozen cow carcasses string across the
stage as KID dons an apron. From the surrounding garbage he
fashions a makeshift countertop, perhaps by flipping a
table or pushing aside piles of trash. From beneath the
table, KID pulls out a knife and a piece of meat. He begins
to cut away.
KID.
Mincing and
Mincing and
Mincing and – Hmm. Sometimes I think I’ll take a cleaver to my
own hand without even noticing.
Mincing and
Cutting and
Chopping and - sometimes I hold up chunks of pig back against
the brilliant buzz of this fluorescent light and look real hard
at it. Like a staring contest. Maybe one day it’ll talk to me.
It’ll say: “Kid, you’re doing good,” or “Kid, I like your
smile.” And at this point, I realize I’m falling into daydream.
I imagine myself in a palace, filled with halls of dangling
carcasses, flanking the interior of a home. The musculature of
bovine corpses sculpted by soft, evening sunlight. Maybe Grecian
statue cut from the finest marbleized meat. It’s a beautiful
dream.
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