10/27 Trey & his grandfather by Michelle V.

Trey is now 22, and it has been a year since he’s been released from juvenile hall. He was sentenced to stay there until he turned 21. He believes he has completely reformed. He was taken in by his grandparents and has been living with them until now. Just a week ago, their house was broken into by presumably burglars and Trey’s grandparents were severely beaten. His grandmother didn’t make it, while his grandfather is in critical condition. The doctors believe he doesn’t have much longer.

TREY

Pa?

MCCOY

Come in, come in

TREY

You look…

MCCOY

Ah, you can say it. Not so good. Old. Five minutes away from becoming a corpse.

TREY

No, no, I… how are you?

MCCOY

Alright. Come in, come in. take this chair here.

(Trey takes a seat in the chair next to his bed. There’s a long silence before he puts his head into his hands)

TREY

I shouldn’t have gone out with Trevor, I shouldn’t have, especially to just go and drink

MCCOY

No, no don’t start

TREY

Then Nona would still be here (pause) you guys are all that I have

MCCOY

Come on, stop it. How do you think I feel? I couldn’t even protect her. My hands, they used to pick brick by brick and build walls. Now, as you can see, they are useless. Useless to help my wife

TREY

Pa…

MCCOY

Trey, don’t worry about a roof over your head after I’m gone…

TREY

No, no Pa I don’t care…

MCCOY

Oh you’ll care when winter comes around. Don’t talk such nonsense. Our house is your house. And you better take care of it, okay? No parties, no girls, no loud music late at night (winks). And water Nona’s plants. She’d kill me if I didn’t remind you.

TREY

Okay Pa

MCCOY

Listen. Just be a good man Trey. I’ve seen the change, you’ve lived the change for a year now.

TREY

Okay Pa

MCCOY

I know the past is the past. What that man has, or whatever that thing was that attacked me and your Nona, is not inside of you.

TREY

Ok…

A nurse enters. Trey decides to leave the two alone and stands outside the hallway. He looks down at his phone and he sees that it’s his girlfriend of three months, Monica. She has arrived at the hospital.

MONICA

Where is he, is he okay?

TREY

Yes, yes… or at least I think so. Let’s talk outside.

MONICA

Outside? I want to see your grandfather.

TREY

He’s my grandfather. The nurse is with him anyways

MONICA

Allriiiight…

(They exit out the entrance)

MONICA

What’s going on?

TREY

I dunno

MONICA

Well do you think he’s going to make it?

TREY

I don’t know Monica. Stop asking.

MONICA

Well jeez, Trey, sorry for caring

TREY

Yea, just stop reminding me that he’s gonna be gone soon

MONICA

I wasn’t…

TREY

Yea you were. And he isn’t your grandfather. So stop acting like it.

Monica looks down, completely offended.

TREY

You just… it’s not your grandfather in there. To come home and to see... to see him, lying there… at the bottom of the couch, next to Nona… in her blood- God, you couldn’t even recognize her. With the life just stolen away from her. I thought, I thought he was gone with her too. In that second, I felt this incredible pain that had been building up, building up, building up since I walked through that door, until it washed away into this numbness... And I saw the two people that I had loved the most, the ones that… loved me, and would never hurt me…. I saw them lying there.

MONICA

Oh my god… Trent…

TREY

And, there was the chair… the back was completely broken off and one of the legs was covered in, in, it was this deep color. It was laying down right beside her, not even hidden, not even ashamed of what it had did. I stood before that, thinking, what’s left? What’s left? Is there anything in the world that I have anymore…

MONICA

But I’m here…

TREY

Yea and for you to walk into this. I can’t ask you to stay.

MONICA

But I will

TREY

You shouldn’t. It won’t get any better

MONICA

How do you know? How can you say this?

TREY

Because I’ve spent a lot of time alone. Thinking. A lot of time thinking alone. And during all that time, there wasn’t a day that I didn’t plan what I was going to do for them. How I’d be better for them

MONICA

But you are!

TREY

No, it’s too soon for you to tell. I already know that at least. I’ll admit, it look like I was starting to… heading in the right direction but…

MONICA

Don’t. Just shut up.

TREY

You don’t understand what it takes to create this something, this something inside of me. I thought the peace and silence of four years would be enough, just enough to kick it out. But it’s alive and well. And it’s only been saving its energy these past years, ready to really show me.

MONICA

I don’t understand Trey.

TREY

You’re not suppose to. You’re the lucky one. You’ve never had to see where I’ve been.

From Andi Smith's The Island In The Hills: Scene 2 Big Ugly Secret

Annabelle: Paige I saw you last night.
Paige: What do you mean?
Annabelle: I saw you, you don’t have to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.
Paige: Whatever, you might have seen me, but I don’t have to tell you anything.
Annabelle: Hm. Well now I’m beginning to believe there is something I should know- I was just going to assume you were out tracking a constellation of stars or waiting for some kind of rare comet sighting, continuing your research as usual, feeding your relentlessly hungry IQ.
Paige: Well you’re right about that actually.
Annabelle: I don’t know Paige, I think your life just got a lot more interesting…Or at least from my perspective. What were you doing out there? It was nearly 4 in the morning…?
Paige: Gosh, I’ve been able to keep you and mom out of my business all this time, and now? I’m so close to being out of here! This is ridiculous, you better just drop it and leave me alone.
Annabelle: I don’t know why you have such a huge problem with me Paige, I am your big sister, maybe it’s time we start acting like sisters, maybe it’s time I start being a role model for you, allowing you to confide in me.
Paige: Ha! A role model for me? I’d rather be caught dead than be walking through life with your ungrateful demeanor, nothing about you is anything I’d want to be.
Annabelle: Please. You seem so fussy though when mom favors me, isn’t that something you wish you had? I mean it’s just so painfully obvious, and when I say painful- I mean, you really appear to be in pain…
Paige: Ya, right. Pain is far from the mere frustration I feel… in that I am simply not equal under the law of this home.
Annabelle: Come on Paige, don’t think I don’t notice Mom’s bullshit motive in ignoring you. I can see now, that it’s not you…it’s her…and I know why.
Paige: Wow, I didn’t think you were capable of that…
Annabelle: Capable of what?
Paige: Looking at someone outside of yourself.
Annabelle: Well, you’re not the only one trying to go about your business without the noses of others in your way. I do what I need to do to play my part, and play to the level expected. You don’t always accomplish the most by being the insightful child. Sometimes you just have to know your role.
Paige: Well, you’re giving mom all the excuses in the world to ignore what she is responsible for. In her mind, your overwhelming neediness and drama keeps her occupied being a “mother” While I am just, well…not a problem I guess! But maybe I should start giving her a run for her money, ya know, start tugging just as hard on the other arm… drive her mad! Madder than she already is!
Annabelle: You don’t want to do that Paige, it’s not worth it. Stick it out, you’ll be 18 before you know it. And who knows… this big ugly secret might just blow over if and when you decide to flip your lid and let it be known.
Paige: I can’t believe it. You know about this, how long have you known about this?
Annabelle: Paige, you can confide in me… I haven’t told a soul.

Fringe and 'He Hale Kou' by Rebecca V

I responded most to the last piece, being Nick’s, because I felt the character development throughout the piece was not forced. There was a beginning, middle and end that arched the plays’ entirety, where I felt I had a clear understanding of each character’s wants and needs. The dynamics between Ellen and Roderick were clear and concise, something that I felt was lacking in comparison to the plays prior. Also, I felt the intensity of the more dramatic moments were based on characters needs, as oppose to the influences of drama (for the sake of having dramatic moments) itself. The moments where Roderick mentioned wanting to pet Ellen, as he pets a dog in hopes that she would then want to be her friend was a precise, secluded moment into his character, which I felt was previously hinted at through his use of barking whenever his doorbell rang as well as the moments where he felt a need to rely on the ownership of dogs as an excuse for his being absent and/or unavailable. For the concept of peeling back layers as a way to define a character, and find out more about what drives them, I found that Nick’s piece had a well-balanced approach between drama and dialogue, which is something that I’m continuously working with in my pieces.

The play that I’m currently working with seems to rely on the relationships between each character, as well as the weight in their past experiences in comparison to their current situations. The problems of what each character is specifically after, as well as where their voice fits in with the overall concept of the play is what I am constantly grappling with. I am having a hard time allowing each character their space to speak, and more so, what it is they are yearning to get across to the characters around them. The location is set in Hawai’i, specifically North Shore on the island of O’ahu. The area is far away from the influences of town and/or tourism and certain parts of that area on the island lack electricity. The idea of ‘He Hale Kou’ which translates into ‘you have a house’ invites the sense that each character has played a part in building a house on a remote part of an island that they can each return to at any point in their lives, under the condition that only the four of them that built it in the beginning have access to it’s insides. The areas I feel allow the most exploration are about what time period the characters are in, as well as what they will do with/do each other, that will affect the shared space of the house overall.

Caroline's Response to Fringe Show

Do a one or two paragraph written response to seeing the Fringe plays. Answer any or all of the following:

- Which piece did you most respond to? Why?

Honestly, I responded to Nick’s piece the most because there was a natural pace to the progression of the relationship. It was charming and sweet. It also mixed visual indicators of progression that served just as strongly as the dialogue to show growth, such as the light bulb and the coffee. The man with Asperger’s was strange enough but funny enough to hold onto my interest while still remaining believable and definitely enjoyable The other pieces worked. The theme of the first piece compelled me to reflect on honesty and the politics of truth. The images in the second piece fit the slow piece and though it was not the most engaging piece, I still was drawn into the silent world of the unhappy couple. The dancing and live video feed assisted the dynamism of the silence, so that action manifested in a different way other than plot.

In addition, do a one-paragraph summary of the piece you're working on in class.

Pedro is coming back. I’m going to play with extending the piece, though I am happy with it as a one-act. There’s more I’d like to go into…especially Pedro and his struggle with identity and abandonment. I’d like to include more “real” or serious (though funny) conversations with his mother and perhaps even more confrontation on his father’s part, to try to encourage him to be a better man (and grow up). Though the piece works with its original arch, I think it could go deeper into cultural issues within the Latino community, such as absentee fathers and children being raised on illusions of success instead of true, personal success. I think I’m going to have the parents pester him a little more; Mami, in reality, and Papi, in a fantastical way. Hopefully, it’s not too forced, but it’s already set up for more and I would like to explore.

Randall Jong's Response to Fringe and summary of Play

Randall Jong

Fringe Response and Play outline


1. I thought “The Ballad of 423 and 424” and “Brave, Battling Autism” were two plays that really captured my imagination for the stage. In “Brave, Battling Autism” the use of silence and movement were surprising because it took me to an uncomfortable place. I wanted to here them say something, but when they didn’t I was more focused on the little details: the way he kept fiddling with his hands, the way she looked at him. And then they danced and conveyed so much information about their relationship than what words can. The Character of the MC was really compelling because she was speaking Spanish (which I know very little of) and held this camera that zoomed in on those physical details. Why was she there? Why was she needed?
For “The Ballad of 423 and 424” I thought the use of set and light were truly effective in portraying Ellen and Roderick’s relationship. The doors at the end of the play, when they were opened, was such a strong image for me because it gave me a visual space where I can see the change of the story. It left me wondering if those doors will ever be closed.

2. The relationship between Angie and Boy is a sibling affair with this “ideal” couple of Carol and Mike causing the action and drama. While I was writing the rest of this one act play, Carol and Mike became really strong characters that further developed into Angie and the Boy’s relationship. The lie Angie told that her and the Boy are getting married gets to be the base for other lies and secrets, and for me, it allowed the characters to explore their carnal desires and wants. One of the problems I have is to effectively tie in certain themes into the play…like the theme of being someone or something else (reincarnation). I find that theme strong in all four characters: Angie, Boy, Carol, and Mike.

Fringe and Process Response #1

Safiya Martinez
CW 602—professor Conboy
Responses to The Fringe One-Acts


After seeing three one-act plays at The Fringe, I realized that I responded most to The Ballad of 423 and 424. I felt that the dynamic between Ellen and Roderick was established effectively at the beginning—Roderick as Ellen’s struggling neighbor, Ellen as Roderick’s slightly beleaguered love interest. We later discover that Roderick has Aspberger’s. Roderick clearly is infatuated with Ellen, and she is dealing with her own bouts of loneliness and loss, and these issues were some of the reasons that the characters had a hard time connecting initially .
I felt that the writing and direction moved the pace along beautifully. The tensions created in the cat-and-mouse game between Roderick and Ellen was at once believable, heartbreaking and hilarious. There were surprising moments sprinkled throughout the play. When Ellen brought over the Easter meal, I thought for sure the characters were going to connect, but of course Roderick became shy and retreated to his apartment.
An interesting part of their dynamic was that the characters went back and forth between needing one another—the kind of interdependence that develops over time between people—and running away due to fear of intimacy and the scariness of expectations. I particularly enjoyed how the play ended—on the note of openness and possibility for both characters. Perhaps there may be a future of some kind of Roderick and Ellen. Or maybe, the possibility of a nurturing friendship is really at the heart of this engaging work.














Safiya Martinez
CW 602—Professor Conboy
Response to In-progress work



2. In addition, do a one-paragraph summary of the piece you're working on in class. Just try to sum up how the piece is developing for you. How are the characters and stories developing. What do you see as the opportunities for more exploration in the piece. Where do you think you're having problems?




I am working on scenes that are intended for a one-woman show based on my life as a first-year teacher in New York City. The piece see-saws between two perspectives: life at school, the teachers’ personal life. In the world of school, I embody different characters, mostly students. In scenes and monologues I act out student fears, anxieties and frustrations. I also seek to give voice to their hopes and innate intelligence. I am working on new sections to bring my own voice forward, and these have been some of the more challenging scenes to write. Interestingly enough, many of the characters to emerge initially were male voices, and it’s been a lot of fun getting in touch with what makes a middle school boy tick, and dramatizing that for the stage.
I also had a great time with Vanessa, a character who is a thirteen-year old girl in the seventh grade. She has, in my opinion a lot of righteous anger at the world, at her school and at the boys in the school who in some ways, do run the show. At this point, what I want to work on is finding my story arc. I have been working on this project for nine months, and have lots of scenes. Several of which fit well together, but I still don’t have the more elusive component: the thematic or structural glue that holds them together. I hope that as I continue to write, some of the opacity I’m dealing with at this stage in the writing process clears up a bit. However, I remain excited and ready to move forward with these stories.

10.6.10 "The best dyke" Elina G-

LORI

Your nails are a little too short here.

LUIS

Oh I know it's because Myriam likes it this way.

LORI

But you're the owner of your fingers, I mean if I were with you, I'm just saying, don't think I wanna be with you I mean it would be so awkward. I mean it's not that you're not attractive in a positive way I mean to me you're positive you're attractive I mean I like your fingers they're thin and gracious especially your thumb it seems vigorous and soft but I think you should do what the fuck (she says it to show him she can use bad words, it sounds fake) you want with your body because you have an elegant gesture and anyway I think I'm homophobic I mean homosexual

LUIS

Oh that's cool are you seeing anyone?

LORI

No, I'm available. I mean I saw Katharine Hepburn in a sitcom the other day and also Venus Williams holding her racket up in the air when she won game set and match ; and Patti Smith on youtube and I know I'm an homosexual. But I mean... I'm open you know. If you wanna have a coffee sometimes I know this place it's a beautiful bench in a Park the bench is green and the Park is green and I love Nature, do you love Nature?

LUIS

Definitely. We should go hiking sometimes, it would be fun.

LORI

OH YES. Give me your number I'll send you a message in a text Friday night around 7 when it's week end time!

LUIS

Sure. 360 985 9663. I'm kind of flaky, I'll try to call you back but you know I spend a lot of time with Myriam and she's pretty jealous.

LORI

Oh I understand. Women, huh...

PROFESSOR LAUTNER

Hey happy campers! You really think you're roasting marshmallows on the beach don't you? Ah! Giving your phone number.. Why don't you give your address, your keys and beg for harassment instead? Jesus.

LORI, smiling smoothly

Don't worry Luis, I would never do that to you...

Pause.

LORI

I can see why you're so into Myriam though, she has great taste. She lives in the pretty red house at the end of Webster street, doesn't she?

Sophie/10-7-10/Pamela

Sophie

Why do you keep after me Tom. I’m not some bloody hare pinned between the posts, now am I? I won’t be beholden to any man. You’re probably thinkin’ “Well after all, ain’t she beholden to all them blokes what comes here to see her?” I’m not you know. It’s just a kind of...arrangement. That’s all. It’s like buyin’ an apple at the grocer you understand. They gives me what I need to take care of the nipper and me–an somes for Gerte mind you–but they won’t have a piece of me.
(Long pause) I was just fifteen when I had the nipper. I was workin’ for a family in Gloucester-- Fetchin’ this, cookin that, tidying up after all those that was too lazy to put their own pot on to boil. I was grateful, mind, comin’ from the orphanage and all.
His name was Johnny, wasn’t it–bloody joke that is–when he found out I was gonna have the nipper he up and left without so much as a “by your leave.” Not a word ta nobody. Well, they wasn’t gonna have me around in that state, was they? I had ta make me own way then, didn’t I? Gerte was the only person what showed us the least bit a concern. Little Julie’s me only concern now. I don’t know that I’ll ever see the likes of a decent life, but she deserves better ya understand.
You don’t really love me Tom......it’s just...... ya never had no one be really kind to ya. Have ya Tom. It’s not me ya need. Ya want ta call me your own but...I won’t ever be yours, ya understand.
(Long pause) Thanks for fixin’ me shoes, luv......Tom......thanks.

Beth Bauler - 10/6/10 - Just Ask

Just Ask

Characters:
Sally – a young girl (about 8 or so) who has been diagnosed with a serious illness.
Friend – Sally’s imaginary friend that Richard (her father) cannot see or hear. Friend wears a doctor’s costume that looks too large, like a child playing dress-up.

FRIEND
What do you want to do?

SALLY
(A little tired.) I don’t know. What do you want to do?

FRIEND
I asked first!

SALLY
I don’t know.

FRIEND
Do you want to play anything?

SALLY
Not really.

FRIEND
You’re boring.

SALLY
I just don’t feel up to playing.

FRIEND
Bor – ring! Come on – let’s play!

SALLY
Play what?

FRIEND
Uhh… Tag! Let’s play tag!

SALLY
I’m tired. I don’t want to play now.

FRIEND
Ugh! Come on – you have to!

SALLY
Why?

FRIEND
Because if you don’t I’ll sneak downstairs and tip over the fish bowl and tell Richard it was you who did it!

SALLY
Dad can’t hear you.

FRIEND
Well . . . he’ll blame you! There’s no one else to blame – so there.

SALLY
He loves that stupid fish.

FRIEND
He loves it more than he loves you!

SALLY
What?

FRIEND
It’s true!

SALLY
No it’s not –

FRIEND
Don’t act like you don’t know.

SALLY
I’m not . . .

FRIEND
Don’t lie! It’s true and you know it!

SALLY
Well – I – Don’t be stupid! How could my dad love a fish more than he loves me?

FRIEND
Oh! Oh! Oh! I know! I know! Pick me! Pick me! (Raising his hand, jumping up and down.)

SALLY
Well?

FRIEND
Pick me! Pick me! Pick –

SALLY
You!

FRIEND
Me?

SALLY
Yes!

FRIEND
Richard loves his stupid fish more than he loves you because he only has to feed his fish once a day – and he actually has to take care of you. He has to take you to the doctors’, and refill your prescriptions, and make sure –

SALLY
Okay – okay – okay. I get it.

FRIEND
Do I get a prize now?

SALLY
What?

FRIEND
Do I get a –

SALLY
For what?

FRIEND
For answering the question correctly?

SALLY
No.

FRIEND
Awww . . . (Pause.) Oh! Oh! I know this one! I know it!

SALLY
What now?

FRIEND
Pick me! Pick –

SALLY
You!

FRIEND
I know how you can get Richard to love you more.

SALLY
How?

FRIEND
You could go away.

SALLY
What do you mean?

FRIEND
You could go away. Like Mommy did.

SALLY
(Pause.) Couldn’t I just . . . run away, or something?

FRIEND
Nope. If you did that, they would just find you and bring you back.

SALLY
Well . . . how . . . how would I –

FRIEND
There’s lots of ways.

SALLY
Like?

FRIEND
Oh! Oh! I know –

SALLY
You!

FRIEND
Stop taking your medication.

SALLY
Dad would never let me stop –

FRIEND
You don’t know! You should ask! See what he says.

SALLY
I don’t know.

FRIEND
Oh come on! What are you so scared of, Sally? Oh – that could be your new nickname! Scared Sally! Scared Sally!

SALLY
Shut up – I am not scared to ask!

FRIEND
Then why don’t you?

SALLY
Fine – I will.

FRIEND
Ask him as soon as he gets home from work!

SALLY
Fine. (Pause.) But you have to help me bring it up, okay?

FRIEND
Okay!

SALLY
Promise?

FRIEND
Promise! What are friends for?

The Island In The Hills (Susan Monologue) BY: Andi Smith

Susan tells the girls she is headed out to see her esthetician for a waxing. However in the next scene, we see her sitting on a leather sofa ranting to her shrink, Dr. Gawken.

I told Richard he has to take the girls on his next trip to the Bahamas. The money just isn’t enough to keep them happy, as much as it is for me-- I’m just concerned they need more of a tangible investment from him, like actually being a father.
I can’t imagine being up against his whiny wife. That whiny, skinny, demented, childlike doll figure, oh god it just makes me nauseous….
And while I’m on the subject of sickening disappointments- Annabelle is kissing girls and Paige doesn’t do anything but stay home and read… Sometimes on the patio though… Paige will read in the sun and peel tangerines. And I look at Paige’s life, so normal, or how she manages to appear so normal- as she deals with her obnoxiously vein and unfair mother1 … but who doesn’t to some degree? My mom stayed home most of my life, very ill, while I shed sweat and tears caring for her, and then she left me- she took her own life and I hate her for that.
So unless I suddenly decide to kill myself from this island of riches, I’d say I’ve done a damn good job for my girls. I don’t know though, there are times when I catch Paige looking at me, looking into me like she really could kill me…and it’s as if she knows Richard isn’t her father- that I’ve been lying to her all this time, time stops and I feel that lump of guilt I’ve been telling you about…. swelling in my throat.

I always worry if I look right at her, she’ll read it all over my face…

And I guess I could shut my mouth and stop embarrassing her… but shit…I talk the way I talk because she needs to hear it, just like anyone deserves to know the pain before the blind-sided crash. Life isn’t peachy out there for anyone. She acts all smart and proper, and calm, rolling her eyes at our dysfunctional family, when really – that “functional” family she thinks is out there...Ya, that family doesn’t exist.
It’s just me, that’s all she’s got! And Richard, the one she says she most relates to, well all be damned- good for her. And I’ll really be damned if he ever finds out about this.
Lucky for me the biological father doesn’t have a clue and could be dead for all I know, so that leaves the only other known resource to be …..my own relentless conscience. And I really just wish it would let me fucking sleep- that reminds me, I’m here because I need a re-fill on my Ambien…

By: Andi Smith

Randall Jong's Monologue for 10/6/10

BOY
The only time I can really recall missing someone was my second day in first grade. My mom dropped me off…I met my friends…I forgot what I did with them…but I remembered I smiled. I smiled a lot. Wide, child-like smiles…smiles that I can not replicate at this age even if I’m truly happy or excited or in the mood to smile. And at that moment, with my friends, that wide, child-like smile existed. But right before class, and I don’t know why right before, I started thinking about my mom. I started thinking about her white hair among her old black hair…how it was so easy to pluck the white strands from their roots. And how every time I plucked a black one, she would squeak, “ouch”. Just “ouch” as if she was mimicking my voice. A baby mouse‘s voice. So…I missed her. And it wasn’t so much she wasn’t there that really bothered me…it was more of a realization that someday everyone I know will go away…and that I couldn’t handle that thought…granted I was in first grade…but I pictured myself as a king back then. A relatively strong king...armed with a sword made from sapphire. And I cried. I cried because I had no control of what would happen to the ones I know. I cried because that realization would come again in some shape or form.
(pause. Angie enters mimicking the previous night)
It was 2:46 in morning when I woke up to Angie searching the dark for something. The only thing I could really see was her white tank-top. She’s darting from corner to corner. RELAX! But I couldn’t say that and she kept moving, trying to walk quietly but only creating more precise sounds of feet to floor. And then she got on her knees.
(beat)
And I can’t explain this, but she started scratching the floorboards.
(beat)
Digging with her index finger on a single spot of the wood as if relieving it of an itch. That’s all I heard…all night long…stch, stch, stch, stch, stch. What the hell is that? Tell me. What are you looking for? Is this an act of pain? Is your way burying your sins, your anger? Because I don’t buy it. Would I miss you? Would I die for you? You. This.
(pause. Angie looks up at the boy but remains in her present moment. He directing his voice to her.)
I believe in reincarnation, Angie. Not the reincarnation with any religious undertones. Just…I believe that when you die you have a chance to be something else. Anything. And if I had to choose I wouldn’t choose any physical being. I’d choose an abstract. Something invisible. Something you can feel without really understanding it…something that you have to label in order to grasp a concrete thought. I want to be reincarnated into love. The rawness of love. And I don’t mean material love, or lover’s love, or parental love, or sibling love, or God’s love. Only a pure feeling. No explanation required. I want to understand what we do and why we do it, without a question…k…and without an answer.
(two knocks on the door. Angie slowly creeps away as the boy follows her with his stare)
Futon people.
(two knocks on the door)
Okay! I’m coming.

Anita's "The Gathering" (Performed in class on 9/22/10)

HARP
Your most recent book, “Sane In The City” is in San Francisco bookstores now. Can you tell us a little bit about it?

EVA
All the stories revolve around the people living in the Nick Buena Apartments downtown.
HARP
Tell us about it.

EVA
It’s a 350-unit apartment complex located downtown.

HARP
Single Resident Occupancies…?

EVA
Well, yes and no. They’re like SRO’s because they’re small economy-sized apartments but the government provides minimal assistance. Like tax breaks--most of the residents are single adults with low incomes. (Make a quote on quote sign w/ both hands when saying “low”)

HARP
Students? Artists?

EVA
No. Mostly working adults with full-time, some part-time jobs.

HARP
Interesting. I know you used to live in San Francisco…

EVA
I did. When I first graduated from college, I lived in a similar type of building and even though I was tired all the time from working full-time, I always had ideas festering in my head…


HARP
You say festering? Why? Was that a difficult situation?

EVA
Sure. In college I served as editor for the schools literary magazine. And lots of kids wrote about city life. Although I had been writing about city life even before I started to review their pieces.

HARP
Wow. Okay...so what was it for you that pushed you to take on the subject that so many people were already writing about?

EVA
Well, it was only so many in the sense that it was a common theme amongst college students. But in real life, there weren’t any books out there about the realities of downtown living. Plus, I thought I had a rather unique perspective.

HARP
Can you tell us more about that?

EVA
I lived just feet away from the Bay Bridge. Sure, we had double-payne windows that minimized the noise, but sometimes you couldn’t help but want to open the window.

HARP
(Laughs) Right. You wrote, That Thing! That Bridge. It got some very good reviews. What are you expecting from this next book?

EVA
Well, naturally I’m hoping my circle of readers will expand. And I’m hoping that those who enjoyed my first book will pick up this latest one.

AUDIENCE I
I really enjoyed your first book. Especially how each character struggled with surviving in those difficult conditions. You managed to capture some original voices. I can’t want to read this next one.


EVA
Thank you. I worked especially hard on this latest book and tried to create even more characters that everyone could relate to as well.

AUDIENCE II
Yeah, I agree with what him/her. I can’t wait to start on this next book. Isn’t there are character who ends up playing for the Giants? Was that inspired by any real-life players? And are you a Giants fan?

EVA
(Laughs) Not until I started researching. A lot of my work comes from real life. There are some writers who say absolutely nothing comes from real life. And that’s something I’m thinking about too—as far as where I’d like to possibly take my work.

AUDIENCE III
Maybe venturing into science fiction?

EVA
I’ve thought about it. In college, I wrote some pretty descent sci-fi pieces. Jack London, one of my favorite fiction writers, wrote some pretty impressive sci-fi. He was born in San Francisco, in the same exact area where I used to live.

AUDIENCE I
Yes, right up from AT&T Park. On 3rd Street. There’s a plaque on the building that says he was born there. Of course the original building was wrecked in a fire.

EVA
Right. I’ve been there too.

HARP
(Gets up from seat)
We’d better start setting up the book signing booth. Since there aren’t too many people yet, we could probably continue questions from there. If you don’t mind. It’s all informal for now.


EVA
(Gets up from seat)
Sure.

Our Husband's Mothers

POLICE MAN

Tell us the relationship with your husband.

LADY

He’s my husband.

POLICEMAN

Okay.

LADY

We fuck exclusively.

POLICEMAN

Besides that.

LADY

I don’t know, sir, are you asking me about my theories on marriage?

POLICEMAN

Just your particular marriage.

LADY

I believe in two people having their own thing and sharing a bed. That’s what we do. I teach and dance but at the end of the day, my husband knows I’m coming back to him. Sometimes we share stuff, sometimes he sees my shows. Most of the time, we just hold each other, after sex. Is that what you wanted to know.

POLICEMAN

It’s kind of helpful. Does your husband share his passions with you?

LADY

Oh, he has passion, no doubt about that.

POLICEMAN

What does he do?

LADY

He works. And he likes to fight—

POLICEMAN

Fight?

LADY

MMA. And boxing. I go see his fights sometimes. When I’m not in a show.

POLICEMAN

Would you say you’re best friends?

LADY

Excuse me?

POLICEMAN

Do you and your husband—are you and your husband close?

LADY

Of course, don’t nobody else do what we do with each other.

POLICEMAN

Are you sure about that?

LADY

Sir, what are you asking me? If you want to know if he tells me every second of his day, the answer is hell no. I don’t need to know. He shares his emotions when he needs to, I share mines. And we, you know, fuck it out. And fight sometimes, and pray too. But mostly we just relax. That’s how we support each other. He is not my everything. I am not his everything. But we are each other’s.

POLICEMAN

Do you know he kills people. And sells drugs.

LADY

We each have our own thing.

POLICEMAN

You don’t mind?

LADY

If what you’re saying is true, I don’t see how that automatically makes him a bad person. Don’t you kill people?

POLICEMAN

It’s not exactly the same thing.

LADY

So, what, if my husband joined the arm forces, or the police, he’d all of a sudden not be a murderer. What is the definition of murder, sir?

POLICEMAN

I think we misunderstand each other…

LADY

I think you don’t understand. You think wars are only official if they’re legal.

POLICEMAN

What if I told you, your husband cheated on you?

LADY

He wouldn’t do that.

POLICEMAN

What if I had proof? Would you think he was bad?

LADY

It wouldn’t make him a bad person…maybe a bad husband, but not a bad person… Just like the other stuff…maybe it makes him a bad citizen, but he is no worse than you and I.

POLICEMAN

We have proof of him spending time with this woman…a Miss Gloria Harper. Do you know her.

LADY

No, I don’t recognize her.

POLICEMAN

He spends a lot of time with her. And we have records of phone calls.

LADY

What kind of case are you making, sir.

POLICEMAN

I think you don’t know your husband, miss.

LADY

I know more than meets the eye, and that’s enough for me.

POLICEMAN

A faithful woman.

LADY

I try. I’m not perfect, but I try.

POLICEMAN

Have you always been this loyal?

LADY

That’s marriage.

POLICEMAN

You’re a beautiful woman, you could probably have your choice of any man.

LADY

Thank you.

POLICEMAN

So, why this man?

LADY

Everyone else is boring. People who pretend to be good, are hiding something. Even the saints know they’re sinners, but bad priests and policemen…try to seem perfect. What are your sins, officer? You throwing rocks from your own pile? Are you faithful to your wife? Have you always been?

POLICEMAN

I’m divorced.

LADY

Why?

POLICEMAN

(Pause) She was a liar.

LADY

Did she cheat?

POLICEMAN

I think so.

LADY

Well, I’m sorry about that.

POLICEMAN

So you don’t know about your husband’s involvement with this woman? Or do you pretend not to see his… discrepancies.

LADY

I see everything, sir. And I still love. Maybe that’s stupid, but love is stupid, and criminals deserve love—they need it just like you. Maybe you’re jealous of my husband.

POLICEMAN

He’s lucky in one department, I guess.

LADY

May I keep this picture.

POLICEMAN

Sure.

LADY

She’s pretty.

POLICEMAN

Not as pretty as you.

LADY

I know that. But that doesn’t matter in the moment.

POLICEMAN

Do you have doubts, Mrs. Flores?

LADY

Everybody has doubts, Mr. Warner. It’s how we go about living with them that matters.

POLICEMAN

Your husband will be going under trial when we find him. And there will be plenty of evidence against his character.

LADY

Well, this is the only part I’m interested in. (Pause) What did you say her name was?

POLICEMAN

Gloria. Harper. Gloria Harper.

LADY

Thank you. I heard you the first time.

POLICEMAN

So, you won’t testify against him? Or for him?

LADY

Like I said, sir, I didn’t marry someone to be perfect, or even to reflect the beliefs I know are true and good. I married my match. And we made a pact. And that’s the only thing I have to testify to. With God. The rest is your job. (Pause) Are we done?

POLICEMAN

Are you all right, Mrs. Flores?

LADY

Nancy. I’m fine. May I go?

POLICEMAN

I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just trying to find out the truth.

LADY

Why?

POLICEMAN

Because somebody is always guilty.

LADY

Well, you definitely have strong evidence.

POLICEMAN

I’m sorry.

LADY

Why are we always looking to blame somebody? Do you solve anything with your killing and arresting, officer Warren? What does the law do for us except point a finger?

POLICEMAN

I don’t know. It gives us a sense of what’s right.

LADY

By showing us we’re always wrong? (Pause) We just had one rule… But everything gets broken. Everything is broken. We should have laws that fix things, don’t you think. I think, I think if what you’re saying is true…then my husband’s punishment should be, to have to love me anyway. And fuck me every night until he forgets every other woman he’s touched. As for your issue with him…I think you…and him…should go to all the homes you’ve broken…of all the people you’ve taken sons away from…and serve them. And instead of taxes…instead of them paying for the poison you shoot into criminals, and the prisons you build, people should have to pay with their hearts. And let you serve them.

POLICEMAN

Are you suggesting I serve you, Nancy?

LADY

I suggest you go to Carlos’ mother’s house with wine and a box of chocolates. And that you make my home his prison. My bed his cell… And send him out to work in the houses or work places of everyone he’s hurt along the way.

POLICEMAN

Mrs. Flores, for someone who knows how the world works, you sound very idealistic.

LADY

I guard myself from the world, Mr. Warren. It’s a shady place and it’s blind to the good. I’m an ignorant. Maybe you should be talking to someone else. Maybe this Miss Harper will have the answers you want.

POLICEMAN

All right. Thank you for your time.

LADY

Have a nice night. (Pause) And…fuck you, Mr. Warren. For looking for the bad. Seeking it out…

POLICEMAN

It can’t be ignored.

LADY

Did your divorce make you any happier? Was it…what’s the word, retribution, Mr. Warren? Did it give you peace?

POLICEMAN

Maybe ignorance is more peaceful, Mrs. Flores.

LADY

Maybe forgiveness is.

POLICEMAN

I’ll get the door for you, if you let me.

LADY

Fine.

POLICEMAN

(Pause) Will you forgive me, Nancy?

LADY

You didn’t do anything, Mr. Warren. It’s better to know the truth.

POLICEMAN

I think so too. But the truth hurts sometimes.

LADY

It does…but it what’s we think we have to do because of the truth that hurts even more.

POLICEMAN

You’re very wise.

LADY

That’s only because you’re not my husband.

POLICEMAN

Well tell him, we say hello. And that we look forward to meeting him.

LADY

Goodbye.

POLICEMAN

I’d take you out for coffee, sometime, Mrs…Nancy.

LADY

Excuse me?

POLICEMAN

You’re a good woman. You deserve to be treated right—

LADY

Goodbye, officer.

POLICEMAN

I didn’t mean to disrespect—

LADY

Yes you did. It’s okay…I’m good at keeping secrets. I’m shutting the door now.

POICEMAN

Oh, yeah. Sure. Goodnight.

Molly: Response to I'm not stupid

I think that the first monologue written in this piece may have been the one where the mother is talking about how her son is just like a dog. This idea is central to the piece and may have been the author's first idea. To have a mother think of her son as a mere animal and not a person seems like it would have been a good jumping off point for the creation of this piece.

Molly: Letter to Henry 9/29

I woke up and for the first time the animals were gone from the snow covered grounds, the white winter wonderland where we’ve held them for too long, cold. And I’ve been held for too long, cold. I look out the window: winter, spring, summer, or fall, it’s always the same—acres and acres of lost dreams, won by chance. You won Henry, but think of what you lost. Think—don’t you remember? You wanted to be a writer once, why did you ever put down your pen? Don’t answer that. I know what you’re going to say, and you know it never mattered to me. You sacrificed your art, traded it in for marble counters and silk ties. You did it for me, for our future. But, you’ve made me put my dreams on the cutting board with yours- - don’t you see that? Everyday you ask me, “aren’t you happy?” Do I look happy? I’ve forgotten how to smile, Henry, how to laugh.

I used to sit and look at the stars, map out paths, lives, that I’d never remember, but they were mine. Each night I’d leap from constellation to constellation, never ending in the same place in the sky, but always knowing they’d lead me home. And then I’d be called in, too late to be sitting outside-- it wasn’t proper for a young lady… all the excuses they used to give to bind me. And I listened for a long while, but eventually time moved on, paths changed, and the stars faded, never leading me anywhere true. I couldn’t pretend anymore about what they wanted for me and I grew up. The great thing about growing up, Henry, was that I didn’t have to pretend anymore, I knew what I wanted. You. And from that, they couldn’t keep me.

You came to me that day, after I emptied my shoebox filled of childish memories, and threw away my pocket full of stars saved for rainy days. I’d told them that nothing could stop our love and if they didn’t want you they couldn’t have me. That wasn’t enough for them, so I packed my things and left. But, I didn’t go far; you had won our life in hand of poker and with it their approval. They thought you were rich, a gentleman made in an hour, and so did you. But what is money worth? Not this life. This life that I cannot live anymore. A life I’m sure I never mapped out, never wanted.

But where do I go from here? I’m more constricted than ever. Everyone ended up happily ever after, except me. They got the fairy tale wedding and all the riches that came along with it. And you? I wish I could say you only wanted me, but my name is too important for you to forget. You gallivant through town, throwing money here and there, just to make sure any visitor knows who is king of the mountain. You’re my prince charming, yet you refuse to save me. I’m still the same girl who would risk it all for a chance at happiness. And I did, but money has changed you into something that you’re not. Or maybe it’s made you who you really are. In any case, Henry, you aren’t the man I married any longer. And I can’t wait around hoping that one day you will be again.

Night Part One: Rebecca Rae V.

Night. BOY enters stage right and feels his hand across the wall until he reaches a bureau. His free hand fumbles with a key hanging from his neck. There is a candle waiting to be lit on the bureau before him. GIRL is sitting across the room at a single table with two chairs in a wedding dress. Her face is streaked with make-up. A bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes is at her side on the table. She is smoking.

GIRL: Need a light.

(flicks a book of matches between them. Boy catches them with his hand(OR)boy lets them fall at his side and stares at her for a long moment before proceeding to pick them up and light the candle on the bureau. Following, he reaches into his pocket in search of cigarettes. Finding none, he makes his way to the table and sits across GIRL)

BOY: A little early to be sportin’ that get-up isn’t it?

GIRL: I’m practicing.
(She slides the cigarette pack across the table, slowly, taking her time)

BOY: Practicin’. (picks cigarette out from pack and lights it) What’s theya tah practi—

GIRL: Why are you here (Why did you come back). Jacob.

BOY: I’m the best man!

GIRL: You’re the best liar.

BOY: saaaaamme thing, sweets.

GIRl: quit your fucking around.

BOY: Fuckin’ around? Whose fuckin’ around? Speakin’ of—what’s goin’ on with yer hayha?

GIRL: (flatly) Something wrong with it?

BOY: Wrong with it?! What isn’t wrong with it? Yaheva seen a comb in yah life, I mean jesus. (……..)What happened to yer curls?
GIRL: They’re here.

BOY: Where.

GIRL: The trashcan.

BOY: THE TRASH--!—(pointing) THIS trashcan?!

GIRL: I cut them.

BOY: When—

GIRL: (Just) Now, when I heard you were coming.

BOY: (whispers) Damn you.

GIRL: (Throws scissors on the table between them) Still warm.

BOY: Grow up, will ya?

GIRL: You started it. You’re the one who left.

BOY: You know why I left

GIRL: Then why the hell come back Jacob—

BOY: STOP calling me that—

GIRL: (You) Should have just allowed five years to morph into ten so I could learn to forget you altogether—

BOY: I AM here for the same reasons you ahe (sweets). Just like evvvverrry other time you or I have tried to convince ourselves o’ somethin’ different.

GIRL: Don’t feed me that bullshit again—

BOY: We are tied to this house—

GIRL: Give me the key—

BOY: You an’ me. Just like always. Always been, always wi—

GIRL: Jacob.

BOY: (grabs another cigarette from the pack and lights it, keeping his eyes on GIRL throughout the entire movement) Get yer own.

GIRL: (You know) I’d have to tear down the walls to do that.

BOY: What’s stopping you.

GIRL: I’m not that restless.

BOY: (leaning towards her, resting his arms on the table) Maybe I like you bettah restless.

GIRL: (copies movement of BOY and leans forward to rest her arms in the same position on table. Their faces now inches apart from one another.) And I like you better without that damn key around your neck.

BOY: Like the time you threw yer drink in the bahtendahs face aftah he tried tah kiss yer cheek—

GIRL: That was a long time ago.

BOY: Not long enough tah ferget—

GIRL: Some things are worth forgetting.

BOY: (reaches up to brush a strand of hair away from her eyes) Not all things. (his hand follows the outline of her chin and he brushes his thumb across her lips)(speaks softly)What happened to that spark burstin' inside you?

GIRL: It started a fire.

BOY: I didn’t come heya tah talk about fiyahs.

GIRL: It set everything in my life ablaze—

BOY: (continuing to caress her lips with his thumb) Like yer painting?

GIRL: (Grabs his wrist and holds it steady next to her face) (Stern) What did you say?

BOY: Chalie told me yer (not paintin’ anymoha) brushes have been in the sun room long enough tah grow mold.

GIRL: (lets go of BOY’s arm and leans back against her chair, unscrewing the cap from the whiskey bottle) Why would he tell you that?

BOY: Because the bastahd thinks he loves you enough tah undahstand you (……..)

GIRL: Knock it off. Jacob.(Takes a large, exaggerated swig from whiskey bottle)

BOY: (And) He’s worried, and I SWEAYA TAH GOD if you call me Jacob one moah time—

GIRL: (teasingly)You’ll what?

BOY: ( laughs mockingly) And…you think things haven’t changed? You think that, just because you cut yer hayha off yer head they don't (still) belong to me ( anymoah)? Those locks ahhe MINE—trashcan or nahht!—Evah since the first day I met you and said, “You can keep everythin’ else o’ yers, but these curls—“

GIRL: (whispers) Enough.

BOY: ARE MINE.

GIRL: (slams bottle on table between them) I said enough!

BOY: (Leans across table and grabs her wrists tightly) You haven’t changed at all. Nothin’ has changed. I still know every thought in yer head. I still feel every motion o’ yer body. You still belong to me—

GIRL: (rips her wrists from his grasp and stands up) (Oh) And that is just SOOOO convenient for you, isn’t it? One morning you’re caressing me as my lover and the next you disappear on another one of your forget-me-not hiatus! It’s been FIVE YEARS Jacob! You left me (here) for FIVE. YEARS. Without so much as a god damn post card and you expect me to sit here before you and act as if everything (can be) as it was?! (….)

(extended pause between dialogue)

GIRL: (calmly) Look at me Jacob.

BOY: I sent you the bureau.

GIRL: The bureau? (She stalks over hurridly to the bureau, her anger rising once more) THIS bureau?! ( starts pulling on the center drawer handle of the bureau aggressively as it begins to shake and create noise)

BOY: (Watching her, about to stand) WATCH THE CANDLE!

GIRL: This fucking bureau with no home and no key?! Is this really you’re (only) response?

BOY: It wasn’t time fer you tah open it--

GIRL: (Oh) Clearly. And it never will be.

BOY: Why do you think (I came back to you) I’m heyah now?

GIRL: (Because) I’m engaged.

BOY: Yer drunk.

GIRL: (walks toward him and bends down to put her face inches from his) SAAAAME thing darlin’—

BOY: Stop lieing.

GIRL: Unlock the FUCKING bureau—

BOY: Yer tryin’ tah run from yerself again—

GIRL: And we’ll see who the liar is—

BOY: But you ferget that I AM you sweets. It’s you an’ me. An’ this house.

GIRL: This house is built on fear. A fear of forgetting. But I’m not afraid of forgetting anymore Jacob.

BOY: Shit ton o’ good it’s doin’ ya. Yer still heya. At this table. In this house. Right wheya I left ya.

9/29 Trey's monologue- Michelle V.

Trey is about to enter a Juvenile Hall, where he is to await his trial. He is currently being psychologically evaluated before being put in an appropriate Pod or self-contained areas.

TREY

It bothers me… no it pains me to hear that he’s missed. No, I didn’t say one goddamn thing about shooting him, did I? (shakes his head) Maybe the nice little officer that arrested me didn’t tell you about his rap sheet. (pause) I’m tired. The clothes you give us are to wear here, they keep me up. They’re stiff, and couldn’t keep a damn mouse warm in these stone walls. (pause, looks the psychologist up and down) I bet you came from a good family. (smirks) Nice haircut. Well Sammy didn’t have one growing up. You know, I used to go to school with that kid, and every day, and I mean every day he’d say something about how much he hated his step father. That bastard.

I met his mother a few times, and she wouldn’t even look me in the face when I came into the house. She’d hide a lot when she had to talk to us. She was ashamed of her bruises. The ones he gave her. You know he deserved it. Anyone would have done it, seeing her battered up like that. People loved her. And deep down, you’re glad scum like that is gone from the earth. When it comes to a human being like that, it doesn’t matter how he died, but that he died. That he’s gone. So that you don’t have to read another police report about it. Men like that have no right to pick on something so, so innocent. So gentle and nurturing… and… it’s not like she deserved it- you saw her! Kindest woman I’ve ever met… kind of like… my mom. (long pause) Before she died though.

Uhm, she died last year. Fell out of her bedroom window. (stares blankly down at the table) I didn’t, I don’t know what happened exactly. The police just said it was, that she was drunk, and yea, she drank a little, or a lot, but it’s only when he… when he’d hit her. Women, mothers especially shouldn’t be mistreated in that way. That’s the worst kind of way too. You should’ve seen her when she was sober. Mother of the year… no one could even come close. I was her everything, and she was mine. I’d do anything for her… anything. When I was a kid, the kids at school used to pick on me because I was smaller than all of them. They kept calling me baby. “Baby’s gonnna cry… baby doesn’t have his bottle… is he gonna cry?” And I’d get into some stupid fight and my mom would pick me up right away. And you know she never did yell at me, or tell me how disappointed she was in me. She just understood what I had to do in that situation.

So I understand why someone had to kill Sammy’s stepfather. If anything, I respect him. Because, I wish someone would have done the same for me. My mom, she was an alcoholic, it’s true, but it wasn’t because she wanted to be. It’s because he made her. She couldn’t handle the abuse alone… there had to be something she could turn too… I wasn’t enough, I was, I was too young and dumb to help her. All she had was that liquor that cabinet with the glass windows so she could window shop her next drink for the night. And if you’re judging my poor mother, then you can fuck off. Because that clean shaven face of yours, that fuckin haircut you got there and that red tie… is that silk?... it’s all a product of a nice, healthy, loving family. But I’m not judging you either. Don’t worry. You didn’t have it like me and Sammy. You were one of the lucky ones.

Assignment #5, performed 9/29

1
Safiya Martinez
Assignment #5
CW #602
Sammy is a fourteen year-old boy in an eighth grade class. He was born oxygen deprived,
and as a result suffered considerably. He has mobility issues, needs to use a motorized
wheelchair, and is severely underweight. Sammy’s hands lack the strength to manipulate a
keyboard or a pen for very long, and has aide who works as a scribe for him. He also has an
incredibly sharp wit, is astute interpersonally and can cut nearly anyone down to size with his
words alone. He is tough, and students recognize this. They do not treat Sammy as if he is a
victim, and whatever he serves up, his peers dish right back. He enjoys his popularity, but
there is a sadness too. Like any fourteen-year old boy, he is hormonal and curious, and really
just wants to find a girl who will date him.
SAMMY
Indiana, listen, listen what I want to know is why you never you know; stop when you see
me in the hall. I be trying to talk to you all the time, and you just out.

INDIANA
Shut up, Sammy. You’re the one who’s out. Your wheelchair goes type fast. I can’t keep up
with you.

SAMMY
No it’s not even like that. I’m always ducking this motherfucker right here—
[To Sean, his scribe and personal aide]

SEAN
Sammy—stop talking to me like that—

SAMMY
You be quiet, and bring me my water Sean.
And when you fill my water bottle, run that shit. And I mean, really run that shit. I don’t
want no germs, no lead in my shit. You understand? That’s how you get the bubonic plague
and all that.

SEAN
We’ve talked about this. You can get your own water.
2

SAMMY
Are you crazy or are you slow? I can barely press go on this bitch.
Get my water. And run that faucet for like a minute, minute and a half before you fill my
cup. You don’t watch The History Channel nigga? I know my history. You ain’t giving me
no infectious diseases cuz you tight you make minimum wage, and shit.
SEAN EXITS.

INDIANA
Why you talk to him like that?

SAMMY
I don’t like his ass, and he know it.

INDIANA
Rudeness. You so rude to everybody. That’s why nobody want to sit next to you at lunch.

SAMMY
What is you talking about? I stay with Darrel and them, all them cats in the tenth grade.

INDIANA
Whatever. You need to do your schoolwork, and stop playing around so much.

SAMMY
Well, I’m saying we could set up study dates and all that. You help me with math, you know
I’m hopeless, and I’ll write—not write, but help you Mr. Sugden’s position paper.

[SAMMY swats Indiana playfully]

SAMMY CONT’D
…C’mon yo, why you moving away?

INDIANA
Boy, you know you need to quit.

SAMMY
Alright, but you don’t need to leave though.

INDIANA
I have to go to afterschool, then my man is picking me up.

SAMMY
Word? Who you go out with?

INDIANA
[Sucks teeth, is quiet.]
3

SAMMY
Who you go out with? I won’t tell nobody.

INDIANA
With Michael.
SAMMY
Perkins?

INDIANA
Quinones.

SAMMY
Ugghh, I don’t like him. He stuck on stoops, and he got that fucked up ass hairline.

INDIANA
There is nothing wrong with his hair. And Sammy, you don’t like nobody.

SAMMY
A’ight, well I’mma see you tomorrow and you gonna help me with my math, right?

INDIANA
Yeah. See you tomorrow, Sammy…. [Turns away, then around to ask]
…Why you stay around here after class is over?

SAMMY
I gotta wait for Sean. He takes me out on the ramp.

INDIANA
Okay. See you tomorrow.

ENTER SEAN. He gives SAMMY his water bottle.

SAMMY
Thank you…

SEAN
It’s alright.

SAMMY
I’m not trying to bother you, but you think you could refill this? It’s a little warm.

SEAN
You’re coming with me then… and we’re going to the cooler. And you’re gonna fill it up.

SAMMY
A’ight, bet.

Anita's response to David E. Rodriguez's, "I'm Not Stupid"

Dr. Green’s two monologues located on pages 288 & 289 provides the audience with the most information about Roger and Ma.  His role is strong because of his unique position to analyze the two parties.  Plus, he’s a psychiatrist and definitely appears to be the most responsible here.  Therefore, my decision is based on character but I also think beginning with Dr. Green’s monologues helps to establish an emotional connection with the audience. 

Regret Monologue

So Em’s asked me the other day if I remembered what my first time was like. And I had to really think about it for a minute. Holy shit it’s been so long, and it seemed so far away like a mushroom trip from freshman year of high school. Oh Ricky. I lost my virginity freshman year to Ricardo, Ricardo… Ricar… what the fuck is his last name? Fuck I don’t believe I can’t remember his last name. Fucking weed. God I was so nervous but so was he. He was actually trembling and breathing like he had just sprinted to my house the moment I agreed to give him my virginity. He was so delicate like I was a dandelion. You know when they are all white like a blow ball and just a small breath could blow off all seeds off. He was that gentle. No ass smacking, no erotic asphyxiation, no handcuffs, no blow or weed, none of that shit. Everything he did was so amazing. Each touch, each kiss was like being touched on E. I mean when he was caressing my back and started kissing down my stomach it felt Incredible. Better than the sloppy drunken sex I have been having. Back then it was all so new and exciting and we just fit, like the first time we held hands and interlocked out fingers. When the foreplay finally ended and we started to have sex, everything stopped and it was like we were stealing time and we were never going to get caught, just Ricky and me in our own universe. I don’t remember the sex being like San Francisco earthquake-sex, decimating cities. But that didn’t mattered because we had this badass emotional connection. Just when we looked at each other it was different, the kind of connection that can only survive through innocence and ignorance. I miss that and I don’t at the same time. But the more I think about it the more I’m like, I really want feel like that again. I want to lose my breath and tingle again without being bent over my futon. (without putting my cervix through an mma fight.) I want to be nervous. I want to have those intense stares that make me blush and my eyes water. But how do you go back? It’s like heroin, the first high is best and you can never get that high ever again. That’s why the Chinese called it chasing the dragon but dragons don’t exist. So you keep chasing dragons and doing more drugs until finally your heart stops beating and your eyes don’t close. I don’t know what I want but I do know what I don’t want, I don’t want to be high anymore.