The Guy is here. He’s finished a day of teaching. He’s exhausted.
Another person enters. The Student – eighteen, energetic, a fun kid to be around. The Student looks busy.
THE GUY
Hey. How’s it going?
THE STUDENT
Good. But busy. As always. You?
THE GUY
Busy. Still a little sick. But not enough to call in a Playwright Temp.
THE STUDENT
That’s cool.
I gotta go.
THE GUY
Of course. Have a good rehearsal.
THE STUDENT
Thanks.
And the Student goes.
This is pretty much how it’s been lately between them. Mostly just conversation in passing.
But as The Student goes and The Guy turns to follow him off, The Guy has one of those moments – the kind of moment that passes when there’s something you wanna say but you’re sort of too embarrassed to say it out loud, something you’d never admit to even thinking later, not even admit to writing down and blogging on the internet (if someone were so inclined to do so).
But since The Student is off in his own busy world, and this is a play that can always be accused of being fiction, The Guy says what’s on his mind.
THE GUY
If I ever have a kid of my own, I hope he’s a lot like you.
The Guy smiles as the lights go down.
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4 comments:
words cannot express how this play makes me feel. well i'm sure they could...but i'm not sure how to do it.
everyone loves a sassypants.
If you love sassypants so much, Baniewicz, why dontcha marry 'em?
don't hide under the guise of this perhaps being fiction...what a sissypants way out of owning how you feel! That's right, I said sissypants! Funny how changing one letter can change the meaning entirely, eh?
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