3.18.2007: The Playwright Takes a Holiday

The Playwright Temp reappears, frazzled. He’s got a chaotic pile of pages in his hand. He looks like he’s been up all night.

An actor appears.

AN ACTOR
Where’s The Guy?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Not here.

AN ACTOR
Not here?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
No! NOT. HERE. I get this call at the very last minute, I mean I am walking out the door to go to dinner with this girl I’ve been trying to ask out for like three weeks, I mean she’s really beautiful, funny, all that, I ask her out, she says yes, surprise the hell out of me, so we’re gonna go to Olive Garden, ‘cause she likes it, not that I do, I don’t, I think Olive Garden is a sad excuse for an Italian restaurant, I mean, it’s Italian in the same way that taco bell is Mexican…

AN ACTOR
Irrelevant! Get to the point.

THE PLAYRIGHT TEMP
Oh. Right. So I get a call saying I’m needed here. Because HE isn’t coming.

AN ACTOR
He isn’t coming?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
That’s what I was told. He isn’t coming.

AN ACTOR
Weird.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
I know. So now I’m on a deadline, having to come up with a play for today, and I have had no time to prepare, do an outline, or anything! (And I’m not doing one of those “stage directions only” plays he does, I think that’s a total cop out, no offense intended, but he bitched at me for wanting to write a play about Anna Nicole Smith and he has the nerve to write a play that consists entirely of stage directions that AREN’T EVEN STAGABLE! Come on!) So I don’t know what to do. I have all the other plays here, as reference, but I don’t know where to start or what to wrote about, seriously, this is giving me hives, I respond to stress by breaking out in hives, I really should find another job…

The Guy appears. Shorts, a cap, looking well-rested.

THE GUY
Um… hello.

There’s a moment of awkwardness.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
And what the fuck are you doing?

THE GUY
Uh… um…

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
I was told you weren’t coming.

THE GUY
Oh, right.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
But here you are. Why aren’t you writing this?

THE GUY
Oh, I don’t write them. I just… stand in as the representative symbol for He Who Writes This.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Well, where the fuck is He Who Writes This? Because He Who Writes This is on my shit list.

AN ACTOR
He’s usually out there somewhere.

An actor points out into space, beyond the fourth wall. The Playwright Temp marches downstage and yells out there.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
You!

Hey! You!

I know you’re sitting there
somewhere
listening to me yell at you
so you better answer me!

Hey!

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
What?

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Why aren’t you writing this?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
I needed a holiday.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
A holiday!

Look, buddy,
you were the one who started this whole mess
this whole, “oooh, look at me,
I’m gonna write a play a day
look at me being all productive.”

Well, then stick to your commitments!

because I am only a temp,
I am not the writer of this play,
I am frazzled right now,
my breathing is now decidedly irregular,
I have not been on a date in months,
and Madeline was really looking forward to the Olive Garden,

So get your shit together!

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
Nothing happened today. I had nothing to write about.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Make a play out of this! Out of anything!

You’ve gotten this far
I mean, look at how much crap I’ve got here.

There’s always something, right?
Always.

Look.

He goes over to The Guy and the Actor.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP (cont.)
You have two people on a stage. Make them talk. There’s your play.

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
But it has to be about something. It can’t be about nothing.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Bullshit. Even nothing can be about something.
Look.

The Guy says, “I am experiencing an utter absence of purpose in my life.”

Say it!

THE GUY
Oh. ‘I’m experiencing an utter absence of purpose in my life.”

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Good. Now the other one says, “But don’t you see? Life has no definable purpose. That is its purpose.”

Motherfucker, if you don’t say it…

AN ACTOR
“But don’t you see? Life has no definable purpose. That is its purpose.”

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
And viola! A Play! About nothing and something simultaneously! A metaphysical conundrum that encapsulates the bitter irony that is Life! Right!

So there! You have your play for today!

Now can I go?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
Sure.

THE PLAYWRIGHT TEMP
Thank you!

And don’t call me again on weekends!
If this thing works out with Madeline,
I’m only gonna be doing this shit part-time.

Have a good one.

And the Playwright Temp storms off.

The Guy and the Actor are still a moment.

THE GUY
His play sucked.

AN ACTOR
I know.

The Guy moves downstage and speaks to The Voice of the Playwright.

THE GUY
Hey! You still out there?

THE VOICE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT
Yeah.

THE GUY
Listen.
I think you should worry less about this being about something
and let it just be about whatever it’s about.

Even if it’s just like this.
About there being nothing to write about.

Because at least that’s true.

Just a thought.

The Guy goes.

The Actor turns downstage. Moves down there slowly. And hesitantly speaks.

AN ACTOR
Can you give me more lines?

The lights go out.