Adventures In Commission

I'm approaching the first check-point: a draft is due in a few weeks.

I write best at night. And with music. These are things I've known, but not paid much mind to until now, when it matters. Some of the crucial discoveries I am happening upon originate from paying attention to myself. I try to notice my rhythms, let myself get swept up in currents of thought instead of sitting down with a rigid idea of how I will direct them. Why is it, that though we hope and expect that our accomplishments will be original and innovative, we seldom look for guidance in our own habits and inclinations? Maybe it's just me.

A structure is beginning to rise up:

(DAMIEN and SIMON enter. SIMON is carrying a guitar)

DAMIEN: You’re trying to tell me that I won’t regret it?

SIMON: That’s exactly what I’m saying.

DAMIEN: Naaaaaah.

SIMON: Do you really enjoy it that much?

DAMIEN: Do I enjoy it that much?

SIMON: Yeah.

DAMIEN: You don’t? Simon?

SIMON: Well . . .

DAMIEN: Of course you do.

SIMON: We hurt people for fun.

DAMIEN: They deserve it.

SIMON: According to you.

DAMIEN: You’re a wuss.

SIMON: We can’t just hurt people, Damien.

DAMIEN: What’s stopping us?

SIMON: Teachers, adults, eventually.

DAMIEN: You’re just giving in. Did you get caught? Expelled? Is that your story?

SIMON: We should stop because it’s wrong.

DAMIEN: Tell that to my dad when he lights a cigarette. People can make choices.

SIMON: And then people get burned.

DAMIEN: I get burned all the time. What about that? The heat’s got to go somewhere.

SIMON: So you give it away?

DAMIEN: I share it. There’s enough for everybody.

SIMON: There are guys who take karate or play football or something. You could do that.

DAMIEN: The rush isn’t the same.

SIMON: Too bad.

DAMIEN: I don’t even hurt people. No one’s gone to the nurse’s office.

SIMON: Sure, you don’t leave scars that they can see.

DAMIEN: That’s lame.

SIMON: Your feelings never get hurt?

DAMIEN: Never.

SIMON: Maybe that explains it.

DAMIEN: What?

SIMON: Maybe you have no feelings.

DAMIEN: Shut up.

SIMON: Everybody’s feelings get hurt.

DAMIEN: Why are you even talking about this? You said yourself that you enjoy it. That should be the bottom line. Screw everyone else’s feelings.

SIMON: Listen to this:

(SIMON takes out his guitar and begins to play a blues riff. After the verse, as he continues his monologue, he strums or picks here or there for effect)

SIMON: It’s called the “Cold-Hearted Blues”.

I woke up one morning and realized I was the worst person in the school.
I woke up one morning and realized I was the worst person in the school.
I knew if I kept on messin’ with people, eventually I’d lose my cool.

I wasn’t the dumbest, or the one who nobody talked to. I was the most horrible, because I made people feel like they were scum. Sure, I wasn’t the only one stomping on people’s guts, but I was the best at it. And I loved it. Like Thanksgiving . . .

© Nicholas D. Hubbard, 2006.

And it goes on--see two entries back for the rest.

I changed SIMONE to SIMON due to cast size. I have 12 characters, and three male and two female actors to play them.