I made that up.
But it’s true.
Today my dad’s maybe going to teach me how to ride a bike without training wheels.
If he ever calls.
The phone rings.
KEVIN is excited.
WILL
Oh shut the fuck up.
Light shift.
Music: “Happy Ending.”
Well I’ve been described a lot of ways in the past but never as “a teeny tiny guy.” I don’t think so. I’m bigger than all of you. Listen to… (re: music)
Okay I think we’ve made our point with that.
I said I think I’ve made my point.
WILL gestures sharply. Record scratching. Music ends.
Listen to the teeny tiny guy. Tell your story, Warren. Go and get your stuff.
WARREN
I’m walking. I’m walking. I’m walking. Around the corner. Past the market. A man in a green suit, a golden retriever at his side, a net bag hangs from his arm, inside the bag is a bottle of wine. I’m walking. I’m walking. The pastry shop. The liquor store. A woman in a tailored coat and polished shoes passes carrying a case of imported lager, a younger woman walks beside her whining—the woman snaps “shut up.” I’m standing in front of the smoke shop. I’ve quit but I go inside. Time passes and I’m opening a pack of cigarettes as I cross the street. An angry taxi driver. An old dog. I get a light from a crazy man who smells like something sweet. In a window over the bookstore across the street three blond men with bare chests toast one another with glasses of something clear. Passing the Italian bistro. My car keys are in my hand. On the patio a couple talk seriously. He is in a blue cap; he drinks beer, tall, cold just poured. She is in a high-necked sweater and brown pants; she’s not drinking; she picks at the skin on the back of her hands. He leans across the table to make a point and knocks over his glass. The beer runs across the table and pools at the edge dripping onto her brown pants. Drip drip drip drip drip. But she doesn’t react. And as I pass she looks up at me. And her eyes are full. Her eyes are full of everything. Then a blank spot. And I’m in a bar. And a blank spot. And a third shot. And a blank spot. And I’m in my car. I’m driving but I don’t want to be. Yes yes I do want to be! I do want to be! I want to get my stuff. I want my windbreaker and my sneakers and that book and my tax stuff and my John Denver CD. Why didn’t he know I liked John Denver? He didn’t even care enough to know. John Denver left his wife. His first wife Annie. He wrote that song for her. He was sorry he left. His second wife got his name.
VOICE OF WILL
That’s right, Warren. The second wife turned out to be quite a cunt.
WARREN
Don’t say that! That’s not nice, that’s not nice. But that’s not him. He’s not like that. That’s not you. I just make you sound that way because I’m afraid. I’m afraid I won’t see you again. I just want to hear you laugh. I just want to see you smile. He used to do this happy dance. I want to see the happy dance.
VOICE OF WILL
That bastard wasn’t smiling he was laughing at you.
WARREN
I’m driving fast. I take the hill hard. I think I lose a hubcap but I don’t even look back to see if it’s on the road. I’m headed down the hill toward the school. The soccer field. It must be Saturday because the soccer field is empty. I used to play soccer there. I hated playing soccer. The house is just two lefts and a right from here. That big house. That pool I paid for. Empty schoolyard. Chain-link fence. Keep my eyes on the road.
VOICE OF WILL
Is he happy now? Is he happy now?
WARREN
Bike wheel spinning. Bike wheel spinning. Little boy’s face. Little boy’s face. He’s learning how to ride. His dad runs beside him. Gives him a push. Bike wheel spinning. Little boy’s face. You never took care of me. Why didn’t you take care of me? Did you expect me to ask? I couldn’t ask. I just wanted you to know. Keep my eyes on the road.
VOICE OF WILL
Why didn’t he take care of you?
WARREN
Bike wheel spinning. Bike wheel spinning. Little boy’s face. Little boy’s face. I just want to hear you laugh. I just want to see you smile. I just want a happy ending. Why can’t I have a happy ending?
VOICE OF WILL
Because you’re not fucking good enough!
Light and sound shift.
WARREN
Through the air the bike careening little boy his arms and legs flapping wildly trapped in flight, rebounds off the windshield, windshield shatters fast like frost, spin the wheel the car is turning deep into the soccer field, time is moving in slow motion, little boy flies high and far like sleeping dancing, meets the craggy tar. Bouncing like an empty jug. Bike wheel spinning bike wheel spinning bike wheel spinning bike wheel spinning.
Light shift.
WILL
Now there’s an ending. Very dramatic. The kid dies. And Warren kills him.
And Mike he has to be held responsible too. He’s the dad, had a few drinks, gives the kid a push.
And good old Uncle Aaron. If Uncle Aaron hadn’t been so hot for Susan the kid wouldn’t have ended up with Mike.
And Susan, if Susan had been a little less demanding, a little gentler, then Warren wouldn’t have ended up behind the wheel.
So many lives destroyed.
And for what?
For a story.
For you.
What? You were expecting a happy ending. Well it’s just one kid. It could have been worse. It could have been quadruplets. That would have been four times worse! Or he could have T-boned a bus full of children. Or driven into a hospital of sick kids and blown it up. Or been manning a satellite that hits an island of infants—or imploded a planet of teenagers. You want a happy ending? What did you ever do to deserve a happy ending? You want a happy ending go home and watch TV. Or go shopping. Welcome to Walmart, maggots. I am will and I get what I want and I don’t care how. You got a problem with that?
Through the preceding giant stomping has been growing closer. Now the stomping is upon us. WILL looks up.
Holy shit!
Blackout and the sound of bones snapping and flesh compressing.
Light up.
KEVIN
“Holy shit!” are Will’s last words before the twin boy steps on him and squishes him.
Because Will is not only teeny tiny to a giant he is a teeny tiny guy even to a kid. And the rule is that if a kid sees Will and steps on him then time goes backward and everything goes into revere and everything turns into a happy ending.
KEVIN becomes ME.
I just made that up.
Light shift. As ME speaks to us he dresses in his street clothes.
ME
Nobody dies. No. Warren doesn’t go to the barbecue. Instead he answers his phone and ends up going out to lunch with his lawyer Susan. He does go on a nasty bender though. And Aaron the astrologer thinks about the tarot reading he did and realizes that it was less about Susan and more about his ex-girlfriend and Aaron realized he has a lot of work to do on his feelings about his ex-girlfriend. And Susan starts spending more time with her daughters. The older one does end up going to prison but just for a year and a half. While she’s in prison she learns how to sew. When she gets out she opens a dress shop and she becomes more famous than Vera Wang. And Susan and her younger daughter go on a vacation to Costa Rica and they have a pretty good time. There are even some pictures of the daughter smiling and wearing shorts which Susan thinks is a very good sign. Oh right, some people do die. Gervase and Sonja the models die. They end up dying in a fire at their old place. But at least they’re together. But the turtle survives the fire though, and she ends up living to be twenty-six. And the world doesn’t end in five years or eight years. But everything does change. And Mike’s ex-wife actually did save her fortune c
ookie. And Mike starts going to his meetings regularly and stops drinking all together and his ex-wife lets him move back in and this makes Kevin very happy. And one night Mike and his wife are alone and they light some candles and they open up their fortune cookies together and they both have the same fortune: “You will fall in love.” And pink becomes the new black for real. And the Little Mermaid gets an eternal soul and lives in heaven with God forever. And Arthur Schopenhauer ends up becoming famous at the age of seventy and learns how play the fiddle. And one night Warren goes to a twelve-step meeting and he’s in really rough shape and after the meeting this guy comes up and talks to him and Warren and the guy end up going for coffee. And Warren and the guy talk for hours and the guy ends up becoming Warren’s sponsor. And the guy turns out to be Mike. And Mike and Warren become really good friends.
ME is now standing dressed to leave, holding his Starbucks coffee.
Oh, and one more thing. One day Warren has a package arrive at his apartment delivered by a courier company. And it’s a box, and in the box are his windbreaker and his sneakers and a John Denver CD…
John Denver’s “Annie’s Song” begins to play quietly. ME listens for a moment.
Cue the snow.
Presently it begins to snow.
It’s not the same John Denver CD but it has all the same songs. And in the box is his tax stuff that he doesn’t end up really needing anyway. And three books, the book he wanted, his favourite novel that he’d forgotten about and a book called Lick the Sugar Habit that he keeps meaning to read. And in the box is a cap that Warren doesn’t recognize but it fits him like a glove and it does look rather jaunty. And at the bottom of the box is a note. And the note says: “I’m sorry how it ended.”
It continues to snow as the light fades.
End.
Acknowledgements
The playwright wishes to thank Necessary Angel Theatre Company, Matt White, Guy de Carteret, Rob Harding, Marcie Januska, LouAnn Chiasson, Karl Blindheim, Gerard MacIssac, and the members of the wedding.
Daniel MacIvor is one of Canada’s most accomplished playwrights and performers. Winner of the prestigious Elinore and Lou Siminovitch Prize, the GLAAD Award, the Governor General’s Literary Award, and many others, Daniel’s plays have been met with acclaim throughout North America.
This Is What Happens Next Page 5