Now son, I’m going to leave you alone because you seem to still have your penis in your hand, and that kind of tenacity should be rewarded.
You know I’ll always be proud of you, just not with this.
Now, if you’ll excuse me—your good ole dad needs to get on the Internet.
College Dad
Carla Cackowski
DOTING DAD, 50s
A DOTING DAD is caught by his daughter walking out of her college dormitory with a laundry basket in his hands.
DOTING DAD Oh, hey sweetheart! Ma asked me to swing by and pick up your laundry. No, I know you have machines on campus. I just thought, well your mother thought, that maybe you’d forget to separate colors from whites and that you’d try to put your blouses in the dryer and then they’d shrink and then, before you know it, me and your ma have to take our college freshman shopping for new clothes all over again.
[Sets basket down.]
No, you’re right honey. I’m sorry. One of us should’ve called you first to tell you I was coming. We just didn’t want to distract you from your studies, or from making new friends, or any other activities you’ve been up to lately. So, what activities have you been up to lately? Not much? That doesn’t sound very “first semester” exciting to me! But seriously, what’ve you been up to?
Hmm? Oh. Your RA let me in. Well, she knew I was your father. Don’t you remember introducing us when we dropped you off? No need to get upset with her, sweetheart. She let me in because I told her I had to drop off your meds. [Whispers.] Don’t worry, she’s not going to tell anyone. Of course you don’t take meds, I know you don’t take meds, you’re my daughter for goodness sakes, I know you’re not on medication, but I just needed her to let me in so your mother and I could surprise you by stealing your clothes—borrowing your clothes—to clean them, and we didn’t think she would let us in for that reason alone. So, in order to justify my entering your dorm room when you weren’t here, I told her I was dropping off your medication. Clonazepam. It’s not embarrassing. I’m on that medication, as is your mother. So? So that means there’s a good chance you’ll be on antianxiety meds once you have kids too. No. It is not embarrassing.
You’re right. I’m sorry. My apologies. Our apologies. Your mother and I apologize. We are just worried about you. You haven’t called and, before you know it, the semester will be over and we just—I mean, we are paying for your education for goodness sakes, and to not hear from you since we dropped you off! It’s only been two days? Can that be right? No, you’re right. You are right. Huh. Well . . . two days is a very long time. Legally, we could’ve filed a missing person’s report after one day, we gave you a whole extra day, and you still didn’t call to check in!
Sweetheart, I understand. You’ve been busy. Of course. We understand. Your mother and I understand. Just call us each night until we’ve gotten used to you being on your own, okay? Thank you. And you can always call us in the morning too—Just a thought! Once a day. Fine.
No, you don’t need to call your mother right now. I’ll tell her you said hi. No, sweetheart, don’t call your mother right now. Please don’t call your mother. No—Okay, fine! Truth time. Your mother doesn’t know I’m here. Technically. But! She would’ve wanted me to check in with you. Fine! But please don’t tell her that I broke into your dorm room. I mean, please don’t tell her your RA let me into your window—uh, door! Your door. [Sighs.] I should go home now. It’s a two-hour drive, you know? Talk to you tomorrow. Night-night, sweetheart. Lock the door behind me.
[DAD turns to leave—]
And the window. You know not to let anyone in after 11:00 p.m., right? Even your roommate. She shouldn’t be coming in that late, she could be on drugs, she could be dangerous—okay! Leaving now! Love you.
Goodbye, Grandpa Joe
Jessica Glassberg
SID, 40s
SID, nervous, wearing a consignment store black suit, addresses his family at the reading of his grandfather’s will.
SID Hello. Hi, everyone. Okay . . . I wish we were all meeting under better circumstances, but here we are . . . I will now be reading the Last Will and Testament of Joseph Marvin Flick. Let us take a moment to remember that Grandpa Joe loved you all.
[A Beat. Then, reading.]
“I, Joseph Marvin Flick never loved anyone.”
[There is a beat as SID awkwardly smiles at his family. He continues reading.]
“Sure, I got to give it to some ladies in my day. And I ended up in the family way with the woman you called Me-maw and I called Fat Ruth. Surprise Sid, you were a mistake. We had three more beasts and all our beasts had their own beasts and now I’m dead and you hairy beasts want all my stuff.”
[SID notices people getting upset.]
Michelle. Come on, no, he’s not talking about your chin hairs. You know he was starting to lose it towards the end.
[Reading.]
“I don’t want anyone saying I was losing my mind, or wasn’t thinking straight. I’m straight as an arrow as I dictate this. Straighter than that tutti fruitcake of a grandson. The one singing them show tunes. Bill, or Jim, or whatever his name is . . . or was . . . maybe someone mistook his singing for the sound of an animal dying and he was finally put out of his misery.”
[SID addresses his nephew.]
He didn’t mean it, Johnny. No one thinks you’re . . . ya know. And if you were, we’d love ya just the same. Well, not that same way Grandpa Joe was talking about; we’d be more accepting of your lifestyle choices . . . You have the voice of an angel.
[Then . . .]
Let’s get back on track. Where was I?
[Reading.]
“ . . . he was finally put out of his misery. Hope you’re not sweating too much up there, Sid. I asked that Sid read this because I know how much he hates public speaking and I figured it’d be good for him to finally grow some balls.”
[SID, to family.]
Okay . . . I have balls. Obviously, I have balls. I have two beautiful children. Sorry that you had to hear your father say “balls” twice . . . three times. And they are mine. My kids . . . not my balls. Well, technically they’re all mine. I made my kids using my ba . . . testicles. Look at Kacie’s ears.
[To his daughter.]
Sorry sweetheart, you got my Dumbos. But they look much better on you. Ya know what? It’s okay, Grandpa Joe is still the guy you all remember. The guy who could drink beer from sunup till sundown and still beat you at checkers. The guy who would be too drunk to play catch, or read us stories, or call us on our birthdays. The guy who’d beat us with his belt because he beat us at checkers. Who’d tell us we were “worse than manure. At least manure was good for something.” The guy who didn’t make it to my wedding because he said I wasn’t worth marrying. I AM worth marrying. My wife loves me! She loves my big ears and my balls. Ya know what? I don’t care what he left me. Margie, get the coats and I’ll meet you and the kids at the car. Joseph Marvin Flick? More like Joseph Marvin Dick!
[SID exits the stage. Beat. He marches back in.]
Did he leave me the car?
Knock Knock
Mark Alderson
DERRICK, early 20s to mid-30s
DERRICK, a young and anxious man, is standing outside of an apartment door talking to himself while holding a small bouquet of flowers.
DERRICK Why is this so difficult? All I have to do is knock. I mean, she said yes to the date, so why would I have to be nervous about picking her up? Do I smell okay? Should I have worn a jacket? You know, like one of those cool ones that says “I am confident but open to feedback.” No, I don’t need a jacket and I smell great. Here it goes.
Hmm, should I knock or use the doorbell? Knocking is a bit more gentlemen-like, but if I use the doorbell then I will be sure that she hears me. However, if I knock then I can do like, a cool rhythm and she will think that I will have awesome music ab
ilities. But what happens when she asks about my musical talents and I say that I don’t have any? Oh man, then she will think that I have been lying to her this whole time and it will all go to crap. No no no, it’s all good. I am going to knock with a pleasant rhythm and she will think that I am a pleasant man.
[Knock knock.]
[The apartment door opens and an old woman smoking a cigar answers, catching DERRICK off guard.]
Umm. Hello? I am looking for Catherine Esplinade. Does she live here? Wrong door, you say? Well, that’s unfortunate because that makes me now thirty seconds late.
[The old woman blows a puff of smoke in DERRICK’s face and slams the door.]
Hmm. Apartment 213. This must be it.
[DERRICK knocks on the next door. A familiar face answers.]
Jessica? Do you live here? It’s me, Derrick. Um, you stood me up two weeks ago at Maloney’s. Boy, that was a bummer. You never even called or texted me to say you weren’t coming. I was really excited to go out with you. I guess it works out because after a few frozen margaritas, the bartender that night set me up with his cousin. So in your face! Actually, I’m sorry, that was mean, but I am on my way to pick her up right now. Do you know where apartment 213 is?
[The door slams shut on the flowers and ruins them. DERRICK walks over to the next door with a limp bouquet of roses and knocks. A beautiful woman answers.]
Oh my gosh it’s finally you, Catherine. I’ve met so many different women tonight trying to get into your apartment. I mean, not like that—but sort of. I can tell you all about it over drinks. You don’t drink on a first date? But you will on a second? Well that’s uh, well that’s weird. No, I don’t mean you’re weird but your rules need to be a bit looser. No I wasn’t saying you need to be looser but you could give me a break. Look I even got you these flowers!
[Catherine’s door slams in his face. DERRICK walks swiftly and knocks on the second door. Jessica answers again.]
Hey, I don’t know if you believe in fate or anything, but you’ve got to admit that this is a bit serendipitous. You see, you’re beautiful and I’m wondering if you’d like to give this thing a second chance? I am sure you had a great reason for not coming that night, I now know all about what can happen before I date. No pressure at all but I think if the universe gives you a second chance—well you’ve got to say yes. So are you free tonight?
What’s that? Sure! I would be delighted to come back in twenty minutes to pick you up. Let me just write down your apartment number real quick so I don’t get lost. Awesome. See you in twenty minutes. I hope you like frozen margaritas because I know just the place.
Climb On
Leah Mann
CALEB, 20s
Exterior snow covered rocky mountain. CALEB, 20s, lies with his leg trapped under a rock and snow swirling around him. He’s wearing climbing gear, his face red from the cold.
CALEB Whoa! You okay, man? Phew. That was some mother of a tumble! I’m over here! Under the snow behind this huge rock. Dude, I’d totally come to you but this boulder on my leg is not moving.
[Grimaces.]
Talk about gnarly, look at my leg! The part that isn’t under the rock—crushed like a beer can. Is that bone? It’s so thick.
[Beat.]
Bro, it’s all good. Just push the boulder off and I’ll totally be fine. It’s just a leg. And you know what we say—no pain, no gain. ONE . . . TWO . . . THREE . . . THREE!! . . . Three, bro, three.
[Beat.]
Seriously? You can’t push any harder than that? It didn’t move at all. Weak.
[Sighs.]
No, not you. The situation.
[Beat.]
It’s gonna get dark soon. Can you call for help on the radio? No battery? We shouldn’t have worn it down telling dick jokes to that sherpa. Bad planning on our part, ha-ha. Looks like we’re stuck here until help comes.
[Beat.]
I’M stuck here? Technically, yes, I’m the one who’s stuck, if we’re going to be literal. Are we being that literal?
[Beat.]
I guess you’re right. I’m not trying to hold you back. That’s not how we roll. We’ve been friends, what? Since we were eight and building skate ramps in your back yard?
[Beat.]
And sure, we swore a blood oath to always be there for each other and blood is thicker than water, but it ain’t thicker than ice and I understand that this majestic frozen mountain we’re on is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you.
[Beat.]
You’re so close . . . I totally get it. I’ll be here when you descend and you can bring help. Maybe steal one of those flags off the top to use as a lever on this boulder. That’s science. Resourcefulness man.
[Beat.]
Of course I believe in taking responsibility for my actions.
[Beat.]
You’re right. It’s my own fault. I should have been more careful. Safety first. You shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of my mistakes. That’d be messed up. Like that time we cheated on the chem final and you threw me under the bus, that was messed up! And you felt like a jackass, bro, remember? Well, I don’t want to feel like a jackass for holding you back. We’re bigger than that now. This is totally my bad.
[Beat.]
This pain and the cold, that’s life man. The danger is half the beauty of what we do. I got no regrets. Well, I regret not packing new rope. That was stupid. But lesson learned. Every step we take determines our next set of choices. Sometimes you can backtrack and try a new path, but some steps shut the door behind you. That toe hold, the patch of black ice, the old rope . . . that sent me down this path and I can’t time travel, which is such a bummer because that would be dope.
[Beat.]
That’s all the past and I’m about the now. This is my now. I’m embracing it, dude. My decisions, my consequences. The present is a gift, am I right? Now it’s your turn to decide.
[Beat.]
Our universe has converged in this exact moment in space and time—in my life and in your life—and you have two options.
[Beat.]
ONE—You go. You climb this mountain like the athlete you are. You stand on the summit and feel the weight of your accomplishment under your feet, lifting you up into the sky. You breathe that frigid air on the top of the world and you look down at earth through the clouds with the gods for both of us.
[Beat.]
Or TWO, you stay with me until a rescue crew gets here. You make sure I don’t go into shock and that there aren’t any complications, that I don’t get hypothermia—and NEITHER of us makes it to the summit. The whole trip is wasted and we return defeated and disappointed—but alive and hopefully not crippled! Which for me, would be nice because I’m pretty attached to using both my legs.
[Beat.]
Either way we will be bonded by this gnarly experience forever. So . . . will you stay or will you go?
[Beat.]
You’ll go? Really?
[Beat.]
I’m guess I don’t need BOTH legs. People make do, right? Give me your knife. I thought of a third option. I’m not gonna stand in the way of your dreams, I’m gonna stand next to you. We do this the way we started, together!
[He starts sawing through the top of his thigh.]
Don’t want to cut it too close, know what I’m saying? Family jewels and all that. And . . . there go my new pants.
[Beat.]
My adrenaline is going crazy right now! This is what it’s all about—looking challenges straight in the eye and punching them in the face!
[Beat.]
Oh shit, wrong leg.
[He starts sawing on the other one with determination.]
Got any more dick jokes? I have very muscular thighs, this could take a few.
And Your Name Is?
Chris Quintos
The shy, quiet JACK, a barrista, confesses details to his older sister about his crush on a customer named Carrie and the man he wishes he was.
JACK Carrie. Her name is Carrie. C-a-r-r-i-e. She comes in every day and she is . . . she’s just really cute. I think I’m in love with her. Which is crazy, because I’ve never said more than five words to her. Mostly, “What can I get for you today?” And then calling her name when her drink is done. She works at the Forever 21 on Market Street.
I don’t know how people do it. I have this coworker, Tim, he just flirts with everyone. I dunno, he’s like twenty-one or twenty-two or something, so he’s a little older than me. But like—he’s got mad game. You know? Like, I feel like Beyoncé could walk in here tomorrow, and Tim would get her laughing in thirty seconds. It’s like watching a magician. Like, where does he come up with this stuff, you know? It’s hard enough for me to ask what people want to drink. And I’m supposed to do that. And then calling out names—that part is hard, too. I guess because I’m kind of quiet. Except for Carrie—if I’m working the register, I don’t even ask. “Tall Iced Chai with Soy for Carrie.” I don’t know. Like sometimes, I’ll be floating around in my mind while I’m making drinks, then when I have to call out a name, I do it quietly. And then I know it’s like—I HAVE to do it again. But I’m like—ugh—why didn’t I say it loudly to begin with? If I just said it with a little confidence, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself.
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