You want to talk about pressure? Pressure is table forty-one, unhappy with their coconut ash pudding. They say it’s too “squidgy.” And they don’t want something else. They want it less “squidgy.” And while you are trying to understand how to make a fucking coconut ash pudding less “squidgy,” a thirty-seven dollar steak is dropped to the floor by the waitress who you think might be stoned. And then another ticket. A table of sixteen and they are all, all of them, having burgers. Six of them are medium rare, three are medium, four are medium well, and three are cooked well done—though why on god’s earth you would want to pay fifteen dollars for me to burn meat is beyond my ability to understand humanity. Two no pickles, one no onion, three no buns and replace the fries with salad, one of those salads has no dressing, six cheddar, one blue cheese, and don’t forget about the coconut ash pudding, and the steak on the ground, and the salted cod, and the pigeon and ticket after ticket after ticket.
[He slows down then, a pang of guilt.]
And then . . . then you just snap. You don’t even notice as you grab the eggplant and it flies across the kitchen.
And later . . . I want to apologize. To say I’m sorry. But no one ever said sorry to me, so I don’t know how.
You want me to pretend that you’re the kitchen porter?
I’m sorry. No really. I’m sorry.
The Orchid
JP Karliak
PAUL, late 20s to early 40s
PAUL is meeting up with his longtime friend Brian at the local watering hole. He is very excited to introduce his gorgeous girlfriend Courtney to Brian. As to why he’s excited . . . well, that’s something else.
PAUL Courtney? Oh, she’s great. Just great. How are you? [Laughs.] No, she’s great. I’m really excited for you to meet her. You’ll never believe how hot she is. I mean gorgeous. Like way out of my league. And spontaneous! You never know what she’s going to do next. One minute she’s quiet and unassuming and the next she’s ya know, right?
[Beat.]
She’s screaming at imaginary leprechauns for stealing her taco salad. No, really, she’s crazy, nuts, bonkers, lost her marbles, threw the brain in the blender and hit Puree, God help us. But, I digress—she’s hot, so what’s a little crazy, right? And she’s funny! Did I mention how funny she is?
She’s a riot. Like, last week I bought her an orchid . . . a potted one, so it’d last. She’s always said she liked them, so I figured why not? I’ll get her one. So I buy this dark, dark purple one with a really nice pot . . . plastic but the marble detailing is very nice. And I give it to her, and do you know what she does? She stares at it like it’s a Chia pet giraffe, sniffs it—not like people sniff flowers but like a dog sniffs dead animals—and says, “This is shit.” Isn’t that hilarious? She’s got this sort of dark, dry, almost cruel sense of humor. Like the British, exactly! Anyway, she’s puts the orchid on the TV and leaves it there for three weeks.
Three whole weeks. On her TV. Unwatered. Untouched. So, big surprise, it starts to wilt. And yeah, I admit, that hurt my feelings. How many guys do you know that actually pay attention when their girlfriend says what floral variety she likes, let alone actually buys her flowers? The most basic upkeep would have been nice, I mean, a plant needs water like a . . . like a man needs . . . I dunno, fuck metaphor.
Anyway, week three, when I ask her if she’s going to water the plant, she gets a little testy, as if it’s my job to not only gift the gift but to care for the gift as well. Which is so her sense of humor. Like it was my fault it wilted! Or, even funnier, like it was the dog’s fault! Oh, poor Buster, why? [Weeps.]
What? Buster? Oh, he’s fine, he’s . . . visiting relatives. Anyway, she gets passive-aggressive and just dumps a glass of water on the orchid.
Now, I dunno if you’ve ever experienced this, but sometimes when you dump water on really dry soil, the air escaping makes a little squealing sound . . . nothing loud or weird, but it’s kinda high-pitched like [makes noise] or [makes another noise]. Well, neither of those really, but you get the idea. So she hears this and goes apeshit. “Oh my God, listen to it! I water it once and I kill it! It’s screaming because I’ve killed it! You son of a bitch, look what you made me do! You made me kill it, you motherfucker!” And she’s screaming and crying and starts throwing a fit, and I’m just stunned, when all of a sudden she says, “I won’t let you stand there and watch it die, you bastard!” And she hurls it at me! She picks up that heavy marble-esque pot and heaves it right at my head! Luckily, I managed to jump behind the couch or it might have killed me! She might have ended me right there, that fucking sadistic . . . [Beat.]
. . . ally funny woman! Taking the jokes to the limit. I mean, it’s not like she really threw the plant AT my head, she was just kidding. Even when I was sprinting out the door, she was saying something about having orchid blood on my hands. Orchid blood. See, that dark, cruel humor? God, she’s funny. Hot and funny. How do you beat that combination?
I’m just shocked she’s with me. I mean, I’m not her type at all, we look so weird next to each other. You’d probably look better with her than I do.
Oh, here she comes. Look, I have to run to the . . . bathroom, but you guys order, don’t wait for me. And, uh, remember I told you that if you went after one of my girlfriends again, I’d kill you? Yeah, that was harsh of me, you just be you, okay? See ya!
Night Before
Lynn Trickey
MATT, 20s to 30s
MATT, dressed in pajamas, opens his hotel room door, and finds a woman standing in front of him.
MATT Wow. Wow . . . you’re here. Not going to say part of me didn’t think that maybe you might come . . . but really? The night before your wedding?
No wait, before you say anything. I saw the way you were looking at me at the rehearsal dinner, Cindy. I felt it. And I know you were thinking, “Damn, Matt looks good these days, is he working out?” And yeah, yeah I’ve been going to cross fit. But I’m not one of those people who has to always talk about it, which is probably why you didn’t know about it until now, because I’m into it, but not, like obsessively—
No wait, let me finish. What we had . . . I never felt like it was done. I’m still in love with you. I have been since college! And you started dating Dave so soon after we had that weekend together, I didn’t think it would last. And I honestly thought that once you realized that he was totally wrong for you—I mean he wears fedoras. How could you take him seriously? No, that was rhetorical. I figured once you had some time to find yourself, you’d come, well, not crawling back, but maybe slinking, or at least sheepishly walking . . .
No let me finish! The point is—it’s too late. I’m sorry. I mean, if you had come to me at the engagement party. . . . Okay, truth time? I only brought Tricia to make you jealous, I know you find her obnoxious, and actually I can’t stand her either, but I knew it would get your goat—I was waiting for you to come to me that night. And if you had showed up then, I would have said, “Yes, break it off, let’s get out of here and never look back . . .”
But now? Now? Shhh, LISTEN! You’re not thinking! You have a dress, we’re in the Hamptons, I paid a LOT of money for this hotel—by the way, do you know if breakfast is included or . . . no, never mind, not important, I can figure something out . . .
You have a honeymoon planned to Boca! What, are you and I gonna go instead of you and Dave?
[He pauses for a moment, and considers this.]
I mean is that even possible anymore? To transfer tickets to someone else’s name? The hotel wouldn’t be a problem, but the flight—
No, stop, I can’t. It’s too late. I’m sorry. Maybe, maybe, once you guys have been together for a while we can discuss, you know, if you are going to have an open marriage, or if you and I want to just hang as friends and see what happens physically . . .
[She finally interrupts him. He listens.]
Huh? My wallet?
[He reaches out and takes his wallet from her.]
Oh. Yeah, I guess I did leave it someplace . . . I was wondering why I couldn’t find my hotel key . . .
[Beat.]
So . . . that’s why you came here tonight?
Ah.
But . . . But you were staring at me at the rehearsal dinner?
[He reaches up and feels his face, wipes something off of it.]
Oh, fuck. Marinara gets everywhere—WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?
I’m not yelling!
No I’m not.
NO I’M NOT!
I’m not mad! In fact, all that stuff I said? About being in love with you? That was . . . that was . . . well I was just saying that to make you feel better. Because I knew you had these feelings for me . . .
Yes you do.
Yes you do!
No wait. Don’t go! Wait. Honestly . . . Don’t you ever think about it? About us?
Come on, not even a little bit?
Oh please, it’s so totally clear that you’re in love with me.
Yes you are.
YES YOU ARE!
You’re only kidding yourself!
NO, I’ll see YOU at the WEDDING TOMORROW.
NO, YOU DON’T MAKE A SCENE!
NO, YOU STOP YELLING!
NO, I’M GONNA GO!
I KNOW THIS IS MY HOTEL!
YEAH, GOODNIGHT TO YOU TOO!
[He opens his wallet, looks inside.]
Hey, I had twenty bucks in here!
A Toast
Leah Mann
LOGAN, late 20s to early 40s
LOGAN, a slightly rumpled playboy, is standing in a wedding reception tent. He is dressed in a tux, with a glass of champagne adorning one hand and a microphone in the other.
LOGAN Wow, look at all of you. I did NOT realize we had so many relatives. I know you didn’t all come to my wedding.
[Beat.]
Probably for the best, that was a bust. Kept the presents, though. Didn’t keep much dignity . . . but that juicer has stood the test of time.
[He chugs from his glass.]
Down to business. Ellie’s been my little sister ever since she was born.
[Beat. No laughs.]
Nothing? All right.
[Beat.]
It was always just the two of us, and even when she drove me crazy, and goddamn, did she—for three straight years I asked Santa to take her away instead of bringing me stuff—but I always loved her. She had that little-sister thing, where I hated her half the time but wanted to keep her safe and happy outside of whatever torture I was inflicting.
[Beat.]
She’d fight back, too, completely baffled why I was nice to her in public and a terror at home. Her big heart didn’t get it—she either liked you or not. No games.
[Beat.]
Ellie wasn’t as book smart or sharp as me, and frankly, she could be lazy, but she was smart enough to learn from my mistakes. Every time I got caught smoking weed, sneaking booze into the house, or “borrowing” the car, she’d watch silently and take notes.
[Beat.]
Ellie’s superpower is her ability to do just enough for her life to make it smooth and easy. It’s an impressive sixth sense about how to direct her energy. She never got in trouble for anything. Which was bullshit, but I can’t blame her for being clever. I might not be a role model, but at least I’m a lesson.
[Beat.]
Which brings us to marriage. Once again, Ellie seems to have learned from my mistakes.
[Beat.]
Tony here is a great guy. He pays his own rent and he doesn’t appear to be a herpes-riddled cheater, which is definitely a plus. Some things really are forever, am I right?
[Beat.]
I am right.
[Beat.]
These two, though, they’ll be forever in the incurable love and happiness way, not sexual disease way. Ellie gets what she wants and she knew Tony was the one from the first time they met.
[Beat.]
Look how their eyes are all sparkly at each other. It’s cloying but very sweet and this is a wedding, so hooray for love!
[Takes a big swig of champagne.]
Yup. Love. Fucking awesome.
[Beat.]
Awesome, at least for our newlyweds, and I mean that sincerely. The good news is Ellie’s life is not mine and god willing it never will be.
[Beat.]
My life is a work in progress, having recently deleted my marriage and started rewriting myself. I’m working on a solo show, at the moment. Ellie and Tony are beginning a new chapter in their . . . romance novel. . . . Not that I’m dwelling on the titillating sections.
[Beat.]
It’s about finding your own path. Sometimes those vows you say before family and friends and god are just a big fat check that your future self won’t want to cash. You won’t be married to the same people in ten years. Everything changes. It’s the only constant of the universe.
[Beat.]
If I could give you two any advice, it’d be to stagnate joyfully together.
[Beat.]
If you do decide to expand your horizons, do it together. Definitely do NOT spend a month in the desert doing peyote and meditating without each other, because that’ll throw off whatever kind of groove you’ve got going.
[Raises his glass.]
To Ellie and Tony. Whether you grow or stagnate, may it be together; may you cash your checks in ten years from well-padded accounts of love and happiness. I’ll keep making mistakes, if you keep learning from them. Starting with that bridesmaid—Tony’s cousin. Where’d she go?
Nicole
Mark Harvey Levine
BARRY, 20s to 40s
BARRY is in a giant retail store. He is energetic and friendly.
BARRY I love this store. I just love it. Well, I love going to aisle 14. Aisle 14 is where all the dolls are. I know, I know, a grown man going to the doll aisle.
You think I’m some kind of sissy—or worse, a perv. And I’ll admit, sometimes I’ll say I’m shopping for my daughter, so people won’t think I’m a sissy, or a perv. But I’m not shopping for my daughter. I don’t even have a daughter.
I’m there for the dolls. Well, one doll in particular. There’s a nurse doll—just one—that I like. No, no, let’s be honest. That I love.
And she loves me, too. I mean, it’s not like I’m stalking her or anything. I just go visit with her. I tell her about my day, my stupid office job. And she tells me funny stories about the doctors she works with, or an interesting patient she had that day.
I don’t get to see her often, because of my work schedule, and because of her schedule as a nurse, and the store’s schedule. Well, I know you’re open twenty-four hours, but sometimes late at night they restock, and there’s this huge stack of boxes in front of Nicole.
That’s her name, Nicole.
But today I manage to squeeze around the boxes and the wall and—she’s not there. She’s not there. I can feel my heart going a mile a minute. I try not to panic. Maybe I misunderstood her schedule, or she had to work a second shift to fill in for another nurse who got sick.
But my real fear was—what if someone bought her? What if some little kid had picked her up—or worse—some man. Some man who really did have a daughter. What if they had purchased my Nicole?
While I was having heart palpitations, I bent down to catch my breath and—there she was. Visiting some of the . . . more modern dolls. She was telling them that they were very pretty girls, and they shouldn’t feel like they have to dress so slutty to attract boys.
She’s like that. She’s always been a role model to the younger dolls. They look up to her, and not just because she’s on a higher shelf.
As I picked her up and began cuddl
ing with her, I started to worry. Nobody had purchased her this time, but what about next time? She was beautiful. Who wouldn’t want her?
I would have to hide her. I would have to hide her someplace nobody would find her. I could stick her in the stack of surplus grass seed over in Home and Gardening. But they might find her. They have people who do that, you know. Just wander through the store taking back the shampoo that’s in Electronics, or the box of cereal that’s sitting among the towels. I always wonder if those are things that other people have loved, and tried to hide away.
So I had to stick her somewhere where I could get to her, but no one else could. Men’s Shoes? Hardware? None of these seemed like a good place for Nicole.
But then it hit me. I could . . . buy her. I could just buy her myself. It was so obvious that I never thought of it before. But—would it cheapen her? Paying for her like she was some common hooker? Nicole blushed, but looked at me and said, “Free me, Barry. Free me from this polyurethane and cardboard cage. Take me home with you. Take me home.”
And for $15.97, plus tax, she is mine. And isn’t that what America is all about? You see something in the store, you fall in love with it, you buy it, and take it home.
So could you ring her up for me?
The Newlywed
Leah Mann
VIJAY, 20s to 30s
VIJAY, a handsome young East Indian man with a light British accent, loosens his tie as he approaches his new bride. The interior of the honeymoon suite where they are staying is swanky. VIJAY seems comfortable in the expensive surroundings.
VIJAY So . . . hi. This is even weirder than I thought it’d be. No offense! You’re not weird. I mean, maybe you are—if you are, that’s okay. Eeesh, awkward. I don’t know. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? We don’t know each other. I guess it’s time to start?
[Beat.]
Do you want to go first?
[Beat.]
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