Shorter, Faster, Funnier Page 7

  TOM: The work?

  PHIL: “The work,” people aren’t gonna put up with that. Humanity, noble, decency, art—Tom. People are not gonna put up with it.

  TOM: Why are you saying these things? I was going to leave. I am leaving—

  (He stands.)

  PHIL: You leave when I tell you to leave!

  (TOM looks at him, confused.)

  I mean, there’s something you’re not getting here, Tom. I am your friend. I see an actor with talent, I ask him to come in, he’s clearly confused about how the world works but I like him so I decide to teach him a few useful lessons. I am your friend. And if you ever want to work as an actor, get paid, actually have a real acting job instead of some stupid theater thing, then you will LEAVE when I SAY LEAVE.

  (They stare at each other.)

  TOM: You know, Nietzsche was not right.

  PHIL: Oh, Jesus—

  TOM: Yes, Nietzsche, the philosopher, said—

  PHIL: I’m trying to tell you something, Tom—

  TOM: And I’m trying to tell you, the guy was like obsessed—

  PHIL: Yeah, that’s fascinating, I’m so—

  TOM: So we did this acting exercise in grad school, which was based on a Nietzschean model of humanity and basically the exercise was all about who’s going to win the scene, because Nietzsche has this theory about the will to power but—

  PHIL: DON’T YOU FUCKING TALK TO ME ABOUT NIETZSCHE!

  TOM: (Cowed but continuing.) It’s just that it’s a very limited model of humanity. As an actor you have to draw on many aspects of … you know what? I can see that this is really important to you, so you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to let you win the scene. (He sits back down.)

  PHIL: You’re what?

  TOM: Whatever you want, Phil. I’ll do whatever you want. You want me to stay, leave, whatever. That’s what I’ll do.

  PHIL: I want you to listen.

  TOM: I’m listening.

  PHIL: I want you to get with the picture.

  TOM: That’s what I’m doing.

  PHIL: I mean, which one of us knows this town, you or me?

  TOM: You.

  PHIL: That’s right.

  TOM: That’s right. And I really appreciate everything you’ve said to me. You really put me on the right path and I appreciate it.

  PHIL: You should.

  TOM: I do.

  (TOM looks at him. PHIL studies him, uncomfortable.)

  PHIL: What are you doing?

  TOM: I’m letting you win the scene.

  PHIL: You’re letting me? What do you mean, you’re—

  TOM: I don’t mean anything.

  PHIL: You said “let.”

  TOM: That’s not what I meant at all. What I meant was it just took me a while to understand what you were trying to tell me, and I’m just, I’m saying you’re right. You are right. You’re amazing. It’s a thrill meeting you and thank you for your time.

  PHIL: (Suspicious.) You’re acting, aren’t you?

  TOM: Do you want me to be acting?

  PHIL: Yeah, that’s funny. I mean, you’re a real comedian.

  TOM: If that’s what you want me to be.

  (He strikes a little shticky pose for him. PHIL laughs a little. TOM joins him. They have a good chuckle together. PHIL looks at him, liking him again.)

  PHIL: So … was this whole thing an act? One big mind-fuck? Nietzsche and art and humanity—you been putting the whole thing on, right? You’re fucking with my head so I’ll sign you. Am I right? I mean, ’cause that’s kind of brilliant.

  TOM: Well …

  PHIL: I mean, I could work with that. ’Cause then we understand each other. You know, then we’re on a wavelength.

  TOM: (Some growing concern.) Oh … oh. Oh, oh, oh.

  PHIL: (Snapping again.) Oh what? Are we understanding each other or not? I mean, am I winning this scene or not?

  TOM: Yeah. Yeah, of course.

  (PHIL studies TOM, then points his finger at him and starts laughing. TOM laughs too, a bit uncomfortably.)

  PHIL: I like you. I like you. (He thinks for a minute, then suddenly yells.) Hey, SUZIE! Get me a set of standard contracts, will you?

  (Tom looks around, concerned.)

  TOM: Oh. You want to—

  PHIL: I’m gonna sign you, Tom! Welcome to Hollywood.

  (He shakes his hand, laughing. TOM laughs too. The laughter goes on for quite a while. TOM ends up looking a little sick.)

  (Blackout.)

  END OF PLAY

  CURTAIN RAISER

  Eric Lane

  Curtain Raiser premiered under its original title, Restoration, at Live Theater Company (Melanie S. Armer, artistic director; Chance Muehleck, literary director) at Center Stage in New York City in November 2001. The play was directed by Jimmy Georgiades, with the following cast:

  LORRAINE Megan Hollingshead

  OSCAR Jim Ireland

  It was named finalist for the Heideman Award in the Actors Theater of Louisville National Ten-Minute Play Contest.

  CAST

  OSCAR: Twenties to thirties. An overly intelligent, neurotic man who still manages to be likable. When it comes down to it, he’d give you the shirt off his back. Not fat, just obsessive.

  LORRAINE: Twenties to thirties. Pretty, sweet, eternally optimistic. Often taking on more than most people could imagine, yet somehow manages to handle it all.

  SETTING

  An abandoned Woolworth’s building. The place is pretty beaten up. It’s a mess, but there’s an innate charm if one can see beyond.

  The set should be pretty minimal. The two scene changes occur quickly. The transformation in the space should be conveyed mainly through lighting and the actors’ reactions to their surroundings.

  SCENE ONE

  An abandoned Woolworth’s building. Late afternoon. LORRAINE enters and drinks in the space, becoming quietly excited. OSCAR enters, takes in the space, somewhat horrified.

  LORRAINE: It’s beautiful.

  OSCAR: Let’s go.

  LORRAINE: Can’t you see it.

  OSCAR: No.

  LORRAINE: This is it.

  OSCAR: This is what? It’s a mess.

  LORRAINE: Just look around.

  OSCAR: I am. All I see’s an abandoned Woolworth’s building.

  LORRAINE: The space.

  OSCAR: Too much space.

  LORRAINE: The light.

  OSCAR: What light? We’re turning it into a theater.

  LORRAINE: The history.

  OSCAR: The smell. Let’s go.

  LORRAINE: This is it.

  OSCAR: Lorraine.

  LORRAINE: I’m telling you, Oscar.

  OSCAR: No.

  LORRAINE: Yes.

  OSCAR: No.

  LORRAINE: Yes.

  OSCAR: No …

  LORRAINE: Yes.

  OSCAR: You think?

  LORRAINE: Trust me.

  (He looks around. A beat.)

  OSCAR: Oy.

  SCENE TWO

  Three months later. They are in the midst of cleaning. Have been cleaning. Need to clean more.

  OSCAR: (Offstage.) There’s a ghost in the bathroom.

  LORRAINE: What are you talking about?

  (OSCAR enters, wearing yellow gloves, carrying a bucket and mop.)

  OSCAR: Well, something is making that smell and it is not human.

  LORRAINE: You’ll take care of it.

  OSCAR: How do you know I’ll take care of it?

  LORRAINE: Because you always do. Whatever it is, you’ll take care of.

  OSCAR: What if it lingers?

  LORRAINE: It’s not going to linger.

  OSCAR: But if it does.

  LORRAINE: It won’t.

  OSCAR: Do you have to be so optimistic? Whatever I say, you disagree.

  LORRAINE: I do not.

  OSCAR: And you have to get the last word.

  LORRAINE: No.

  OSCAR: Yes.

  LORRAINE: No.

  OSCAR
: Yes.

  LORRAINE: No.

  OSCAR: No …?

  LORRAINE: No. Is something going on?

  OSCAR: No.

  LORRAINE: Yes.

  OSCAR: Just everything. This place. My life. Everything. Why are we even doing this?

  LORRAINE: What?

  OSCAR: (Gestures to entire place.) This.

  LORRAINE: You know why.

  OSCAR: I don’t.

  LORRAINE: Why do you even say—?

  OSCAR: I don’t. (Lorraine just looks at him.) What?

  LORRAINE: This is the story of a shy, quiet five-year-old boy—

  OSCAR: Oh, jeez.

  LORRAINE: … who played Chicken Little in his kindergarten production. And suddenly he was transformed from—

  OSCAR: OK, OK. You win. (She stops.) Thank you.

  LORRAINE: I’m sure you made a very fine chicken.

  OSCAR: I was brilliant.

  LORRAINE: Show me.

  OSCAR: What?

  LORRAINE: Show me your chicken, Oscar. (He rolls his eyes.) You know you want to.

  OSCAR: No.

  LORRAINE: You know you do. Come on, Oscar.

  (Tentative but wanting to, he starts to show his chicken. She laughs. He quickly stops.)

  (Laughing.) Oscar.

  OSCAR: I’m glad I amuse you.

  LORRAINE: You do. It’s one of your most endearing characteristics.

  OSCAR: Great.

  LORRAINE: What about me?

  OSCAR: What?

  LORRAINE: What are mine?

  OSCAR: Lorraine …

  LORRAINE: Name five things you love about me.

  OSCAR: Five?

  LORRAINE: If it’s too many …

  OSCAR: I didn’t say—

  LORRAINE: OK. Five.

  OSCAR: Five. (He thinks.)

  You’re smart.

  You’re sexy.

  You’re beautiful.

  You’re really patient.

  And you make me laugh.

  LORRAINE: And you know what you are?

  OSCAR: What?

  LORRAINE: Correct!

  OSCAR: Thanks a lot.

  LORRAINE: Oscar.

  OSCAR: How could anyone name their child that?

  LORRAINE: What? I love your name.

  OSCAR: (With disdain.) Oscar.

  LORRAINE: It’s got a sexy “O” at the front.

  OSCAR: You think I’m fat?

  LORRAINE: I think you’re sexy.

  OSCAR: I can’t believe you think I’m fat.

  LORRAINE: (If the actor is thin, include:) You’re the skinniest man I know. (Thin or not, say:) All I said was it has an “O.”

  OSCAR: (Overlapping the end of her sentence.) Round. That’s what you said. All the way round. No beginning. No end. Just one big endless fat zero.

  LORRAINE: It’s just a vowel.

  OSCAR: But it fits. That’s what you said.

  LORRAINE: This snaky ssss in the middle. Then this rrr at the end. Like a seductive growl. Rrrrrrr.

  OSCAR: I’m fat and I snore. That’s what you think.

  LORRAINE: Are you done?

  OSCAR: Now “Lorraine,” that’s another matter.

  LORRAINE: I like my name. It’s nice.

  OSCAR: It is more than nice. With the name Lorraine, you are destined for a life that’s charmed.

  LORRAINE: How do you figure?

  OSCAR: You got Sweet Lorraine. Laraine Day—very popular film star of the nineteen forties and fifties. Lorraine Hansberry, gifted African-American playwright of the sixties. Quiche Lorraine, a beloved brunch item on several continents.

  LORRAINE: Too heavy. (He shoots her a look.) Not you.

  OSCAR: Then we get to “Oscar.”

  LORRAINE: I knew this was coming.

  OSCAR: Think. Who are the famous Oscars? You’ve got Oscar Madison. Oscar on Sesame Street. And Oscar Meyer. A slob. A grouch. And a very popular brand of wiener. Now, what kind of life is that to aspire to?

  LORRAINE: Oscar Levant.

  OSCAR: Fat dead pianist.

  LORRAINE: Oscar De La Hoya.

  OSCAR: Lightweight.

  LORRAINE: Oscar. The Academy Award. A prize everyone in Hollywood aspires to.

  OSCAR: A short bald guy with great posture and no genitals.

  LORRAINE: You’re not that short.

  OSCAR: (Sarcastically.) Thank you.

  LORRAINE: Oscar. (She comes up from behind and holds him.) Oscar. (Kisses his ear.) Ossscarrrrr. (He relaxes for a moment.) You OK? (He nods yes.) Good.

  OSCAR: Why do you put up with me?

  LORRAINE: Somebody’s got to. Besides I like fat men. (He looks at her.) It’s just a joke. Keep cleaning. (They go back to work.)

  SCENE THREE

  Three months later. OSCAR pulls off a yellow glove and throws the pair in the bucket. They take in the space. It is clean.

  LORRAINE: It’s beautiful.

  OSCAR: It’s nice.

  LORRAINE: You like it?

  OSCAR: I think it’s nice.

  LORRAINE: Smell’s gone.

  OSCAR: Pretty much.

  LORRAINE: Almost entirely.

  OSCAR: Almost.

  LORRAINE: Yeah. “If you build it, they will come.”

  OSCAR: (Realizing:) Oh no. We were supposed to build a baseball field. (She laughs.)

  LORRAINE: Close enough.

  OSCAR: You think. That they’ll come?

  LORRAINE: Yeah. I do.

  OSCAR: Yeah.

  LORRAINE: Yeah.

  (He holds her. They look around for a moment.)

  OSCAR: Now what?

  LORRAINE: Turn up the lights.

  (OSCAR and LORRAINE kiss. Sweet, sexy, passionate. Theater lights fade up bright.

  Blackout.

  For the curtain call, the song “Sweet Lorraine” plays.)

  END OF PLAY

  DOUBLE DATE

  Nina Shengold

  Double Date was first performed during Actors & Writers’ Shorts Festival at the Odd Fellows Theatre, Olivebridge, New York, on November 12, 2005. The cast was as follows, with the playwright directing:

  MAX David Smilow

  MURRAY Mikhail Horowitz

  STELLA Carol Morley

  ADELAIDE Sarah Chodoff

  WAITRESS Sophia Raab

  SETTING

  Minimal indication of Max and Murray’s apartment, and a booth in a Mexican restaurant.

  SCENE ONE

  MURRAY, dressed for a date and trembling with nervous excitement, leans out from behind the proscenium arch as he speaks to MAX, just offstage.

  MURRAY: Hurry up, I don’t want her to wait at the restaurant.

  MAX: (Offstage.) I’m shaving.

  MURRAY: Your chin is a poem, come on.

  MAX: (Offstage.) She’s not going to like you.

  MURRAY: Why not? I’m articulate, debonair, winsome …

  MAX: (Offstage.) Murray.

  MURRAY: What’s not to like?

  MAX: I am.

  (He bumps MURRAY onstage from the side, and we see that they’re Siamese twins, joined at the hip in a slightly diagonal fashion, with their upper torsos rayed out like the arms of a Y.)

  MURRAY: Don’t put yourself down, Max.

  MAX: (Darkly.) They all say it isn’t an issue, but wait till you go for that good-night kiss.

  MURRAY: Well, maybe if you didn’t grope them …

  MAX: They’re my hormones too!

  MURRAY: I’ll say. Anyway, this one is different.

  MAX: They’re all different, Murray. You always think—