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Plays

By Mike Acciarino All Rights Reserved ©

Drama

Bestseller

[A man named David sits without pants on at a table. He smokes and types on a typewriter every few seconds. Next to his typewriter is an ashtray, pencil, and his book, a bestseller written years ago. A woman named Christa enters.]

CHRISTA: Up all night?

DAVID: Yes, dear.

CHRISTA: Get any work done?

DAVID: Yes, dear.

CHRISTA: Coffee? [David takes his cigarette out of his mouth, irritated.] No coffee?

DAVID: Yes, dear.

CHRISTA: Yes as in you don't want coffee or–

DAVID: Coffee – yes, dear!

CHRISTA: Sheesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

DAVID: I didn't even sleep in a – nevermind. It's just, I don't – like to be bothered while I'm working. That's all.

CHRISTA: Work in the other room then.

DAVID: I was here first!

CHRISTA: You want your coffee, don't you?

[David pauses, remembers his coffee. His tone of voice changes.] DAVID: Yes, dear.

CHRISTA: Good. Maybe you can read me some while I eat breakfast. Would you like me to make you something? Eggs? Pancakes?

DAVID: Eggs, please.

CHRISTA: Coming right up, sweety. It'll be ready in a few minutes.

DAVID: I'm not going anywhere.

CHRISTA: Well I am.

DAVID: Right – work. What's that hellhole like?

CHRISTA: Don't push me, David.

[Silence.]

Where are your pants?

DAVID: Lost within the haze of creation.

CHRISTA: Leave that wordy crap for the book. Any reason for the Batman underwear?

DAVID: Inspiration.

CHRISTA: You barely fit in those things anymore!

DAVID: They're a men's size – XL!

[Christa walks to David with his coffee.] CHRISTA: Master Wayne. [She hands him the cup.]

DAVID: Alfred, be a doll and fetch me some sugar.

[David is suddenly disgusted by his cigarette's taste and stabs it into the ashtray in front of him.]

CHRISTA: Here you are. [She hands him the glass jar of sugar.]

DAVID: Thank you, Alfred.

CHRISTA: Yeah, I think we're done with that, sweety. So are you gonna read me some of what you wrote? Where is it?

DAVID: Where is what?

CHRISTA: The manuscript – what you've typed.

[Pause.] DAVID: In the garbage.

CHRISTA: What? [She walks to the garbage can across the room.] It can't be that bad.

[David crawls underneath the table like a child. Christa returns to him, confused and angry.]

David – these pages are blank!

DAVID: The words are invisible.

CHRISTA: You can't do this to me again, David! Do I – Do I need to call your father?

DAVID: No! No, not Papa! Not Leather Buddy!

[A knock at the door. Christa walks to answer it, then turns to look at David.]

CHRISTA: David, Jr., you get off the floor right this instant! [David shakes his head “no.”]

Cassandra! How are you? Please, come in. [Cassandra enters.]

CASSANDRA: Tim and I heard yelling from next door. Is everything all right?

CHRISTA: Everything's peachy. [Cassandra spots David under the table.] Oh he just dropped his contact lenses is all.

CASSANDRA: I didn't know he had a prescription.

DAVID: Don't tell Papa!

CASSANDRA: “Papa”? David's been dead for years, Christa. What is going on? [David enters fetal position and sucks his thumb.] Oh, what is that awful stench? Are you smoking mozzarella?

CHRISTA: It's David. He won't bathe by himself. [David chews on a pencil.] You get used to the smell after a while.

[Cassandra pinches her nose.] CASSANDRA: Forgive me, Christa, but I'm afraid I won't be able to bear it any longer. Have a good day, dear.

CHRISTA: Bye, bye – talk soon!

[Cassandra exits. Christa turns to David.]

How dare you embarrass me like that in front of Mrs. Bloom!

DAVID: I'm sorry, Mama, I just–

CHRISTA: –You just nothing! I'm going to speak to your father about this!

[Christa storms off into the bedroom.]

DAVID: No – Mama!

[Moments later, Christa is dressed in men's work pants and dress shoes. From the floor under the table, David believes her to be his father. Christa speaks in a low, masculine voice.]

CHRISTA: David. [No reply.] David!

DAVID: Y-Yes, Papa?

CHRISTA: What's this your mother tells me? You won't do you work? [David mumbles.] Speak up!

DAVID: It's hard, Papa.

CHRISTA: How do you expect to ever make it on your own? Work – make your mother proud! You want to make her proud don't you?

DAVID: Yes, Papa.

CHRISTA: Good. [Christa unbuckles her belt.] Or else you'll get a visit from my Leather Buddy.

[Christa whips the top of the table with the belt and exits to the bedroom.After a few moments, David sits back in his seat. David begins to type. Christa eventually returns as her herself.]

Hello, sweety. More coffee?

DAVID: Yes, dear.

[Stage goes black.]


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