Play: Boredom

1

B O R E D O M ___________ A Ten Minute Play in Two Acts by Daniel A. Scurek

Copyright © 2007 by Daniel A. Scurek

2790 Packford Ln. Aurora, IL 60502 630-898-9001 [H] 630-401-6549 [Cell] [email protected]

2 Cast of Characters Mona:

28 years of age.

Tom:

28 years of age. Setting

A dilapidated motor hotel in an undisclosed location. Time 4:00. AUTHOR’S NOTE I’ve divided this ten-minute play into two acts. Although not mandatory (after all…who am I?), I feel that a nice, leisurely, fifteen-minute stretch between the two acts is critical in order for audience members to fully appreciate the script’s concept and for the producers to fully benefit from the sale of concessions. If production personnel really, really want to do it without intermission, okay (of course). But then TOM will need a body-double to come out wearing the dermatological facial mask at the end of Act I—and there should be nothing more than a quick “lights out/lights up” in order to properly suspend the audience’s amazed disbelief at his seemingly lightningquick, facial-mask-removing skills as they witness the real TOM in place at the start of Act II.

“Make me one with everything.” —Zen Buddhist ordering a hot dog

3 ACT I SETTING:

A motor hotel, neither fancy nor dilapidated. The hotel clock reads 4:00. With blinds down and curtain drawn, it might be a.m. or p.m.

AT RISE:

MONA stretches across the bed. The bedding, though not pulled down, has apparently been slept on a few nights. She shakes her restless legs not looking at TOM. She wears a blouse and skirt, no hose, shoes off. Her index finger twirls her long blonde curls. TOM sits silently in a chair wearing an old, worn but nice suit, loose tie, cowboy boots. Dropping her knee with a thud, MONA sighs deeply, not looking at TOM.

...I'm trying to be nice.

TOM Are you tired?

MONA (Whistles Dixie twenty seconds. TOM stands) Tired? (Overtly seductive giggle, raspy voice) Tired…you ask? TOM (Paces for a moment then looks at MONA) Yeah. MONA (Giggles, still not looking at TOM) Say it again. TOM Are you tired?

4 MONA No! (Playful, seductive, cute, etc.) You’re hot. Get it? Just plain hot. Dependable. Simple. Good old-fashioned reliable; neat, inexorable, tried-andtrue hot. You make my ass laugh. (She laughs. TOM stares) I'll try this again.

TOM Are you tired?

MONA (Stops laughing, mock serious) Are you? TOM No. MONA Well then... (A true question) ...Tom? TOM Yeah. Tom. MONA Well, then, Tom... (Serious) ...I'll pass. (Sighing it) I'll pass...Tom. (Forty-five second pause: TOM stares at MONA while she stares at the ceiling. MONA suddenly lifts herself, turns and looks directly at TOM) Oh. (Lying down, again staring at the ceiling) You’re so quiet. TOM (Moves to his chair about to sit but doesn't) Well, to be honest, I’d like to tell you that I think I would like to lie down. MONA Well, you sure do seem to find yourself taking the long way around a sentence now don’t you, cowboy?

5

(With a fingertip, she draws large and small loops on the bed, humming. TOM looks away. Pause. TOM sighs. Pause. He shifts his weight from left to right foot and flicks his index finger under his nose a couple times to brush away an itch. Beat. He looks at her. She doesn’t look at him. He sits in his chair. Beat. MONA rises, crosses to the dresser, grabs a cigarette, lights it. Pause. She returns to her spot on the bed) TOM (Half to himself) Yeah, you know, I really don't believe this. time for this. (Beat) Pencils?

I don’t have

MONA (Repeatedly, rhythmically, shaking her head “no” but exaggerated and loose) No. Boxes? Manilla folders?

TOM Paper clips?

MONA (Shaking her head “no” in the same manner) No. TOM File folders! Pad? Paperweight? (Shaking her head “no” in the same manner) Mucilage, multigraph, switchboard? No coffee spoons? (Shaking her head “no” in the same manner) Why is that? MONA (Stops shaking her head) I don’t know but you know but I don’t know but you know… TOM Comma. Lavatory. Unalterable pathos. Order. I need order. I placed an order. (TOM turns his face from her) Didn’t I?

6 MONA (MONA hears a noise outside, runs to the window, peaks out from the drape) Oh, no! They closed it…?! They’re closing it! What should we do?! (She turns suddenly to him for a second) Tom…! What—Tom? TOM Yeah. Tom. MONA (Back to the window) Shit! (Beat. No reaction. Her next line is rhetorical) Are you serious? (Beat; still looking out the window) Fuck me! (Beat; still looking out the window) Unbelievable. (Beat; she lets the curtain drop) Well. (Pause. She thinks) I’m gonna eat one. Why not? They’re not open. (MONA runs offstage into the bathroom. While she’s gone, TOM nearly leaps to the dresser mirror, quickly, nervously, checks his face closely in the mirror, tugs one nostril up with his thumb, tilts his head back and scrutinizes the image in the mirror. We hear the sound of a blender in the bathroom. TOM reaches into his nostril with his other hand and plucks something. It causes him great pain. He then quickly runs back to his chair and plops himself down as before trying to appear as if he never moved) TOM (Takes a newspaper off the dresser, opens it, starts reading. Suddenly he puts the paper down, shuts his eyes tightly and says the following) Muscles are tough, elastic tissues made of cells, baby, made of cells! You hear me?! Made of cells! (Very angry, reading the paper, not looking up) Held together by cells. No ice in the tub. No input from the peanut gallery.

7

MONA (Brightly entering the room with a bowl of popcorn, she plops herself down on the chair behind TOM, dangling her legs over the arm in a restless fashion) Popcorn! TOM MADE…OF…CELLS. MONA I heard you. Wow. Whoo-hoo. Made of cells. Rah-rah. (Holding up the bowl of popcorn) Spicy-ranch popcorn? (He doesn’t look at her. Beat. She moves onto a different topic, resumes eating) I can’t believe they did that. No biggie, really. We could always...you looking at me? (Pause) Tom. Tom? Tom-tom! (He looks at MONA) Go back to the reunion. You could. But without me. (He grins stupidly. She raises the popcorn) Spicy ranch? (She looks at his face) What’s on your face? (He turns his face away from her) Take my car. Don’t you want to go back? Dressed in clothes? (He crosses to bed and sits, not facing her) It will grow back, Tom. Skin and muscle grow back. Cells are not plastic. Amino acids? Not plastic. TOM You haven’t experienced me at all. MONA Yeah, you know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I don’t even know you. Who are you again? (MONA laughs, speaks intellectually) No. Let's give an example, shall we? Lets. If a boy's called Blimpy, he's fat, right? And if, say, a girl's called Crater, she has zits, right? TOM (TOM rises, walks toward the bathroom) I’m not fat.

8 MONA No, you’re just gonzo for paper clips. “Which doesn’t make me fat, mama!” I’m not saying it does, Tom. Okay? (Sitting up) Don't go to sleep! (TOM stops) “Why shouldn’t I go to sleep, mama?” Excuse me, you're not tired! Yea! And Mona wins! Mona wins! Mona wins! Cool. I am awesome. (“High-fives” herself in the mirror) Cool chick. Totally cool. Don’t you agree, sir? (Pause. She covers her mouth quickly then uncovers it. She yells:) AM I BEING TOO LOUD?! TOM Christ! What are you on? MONA Oh!!! You don't have to get up at seven.

Never mind.

TOM (TOM continues to the bathroom) I know what you’re on.

MONA Don’t have to take your car in! You can’t! They’re closed! …say that, now?!

TOM What’s that? And she says it again…!?

Your car...oops!

MONA That car you drove here... TOM

(He waits) Go on. MONA (She stares at him then speaks very gravely) You don’t want me to talk about it, do you? (They stare at each other thirty seconds. Then—with no change of expression—she lets out a large belch. He walks to the bathroom) So, that’s what you think? That’s the whole enchilada? (Pause) What else did you pierce?

9 TOM Now she's talking to herself. MONA Can I say something? TOM (Back in the room for a brief moment) No. (Exits to the bathroom again) MONA Without you cutting yourself? TOM Without you cutting yourself! (Pause) MONA I won’t say it. TOM (Entering, speaking very seriously) We’ll drive separately. MONA (Serious) I really am very sorry I told her. (Pause. They regard each other for a moment) TOM I used to be considered good-looking. MONA Talk to me, baby. TOM (Feeling in his mouth with his tongue) I still have flesh in my teeth. Unbelievable. I need floss. (TOM exits to the bathroom) MONA (To herself) She used to be your…mom??? TOM

10 I’ll go to sleep after I floss. I can’t sleep until I floss. Sometimes I have to floss more than just my teeth. Afternoon or night. In bed or on the go! Go where?

Wait.

To bed?

You can have the bed.

MONA No. To sleep.

TOM I’ll make do.

MONA (Quietly to herself) If you expect to have sex, say “yeah”. (Shouting to him) TOM! TOM WHAT? MONA (Shouting to him) NOTHING. (To herself) What besides teeth can you possibly floss? (Dead pause.

Then:)

TOM (Still in the bathroom, singing “Vive Las Vegas” in a mock but sincere Elvis Pressley) “Bright light city gonna set my soul, Gonna set my soul on fire! Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn, So get those stakes up higher! There's a thousand pretty women waitin' out there, And they're all livin' devil may care, And I'm just the devil with love to spare, Viva Las Vegas! Viva Las Vegas!” (Begin slow but perceptible fade to black) MONA I'm going to have to get in there, too, for a little bit, handsome. TOM What’d you call me?

11 MONA What was your nickname in high school? (She waits; he doesn’t answer. Beat) TOM! (Pause) TOM (Not seen) What. MONA Dolor? Pad and paperweight? Baby? (Very quietly) If "stupid" was your nickname, say, “yeah”. (Pause. Yelling to him) WAS THAT IT?! TOM (Enters. His hair is up in a towel, a greyish dermatological facial mask coating his face. An unlit, slightly-smoked cigar dangles from his mouth. MONA, again, shakes her head “no” in big circles) What? MONA Huh? (They regard each other for a moment. Beat. TOM sits in a chair. Pause. MONA continues to shake her head in big circles) Ho………………hum………… (Pause) Ho………… (She stops shaking her head, pulls off a blonde wig, revealing dark brown hair) ………HUM!

BLACKOUT

END OF ACT I ACT II

12

SETTING:

The same motor hotel, neither fancy nor dilapidated. The hotel clock reads 4:00. With blinds down and curtain drawn, it might be a.m. or p.m.

AT RISE:

Lights rise to reveal TOM and MONA sitting at a very nicely made but simple card table. TOM looks as he did at the start of the play though he still holds the same unlit cigar he came out of the bathroom with at the end of ACT I. MONA looks the same as she did at the end of ACT I. They play Scrabble.

TOM (Placing letters on the board) T-E-N-T! Tent! MONA (Immediately takes her turn, placing letters on the board, swallowing TOM’S word) E-X-I-S-T-E-N-T-I-A-L. (She collects more letters. Pause) TOM That’s not a word. (Pause) MONA Tom? TOM Yeah? BLACKOUT END OF PLAY