Wasps in the Pizza Box

Pacifism

2010-06-05T18:30:00.001-07:00

I wish for world peace, have been a vegetarian for nearly five years, hate guns, and wish that my military officer brother had chosen a different occupation. Despite this, I have to grimace when I hear people say that violence doesn't solve problems. Because goddammit, it does. I can attest to this based on my personal experience.
I was teased quite a bit when I was younger. Being that I was a socially awkward child with protruding buck teeth, a mild speech impediment, and an astounding mound of frizzy tentacles of hair, this was somewhat equivalent to shooting a tail-less fish in a very, very small barrel- all too easy. Since my monstrous ponytail was my most striking feature, I eventually became known as "the Yeti" among my peers. And so it was for about three years.
I believe it was sixth grade when all of this finally came to a head. I had the misfortune of being assigned a locker more or less in the middle of my three most persistent tormentors: three prematurely large boys who apparently had nothing better to do than complain about school with new and exciting cuss words, enjoy terrible metal bands, and make me sorry for my genetic makeup on a daily basis. Throughout this time my parents would continually ask me if I was being teased or bullied at school. I would always say no. There were several reasons for this blatant lie. First of all, I was sure that having my parents intervene through the school would only give these three a reason to heckle me beyond what they already mocked. Getting them disciplined through my parents and the administration would have been distant, impersonal, and overall unsatisfying. I would handle this myself.
During what must have been a rainy or otherwise unpleasant day, I finally did. The weather must have been poor, since we were kept inside for recess that day, herded into the gymnasium. I was sitting alone in an unilluminated section of the bleachers under an overhang when the three of them came and stood in front of me on the row beneath mine. One of them greeted me with a typical "Hey, Yeti." My normal response to this would have been my practiced silence and stony face, as I had always subscribed to the credo of "if you ignore them, they'll go away." But that had never worked. And this time I was cornered in the dark, facing a wall of massive enemies who I absolutely despised. So this time I kicked him in the crotch. I didn't hit anything vital, mind you. In fact, I was very careful not to, as that could have potentially caused him some real damage. I was not at all concerned with his physical well-being, but I was concerned that injuring him would turn the situation around and in an ironic twist I would be the one facing discipline. Instead, I hit him high on his inner thigh, about a quarter-inch to the left of what would have made this a much more interesting story. He immediately doubled over and moaned and they all left me alone very quickly. I can't remember the group of them teasing me anymore after that incident.
If you were hoping for a fabulous tale of switchblades and street-fighting vigilante justice, then I'm sorry to disappoint. I've yet to live that much. Still, I can't ignore this moment. The violence was precise and brief, but it worked beautifully. There are times when the world won't respect your silence and all your reason and passion only earns you a derisive guffaw straight in your face. Some people will only respond to a swift kick a hair's breadth from their nads. This applies to individuals, organizations, political parties, governments, armies, and any other imaginable combination of human beings. And as much as I wish it weren't so, they must be dealt with accordingly. Bullies don't listen to reason. Joseph Kony won't respond to peace talks. Hitler wasn't affected by diplomacy.
I officially admit it: sometimes violence is necessary. However, I'm not giving up my ideals and reaching for the grenade launcher just yet. In the situations where violence is truly unavoidable, it must be kept to an absolute minimum for the good of all involved. The fighters must maintain their focus on what is necessary for a decisive victory and not be carried away by their own passions and visceral desire for vengeance. Even in war, we must be precise and logical. If we cannot have peace, then let us at least prevent cruelty.

Viruses

2010-06-03T12:15:00.000-07:00

If you create a computer virus to steal information, passwords, or money, then you are a career criminal with an impressive set of skills and you have my respect, if not my approval. If you use that same skill set to render my computer unusable for any purpose other than the forced viewing of pornography, you deserve to die with a gunshot wound full of cold piss.

Guess what I spent the early hours of this morning trying and failing to get rid of.

Moles and Boulders

2010-04-19T17:53:00.000-07:00

So, I've written another play. I'm fairly pleased with it.

SCENE I

A forest in springtime.

BOULDER
Sits still on the ground, placidly gazing at nothing in particular.

TREE
Stands behind him, also still and quiet. After a time, she makes a displeased face and looks down to the ground. Hey!... Hey, stop it!

MOLE
Pokes his head out of the ground, looking up at her.

TREE
Glaring down at him. Stop chewing on my roots.

MOLE
I’m hungry.

TREE
I don’t care. Stop it.

MOLE
No. He ducks down into the dirt again.

TREE
Hey! Stop it!

BOULDER
Calmly and unconcerned. Don’t get upset, he won’t eat much.

TREE
I don’t care. I don’t want him eating me.

BOULDER
Well, he’ll be dead in a year or two anyway.

TREE
Huffs and scowls, but stops shouting.

FAWN
Big-eyed and afraid, she slowly steps into view, looking all around her. Mama?... Mama? She starts to cry. Neither TREE nor BOULDER react.

COYOTE
Follows after her, snapping her neck and tossing her limp corpse over his shoulder. He continues walking.

TREE
Watching this with an unaffected disinterest.

BOULDER
Looks up. It’s starting to rain.

TREE
Looking up and smiling. Oh, good. I need some water.

The pair goes silent as the rain comes down. A few drops increase to a drizzle which erupts into a downpour.

MOLE
Bursts out of the muddy ground, coughing and sputtering. He struggles in the rain and mud, moving away.

TREE
Looks down from bathing her face in the rain. She watches MOLE wriggle away. I suppose he won’t survive. The flood will do him in.

BOULDER
Yes, most likely.

TREE
I hope so. He’s an awful nuisance. A bolt of lightning strikes her and she splits in half.

BOULDER
Looks back at her, his face expressing surprise for the first time. Did that kill you? He waits and receives no response. Left alone in the rain, he sits and looks startled and disturbed. He stares ahead and after a short while, WATER slinks up and, standing in a crouch begins to rub her back against him- NOT SEXUAL! Boulder stares at her quizzically. Where did you come from?

STREAM
I just flooded over the bank uphill. I think I’ll run down here from now on.

BOULDER
No, you won’t. You’ll dry up when the rain stops and then you’ll go back to your regular course.

STREAM
I don’t think so.

BOULDER
Why not? You’ve never run down here.

STREAM
No. But the old bank is eroded. It’s washed away. It’s gone. I’m here now.

BOULDER
Frowns Well, you won’t be for long.

STREAM
Yes, I will.

BOULDER
Not as long as I will.

STREAM
No, I think you might be wrong about that.

BOULDER
I’m not. I’ll outlast you.

STREAM
You might not.

BOULDER
I always do.

STREAM
But you can’t be so sure about me. We’ve never met before.

BOULDER
I can tell. You won’t be here for long. You came quickly and you’ll leave quickly.

STREAM
But I might stay for ages. It’s impossible to tell.

BOULDER
You won’t. You don’t ever even settle down. You haven’t stopped squirming since you got here.

STREAM
That’s the way I am.

BOULDER
Inconsistent? That’s how you are?

STREAM
No. Adaptable.

BOULDER
You could benefit from a little constancy.

STREAM
I can be constant.

BOULDER
I doubt that.

STREAM
Oh, no, I can be. The rain slows to a drizzle and then stops. The sun breaks through. See? The rain’s stopped and I’m still here.

BOULDER
Not for long.

STREAM
We’ll see.
Times passes. STREAM never stops rubbing against BOULDER.

FLY
Runs onstage screaming and running in circles. He falls offstage, dead.

FEMALE RABBIT
Hops onstage, followed closely by MALE RABBIT.

MALE RABBIT
Hey! Hey, you’re a lady- I can smell it!

FEMALE RABBIT
Spins around. You’re a man!

MALE RABBIT
YEAH! Come on, let’s procreate!

FEMALE RABBIT
OKAY!
The pair hop behind fallen TREE and, after several seconds, pop out with a cluster of five BABY RABBITS. All hop offstage.

BOULDER
Looking down at himself at the spot where STREAM has been rubbing. Something’s happening.

STREAM
Something’s always happening.

BOULDER
No, what are you doing to me?

STREAM
I’m eroding you.

BOULDER
What?

STREAM
I’m eroding you.

BOULDER
Stop it! Stop that right now!

STREAM
Why? It’s happened to you before.

BOULDER
No, it hasn’t! It never has! I’ve always been the same, right here!

STREAM
That’s not true at all. How do you think you got here?

BOULDER
Pauses and frowns. I don’t remember.

STREAM
You haven’t always been here. And you’ve certainly been eroded before. I can recognize the signs.

BOULDER
Are you really positive?

STREAM
Absolutely. I do it so often myself, I can recognize it anywhere.

BOULDER
But what happened to me then?

STREAM
The same thing that’s happening to you now. You’re disintegrating.

BOULDER
With gravity and realization. I’m being destroyed.

STREAM
Oh, hardly. You’re just changing.

GOOSE 1
Lands in the stream, flapping and honking out every syllable. HERE! HERE! HERE! HERE!

GOOSE 2
Still flapping past and not landing, honking back to GOOSE 1. SOUTH! SOUTH! SOUTH! SOUTH!

GOOSE 1
Flapping and rising into the air again, though clearly annoyed. FINE! FINE! FINE! FINE!
They both flap offstage.

BOULDER
I’m wearing away.

STREAM
Yes. You’re breaking down.

BOULDER
What will happen to me?

STREAM
You’ll be silt- I’ll carry you for a while.

BOULDER
Really? I’ll flow?

STREAM
Yes.

OTTER
Comes onstage splashing through the water, laughing, leaping and whooping. He passes offstage.

STREAM
You’ll be swimming with him soon.

BOULDER
Watches OTTER leap offstage and smiles. That would be something.

STREAM
Smiles with him. It will be. And you’ll even help erode other boulders. You’ll be right in contact with them. That’s what’s eroding you even now, you know- the silt that I’m already carrying. You’ll be mixed in and moving with it.

BOULDER
Looks down at himself, grinning.

MOUSE
Sprints onstage, running in a panic to escape from FOX.

FOX
Runs on after mouse, ducking and weaving with him and following his every move.

HAWK
Swoops down and snatches MOUSE just as FOX lunges for him.

FOX
Hey! No fair! He dashes after HAWK as she flaps away carrying MOUSE. Soon after, he returns, grumbling and irate. Ugh, an empty belly and a parched throat… It’s so hot! He flops down in the water, rolling in it and drinking. After a time, he gets up and shakes, plodding offstage.

STREAM
Sinks lower on BOULDER, moving more slowly and less forcefully.

BOULDER
Looking down at her. You seem different.

STREAM
You said yourself that I’m always changing.

BOULDER
You said you could be constant.

STREAM
I can be- just not right now. All this time she is sinking lower and lower.

BOULDER
Looking down at her. You’re drying up.

STREAM
It would seem so. It’s been so dry, I can’t keep on.

BOULDER
But you’ll be back, won’t you? You’ll be back when the rain comes.

STREAM
I’m not sure. I might not come back this way again.

BOULDER
You have to.

STREAM
Nothing has to happen.

BOULDER
But who will erode me? I’ll be stuck here.

STREAM
Drying up, she is down on the ground as far as she can be, slinking and crawling back the way she came.

LIZARD
Strolling jerkily through the forest, he sees boulder, then climbs up onto him. He stretches out in the sun and shuts his eyes with a contented sigh. Ah, now that’s it. What a lovely sunning spot you make. It's so wonderful to know that I can always come here.

BOULDER
Ignores him, staring off in the direction that STREAM receded.

FADE OUT

THE END

Los Angeles, November 2019

2010-04-11T13:25:00.000-07:00

I never feel more like I'm living in a science fiction novel than when I walk through the gas station into the attached mini-mart. Walking between pumps used to fuel vehicles that can take you anywhere a road leads at breakneck speed would be interesting enough on its own. But add in the city lights of nighttime and the experience gets that much more surreal. On top of that, there are the ridiculous television screens on every pump airing the ultra-specialized Pump TV, or whatever the name of the network is. It's mostly the stories I hear aired on those TVs that really makes the situation laughably strange and over the top. For instance, I just walked by there and heard about an orangutan who is celebrating its fiftieth birthday. Another time I heard a quick snippet about the world's largest rubber band ball. I'm not trying to get preachy and say that we're over stimulated by TV and everything else going on, I'm just saying that I occasionally feel like I'm living in "Blade Runner."
Also, the chapstick I just bought at said mini-mart cost me $2.63. Is a tube of chapstick really equivalent in worth to a gallon of gasoline? I suppose the gas would get me farther quicker, but the chapstick will keep me from getting windchapped while I walk to get there.

Dinner and a Show.

2010-03-22T14:14:00.000-07:00

This post contains strong language. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing, you may want to pass on by- but if that's the case then really, what are you doing on the internet anyway?

SCENE I

Scene: Exterior of a slaughterhouse in the late morning. Two men sit leaning against it, eating chicken sandwiches. One, Lewis, is thin and small with disheveled dark hair. The other, Harij, is Indian, roughly the same build. Both are clad in uniforms of bloodstained coveralls. Above them on the wall is a poster featuring a smiling man in the same uniform with a whole, feathered, smiling chicken skewered on a fork. A caption reads “You killed it. Now enjoy it. Keep up the good work!” They sit in silence as they eat.

BUTTERTON
Struts into view with an unneeded decorated cane, his ample gut hidden beneath a ridiculously thick fur coat. He smiles down at the men with an obviously false gentility, speaking in a heavy Southern accent. How you likin’ them com-plee-mentry chicken sandwiches, boys?

LEWIS
Pretty sorry compensation for eliminating the insurance program.

BUTTERTON
Laughs and waves his hand dismissively. That’s the trouble with you boys: no head for business. Just like a kid. Doesn’t see how the toy works, just figures all he needs to do is wind it up. Well, let me tell you, there’s a whole mess of gears and springs inside that little doodad that the kid just can’t see. And he’s just like you. He shakes his head and laughs condescendingly Just like you. Won’t never understand.

LEWIS
Stares up at him with a vaguely annoyed expression Just like you won’t never understand the meaning of a double negative.

BUTTERTON
Unsure of what is being said, but figuring that he is perhaps being insulted. What’s that now?

LEWIS
Nodding to the man’s ostentatious garment Is that a new coat?

BUTTERTON
Brightening immediately, forgetting his concerns You noticed, heh? Well, damn right it is, boy. Had it sewn by one o’ them I-talian fellas. Those olive-pluckin’ fingers sure stitch pretty good too. ‘Course, I got all the fur myself.

LEWIS
‘Course. How many beavers have you got sewn together there?

BUTTERTON
Pridefully Not a one, boy! This is mink, lynx, wolverine, and Rutherford fox.

LEWIS
Rutherford fox?

BUTTERTON
Tha’s right. You ain’t never heard of it. He chuckles And you sure won’t now.

LEWIS
I suppose being singularly responsible for the extinction of a species does make a coat all the warmer.

BUTTERTON
Damn right, boy. Little fellas went to good use. Even made use o’ the little bastards still sucking on her teat. He sticks his hands into his pockets and pulls them out, proudly displaying them clad in a pair of mittens, each made from the stretched out, taxidermied body of a fox cub. He extends these and wiggles them in front of Harij’s face. Whaddya think Bhudda? You like ‘em?

LEWIS
He’s Hindu.

BUTTERTON
Laughs Don’t matter, they ain’t no different. Ah, bet you still don’t speak English, though, do you?

HARIJ
Looks up at Butterton with a smile

BUTTERTON
Smiling back at him. Well, good. Keeps you quiet, doesn’t it, boy?

HARIJ
Maintains his smile.

BUTTERTON
Laughs and looks back to Lewis. Make sure you and Buddha are back to work in five. And remember Tapping his cane against the poster. You killed it. He points to the sandwiches. So enjoy it. With a final wide smile he struts out of view.

LEWIS
Speaking as Butterton leaves, unable to hear him. See you later, you furry ball of idiot.

The pair finish their sandwiches. As Butterton exits, a commotion is heard on the opposite side of the scene (left). Lewis and Harij look up to see a pair of unwashed, grubby people move into view. There is one woman, Saffron, and one man, Sassafras. Saffron carries a battered wooden guitar while Sassafras carries a bundle of freshly picked daisies and dandelions. Both are wearing loose clothing consisting of frayed jeans, tie tied shirts, fringe, etc. Their hair is long and unbrushed and their bare feet are very dirty. They look as if they have just crawled out of a cow pasture or a forest. Lewis and Harij both stare. Saffron and Sassafras both come forward, kneeling on either side of Lewis and Harij. They lean in very close, causing Lewis to lean back.

SAFFRON
Speaking slowly Is this the place where you kill our chicken friends.

LEWIS
Nope. This is where we kill dumb animals and make them into food.

SASSAFRAS
Hey, that’s no way to talk.

LEWIS
Really? I do it all the time.

SAFFRON
You shouldn’t. It’s that sort of talk and thinking that’s brought us to this.

LEWIS
This being, what exactly?

SAFFRON
This being murder.

LEWIS
I just call it finger-lickin’ good dinner, but say it however you want.

SASSAFRAS
Smiles and reaches around Harij to stroke Lewis’s head. Shush, Brother. You don’t know what you’re saying.

LEWIS
Pulls back Listen, maybe if you weren’t bearded I would feel differently, but as it is, you need to at least tell me your name before you go petting me.

SASSAFRAS
Grinning with fascination and near pity Look at him… scared of human touch… how long has it been since you got hugged?

LEWIS
Leaning farther back. I could go on for quite a while longer, thank you.

SAFFRON
Aw, you’ll come around. My name is Saffron. She extends her arm to her companion. This is Sassafras.

SASSAFRAS
Nods with a slow smile.

SAFFRON
Pointing to Lewis’s chest where his name is embroidered And you’re Lewis. She reaches over to Harij and does the same. And you’re Harij.

HARIJ
Points at himself and smiles, his eyes bright as he nods.

SASSAFRAS
Still smiling. See? So now we know each other. He pulls the two men into a hug and Saffron wraps around them as well, holding them in from the other side.

BUTTERTON
Running back into view from the right, his immense girth holding him back as he waddles. What the hell are you hippies doin’!? Have your orgies someplace else, ya freaks! He raises his cane and whacks Sassafras on the head. And leave mah employees out of it!

SASSAFRAS
Lowering his head, remaining calm as Lewis breaks away, pulling Harij with him. Hey, man… come on…. Peace.

BUTTERTON
Brandishing his cane. Ya want some peace? Ya’ll better get outta here ‘fore I break your skull into pieces!

LEWIS
Taking Sassafras by the shoulder and tugging him back. Back off, idiot. Are you trying to get killed?

SAFFRON
Rising to her feet and coming toward Butterton. You run this death mill?

BUTTERTON
Puffing out his chest as she approaches. Proudly so for nineteen years.

SAFFRON
Well…. That’s going to stop.

BUTTERTON
Stares at her incredulously, then guffaws in her face. Woman, there ain’t nothing you can do to put an end to this business. So let’s just save you the trouble and have you and your little monkey friend turn tail and head on home now.

SAFFRON
Shakes her head. No… we stay until the chickens come with us.

SASSAFRAS
Picking up the guitar and tuning it. Yeah, man… we’re staying here as long as that takes.

BUTTERTON
Stares at the hippies as Saffron sits down beside Sassafras as he begins to strum the guitar. He looks to his employees, hoping for some support. Lewis simply stares back at him. Harij sways back and forth, bobbing in time to the music with a smile on his face. Butterton shakes his head, hardly believing his eyes and ears. Back to work in three, boys. He turns and walks away.

SCENE II

Scene: Butterton’s office. Everything is upholstered in leather and every available surface serves as a platform to hold a taxidermied animal. The larger specimens stand on the floor. Butterton stands behind his desk, taking a swig from an ornate hip flask. Lewis and Harij sit in small leather chairs in front of the desk.

SAFFRON & SASSAFRAS
Their voices heard through the open window as they sing and play the guitar.
There are chickens in the trees,
that is where they ought to be.
Won’t you let them soar the breeze?
Let our chicken friends fly free!
There are chickens-

BUTTERTON
Slams the window, cutting them off and grumbling Goofy bastards… He mutters and shakes his head, turning back to his employees. Alright, boys. We’re goin’ on two weeks dealing with these freaks. I just wanted to express a little gratitude. They may be annoying as all hell, but y’all ’ve kept up a steady production rate. So keep up the good work.

HARIJ
Points to his belly rubbing it hungrily and pantomimes eating a sandwich.

BUTTERTON
Laughs Ya hungry, Buddha? He pushes a plate of sandwiches across his desk to Harij

HARIJ
Takes the sandwich, eating with hungry relish

BUTTERTON
Looking to Lewis What are you mopin’ for? Take one.

LEWIS
No, thanks. I’m saving some room for later; I’m going to visit an old friend, she’s serving something nice and fresh, a dish called Hansel and Gretel.

BUTTERTON
Shoving the plate toward Lewis Can it, smartass. You’re either in here or you’re out there with those hippies. Ya want to find yourself a new job?

LEWIS
Rolls his eyes. Maybe I just don’t want to make a grown man cry again.

BUTTERTON
Laughing If that tree-huggin’ pussy can’t stand the sight of you eatin’ a perfectly good sandwich, that’s his problem. When did you get so sensitive, huh? You gonna go outside and sing to the flowers with your new friends?

LEWIS
Scowls at Butterton, but takes a sandwich

BUTTERTON
Looking satisfied That’s what I thought. Now remember, we’re getting a shipment of chickens tomorrow mornin’, so be here early. He sits down and turns his chair away from them, picking up the phone. They are clearly dismissed.

LEWIS
Stands up along with Harij, walking to the door. He sighs and hands his sandwich to Harij.

HARIJ
Takes the sandwich, biting into it with a smile.

SCENE III
Scene: Exterior of the slaughterhouse in the early morning, just prior to sunrise. Saffron and Sassafras sit off to the side, singing and strumming louder than ever.

LEWIS
Looking back at the singing pair and ranting to Harij, though he is speaking mostly to himself. He is unloading crates of clucking chickens from the back of a truck, stacking them offstage. They’re not doing anything? Why aren’t they doing anything?

HARIJ
Smiles at him and continues unloading chickens.

BUTTERTON
Struts toward Saffron and Sassafras with a pompous swagger. He is carrying a cardboard carton. He stops in front of the pair and smiles. Howdy there, y’all. The two stop singing and strumming and look up at him. Now, you two have been awfully reasonable these past few weeks- haven’t tried to start no riots, haven’t hurt nobody…. Hell, y’all haven’t even tried anything today. So, to thank you, I’ll give you just a little bit of what you want. You get a chicken. I’m settin’ this one free, just like ya’ll ‘ve been askin’ for.

SAFFRON
She and Sassafras are clearly thrilled. Oh, brother I knew you’d come around! You’ve really got a heart of gold!

BUTTERTON
Grinning and handing the box to her. Oh, I try, sweetie.

SASSAFRAS
Peace, man! Peace! I knew you felt it! He leans over the box with Saffron, pulling it open with her and peering inside. Suddenly his face falls and his eyes widen. He moves his hand to his gaping mouth, horrified by what he sees.

SAFFRON
Reaches into the box, moving slowly and reverently as she pulls out a whole roasted chicken. She looks up at Butterton, looking miserable and sickened and ready to burst into tears herself.

BUTTERTON
Guffaws. Be good to ‘im now. He went through a hell of a lot to get to you. He explodes into another burst of laughter and bends over, bracing himself against his knees as he shakes and the hippies cry, holding themselves and the chicken.

LEWIS
Not shocked by this, but truly angered by it, he stares for a moment before placing the crate of chickens he is holding back in the truck. He spins around and grabs the crate that Harij is holding, returning it to the truck as well. He runs inside the slaughterhouse and comes back carrying two crates at once. Harij only stands back and watches, intrigued by this. Lewis runs offstage to the front of the truck. A scuffle is heard as a man shouts “What the hell are you doing?!” and a loud thump is heard. The truck’s engine roars and the vehicle pulls away.

BUTTERTON
Stops laughing and straightens up, turning around and watching as the truck full of chickens drives away. His eyes bulge for a moment before he leans back and sprints forward as quickly as his bulging girth will allow him to move.

HARIJ
Watches this and finally shakes his head and laughs to himself.

SCENE IV
Scene: Exterior of the slaughterhouse, early afternoon. Sassafras sits petting the gently clucking chicken lying on his lap as Saffron looks up at the sky. They are passing a lit joint back and forth, smoking it slowly. Harij comes out of the slaughterhouse, coming to stand next to them. He holds his hand out and they pass the joint to him without a second thought. He sits down, smoking and passing with them for a few moments without any of them saying anything.

SAFFRON
Have they found him yet?

HARIJ
Speaking without an accent. Not yet. I’d give it a few hours though. There’s only so many places you can go with a truckful of chickens.

SASSAFRAS
Maybe he found a nice field somewhere to drop ‘em off…. Kinda like a chicken paradise, ya know? Blue sky, green grass… that’d be nice.

HARIJ
Not likely. They sit quietly for a few more moments

SAFFRON
So Butter’s pretty mad, huh?

HARIJ
Pissed. I’ve never seen him this angry.

SAFFRON
So what do you think’ll happen? To Lewis….

HARIJ
Oh, he’ll go to jail. Grand theft auto, assault on the driver, speeding, stealing all those chickens… He shrugs Yeah, he’s not getting out of this a free man.

SASSAFRAS
Huh…. Sucks, man… He pets the chicken some more, then looks up at Harij. Wanna hold him?

HARIJ
That’s a she. And no.

SASSAFRAS
Don’t you like him?

HARIJ
Her. And no.

SASSAFRAS
Aw, come on… Why not? Animals are just like people.

HARIJ
Exactly.

SASSAFRAS
Huh?

HARIJ
I hate people. Why do you think I let them think I couldn’t even speak English?

SAFFRON
Oh, hey…. You can.

HARIJ
Nods. Yeah. I grew up in Detroit. I’ve never even been to India. He shrugs. It’s better this way. No one bothers me. And don’t think I’d be talking to you either if you weren’t sharing this. He takes a final drag off the joint.

SASSAFRAS
You kinda seemed to like Lewis.

HARIJ
Yeah. He was a reasonable guy. Full of himself, but who isn’t? But then you two came around and got into his head. Now he’s fucked himself over and he’s a screwed pooch.

SAFFRON
So that must mean you don’t like us very much.

HARIJ
Shit, I hate the two of you. I don’t know if I could come up with two people that annoy me more.

SASSAFRAS
That’s awful harsh.

SAFFRON
Yeah… why do you hate us so much?

HARIJ
Because you don’t do shit. You’re just emotional heaps of wasted space. You say you care about all this nonsense, but you just sit here and sing about it. You’ve got some nice dreams, but you’re never going to see them realized. So it’s not as if I hate what you stand for. I just hate you because you’re so fucking useless. At least Lewis tried.

SASSAFRAS
Shrugs and returns to petting the chicken.

SAFFRON
Shrugs. Maybe… She pulls a small cloth bag out of her shirt and begins to assemble another joint. Would you like some more?

HARIJ
Standing up. Nah, I’m done… He looks to the cardboard box and points to it. You don’t want that, do you? Saffron and Sassafras both shake their heads. Harij picks up the box and walks offstage.

Fade out.

THE END.

Cookie

2010-03-22T12:35:00.000-07:00

A little after midnight this morning I ate a cookie that I found in a trashcan. I'm glad that I can at least reflect on this and say without pause that this was not the lowest point of my life. And I'm sure lower moments are still over the horizon.

Boston

2010-03-15T22:59:00.000-07:00

For someone who grew up living on the edge of a beaver pond, I think I've adapted pretty well to life in the city. To be fair, I'm not truly experiencing the complete brute force of it on my own. My college campus provides a very present cushion between myself and the world outside. Despite that, living here has definitely forced me to develop a bit. For the first few months, I would walk down Commonwealth Avenue thinking of all the fun I could have if all those people around me would just go away. There's a set of carved pillar that I've never passed by without a wistful look and a thought of how much I'd like to climb them. I generally plan to wait for a "Stand"-like plague to eliminate most of the population so that I can do so without being interrupted.

I experienced a shift in that line of thinking while eating a burrito about half a month ago. The man who had made it for me was surprisingly friendly and conversational. He had even managed to engage me in a conversation that didn't leave me feeling awkward or nervous (not an easy task). About four bites into the burrito, my teeth hit on something much too hard to belong among beans and cheese. It turned out to be a piece of plastic. I told the manager who happened to be at the register, then had another burrito made for me free of charge. So the friendly employee and I continued our conversation, talking about other horrible and terrifying foreign objects we'd found in food in the past, like glass in salad (or wasps in a pizza box, for that matter). And I didn't even care that I had nearly ingested a shard of plastic. I was downright glad. It had given me a chance to extend a spontaneous human interaction and made me realize how much I enjoy it. So I realized that I do like the city. I love the endless opportunities it gives for people to stumble into each other and do anything at all. This is a tad frightening when you consider the possibilities for harm that it allows, but beyond that, it's mind-boggling and fascinating.

Challenge Accepted

2010-03-12T12:09:00.000-08:00

A little more than two hours ago, my best friend, Keira, and I went to visit our old high school and, seeing as we only graduated last May, not much had changed. That turned out to be more pleasant than dull, though, as we were able to pay a visit to our old English teacher, Mr. Zawada (I suppose I'm taking some liberties using your real name, but I'm not planning on posting anything about the omicide-hay or the immigration trouble, so rest easy). There was some discussion about college and careers and I had to make the unfortunate admission that I'm not really sure what I'm going to college for or what I hope to be doing in a few years. I mentioned my interest in English and history, but was quickly reminded that those are painfully broad fields. True enough. And, admittedly, I need to hone my skills in writing if I want to have any sort of success in those fields. We got to talking about blogging as a way to not only practice writing, but to share your thoughts and views with the world, provided you get past the initial awkwardness of actually telling people about your blog and having your writing scrutinized by them. The conversation ended with him issuing a mutual challenge to himself and to me to start our own blogs, then send each other the links. So with each other and Keira as readers, we're up to two followers already. Start strong. As you can see, Zawada, your challenge has been accepted. I'll hope to hear from you soon.

As for the title, I've discovered that staring at an internet page for fifteen minutes does not produce a sudden inspiration when trying to name your new blog. If anyone understands the reference, please let me know. Otherwise, just think of it as a metaphor for life. The pizza is the good part, the wasps are the nasty surprises. Deep stuff, man.