Writing Challenge - Write A Bad Play

Challenge: Gosh, you're a terrible writer. No. Really. Total hack job. The WORST.

...but I say, own it.

Write a bad play. No, not just a bad play, the WORST play.

Nope! I know what your'e thinking- worse than that. C'mon, you've seen bad theater. You know bad writing. You're an expert. You can do this. I know you have it in you. I've seen you're work. You're terrible.

(wink!)

(INSTEAD OF A TITLE - CAN YOU APOLOGIZE FOR A PLAY BEFORE YOU EVEN WRITE IT?  I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD APOLOGIZE JUST FOR THINKING ABOUT THIS PLAY.)

                          BETTY confronts BOB.

                          BETTY

And just where do you think you’re going, Bob?

                          BOB

Well, Betty, as you know, I am your husband’s gay lover.  I have been for three years.

                          BETTY

But my husband, Bill, and I have only been married for two.

                          BOB

Clearly you were never able to give him what I can give him.

                          BETTY

A cock up the ass.

                          BOB

Not to mention a decent blow job.

                          BETTY

It’s all about the penis, isn’t it?

                          BOB

We shouldn’t forget a good hand job.  You’re apparently horrible at that as well.

                          BETTY

Penis, penis, penis.

                          BOB

Your husband loves my penis.

                          BETTY

Well, he could marry your penis.  It’s legal now.  Why doesn’t he?

                          BOB

He pities you.  He wonders what would happen if he ever left you.

                          BETTY

You tell him he can keep his pity.

                          BOB

Tell him yourself.  He’ll be here any minute.

                          BETTY

You arranged for us all to meet?

                          BOB

It’s time we had this out.

                          BETTY

Well, since it’s probably the last time I’ll see either of you, and good riddance, let me see it.

                          BOB

See what?

                          BETTY

Your magical gay penis.  Whip it out.  Let me see the wonder cock that ruined my marriage.

                          BOB

This schlong of mine means that your marriage was beyond ruining to begin with.  My dong means your marriage was nothing but a hopeless joke from the start.

                          BETTY

C’mon!  Let me see it then.

                          BOB

You sad little woman.

BOB gets out his penis.

BETTY whips out a carving knife and cuts off BOB’s penis.

BOB collapses to the floor, bleeding in agony.

BETTY examines the bloody penis in her hand.

                          BETTY

Hmm… doesn’t look like much.

                          BOB

You bitch!

                          BETTY

Who’s a hopeless joke now, bitch?  Have fun bleeding to death.

                          BOB

You’re not even going to call an ambulance.

                          BETTY

So they can reattach your marriage-killing abomination of a penis?  Not a chance.

                          BOB

At least get down here so I can give you a proper goodbye.

                          BETTY

Oh, you want to tell me how much you hate me to my face while you flop around on the floor in a pool of your own blood?

                          BOB

You know me well.

                          BETTY

Sure.  What the hell.  Your words can’t hurt me now.

BETTY leans down.

BOB grabs the knife and stabs BETTY repeatedly.

                          BOB

Die, cunt, die!

                          BETTY

Killed by a fag!

                          BOB

At least I’ll save Bill and his wonderful penis from you!

                          BETTY

Bill, my husband, deserves to be alone.  He deserves both of us dead.  He deserves to know he caused it all.

                          BOB

Now he can go out and find a man to make him happy, free of your arms around his neck.

                          BETTY

Or he can start again and get it right with a woman in the first place.

                          BOB

Nice knowing you, bitch.

                          BETTY

Rot in hell, cockless wonder fag!

BOB dies.

BILL enters.

                          BILL

My wife!  My lover!  What have you done!

                          BETTY

Bob, your gay lover, is dead.  I hacked off his penis, and then he stabbed me in the gut.

                          BILL

At least he didn’t damage your tiny black heart.

                          BETTY

You both cut my heart out of my chest years ago.

                          BILL

I can’t save my gay lover Bob, but I could still save you.

                          BETTY

Why would you want to?

                          BILL

Rest.  I’ll get you help.

                          BETTY

Bill, you do care.

                          BILL

I’m calling my friend Doctor Brad right now.

                          BETTY

Brad, the plastic surgeon.

                          BILL

The very one.  Hush.  Rest now.

                          BETTY passes out.

                          BILL (cont’d)

Oh Bob, my gay lover, forgive me.

I can’t save you.

But I can save your wonderful penis.

                          BILL grabs the penis.

                          BILL (cont’d)

Our gay surgeon friend Brad will be more than happy to attach your penis to my homicidal wife.

Then I can finally bring your penis into our marriage.

On the surface, we’ll be a normal couple.

But at night when we have sex, it will be you inside me again, not her.

She deserves to be the freak she always feared.

And your cock will live on!

                          THE END

                          I’m so sorry.

Writing Challenge – Seven Minutes In Heaven

Challenge: Write a sex scene. Something unexpected happens. This is a sex scene unlike any other. Action reveals character. What kinds will yours be? dripping? steamy? clammy? soft? clinical? innocent? stolen? sensual? wrong? right?

SAFE WORD

RICCO leads BILLY into the light.

                              RICCO

So, this is my place, such as it is.

                              BILLY takes RICCO’s hand.

                              RICCO leans in.

                              BILLY pulls back.

                              BILLY

What?  I don’t get the tour?

                              RICCO

Ah, the tour.  Well, from where we stand, here, in what I will call the living room, to your left you can see first the kitchen-like area, and then the bathroom.  To our right, the bedroom.  Thus endeth the tour.

                              BILLY

Swanky.

                              RICCO

Smart ass.

                              BILLY

So the tour ends in the bedroom.

                              RICCO

If you’d like it to.

                              BILLY

I think I would like that.

They begin to make out, rather enthusiastically.

                              BILLY pulls back, breathless.

                              BILLY (cont’d)

We should probably come up with a safe word.

                              RICCO

We should?

                              BILLY

Yeah.

                              RICCO

Are you planning to do something freaky you haven’t shared with me yet?

                              BILLY

No.  Just – things might get a little intense, I haven’t been with a guy in a while, so –

                              RICCO

Oh.  Sure.  I want you to feel comfortable.  No problem.

                              BILLY

So.  Safe word.

                              RICCO

Couldn’t either one of us just say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or ‘wait a minute’?

                              BILLY

Sometimes when my girlfriend says stop, she doesn’t mean stop.

                              Pause.

But they keep hands on each other.

Eyes on each other.

Nuzzling.

Throughout.

                              BILLY (cont’d)

I am not currently in your mouth so I can’t be sure but I’d be willing to bet you’re biting your tongue right now.

                              RICCO

I really shouldn’t say anything.

                              BILLY

And now you’re trying really hard not to smile.

                              RICCO

None of my business.

                              BILLY

Or laugh.

                              RICCO

It’s between you and her.

                              BILLY

Or roll your eyes or raise your eyebrows.  Dude.  Just say it.

                               RICCO

I should not be debating the gender politics between you and your girlfriend just before I’m about to do you.  Glass houses.

                              BILLY

Oh, so you’re about to do me?

                              RICCO

Or you could do me.

                              BILLY

So there’s doing to be done.

                              RICCO

I hope so.

                              BILLY

Don’t worry.  I think we’ll both get did before we’re done here.

                              RICCO

Good to know.

                              BILLY

It’s an open relationship.  Which she asked for.

                              RICCO

And for which I’m grateful.

                              BILLY

No one’s transgressing here.  Everyone has permission.

                              RICCO

So you’re OK with - ?

                              BILLY

She’s never been with anyone but me.  She wants to see what else is out there.  I get that.

                              RICCO

Meanwhile –

                              BILLY

It’s less threatening for her if I’m with guys.

                              RICCO

Oh.

                              BILLY

Besides, I don’t want any other women but her.

                              RICCO

Lucky girl.

                              BILLY

You say that and I haven’t even gotten your clothes off yet.

                              RICCO

It’s been a nice night.

                              BILLY

I wanted to go slow.  Ease into this.  It’s been

                              RICCO

Awhile

                              BILLY

Yeah.

                              RICCO

You’re awfully sanguine about this – her, other guys.

                              BILLY

We’ve been together six years.  I can wait a little longer.  Besides, I’m a giver.

                              RICCO

Oh really.

                              BILLY

I like to make sure my partner is well taken care of.  It’s part of what gets me off.

                              RICCO

So you figure, she’s going to shop around and realize that most other guys aren’t nearly as selfless and attentive.

                              BILLY

Yup.

                              RICCO

You gonna propose to her?

                              BILLY

Can we stop talking about my girlfriend?

                              RICCO

Absolutely.

                              BILLY

So.  Safe word.

                              RICCO

I have never done safe words.

                              BILLY

Seriously?

                              RICCO

Nope.

                              BILLY

Never really let go, huh?

                              RICCO

I wouldn’t say that.

                              BILLY

Never really been in danger?

                              RICCO

Danger doesn’t turn me on.

                              BILLY

Bullshit.  Danger turns everyone on.

                              RICCO

Safe word.  My mind is a complete blank.

                              BILLY

Yeah?

                              RICCO

You’re very distracting.

                              BILLY

I try.

How about ‘melancholy’?

                              RICCO

Oh my god you have no idea how perfect that word choice just made you right now.

                              BILLY

Melancholy?

                              RICCO

Melancholy.

                              BILLY

Excellent.

We needed to get that resolved.

Because I really want your cock in my mouth.

                              RICCO

Let me give you the tour.

Fumbling with clothes, they stumble off to the bedroom.

Review - Equus - Theatre Coup d’Etat- 5 stars

A couple of people had asked me in recent days, “Have you seen any really amazing theater that I just have to go out and see?”  The answer had been, unfortunately, “No.”  And then I saw Theatre Coup d’Etat’s production of Equus.  Now the answer can be, emphatically, “Yes.”  This show is brilliant, you really need to see it.

“With one particular horse, called Nugget, he embraces.”

I have to be honest, when I found out Theatre Coup d’Etat was going to stage Peter Shaffer’s drama, my first question was, “Why?”  Not that I don’t remember Equus as being a good solid play to read.  Not that it doesn’t have awards coming out of its ears - the Tony Award, the New York Drama Critics’ Circle Award, the Drama Desk Award, and the New York Outer Critics Award all for Best Play, just for starters.  It also inspired one of my all-time favorite satirical news articles about theater in The Onion.  (No, really, click that.  You're welcome.)  And of course it’s known, if you know nothing else about it, for having humans playing horses, and nudity.  But the play is also over 40 years old.  My last interaction with it was the film version starring Richard Burton as the psychologist and, Burton aside, it was kind of dull.  Does the story really have anything to say to us today? (I know, I know, people get offended if you ask that about Shakespeare, and his plays are about 400 years older than Shaffer’s.)  Turns out the friend who went with me is a big fan of the play, has read it several times.  He was nervous seeing it onstage wouldn’t live up to his expectations.  Thankfully, we were both proven wrong.  Extremely wrong.

“It asks questions that I have avoided all my professional life.”

Because Equus probably wasn’t meant to be translated to film.  And Equus isn’t really meant to simply be read.  Equus needs to be seen and heard, live in front of you.  It’s a uniquely theatrical experience.  Shaffer has crafted this story perfectly for the stage, taking full advantage of the immediacy it can offer, the connection between artists and spectators.  Coup d’Etat’s production, under the ballsy direction of James Napoleon Stone, grabs onto this script with both hands and shakes it until all its secrets come tumbling out.  The play may be set in 1970s England, but the subjects it wrestles with are things we all struggle with today.  The story is vividly alive.

“Worship as many as you can see, and more will appear.”

17-year-old Alan Strang (Kevin Fanshaw) has come into the court of Hester Soloman (Kelly Nelson), accused of blinding six horses with a metal spike to their eyes.  Hester brings Alan’s case to the best psychologist she knows, her friend Dr. Martin Dysart (Charles Numrich).  With the assistance of his caring (but no-nonsense) nurse (Meagan Kedrowski), Dysart tries to piece together what led Alan to commit such an act.  Alan’s parents Frank (Brian Joyce) and Dora Strang (Ellen Apel); Harry Dalton (Jim Ahrens), the owner of the stables where Alan worked; and Jill Mason (Lauren Diesch), Alan’s young co-worker in the stables, all hold pieces of the puzzle.  But to discover the reasons that Alan turned against the horses he seemed to love so much, Dysart needs to delve mostly deeply into the mind and passions of Alan himself.  The first and second act both begin with an image of Alan nuzzling against the neck of the primary horse he loves, named Nugget (Jeff Groff).  Understanding the depth and breadth of the love this horse and young man hold for one another, a love that goes as far as worship, is the key to unlocking Alan’s troubled psyche.

“If you knew God, doctor, you’d know more about the devil.”

Equus doesn’t work if Dysart or Alan don’t work.  Coup d’Etat hit the jackpot with Charles Numrich and Kevin Fanshaw.  Numrich is a marvel.  Dysart has a great number of speeches throughout the play, either to the audience or other characters onstage.  In lesser hands, these monologues might start to blend together or seem repetitive.  Numrich’s art is to mine each and every word and phrase and invest it with real personal meaning.  These are memorized lines but you can almost watch the character’s mind working, as if these thoughts were being revealed and articulated in the moment.

“At least I galloped.  When did you?”

While Dysart unpacks a life of the logic of the mind, Alan is unraveling, buffeted by the passions of his heart.  Fanshaw takes something that could be ridiculous or childish and makes it seem almost noble - a young man’s passion - both spiritual and sexual - channeled through an elaborate fantasy world of communing with horses at night.  An actor can’t be concerned with looking foolish in this situation.  They have to swing for the fences and really commit to the conceit at the center of Equus, or the thing’s just not going to live on stage.  The audience only takes it seriously if Alan takes it seriously.  And so, thanks to Fanshaw, we do.

“I see you.  I see you.  Always!  Everywhere!  Forever!”

Of course his non-speaking partners in this endeavor are equally key.  Groff as Nugget, and the other members of the ensemble taking on the roles of those ill-fated horses (Ahrens, Apel, Joyce, Kedrowski, and Nelson), create a kind of animal Greek chorus.  They chant, they don the outline of horse heads fashioned from wire.  Here again, if anyone worries about looking silly, the whole thing falls apart.  Because they commit, intensely, to this, the audience is carried along.  Groff’s horse self is all the more impressive because he plays an extremely human character elsewhere in the narrative who also holds a clue to Alan’s development.

“I shrank my own life.  No one can do it for you.”

Everyone here goes all out - Apel and Joyce as the parents, Diesch as Alan’s potential love interest, Ahrens as the stable owner, Nelson as the troubled judge, and Kedrowski as the nurse.  Any one of them might have been a stock character, or someone that didn’t make much of an impression.  But handed to this ensemble of actors, guided by this director, each and every one of these characters becomes a fully realized human being.  You feel like you could watch the story again just through their eyes and it would be equally compelling.

“Why?  Why Me?  Why - ultimately - Me?  Do you really imagine you can account for Me?”

The whole of Equus is a ritual - the masks, the movement, the sound, the use of the space.  Dysart and Alan each worship something very different, and each has their faith shaken.  It’s a battle of wills it seems only one of them can win, but the sensible choice also seems like the wrong choice.  The question of whether or not there are any winners at the end of this hangs tantalizingly in the air.  On the page, this borders on self-indulgent twaddle.  In practice, on a stage, it’s mesmerizing.  Just like any great play, it causes you to rethink things you thought you were sure about.  No faith is strong, after all, unless it’s tested.

“Professional menopause, everyone gets it sooner or later.”

I’ll admit my faith in the power and purpose of theater has been a little wobbly lately.  Bold productions like Equus help renew that faith in ways few other things can.  So thanks, Theatre Coup d’Etat.  The rest of you, go see Equus.  

5 Stars - Very Highly Recommended

(Photo courtesy of Theatre Coup d'Etat: Kevin Fanshaw as Alan Strang, Charles Numrich as Dr. Martin Dysart in Equus)

Writing Challenge - Light The Liar

Challenge: All too often lights and sound support a play rather than participate in the action of a play.  Write a scene where a light cue indicates that character is lying- maybe they figure it out? maybe the liar tries to hide it?

PINK LIGHT SPECIAL

                          ANNOUNCER

Tired of people lying about gay men and lesbians and just generally making the world unpleasant?  Try the Pink Light Special!

Enter your typical Westboro Baptist Church-style anti-gay protesters: BIGOT DAD, BIGOT MOM, and BIGOT TEEN GIRL.  They chant and wave their similarly worded signs (If you want to be nice, they don’t even have to be misspelled.)

                          BIGOT DAD

God Hates Fags!

BIGOT DAD is bathed in a bright pink light that dances.  He tries to wave it off.

                          ANNOUNCER

Every time they tell a lie, the pink light bursts forth around them so passersby know they can safely ignore that nonsense.  Plus, it’s a colorful light to brighten everyone’s day.

                          BIGOT MOM

Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve!

The pink light dances around BIGOT MOM, much to her unease.

                          BIGOT TEEN GIRL

Gay sex is an abomination before God and man!

The pink light gleefully spotlights BIGOT TEEN GIRL.

                          BIGOT TEEN GIRL (cont’d)

Daddy!  Mommy!  Make it stop!

                          BIGOT MOM

Stand tall in your truth, girl!

                          BIGOT DAD

It’s just the pink light of the devil trying to sow doubt in your mind!

                          ANNOUNCER

As an added bonus, there’s also the Rainbow Light Closet Detector!  Great for when you need to thin the herd in Congress after unfortunate brushes with the law.

SENATOR CLOSET CASE is trying to hold a press conference.

                          SENATOR CLOSET CASE

My record speaks for itself.  This arrest for solicitation in the men’s restroom at the airport is politically motivated.

                          No pink light.

                          ANNOUNCER

Well, he’s not lying.  Yet.

                          SENATOR CLOSET CASE

I’m a married man.

                          No pink light.

                          ANNOUNCER

Still not lying.  Yet.

                          SENATOR CLOSET CASE

I am not a homosexual!

The pink light dances like crazy all around the Senator’s podium/microphone.  In addition, a wild rainbow of color also gleefully taunts him.  The SENATOR tries to make his excuses.

                          SENATOR CLOSET CASE

I was minding my own business in that toilet stall.  I just have a wide stance, and I was picking up a piece of paper.

The lights go crazy.  The SENATOR scurries away, bemoaning -

                          SENATOR CLOSET CASE

I should have brought my wife to this press conference!

                          ANNOUNCER

Want to make your relatives a little less uncomfortable at holiday gatherings?  The Pink Light Special is good for that, too.

SHARON and ANGELA arrive for dinner with the family.

                          SHARON

Hi, everybody.  You remember my good friend, Angela?

ANGELA waves shyly as a warm pink light embraces the two of them.

                          SHARON

We have something to tell you.

The rainbow light pulses around them as SHARON and ANGELA take each other’s hand.

                          ANNOUNCER

Sometimes, it’s a good thing to shine a little light on people’s lies, so everyone can see the truth.  Order the Pink Light Special with Rainbow Light Closet Detector today.  The world will be a much brighter place once you do.

Writing Challenge - Confessional

Challenge: write a confessional for someone else. Share their secret, but code it as another person with another gender and another back story- then? Tell the world.

CENTAUR

                          ALICE

I had sex with a centaur once.  Well, more than once, but only the one night.

It was right after my husband kicked me out of the house, but before I met you.

I don’t blame him for kicking me out of the house.  He found me in bed with the neighbor’s wife which I’m sure was a bit of a shock.

I’d wager the neighbor wasn’t too pleased either, but at least my husband knew both of them were lesbians.  My own Sapphic tendencies were more of a surprise.  After all, we had two little boys of our own and I’m certain he thought we were both having an equal amount of fun when they were being conceived.

We got married too young.  Well, I did.  He was fine until he found me in bed with the lesbian from next door.  I didn’t know who I was yet.  Everyone seemed convinced that marriage was the next logical step after college on one’s journey to self-discovery and it seemed to be working well for at least half of them, so I figured, Bob’s nice enough.  He’s nice to me.  He’d be a good father.  A good provider.  I could probably figure out who I was if I had the safety of building a life with him.  I know that doesn’t sound romantic but it was the closest thing my brain and heart could process to romantic at the time.  Meeting you cracked my heart and my head open in ways I couldn’t imagine back in my supposedly heterosexual twenties.

It’s Bobby, Jr.’s birthday today.  Robert.  He likes to be called Robert.  He doesn’t mind the occasional slip if I call him Bobby now and again.  God help anyone who calls him Junior.  He’s 18.  An adult.  Almost as old as I was when I met his father.

I haven’t seen him in ten years.

His father has a right to be angry.  Bob raised him.  Robert can remember who I am, but I haven’t been his mother for a decade.  He’s not going to go against his father’s wishes.  I suppose he can now, but there’s college to pay for, he’s not really out on his own yet.  He’s at least trying.  The calls, the emails.  He got his own post office box at the package store so I can send him things and his father can’t rip them up or burn them before Robert gets home from school.

Little Jake.  Well, not so little Jake since the growth spurt.  He’s only 14 but he’s the tallest of anyone in the family.  At least that’s what the pictures on Robert’s facebook page would indicate.  Jake doesn’t really know me.  Robert tries to tell his little brother about me, to make me real, but –

Right, the centaur.

Just got me thinking.

Anyway, not a male centaur, obviously.  So no “hung like a horse” jokes.  And she wasn’t half-human, half-animal.  The gods and other mythical creatures disguise themselves so they can walk among us, she said.  Have sex with us mostly.  That was her thing anyway.

It was a motel in the middle of nowhere.  Our rooms were next to each other.  She saw me check in.  She waited.  She made sure I saw her.  She made sure I saw her leave the door open a crack.  I wasn’t looking for sex so much as someone to talk to.  She didn’t push.  She didn’t have to.  She just had to wait.  I couldn’t sleep alone.  Not that first night.

Maybe I was high, maybe she was high, maybe we both were high.  Centaur, right?  I mean that makes no sense.  I don’t remember drugs or even alcohol.  The sex was – like nothing before or since.  Not the best.  You’re the best.  Obviously.  She just came along when I needed her and then she was gone in the morning.

Centaur as a pickup line is one of the dumber Hail Marys in the playbook.  But I guess I needed to believe that this whole thing, this scorched earth campaign I’d just unleashed on my former domestic life, that it wasn’t the biggest mistake I’d every made since I was born.  I needed to believe that it wasn’t only the right thing to do, but that it was miraculous.  Otherwordly.  Predestined.  Impossible to resist.

Because losing my two boys.  Hell, Bob, too.  Losing those three men.  Just for sex.  If that was truly all I’d done, then I am the most selfish person imaginable.  I have to be more unique than that.  This decision has to be more consequential.  It can’t be some garden variety suburban soap opera.

Or I’m an idiot.

So I had sex with a centaur once.  That’s what she told me.  I choose to believe her.  Because what other choice do I have?