SO, let's do a hat tip to the ol'
Deux ex Machina: an unexpected power or
event saving a seemingly hopeless situation, especially as a contrived plot
device in a play or novel.
CHALLENGE: Write the MOST hopeless situation
possible NOT in terms of plot but in terms of the entire history of the world
EVER... and then have some god-like figure save the day.
Bonus- Set it in a theater
Bonus- Have many meta levels
Bonus- DON'T have your protagonist be a male
and DON'T have your god-like figure be a female/black/latino because holy FUCK
is that what it always is these days. [As part of the Red Playwriting
Competition I read more bad plays/playwrights than you do, so trust me on
this.]
Bonus- Write in such a way that YOU, YES YOU
YOURSELF, feel connected to the protagonist AND grateful has hell to the
savior.
Example: A playwright about to drop out of
the Red Playwriting Challenge due to racist grandma, turkey coma, power outage,
snow tornado when suddenly what should appear byt a ghost wearing a Sexy Mark
Twain outfit stops time, provides internet/power, and takes 5 inches off your
waist-line.
(Author’s note: While I’m all about the deus ex machina
normally, the strange miracle of a new play that plops a new scene idea into my
head every morning is a bit hard to resist, so I’m just pushing through that to
see where I am at month’s end. I may yet
do a challenge on the day assigned, but today is not that day - )
TV
BOYFRIEND
The morning after the first morning after.
The long goodbye.
KEN and JAKE have made it to the door.
JAKE has KEN pressed against it, kissing him
goodbye.
KEN keeps valiantly trying to open the door.
JAKE playfully but insistently keeps the door shut.
The other side of that door is the real world, and
Jake isn’t ready to stop kissing yet.
Ken is back in the clothes he was wearing two days
ago when they met.
JAKE keeps trying to get his hands in them, under
them, around them.
They talk around and through the kisses.
KEN
I
have to go.
JAKE
(agreeing, but not stopping what he’s up
to)
Mmm-hmmm.
KEN
You
have training.
JAKE
Mmm-hmmm.
KEN
I
have – something boring but important – I’m sure of it.
JAKE
Mmm-hmmm.
KEN
You
have fed me breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and breakfast again.
We
have violated each other in rooms of this place where I didn’t think it was
physically possible.
JAKE
(laughing through this one)
Mmm-hmmm.
KEN
You
have my number. I have your number.
I
know where you live.
We
even know when we’re going to see each other again.
JAKE
12.
Long.
Hours.
From.
Now.
KEN
There’s
sickening but adorable, and sickening AND codependent, and I really want us to
stay on the right side of that line.
JAKE
Abso-fuckin’-lutely.
KEN
You
can’t miss me if I don’t go away.
JAKE starts making puppy noises.
KEN (cont’d)
Not.
Fair.
JAKE
(laughing through one last kiss and door
close)
Mmm-hmmm.
KEN
I
will see you very, very soon.
Go
do something physically reckless.
Defy
gravity.
Video
and send it to me if you want.
Bye.
JAKE
Bye.
Hey.
KEN
What?
JAKE
Thank
you.
KEN
No,
thank *you*.
KEN gives JAKE one last lightning fast peck on the
lips and makes his escape.
JAKE leans against the door, breathing in the last
of Ken.
JAKE turns to face the empty house.
His smile takes a long time to fade.
When it finally does, he gets out his phone.
He contemplates calling.
He knows he shouldn’t.
He puts the phone away.
He gets it out again.
He puts the phone away.
Just as he gets it out again, it startles him by
ringing.
He sees the name, he smiles.
He answers.
KEN appears in a separate pool of light.
KEN
I
deliberately forgot to tell you something before I left so I’d have an excuse. I’m setting a terrible example, I know.
JAKE
What’d
you forget to tell me?
KEN
I
lied. Well, I forgot. Something else. I actually did have my rehearsal copy of the
soldier play on me. So I left it on the
kitchen table for you.
JAKE finds it while they talk.
KEN (cont’d)
It’s
not a gift. It has all my notes. I need it back. Consider it a placeholder. I’ll bring you a clean copy when I see you
tonight. So, there. No more doubting I’m coming back, OK?
JAKE
Never
crossed my mind.
KEN
(knowing)
Uh
huh.
JAKE
I
have a little more confidence in my own charm and irresistibility than you give
me credit for, buddy.
KEN
Read
it backwards, a scene at a time. Remind
yourself you know it all turns out OK.
JAKE
Have
a good day at work. Don’t forget to be
creative.
KEN
Have
a good day at work. Don’t forget to come
back down to earth where the rest of us live.
And
speaking of where people live, my address is on the cover page of the script,
so now you know where I live, too.
JAKE
Ken. I –
JAKE can’t finish.
KEN
Yeah. You scare to fuck out of me, too.
Bye.
JAKE
Bye.
KEN’s light goes out.
JAKE is alone again.
He tries to focus on getting ready for the day.
Something nags at him.
He gets out the phone again, hits a number.
We think we know who he’s calling.
We’re wrong.
ROBIN appears in another pool of light.
ROBIN
Just
tell me you’re not in the hospital.
JAKE
I’m
gay.
ROBIN
OK,
that’s a new one.
JAKE
No,
I’m really –
ROBIN
Gay. Got it.
Thank God. I thought I was going
to have to drag it out of you.
JAKE
You
- ?
ROBIN
Knew? Uh, yeah.
Do you think I’m headless?
JAKE
Does
everyone else - ?
ROBIN
Relax,
little brother. It’s not obvious to the
entire world. I’ve just been watching
you closely your whole life, and I’m not stupid.
JAKE
Oh. So Mom and Dad - ?
ROBIN
Don’t
officially know, no.
I
can’t testify to what they might suspect.
We
should talk to them.
Sooner
rather than later.
JAKE
OK.
ROBIN
I
got your back.
JAKE
Thanks.
ROBIN
Can
I tell you I’m sorry about Billy now?
JAKE
Yeah.
ROBIN
He
was around a long time.
JAKE
Yeah.
ROBIN
That
must have hurt like a bitch.
JAKE
Yeah.
ROBIN
He
didn’t cheat on you, did he?
JAKE
No.
ROBIN
You
cheat on him?
JAKE
No!
ROBIN
OK,
OK, just eliminating the obvious.
JAKE
It’s
the closet thing.
ROBIN
Yeah. Figured.
Well,
you chipped away a little bit at that this morning. That’s a good thing, right?
JAKE
I
met a guy.
ROBIN
Well,
I should hope so. It’s been nine months.
JAKE
He’s
pretty great.
ROBIN
Well,
he’d have to be, wouldn’t he?
JAKE
Robin
–
JAKE can’t finish.
ROBIN
Oh
boy. Slow your roll, Jakey.
JAKE
It’s
been nine months.
ROBIN
But
you just met him, didn’t you?
JAKE
Yeah.
ROBIN
Let
it breathe.
Let
yourself breathe.
He’ll
still be great tomorrow.
JAKE
Tonight.
ROBIN
Oh
boy. Poor bastard doesn’t know what hit
him, does he?
JAKE
Prob’ly
not.
ROBIN
Thanks
for trusting me, Jake.
Call
me when you need to.
I
mean that.
I
was starting to worry about you.
JAKE
I
know. I’m sorry.
ROBIN
Don’t
be sorry, just call, fuckface.
No
excuses.
JAKE
Bye.
ROBIN
Bye.
ROBIN’s light goes out.
JAKE is alone.
He goes to the script on the kitchen table.
Flips through it.
Smiles when he sees the handwritten notes in the
margins.
Then sees the time, realizes he’s running late.
JAKE
Shit. Shit.
Shit.
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