Sunday, November 13, 2016

Writing Challenge 2016 #12 - Play Within A Play


NWC #12- "Play within a play" DUE Nov 13th at 8am

I've had a lot of stages build "inside" the stage of the play. I'm currently writing a two person "pocket musical" version of Beowulf that has this element in it as well.
Theater inside theater is so meta!
Dude.
Yes.

*CHALLENGE-* Take either your #10 or #11 posting and have that be the play that is happening inside the play you write today.

Who is watching this? Kings and Queens? Inmates? Teens on a first date?
How does this play make a revelation happen for someone in today's play?
What action do they take?
Stab stab stab
Or, ya know... break all the rulz.




THAT'S MY FETUS! (Tech week!)

BETTY and BOB.

Their living room.

                          BOB
As you know, Betty, you and I have been married to each other for seven years.

                          BETTY
Yes, Bob, my husband.  I am aware of that.

STAGE MANAGER calls out over a loudspeaker.

                          STAGE MANAGER
Hold, please.

                          BETTY (actor)
And it was going so well.

                          BOB (actor)
Yes.  We were really on a roll.

                          BETTY (actor)
Two whole lines in.  The momentum!

                          STAGE MANAGER
OK, OK, you know the first cue takes forever.  Just let us get the settings right for the living room set and building all the other cues on top of it after this will be that much easier.

                          BOB (actor)
Hey, I'm getting paid.  I don't care.  I'll read a book.

                          BETTY (actor)
Wait?  You're getting paid.

                          BOB (actor)
I guess they're only paying the good actors this time.

                          BETTY (actor)
Ha ha.  We're all getting paid.

                          BOB (actor)
Yes, but are you being paid as much as I am?

                          BETTY (actor)
Patriarchy being what it is, probably not.

                          BOB (actor)
Want to compare?

                          BETTY (actor)
No.  I don't want to be depressed this early in tech.  It's already gonna be a long night.

                          BOB (actor)
Truer words were never spoken.

                          STAGE MANAGEMENT
We're nearly set, guys.  Thanks for your patience.

                          BETTY (actor)
Besides, if they were only paying the good actors, the only one getting paid would be fetus boy.

FETUS (actor) leans in.

                          FETUS (actor)
Yeah, well, Fetus Boy here covered in stage blood which is starting to congeal in uncomfortable places.

                          BETTY (actor)
Well, you're dead anyway, so it shouldn't bother you.

                          FETUS (actor)
Ha ha.  You're a laugh riot evil non-mommy.

                          STAGE MANAGER
OK, we're ready to go.  Pick up right where you left off.  Thanks.

BOB plays this line up for his tech week audience of collaborators.

                          BOB
Seven long years.

                          STAGE MANAGER
You're hilarious.  Keep going.

BETTY plays along.

                          BETTY
Wouldn't have seemed so long if they'd been good years, would they, Bob?

                          STAGE MANAGER
You want to go home before midnight, you'll keep it moving.

                          BOB
Yes, Betty, it's been tough.

                          BETTY
By tough, do you mean the abortion you've never forgiven me for?

                          BOB
Now, Betty, what did I tell you about ending a sentence in a preposition?

                          BETTY
I'm sorry, Grammar Nazi.  I meant, of course, the abortion for which you've never forgiven me.

                          BOB
It's not a choice, it's a child, Betty.

                          BETTY
Well, it wasn't your child, Bob, and if I'd let it live, probably even someone as stupid and selfish as you would have figured out the baby looks nothing like you.

                          BOB
Who would it look like, Betty?  Perhaps Pablo, our groundskeeper?

                          STAGE MANAGER
Hold, please.

                          BETTY (actor)
Really?

                          BOB (actor)
For what?

                          STAGE MANAGER
Pablo to the stage, please.  Pablo to the stage.

PABLO (actor) pokes his head in.

                          PABLO (actor)
Shirt or no shirt?

                          STAGE MANAGER
What do *you* think?

                          PABLO (actor)
No shirt it is.

                          STAGE MANAGER
Thank you.  I'm sorry.

                          PABLO (actor)
Hey, it's a paycheck.

PABLO has a spray bottle of water.  He mists his bare torso.

                          PABLO (actor)
Pays for my gym membership.

                          BETTY (actor)
I'd like to shake the hand of your personal trainer.

                          BOB (actor)
Me, too.

                          PABLO (actor)
Fake sweaty enough?

                          STAGE MANAGER
Yes, but keep the spray bottle nearby.  We may need to mist you up again while we reset the lights.

                          PABLO (actor)
Will do.

                          STAGE MANAGER
OK, can we start it back up on "Well, it wasn't your child, Bob..."?  Thanks.

                          BETTY
Well, it wasn't your child, Bob, and if I'd let it live, probably even someone as stupid and selfish as you would have figured out the baby looks nothing like you.

                          BOB
Who would it look like, Betty?  Perhaps Pablo, our groundskeeper?

Special light reveals PABLO, shirtless and glistening.

                          BETTY (actor)
Oh come on!

                          STAGE MANAGER
What?

                          BETTY (actor)
How is anybody supposed to concentrate on what we're saying  with him standing there glistening like that?

                          BOB (actor)
How am *I* supposed to concentrate on what we're saying with him standing there glistening like that?

                          PABLO (actor)
Thanks, dude.

                          BOB (actor)
No, thank *you*.

                          STAGE MANAGER
This is what the producers want.

                          BETTY (actor)
I am not touching that one.

                          BOB (actor)
I would gladly touch -

                          STAGE MANAGER
Guys!

                          BETTY (actor)
OK, OK.

                          STAGE MANAGER
Pick up from the Pablo reveal.

                          BETTY
You should know, Bob.  You slept with him, too.

                          BOB
Bisexuals are so confusing.

                          BETTY
You should know, Bob.  Why didn't you screw your secretary like any normal man?  Heck, I'd fuck her.  Oh wait, I did.  I borrowed one of the dildos you and Pablo were temporarily not shoving up your bungholes together and gave that minimum wage slave the ride of her life.

                          BOB
Her short life.

                          BETTY
Not as short as my baby's.

                          BOB
Why did my secretary kill herself?

Special light reveals SECRETARY, hanging from a self-made noose.

                          BETTY (actor)
Seriously?  I'm now getting upstaged by an aborted fetus, the hunky gardener, AND the suicidal secretary handing from the rafters?

The aborted FETUS pokes his head in.

                          FETUS (actor)
I haven't started to upstage you yet.  Technically.

                          STAGE MANAGER
Please don't encourage her.  We'll never see home again.

                          SECRETARY (actor)
Can we speed things along, please?  The harness that's keeping me from actually hanging myself is giving me a wedgie.

                          BOB (actor)
Wait a second.  When you say "we'll" never see home again, are you using the grand collective "we" or do you mean - ?

                          BETTY (actor)
Oh my god, you're banging fetus boy?!

                          PABLO (actor)
Man, you two must have been really engrossed in your lines.  You miss everything.

                          SECRETARY (actor)
Apparently even dead people like me are quicker on the uptake.

                          BOB (actor)
You're banging fetus boy?

                          STAGE MANAGER
Fetus boy's banging me actually but yeah.

                          BETTY (actor)
He's a child!

                          STAGE MANAGER
He's not an actual fetus.

                          BETTY (actor)
I'm aware of that, thank you.  I mean he's -

                          FETUS (actor)
I'm nineteen.

                          BETTY (actor)
Good for you, sweetie.

                          FETUS (actor)
I'm in a BFA actor training program.

                          BETTY (actor)
Still means you're barely legal, and he can't even get you drunk first.

                          FETUS (actor)
He doesn't need to get me drunk, trust me.  He can apply and remove my stage blood any day of the week.

                          PABLO (actor)
And he does.  Get a room, you two.

                          FETUS (actor)
Oh we will.  Trust me.

                          STAGE MANAGER
Just as soon as we get through tech, people.  C'mon.  Moist gardener, swingin' secretary, but the fetus hasn't even crawled out on stage yet.

                          BETTY (actor)
I feel like I should report you to someone.

                          FETUS (actor)
Please.  I pounced on him first.  He's hot.

                          BETTY (actor)
But.

                          FETUS (actor)
You didn't love me, Mommy.  You vacuumed me out and tossed me in the garbage.  Let someone else love me.

                          STAGE MANAGER
Can we *please* pick up from "Why did my secretary kill herself?"

                          SECRETARY (actor)
Please?

                          BOB
Why did my secretary kill herself?

                          BETTY
Aside from the fact she was working for you, you mean?

                          BOB
Yes, aside from that.

                          BETTY
She's a woman in America, Bob.  Do the math.

                          BOB
Misogyny killed my secretary?

                          BETTY
No.  Her Protestantism did.  Protestants are pussies.  They can't cope with the supernatural.

                          BOB
I love that TV show.

                          BETTY
Of course you do.  It features four attractive men who are all in love with each other and REALLY tortured about it.  But I meant the actual supernatural, Bob.

                          BOB
Oh, you mean like the fact that the spirit of your aborted fetus still haunts our house?

                          BETTY
Yes, Bob.  Exactly.

Betty's aborted FETUS starts dragging itself across the stage with the bloody stumps that would have become its arms and legs.

                          BOB
There is it now.  Hi, baby!

                          FETUS
Fuck off, Bob.  You're not my daddy.

                          BOB
I still love you.  All life is precious.

                          FETUS
Stuff it, you useless old fuck.  Go sodomize the gardener.

                          BOB
He's a groundskeeper.

                          FETUS
You still pay him more for servicing your shriveled dick that you do for trimming the hedges, so I don't think he much cares what you call him.  And I don't feel like reinforcing your sense of superiority by adopting your pretentious vocabulary, so, you know, eat me.

                          BOB
I wish I'd gotten a chance to know you.

                          FETUS
You'll have plenty of time.  I'll be haunting your ass the rest of your life.

                          BOB
I meant, really know you.  As a baby.

                          FETUS
Life begins at conception.  I am a baby.  Was a baby.  Will forever be a murdered baby dragging my bloody carcass around your house and ruining your hardwood floors.

                          BOB
It's what we deserve.

                          BETTY
You see, we can have a conversation with the spirit of an aborted fetus and not lose our minds.  We're Catholics.  We still believe in exorcism.  We expect the devil, the actual devil, not a fictional construct, to come to our front door and knock.  We see our entire lives as a struggle against a real enemy, actual evil in the flesh.  And of course we believe in saints and angels.  It's a pity the vast majority of decent churchgoing folk don't believe in things like ending poverty or hunger or healing the sick or visiting those in prison.  Things that, you know, might actuall;y help.  Keep us from being bored.  Fucking the help.

                          FETUS
Aborting fetuses.

                          BETTY
Exactly.  What if we actually did good instead of insisting we ARE good without any proof to back it up.

                          FETUS
I enjoyed driving your secretary insane, Bob.  Now she's in hell, with all the other suicides.  And me, and all the aborted fetuses.  And one day you, too, will join us, burning in the eternal flames.

                          BETTY
Your theology is troubling, dead baby.

                          FETUS
You should be troubled, you adulterous murdering bitch.

                          BETTY
Finally someone sees me for who I truly am.

                          FETUS
I have a name.

                          BETTY
What is it?

                          FETUS
Fuck you!  You'll never know.

                          BOB
That seems like an awfully long name.

                          FETUS
Now I know why you fucked the gardener and the secretary.

                          BOB
Groundskeeper and executive assistant.

                          FETUS
Fuck your vocabulary of privilege, non-daddy.

                          BETTY
Why will I never know your name, dead baby?

                          FETUS
Because God gave me my name.  And God will never speak to you again.

                          BETTY
But we'll be together again in hell.

                          FETUS
And I will make your life here on earth a living hell until then.

                          BETTY
I'm already married to Bob.  There's not much more you can do to me.

                          BOB tries to clean the floor.

                          BOB
Where does all this blood come from?  How do you keep bleeding?

                          FETUS
It's my blood, mixed with the blood of Christ, and all the Christian martyrs and saints, condemning you with the bright red stain of retribution and God's unforgiving justice.

                          STAGE MANAGER
America, ladies and gentlemen.
OK, let's go back and run it from the top...

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