BLUE COLLAR EYES

Jeff Reynolds

0117616

Act 1 – Drugs, Death, and Rebirth.

Scene 1: Theatre for my Generation

Milo sits at centre stage on a tall bar stool drinking a beer; there is a single spot light on him as he delivers his monologue. Young Milo is on stage, but off to one side, and in the dark.

Milo: I’m going to level with you. A good portion of my life is a lie. Now, I don’t see myself as a liar per say… I’m more of a storyteller. And if you’re telling a story, sometimes you gotta switch up the facts a little, throw in an exaggeration, mix around some of the time sequencing – because it’s not just about the event – it’s also about how you describe it. (pause) So I’m gonna tell a story, for all the people out there like me - people who enjoy solving the world’s problems over a case of beer; people who appreciate honesty more than tact; and above all, people who watch the Special Olympics because it’s funny, and not because it’s a triumph of the human spirit. (pause) What’s better than winning a gold medal at the Special Olympics? (pause) So this story is about a girl, because that’s what I’m thinking about most of the time. In fact, when I’m not thinking about sex, I’m thinking about the girls that I’m not having it with.

Young Milo is typing something on the laptop and laughing after each sentence he types. Milo walks over, stands behind him, and puts his free hand on Young Milo’s shoulder.

Milo: (points to Young Milo) This is me just before last summer. Actually, this is Dan, but he’s playing me. I’m using Dan because there is no other person that I’ve met who looks more like me, and is also willing to work for beer.

Young Milo: (reading what he has just wrote) Hello. My name is Milo. I'm 20 years old; in that according to a calendar year first contrived by a religion that I do not practice, I have inhabited this planet for 21 revolutions around an indifferent celestial body known as the sun. (takes a breath). My purpose for being here, while seemingly complicated at times, is more or less to spread my seed - thus allowing my genetic makeup to be passed down from generation to generation - insuring that I will live forever. I’m not entirely unattractive, in that everything is where it should be; however, most of my “goods” have been stretched out so that they will fit to proportion, my six foot five, two hundred and ten pound frame. I guess all I really want to know is… will you help me live forever?

Young Milo stops reading and reflects on what he has just written.

Young Milo: (half laugh) You are such a nerd.

The phone rings. Young Milo picks it up.

Young Milo: Hello? Penne! What’s going on buddy? (pause). Uh huh. (laughs). Ah, I told you she was a slut. Oh man, you should read this lava life dating profile I just filled out. (pause). Well no, I just thought it would be funny. (pause). Shut up. Dude, I know I could sleep with her. Didn’t I just tell you she’s a slut? She’ll sleep with anyone so long as they have a dick. (pause). Oh she did? I stand corrected. (pause). I don’t know man; I should be studying for exams (laughs). Yeah of course I’ll be there. Where should I meet you guys? (pause). Uh huh. Uh huh. I’m gonna bring some of the stash okay? (pause). No, I’ll just bring half. (pause). Alright. See you at 10:00.

Young Milo hangs up the phone, grabs a bag of weed, his cigarettes and his jacket and exits through the back of the stage as the lights fade to blue.

Scene 2: Disappointed Mothers

Numerous people walk out on stage from all exits with beer bottles, bongs, and other drug paraphernalia, and set up for the party. Milo moves toward the back corner of the stage and sits down with two of the ladies from the party (Bev and Elzira). There is light conversation coming from each of the small groups, but the one group that is front stage is loud enough so that the audience can overhear what they are saying, and so that their attention is directed toward them.

Penne: Did I ever tell you about the time I threw a naked chick off a cliff?

Blake: What? No. You threw a naked chick off of a cliff?

Penne: Yeah.

Blake: That’s a hell of a way to start off a story. I’m assuming there’s going to be a story.

Penne: Of course. You don’t just tell someone you threw a naked chick off a cliff and leave it without a context. I’m trying to hook you - make you wonder how in the fuck I got myself into a situation wherein throwing a female off a cliff was even an option.

Blake: (takes a drink) Well you succeeded. There is nothing in this world that could make me get up before I found out how this could have happened. So shoot. I’m all fuckin’ ears.

Penne: Alright, so last month, myself, my brother and a couple other guys were at this bar at Blue Mountain, right, we’re there on vacation. And we’re drinking, we’re having a few pints and shit like that and in walks about 20 American’s, like guys and girls, you know. I mean we didn’t know they were American’s right away right, cause you can’t tell. But, they had this look in their eyes like this was the first time they’d legally drank at a bar before.

Young Milo walks in through the back door. Penne notices him.

Penne: Free High Fives.

Young Milo gives him a high five.

Blake: Penne here was just telling us about an incident that happened last month at Blue Mountain.

Young Milo: (sitting down) Would this be the story of the flying D cup?

Blake: (to Penne) She had a D cup?

Young Milo: Oh yeah. (motions like he’s holding breasts). (quietly) Fuckin’ Huge. (pause). By all means Penne. You have the floor.

Penne: Anyway, these American guys that came in start getting a little loud, a little drunk, a little rambunctious, you know, start causin’ some shit. And one of them yells out – I swear to god – “Canadian Beer Sucks Man!” (pause). And just a hush… fell over the room.

Blake: Them’s fightin’ words!

Young Milo: (jokingly) Take it easy there Spaz.

Young Milo takes the weed out of his pocket, and rolls a joint with it.

Penne: (laughs). Yeah well we didn’t fight ‘em, but, uh, you know that was definitely a challenge, and, I mean it was time to like, either step up or shut up, right. So the four of us get up and walk over to their table, and we say to them, you know, politely, quite matter-of-factly, “Excuse me. (pause). We couldn’t help but overhear that you think, well, that you think our beer sucks. (pause) Now, the only reason you think that, is because our beer is stronger than yours, and you guys can’t handle your alcohol.”

Young Milo: And this dumbass looks up at Penne and says, “That’s not it at all. We could drink you guys under the table, no matter we drink.”

Blake: What an idiot! I guess he wasn’t blessed with the knowledge I have that you and your brother can finish a forty each in a night.

Penne: (agreeing) No he wasn’t. So, we made a bet with them. Well, not so much a bet… but a challenge. So, I said to them, “You pick what me and my buddies drink, and we’ll pick what you drink. And we’ll see who can drink who under the table.”

Blake: And did they accept your challenge?

Penne: You better believe it. So they’re getting us to drink pitchers of Bud – because according to them it’s “the strongest beer in the bar,” and we’re feeding them just some nasty shit, like, the 6.0% stuff, like Labatt Ice, and Wildcat Strong. (pause). And before we were even buzzing, we had three of maybe the ten guys at the table -- puking.

Blake: No… shit.

Penne: Seriously, one of the guys didn’t even make it to the bathroom. He puked on the girl at the bar stand. Like, on her. Like, right on her.

Blake: Well, Cheers to Canada! (holds up his glass). Where we proved yet again that our beer is better than American beer, by making those who drink it violently ill.

Everyone holds up their glass, except Young Milo, who holds up the joint.

Blake: But yeah I’m still waiting for this unmanned, flying naked chick.

Young Milo: Calm down buddy, she’s not ready to fly just yet.

Penne: Yeah… she’s still getting fuelled up. (pause) So, after that pathetic display, every single one of the guys in their group leaves. I mean even we were embarrassed beyond belief… for them. So they leave, and all that’s left at the bar is like the ten girls that they came in with – and us four guys. (laughs). So we start talking to them and we stay at the bar for another hour or two. And eventually, you know, they want to go home and check how the guys are doing, but get this - they don’t even know where they’re staying.

Blake: Ah fuck. Blue Mountain has tons of places where they could have been, eh?

Penne: Yeah well, fortunately my brother knows the resort pretty well, so after they kinda described what it looked like, he just said “Oh, you must be staying in, uh, you know, whatever it’s called.” (pause). So, like the gentlemanly Canadian’s that we are, we escorted them home.

Blake: Again, Cheers to Canada! (holds up his glass). Where we value and respect people from all countries… so long as they’re hot women.

Everyone holds up there glass again, except for Young Milo, who is now puffing away on the joint.

Young Milo: (right after holding in the smoke for an extended period of time). Fuckin’ Eh!

As Penne continues the story Young Milo begins to feel something is wrong. His heart is beating faster, and at first, he ignores the problem. However, he looks agitated.

Blake: (to Young Milo) Way to hold that one in there buddy.

Penne: For sure.

Blake: So what did the guys say when you walked in their hotel with their ladies.

Penne: Oh man, they were pissed, but you know, after the girls explained to them that if it wasn’t for us they wouldn’t have even found the place, they were a bit more hospitable.

Young Milo: A bunch of them weren’t (coughs) were already in bed recovering, (coughs) but you gotta give ‘em credit.

Blake: Why?

Penne: Cause they challenged us again.

Blake: Why?

Penne: Don’t ask. They didn’t fair well either. I mean, by now it’s like 4 in the morning, cause we didn’t even leave the bar ‘till last call. And these guys are still sick from before. So, we drink ‘em stupid again, and you know, by then we’re pretty much all tanked too.

Young Milo is still smoking and looking worse and worse.

Penne: (looks over at Young Milo) Dude, take ‘er easy there. You’re starting to look like shit.

Young Milo: Keep telling the story… Mom!

Penne: (laughs uneasily) Uh, so where was I?

Blake: When are all the naked chicks coming into play here?

Penne: Fuck man, have some patience. Anyway (pause) there was a girl…

Blake: Now we’re getting somewhere.

Penne: …that I was talking to from their group. And I don’t know if she made some kind of a pact with her friends, like, she had just broken up with her boyfriend or whatever. But she was bound and determined to have a one-night stand while she was away on vacation. You could just tell.

Young Milo’s face and left side of the body start to go numb, and all the colour drains from his face. He goes from agitation to panicked in a few short seconds.

Beat.

Penne: (looks over at Young Milo). Man, you look like shit. Go lie down or something.

Young Milo: (long pause before he replies) Yo dude, uh, uh, can you call an ambulance, uh, I think there’s something wrong with, uh…

Blake: Man, we’re not calling an ambulance just because you’re high. Just try and listen to Pasta Boy’s story and forget about it.

Young Milo: (grabs his arm) My left arm and my face are numb. I can’t feel my arm or my fuckin’ face. That’s not normal.

Penne: You’re probably just having a migraine or something. But, you know, Blake’s right. We can’t call an ambulance here. Like, there’s pot and coke and all kinds of shit in here. (pause). We’re getting to the good part of the story. Just try and keep your mind on something else. You wanna watch Headline Sports? We could watch Headline Sports or something?

Young Milo: (trying to calm himself, but still clearly freaked out) No man, I don’t wanna watch Headline Sports. Just, just, keep telling your story.

Penne: All right man. So I’m already really drunk right, and this girl asks me if I want to go outside and smoke a joint.

Penne is telling the story like someone who is telling a story to a small child. He is speaking very slowly and clearly, and is making sure that Young Milo is listening.

Penne: Anyway, we leave the rest of the people behind and go to the back yard of the neighbouring building. And it’s not even part of the resort, right, it’s like someone’s house. So we’re in this guy’s back yard, and right at the end of the property there’s a cliff, and at the bottom of the cliff there’s a ravine.

Young Milo stands up and motions to walk away.

Penne: What are you doing man?

Young Milo: I’m just going to the washroom to splash some water on my face or something.

Young Milo exists.

Beat.

Penne: Seriously guy, what the fuck are we gonna do about this? You know he’s just paranoid and overreacting like he always does. Man, if the cops bust in on this place right now everyone in here is so fucked.

Blake: Speaking of overreacting, calm down. Don’t worry about it man, I’ll just walk him home.

Penne: Are you sure?

Blake: Yeah man, I’ll go get him now. (stands up to leave). He just needs to get out of here. Everyone in here is just gonna freak him out, or he’ll freak them out. He just needs to walk it off. Get some air. (pause). Just make sure of one thing for me though.

Penne: What?

Blake: That you tell me the rest of that story when I get back.

Penne: (laughs) For sure buddy.

Blake goes to get Young Milo. As he is about to exit, Young Milo enters and they bump into each other.

Young Milo: (to Blake) I called the ambulance. Dude, I think I’m having a stroke or something.

Blake: Man, they can’t come here. If they come here and see –

Young Milo: – I told them I was down the street on the corner. I’ll just go by myself and wait for them there.

Blake: Nah, fuck that, I’ll come with you, but you’re not having a stroke.

Young Milo and Blake exit through the back, the lights dim to blue and everyone else exits, except for Milo, who walks to the front of the stage.

When Young Milo and Blake enter through the top stage door, the lights shine on them, and go black everywhere else. Milo remains on stage in the dark.

By now Young Milo is really freaking out. He thinks that he is about to die. Blake still thinks that Young Milo is not as bad off as he thinks he is.

Blake: You do really look like shit man, but it can’t be that bad. If you were having a stroke or a heart attack or something, you wouldn’t be walking right now.

Young Milo: Blake.

Blake: Yeah.

Young Milo: Can you do me a favour?

Blake: Uh. Yeah.

Young Milo: (slowly) Can you tell my mother -- that, that I’m sorry.

Young Milo takes a few staggered steps backwards and forwards and then starts to fall. Before he falls, the lights go black. They exit.

A spot light shines on Milo.

Milo: Tell my mother I’m sorry? Tell my mother I’m sorry? You gotta be kidding me. (pause). Look, I didn’t want to die, but when my time did come, I wanted to go out with a little bit of dignity, a little bit of class… a little bit of (dramatic pause) poetry. Now all my life I’ve seen war movies where either the hero, or his best friend die in some tragic battle. And of course, they can never just flat out die. Like bang, bullet to the brain, no more hero. They always gotta say something just before they’re about to expire. They’ll be lying there, in the dirt, and the blood of the battlefield, and they’ll be suffering, barely able to speak. And they’ll look up into their friend’s teary eyes and say, “Tell my wife that I love her.” (triumphantly) And everyone in the theatre is in tears! (pause). Tell my mother that I’m sorry? Jesus. (shakes his head). When war heroes die they leave behind loving wives. When potheads die the leave behind disappointed mothers.

Milo exits the stage. The lights go black.

Scene 3: She’d be Doable… if?

The lights turn back on as Milo and Johnny walk in from the back door. A trail of smoke follows them from offstage and it is apparent that they are high. There is a banner that hangs in the background that says “The Power of Working Together.” Milo is telling Johnny a story the end of a story when they walk on stage

Milo: So this is the biggest log he’s ever dropped in his entire life. It’s so long in fact, that by the time it hits the bottom of bowl it’s still in his ass.

Milo uses his arm to indicate what it might look like by dropping his right elbow on his left hand with his arm bent at a 90-degree angle.

Milo: So, instead of it dropping out nicely and just landing in the toilet water, it kind of falls forward like a tree being chopped down. (he straightens his arm) And when it fell it grazed his left nut. So when he went to wipe, not only did he have to wipe his ass… he had to wipe is left nut.

Johnny and Milo laugh hysterically. Milo walks to the front of the stage while Johnny continues to laugh.

Milo: (aside) Okay, so maybe I didn’t die. And maybe I did overreact, but can you blame me? I mean, there I was, the left side of my face as numb as if I’d just gone to the dentist and been shot full of Novocain, and just before I blacked out, it literally felt like part of my brain had burst, and whatever I have in there was pouring down the back of my throat.

Johnny: They don’t want to hear that man.

Milo: (to Johnny) But they have to – it advances the plot. (pause) So I blacked out, but I didn’t fall. I kinda caught myself, you know, did one of these (does a semi falling motion). And when I stood back up I felt fine – I felt, normal.

Johnny: Normal? You’ve never been normal.

Milo: Dude, this is supposed to be an aside, you know, where they can hear me, but you can’t.

Johnny: Man, you’re right there. How can I not hear you?

Milo: Just pretend for a second will you?

Johnny: (quietly) How ‘bout I pretend to shove this exact-o knife up your ass?

Milo: So there I am looking over at my buddy Blake, and he has this dumb look on his face, like, okay, what the hell is going on? (pause) But I didn’t have a clue how to answer him – all I could do was shrug my shoulders and say, “Uh, I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly want to stand here with a big bag of weed in my pocket, and just wait for the cops. So, uh, do you want to go grab a beer?”(pause) And then we left. (pause) That’s it, that’s the end of the story. I know it’s kinda anticlimactic, but sometimes the truth isn’t that interesting.

Johnny: So lie already.

Milo: Yeah, so after I came to the cops showed up, like the whole swat team and riot squad – guns drawn! They knew I was the biggest drug kingpin since Pablo Escobar, and they were all itchin’ to take me out. So I pulled out my Nine, (pulls out a gun from the back of his pants) cause I knew the only way I was going to get out of there was to go out shooting. Long story short, I killed all them pigs – then went home, and ate a bag of cheetos.

Johnny: Better.

Milo returns to the middle of the stage and starts moving the boxes with Johnny.

Johnny: Cheeto’s… you are a nerd.

Milo: I know. (pause) So how do you feel about the crop of new summer students working here this year?

Johnny: Fat. It’s ridiculous. You have to be related to someone that already works here to get a job here for the summer right?

Milo: Right.

Johnny: Well, there isn’t one looker amongst the female full time staff that works here – so what are the chances that the offspring of an ugly mom is going to be super hot?

Milo: I’d say slim to nil.

Johnny: Slim doesn’t even begin to describe a single one of them. I mean hello, I’ve never seen so many cankles in my life.

Milo: I think you’re over exaggerating a little. You mean to tell me there isn’t one chick in this whole company that you’d let go down.

Johnny: No no no, I’d let them all go down.

Milo: But you just got through saying that they’re all ugly?

Johnny: Hey man, it’s like walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls – just don’t look down.

Milo: (laughs) Seriously though, I saw this one lady going into the office area this morning, and she was absolutely smoking.

Johnny: Oh… you must mean Bev. (pause) Yeah, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eating crackers. She’s only thirty-nine though, so she wouldn’t have a daughter your age or anything. Come to think of it, I think she does have a daughter though, but she’s ten – so far too young to work here.

Milo: But not too young to sleep with eh?

Johnny: Hey buddy. In that race I’m the tortoise, and I just want to be there before the hare.

Milo: (laughs) If she’s old enough to crawl she’s already in the right position.

Johnny: (slightly disgusted) Oh man.

Milo: Too far? (pause) So where does Bev work then?

Johnny: In the front offices, but she does come back here to the ware house at least once or twice a day to pick up promo copies of books. She never says anything, but she’s got a smile that could warm your heart… and an ass that could make you cream your –

Beat.

Milo: Oh shit, there she is.

She walks by as the two of them stare at her ass.

Johnny: Oh my god. She would be so doable…

Milo: … if?

Johnny: If she was willing.

Bev looks around for a moment and then approaches Milo.

Bev: Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could show me where this book is?

Milo: (hesitates) Uh… oh yeah, sure. It’s, uh, right up there on the rack – shelf! It’s up there on the shelf… (embarrassed) I’ll go get it for you.

Bev: I’ll come with you.

They walk up the stairs.

Milo: So what do you need this children’s book for? Is it a promo copy or something?

Bev: Yep. It’s a promo copy for my daughter; she’s my favourite test subject. And I think she’s getting a little tired of the See Spot Run books.

Milo: How can you get bored of those? I still read ‘em.

Bev does a fake polite laugh. Milo is kicking himself for his obviously dumb joke until Bev bends over to pick up the book from the bottom shelf.

Milo: So how old is your daughter?

Bev: Eight.

Milo: That’s cute. (pause) So what do you do with her during the day – when you’re at work? Does your husband stay at home to watch her?

Bev: No no, when school’s on I don’t have to worry about it. And now that it’s summer I just send her to day camp.

Milo: Oh yeah, which one?

Bev: It’s this place called Green Acres.

Beat.

Milo: No way. I used to work there.

Bev: Really?

Milo: Yeah, before I went away to University. I’d still be working there if they paid slightly better.

Bev starts walking really close to him.

Bev: That’s quite an amazing coincidence.

Milo: Uh, what are you doing?

Bev: I have to this form before I take a book out.

Milo: Oh, I thought you were making a move on me. (laughs).

Bev: Well yeah, that too. (pause) Say, what are you doing Friday night?

Milo: (baffled) Uh, nothing. Why do you ask?

Bev: Well, my husband is going to be out of town (pause) and I was wondering if (pause) if you’d like to, um, (pause) come over and baby-sit my daughter while I go out with my sister.

Milo: (aside) You know what? I really though she was going to ask me out on a date or something. (pause) But whatever, I wasn’t going to be doing anything anyway. I’m such a nerd.

Scene 4: The Fantasy

Milo is sitting on the cardboard box couch watching TV and flipping through the channels.

Milo: When I’m not overly stressed or overtired, I’ll often have these great daydreams before I go to bed. When I was younger, I’d fantasize about backstopping the Leafs to the Stanley Cup, or some other variation of what adolescence think of as the ultimate victory. Of course, once you reach the age of thirteen or so, your daydreams stop involving sports and start involving a familiar hand motion. (pause) When Bev initially invited me over tonight, I though that I would finally be living out the fantasy popularized by movies like American Pie.. And that fantasy is, of course, nailing a cougar. A cougar, for those of you in the audience that don’t want to sleep with Catherine Zeta Jones, is a woman over 30. Well, age isn’t that important… but you get the idea – it’s the experience – the thought that she can show you a thing or two that your fresh-out-of-high-school girlfriend maybe can’t. (pause) So here I am, sitting in the living room of the most attractive real woman I have seen – and I’m babysitting her kid. And you know what, that’s as close to the fantasy as I’ll ever get. I mean, I’m just not the kinda guy who could ever really get past this stage. I’m not that 20 year old guy that a sexually repressed woman is going to “take advantage of” in an attempt to recapture her youth. I’m just the 20-year-old guy who she feels is “responsible” enough to baby-sit her kid while she goes out to the bar and tries to pick up that other guy. (pause) And you know what, it doesn’t even matter that much, because, who needs the daydreams or the fantasies when you’ve got Late Night Showcase.

Bev enters through the back. She is carrying a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses.

Bev: What’s cookin’ good lookin’?

Milo: Uh, hey, I didn’t expect to see you home so soon. How was the girls night out?

Bev stumbles as she enters the room and spills some of the wine.

Milo: I was going to ask you if you were out long enough to get drunk, but I guess you just answered my question.

Bev: No no, I’m just a big klutz. What time is it anyway?

Milo: Eleven o’clock.

Bev: Yeah, that’s what I figured.

Milo: How long were you guys out at the bar? Did you even make it there?

Bev: We were there, but we weren’t actually there – you know what I mean?

Milo: Uh… No, not really.

Bev: Well, dinner was fine; we made it through the meal with no problems, but as soon as we left to go dancing my sister started getting all depressed.

Milo: About what?

Bev: Oh, her boyfriend. He’s an asshole. I tell her all the time to find a nice guy, but she just won’t leave him. All she does is complain about him – usually to me. I’m on the phone with her honestly, like three hours a night, and that’s all we talk about. Tonight was supposed to be a fun relaxing night, where we both just forgot about all the bad stuff in our lives, and just had a good time. So, after an hour or so of listening to her bitch, I told her that we should just call it a night. The bar wasn’t exactly what I expected anyway.

Milo: That sucks.

Bev: Yeah, but what can you do? (pause) So what do I owe you?

Milo: Don’t worry about it. You were only gone for a few hours, and I’d hate to make you pay me if you had such a shitty night.

Bev: Well, at least take a twenty. Go buy your friends a pitcher or something. What are your plans for the rest of the night anyway?

Milo: I’m probably going to go meet a buddy of mine at this bar slash club downtown.

Bev: Oh yeah, which one?

Milo: It’s this place called Moonshine. It’s pretty shitty though; all it is is a meat market.

Bev: Well, make sure you, uh, if you bring it out that you wrap it up.

Milo: (slightly embarrassed) Uh, (coughs), uh, I’m not looking to pick up.

Bev: Why not?

Milo: I dunno, I guess that’s just not my thing.

Bev: You don’t like girls?

Milo: NO. That’s not what I meant. I like girls a lot. Yep, I love me some girls. I just mean one night stands. I just can’t do that kinda thing anymore.

Bev: Anymore? A young guy like yourself? Surly you haven’t matured past the point of having a little innocent fun?

Milo: Uh, I guess certain events made me take sex a little more seriously than some.

Bev: What did you knock a girl up or something?

Milo: Well…

Bev: Oh my God you did.

Milo: Um… yeah. My first real girlfriend - she had a miscarriage.

Bev: That’s awful. I’m so sorry.

Milo: Oh, don’t worry about it. It really didn’t affect me much at the time.

Bev: Well yeah, you were probably in shock.

Milo: Maybe. I only know that it had any sort of affect on me when I approach girls that I’m interested in. Rather than thinking about trying to talk my way into a position where in a hot girl might actually consider the remote possibility of maybe thinking about sleeping with me; I’m thinking about the repercussions of that outside chance that maybe she will – you follow me?

Bev: I knew what you meant before you explained it, but now I’m not so sure.

Milo: Besides, I probably couldn’t score with a hot girl if I tried.

Bev: And why, pray tell, is that?

Milo: Girls my age want the bad boy, somebody more exciting. I’m just a nice guy, and a funny looking one at that. I’m funny, but yeah – funny looking.

Bev: That’s not true at all.

Milo: You mean I’m not funny looking?

Bev: No, I mean girls don’t necessarily want the bad boy; we just want something different. 99% of the time we hear the same thing day in day out from every guy we talk to – well, the straight guys at least. But you cant really pigeon hole every girl into wanting something that specific. Truth be told, we don’t really even know what we want, we just know what we don’t.

Milo: Well, either way you look at it, the dicks always end up with the hottest girls.

Bev: Not true.

Milo: Is your sister hot?

Bev: Yes, she’s beautiful.

Milo: And she’s dating a dick.

Bev: But she shouldn’t be.

Milo: But she is.

Beat.

Milo: So what bar did you end up going to?

Bev: The Digs.

Milo: That’s a club. When you told me you were going out dancing I though you meant, you know, like slow dancing. Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennet… that kinda shit.

Bev: Well I did, but I think my sister wanted to help me recapture my youth or something, and when she saw I wasn’t into doing that she got even more depressed. That’s when we left.

Milo: Who were you going to dance with anyway – some random guy? Single people don’t slow dance. Except when they’re in grade five – slow dancing back then was like getting to first base.

Bev: Shut up. I like to dance, but my husband hates it. He sucks at it anyway. You know, I would have settled for slow dancing with my sister. But the music sucked and I have the sneaking suspicion that the other people at the bar would have looked at us funny.

Milo: Yeah, and the guys would have been fantasizing about you making out.

Bev: Seriously though, is it too much to ask for one slow dance, with no one around to make fun of you, to a song that isn’t sung by a person who’s been shot 9 times?

Beat.

Milo makes a break for the door.

Milo: Wait here for a second.

Bev: Where are you going?

Milo: I’ve got the perfect song for you.

Milo runs to the car and then back.

Bev: Look at you. So you mean to tell me that you have beautiful soulful slow music rocking on the cd’s that you keep in your car.

Milo: Well, just this one. I came across it when I was looking for remakes of Milo Dylan songs, you know, like Hendrix doing All Along the Watchtower. Anyway, that’s when I found this song.

Milo turns on the stereo and the song I Shall be Released by Nina Simone starts to play.

Bev: Oh my God. I love Nina Simone.

Milo: May I have this dance?

Bev: But of course. (pause) So how does a romantic guy like you not have a girlfriend?

Milo: Who says I don’t?

Bev: Well, it’s a Friday night, and you’re babysitting. I guess I just assumed. So do you have a girlfriend?

Milo: Oh fuck no. Would I be babysitting on a Friday night if I did?

Bev: (laughs) So why don’t you?

Milo: I guess, uh, contrary to my confident, muscular exterior – on the inside I’m just a skinny, geeky guy, with confidence issues, who either says all the wrong things; or – more often than not – never says anything at all. I may be a romantic at heart, but it’s not coursing through my veins.

Bev: You just seem like such a nice guy.

Milo: I am a nice guy. But nice guys play the role of the wingman, or the shoulder to cry on for girls dating guys who just want to get laid.

Bev: And you don’t want to get laid?

Milo: Don’t get me wrong. I love sex as much as the next man, but when I roll over and look at the girl I slept with the morning after, I want to see the kind of girl that I’d like to make breakfast for, and not someone who I’d be making up excuses to to get the hell out of there.

Bev: My husband is a lot like that. I mean we’ve been married for more than ten years, so it’s not like I expect him to be making me breakfast in bed, or doing all those romantic things that he did when we first met. Actually, he never really did anything that romantic anyway. I guess he’s just uncomfortable with that so-called mushy stuff. But I mean, everyday now he has some important project that needs his immediate attention.

Milo: What does he do?

Bev: He’s a sales assistant. You know, he’s always away on business, and when he’s home he’s stressed about everything. Like, little things. He just can’t relax. As far as I’m concerned the weekdays are for work, Saturdays are for play, and Sundays are for recovery - lying in bed all day and reading a good book. (pause). Why does he always want to leave the second he gets home?

Milo: I don’t know. If I were lying next to a beautiful girl any day of the week, I probably wouldn’t ever want to get up.

Bev: Your heart’s beating really strong.

Bev and Milo kiss, and slowly make their way to the back door of the stage. The lights dim.

Scene 5: The Theory

Johnny and Milo are at centre stage when the lights turn back on. It is evident from the look on Johnny’s face that Milo has just told him the story of his Friday night.

Johnny: Like hello.

Milo: Should I give you a minute?

Johnny: I think there are commandments against that.

Milo: Probably a couple.

Johnny takes a moment to compose himself.

Milo: In all honesty, I don’t understand it myself. I mean, one second we’re talking about God knows what, and then the next second we’re in her room and articles of clothing are coming off.

Johnny: Lost in the moment I suppose.

Milo: I don’t even think it was though. I mean, surface, face value, I totally agree, but the way things were the next morning were completely not what you’d expect from a lost in the moment situation.

Johnny: How so?

Milo: Well, I felt incredibly awkward. She’s married. What the fuck did I do? You know, that’s what was going through my head. But she’s making me breakfast and making small talk. I swear to God, I might as well have been her husband sitting there.

Johnny: Yeah, you would think that she would be throwing you out of the house and destroying evidence. Scanning the place for stray pubes or something, throwing blankets in the washing machine – or the back yard incinerator.

Milo: Okay… don’t tell anyone else about this. (pause). But she told me flat out that there was a moment when she was standing at the bus stop, a month before she had even met me, that she realized that I was the man of her dreams.

Johnny: Do you have any kind of explanation for why she would say that?

Milo: None whatsoever.

Johnny: Can I enlighten you with my theory?

Milo: Of course.

Johnny: Okay, well first, let me inform you that this is actually something that I believe.

Milo: Well, why would you say it if you didn’t believe it?

Johnny: No no, I’m only giving you this disclaimer cause I know that you’re not going to believe what I’m going to say. And I just wanted to let you know that although this is 100% true, you’re probably just not going to see it that way.

Milo: Whatever man, I love your crazy theories.

Johnny: This one’s a good one too. So yeah, have you ever heard the theory that God is not an individual, but rather, like, a corporation.

Milo: Can’t say that I have.

Johnny: Well, certain events that have happened in my life have shown me that this is absolutely true. God isn’t this infallible entity that created the heavens and the universe himself – all those stories came about because people like to exaggerate for the purposes of story telling. No one wants to hear that the world we live in was just created by some company – they want some excitement.

Milo: I agree with that.

Johnny: So yeah, in pursuit of the best story, the facts all got mixed up and God was glamorized – made to wear a white suit, with a big flowing beard – omnipotence – gotta get me some of that. Either way, the way that it really is is a little different. God is actually an acronym for the name of the company – Global Organism Development Inc.

Milo: That’s so stupid it’s clever.

Johnny: Shut up, I didn’t come up with it. (pause) Either way. The biggest misconception is that God is just one guy – but that’s not the case at all. It’s just like any other business. You’ve got your president and CEO, and your VP’s and your managers… all the way down to your working shlubs.

Milo: I’m not really following you here. How can this corporation create human beings?

Johnny: I don’t know. It’s a complicated procedure. How would just one God do it?

Milo: But I don’t believe in God.

Johnny: Okay, uh, well, how do we publish all of these books that we’re shipping out?

Milo: I don’t know. It’s a complicated procedure.

Johnny: Damn right. Just cause you don’t know how they do it doesn’t mean that they don’t. In fact, I’m sure there isn’t one person at God that could tell you how they do everything that they do. That’s why you’ve got people that specialize in certain things. Like there’s just tons of departments. You know, like trees, birds, weather, dolphins, ah. Stuff like that. (pause) So, their goal is to make this perfect universe, or at the very least, as perfect as they can – and our imperfections – and the imperfections in humanity are merely a reflection of the imperfections in them.

Milo: Seriously, that is a pretty cool theory. And I’m sure it must seem very real to you when you’re high on shrooms. But how does this have anything to do with Bev thinking I’m the man of her dreams.

Johnny: I’m getting there. Patience. A good story doesn’t come in pill form. (pause). Where was I?

Milo: Ah… imperfections.

As Johnny is discussing what happens at God, Young Milo mimes out the actions that Johnny describes. He is on the stage located above the main stage, and there is an easel for him to draw on.

Johnny: Yeah. So, one of the jobs at God is that of like a designer. As with everything, you gotta start off with a blue print, or an outline of what you’re going to be doing. So, some artist, who looks a lot like you, (he points up to where Young Milo is sitting on the upper stage) sat down one day and started to draw up a blue print for the great Milo. And on this blue print is everything about you. Not what you’re going to do in your life, but the way you react to certain situations, your looks, your likes and dislikes, the way you walk, the way you make love, the way you constantly touch your nose when you’re trying to look casual.

Milo: Do I do that?

Johnny: Like hello. But anyway, so this guy draws you – he creates you. Then he probably sends a copy of the blue print down to the shop. And they do what they need to do to get you in actual human form. Lots of people at God just working together to get you out in the real world – with all their other creations. And they’re anxious to see you succeed, do well, live a full life.

Milo: And they did a fine job if I do say so myself.

Johnny: Quite the opposite actually. They fucked up. I don’t know what it was, but, there was something about you, something about your original blue prints that just made you not quite good enough to live past your twenty third birthday.

Milo: I’m 23 now buddy.

Johnny: I know, but the thing is, you should have died.

Milo: What? Why?

Johnny: Don’t ask me man. I like you, but you’re supposed to be dead.

Milo: And how do you know that?

Johnny: It doesn’t matter. I just do. You see, when you had that unfortunate incident with the weed, you were supposed to die. What happened was, the artist who created you was up in his office, working away on his next creation – this beautiful girl named Sandy – and he got a call from his boss. I don’t know exactly what was said, but the gist of it was that you were going to have an unfortunate incident with marijuana and because of that, you were going to cease to exist. So, this guy’s boss told him to get your blue print out of his filing cabinet, and to toss it in the garbage. So he hangs up the phone, pulls out your chart from his filing cabinet – and takes a long hard look at you. Then he choked back a tear and tossed you. (pause). But here’s where the shit got fucked up.

Milo: Dude, it’s already fucked up.

Johnny: I know. Either way, when he went to throw you in the garbage, he missed.

Milo: Missed?

Johnny: You didn’t end up dying like you were supposed to, because when he went to throw your blue print in the trash, he missed. Just, missed the target… And somehow your blue print fell down from that celestial world, to the real world.

Milo: How do you come up with this stuff?

Bev walks out on the stage behind them and begins to mime out what Johnny is saying along with Young Milo.

Johnny: I’m not coming up with it. I just know that it’s true. I’m just telling you what happened. (pause) So anyway, young Beverly found herself at a bus stop the other day, standing there, thinking about her sisters problems, her own problems, and how her life is good, but could probably be better… and then it hit her.

Milo: What did?

Johnny: Your blue print. Not in the sense that it just fell and hit her on the head…

Young Milo drops a crumpled up piece of paper down onto Bev.

… but she got the idea. (pause) All of a sudden, this more or less happy woman, found herself dreaming while standing there at the bus stop, about all the things that make up you. She could see the way you looked, the way you act, the way you think, and it was transcendent. She took it as a sign. A sign that you are everything she’s ever wanted in a man. Don’t ask me why she took it that way – cause God knows I would have seen it as something completely different. Either way, because of what happened, there’s a woman out there that is unreasonably in love with a dead man.

Milo: (sarcastically) That is probably the craziest thing I’ve heard in my entire life. So, uh, enlighten me here great prophet, what should I do? Ride the wave of my second chance at life and keep having sex with this beautiful older woman?

Johnny: I’m not going to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but you’ve got to remember… You’re supposed to be dead. And God may not be infallible, but he’s a lot smarter than you – and sooner or later, they’re going to realize the horrible mistake they’ve made, and they’re gonna do what needs to be done to rectify the situation.

Milo: Well, if I’m going to die soon, I better go out with a bang.

Johnny: So, I take it you’re going to call Bev tonight then eh?

Milo: Ha ha… No. (pause) I’m supposed to meet a few of my friends at the Firkin tonight. Say, uh, do you want to come out?

Johnny: What? With you and your buddies?

Milo: Yeah, they’re all goodfellas. I’m sure you’d get along with them.

Johnny: Sure. I’m taking the rest of the week off anyway, so I can’t think of a good reason not to.

Milo: The rest of the week? It’s Monday.

Johnny: Hey man, I’ve made enough money for a case of beer and a pack of smokes. I’m good till next week.

Milo: Wanna go out for a joint?

Johnny: That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.

Johnny and Milo exit toward the back of the stage.

Johnny: Hey, how do you make a dead baby float?

Milo: I don’t know. How?

Johnny: Take your foot off its head.

They exit.

Act 2 – Dating, Death, and, uh, That’s it.

Scene 1: One Stories Ending, is Another One’s Beginning

Milo, Johnny, and Blake are sitting at a round table in the middle of the stage, covered with beer bottles and shot glasses. There is a fair amount of activity going on in the back ground, with people walking around, drinking and having conversations. Milo is finishing off the story that Penne started in scene 2.

Milo: So Penne is absolutely hammered by this point. I mean, he’s beaten these Yankee’s in two separate drinking competitions, and it must be getting close to four in the morning at this point. And this girl who he’d been chatting up the whole night, suggests that the two of them should go outside and smoke a joint. (pause) So they leave the resort hotel and make they’re way to this guy’s backyard. And now, when I think of a backyard, you know, I think of, three fences and some grass right. Well this yard was a little different needless to say. There was a line of trees on either side, and at the end of his property was this cliff. Like the cliff was basically a concrete wall that dropped down close to twenty-five feet, and at the bottom of the cliff was a ravine, with all sorts of trees and thick underbrush and shit. So they make there way to the end of this guys backyard, and they’re sitting on the wall with their legs hanging over the edge, and they start smoking the joint. And just as they’re about to finish the joint, Penne delivers possibly the greatest pickup line I’ve ever heard in my life.

Blake: What did he say?

Milo: Well, he looked up at her with his glazed over, reddish eyes and said, (in a drunken voice) “Hey, I’ve got a condom in my pocket.”

Johnny: (laughs) Oh shit. Did she slap him?

Milo: No. (laughs) They just started fuckin.

Johnny: Like hello, the man is living my dream.

Milo: Oh fuck yeah - every man’s dream. So there he is, in some guys backyard with his pants around his ankles, her completely naked, just going town on her. And he is just shitfaced. So he’s plowin’ this broad like there’s no tomorrow, you know, both of them standing up, with her bent over (pause) and all of a sudden – his foot slips.

Blake and Johnny: No!

Milo: (long pause) But he catches his balance. (pause) And goes right back to fuckin’. Now, you gotta remember, he’s not exactly in the right state of mind here. I mean most guys, won’t fuck a girl they’ve just met.

Johnny: Are you sure about that?

Milo: Okay okay, (pause) but most guys won’t fuck a girl in someone’s backyard.

Johnny makes some sort of disagreeing motion

Milo: Okay, but most guys won’t fuck a girl right next to a cliff. And if by chance they were in that situation, most guys would probably shimmy over a little after such a close call. But not Penne – no, Penne just kept right on fuckin’. And then he slipped again…

Blake: God I love that dumbass.

Milo: No word of lie. (pause) When he came to, he was at the bottom of cliff. And of course, he’s in shock; he doesn’t really know what just happened. Like, he told me that he thought he’d been knocked out, and that he’d been down there for hours… but when he looked up toward the stars, he saw the heavenly vision of a beautiful woman, flying naked across the night’s sky.

Johnny: That’s almost poetic.

Milo: Oh for sure. I can’t tell you how many dreams I’ve had about naked women just flying around for no apparent reason. But they’re never flying because I yanked them over the edge of a cliff when I was falling. And the women in my dreams always seem to land gracefully. She didn’t. The ground she landed on wasn’t flat right, and she just kept rolling, and rolling, and rolling… and then she hit a tree. (laughing). And he’s thinking, “Oh my god she’s dead! They’re not gonna believe my story. They’re going to think I raped her and then threw her off the cliff when I couldn’t get it up.”

In the process of telling the story, Milo attracts the attention of a younger looking girl named Elzira who had been sitting at the bar. She seems to be laughing during the story and when Milo gets to the end, she yells out to him from her seat at the bar.

Elzira: Lindsay Anton.

Milo: What the fuck? (turns around to see who was talking) What did you just say?

Elzira: Lindsay Anton.

Blake: (to Milo) Who the fuck is Lindsay Anton?

Milo: The flying naked girl.

Blake: You’re shittin’ me.

Milo: How do you know that name?

Elzira: I was her chiropractor.

Milo: (laughing) What?

Elzira: (walking over to their table) I was doing my apprenticeship at a clinic in Detroit this summer and a girl by the name of Lindsay Anton came in complaining of back spasms.

Milo: You’re kidding right?

Elzira: That’s not something you just make up. I mean, it’s not really even funny.

Blake: So what, she told you that she hurt her back when she was thrown off a cliff by a drunk Canadian who was splitting her clam?

Elzira: Well no. She told me she fell down a flight of stairs when she went on vacation to Blue Mountain. And I knew that she went there with a bunch of her friends who had won a trip on a radio call in show. (pause) Plus, she strikes me as the kind of girl who would have sex with a stranger next to a cliff without wearing protection.

Johnny: Didn’t you say he was wearing a dome?

Elzira: I meant more along the lines of a rope harness.

Milo seems to be the only one at the table who gets the joke.

Milo: (laughing) I’m Milo.

Elizra: Elzira

They shake hands.

Milo: Care to join us?

Elzira: Well, I was having a wonderful time being hit on by that old man at the bar who told me I remind him of his granddaughter – but sure – gotta share the love I suppose.

Milo: Awesome.

She sits down next to Milo.

Milo: So, Elzira was it?

Elzira: Yeah.

Milo: I’m sorry, I have a tendency to forget names seconds after I hear them, and I can’t say that I’ve ever even heard the name Elzira before.

Elzira: Not a problem. I guarantee I’ll be calling you Otis before the end of the night. And who are your striking friends here?

Milo: Oh, sorry. This is my buddy Blake, and this pile of strung out glory is Johnny. (pause) So, what were you doing sitting up at the bar by yourself then?

Elzira: My boyfriends the bartender.

Milo: Sorry, I guess what you said before made me assume you were here by yourself.

Elzira: Man, do you start off every sentence with “sorry?”

Milo: (pretending like he didn’t hear her) I’m sorry? (pause) Yeah, I do. It’s a defence mechanism that my Dad came up with in the 70’s around the start of the whole women’s lib thing. If you say sorry first, whatever you say afterward seems that much more reasonable.

Elzira: That’s such a load of BS.

Milo: Sorry. But it’s true.

Elzira: (laughing) Hmm… you make a valid circumstantial point good sir.

Milo: How is it circumstantial?

Elzira: Well, in this particular circumstance – in a bar – surrounded by your friends… what you said is funny. If you said it at a feminist march you’d likely get castrated.

Blake: Then he’d be like every other woman there.

Elzira: How do you figure?

Blake: Well, he’d have no penis and he’d love women.

Elzira: Funny.

Johnny: That whole women’s lib thing just bugs me.

Elzira: And why is that?

Johnny: Well, nowadays you’ve got so many young women going to university and getting a mind of their own – and I mean, that’s great – all the more power to them. But it makes having a relationship with them so much more complicated.

Elzira: How do you figure?

Johnny: Well, you have to stimulate them on so much more deep a level. I mean, when I was in high school all I had to do to keep my girlfriend happy was give her a good fuck and not cheat on her… and I could only do half of that.

Elzira: Oh my god, you’re terrible.

Milo: This coming from the guy who’s been happily married to a university professor for 25 years.

Elzira: You’re married to a university professor?

Johnny: Well yeah, but she didn’t have the same last name when I met her.

Elzira looks at him in a confused way.

Johnny: Well, I met her just after high school and I knew instantly that this was the girl that I was going to marry. So after our first date I asked her if one day she would want to have my last name. And she said to me, point blank, “Maybe one day your last name will be my middle name, but there’s no doubt in my mind that my last name is going to be PhD.” (pause) So she didn’t have the same last name when I met her… it took her a solid ten years before that happened.

Elzira: That is so pathetically cute – or maybe it’s cutely pathetic. I don’t know… but I like it. So what does she teach?

Johnny: Feminist criminological theory.

Elzira: Oh my, a feminist and a man whose shirt reads “Moustache Rides Twenty Five Cents.” (pause) So where do you stand on the feminist tip Otis?

Milo: Well, I agree with certain parts of feminism. But I think they take it too far. I think that mankind should be called human kind. But what would you call a ladies man? A person’s person? Kid’s would be singing, “For he’s a jolly good person” while looking up at the person in the moon. It’s the kind of thing we’d be watching on…

Elzira: Late night with David Letterperson?

Milo: You like George Carlin too, eh?

Elzira: Love ‘em.

Milo: And how can you love George Carlin and still be a feminist?

Elzira: I’m not a feminist. I’m for equality and knowing that there is a time and place for everything – especially that kind of humour. Sometimes people take it too far and it’s all because in Canada you can get away with murder… so long as you’re funny.

Milo: Seriously, what’s a beautiful, funny girl like you doing at a bar by herself on a Monday night?

Elzira: It seems you know my weakness. (pause) I’m very susceptible to flattery. (pause) Um… I’m new in town. I just graduated and I moved here to start work. So, yeah. Uh, where else but the bar can you go to meet new people?

Milo: You know, I hear the people you meet in police line-ups always end up being friends for life. (pause) Or you could always try online dating.

Elzira: I’ve got to tell you. There is no more embarrassing thing that I can admit to in my life than to let everyone know that not only do I have an online profile – but that I actually asked a guy online if he wanted to meet.

Milo: Wow. I mean, I have a profile too, but that’s because I’m a huge nerd and have a tendency to respond to every piece of junk e-mail that literally floods my hotmail account on a daily basis.

Elzira: Why would you do that? They’ll just keep sending more.

Milo: Well, a lot of people I know have very constructive hobbies. Some people work out, jog, lift weights – play sports. In general I guess you can say they’re pretty healthy (takes a drink). One of my friends does all sorts of volunteer work, and even though it’s just a way of beefing up her resume for getting into post – post secondary education, it’s still something. I on the other hand respond to junk e-mail. Every e-mail telling me how to gain inches on my penis, every letter detailing how to make my breasts fuller and more supple, and every message telling me “I have already won.” I respond to them all. (pause) I could be helping out the homeless; I could be moulding my body into a specimen of physical (loses his train of thought) – heck I could even be wacking-off. But instead I fill out relationship profiles for lava life that no one in their right mind would ever respond to. But as nerdy as that is, I can’t say that I’ve ever asked anyone on lava life if they wanted to go grab a coffee.

Elzira: Yeah, it’s terrible I know. But your profile was so randomly funny.

Johnny gets up from the table to head to the bar. Blake seems to have missed the important turn in the conversation, and remains seated until Johnny pulls him up from his chair.

Beat.

Milo: Um, what are you talking about? You’ve seen my profile? What, are you stalking me or something?

Elzira: No, honest to God I’m not. This has just been the most fucked up day of my entire life. I was feeling so incredibly lonely this morning. I mean, I’ve been here for two weeks and haven’t gone out once. So, I was just farting around on the Internet, and yeah, I guess as pathetic as this sounds, I went to lava life to see if there was anyone in the area that, you know, maybe would want to meet up for drinks.

Milo: That’s not pathetic at all.

Elzira: Yeah it is. But don’t worry about it. Uh, so yeah. I searched for people in the area and up popped your profile. Well, not right away. I must have read like 30 profiles, and they were all so dumb. I mean, they were all the same. “I’m 25. I go to the gym 3 times a day. My dick is gigantic. I’m a millionaire.” I swear to God, if lava life profiles were accurate; the average size of the male penis would 10 inches. (pause) And then I read this profile that started off, hello my name is Milo, and ended off with, will you help me live forever. And for some reason I knew that the person who wrote that was a funny, down to earth guy, who I could share a laugh with – and maybe a tooth brush.

Milo: (laughing) You know what? As much as I’d love to stay here, get drunk, laugh at all your jokes, and be incredibly intrigued by everything you say, and how it came to be that I met you here - today; I just don’t think that the bar is a good place to get to know someone. I mean, when I’m drunk I think that every girl I talk to is the woman of my dreams. And then when I go out for coffee with her a couple days later, they’re just not the same person. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, uh, this is going to sound so corny.

Elzira: Go ahead.

Milo: Do you want to - go for a stroll?

Elzira: Sure. You do realize that asking me to go out for a walk isn’t corny at all. But the fact that you said stroll… that’s what made it corny. (getting ready to stand up) Oh, shit. You know it’s raining.

Milo: I brought an umbrella.

Elzira: Now that’s corny.

They get up and exit toward the back of the bar.

Milo: Umbrella’s aren’t corny. They’re very practical - especially if you want to wear something nice.

Scene 2: Shave and a Hair Cut.

Milo and Elzira enter into Elzira’s apartment, they are soaking wet and without an umbrella.

Milo: (looking around the apartment) So these are the kind of digs you can afford with your dirty chiropracting money.

Elzira: For the last time, chiropractic work is not a scam.

Milo: Who are you trying to convince, me or you? “Well Mr. Johnson, how is your back feeling?” “Oh, it’s perfect now. I don’t have any more pain. Thank you Doctor.” “Okay, so I’ll just go ahead and schedule you for 3 more appointments this week.” “But my back is fine.” “Your not fine until I say your fine. And you can’t refute me, because you haven’t taken the two week training course.”

Elzira: You’re such a dick.

Milo goes to sit on the couch at centre stage. The couch is facing toward the back of the stage, so that for the audience to see Milo’s face, he has to angle himself with his arm up on the back of the couch. If Milo was to sit straight, he would be looking at the back wall.

Milo: Nah, I’m just kidding around. I just have to get back at you for giving my umbrella to that homeless guy.

Elzira walks toward offstage, where her kitchen is located.

Elzira: Well, all of his stuff was getting wet.

Milo: Cans tend to dry pretty quickly.

Elzira is in the kitchen.

Milo: I am a dick. Wow.

Elzira: Yep. You should work on that. Ah, now that we’ve gotten to know each other sober, you think we should get blotto?

Milo: Blotto? What are you a bad guy from the thirties? (doing an old time bad guy voice) You’re neva gonna get me copper… see. I’m a bootlegga see. Gonna get everyone blotto at my speakeasy. (stops doing the voice) Uh, what do you got?

Elzira: Ah, expired milk. And, uh (long pause) tap water. Sorry, I thought I had a bottle of wine, but my roommate must have stolen it.

Milo: Don’t worry about it. This is the most fun I’ve had sober in awhile. (feels his face) God, I’m fucking disgusting right now. I haven’t shaved in like three days.

Elzira: Coulda fooled me.

Milo: Shuddup. I know I can’t grow a beard or anything, but when I don’t shave for a few days I get these stupid looking little patches on either side of my chin. It just looks terrible.

Elzira: Well, why don’t you just shave here?

Milo: Ah, sorry no. I’m not going to shave my face with the same blade you use for you legs and… underarms.

Elzira exits the kitchen with a small wooden box. She opens it up to reveal a straight blade razor.

Elzira: I wax. You can use this.

Milo: Are you kidding me? Why the fuck do you have a straight blade?

Elzira: For my box. (laughs at her own joke).

Milo: Dangerous.

Elzira: Seriously though, you can use it if you want.

Milo: Ah, no. I think I’ll just stay ugly. I was that kid in kindergarten that they wouldn’t let use safety scissors for fear that he would somehow lodge them in his temple. If I even attempted to pick those up I’d probably cut off my left nut.

Elzira: Let me do it then.

Milo: Excuse me?

Elzira: Let me do it.

Milo: I heard you the first time. But, uh, I don’t know. I let my barber use one of those, but the bond between a man and his barber is a very unique and special one.

Elzira: Don’t you trust me?

Milo: I haven’t known you long enough to trust you yet.

Elzira: That’s funny; I was just going to say I haven’t known you long enough to not trust you yet. (pause) Come on. How many girls do you know even own a straight blade?

Milo: None.

Elzira: Well, don’t you think that if a girl did own a straight blade, that it was probably because she knows how to use it? No girl would ever own one of these just for show.

Milo: Don’t try and trick me with logic here. It doesn’t change the fact that someone I just met tonight is going to be holding a knife to my throat.

Elzira: So you’ll let me do it then?

Milo: Hey, everybody’s got to go somehow.

Elzira: (excited) Awesome. I’ve never done this before… kidding!

Milo: Oh God, I’m already regretting this.

Elzira goes back into the kitchen to get the shaving cream dispenser. And then brings it and the kit over to the couch. She pulls out the leather band and starts to run the blade of the knife back and forth along the strap. She closes the blade and puts the knife in her mouth. She then presses a button on the dispenser and puts the warm shaving cream on her hands. Elzira proceeds to straddle Milo as he sits on the couch and puts the shaving cream gently on his face.

Milo: Wow, you even have the warm shaving cream dispenser. What, do you give every guy you bring home a shave?

She takes the knife out of her mouth, opens it up and holds it to his neck.

Elzira: So, do you still trust me?

Milo is slightly agitated, remains calm, but is at a loss for words.

Elzira: And no, I’ve only ever brought one man home to give him a shave.

Milo: And where is he?

Elzira: He’s dead.

Milo is quite agitated now, and no longer calm.

Milo: Okay okay, this is getting to weird for me. Ah, I’m good with stubble.

He makes a meek attempt to get up, but she gently pushes him back down.

Elzira: Shh. Don’t move. I don’t want to take a nick out of you.

Elzira proceeds to shave Milo’s face with accuracy, speed and precision. In less than two minutes she has his face completely shaved with no cuts and no stray stubble to be seen.

Milo: (feeling his face) Okay, what just happened here? You gotta be honest with me here, how in the hell do you know how to do that?

Elzira: My dad. Ah, one of my first memories is of sitting cross-legged in the corner of our terribly ugly lime green bathroom back in Portugal. I was sitting there, looking up at my dad as he was shaving his face with this straight blade. He was looking in the mirror, his jet-black hair, wet, and slicked back. And he was smiling and quietly humming to himself. My eyes must have been like little saucers looking up at him. I mean, he was my world. And when he was finished he picked me up, and told me to feel his face to make sure it was smooth. So I put my little cheek against his. Then he told me that there wasn’t a woman alive who could resist the smooth skin of a man who’d just shaved with a straight blade.

Milo: That’s really cute… kind of Oedipal, but cute.

Elzira: (jokingly) Shuddup you. So yeah. When I was around 18, my dad started to get really sick.

Milo: I’m sorry.

Elzira: There you go with your sorry’s again.

Milo: Yeah, but this time I really mean it. (pause) If you don’t mind me asking, what was wrong…

Elzira: He had MS. He’d had it for quite a few years, but when I was 18 it was really starting to take a hold of him. His hands would shake uncontrollably and it really hurt my whole family to see him that way. He was our rock. (long pause) Anyway. A month or so before his fiftieth birthday I went to his barber – and you’re right, a man does have a special bond with his barber – and I asked him if he could teach me how to use a straight blade. So after school for the next month I went in to the barber shop, and practiced, first on balloons, which was so embarrassing, and then on some of his brave customers. Most of them knew my dad, and of course also were quite happy to have a well-developed 18-year-old girl touching their face.

Milo: I’ll bet.

Elzira: So on my dad’s fiftieth, him and my mom were going to go out to this little restaurant where they had their first date. And before they did I took him up to that bathroom, sat him down in the leather recliner that my brother had got him and gave him a shave so close, you’d have sworn I’d been doing it for years. Then I put my cheek against his and gave him a kiss. (pause) That was the first and only time I’ve ever seen my dad cry.

Milo: I don’t know what to say to that. (pause) You’re… you’re an incredibly beautiful person aren’t you? I feel bad now thinking what I was thinking when you first pulled that thing out.

Elzira: Forget that, how were you feeling when I had it to your throat?

Milo: A little nervous.

Elzira: I bet. Don’t worry, I’m harmless. A little rough sometimes. But harmless.

Milo: So you’ve never shaved another guys face since then?

Elzira: I don’t want to inflate your ego, but no. I haven’t. You’d be the first.

Milo: Why me?

Elzira: I think when you ask the heart a question; you’re never going to get a logical answer. So, I don’t know.

Milo: (feels his face again) That does feel damn smooth.

Elzira puts her cheek against his.

Elzira: No woman alive could resist it.

They kiss as the lights fade out.

Scene 3: The Truth

When the lights come back on, Milo is sitting on the back of the couch looking out toward the audience.

When I started telling this story I had a plan. I knew where it was going to go, because, well, because this is my life. I knew what parts of it were funny. I knew what parts lagged. I knew where to embellish and where to just tell it like it happened. It’s a remarkable feeling – having that much power over your destiny. Right now I could tell a whopping lie, something that never even came close to happening in my real life, and everyone listening to the story would think that it was true. You know why? Because I’m in charge – I call the shots. Even though I look like a single entity on the stage, I am in fact everyone. I am in control of every aspect of what goes in this story. If I were to say jump, Elzira would poke her head out from that door and say…

Elzira pops her head out from the door.

Elzira: How high?

She exits.

Milo: Exactly. How high? You see, here, she doesn’t have a mind of her own. In fact, she has my mind, albeit a part of my mind that usually stays well hidden from the guise of the real world. (pause) But the point is, here in this story; I could have made every night happen the way that first night with her happened. I could have fallen in love more with every passing day the way I thought it would happen after that first night. In this world, she could be looking at me the way she did that night till the end of fucking time. I could take those liberties, because being in charge of my destiny allows that. (pause) But I’m not going to. Because I still have a plan. Because I know where to just tell it like it happened. And this – this is one of those parts.

Elzira walks out onto the stage and sits on the back of the couch next to Milo. She puts her hand on his leg, and he puts his hand on top of hers. He looks at her for only a moment and then gets up and walks off stage.

Bev enters and sits down at a small table with two chairs to the right side of the stage.

Elzira: I caught him. Not in the act of any sort of sexual indiscretion, but with another woman nevertheless. They were outside of this coffee shop, and I was sitting across the street on a park bench feeding McDonalds French fries to seagulls. They liked them a lot better then I did. (pause) I saw her first. She was a striking lady in what I’d guess to be her early thirties. I remember thinking, I should go over there and ask her where she got that lime green v-neck – I could probably pull it off. She looked nice and approachable, and would probably have been more than happy to tell me where she got it. But just as I was about to get up I saw Milo out of the corner of my eye.

Milo enters onto the stage again and walks passed Elzira like she isn’t even there. He kisses Bev on the cheek and sits down at the seat across from her.

Elzira: I stayed where I was, and continued to feed the seagulls. In truth, when I saw him kiss her on the cheek and sit down, the only reason I didn’t come over and say hi was because I figured they were family. I think Milo’s pretty cute, and she was flat out gorgeous – so, the first thing that popped into my mind was, “Now that families got some good genes.” (she laughs) I don’t really know what the policy is on meeting family members when you’re three dates into a relationship, but I would imagine that you don’t just unexpectedly ambush them while they’re having coffee. (pause) So, after I’d finished my fries, I got up and went home.

Milo and Bev continue to sit on the right side of the stage as Elzira continues her story.

Elzira: That night I was supposed to go out to the Firkin with Milo and a bunch of his friends, but around five o’clock he called me up and said that he had to baby-sit for one of the ladies he worked with. I told him I would wait up for him, and that he could stay over at my place when he was done. But midway through the evening I got kinda bored watching made for TV movies, so I went to the Firkin by myself.

Blake and Penne walk out onto the stage and sit at a small table with three chairs on the left of the stage. Elzira walks over to the table and joins them.

Blake and a few of Milo’s other friends were there when I arrived. Truth be told, it was an awesome night. All of those guys tell great stories, and I got all sorts of dirt on Milo that I could make fun of him with later. (laughing to herself) Tell my mother I’m sorry. (long pause) It wasn’t till I mentioned the fact that Milo was baby-sitting that the night went downhill.

Penne: (laughing) Babysitting? Is that what you call it these days?

Elzira: Well, what else would you call it?

Penne: www-ing until you dot com?

Elzira: (thinks about what he’s implying) Okay, either you tell me straight up right now what’s going on, or I’ll bring my straight blade over here and… Milo told you about the straight blade didn’t he?

Blake nods.

Elzira: Well tell me, or I’ll cut your balls off.

Blake: He had sex with this woman from where he works. She’s in love with him. I doubt he’s still having sex with her now that he’s met you. If he’s over there tonight, it’s probably because he’s trying to let her down easy.

Penne: Yeah, I’m sure he’s probably done with stickin’ it in that bitch. It’s for the best. I mean, you know, what the fuck. I love older women man, but nailing a broad with a kid and a husband is just asking for trouble.

Elzira gets up and walks back over to the couch.

Elzira: I’d never cried over a guy before. But as soon as Penne said she had a kid I ran out of there and bawled the entire walk home. (pause) I don’t know why it didn’t hit me earlier. I thought – I thought, okay, he was having sex with an older woman before he met me. I can deal with that. Heck, I’m five years older than he is – age isn’t that big a deal. And neither is who you’ve slept with in the past. (pause) But I knew he was babysitting for her. And babysitting usually implies that there is a kid involved. Why the fuck didn’t I make that connection? Why did I have to wait for Penne to fucking say she had a kid before I realized that, that… that she has a fucking kid! (pause) Eventually, anger gave way to sadness, sadness to regret. In less than a year Milo became my favourite story to tell people who asked me if I believed in love at first sight. After I’d tell them the story of how we met, and the terms we’d left on, I’d always say, “Yes, I believe in love at first sight, but I have a pretty messed up definition of love.”

Blake and Penne exit to the left. Bev and Milo to the right. The lights fade out with Elzira at centre stage.

Scene 4: He’s not Infallible, But he’s Smarter Than You

Johnny, Milo and Yves (played by Young Milo) sit at three separate bar stools in the centre of the stage and lean on a high table. The table is covered with empty beer bottles.

Milo: I could have made this story a whole lot funnier.

Johnny: I know you could have buddy. You’re a funny guy. But you did the right thing by telling it like it is. (pause) So, she hasn’t called you back then?

Milo: Nah. It’s over.

Johnny: That’s too bad, eh? Pretty crazy though. If you had died when you were supposed to, you never would have slept with Bev, you never would have met Elzira, you never would have fallen in love with her, and you never would have lost her because you slept with Bev. Isn’t that kind of neat? You lost someone you never would have had because of something you never would have done. That’s a mind fuck if you ask me.

Milo: I never slept with Bev.

Johnny doesn’t register what Milo has said until several seconds later. He isn’t surprised by the comment itself, but is quite surprised that Milo finally admitted to it.

Johnny: Yeah, I know.

Milo: How did you know?

Johnny: Bev told me.

Milo: Oh my God. This day could not possibly get any worse.

Johnny: No, no. I didn’t tell her that you said you slept with her. Besides, I don’t think she would have cared anyway. She’s in love with you - unreasonably in love with you. So what did you two actually do? I got her side of the story, but she’s so clouded with how amazing she thinks you are that I can’t tell what she’s hyping up and what actually went on.

Milo: Ah, we did kiss. Actually everything I told you up until the sex part was true. When we went into her room, she started taking of my shirt, and then she slipped out of her dress. And that was it for me. As soon as I saw her standing there, I knew I couldn’t do it. So I left the room and went into the kitchen. (pause) She came in about ten minutes later. She was crying and embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say. Honestly, that was probably my lowest moment as a human being.

Johnny: How could that be? You made the right decision.

Milo: It didn’t feel that way at the time. I felt like a pussy. Like sex was mine for the taking and I wasn’t man enough step up and take it. So when I talked to you the next day, I don’t know, to get psych 101 on you, I guess I could say I tried to hide that shame by saying that we had fucked – I mean, we could have fucked.

Johnny: Then it blew up in your face.

Milo: Yeah it did. You don’t need to remind me of that.

Johnny: Live and learn.

Milo: I’m sick of that bullshit posturing. I never fucking learn. I don’t want to learn. I just want to know. I want to know a month ago, so that this shit wouldn’t have happened. I want this story to play out the way it did in my head, and even though I have that option, I can’t take it.

Johnny: Why not?

Milo: Because I know whatever fantasy story I come up with to replace the shitty reality I’m in now will be nowhere near as good as what would have been if I just didn’t screw up the first time.

Johnny: Yeah, that may be true, but you still shouldn’t shy away from letting this shitty hand you’ve dealt yourself make you a better man. (pause) Do you mind if I take the reins for a bit and tell you a story.

Milo: By all means. I’m fresh out.

Johnny: When I was eighteen I had the most beautiful girlfriend you’ve ever seen in your life. I mean, Cynthia wasn’t even in the same ballpark as the girls I’d dated before her. She had a killer body, and an even more killer mind. Of course, I wasn’t in it for the mind, right? But after going out with her for about six months I could really tell that the way I saw her going into the relationship was not at all the way I was looking at her at that point.

Milo: What, you respected her more?

Johnny: No. Less. (pause) You see, she had this thing, where any time she had a big decision to make in life, she’d talk to her mother. Now, that’s not normally a problem, but her mom had been dead for like six years. (pause) I hated that shit, cause I couldn’t understand it. So I dumped her. I dumped her hard too. I made her feel like the absolute dumbest person on the face of the planet just because I didn’t get how someone with half a brain could think they were talking to their dead mom, dad, granny… anything.

Milo: I don’t get that either.

Johnny: Well, after our break up, she found a way for her and her mom to have plenty of time to talk.

Milo: (sighs) Oh my God.

Johnny: I went to her funeral. And then I left. I dropped out of school, and went to stay up at my family’s cottage for the summer. (pause) After about a month, I’d stopped blaming myself for Cynthia’s death, and I was getting back to my old ways – you know, thinking I was the king shit; not respecting anyone who’s purposes or opinions were different from my own. (pause) So there I was, sitting on the dock at the cottage. It’s a beautiful fuckin day out, so I decide to do a shit load of shrooms, and just veg out in the sun all day. A half an hour or so goes by and I notice the mushrooms are starting to kick in. Not only that, but the sky is starting to cloud over – and I mean fast. Before I knew it the sky went from a baby blue to a dark green, and it literally looked like the world around me was about to explode. Now, I’m not the type to sit out on a floating dock, in the middle of a lake, waiting for a hurricane to drop down on me, so I went to stand up and go inside – but I couldn’t. (long pause) Now, I’m saying this to you in confidence, so if I hear you repeat a word of this I will end your life. You got it?

Milo: Yeah, I got it.

Johnny: I couldn’t get up because my grandfather, who had been dead for fifteen years, was holding me down. (pause) The rain started to come down, and then the hail. It was coming down so hard it was cutting my flesh. Still I couldn’t move. Lighting was hitting the water all around me and the thunder must have been booming, but I couldn’t hear a fuckin thing. In that silence my grandfather leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. “Pay attention boy… take it all in. It’s time to change the way you think.” And just as he said that, a bolt of lightning struck down the biggest tree on the lake, the tree I fancied myself to be like. (pause) Just as quickly as it started, that storm disappeared.

Milo: (almost speechless) Did that actually happen? Or was it the shrooms.

Johnny: I don’t know kid. But I got the message.

Milo: Well, is that tree still there? Or did it get struck by lighting?

Johnny: Oh, it got struck by lightning all right. It was dead the next day when I went over to check it out. But you know what?

Milo: What?

Johnny: Two saplings were growing in its place. Right now those saplings are maturing trees, twenty-six years young, one has my name carved into it, and the other… my wife’s. (pause) Live and learn Milo. Live and fuckin learn. (pause) Alright, I gotta go hang a rat. Talk to my buddy Yves here, I’m sure he’s got some crazy stories to entertain yah.

Johnny exits.

Yves is already in the middle of complaining about something when Milo shifts one seat over so as to sit next to him.

Yves: I’ll tell you what, these fuckin kids today don’t know anything about heart. I see ‘em down at the club, actin’ all tough like they know what being tough is. These fuckin douche bags. They got some balls on ‘em though, but that’s all they got. And what does that even matter anyway? Fuckin pricks. They ride their candy ass bikes, hiding behind the crest, and pickin fights with guys they ain’t got no right pickin fights with.

Milo: (aside) You know you’re having a good day when you end up at a bar talking to a lonely drunk man in his late fifties. These guys are a dime a dozen, every dive bars got at least one, and they’ll talk your ear off about whatever they can, so long as you even feign interest. When he started talking I figured, “Well, here comes another typical old man rant about the kids today.” But certain choice phrases in what he was saying stood out. Candy ass bikes? Hiding behind the crest? It certainly didn’t sound like he was talking about the kind of “club” where you go to pick up girls. So, instead of standing up and moving to a different seat like I had planed… I feigned away.

Milo: Who are you talking about there buddy?

Yves: Ah? Oh, the Choice Boys. The little shits that think they’re running the show.

Milo: What, did you used to be in the Choice?

Yves: Used to? Oh, boy. Once you’re a member, you’re a member for life.

Milo: (intrigued) Really? Wow, forgive me for sounding so ignorant, but I guess I just don’t know anything about the Satan’s Choice.

Yves: Fuck. Don’t worry about it kid. All you gotta know is it ain’t what it used to be.

Milo: How so? Like, how did it used to be? Once again, I apologize, but all I know about the Choice I know from the news, and I mean, it just seems like there’s a lot of drug dealing and shit like that going on in those groups. Don’t get me wrong, I love weed, and to each their own right. But it just seems like they’re a bunch of bad dudes.

Yves: You’re right. That’s absolutely the way they are. But that’s not how it used to be. People don’t understand, but when I was riding it was all about the bikes. It was about the open road. It was about being a part of a group of guys that had the same connection. It was about the heart.

Milo is starting to realize how ridiculous Yves sounds, but continues to agree with everything he says. He is also starting to get slightly afraid of Yves, as he gets more riled up.

Milo: Oh, for sure. You gotta live life with heart, and standing up for your brothers.

Yves: You don’t let anyone fuck with your brothers, and you don’t let anyone fuck with your family. That’s what heart is! (pause) One time, this group of niggers jumped my dad when he was coming how from getting groceries. I swear to fucking God. My dad’s an old guy too. There was no way he was defending himself against these guys. They beat him up, stole his watch, his money – they even stole his fuckin groceries. Can you believe that? Only a fuckin nigger would rob an old man of his fuckin groceries.

Milo: Holy shit man. Did the cops get them?

Yves: Fuck no. You think the cops would help out an old man? Nah, they didn’t get caught by the cops, but I knew exactly who had done it. So I grabbed my gun and I went down to where those fuckers hung out. I knocked on the door, and as soon as that nigger opened the door I put the barrel of the gun underneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

Milo: You’re kidding right?

Yves shakes his head.

Milo: Did he… did he die?

Yves: You better believe he did. I served seven years for that.

Milo: Do you regret it at all?

Yves: The only regret I have is that I served seven years. I have happy memories of shooting that nigger’s head off.

Milo stands up and walks to the front of the stage.

Milo: On any other day this type of situation would have presented me with two options. The first: I finish my beer quietly, pay my tab, and get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. The second: stay, and agree with him to the tune of every aspect of his pathetic ideals. Hide my opinions away so that I can have a story to tell my boys the next day about the first person I’d ever met who’d killed someone. (pause) But I was angry, and I was drunk. I’d been having the shittiest three days in recent memory, and for the first time in my life, I could not find the humour in this situation. For a brief moment before I responded to him, I thought about all the times I had said nothing when I should have said something, and all times I should have just listened when I was running my big mouth. (pause) I thought about Elzira, and how I never should have met her.

Milo sits back down.

Milo: Listen buddy. As big a fan I am of Clint Eastwood movies, where he walks in lone ranger style and avenges his family, I just don’t see how what you did was right – in any sense of the word. Personally I think shooting and killing an unarmed man makes you a big pussy. Oh, and could you stop saying nigger. I don’t talk to bigots.

Milo turns away from Yves. As Milo goes to stand up and leave, Yves hits him over the head with a beer bottle. Milo falls down to the ground and Yves starts to kick him. Milo tries to stagger out at the back of the stage on his hands and knees. As he gets to the door, Yves picks him up and pushes him against the wall. He then pulls out a gun and shoots Milo in the stomach. Yves exits. Milo starts to fall as the lights fade out.

When the lights come back on Milo and Elzira are sitting on the two bar stools in the centre of the stage. Milo still has blood on his shirt from where the bullet hit. They look at each other for a moment and then kiss.