Curtain of Mine

This is for a book of exercises I'm working my way through right now. Enjoy!

Silky see-through chain separates me from my goal. It's tricky, flowing like a drizzle of rain, shimmering in the light; I can see my wish behind it, but the second I reach for it the curtain freezes, hardens into solid steel, all the chain link going rigid. This is the stuff of legends and magic. An evil obstacle on the path to fulfillment, enlightenment, success.

People crowd around, pushing me closer, shoving me repeatedly against the hardened mail. Now they pull me away fiercely, showing me this and that – unimportant trinkets whose meaning I can't grasp. Suddenly I am alone. Sitting on my stool, feeling its coarse grain grains my palms. Why am I sweating There's nothing to fear.

I shove my hand part way through, earnestly starting for the prize, but the curtain quickly realizes what I'm doing and freezes, my hand still outstretched. I scream from pain and frustration. Why? Why is this happening to me? I yank my arm with increasing pain back to my side. Blood stains my sleeve and this sentient mass of metal. It drinks my blood, absorbing it to know me better.

For a while I sit and cry.

I see myself, reflected off my own defense. See contentment. I am at times; content to sit and stare, pretending I'm on the other side, imaging for hours what I'd do if I were. I feel wasteful. My handwriting scrawls across the barrier, broken tools shine there too. Everything stands in the way. Including myself.

Then I see the faces of those I love. The mail takes on a bluish hue, the color of my sons eyes, then blinds me with his smile. My husband's laugh echoes around the room, melding into Junior's giggle. My mother's face serenely smiling, calm, happy. I feel warm. Is it toying with me?

When will it be my turn? I know if I could break through I could be great. There is so much within me waiting to be said.

I'll say it.

For myself, and for them.

I throw myself at the curtain, feel it react to my body, starting to harden, shooting me through with daggers of searing ice. I push with all m might before stumbling forward.

I am here.

The open book lay before me, pages blank, pen at its side. I sit; I stare; I grab the pen and it begins.

Theft [play 5 of 31]

Again, forgive the spacing issues...

Theft

by

R. K. Futty

LIGHTS UP on an empty stage. DOLORES, and elderly woman dressed in a long flowing nightgown dances her way onstage beneath twinkling lights, barefoot and free. She smiles, immersed in motion and the happiness found in the absence of thought. All is beautiful. KEVIN enters upstage right. DOLORES stops, faces the audience.

DOLORES

Hello. I’m Sylvia Plath. I like to stick my head in ovens. I have three children: Id, Ego, and Super-Ego. My Father was a secret Nazi so I hate the Jews.

KEVIN

Damn dirty apes.

DOLORES

How dare you! My mother was Jewish!

KEVIN

But you said you hate the Jews!

DOLORES

What?! I never said that! I’m Jewish!

KEVIN

And I’m Puerto Rican.

DOLORES

You look French. It’s the beret.

KEVIN

Well I’m not French. I’m Swedish. Can’t you tell?

DOLORES

You Christians don’t know what you’re talking about.

KEVIN

So said every Atheist ever.

DOLORES

I’m not an Atheist! I’m Agnostic.

KEVIN

Okay, Sylvia.

DOLORES

Who’s Sylvia?

KEVIN

You are!

DOLORES

No, my name is Winston Churchill. I killed every Nazi ever with my potbelly powers and personally put out my cigar on Goebbels face.

KEVIN

I’m so sorry for the mistake Mr. Prime Minister!

DOLORES

As you should be! You Americans ruin everything.

KEVIN

On that we can agree. I’m Jefferson, by the way. Thomas Jefferson. You may have read my work.

DOLORES

Mein Kampf?

KEVIN

...no. How about “The Declaration of Independence?”

DOLORES

Sorry. I was only allowed to read one book growing up.

KEVIN

It freed the colonists from their British overlords!

DOLORES

Well La-ti-da! I free the slaves.

KEVIN

President Lincoln?

DOLORES

Canasta! Good to know my name still means something.

KEVIN

You know you ultimately did nothing.

DOLORES

WHAT?

KEVIN

There are more slaves today than in the history of the world.

DOLORES

Oh please.

KEVIN

Over 27 million. But nobody cares. They all keep buying their cheap slave-made products because it’s easy. There’s been so much media exposure - but most people care more about which stars banging who or the fact that Republicans or Democrats are the ones who are really wrong. No one cares about working together to help end serious issues. The old fight over money, the young party like there’s no tomorrow-

DOLORES

YOLO!

KEVIN

-What ever happened to the common good? This is not what we created this country for.

DOLORES

That’s sad and all but it doesn’t really affect me. If I can’t see it, it doesn’t exist.

KEVIN

Tell that to the four-year-old girls repeatedly being raped, daily, after being sold into slavery by their parents - who couldn’t pay their rent because they themselves are under the burden of forced labor.

DOLORES

This is why I stuck my head in that oven. Our world’s insane. Now let me relive my Nazi-killing glory days in peace. I need to remember my mother. I knew her. She counts.

KEVIN

Fine. Here’s your meds Mr. President. Take them and I’ll go.

DOLORES

My name is Dolores.

KEVIN

I know. You still have to take the pills.

He hands her pills. She takes them.

DOLORES

When can I go home?

KEVIN

You can never go home. Your family’s just like the rest of this country. Selfish and unfair.

DOLORES(crying softly)

Can’t you do anything?

KEVIN

There’s nothing to be done.

KEVIN puts his arm around DOLORES and lets her cry into his shoulder. He leads her off stage. LIGHTS OUT.

Play Four

Sorry about the wonky spacing. Blogger hates me.

A Tale of Two Melvins

by

R. K. Futty

LIGHTS UP on three blocks center stage. ONE, TWO, and THREE sit on them in any order. They sit in silence, listening, waiting. Anticipation is in the air. ONE hits her block once. TWO hits twice. THREE hits three times. They all start banging away at different rhythms, somehow making a song, all are smiling.

TWO

HELEN!

ONE

I’ve never been to Paris.

THREE

Moooooo.

ONE

Texas, that is.

TWO

Helen!

ONE

France isn’t real.

THREE

Mooooo.

ONE

So why would I want to go there?

TWO

Helen...

ONE

But I’ve always dreamed of Texas!

THREE

I said, “Moooooo!”

ONE and TWO

Who let the cow in?!?!?!

THREE

Excuse me! I am NOT a cow just because I produce milk.

TWO

I feel like a cow for that exact reason.

ONE

You’re so fat.

THREE

You’re not real.

TWO

Oh snap!

THREE

Just like France.

TWO

I think I’ve got some aloe for that-

ONE and THREE

You’re not funny!

TWO

...burn

Silence. TWO makes siren noise.

ONE

IT’S THE PO-LICE!

THREE

Eff the po-lice!

TWO

Everybody run!

All three get up and run around stage ending up on different blocks.

ONE

My bologna has a first name-

THREE

It’s Melvin.

TWO

Oh that’s sad.

ONE

Terrible really.

THREE

He was delicious.

ONE

He was my friend!

TWO

You should hear the way you talk sometimes.

THREE

You should hear the way you talk sometimes.

ONE

He was my only friend...

THREE

Now you’re being ridiculous.

TWO

Why did you eat him?

THREE

Jealousy’s a cruel mistress.

ONE

I never knew.

THREE

I never wanted you to know.

TWO

Hold it, hold it, hold it! I have an announcement to make! I can’t bear it any longer. I must make myself known. For I, am the REAL Melvin!

ONE (joyfully)

Melvin!

THREE (angrily)

Melvin!

TWO (grandly)

Melvin!

ONE

Melvin?

THREE

Melvin...

TWO

HELEN!

ONE and THREE

She’s no here. She’s in Paris.

TWO

Paris?

THREE

He has an apple.

TWO

Pfft. Paris.

ONE

I’ve never been to Paris.

THREE

It wasn’t sour though.

TWO

Well that’s good.

THREE

That’s why she didn’t like it.

TWO

I never would have known!

THREE

She told me years ago.

TWO

You knew her?

THREE

Who?

TWO (uncertainly)

Paris?

ONE

Helen. My name is Helen.

TWO

Helen?

ONE

Melvin...

THREE

...me.

LIGHTS OUT.