Akin to It

Akin to It


Brandon: Hey, Jenny. Come over here now. Yeah, Ben will be here soon. I’ll make sure he’s quiet. I may r may not kill him. We’ll see. Bye. Get here quick. She hung up before I was finished. Tell me, God, why do I like this girl? I’m hopeless.

Ben: Hey, man.

Brandon: Hey. Jenny’s coming over. Make yourself scarce.

Ben: No way. I’m going to flirt with her too.

Brandon: She doesn’t want you to flirt with her. She thinks you’re immature.

Ben: She’s playing hard to get. I know women.

Brandon: You know women as well as you know manners.

Ben: I know. You need to stop pointing out the obvious, dude.

Brandon: Don’t call me dude or I’ll rip your eyes out.

Ben: You are calm. I’ll give you that.

Brandon: Please don’t mess this up.

Ben: Don’t worry. I plan to have her out of here by seven.

Brandon: Ben, you’re not getting anything I’m saying. Jenny and I plan to leave at 8 for the movies.

Ben: What movie?

Brandon: It doesn’t matter.

Ben: It certainly does. I finally have enough money to go to the movies.

Brandon: You’re not going.

Ben: I can’t go to the movies?

Brandon: No.

Ben: Are you my Mother?

Brandon: I might as well be I do everything around here.

Ben: You do not.

Brandon: Forget it. You can go to the movies but not with me and Jenny.

Ben: I really think Jenny and I will be taking in a movie, Lover Boy.

Brandon: She can’t stand you.

Ben: That’s just a mask she’s wearing.

Brandon: Yeah- she tells everyone she meets that you’re obnoxious and ugly because she loves you. Do you listen to yourself?

Ben: Who listens to themselves when they talk? God, you’re retarded. What I’m trying to say is, she likes to play these games. I know her type.

Brandon: You’ve never had a girlfriend so what the heck are you talking about?

Ben: I’ve had dozens of internet girlfriends. I almost met one once too.

Brandon: You are aware you’re thirty years old, right?

Ben: I’m 29, Brandon.

Brandon: Ok. Listen to me. She hates you. She likes me.

Ben: Has she ever said that she likes you?

Brandon: No but she’s thinking it.

Ben: Mind reading now, huh? Brandon you are the stupidest person I know. She is not interested.

Brandon: Then why is she always coming over.

Ben: You’re the only person she can beat in chess which is strange since when you two play chess, you’re actually playing horseshoes.

Brandon: Listen, Ben, I have been waiting years for a girl to come along who loves me for me.

Ben: Whoa. Whoa. Back up there, sir. Love? Love? Get real. She does not and will never love either one of us. Sure we have charm and humor, but we’re not love material.

Brandon: You’re not. I am.

Ben: Brandon, let’s come back to earth. You look like Bea Arthur in drag. Now I know that’s what she already looked like, but I’m trying to make a point here. No, no, keep quiet and let me speak. I never get to speak here. No, of course not, because Brandon must talk with his nasal voice and amaze all of us with his knowledge of geraniums. Yes, I am calling you out now. Or am I? Yes, a strange turn is being made. Isn’t it, Brandon? Do you know what I’m doing? Don’t answer. Keep still. Think about it. The truth is, I am in love with you, Brandon.

Brandon: Well, I knew that, why are you telling me now?

Ben: You know why.

Brandon: No, I don’t.

Ben: Think about it for a moment.

Brandon: I’m done. Tell me. I love Jenny. She is my one and only. You aren’t. You and I can’t stand each other.

Ben: That’s what relationships are built on, my love.

Brandon: Wait. Wait. Wait. I don’t get this. I don’t get this at all.

Ben: No one can comprehend love.

Brandon: No, I knew you loved me and all, I’ve seen you peering in at me as I’m taking a shower, and snapping pictures, and you’ve sent me several pictures of you nude. Which I wish you would stop all those things, but why would you think I would return your feelings?

Ben: Oh, Brandon, don’t play hard to get.

Brandon: How weird is this?

Ben: It’s not weird. It’s just new. There’s a fine line, sweetie.

Jenny: Hi, guys. Ben, get lost.

Ben: Jennifer. Jennifer. How are you, my sweet. Kiss me, please.

Jennifer: No.

Ben: (Kisses Brandon.) Are you sure, jenny?

Jennifer: Maybe I will kiss you.

Ben: Do so.

Jennifer: Ok. (They kiss) Very nice. Where do you practice?

Ben: I kiss Brandon while he’s sleeping sixty times a night.

Jennifer: Wow, that’s very creepy.

Ben: Creepy is the new “in” thing.

Brandon: Is any of this going anywhere?

Ben: No, the author has no idea where he’s taking this.

Jennifer: That moron.

Brandon: We really suck as characters. None of us make any sense. None of us have objectives or dreams.

Ben: That’s his point. All of life is random and futile. And all of our loves and relationships will be confusing, creepy and crass, and we’ll never know for certain who we love or what we believe in.

Brandon: Well, he’s no Ionesco.

Jennifer: True, but people who would actually read this trash wouldn’t know the likes of Ionesco and Kafka. I can’t believe he even knows who they are.

Brandon: He doesn’t. He just likes name-dropping. What a loser. So are we but not really since we’re not real.

Ben: He has no control. He never knows what we’ll do next. He’s not even good enough to make this suspension of disbelief entertaining. He needs to do something besides waste people’s time. Don’t you agree?

Brandon: He can’t help it. He’s an illiterate dolt. He doesn’t understand language or  structure, and he’s not an expert on anything that would make a play exciting.

Jennifer: Well, let’s shut up and see what happens next.

Brandon: I’m thinking a ménage a trios.

Ben: That was so predictable. This guy is awful and predictable. And talk about repetitive and nonsensical. My God, maybe our parents will walk in next.

Parents: (Unison) Hey, kids!

Ben: A Greek chorus, no less. That’s pathetic.

Parents: We have come to let all of you know that we are not really your parents. We are aliens.

Brandon: Are we aliens then?

Parents: Nope. Just alienated.

Brandon: Oh, boy, we need to get out of this play.

Beeker: Why can’t anyone talk these days? No one communicates. They grunt and they whine, and they cajole and they lie. But no one really tells the truth. No, that’s too much to ask. They sit in front of TVs and computers, and they whine, whine, whine. And then they do this every day of their lives until they don’t know what to say anymore. Sure, they work, too and they complain about their bosses, coworkers, friends, spouses, significant others, strangers, the homeless, politicians, businessmen, the rich, the poor, the activists, the lazy, the disabled, the derelicts, the thieves and murderers, clergy, and the atheists. And the list goes on and on. Occasionally they’ll say something nice about someone or some event, but mostly we’re all negative and we’re all lonely, and we know nothing

Ben: I love how this gets more and more uplifting as it goes along.

Beeker: Shut your trap, sonny. I don’t think I was done talking. Did I say I was done talking, sonny? Huh? Answer up or I’ll take you over my knee and learn you some manners.

Ben: You stopped talking and you’re senile anyway.

Beeker: What! Huh? Geez oh Pete oh Roger! Hang it all! I’m so mad, I’m so angry, I’m so dumb, I’m sick of being tongue-tied and slow all the time. Hang it all! All to Hell! Is there a Hell! Who cares! That’s this generation. Who cares! Who cares! Nothing matters! Instant gratification! Liars and cheats and lazy bums, everyone but no they’re better than all of us because they know the true way to live. Hogwash. We knew the right way too, but guess what?! We were wrong, and you’re wrong, and everyone after you will be wrong! None of us know squat about squash! All of you aggravate me, and all of you are ugly although on the surface you may appear beautiful, but no…. This is one of those plays where the lead characters look like Neanderthals to give the audience a sense of what real people are like. My God, this author is bad! Geez oh Pete! My God! I’m getting out of here now. (Exits. He’ll be back.)

Ben: Well, Brandon, is it me or Jenny?

Brandon: Jenny.

Ben: More predictability.

Jenny: Brandon, I’ve been leading you on.

Ben: Here we go.

Brandon: No! It can’t be true. No. I’ll kill you.

Jenny: Oh boy.

Ben: Brandon…. Wait, are our parents still around.

Parents: Yes!

Ben: What? Could you imagine if this thing were actually published? Oh… man…. I would not go to see it. Never. Never ever. Gosh, even when he’s pretending to give us our own voice, we’re repetitive.

Brandon: Jenny, I must have you. I must. But, no, you’re just one person. There’s so many other pretty girls. Come to think of it, I don’t even know you very well. I do know Ben, though. Ben, kiss me!

Ben: Whoa. Whoa. I’m not Ben right now. Give me a minute, man. Just a minute. I need to talk to the author.

Brandon: But…. He’s not going to come in the play.

Ben: He should.

Jenny: How about me?

Brandon: Get lost!

Ben: No, stay, I was also leading Ben on. I want you. Come to me right now.

Jenny. No. Sorry. Come in, Taz.

Taz: Hey, baby. Let’s blow this joint.

Jenny: Our author hasn’t made you likeable at all.

Taz: I know it, but this is what I have to say. Maybe he thinks this is what girls like you like.

Jenny: That’s sad. He doesn’t know women at all.

Taz: Nope. But let’s go.

Jenny: Are you really as good as it’s going to get?

Taz: Hey I’ve already said more than he wanted me to say, he’ll write me out in a minute.

Jenny: Nah, he hates to edit. You’re safe.

Taz: Yeah. You’re right. Well, let’s stay here, and see what happens.

The Author: Hey, characters.

Ben: Characters! There’s nothing interesting or logical or even illogical about us. None of us make any sense. Where are our objectives? Our desires? Our fears? Did you think any of this through?

The Author: No, I just didn’t want to be doing what I should have been doing so I wrote this.

Brandon: Well, who am I going to be with?

The Author: I’m thinking you’ll all stay single, and remain that way forever.

Jenny: Oh no! Are you going to chronicle the next eighty years of our lives.

The Author: Dear Lord, no, I’m not Faulkner.

Brandon: That’s an understatement.

The Author: Watch it or I’ll kill you off.

Brandon: Fine. Death is better than being in this endless cycle.

The Author: What cycle? There is no cycle! This isn’t real life. Now, that’s a cycle! Let me explain what I’ve been trying to do here. Now, I sat down and I wanted to write something. I started out with the idea of an autobiography, but I’m boring so I moved onto this.

Ben: The autobiography would have been better.

The Author: That’s it. Brandon, shoot Ben!

Ben: Give me a gun, your greatness!

The Author: I forgot it!  I don’t know what was meant by all of this. It was all absurd. But, it was more than absurd. It was supposed to be in the vein of Pinter, Ionesco, Kafka, Havel, Camus, and all the other greats.

Ben: Ran out of names already huh?

The Author: Yes! And now I realize what all of this was about?

Parents: What!

The Author: I don’t know!  No, no, this isn’t right at all. I need to wrap this up quickly. Ok. All of you are going to die and I’ll start afresh the next time I write.

(All the characters fall dead)

The Author: Ok. Now what do I do?

Beeker: I'm back! Oh geez, who are you? You look like, My God, you're ugly! Are you the writer of this trash1 Why is everything trash these days? If you're as great as I've heard surely you can answer me that simple question. Can't you, or are you another phony? Huh? Huh! Geez oh Pete! I don't know how much of this negativity, this cynicism, this pointless drivel I can say without feeling more foolish and stupid than I already do. How can you write this nonsensical, illogical crap?!

The Author: I want the world to realize something.

Beeker: But there's nothing to realize!

The Author: Exactly!

Beeker: Well. Ionesco did it better!

The Author: Well, I'm not Ionesco! No I am my own man with my own style, and if you don't like me I'll kill you off too!

Beeker: Why all the screaming and whining? That's what I want to know!

The Author: Hey I just write this stuff, I don't have the answers!

Beeker: Well, I'm done. (Falls over dead)

The Author: Good idea. (Dies).

(End.)