Decline into Imbecility

Dave: Hey, I’ve missed you.

Meryl: I’m sure you have. Are you drinking pop and eating sweets again?

Dave: No. I’m remaining celibate forever.

Meryl: You’re stupid.

Dave: I agree. Let’s watch TV.

Meryl: I’ll read. You continue your decline into imbecility.

Dave: I am an idiot but she is…. well….. She is not nice. I’m Dave. I’m a regular guy. I don’t know anything. I like wrestling and I want to be great, and to have millions of people who care about my passing at my funeral. That’s about it.

Robbie: Hey, Davy! Ready for the match?

Dave: This is my friend… Robbie. Hey. Yeah. I like watching “The Wasteland.” That’s what we call television yet we watch it. We’re not very smart.

Robbie: Sweet. Yeah. So I’m going to church again.

Dave: Really? Cool. Which one?

Robbie: I don’t remember. Wait- I mean- I don’t know. I go to a different one each week.

Dave: Yeah? Are any of them any good?

Robbie: They give me a little assurance for the week to come.

Dave: I still go to church. In fact, I’m giving the sermon this week.

Robbie: But I thought you were an Agnostic.

Dave: Yes, but I’m a decent salesman, and I know enough about semantics and emotionalism to make these people feel good. Maybe. Maybe not. To be honest, I haven’t written a word yet.

Robbie: Why not? You need to do that.

Dave: I don’t know. I’m not a smart guy. I’m not well-read and I’m not a very good speaker or thinker. Let’s talk about this after the sermon.

Robbie: Are you sure?

Dave: Sure. Oh, we should turn the TV on.

Robbie: Yeah…. That may help.

Dave: I wonder why that is.

Robbie: You wonder why what is?

Dave: I don’t know. I forget. I think I’m developing some sort of insanity or early form of senility.

Robbie: We’re not very cheerful, are we?

Dave: We’re not awful. We’re not ax-murderers or thieves.

Robbie: Yes, but we’re not saints either.

Dave: I’m okay with that. I enjoy most parts of my life without making much money or knowing how to do much. I just forgot how old I am. Do you know?

Robbie: 25, isn’t it?

Dave: Maybe. Doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine.

Robbie: So, how’s Meryl?

Dave: I should have realized that the one girl who would date me would be too much for me to handle, but she likes it here when we’re not around each other, or so she tells me. I need to stop eating. I am such a fatty.

Robbie: You could bear to lose a few.

Dave: Stop being a jerk!

Robbie: Sorry.

Dave: Is it on yet?

Robbie: You’re looking at the same TV as I am…. So, no.

Dave: Strange.
Robbie: Tell me about it.

Dave: That must be Julie. Hi, Julie.

Julie: Hi, Dave.

Dave: Would you like to come in?

Julie: Never.

Dave: Of course.

Julie: I’m here to pick up Meryl.

Dave: Of course you are.

Julie: Get over yourself.

Dave: I’ll never do that. Meryl!

Julie: You could have went up the stairs and told her very quietly to get her butt down here.

Dave: Well, Hitler could have not been instrumental in the deaths of millions of innocents but as he didn’t do that, I didn’t do as you so disagreeably advised.

Julie: I don’t see what she sees in you.

Dave: Neither do I. Do come in.

Julie: Gladly.

Dave: You’re not going to sit down, are you?

Julie: Do you want me to make small talk with you standing up?

Dave: No. No. Don’t tax yourself.

Julie: I’ll sit. You two are such losers. No money, no prospects, no futures, no friends, no hobbies, no curiosity, nothing. All you do is avoid people and feel sorry for yourselves. And yet you two sit here like two great, revolutionary, Postmodernist thinkers as though misery and self-pity make you two these colossal geniuses. Colossal geniuses invent, think, read, write and they don’t complain all day long. You two are nothings and nobodies. And your complaints are correct: No one cares about you and no one ever will.

Robbie: You’re adorable, Julie. If you had a different personality, I’d kiss you right now.

Julie: Meryl, get your butt down here right now!

Meryl: Hi, Julie. Where are we going?

Julie: Somewhere without any losers.

Meryl: That place doesn’t exist in this town.

Dave: By the way, Julie, I’m giving the sermon this Sunday. Don’t show up.

Julie: You can’t speak so don’t worry.

Dave: Why am I such a jerk? I’m worse than she is. At least she thinks she’s speaking the truth. I always feel that I’m a fake. An extraordinary happening…. that’s what is called for.

Robbie: Do you have any pop?

Dave: Yes. Orange. Dr. Pepper and Root Beer. Drink all of it. I can’t. I need to write something that will transform lives.

Robbie: Your sermon?

Dave: No. I don’t care about that. I’m talking about a play, a movie, a novel, a short story, poem, book of philosophical and political thought. What I have finally realized is that one must do what one enjoys. We cannot worry about being geniuses or shape shifters. We have to find what we love and do it with a ceaseless, perpetual passion and enthusiasm. Of course we can’t become so obsessed that we become hermits or total jerks who have no time for anyone but ourselves. But if we’re geniuses and interesting enough… People will die to have time with us. See, right now we’re hermits but we’re considered lazy losers by everyone or so we think which is practically the same thing. But, anyway, if we’re geniuses at least we’re hiding away to do something that might be beautiful, creative, original, artistic, or brilliant. Get it? If we’re that obsessed though, we’ll still have to be able to pay the bills, make money, get good deals, shop for the right things, have clothes that fit, shower occasionally just to smell a little better. Plus, imagine if we have children. Then there’s the relationships. With our parents which for all intents and purposes after all our lollygagging and ridiculous excuses still love us and think we’re going to do great things although we never visit or call. Let’s face it: We owe them much more than we can ever express in words. Suicide is easier, isn’t it?

Robbie: Tell me about it.

Dave: Look at us…. We’re hideous. Not that that’s all that important, but it’s just one more fault that we have. Well, that’s not fair. You’re not that hideous. But me? My God, I am the ugliest person in the world! Why was I born? Doesn’t matter. I’m here and I’m enjoying it.

Robbie: Are you sure?

Dave: Not at all. Whatever happened to wrestling?

Robbie: Oh… This is some sitcom. Oh…. Wrong channel.

Dave: We can’t even operate the television properly. We are buffoons.

Robbie: Should I change it or not?

Dave: No. The night is wasted. Let’s just talk.

Robbie: We don’t talk. We complain.

Dave: I need to read more often. I’m declining into imbecility.

Robbie: As do I. As am I.

Dave: Why are we afraid and contemptuous of everything?

Robbie: We’re idiots.

Dave: That goes without saying.

Robbie: What else?

Dave: I have no idea.

Robbie: Let’s go for a walk.

Dave: No.

Robbie: You don’t like walks?

Dave: Sounds weird.

Robbie: You’re too weird for me.

Dave: I’m your only friend.

Robbie: Are we even friends?
Dave: What do you mean?

Robbie: We don’t talk. We don’t have anything in common except wrestling which we never actually get around to watching. We’re nothings. We’re nobodies. No one cares about us and no one ever will. And who can blame them? (Pulls pills from pocket.) (Takes it.) Want one?

Dave: Sure.

Robbie: Here.

Dave: Thanks. What is it?

Robbie: Just a pill.

Dave: Nothing serious?

Robbie: Nothing is serious.

Dave: How long does it take?

Robbie: A few minutes.

Dave: It’s scary but it’ll be nice.

Robbie: Yeah. We’ll be missed…. Maybe. But not for long. I still enjoyed my life but I wasn’t meant for this world.

Dave: Neither was I.

Robbie: Any minute now.

Dave: I almost feel passionate now. Almost.

Robbie: We’re beginning to sound like Samuel Beckett.

Dave: We actually read something and remembered something about it.

Robbie: God, we were losers.

Dave: Yeah. But maybe even lazy losers deserve some happiness.

Robbie: No, we didn’t.

Dave: You’re right.
(Both pass away as curtain falls.)