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This Is Not A Suicide Note
by Jonathan Elmore
Copyright © 2010 by Jonathan Elmore
DAVID is a mid-thirties, strung out, intelligent college grad with no future…so he thinks. He sits at his cluttered desk writing a note. He needs a thesaurus.
CHARLIE is David’s athletic roommate. He is apathetic to David’s woes.
RITA is Charlie’s on/off girlfriend.
Setting is a desk center stage, a couch downstage right, an exit upstage right, and an exit to a bedroom upstage left.
DAVID: I am sad… (Looks up) sad…sad… (He sifts through the desk looking at each book he pulls out.) Dictionary…Book of clichés… (Beat. Puts it on his desk) that may come in handy later. (Keeps looking and finds a thesaurus.) Ah, thesaurus, my old friend. (He turns pages and finds sad.) Ssssssssad… (Mumbling with) Dejected, depressed, dispirited. (Sets book down and writes.) I am dejected and dispirited. My mind cannot wrap around this bad depression. (Looks up) Bad depression? Bad. (Picks up thesaurus and thumbs through it.) Bad… (Mumbles with) hurtful, depraved, oppressed! (Sets book down and writes) My mind cannot wrap around…no (erases) cannot circumnavigate this oppressive sadness. (Picks up the note and reads silently mouthing the words) Hmm…that’s pretty good. (Goes back to writing.) I have come to this place in my life, and soon my death, not by choice, but by chance. Lately…no (erases) Recently, I have had a few problems. (Looks up) Problems isn’t really the right word…shoot (Picks up thesaurus.) Pro….blem. Problem…query…de-si-der-a-tum? Yikes…issue. Eh, we’ll go with issue.
CHARLIE: (Enters eating potato chips) Hey. (David covers up his note and looks at him with suspicion. Charlie walks past the desk and sits on the sofa turning on the TV (audience) with the remote) What’s up?
DAVID: (Nonchalantly) Oh, nothing. What have you been up to today?
CHARLIE: (Eyes on TV/audience) I’ve been avoiding Rita. She’s on the warpath about something.
DAVID: Well, I’ve had the worst of all days. I got fired from a job again for having an argument with a monosyllabic mouth breather of a manager.
CHARLIE: Dude, you got fired from Office Warehouse? What the hell?
DAVID: I was merely pointing out that if their copy machines were to be rotationally shut off for six hours a day, the store would save hundreds on energy costs, wear and tear on the machine, and we wouldn’t pollute…
CHARLIE: Dude, shhhh. American Singer’s on.
DAVID: You have no…
CHARLIE: Dude, shh.
DAVID: (Angrily under his breathe) Insolent… (Goes back to writing)
CHARLIE: Ha-ha!! Check out that chick’s hair!
DAVID: I don’t participate in asinine television…
CHARLIE: (waves hand dismissively) Eh. She’s hot thought. She’s got a nice asinine.
DAVID: Could you keep it down? I’m trying to write.
CHARLIE: What are you writing?
DAVID: Uh…A…letter.
CHARLIE: To who?
DAVID: To whom.
CHARLIE: That’s what I said.
DAVID: (Gives up) It’s a…letter to the editor.
CHARLIE: I thought only old people wrote letters to the editor.
DAVID: First, that’s not true. Second, this is something that has been on my mind for a while.
CHARLIE: Ok, Singer’s back on. Shhh.
Knock at the door, David looks at Charlie, Charlie shrugs, David gets up to answer it.
DAVID: Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll get it. (Opens door and smiles) Rita! (Charlie grimaces and sinks into the sofa.)
RITA: Hey, David. Charlie here?
DAVID: But of course. (Bows and motions her into the room.)
RITA: Charlie, you think I don’t remember where you live? Why the hell didn’t you meet me at the gym like you said you were going to? I waited for two hours!
DAVID: Two hours? Charlie…for shame!
CHARLIE: Shut up, David. (Gets up to greet Rita) Rita, baby, I thought that we were meeting tomorrow.
DAVID: Why would you wait that long? I mean, logic would have you reason that after, say, thirty minutes he wouldn’t be showing up.
CHARLIE: Shut up, David…
RITA: (To Charlie) You leave David alone. (To David) It was my cardio day anyway.
DAVID: Ah.
RITA: David, dear, could you leave Charlie and me alone for a few minutes. I’d like to berate him for a little while.
CHARLIE: That sounds kinky. So, you’re not mad? (David and Rita look at each other in disbelief.)
DAVID: (To Rita) I’ll leave you to your monkey. (To Charlie) God help you, man. (Exits to his room.)
CHARLIE: (Watches David walk out.) What was that supposed to mean?
RITA: Well, Charlie, David knows that the word ‘berate’ means to scold for a length of time.
CHARLIE: I don’t like the sound of that. (Sits back down on the sofa)
RITA: Don’t worry. This will be short and sweet.
CHARLIE: Okay.
During the following rant, Charlie slowly sinks further and further into the sofa until he’s as small as he can be without being under the cushions.
RITA: You have taken advantage of my good nature for the last time. I cooked you beef Wellington. Beef freakin’ Wellington for your birthday and you didn’t bother to show up for it because your mommy wanted to see you. I payed the termination fee to my gym so I could join your gym to be closer to you during the week. I gave my cat to my neighbor because you said you were allergic. What the hell am I doing here? Is this the Rita Holloway one-way relationship?
CHARLIE: Heh heh…Say that three times fast…
RITA: Shut it!
CHARLIE: Sorry.
RITA: Where do I go from here? Why, the hell, didn’t you show up to the gym today? And don’t say (mockingly) ‘I thought it was tomorrow night.’ (Normal voice) We talked about it yesterday. We would meet tomorrow…which is today. You were supposed to be there today!
CHARLIE: I’m confused.
RITA: And that’s another thing. I don’t think I can dumb myself down for you anymore. I mean, I’m trying to have a relationship with you and have conversations with you and understand you, but sometimes you look at me like a dog looks at the Wall Street Journal. You have no idea what I’m saying and I’m just describing a trip to the bookstore.
CHARLIE: Well, you’re, like…smart and stuff. You use too many big words that I don’t have any idea what they mean.
RITA: Which is why I think we’re not as compatible as I once thought we were. You have the attention span of a twelve year old at the mall. (Pause) And you’re not that good in bed either.
CHARLIE: (Sits up straight) I take offense to that. I think I’m pretty good.
RITA: Well, thinking doesn’t make it so, Charlie.
CHARLIE: What’s that supposed to mean.
RITA: It means you need to gain a new perspective on your bedchamber abilities.
CHARLIE: (Slightly scared) Hey, I’m not really into chambers and that domination stuff. But, hey, if it turns you on, I’ll try it, I guess.
RITA: (Aside) I’m talking to a fence post. (To Charlie) You think that sports, frat parties and sex are all there is to life, but I need more. I need to have intellectual stimulation. (Silence from Charlie. Pause) Do you know what that means….
CHARLIE: Yeah! (Pause) Look if you’re looking for some Poindexter, then I ain’t your man. Maybe you should try a puss like David. He’s a book smart guy. Hell, he’s writing a stupid letter to the editor or something.
RITA: Seriously? What’s it about?
CHARLIE: I don’t know. He was working on it when I came in.
Rita looks on the desk and finds the letter and reads it.
CHARLIE: It’s probably something about the potholes on this street. He always complains about those.
RITA: Oh my god, Charlie. This is a suicide note.
CHARLIE: (Not believing her) What? No way. That guy’s not that freaky…although he did get fired from Office Warehouse today.
RITA: He got fired? He’s on the edge of a breakdown. (She crosses to David’s bedroom and knocks on the door.) David? (David opens it and steps out just enough to see him.)
DAVID: Hey…
RITA: David, are you okay?
DAVID: I guess. Why?
RITA: I found this. (She holds up the note.)
DAVID: (Shocked) Uh…what the…I… (He snatches note, closes the door and locks it.)
RITA: David, open this door. David you have to talk to me about this. (Pause) If you don’t talk to me you have to talk to someone. A suicide note is a cry for help. Charlie, say something.
CHARLIE: (Gets off the sofa, sets the chip bag down, and goes to David’s door.) David…buddy…you care if I have your stereo if you…?
RITA: CHARLIE!! (Slaps his shoulder. To the door.) David, don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot.
CHARLIE: Hey! (He goes back to the sofa and watches TV.)
RITA: David, talk to me.
(Throughout this conversation, David talks through the door.)
DAVID: I don’t need to talk to anyone, Rita. You may leave now.
RITA: I’m not buying it David. What’s the problem?
DAVID: (Sing song speaking) Nothing…I’m fine.
RITA: Again, David, I’m not buying it. Tell me what led you to write a suicide note.
DAVID: Um…It’s not a suicide note. It’s a…creative writing assignment.
RITA: Creative writing?
CHARLIE: That seems reasonable.
RITA: Ok? Where are you taking your writing class?
DAVID: The…uh…(inaudible mumbling)
RITA: Did you say the Community College?
DAVID: (Pause) Yes.
RITA: Then you must have Professor Campbell.
DAVID: (Pause. Hesitantly) Y-Yes.
RITA: That’s funny, David, because the creative writing professor at the Community College is Professor Gregory, not Professor Campbell. David, open the door and talk to me.
CHARLIE: Hey, American Singer’s over. I’m going to go get some sweet and sour chicken.
RITA: Are you serious? Your roommate is hurting and you’re going to get something to eat?
CHARLIE: (Pause) Yeah. You want me to bring you something?
RITA: No, I don’t want you to bring me something! Why don’t you just get the hell out of here?
CHARLIE: That’s what I’m trying to do!
RITA: You’re an idiot.
CHARLIE: Ok, now who’s hurting?
RITA: (Raises her hand.) I will smack you…
CHARLIE: Okay! Geez… (Exits)
RITA: (To door) David, the great Moronicous (Mor-oni-kus) has left the building. Will you please come out and talk to me?
DAVID: (Chuckles) Moronicous? That’s pretty funny.
RITA: Well, come out and at least let me cheer you up.
David opens the door, but takes a few moments to come into the room.
RITA: That’s it, Hun. Come sit on the sofa with me for a few minutes. (She takes him by the arm and gently leads him to the sofa. She turns off the TV with the remote.)
DAVID: I may have to start calling Charlie, Moronicous. It’s so fitting. He once bought a live tuna and put it in our bathtub because he wanted fresh home made sushi.
RITA: I suppose it couldn’t get much fresher than that.
DAVID: Everything was good until he realized that the fish barely fit in our tub and that he was the one who had to kill it and filet it.
RITA: What did he do?
DAVID: What he always does. He asked me to take care of it. He wanted me to care for the fish...or filet it. I’m not sure which. Well, I (quote mark gesture) “took care” of it. I took the fish down to my favorite sushi place. They loved it. I got free sushi for a week. (Laughs slightly)
RITA: It’s good to see you laugh. So what’s going on with you?
DAVID: Oh…life, I guess. I got fired from another crappy job. It sounds completely egotistical, but they all seem to be beneath me. I mean I graduated in the top three percent of my class. You’d think I could get a job in the field that I spent four years studying.
RITA: What was your major?
DAVID: English…with an emphasis on poetry.
RITA: English. Did you consider teaching?
DAVID: I did teach for two years. I nearly had a nervous breakdown. Teaching poetry to high school students is like teaching piano to monkeys. They can produce some sounds, but Beethoven they aren’t.
RITA: I see what you mean. You should get a book of your poetry together and get it published.
DAVID: That’s easier said than done. Creative careers are in very cutthroat industries whether its music, art, acting or writing. I actually have two books finished, but I can’t get anyone to look at them.
RITA: How about a literary agent.
DAVID: I’ve called every agent’s number in the New York, San Francisco, and Chicago phone books, and they all had the same response. (Mimes a phone) “Oh, I already represent a poet…sorry…click.” There’s really only so much rejection a person can take in one lifetime. I know people that thrive on getting letters from agents and publishers letting them know they didn’t make the cut. They say it builds character and makes them strive to be better. Well, I’m not one of those people. I just want someone to recognize that I’m a great writer and I work my ass of for my art. Try explaining that to a twenty-two year old manager at Piggy’s Pizza.
RITA: You worked at Piggy’s Pizza? The one down on Mulberry?
DAVID: For three days. Apparently making pepperoni art on the pizzas was not in the employee handbook.
RITA: I would have totally loved some pizza art.
DAVID: I know, right! I was the pizza Picasso.
RITA: It sounds like you could benefit from a creative job that doesn’t require a whole lot of contact with the public, like a copy editor or something.
DAVID: (Pause) That actually sounds like a good idea. I’d probably grow to hate the work I was reading, but it might be a good way into the industry. (Turns to face her) You know, you’re a lot smarter than I thought you were.
RITA: What’s that supposed to mean?!
DAVID: Oh, uh…well, I see you with Charlie and, unfortunately, I overhear your conversations sometimes and I think, ‘She’s very pretty, but I feel my IQ slipping when I hear them talk.’
RITA: Well, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m actually pretty smart. Charlie’s vocabulary retention stopped somewhere around grade 9. If I get too…linguistically challenging he gets offended and thinks I’m trying to be smarter than he is.
DAVID: One doesn’t have to try very hard to be smarter than Charlie. When he first moved in, I tried to explain poetry and iambic pentameter to him and I swear I think it made his nose bleed.
RITA: (Laughs) I know. I told him I was taking a linguistics class and he thought it was a sex education course. He said, “I love doing that. Could you get me into that class?” I told him the class was full, to which his reply was, “I’m not surprised. Sex is awesome!”
DAVID: You’re much funnier than I thought you were too.
RITA: Well, you should have made an effort to get to know me.
DAVID: I don’t like to be a third wheel when you two are together.
RITA: Charlie’s not here now. (She touches his arm. He doesn’t move or speak.) David, are you okay?
DAVID: Yeah, sorry. I was thinking if Charlie walked in he might freak out.
RITA: (Takes his hand) He said he was going out for Chinese food. There isn’t a Chinese restaurant within a mile of here, so I think we’re safe for a while.
DAVID: It still makes me nervous to sit here with you. You being as pretty as you are makes me shy enough and now I know you’re smart too. If you like Monty Python then that’s the female trifecta for me.
RITA: Monty Python? A little bit. I did enjoy most of The Holy Grail movie, that’s about it though.
DAVID: Most of the Holy Grail…that’s something, I suppose.
RITA: (Moves closer to David) So, when was the last time you had a girlfriend, if you don’t mind me asking.
DAVID: I don’t mind at all. The last girl was Melanie. She was from Oregon originally. It was good for a while and then she turned possessive to a bizarre degree. I won’t go into details, but neither of us is allowed in the Taylor Food Mart again, (looks into the distance) and that poor check out girl. (Back to Rita) That was about three years ago.
RITA: It’s been three years since your last relationship? (She touches his hair and ear) You must have been so lonely. (No response) Are you okay?
DAVID: Sorry, I think I blacked out there for a second. What were you saying?
RITA: You must have been lonely.
DAVID: No, I have friends. We see movies and play cards. It fills the time pretty well, I guess.
RITA: I was actually thinking you might be lonely for…a softer companion.
DAVID: (sighs) You make me very nervous…a good nervous though. So, how long have you and Charlie been going out?
RITA: You’re very good at changing the subject.
DAVID: It’s a bad habit, my avoidance mechanism.
RITA: I’ll play along, then. It’s been two years since we first met. It’s been one of those horrible on again, off again things. Very tiring. After the gym today, though, I’m done with him. I deserve better.
DAVID: You sure do. Charlie’s a…self-centered…
RITA: Moronicous!
DAVID: Thank you. I’m having word finding issues today.
RITA: I know. I saw that thesaurus on your desk. (No response) Look, David, I have my days when everything comes crashing down around me and I think to myself, ‘There’s a tall building to jump off of or there’s a truck I can run in front of.’ But I get myself through it and pledge to myself that next time I feel that way, I won’t let it be so bad. I think we all get frustrated with something or other, but you can’t let it get you down this much.
DAVID: I suppose you’re right.
RITA: Of course I am. I told you I was smart didn’t I?
DAVID: I believe you did bring that up, Madam Egghead.
RITA: (Kisses him on the cheek and stands up) I’ll leave you my phone number if you need to talk to someone before Friday evening.
DAVID: What’s Friday evening?
RITA: That’s when we’re going out to dinner and a movie.
DAVID: Uh…I just lost my job. Can we wait until I have some income?
RITA: This isn’t the dark ages, David. I work for the city in the public works department. I would be honored if I could take you on a date.
DAVID: I humbly accept.
RITA: Good. Be ready at 6:30. I also have a used bookstore I need to show you.
DAVID: Used bookstore? You really are wonderful aren’t you?
RITA: Yes. See you Friday, David. (Exits)
DAVID: (Takes a few moments to think) God, she’s pretty. (Picks up the remote and turns on the TV. Charlie enters.) Sweet. The Holy Grail. (Grabs chip bag)
CHARLIE: Dude, I just saw Rita take off. I was hiding around the corner.
DAVID: Dude, shh…Monty Python. (Charlie sits beside David. They watch for a few moments. David laughs.)
CHARLIE: (Leans toward David) Man, I don’t get any of this.
DAVID: I know, Charlie. I know. (Pats his knee)
Fade to black.
Copyright © 2010 by Jonathan Elmore
by Jonathan Elmore
Copyright © 2010 by Jonathan Elmore
DAVID is a mid-thirties, strung out, intelligent college grad with no future…so he thinks. He sits at his cluttered desk writing a note. He needs a thesaurus.
CHARLIE is David’s athletic roommate. He is apathetic to David’s woes.
RITA is Charlie’s on/off girlfriend.
Setting is a desk center stage, a couch downstage right, an exit upstage right, and an exit to a bedroom upstage left.
DAVID: I am sad… (Looks up) sad…sad… (He sifts through the desk looking at each book he pulls out.) Dictionary…Book of clichés… (Beat. Puts it on his desk) that may come in handy later. (Keeps looking and finds a thesaurus.) Ah, thesaurus, my old friend. (He turns pages and finds sad.) Ssssssssad… (Mumbling with) Dejected, depressed, dispirited. (Sets book down and writes.) I am dejected and dispirited. My mind cannot wrap around this bad depression. (Looks up) Bad depression? Bad. (Picks up thesaurus and thumbs through it.) Bad… (Mumbles with) hurtful, depraved, oppressed! (Sets book down and writes) My mind cannot wrap around…no (erases) cannot circumnavigate this oppressive sadness. (Picks up the note and reads silently mouthing the words) Hmm…that’s pretty good. (Goes back to writing.) I have come to this place in my life, and soon my death, not by choice, but by chance. Lately…no (erases) Recently, I have had a few problems. (Looks up) Problems isn’t really the right word…shoot (Picks up thesaurus.) Pro….blem. Problem…query…de-si-der-a-tum? Yikes…issue. Eh, we’ll go with issue.
CHARLIE: (Enters eating potato chips) Hey. (David covers up his note and looks at him with suspicion. Charlie walks past the desk and sits on the sofa turning on the TV (audience) with the remote) What’s up?
DAVID: (Nonchalantly) Oh, nothing. What have you been up to today?
CHARLIE: (Eyes on TV/audience) I’ve been avoiding Rita. She’s on the warpath about something.
DAVID: Well, I’ve had the worst of all days. I got fired from a job again for having an argument with a monosyllabic mouth breather of a manager.
CHARLIE: Dude, you got fired from Office Warehouse? What the hell?
DAVID: I was merely pointing out that if their copy machines were to be rotationally shut off for six hours a day, the store would save hundreds on energy costs, wear and tear on the machine, and we wouldn’t pollute…
CHARLIE: Dude, shhhh. American Singer’s on.
DAVID: You have no…
CHARLIE: Dude, shh.
DAVID: (Angrily under his breathe) Insolent… (Goes back to writing)
CHARLIE: Ha-ha!! Check out that chick’s hair!
DAVID: I don’t participate in asinine television…
CHARLIE: (waves hand dismissively) Eh. She’s hot thought. She’s got a nice asinine.
DAVID: Could you keep it down? I’m trying to write.
CHARLIE: What are you writing?
DAVID: Uh…A…letter.
CHARLIE: To who?
DAVID: To whom.
CHARLIE: That’s what I said.
DAVID: (Gives up) It’s a…letter to the editor.
CHARLIE: I thought only old people wrote letters to the editor.
DAVID: First, that’s not true. Second, this is something that has been on my mind for a while.
CHARLIE: Ok, Singer’s back on. Shhh.
Knock at the door, David looks at Charlie, Charlie shrugs, David gets up to answer it.
DAVID: Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll get it. (Opens door and smiles) Rita! (Charlie grimaces and sinks into the sofa.)
RITA: Hey, David. Charlie here?
DAVID: But of course. (Bows and motions her into the room.)
RITA: Charlie, you think I don’t remember where you live? Why the hell didn’t you meet me at the gym like you said you were going to? I waited for two hours!
DAVID: Two hours? Charlie…for shame!
CHARLIE: Shut up, David. (Gets up to greet Rita) Rita, baby, I thought that we were meeting tomorrow.
DAVID: Why would you wait that long? I mean, logic would have you reason that after, say, thirty minutes he wouldn’t be showing up.
CHARLIE: Shut up, David…
RITA: (To Charlie) You leave David alone. (To David) It was my cardio day anyway.
DAVID: Ah.
RITA: David, dear, could you leave Charlie and me alone for a few minutes. I’d like to berate him for a little while.
CHARLIE: That sounds kinky. So, you’re not mad? (David and Rita look at each other in disbelief.)
DAVID: (To Rita) I’ll leave you to your monkey. (To Charlie) God help you, man. (Exits to his room.)
CHARLIE: (Watches David walk out.) What was that supposed to mean?
RITA: Well, Charlie, David knows that the word ‘berate’ means to scold for a length of time.
CHARLIE: I don’t like the sound of that. (Sits back down on the sofa)
RITA: Don’t worry. This will be short and sweet.
CHARLIE: Okay.
During the following rant, Charlie slowly sinks further and further into the sofa until he’s as small as he can be without being under the cushions.
RITA: You have taken advantage of my good nature for the last time. I cooked you beef Wellington. Beef freakin’ Wellington for your birthday and you didn’t bother to show up for it because your mommy wanted to see you. I payed the termination fee to my gym so I could join your gym to be closer to you during the week. I gave my cat to my neighbor because you said you were allergic. What the hell am I doing here? Is this the Rita Holloway one-way relationship?
CHARLIE: Heh heh…Say that three times fast…
RITA: Shut it!
CHARLIE: Sorry.
RITA: Where do I go from here? Why, the hell, didn’t you show up to the gym today? And don’t say (mockingly) ‘I thought it was tomorrow night.’ (Normal voice) We talked about it yesterday. We would meet tomorrow…which is today. You were supposed to be there today!
CHARLIE: I’m confused.
RITA: And that’s another thing. I don’t think I can dumb myself down for you anymore. I mean, I’m trying to have a relationship with you and have conversations with you and understand you, but sometimes you look at me like a dog looks at the Wall Street Journal. You have no idea what I’m saying and I’m just describing a trip to the bookstore.
CHARLIE: Well, you’re, like…smart and stuff. You use too many big words that I don’t have any idea what they mean.
RITA: Which is why I think we’re not as compatible as I once thought we were. You have the attention span of a twelve year old at the mall. (Pause) And you’re not that good in bed either.
CHARLIE: (Sits up straight) I take offense to that. I think I’m pretty good.
RITA: Well, thinking doesn’t make it so, Charlie.
CHARLIE: What’s that supposed to mean.
RITA: It means you need to gain a new perspective on your bedchamber abilities.
CHARLIE: (Slightly scared) Hey, I’m not really into chambers and that domination stuff. But, hey, if it turns you on, I’ll try it, I guess.
RITA: (Aside) I’m talking to a fence post. (To Charlie) You think that sports, frat parties and sex are all there is to life, but I need more. I need to have intellectual stimulation. (Silence from Charlie. Pause) Do you know what that means….
CHARLIE: Yeah! (Pause) Look if you’re looking for some Poindexter, then I ain’t your man. Maybe you should try a puss like David. He’s a book smart guy. Hell, he’s writing a stupid letter to the editor or something.
RITA: Seriously? What’s it about?
CHARLIE: I don’t know. He was working on it when I came in.
Rita looks on the desk and finds the letter and reads it.
CHARLIE: It’s probably something about the potholes on this street. He always complains about those.
RITA: Oh my god, Charlie. This is a suicide note.
CHARLIE: (Not believing her) What? No way. That guy’s not that freaky…although he did get fired from Office Warehouse today.
RITA: He got fired? He’s on the edge of a breakdown. (She crosses to David’s bedroom and knocks on the door.) David? (David opens it and steps out just enough to see him.)
DAVID: Hey…
RITA: David, are you okay?
DAVID: I guess. Why?
RITA: I found this. (She holds up the note.)
DAVID: (Shocked) Uh…what the…I… (He snatches note, closes the door and locks it.)
RITA: David, open this door. David you have to talk to me about this. (Pause) If you don’t talk to me you have to talk to someone. A suicide note is a cry for help. Charlie, say something.
CHARLIE: (Gets off the sofa, sets the chip bag down, and goes to David’s door.) David…buddy…you care if I have your stereo if you…?
RITA: CHARLIE!! (Slaps his shoulder. To the door.) David, don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot.
CHARLIE: Hey! (He goes back to the sofa and watches TV.)
RITA: David, talk to me.
(Throughout this conversation, David talks through the door.)
DAVID: I don’t need to talk to anyone, Rita. You may leave now.
RITA: I’m not buying it David. What’s the problem?
DAVID: (Sing song speaking) Nothing…I’m fine.
RITA: Again, David, I’m not buying it. Tell me what led you to write a suicide note.
DAVID: Um…It’s not a suicide note. It’s a…creative writing assignment.
RITA: Creative writing?
CHARLIE: That seems reasonable.
RITA: Ok? Where are you taking your writing class?
DAVID: The…uh…(inaudible mumbling)
RITA: Did you say the Community College?
DAVID: (Pause) Yes.
RITA: Then you must have Professor Campbell.
DAVID: (Pause. Hesitantly) Y-Yes.
RITA: That’s funny, David, because the creative writing professor at the Community College is Professor Gregory, not Professor Campbell. David, open the door and talk to me.
CHARLIE: Hey, American Singer’s over. I’m going to go get some sweet and sour chicken.
RITA: Are you serious? Your roommate is hurting and you’re going to get something to eat?
CHARLIE: (Pause) Yeah. You want me to bring you something?
RITA: No, I don’t want you to bring me something! Why don’t you just get the hell out of here?
CHARLIE: That’s what I’m trying to do!
RITA: You’re an idiot.
CHARLIE: Ok, now who’s hurting?
RITA: (Raises her hand.) I will smack you…
CHARLIE: Okay! Geez… (Exits)
RITA: (To door) David, the great Moronicous (Mor-oni-kus) has left the building. Will you please come out and talk to me?
DAVID: (Chuckles) Moronicous? That’s pretty funny.
RITA: Well, come out and at least let me cheer you up.
David opens the door, but takes a few moments to come into the room.
RITA: That’s it, Hun. Come sit on the sofa with me for a few minutes. (She takes him by the arm and gently leads him to the sofa. She turns off the TV with the remote.)
DAVID: I may have to start calling Charlie, Moronicous. It’s so fitting. He once bought a live tuna and put it in our bathtub because he wanted fresh home made sushi.
RITA: I suppose it couldn’t get much fresher than that.
DAVID: Everything was good until he realized that the fish barely fit in our tub and that he was the one who had to kill it and filet it.
RITA: What did he do?
DAVID: What he always does. He asked me to take care of it. He wanted me to care for the fish...or filet it. I’m not sure which. Well, I (quote mark gesture) “took care” of it. I took the fish down to my favorite sushi place. They loved it. I got free sushi for a week. (Laughs slightly)
RITA: It’s good to see you laugh. So what’s going on with you?
DAVID: Oh…life, I guess. I got fired from another crappy job. It sounds completely egotistical, but they all seem to be beneath me. I mean I graduated in the top three percent of my class. You’d think I could get a job in the field that I spent four years studying.
RITA: What was your major?
DAVID: English…with an emphasis on poetry.
RITA: English. Did you consider teaching?
DAVID: I did teach for two years. I nearly had a nervous breakdown. Teaching poetry to high school students is like teaching piano to monkeys. They can produce some sounds, but Beethoven they aren’t.
RITA: I see what you mean. You should get a book of your poetry together and get it published.
DAVID: That’s easier said than done. Creative careers are in very cutthroat industries whether its music, art, acting or writing. I actually have two books finished, but I can’t get anyone to look at them.
RITA: How about a literary agent.
DAVID: I’ve called every agent’s number in the New York, San Francisco, and Chicago phone books, and they all had the same response. (Mimes a phone) “Oh, I already represent a poet…sorry…click.” There’s really only so much rejection a person can take in one lifetime. I know people that thrive on getting letters from agents and publishers letting them know they didn’t make the cut. They say it builds character and makes them strive to be better. Well, I’m not one of those people. I just want someone to recognize that I’m a great writer and I work my ass of for my art. Try explaining that to a twenty-two year old manager at Piggy’s Pizza.
RITA: You worked at Piggy’s Pizza? The one down on Mulberry?
DAVID: For three days. Apparently making pepperoni art on the pizzas was not in the employee handbook.
RITA: I would have totally loved some pizza art.
DAVID: I know, right! I was the pizza Picasso.
RITA: It sounds like you could benefit from a creative job that doesn’t require a whole lot of contact with the public, like a copy editor or something.
DAVID: (Pause) That actually sounds like a good idea. I’d probably grow to hate the work I was reading, but it might be a good way into the industry. (Turns to face her) You know, you’re a lot smarter than I thought you were.
RITA: What’s that supposed to mean?!
DAVID: Oh, uh…well, I see you with Charlie and, unfortunately, I overhear your conversations sometimes and I think, ‘She’s very pretty, but I feel my IQ slipping when I hear them talk.’
RITA: Well, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m actually pretty smart. Charlie’s vocabulary retention stopped somewhere around grade 9. If I get too…linguistically challenging he gets offended and thinks I’m trying to be smarter than he is.
DAVID: One doesn’t have to try very hard to be smarter than Charlie. When he first moved in, I tried to explain poetry and iambic pentameter to him and I swear I think it made his nose bleed.
RITA: (Laughs) I know. I told him I was taking a linguistics class and he thought it was a sex education course. He said, “I love doing that. Could you get me into that class?” I told him the class was full, to which his reply was, “I’m not surprised. Sex is awesome!”
DAVID: You’re much funnier than I thought you were too.
RITA: Well, you should have made an effort to get to know me.
DAVID: I don’t like to be a third wheel when you two are together.
RITA: Charlie’s not here now. (She touches his arm. He doesn’t move or speak.) David, are you okay?
DAVID: Yeah, sorry. I was thinking if Charlie walked in he might freak out.
RITA: (Takes his hand) He said he was going out for Chinese food. There isn’t a Chinese restaurant within a mile of here, so I think we’re safe for a while.
DAVID: It still makes me nervous to sit here with you. You being as pretty as you are makes me shy enough and now I know you’re smart too. If you like Monty Python then that’s the female trifecta for me.
RITA: Monty Python? A little bit. I did enjoy most of The Holy Grail movie, that’s about it though.
DAVID: Most of the Holy Grail…that’s something, I suppose.
RITA: (Moves closer to David) So, when was the last time you had a girlfriend, if you don’t mind me asking.
DAVID: I don’t mind at all. The last girl was Melanie. She was from Oregon originally. It was good for a while and then she turned possessive to a bizarre degree. I won’t go into details, but neither of us is allowed in the Taylor Food Mart again, (looks into the distance) and that poor check out girl. (Back to Rita) That was about three years ago.
RITA: It’s been three years since your last relationship? (She touches his hair and ear) You must have been so lonely. (No response) Are you okay?
DAVID: Sorry, I think I blacked out there for a second. What were you saying?
RITA: You must have been lonely.
DAVID: No, I have friends. We see movies and play cards. It fills the time pretty well, I guess.
RITA: I was actually thinking you might be lonely for…a softer companion.
DAVID: (sighs) You make me very nervous…a good nervous though. So, how long have you and Charlie been going out?
RITA: You’re very good at changing the subject.
DAVID: It’s a bad habit, my avoidance mechanism.
RITA: I’ll play along, then. It’s been two years since we first met. It’s been one of those horrible on again, off again things. Very tiring. After the gym today, though, I’m done with him. I deserve better.
DAVID: You sure do. Charlie’s a…self-centered…
RITA: Moronicous!
DAVID: Thank you. I’m having word finding issues today.
RITA: I know. I saw that thesaurus on your desk. (No response) Look, David, I have my days when everything comes crashing down around me and I think to myself, ‘There’s a tall building to jump off of or there’s a truck I can run in front of.’ But I get myself through it and pledge to myself that next time I feel that way, I won’t let it be so bad. I think we all get frustrated with something or other, but you can’t let it get you down this much.
DAVID: I suppose you’re right.
RITA: Of course I am. I told you I was smart didn’t I?
DAVID: I believe you did bring that up, Madam Egghead.
RITA: (Kisses him on the cheek and stands up) I’ll leave you my phone number if you need to talk to someone before Friday evening.
DAVID: What’s Friday evening?
RITA: That’s when we’re going out to dinner and a movie.
DAVID: Uh…I just lost my job. Can we wait until I have some income?
RITA: This isn’t the dark ages, David. I work for the city in the public works department. I would be honored if I could take you on a date.
DAVID: I humbly accept.
RITA: Good. Be ready at 6:30. I also have a used bookstore I need to show you.
DAVID: Used bookstore? You really are wonderful aren’t you?
RITA: Yes. See you Friday, David. (Exits)
DAVID: (Takes a few moments to think) God, she’s pretty. (Picks up the remote and turns on the TV. Charlie enters.) Sweet. The Holy Grail. (Grabs chip bag)
CHARLIE: Dude, I just saw Rita take off. I was hiding around the corner.
DAVID: Dude, shh…Monty Python. (Charlie sits beside David. They watch for a few moments. David laughs.)
CHARLIE: (Leans toward David) Man, I don’t get any of this.
DAVID: I know, Charlie. I know. (Pats his knee)
Fade to black.
Copyright © 2010 by Jonathan Elmore