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    Three One-Act Plays

    Page 2
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    Your life—your autobiography, whatever. I think I can show you step by step—

      FRED

      Logic can be very deceptive. You stole my life, you stole my soul.

      JIM

      I don't need your life. I have a fine life of my own.

      FRED

      Who are you to say you don't need my life?

      JIM

      I didn't mean to insult you.

      FRED

      Look, I realize you're under personal strain.

      JIM

      I am, yes.

      FRED

      And she's quite late—that's a bad sign.

      JIM

      I'm surprised. She's usually punctual.

      FRED

      She must sense something's up. I'd keep alert if I was you.

      JIM

      I am. I just want to point out that my film—

      FRED

      Our film—

      JIM

      The film—is it OK if I say the film? The film is about the evils of one particular mental institution which I happened to set in New Jersey.

      FRED

      Been there, done that.

      JIM

      But surely many people had similar experiences. This could be their story as easily.

      FRED

      No—no—you heard me tell it. I even said to Big John Kelly it would make a swell film—especially the part where the protagonist lights the fires.

      JIM

      Is that what happened in your life?

      FRED

      You know the details.

      JIM

      I swear I don't.

      FRED

      I was under instructions to burn down several buildings.

      JIM

      Instructions, from who?

      FRED

      The radio.

      JIM

      You heard voices over the radio?

      FRED

      Do I hear the barest trace of skepticism in your voice?

      JIM

      No—

      FRED

      I was not always—whatever was their term—

      JIM

      Paranoid schizophrenic?

      FRED

      What'd you say?

      JIM

      I was trying to be helpful.

      FRED

      Everyone's so damn technical. That's all semantics. It used to be dementia praecox—actually that's prettier. It's worse than semantics, it's cosmetics. A girl brings her fiance home to meet her parents and says, folks, this is Max, he's a manic-depressive. You can imagine how they take it. Fantasies of their darling child wed to a guy who on Monday tries to jump off the Chrysler Building and Tuesday tries to buy every item in Bloomingdale's—ah, but say, this is Max—he's bipolar. It sounds like an achievement—like an explorer—bipolar like Admiral Byrd.

      No, Jim—they diagnosed me in more prosaic terms. Not screwy or off his rocker—we're not talking vaudeville here— they said Fred Savage is homicidal—an unpredictable psychopath.

      JIM

      Homicidal?

      FRED

      Don't you just love labels?

      JIM

      Er—look, Fred, aware as you are of being delusional you can then see why I might think your theory, that I took your idea, may not be based on reality.

      FRED

      Who's to say what's real? Are we particles or rays? Is everything expanding or contracting? If we enter a black hole and the laws of physics are suspended, will I still need an athletic supporter?

      JIM

      Fred, you're obviously an educated man—

      FRED

      Phi Beta Kappa. Brown University. I can read Sanskrit. Ph.D. in Literature. Dissertation on the Positive Results of the Triangular Tension Between Goethe, Schopenhauer and Schopenhauer's Mother. So what was I doing in an ad agency, you ask? Having nervous breakdowns—not just because the hacks failed to see the brilliance of my Extra Strength Excedrin concept but because they were blind to the originality of my thought in general. Example: eight whores are sitting around in a brothel. A john comes in and surveys them up and down. He finally passes them all up and selects the umbrella stand in the corner. He goes down the hall with it in his arms, takes it to bed and has intense and passionate sexual intercourse with it. Cut to him driving off in a VW Beetle and we flash on the screen— Volkswagen—for the man with special taste. God, how they hated that one.

      By now I was in and out of institutions like I had a season ticket. And when I lost my job, my girlfriend, Henrietta, who I believe only put up with me because she had a severe disorder of her own, which might charitably be characterized as thermonuclear masochism, kicked me out.

      Yes, Jim—I was very upset. I wept. Salty tears descended these rubicund cheeks—and in an effort to woo her back I went searching for an appropriate offering with which to hopefully mollify her newly discovered feelings of disgust for me. Aware of her taste for antique jewelry I surmised an old pin or Victorian brooch might turn the trick, and having selected just the right one in a Third Avenue antique shop, I by chance came across a very stylish 1940s radio, perfect for my kitchen. Red plastic it was—a Philco. And when I got it home and tried it out, I was surprised to hear an announcer's voice commanding me to burn down the very ad agency I had formerly worked for. It was the most fun I've ever had. Am I losing you?

      JIM

      This is a very sad story.

      FRED

      I loved that girl, Henrietta. And while her attention deficit disorder made any conversation between us longer than forty seconds impossible, something in our contact buoyed my spirits. That's why I can empathize with your pathetic love life.

      JIM

      My love life is just fine.

      FRED

      Jim—you're talking to your writing partner.

      JIM

      You're not my writing partner.

      FRED

      You need a collaborator.

      JIM

      I've never collaborated in my life.

      FRED

      You're good at the nuts and bolts—but you need someone who can light a fire. I'm an idea man. OK, some may be a little avant-garde for Mr. and Mrs. Front Porch.

      JIM

      I have my own ideas.

      FRED

      If you did you wouldn't have swiped mine.

      JIM

      I didn't swipe it.

      FRED

      Genius is in the chromosomes. Did you know my personal DNA glows in the dark?

      JIM

      What makes you think I'm so uninspired?

      FRED

      I think you're very—professional. It's very solid—notice you do a lot of adaptations—not originals—I, on the other hand, am a true original—like Stravinsky—or ketchup. That's why my idea was the first thing you ever did that meant anything. It had juice—it had spark.

      JIM

      I thought of it in the shower.

      FRED

      (turning on him violently)

      Don't give me that jive! I want my half!

      JIM

      For Christ's sake, stay calm.

      FRED

      And don't tell me your love life's fine. Because what the hell are you doing sneaking around on Lola?

      JIM

      That's not your affair.

      FRED

      No, it's your affair.

      JIM

      I'm not having an affair.

      FRED

      What's wrong with Lola?

      JIM

      Nothing.

      FRED

      Apart from a certain—what is it I mean—is it a ferret?

      JIM

      Keep your mouth shut. You're talking about the woman I love.

      FRED

      What's wrong there?

      JIM

      Nothing.

      FRED

      Jim.

      JIM

      Nothing.

      FRED

      Jim, c'mon.

      JIM

      It was fine till we had the twins.

      FRED

      Right—two perfect look-alikes—a grizzly omen.

     
    JIM

      They're adorable boys.

      FRED

      Boys—at least twin girls you can dress cute.

      JIM

      They're cute—they're cuddly—they're—

      FRED

      Exactly identical?

      JIM

      So what?

      FRED

      And they both have Lola's gerbil-like visage?

      JIM

      Before they came we had a perfectly good marriage.

      FRED

      Says who?

      JIM

      I'm telling you, it was fine.

      FRED

      Just fine? Not great?

      JIM

      We shared a lot of interests.

      FRED

      Name two.

      JIM

      Weekends in Connecticut and macrobiotic food.

      FRED

      I'm falling asleep here.

      JIM

      We liked to scuba dive and discuss the great books.

      FRED

      You discussed books underwater?

      JIM

      And she plays piano and I play baritone sax.

      FRED

      Thank God it's not the other way around.

      JIM

      Go ahead—make fun of me.

      FRED

      What about your sex life?

      JIM

      That's none of your business.

      FRED

      Those two big front teeth of hers—do they hurt?

      JIM

      Why must you be a vulgar smart-ass?

      FRED

      I'm trying to grasp your situation. How often did you make love?

      JIM

      Often. Till the twins were born.

      FRED

      I'd say you were basically a missionary position man, am I right?

      JIM

      (annoyed)

      We did our share of experimenting.

      FRED

      What do you call experimenting?

      JIM

      Why must you know?

      FRED

      We're a team.

      JIM

      (annoyed)

      That's right.

      (slight pause)

      We had a threesome once, OK?

      FRED

      Who was the other woman?

      JIM

      It was a guy.

      FRED

      Are you bisexual?

      JIM

      I never touched him.

      FRED

      Whose idea was the threesome?

      JIM

      Hers.

      FRED

      I wonder why.

      JIM

      We'd seen it on the porn channel one night.

      FRED

      You watch that consistently?

      JIM

      Of course not. But sometimes you can get some good ideas.

      FRED

      Aha—so you do use other people's ideas.

      JIM

      And once we did it at her parents' house during the Thanksgiving dinner.

      FRED

      Did the other dinner guests look up from their turkey?

      JIM

      We were in the bathroom!

      FRED

      So there was a certain spontaneity.

      JIM

      I don't know why you think I'm so lackluster.

      FRED

      Did Lola have an orgasm?

      JIM

      I don't think I'll dignify that with an answer.

      FRED

      They have been known to fake it, you know.

      JIM

      Why on earth would she fake it?

      FRED

      Bolster your confidence. She doesn't want you to know you're not satisfying her.

      JIM

      I'm completely secure about my sexual prowess.

      FRED

      You know what they say.

      JIM

      What?

      FRED

      A dog doesn't see its own tail.

      JIM

      What the hell does that mean?

      FRED

      Maybe you think you're better than you are.

      JIM

      That's not true.

      FRED

      Then why would Lola fake it?

      JIM

      You said she faked it.

      FRED

      That's the message I'm getting.

      JIM

      What message?

      FRED

      From the top of the Empire State Building. I'm feeling those rays—those electrical charges from the big antenna on the Empire State Building and all those photons are saying—Lola was pretending to come.

      JIM

      Hey look, I'm trying to have a rational—

      FRED

      And then came the twins—David and Seth.

      JIM

      Carson and Django.

      FRED

      Really?

      JIM

      Lola's a big fan of Carson McCullers—

      FRED

      And you play jazz so—

      JIM

      So they weren't conventional names.

      FRED

      And you love them.

      JIM

      I'm crazy about them. But Lola's too crazy about them. Suddenly everything changed—it all became about the twins— there was never any time for me anymore—for us.

      FRED

      No more underwater discussions of Proust.

      JIM

      Naturally the sex fell off.

      FRED

      And you started cheating.

      JIM

      Yes—yes—

      FRED

      Hmmm … that explains a lot. Look—take my advice, call it quits with your mistress—it can only lead to heartache.

      JIM

      I don't need your advice. That's what I planned to do today. If she ever gets here.

      FRED

      Maybe she senses you want it over so she's not coming.

      JIM

      She doesn't have a clue. She'll be stunned.

      FRED

      Oh great, I think I'll stick around and watch this.

      JIM

      What the hell am I doing having an affair? Six lousy months of dark restaurants, dingy bars, and cheap hotel rooms. Not to mention the furtive phone calls and the tension and self-hate.

      FRED

      What does your psychiatrist say?

      JIM

      He said stop.

      FRED

      And you—

      JIM

      I stopped—seeing the psychiatrist.

      FRED

      It's just as well, most of them have hidden tape recorders.

      JIM

      Last night I came home and I saw Lola sitting on the sofa, curled up like—like—

      FRED

      A tiny guinea pig?

      JIM

      I wasn't going to say that. Like a sweet, decent woman who's been my closest friend my whole life.

      FRED

      Did you ever lead this woman on? Make any promises, tell her you loved her or that you might leave your wife?

      JIM

      Absolutely not—in no way—not for a second.

      FRED

      I don't know why, but I'm sensing a vibration that says maybe you did.

      JIM

      That's nonsense.

      FRED

      Um, I don't know …

      JIM

      She wanted me to go to the Caribbean with her—for five days. I was to lie to Lola and say it was a business trip.

      FRED

      And you agreed?

      JIM

      Not exactly—I said I'd think about it. It was a moment of weakness. Our clothes were off and I'd had three margaritas and there was so much salt on the rim of the glasses and I'm on a salt-free diet … So I suddenly got a sodium rush.

      FRED

      (folding paws downward in front of him, mimicking Lola)

      But when you got home and saw your precious darling …

      JIM

      Exactly—it was at the moment I was supposed to lie that I knew that I loved Lola despite all our problems and I wa
    s a fool.

      FRED

      This could get ugly.

      JIM

      Nothing's getting ugly. She's an adult and I'm an adult.

      FRED

      You said she was headstrong.

      JIM

      I never said any such thing.

      FRED

      I heard some voice say it, I thought it was yours.

      JIM

      Look, these things happen. People break off their affairs every day—don't they?

      FRED

      So that's why you picked such a secluded spot—you're anticipating a scene.

      JIM

      Hey look—why am I discussing women with you? Your view of everything is skewed.

      FRED

      I was married once.

      JIM

      You were?

      FRED

      I don't remember much about it—all that AC/DC through my head plays havoc with your memory but I do recall she was forever dialing 911.

      JIM

      You know what? Here's what I think—

      FRED

      Come in.

      JIM

      I think you should just leave and get back on your medicine. I'm not fooling—I'd say megadoses if possible—I don't want you around here when she comes, I can manage by myself.

      FRED

      OK, fine. Then let's settle our business and I'm history.

      JIM

      What business? We have no business. I didn't steal your idea.

      FRED

      Maybe on the next one you could make it up to me with an adjusted fee and top billing.

      JIM

      There is no next one. I don't collaborate. I work alone. I—oh—

      (notices Barbara approaching)

      Oh oh … oh … oh … walk away …go, go …

      FRED

      You're all white.

      JIM

      She's coming.

      FRED

      All right, don't panic.

      JIM

      You got me so distracted.

      FRED

      All I said was I think you're in for rough going.

      JIM

      Why do you say that?

      FRED

      Empire State Building.

      JIM

      No, it's going to be fine. I practiced my speech in the shower. I was in there an hour and a half. I know exactly what I'm going to say. Get out of here!

      (Barbara is there now.)

      BARBARA

      Sorry I'm late. Who's this?

      JIM

      Oh—I don't know …

      (Jim gesturing with his head, trying to signal Fred to leave.)

      BARBARA

      Are you having a neck spasm?

      JIM

      (hands Fred money)

      Er—here's the buck you asked for, fella, go get a square meal— good luck, buddy … ha, ha …

      FRED

      Fred. Fred Savage. I'm a friend of Jim's.

      BARBARA

      You didn't say anything—

      JIM

      He's kidding.

      FRED

      I'm his writing partner.

      BARBARA

      Writing partner?

      FRED

      We collaborated on The Journey —it was my idea—he did the actual screenplay.

      (calling off)

     


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