Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Untitled Play: Act 1 Scene 3 Draft 1

Scene 3 (Interrupted by the entrance of Brother 2 and Cousin 3)


Cousin 3: I dunno… this dumpster diving thing sounds dangerous.


Aunt: (overlapping when she sees Cousin 3 and walking over to him) Oh there he is! Let me see you.


Cousin 3: Hang on a sec Ma. I gotta go to the bathroom.


Mom: (overlapping) Oh my god, what a sight for sore eyes (gives her son multiple kisses) If I’d have known you’d be here so early I’d have had us wait to say Kiddush.


Son 2: That’s ok! We can always say it again!


Cousin 5: (finally giving a subtle glance up from her book) No you can’t, you only say it once.


Son 2: (enthusiastically) Hi there! How are you?? You never call me anymore! (tries to hug her, she moves out of the way)


Aunt: You can’t touch her now, she’s Shomer Negyia, it means no man can touch her until she gets married.


Son 2: Oh my god! That’s horrible!


Cousin: It’s what Hashem wants.


Son 2: Oh really? How’s God doin’?


Cousin 5: He’s great! He doesn’t judge me the way you do.


Son 2: Oh you can’t really believe that, can you?


Cousin 5: Of course I do.


Son 2: You know, you’re basically joining a cult...


Aunt: Yeah, but it’s our cult.


Cousin 5: MOM!


Aunt: Don’t mind her, this is just her teenage rebellion. Now stop avoiding me and say hello to your aunt (kisses him on the cheek). I hear your gay now.


Son 2: Yeah. For now...


Aunt: What? Is it like a shirt that you change every day?


Son 2: That’s what the Rabbis always told us.


Aunt: But your boyfriend, he seemed so Jewish! How could he possibly be a goy?


Son 2: You can always try to break us up.


Aunt: So men to you are like women and you can just go through them like water.


Son 2: C’mon, be fair to me. Every one of them was at least cattle.


Aunt: And at least they were kosher cattle. Well, I just want you to know that we’re all really proud of you for coming out. Even if your gay guy’s a goy.


Son 2: Yes. The goy guy’s a gay.


Aunt: So the gay boy’s a goy.


Son 2: Yes, the goy boy toy.


Aunt: Now let me see my boy. (grabs him for a hug) Oh my god you’re so handsome.


Cousin 3: I certainly think so.


Aunt: How was your trainride? What time is your wife getting in?


Cousin 3: She’s coming in with your other son, they should be here in about twenty minutes.


Aunt: Aren’t you ever scared that she might confuse the two of you?


Cousin 3: Not really. I’m three years older than him.


Aunt: I’m your mother and once the two of you were fully grown had to look at your teeth to tell you apart.


(enter Dad, Uncle, and Son 1)


Dad: You couldn’t have waited 20 minutes and all take a cab together?


Son 2: You can afford to pay for both…


Cousin 3: We couldn’t all have fit in one cab with the luggage; and I paid for the cab.


Dad: Well anyway, come here my son (gives his son a big hug and a kiss) I love you. And I just want you to know that we’re all very proud of you for coming out.


Son 2: (Waiting for it…) But....


Dad: (slaps him upside the head) Yes, but!… You’re going to break up with this goy tomorrow and I’m gonna find you a nice gay Jewish mixer.


Son 2: That’s very thoughtful of you Da...


Dad: (interrupting) You should have thought of your poor father and his ulcer! However long your mother was going to live you took ten years off her life! You sh...


Uncle: (interrupting, stepping between them) Easy there. Anyway, everything he said but without the slap. (hugs and kisses his nephew)


Son 2: I figured.


Dad: And nu? (going up to his nephew) How’s my favorite son? If only my real children had half your sechel for anything that really matters!


Son 1: (irritatedly sarcastic) Thanks Dad.


Dad: What? All I want is for you to make money, is that such a crime?


Son 1: And all I want is to spend your money.


Dad: I know you do. That’s why you’re going to put us all in the poorhouse before you move out of this one.


Son 1: Do you promise? That would be delightful.


Dad: (turns around to leave room before things get ugly. As he leaves, he exclaims with both hands) Ochen vey! I have a son!


(Exit Dad)


Cousin 3:  Well his kids are great. (puts arm on Son 1’s shoulder) I believe in them, even if they don’t.


Son 1: Oh go lose another million dollars!


Cousin 3: Well that’s the difference between me and my brother. When you’re in finance, you lose a million dollars every day. When you’re in computers like him, you make it.


Mom: Oh he’s not doing that well is he?


Cousin 3: Give him another few years and he’ll invent the robots that kill us all.


Son 1: And of course they’ll start with the Jews.


Mom: Why would they do that?


Son 1: I dunno, but of course his invention would beg the question: would killer robots be good for the Jews or bad for the Jews?


Aunt: I’m sure I’m not the only one who wishes you wouldn’t make fun of our religion so much.


Son 1: Don’t mind her. She’s still mad about my idea of the Holocaust themed Bar Mitzvah party.


Cousin 3: Oy gevalt.


Son 1: The place cards would all have yellow stars on them and you could be seated at the Bergen-Belsen table or the Majdanek table.


Cousin 3: Well (shrugs), it is very creative.


Son 1: Isn’t it? I really wish everyone in this family would stop acting like they don’t hate Bar Mitzvah parties so much


Mom: I think it’s nice to see all your family and friends together to celebrate.


Son 1: Well at my bar-mitzvah all our family and friends got together to watch Dad make fun of me. So I wouldn’t know.


Mom: You’ll appreciate them when your children get bar-mitzvahed.


Son 1: Let’s face it Mom, I’m never going to have children. Sorry about that.  


Aunt: Of course you are. All you need is one woman to pick you out of a lineup and say ‘this is the guy for me.’


Son 1: How romantic.

Uncle: That's what your Aunt did. Do you really think I had any success until she glommed onto me?


Son 2: You just need to get out of this cage and into the real world. You can always join me in New York. There’s no end of women up there!


Son 1: And get set up with all your sloppy seconds? I think I’ll pass.


Son 2: There are millions of women in New York I haven’t slept with.


Son 1: What about men?


Son 2: Gimme two years…


Son 1: Y’know, it really is unfair. You got the charisma, the looks, the competence. All I got was the brains and you were still the one who went Ivy.


Son 2: You still could if you wanted to.


Son 1: With my standout resume?


Son 2: Everybody lies on their resume. It shouldn’t be too hard to fake one.


Son 1: So I’m going to fake a resume to get into Harvard just to find out that the reading is all jargon and the courseload is going to give me a nervous breakdown? I’ll pass.


Son 2: It’s gotta be better than here.


Aunt: For him? Everything’s better than here.


Mom takes the second turkey out of the oven and makes announcement that dinner is served…


(everybody leaving except Cousin 3 and Brother 1)


Cousin 3: So how you been feeling?


Brother 1: The usual. It’s touch and go every day. Every time I’m happy, Dad notices it and makes sure to find a way to make me miserable again. I’m sure he feels the same way about me.


Cousin 3: I know you’ve heard this a zillion times but…


Brother 1: I know. I need to move out, but I gotta be ready for it.


Cousin 3: A lot of things will improve when you do.


Brother 1: If I do…


Cousin 3: You will.


Brother 1: Who knows if he’ll pay for the rent.


Cousin 3: Of course he will.


Brother 1: I don’t know that. And what happens if he doesn’t, or if he stops. I get evicted and Dad might not let Mom take me back in.


Cousin 3: That’s nonsense.


Brother 1: (agitated, slightly raised voice) You don’t know that!


Cousin 3: (calming) I’m just trying to help.


Brother 1: (collects himself) I appreciate that. Really I do.


Cousin 3: Are you taking your medication?


Brother 1: Of course.


Cousin 3: We should go in. You know I’m here no matter what if things go wrong tonight, and I’m always just a phonecall away.


Brother 1: I do, and thank you for that. I can’t imagine it’s easy.

Cousin 3: Don’t worry about it. I work on Wall Street, I see bigger psychopaths every day.

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