|Crocophile (standard:humor, 2251 words)|
|Author: Austen Brauker||Added: Oct 05 2010||Views/Reads: 1679/751||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A couples realizes that what is important in life, in the face of impending armageddon is each other...and the appropriate footwear.|
CROCOPHILE By Austen Brauker Characters: A man and a woman, Jorge and Martah, married couple, middle aged. Setting: suburbs, middle class home, living room area. Background sound: a humming noise that is constant and getting louder throughout the play, until later when it becomes very apparent-almost as loud as their voices.) INTRO SCENE: (they have the TV on, listening intently to a news broadcast, the man is watching out the window with a pair of binoculars. A loud explosion occurs from outside. Jorge ducks and then gets back up to peer through the window with the binoculars again. There is firelight reflecting off of his face, coming in through the window, along with occasional flashes of red and blue emergency lights and sirens. The television reports that there is “chaos in the streets”, “all airports are closed”, “the military is mobilizing to keep the peace in every major city in the country.” Martah is sitting in a chair, there is a small box next to her on the floor.) JORGE: There goes the Phillips boy. (Jorge watches him with the binoculars.) What's he think he's doing? ....He's climbing up the television tower....Got a gun and somethin' else...I can't tell what... maybe a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder. What does he...? MARTAH: (interrupting) Oh Jorge! I can't believe this is really happening. Its just...(she begins to cry into her hands.) JORGE: Wait Martah. Here comes somebody else....why, it's...it's Dan Melvin, the guy from the shoe store!...the place where they sell those god-awful crocs. I hate those damn things. Wouldn't be caught dead in them. (He takes his eyes away from the binoculars and looks at Martah.) They say the president owns a pair...but you know Martah, they aren't as comfortable as everybody says....in fact..... MARTAH: Oh Jorge, who cares!? (Martah is emotionally distraught, blotting her eyes with a tissue.) Look what's happening out there! How can you care about your stupid shoes at a time like this! (Martah cries again, into her cupped hands. She takes a small blanket from the back of the chair she is sitting in and covers the box next to her on the floor. ) JORGE: Well Martah, I'll have you know that a time like this is exactly when people should be thinking about their shoes. That's for certain. Shoes are an investment. In fact, at a time like this, something like a pair of shoes can make or break a man. (He looks back up at the tower.) Oh my god! The Phillips kid almost fell. See dear, right there is a perfect example. It looks like that Phillips boy doesn't even have his shoes tied. Here he is...tryin' to climb something like a television tower and doesn't even tie his shoes! Can you believe that! (Jorge is smug.) That's exactly what went wrong with this world, things like that. MARTAH: (sighs with disgust, changes her tone as she focuses on Jorge.) Jorge, you really are something else. Of all things... You're worried about whether or not that Phillips kid has his shoes tied or not. (She applies some lip stick.) Honestly, you amaze me Jorge. (She checks herself in the mirror.) The world-bank takes over global control, buys our military for their own police force...and here you are worrying about somebody's shoe bein' untied. That's just like you Jorge. (She wells up again with emotion before continuing.) Just like how you put everything we owned into that stupid money market. (then under her breath.) Shows how much you know about investment. JORGE: HA! His shoe just fell off. I told you! ......I told you!.....wait.....What's he doing now? ......(Jorge adjusts the binoculars) He's tryin' to get to his gun. Got his arm hooked over the bar. ...Holy crap, he's gonna fall I tell ya.....he's gonna fall....kids got one shoe on.... He's pointin' at somethin'? (Jorge lowers the binoculars to ground level where the Phillips boy is pointing his rifle). Oh my god. Its Professor Sneidel, you know, that teacher from over at the community college, remember him? He's got a Click here to read the rest of this story (196 more lines)
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