Dinner and a Show.

This post contains strong language. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing, you may want to pass on by- but if that's the case then really, what are you doing on the internet anyway?

SCENE I

Scene: Exterior of a slaughterhouse in the late morning. Two men sit leaning against it, eating chicken sandwiches. One, Lewis, is thin and small with disheveled dark hair. The other, Harij, is Indian, roughly the same build. Both are clad in uniforms of bloodstained coveralls. Above them on the wall is a poster featuring a smiling man in the same uniform with a whole, feathered, smiling chicken skewered on a fork. A caption reads “You killed it. Now enjoy it. Keep up the good work!” They sit in silence as they eat.

BUTTERTON
Struts into view with an unneeded decorated cane, his ample gut hidden beneath a ridiculously thick fur coat. He smiles down at the men with an obviously false gentility, speaking in a heavy Southern accent. How you likin’ them com-plee-mentry chicken sandwiches, boys?

LEWIS
Pretty sorry compensation for eliminating the insurance program.

BUTTERTON
Laughs and waves his hand dismissively. That’s the trouble with you boys: no head for business. Just like a kid. Doesn’t see how the toy works, just figures all he needs to do is wind it up. Well, let me tell you, there’s a whole mess of gears and springs inside that little doodad that the kid just can’t see. And he’s just like you. He shakes his head and laughs condescendingly Just like you. Won’t never understand.

LEWIS
Stares up at him with a vaguely annoyed expression Just like you won’t never understand the meaning of a double negative.

BUTTERTON
Unsure of what is being said, but figuring that he is perhaps being insulted. What’s that now?

LEWIS
Nodding to the man’s ostentatious garment Is that a new coat?

BUTTERTON
Brightening immediately, forgetting his concerns You noticed, heh? Well, damn right it is, boy. Had it sewn by one o’ them I-talian fellas. Those olive-pluckin’ fingers sure stitch pretty good too. ‘Course, I got all the fur myself.


LEWIS
‘Course. How many beavers have you got sewn together there?


BUTTERTON
Pridefully Not a one, boy! This is mink, lynx, wolverine, and Rutherford fox.

LEWIS
Rutherford fox?

BUTTERTON
Tha’s right. You ain’t never heard of it. He chuckles And you sure won’t now.

LEWIS
I suppose being singularly responsible for the extinction of a species does make a coat all the warmer.

BUTTERTON
Damn right, boy. Little fellas went to good use. Even made use o’ the little bastards still sucking on her teat. He sticks his hands into his pockets and pulls them out, proudly displaying them clad in a pair of mittens, each made from the stretched out, taxidermied body of a fox cub. He extends these and wiggles them in front of Harij’s face. Whaddya think Bhudda? You like ‘em?

LEWIS
He’s Hindu.

BUTTERTON
Laughs Don’t matter, they ain’t no different. Ah, bet you still don’t speak English, though, do you?

HARIJ
Looks up at Butterton with a smile

BUTTERTON
Smiling back at him. Well, good. Keeps you quiet, doesn’t it, boy?

HARIJ
Maintains his smile.

BUTTERTON
Laughs and looks back to Lewis. Make sure you and Buddha are back to work in five. And remember Tapping his cane against the poster. You killed it. He points to the sandwiches. So enjoy it. With a final wide smile he struts out of view.

LEWIS
Speaking as Butterton leaves, unable to hear him. See you later, you furry ball of idiot.

The pair finish their sandwiches. As Butterton exits, a commotion is heard on the opposite side of the scene (left). Lewis and Harij look up to see a pair of unwashed, grubby people move into view. There is one woman, Saffron, and one man, Sassafras. Saffron carries a battered wooden guitar while Sassafras carries a bundle of freshly picked daisies and dandelions. Both are wearing loose clothing consisting of frayed jeans, tie tied shirts, fringe, etc. Their hair is long and unbrushed and their bare feet are very dirty. They look as if they have just crawled out of a cow pasture or a forest. Lewis and Harij both stare. Saffron and Sassafras both come forward, kneeling on either side of Lewis and Harij. They lean in very close, causing Lewis to lean back.

SAFFRON
Speaking slowly Is this the place where you kill our chicken friends.

LEWIS
Nope. This is where we kill dumb animals and make them into food.

SASSAFRAS
Hey, that’s no way to talk.

LEWIS
Really? I do it all the time.

SAFFRON
You shouldn’t. It’s that sort of talk and thinking that’s brought us to this.

LEWIS
This being, what exactly?

SAFFRON
This being murder.

LEWIS
I just call it finger-lickin’ good dinner, but say it however you want.

SASSAFRAS
Smiles and reaches around Harij to stroke Lewis’s head. Shush, Brother. You don’t know what you’re saying.

LEWIS
Pulls back Listen, maybe if you weren’t bearded I would feel differently, but as it is, you need to at least tell me your name before you go petting me.

SASSAFRAS
Grinning with fascination and near pity Look at him… scared of human touch… how long has it been since you got hugged?


LEWIS
Leaning farther back. I could go on for quite a while longer, thank you.

SAFFRON
Aw, you’ll come around. My name is Saffron. She extends her arm to her companion. This is Sassafras.

SASSAFRAS
Nods with a slow smile.

SAFFRON
Pointing to Lewis’s chest where his name is embroidered And you’re Lewis. She reaches over to Harij and does the same. And you’re Harij.

HARIJ
Points at himself and smiles, his eyes bright as he nods.

SASSAFRAS
Still smiling. See? So now we know each other. He pulls the two men into a hug and Saffron wraps around them as well, holding them in from the other side.

BUTTERTON
Running back into view from the right, his immense girth holding him back as he waddles. What the hell are you hippies doin’!? Have your orgies someplace else, ya freaks! He raises his cane and whacks Sassafras on the head. And leave mah employees out of it!

SASSAFRAS
Lowering his head, remaining calm as Lewis breaks away, pulling Harij with him. Hey, man… come on…. Peace.

BUTTERTON
Brandishing his cane. Ya want some peace? Ya’ll better get outta here ‘fore I break your skull into pieces!

LEWIS
Taking Sassafras by the shoulder and tugging him back. Back off, idiot. Are you trying to get killed?

SAFFRON
Rising to her feet and coming toward Butterton. You run this death mill?

BUTTERTON
Puffing out his chest as she approaches. Proudly so for nineteen years.


SAFFRON
Well…. That’s going to stop.

BUTTERTON
Stares at her incredulously, then guffaws in her face. Woman, there ain’t nothing you can do to put an end to this business. So let’s just save you the trouble and have you and your little monkey friend turn tail and head on home now.

SAFFRON
Shakes her head. No… we stay until the chickens come with us.

SASSAFRAS
Picking up the guitar and tuning it. Yeah, man… we’re staying here as long as that takes.

BUTTERTON
Stares at the hippies as Saffron sits down beside Sassafras as he begins to strum the guitar. He looks to his employees, hoping for some support. Lewis simply stares back at him. Harij sways back and forth, bobbing in time to the music with a smile on his face. Butterton shakes his head, hardly believing his eyes and ears. Back to work in three, boys. He turns and walks away.

SCENE II

Scene: Butterton’s office. Everything is upholstered in leather and every available surface serves as a platform to hold a taxidermied animal. The larger specimens stand on the floor. Butterton stands behind his desk, taking a swig from an ornate hip flask. Lewis and Harij sit in small leather chairs in front of the desk.

SAFFRON & SASSAFRAS
Their voices heard through the open window as they sing and play the guitar.
There are chickens in the trees,
that is where they ought to be.
Won’t you let them soar the breeze?
Let our chicken friends fly free!
There are chickens-

BUTTERTON
Slams the window, cutting them off and grumbling Goofy bastards… He mutters and shakes his head, turning back to his employees. Alright, boys. We’re goin’ on two weeks dealing with these freaks. I just wanted to express a little gratitude. They may be annoying as all hell, but y’all ’ve kept up a steady production rate. So keep up the good work.

HARIJ
Points to his belly rubbing it hungrily and pantomimes eating a sandwich.


BUTTERTON
Laughs Ya hungry, Buddha? He pushes a plate of sandwiches across his desk to Harij

HARIJ
Takes the sandwich, eating with hungry relish

BUTTERTON
Looking to Lewis What are you mopin’ for? Take one.

LEWIS
No, thanks. I’m saving some room for later; I’m going to visit an old friend, she’s serving something nice and fresh, a dish called Hansel and Gretel.

BUTTERTON
Shoving the plate toward Lewis Can it, smartass. You’re either in here or you’re out there with those hippies. Ya want to find yourself a new job?

LEWIS
Rolls his eyes. Maybe I just don’t want to make a grown man cry again.

BUTTERTON
Laughing If that tree-huggin’ pussy can’t stand the sight of you eatin’ a perfectly good sandwich, that’s his problem. When did you get so sensitive, huh? You gonna go outside and sing to the flowers with your new friends?

LEWIS
Scowls at Butterton, but takes a sandwich

BUTTERTON
Looking satisfied That’s what I thought. Now remember, we’re getting a shipment of chickens tomorrow mornin’, so be here early. He sits down and turns his chair away from them, picking up the phone. They are clearly dismissed.

LEWIS
Stands up along with Harij, walking to the door. He sighs and hands his sandwich to Harij.

HARIJ
Takes the sandwich, biting into it with a smile.

SCENE III
Scene: Exterior of the slaughterhouse in the early morning, just prior to sunrise. Saffron and Sassafras sit off to the side, singing and strumming louder than ever.

LEWIS
Looking back at the singing pair and ranting to Harij, though he is speaking mostly to himself. He is unloading crates of clucking chickens from the back of a truck, stacking them offstage. They’re not doing anything? Why aren’t they doing anything?

HARIJ
Smiles at him and continues unloading chickens.

BUTTERTON
Struts toward Saffron and Sassafras with a pompous swagger. He is carrying a cardboard carton. He stops in front of the pair and smiles. Howdy there, y’all. The two stop singing and strumming and look up at him. Now, you two have been awfully reasonable these past few weeks- haven’t tried to start no riots, haven’t hurt nobody…. Hell, y’all haven’t even tried anything today. So, to thank you, I’ll give you just a little bit of what you want. You get a chicken. I’m settin’ this one free, just like ya’ll ‘ve been askin’ for.

SAFFRON
She and Sassafras are clearly thrilled. Oh, brother I knew you’d come around! You’ve really got a heart of gold!

BUTTERTON
Grinning and handing the box to her. Oh, I try, sweetie.

SASSAFRAS
Peace, man! Peace! I knew you felt it! He leans over the box with Saffron, pulling it open with her and peering inside. Suddenly his face falls and his eyes widen. He moves his hand to his gaping mouth, horrified by what he sees.

SAFFRON
Reaches into the box, moving slowly and reverently as she pulls out a whole roasted chicken. She looks up at Butterton, looking miserable and sickened and ready to burst into tears herself.

BUTTERTON
Guffaws. Be good to ‘im now. He went through a hell of a lot to get to you. He explodes into another burst of laughter and bends over, bracing himself against his knees as he shakes and the hippies cry, holding themselves and the chicken.

LEWIS
Not shocked by this, but truly angered by it, he stares for a moment before placing the crate of chickens he is holding back in the truck. He spins around and grabs the crate that Harij is holding, returning it to the truck as well. He runs inside the slaughterhouse and comes back carrying two crates at once. Harij only stands back and watches, intrigued by this. Lewis runs offstage to the front of the truck. A scuffle is heard as a man shouts “What the hell are you doing?!” and a loud thump is heard. The truck’s engine roars and the vehicle pulls away.

BUTTERTON
Stops laughing and straightens up, turning around and watching as the truck full of chickens drives away. His eyes bulge for a moment before he leans back and sprints forward as quickly as his bulging girth will allow him to move.

HARIJ
Watches this and finally shakes his head and laughs to himself.


SCENE IV
Scene: Exterior of the slaughterhouse, early afternoon. Sassafras sits petting the gently clucking chicken lying on his lap as Saffron looks up at the sky. They are passing a lit joint back and forth, smoking it slowly. Harij comes out of the slaughterhouse, coming to stand next to them. He holds his hand out and they pass the joint to him without a second thought. He sits down, smoking and passing with them for a few moments without any of them saying anything.

SAFFRON
Have they found him yet?

HARIJ
Speaking without an accent. Not yet. I’d give it a few hours though. There’s only so many places you can go with a truckful of chickens.

SASSAFRAS
Maybe he found a nice field somewhere to drop ‘em off…. Kinda like a chicken paradise, ya know? Blue sky, green grass… that’d be nice.

HARIJ
Not likely. They sit quietly for a few more moments

SAFFRON
So Butter’s pretty mad, huh?

HARIJ
Pissed. I’ve never seen him this angry.

SAFFRON
So what do you think’ll happen? To Lewis….

HARIJ
Oh, he’ll go to jail. Grand theft auto, assault on the driver, speeding, stealing all those chickens… He shrugs Yeah, he’s not getting out of this a free man.

SASSAFRAS
Huh…. Sucks, man… He pets the chicken some more, then looks up at Harij. Wanna hold him?

HARIJ
That’s a she. And no.

SASSAFRAS
Don’t you like him?

HARIJ
Her. And no.

SASSAFRAS
Aw, come on… Why not? Animals are just like people.

HARIJ
Exactly.

SASSAFRAS
Huh?

HARIJ
I hate people. Why do you think I let them think I couldn’t even speak English?

SAFFRON
Oh, hey…. You can.

HARIJ
Nods. Yeah. I grew up in Detroit. I’ve never even been to India. He shrugs. It’s better this way. No one bothers me. And don’t think I’d be talking to you either if you weren’t sharing this. He takes a final drag off the joint.

SASSAFRAS
You kinda seemed to like Lewis.

HARIJ
Yeah. He was a reasonable guy. Full of himself, but who isn’t? But then you two came around and got into his head. Now he’s fucked himself over and he’s a screwed pooch.

SAFFRON
So that must mean you don’t like us very much.

HARIJ
Shit, I hate the two of you. I don’t know if I could come up with two people that annoy me more.

SASSAFRAS
That’s awful harsh.

SAFFRON
Yeah… why do you hate us so much?

HARIJ
Because you don’t do shit. You’re just emotional heaps of wasted space. You say you care about all this nonsense, but you just sit here and sing about it. You’ve got some nice dreams, but you’re never going to see them realized. So it’s not as if I hate what you stand for. I just hate you because you’re so fucking useless. At least Lewis tried.


SASSAFRAS
Shrugs and returns to petting the chicken.

SAFFRON
Shrugs. Maybe… She pulls a small cloth bag out of her shirt and begins to assemble another joint. Would you like some more?

HARIJ
Standing up. Nah, I’m done… He looks to the cardboard box and points to it. You don’t want that, do you? Saffron and Sassafras both shake their heads. Harij picks up the box and walks offstage.

Fade out.

THE END.

Cookie

A little after midnight this morning I ate a cookie that I found in a trashcan. I'm glad that I can at least reflect on this and say without pause that this was not the lowest point of my life. And I'm sure lower moments are still over the horizon.

Boston

For someone who grew up living on the edge of a beaver pond, I think I've adapted pretty well to life in the city. To be fair, I'm not truly experiencing the complete brute force of it on my own. My college campus provides a very present cushion between myself and the world outside. Despite that, living here has definitely forced me to develop a bit. For the first few months, I would walk down Commonwealth Avenue thinking of all the fun I could have if all those people around me would just go away. There's a set of carved pillar that I've never passed by without a wistful look and a thought of how much I'd like to climb them. I generally plan to wait for a "Stand"-like plague to eliminate most of the population so that I can do so without being interrupted.

I experienced a shift in that line of thinking while eating a burrito about half a month ago. The man who had made it for me was surprisingly friendly and conversational. He had even managed to engage me in a conversation that didn't leave me feeling awkward or nervous (not an easy task). About four bites into the burrito, my teeth hit on something much too hard to belong among beans and cheese. It turned out to be a piece of plastic. I told the manager who happened to be at the register, then had another burrito made for me free of charge. So the friendly employee and I continued our conversation, talking about other horrible and terrifying foreign objects we'd found in food in the past, like glass in salad (or wasps in a pizza box, for that matter). And I didn't even care that I had nearly ingested a shard of plastic. I was downright glad. It had given me a chance to extend a spontaneous human interaction and made me realize how much I enjoy it. So I realized that I do like the city. I love the endless opportunities it gives for people to stumble into each other and do anything at all. This is a tad frightening when you consider the possibilities for harm that it allows, but beyond that, it's mind-boggling and fascinating.

Challenge Accepted

A little more than two hours ago, my best friend, Keira, and I went to visit our old high school and, seeing as we only graduated last May, not much had changed. That turned out to be more pleasant than dull, though, as we were able to pay a visit to our old English teacher, Mr. Zawada (I suppose I'm taking some liberties using your real name, but I'm not planning on posting anything about the omicide-hay or the immigration trouble, so rest easy). There was some discussion about college and careers and I had to make the unfortunate admission that I'm not really sure what I'm going to college for or what I hope to be doing in a few years. I mentioned my interest in English and history, but was quickly reminded that those are painfully broad fields. True enough. And, admittedly, I need to hone my skills in writing if I want to have any sort of success in those fields. We got to talking about blogging as a way to not only practice writing, but to share your thoughts and views with the world, provided you get past the initial awkwardness of actually telling people about your blog and having your writing scrutinized by them. The conversation ended with him issuing a mutual challenge to himself and to me to start our own blogs, then send each other the links. So with each other and Keira as readers, we're up to two followers already. Start strong. As you can see, Zawada, your challenge has been accepted. I'll hope to hear from you soon.

As for the title, I've discovered that staring at an internet page for fifteen minutes does not produce a sudden inspiration when trying to name your new blog. If anyone understands the reference, please let me know. Otherwise, just think of it as a metaphor for life. The pizza is the good part, the wasps are the nasty surprises. Deep stuff, man.