man vs. man: a play

A man walks into a dinner, holding a gun.

Man: Who do you love? (pointing a gun at another man)

Another Man: I love her. (pointing at a woman)

Man shoots woman.

Man: Who do you love? (pointing a gun at a different man)

Different Man: I love her. (pointing at another woman)

Man shoots another woman.

Man: Who do you love? (pointing a gun at me)

Me: I love you.

Man shoots man.

me, disappeared

In the morning, the roof of my house was gone.

At least I can see the sky, I thought. It's going to be a wonderful day. The sun was bright, the sky blue. The next night, though, it rained so I moved down to he first floor. In the morning my second floor was gone. My friend came over.

"What happened to the second floor?" he asked.

"Not sure," I said. "How about some tea?"

We drank tea.

The next morning the north wall was gone, and the morning after my entire house was gone. I slept on the ground that night, in a sleeping bag my friend gave me. When I woke the following morning I was gone too. My friend came over.

"You disappeared too?" he asked.

"So it seems," I said.

"Say, do you have any tea?" he asked.

We went to the store since I was out of tea.

janitor speak

Scrapping the blood from the cracks in the floor, I see you for the first time. I'm afraid you won't like me but I talk to you anyway.

"I'm afraid you wouldn't like me," I explain.

You say that's perfectly normal and that even though you did just meet me you really do like me.

I say, "I'm worried you're not even listening right now."

"Again, I think that's normal," you say. "But I really am listening."

"I think if I told you that I don't really like you and am not really listening to you, you'd walk away and forget about me," I say.

"I think I would too," you say.

noise missions

I don't like the Mission. At the end of the day, as I'm walking home, I hear noises. Strange noises. When I look around, for the strange noises, I see no one or anything that could be making such noises.

I tell my friends, and they ask me to describe the strange noises.

I say, "They're just strange, that's all."

The next day, as I'm walking home, I hear the strange noises again, but somewhere deep down it occurs to me that maybe the noises aren't so strange after all.

winter light

Your voice found its way to me, keeping me awake. You said, "I can't sleep without you." I heard birds calling out to me in the distance, and a bright light filtered in through the trees. "I miss you," you said, finding me again. I miss you too, I said. Standing in your light, I wondered if you could hear me.

hide and seek

Hiding. We're downstairs in your parent's basement. It's dark.

"We're safe when the lights are off," you say.

I ask about the party upstairs, and you mumble something. I ask when your parents are getting home, and you say you don't know. I ask lots and lots of questions, and you kiss me to shut me up. When we're done kissing, you say you want a drink, so I go upstairs to get you a drink. When I return the lights are still off.

"I told them to turn the music down," I say.

You kiss me over and over again, then you whisper in my ear: "Can you see in the dark?"

I shake my head, but you can't see me.

my father, the ghost

One day my mom takes me downtown to the bank to meet my father, the banker. He smiles when he sees us. Son, my bank has more money than any other bank in the world, he explains. He gives me a dollar in quarters, and mom and I go for ice cream.

Another day, my father works as a doctor. I get sick with a fever, so he rushes home to see me. Smiling, he takes my temperature and wipes the sweat off my forehead. I enjoy his smile tremendously.

Actually, my father's not a banker or a doctor. I'm not sure what he is or isn't. Perhaps he's a fisherman, and he takes me on his big boat. Or maybe he works in a library and brings me a new book to read every night. In some other world, my father fights evil, capitalist bankers with a sword and brings home flowers for mom. My father, the superhero.

My father is neither this nor that. I really do see him at the bank, the doctor's office, and the library; on a big boat; and in my dreams, fighting capitalism. I see him everywhere, in fact. But, if you see him, please tell him I just want my father, the father.

woman of the day

I'm a man, and I have needs. Yesterday, I'm walking to work. The sky is blue and looks like the sky. The grass is green, looking like grass. The tress, flowers, and plants -- all looking like trees, flowers, and plants. It's early. On my way to work I find a ten dollar bill on the ground, then run into an old friend I haven't seen since high school.

"Hello, old friend," I say. "I haven't seen you since high school. You've aged, but you still look like you -- as you should."

"Hello," my old friend says.

My old friend leads me back to her apartment. We talk. She makes me coffee, and we have sex. On my way to work again, I notice that the ten dollar bill is gone and ninety dollars is missing from my wallet. Everything still looking like it should--the sky, grass, trees, flowers, and plants, respectively. At work I can't help but think of my old friend. She hasn't changed since high school, but that's okay, because I like her just the way she is -- as she should be.

what i say to myself: a love story

Walking down Haight Street. After grabbing a chocolate croissant, I talk to a bum about heaven and finding the path of least resistance. I give him a bite of my croissant, because he asks nicely. There's dew on the ground, and giant chess pieces float above me like clouds. Every now and then a piece moves. I wonder who's winning.

I say goodbye to the bum. Walking again, down a hill, I run into myself. Myself is wearing a colorful flannel and skintight jeans. Cigarette in hand. Myself is looking real good.

I offer myself a bite of croissant, because I think he may ask nicely. Myself says no. I shut my eyes.

"I love you," myself says.

I feel his words -- I mean really feel his words. Like nothing before.

"I love you too," I say.

When I open my eyes, myself is gone. I finish my croissant, because it looks so nice, then look to the sky: Checkmate.

smashed, unsmashed, resmashed

My cell phone and a five dollar bill are on the nightstand. Putting them both in my pocket, I think really hard about the nightstand. I hate it, I conclude. It reminds me of my ex-girlfriend. In fact, I think she may have even given me that nightstand when we broke up. I feel around my pocket, pressing my hand against my phone and five dollar bill, and pull out an axe large enough to chop down a giant Big Basin redwood. I could do a lot with that wood, like build a bridge or a really tall building, then sell the remains to a paper company.

I continue thinking about the wood obtained from a gigantic Big Basin redwood as I chop up the nightstand. I hack it into little, tiny pieces.

Afterward, I return the axe to my pocket, next to my phone and five dollar bill, and smoke a few cigarettes, sitting on the chopped wood, atop my thrown. A few cigarettes done, I throw them and the hacked pieces of wood out the window and wait for my new girlfriend to come home from Big Basin.

She saunters in about thirty minutes later, whistling some tune. I go to greet her and I see the nightstand I just smashed thirty minutes ago, unsmashed. She has a big smile on her face.

"I found this nice nightstand out front," she says.

"Oh good," I say. "We need one of those."

She sets the nightstand down. Her smile disappears.

"I also found your cell phone out front too," she says. "It's smashed. Did you drop it out the window?"

new years eve confused

Front row seats for new years eve. Waiting for the fireworks. You show up sometime after nine. I call you Lily.

"Lily," I say, "are you ready to kiss me?"

"My name's not Lily," you say, "but I'll still kiss you. Just say when and where." You brush the hair out of your eyes.

Dick Clark's on TV, but we're nowhere near a TV. Instead, I look into your eyes. They're green, blue, brown, and red. In the right light, they sometimes look gray, like the insides of some TVs.

"Lily," I say, "I think we need to buy a TV."

"My name's not Lily, but I'll buy you a TV anyway."

There's a ball dropping somewhere, but we can't see it. Instead, I ask you to sit on my lap and whisper something in my ear. You countdown from 10 to 0. At zero, you look into my eyes.

"In the right light," you say, "I can see Lily in your eyes."

I think you're right.

"Lily," I say. "I think I love you."

"I love you too," Lily says.

We hold each other into the night, way past midnight. Lily falls asleep around three. When morning comes, we're still in the same moment. The skies are gray.

Still asleep, I wonder what color Lily's eyes are.

really, really grown up

First day of work. You wear jeans and roll a tight spliff on the bus while the other commuters stare at you. You smile proudly. I got a job at the bank, you say. You transfer to a streetcar and take that downtown. With the spliff in your ear and your briefcase in hand, you exit. The sky is bright, and the skyscrapers are really, really tall. You light up the spliff and start walking toward the bank. At a red light you put the roach in a baggie and the baggie in your pocket.

A few red lights later, a man walks up to you. Anything is something, he says, holding out a paper cup. He smells really, really bad.

You reach into your pocket and hand him the baggie, then you turn around and walk back toward the streetcar. Back home, the fog is really, really thick. You eat a chocolate doughnut and stare out the window at the fog. After that you roll another spliff, grab your briefcase, and run to the bus.

clouds and other things unseen

1. Your dad waited for you at the bus stop.

2. You spotted him a block away, but decided to get off anyway. You ran in the opposite direction. He ran after you. Much quicker, he caught up to you and tackled you from behind. You wrestled on the ground for a bit. Him: punching your stomach. You: biting his ear, spitting, yelling -- all at the same time.

3. You pushed yourself away and got up. He did too. "What are you doing here?" you asked. "I thought you were dead." You noticed a single cloud in the sky. "Your mother has cancer," he said. "It's time for you to come home." The cloud circled his head like a halo. "We are home," you said. You started walking away, but he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. "I'm tired of your games," he said.

4. "Come with me," you said. He followed you up two steep hills. The cloud came too. "We should have taken the bus," he said.

5. "We're almost there."

6. When you reached the cemetery it was his turn to run. And the cloud, which, it turned out, wasn't a cloud after all, chased him.

the golden rule

While waiting for the bell to ring, I decide to eat somebody.

I pick Jenny.

Come with me Jenny, I say. I have to show you something.

What? she says.

It's something special, I say, like a buried treasure.

She turns away, uninterested.

I go to the front of the classroom and pick up a yard stick. Walking back to Jenny's desk, her eyes are now big. I poke her once in the stomach and twice in the face, just below her eyes.

Owe, she says.

Let's go find that treasure now, I suggest.

Jenny looks around. No one seems to be paying attention to us. Okay, she says.

I take her to the closet and remove her clothes.

She doesn't say a word.

I begin eating her. I start with her legs and work my way up. When I reach her neck, her eyes finally close. There's blood everywhere. After I eat the last bits of skull, I let my stomach settle for a few minutes, then I immediately clean myself up and change my clothes with the extra pair I keep in my locker.

I return to class.

The bell finally rings, and the teacher enters.

Instead of taking roll, she goes to her seat, turning away from us. She doesn't speak. Finally, after a few moments of silence she turns around. Class, she says, I'm afraid you're all going to have to go home.

Everyone, including me, is stunned.

But why? someone asks.

I can't say, she says. Just follow me, single file.

We follow her and she leads us to the front of the school. There's a group of men standing by the janitor's closet, and I see the janitor handcuffed, sitting on the ground down the hall.

What happened? somebody asks.

Keep quiet, the teacher says.

There's a row of buses outside the school, waiting to take us home.

Upon getting on a bus, I burp then look around.

Who's next? I ask, grinning. Jenny was just a snack.

No one seems to hear.

I sit down and, as the bus starts moving, I walk to the back and eat three kids sitting in the back row -- Carl, Danny, and Lee. I don't stop there. I make my way back to the front of the bus, eating kids, row by row. When I get to the front, I eat the bus driver. I stop the bus, get out, and start eating everybody I see.

Men, women, children. Whatever.

After eating the 76th person of the day, I decide to take a nap. When I wake up, I'm back in the classroom waiting for the bell to ring. Turning around, I see Jenny again with her bright blue eyes.

Come with me, I say.

No, she shouts. Last time, you took me to the closet and ate me.

I won't this time, I promise.

She stares at me for some time, looking into my eyes.

Please, I say.

She gets up and I take her to the closet and take off her clothes and start gnawing on her toes.

Hey! she shouts. Start with my head this time. My feet are ticklish.