ANTI-POST PORNO FOR CHRIST [EXCERPT: SCENE TWO]

Excerpt

[The following excerpt is from Anti-post Porno for Christ. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED]

BY KEITH M. JUDGE

SCENE TWO

Night: Eddie sits in his wicker chair and Abby rocks in her rocking chair. They face the fourth wall; the end table stands between them. Atop the table is a bag of popcorn. Abby throws the kernels into the air and attempts to catch each one in her mouth. Eddie watches the cars go by.

ABBY: Do you think I’m crazy?

EDDIE: I’m not quite sure what you mean.

ABBY: You know. Crazy.

Beat

EDDIE: I’m not sure what that means, crazy. I mean. I just don’t know.

ABBY: I just wish . . . I could stop.

EDDIE: Stop . . .

ABBY: Yeah.

EDDIE: Stop what?

ABBY: I need to let go of something. Or maybe I left something behind. I don’t know.

Dust and plaster falls from the ceiling.

EDDIE: Huh.

Beat

EDDIE: Sometimes . . . when you pick something up, you must first put something down.

ABBY: That goes without saying.

EDDIE: Perhaps. We walk thru life with our hands full: full of . . . responsibilities, anxieties, fears, right? The tricky part is knowing what to keep and what to leave behind.

ABBY: What does that have to do with being crazy?

EDDIE: Nothing, everything, I don’t know. Do YOU think you’re crazy?

ABBY: Yes.

EDDIE: You’re not crazy.

ABBY: How do you know?

EDDIE: It’s a fabrication, crazy. It doesn’t mean anything. You’ve been hoodwinked.

ABBY: Hoodwinked?

EDDIE: Bamboozled.

ABBY: Bamboozled?

EDDIE: Hornswoggled!

ABBY: Authentic frontier gibberish.

EDDIE: Conned, suckered.

ABBY: Great, I’m a sucker. Thanks.

EDDIE: That’s not what I mean!

ABBY: No, I’m a sucker. Thanks! I should just leave since I suck so much.

EDDIE: We’re all suckers, Abby. We’re born in the suck. Crazy? What does that mean? It means you’re not “normal.” Who hasn’t asked themselves at some point, “Am I normal?” If anyone is crazy, it’s whoever has always assumed they’re normal despite our deepest convictions to the contrary. No one is normal. What does that even mean, “normal?” Is “normal” regular? I’ve asked the same question and guess what?

ABBY: What?

EDDIE: Who cares. Normal is boring, callous, thoughtless. That’s normal. You know what drives me crazy? Wondering whether I’m crazy drives me crazy. I let that shit go.

ABBY: You’ve definitely let go . . . of something, lately.

EDDIE: The question, “Am I crazy?” is excess baggage. Don’t let THEM tell YOU who YOU are.

ABBY: Who’s “them?” They. Who are they?

EDDIE: The normals! They’re the ones who! They invented this word, “crazy” to put us in a box! They planted it in the landscape like an IED. You’re just walking along, confident in who you are, you take one false step and some chest-thumping egomaniac is calling you “crazy.” They pushed this word out there like a virus to infect our minds, so we doubt ourselves until we’re weak and feeble. Don’t play their game, Abby! They’re vicious. You’re better off with us crazies.

Abby stands with the popcorn and paces anxiously. She eats compulsively.

EDDIE: They’ll be here soon.

ABBY: Who?

EDDIE: The normals.

ABBY: When?

EDDIE: Not sure. Could be any day now . . . maybe never.

ABBY: How will we know it’s them? What do they look like?

EDDIE: They’ll probably be wearing lightweight tactical gear and night vision goggles.

ABBY: We should leave. They’re going to come for us, they’re going to come for me and I don’t want to die. I don’t want them to take me away, Eddie.

Eddie stands and turns to face her. He smiles.

EDDIE: They won’t take us if we buy something from them.

ABBY: Like what?

EDDIE: I don’t know.

ABBY: What are they selling Eddie?

EDDIE: Nothing good.

ABBY: I’m serious, EDDIE!

Abby shoves him.

ABBY: We’ve been eating macaroni and cheese for the last two weeks!

Beat

ABBY: Because your stupid unemployment is shit!

EDDIE: That shit would feed us every month if I received it, I swear.

Abby shoves him again.

EDDIE: I’m working on it.

ABBY: Macaroni and cheese, EDDIE!

EDDIE: I’m a simple man with simple desires in life and, well . . . you know. On paper, I don’t make anything. Whatever I should be receiving is a pittance and I can’t even collect that.

ABBY: Call them!

EDDIE: Call unemployment? Have you tried calling unemployment? It’s a busy signal, Abby!

ABBY: Call again!

EDDIE: I . . . I can’t.

ABBY: WHY?

EDDIE: I called fifty times about a week ago, then threw my phone in the lake.

ABBY: Real smart, dip shit! What are you going to do now?

EDDIE: Abby, those are normal words! Don’t go down that road! You don’t know where it leads!

ABBY: Don’t you DARE call me normal!

Beat

EDDIE: I’m so sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking –

ABBY: What are we going to do, EDDIE?

Eddie gestures about the room.

EDDIE: Exist, live, meditate.

Abby holds her face with her hands.

ABBY: They won’t let us. They’re going to try and sell us shares in solar or a vacuum cleaner, and we’re not going to be able to buy it, Eddie! Then they call in the cavalry, the Dino Division with their fire-breathing, screaming pterodactyls and . . . they’re going to fry our brains with high amplitude microwaves, toss us in the looney bin and throw away the key. You’re obviously going to do something incredibly stupid –

EDDIE: ME!?

ABBY: – and then and then and then, EDDIE! They’re going to give you electroshock like in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and I’m going to have to destroy a window with a marble water fountain!

EDDIE: Abby, I can get us the money with your help . . . I told you. I have a plan.

Abby turns red. She bores holes through him with her eyes. Dust and plaster falls from the ceiling.

EDDIE: Listen, it’d be completely Platonic –

Abby picks up a random book and throws it at him.

EDDIE: AH! What the fuck, Abby! That’s Goethe!

ABBY: I told you how I feel about your stupid plan, you sick fuck!

EDDIE: Abby, what do you want? Where’s your trust fund? Oh, you blew thru a year’s worth of rent, food and recreation in half that time.

ABBY: Fuck you! I started a business!

EDDIE: Printing archival-quality, hand-made books on organic paper using a Heidelberg that’ll remove an arm if you’re not careful may have been a viable entrepreneurial pursuit in 1925, but even then –

Abby throws more books at Eddie, harder this time.

EDDIE: Ouch! AH! Fahk, Abby! Jesus Christ! STOP IT!

ABBY: (At the top of her lungs) I HATE YOU!

Dust and plaster falls from the ceiling.

Lights fade.

END SCENE