Dragged by Andy Aisbett Final
Dragged by Andy Aisbett Final
Dragged by Andy Aisbett Final
BY ANDY AISBETT
CHARACTERS
6 MALE. 3 FEMALE.
STELLA: Age 28.
BOY: Age 18.
MOTHER: Age 40.
FATHER: Age 40.
SIMON: Age 18.
MANAGER (same actor as MOTHER): Age 50.
CHORUS: Four Actors. 2 Male. 2 Female. Any Age.
yourself that its just a phase hes going through? What a fucking role model. Its just
going to take us some time to get used to. Why? Why will It take some time to get
used to the person youve always been used to? Whats changed? Im still the human
you gave birth to. Im still the human you raised and woke up every morning before
school. I like makeup. I like dresses and high heels. Its weird, I know its fucking weird,
but I like it. So cheers to you.
(Spotlight weakens. Another comes up on a bed.)
MOTHER: (She pauses) reminds me. Now that youre eighteen doesnt mean you can
get away with raiding my alcohol to take to parties. Get a job and pay for your own
drinks.
BOY: But its hard, mum.
MOTHER: No its not!
BOY: You havent had a job in 19 years.
MOTHER: Because I would rather stay home and do washing and cook your dinner. Be
grateful. Simon has a job. Simon buys his own drinks. Dont you, Simon?
SIMON: Oh, getting my job was way easy, dad knows the manager you seeMOTHER: See?!
BOY: Youre telling me to be more like Simon?
MOTHER: Wouldnt hurt.
(She exits)
BOY: Be more like Simon. Be more like Simon and bottom?
SIMON: I dont know, maybe you should listen to her wisdom.
BOY: Maybe you should shut up and kiss me.
(They kiss)
SIMON: Maybe I should go home.
BOY: Serious?
SIMON: Weve even started using the terminology.
BOY: What?
SIMON: Top? Bottom?
BOY: Who the fuck cares?
SIMON: You do.
BOY: Right.
SIMON: And we kissed, outside of having experimenting.
BOY: Well um, yeah maybe you should go.
SIMON: Ill see you Saturday night.
BOY: Ill see you then.
(They linger, juggling up between a kiss, a hug or a fist bump. MOTHER storms in
again, shes forgotten something, starts scrounging around things)
MOTHER: I only have six pairs of underwear, wheres your(She spots a Mens Fitness Magazine)
Mens Fitness.
BOY: Getting fit.
MOTHER: These are some spicy looking men.
BOY: Are they?
MOTHER: Bloody oath. Probably all homos though. (She throws it down)
BOY: And Im wearing my seventh pair of undies. (He goes to strip)
MOTHER: No, no. Ill just get those ones next wash. Nobody needs to see that. Arent
you staying for dinner, Simon?
SIMON: Nah, mum needs me to do some stuff around the house.
MOTHER: Well youre a good son! If I asked this dope to do the dishes Id just get a
grunt.
BOY: Werent you leaving?
MOTHER: Fine.
BOY: Whats for dinner?
MOTHER: Not sure. Im about to ask your father. Wish me luck!
(She exits)
SIMON: Maybe you should cover those up with Playboy.
(They both share a look)
Ill see you later.
(SIMON exits. STELLA kisses the air. Lights down.)
BOY: Steak.
MOTHER: You had steak last night. I forgot I have a meeting tonight!
BOY: Ill cook it. Its fine.
MOTHER: Well, I was actually hoping you would come with me?
BOY: What? Why? What kind of meeting?
MOTHER: Youve just turned eighteen, and I know alcohol is fun and drugs are wicked
and your friends do them all the time. But I just want you to see what they can do to
you.
BOY: You attend AA meetings?
MOTHER: I know, I just want to warn you about the dangers! You might think youre
invincible and a mighty eighteen year old, but youre not.
BOY: Mum, I just turned eighteen. Im not an addict.
MOTHER: Well, youre acting like one.
BOY: Because you would know.
MOTHER: Ive been eighteen before, believe it or not.
BOY: That wasnt sarcasm. I know you used to abuse the shit out of alcohol and drugs.
You still do.
(She shoots him a look)
Im going to Simons anyway, and were drinking.
MOTHER: Fine. Go to Simons. Get so drunk you shit your pants and vomit down each
others throats, singing the theme song from fucking Friends. See if I care.
BOY: Your jobs a joke, youre broke and your love lifes D.O.A.
MOTHER: Youre not funny.
BOY: Do you even have a job? (Shes silent) Money? (Stays silent) A love life?
(He exits, a pause. She takes a swig of vodka, exits.)
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Repeat.
STELLA: My name is Stella and that is what I do on a nightly basis. Drink. Get stoned.
Rave. Fuck. Repeat. I laugh. Cry. Fall. Cry. Smile. Cry. Dance. Cry. Sing. Cry. Scream and
cry. Cry, cry, cry, cry, cry! Just like my mother and what she used to be. Nothing like
my father. Haha! Look at me! How can I be anything like my father? (She smashes a
bottle)
I drink to forget. To feel like I didnt exist until now. To feel like the family I grew up with
were never alive, and my fetus dropped out of the sky into a dumpster full of sperm
and glitter. People used to know where I went back to every day. What street I walked
down. What shows I watched every Saturday morning. Now Im looked at with curious
eyes. I wonder if that fabulous drag queen has a family, or a home, or a family with a
home. Or a partner at least? No. (Giggles) Not me. Not Stella.
SCENE FIVE: AA
(An AA meeting)
MOTHER: My name is Stella and that was me before I had a kid. You can probably
guess why Im so excited about admitting that. My life was filled with rhymes and guys
buying me shots. Now Im buying my lipstick from the local IGA and touching myself to
David Letterman because my husband never looks at me. Never touches me. Im a
mother. A mother to a child who doesnt care if I come home or not. A wife to a man
who can barely make eye contact with me. Doesnt even greet me with a kiss on the
forehead when he comes home. Its just silence. So I drink. Alcohol has always been in
my life. My grandfather was an alcoholic. My father an alcoholic. My son soon to be an
alcoholic. And me, alcoholic.
I drink to feel something. To feel touched like I used to be touched. To feel warm like
the honeymoon cuddling, or like the safety of skin touching skin and sparks flying as
lips touch lips. Im alive and I feel dead. Thats me. Thats Stella.
BOY enters, tipsy.
BOY: (Sarcastically) Im here!
MOTHER: I thought you were at Simons?
BOY: I didnt go.
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face for you to make a fresh fucking start with. (She begins to walk away) I was the
best thing that ever happened to you. You said that. Youve obviously forgotten, but
when you remember, I wont be here and youll be alone. Go on, have fun. You little
cunt.
(She exits, lights down)
SCENE SEVEN: BOYFRIEND (CHORUS enters, moshing with STELLA. MOTHER &
FATHER enter and positioned at opposite sides of stage)
SIMON: (On the phone) Well, Ive been seeingsomeone. Wellwhat? I dont knowI
cant say. Because I just cant. Theyre a bit troubled Like, you know. Going through a
tough time at the moment, and I want to be the thing that turns all of that around.
How long? A while. Actually, Im heading to a party at the moment, can I talk to you
another time? Yeah, I need to talk to you too. About something. Well about this,
actually. What weve just been talking about. Because nows not the time. (BOY and
CHORUS enter) Okay. Bye.
SIMON: What do you think of her? Red shoes.
BOY: What do you think of him?
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SIMON: Him?
BOY: Yeah, with the downstairs luggage flopping about.
SIMON: Come off it.
BOY: Who was on the phone?
SIMON: JustBOY: Mum? Dad? Sister. Brother. Cousin. Second cousin. Daughter?
(He begins tearing up)
SIMON: Are you okay?
BOY: Never better.
SIMON: Then why are you crying?
BOY: (Wipes his eyes) Not.
SIMON: Youre crying.
BOY: What about him?
SIMON: Who?
BOY: With the black top and blue jeans.
SIMON: Me?
BOY: Yeah you. (BOY grabs SIMON and kisses his neck)
SIMON: Youve had enough for tonight.
BOY: Then you have more!
SIMON: No!
BOY: Pussy.
SIMON: Put it away, cmon.
BOY: Fuck off. Stop acting like you own me!
SIMON: Well somebody has to! Youre not exactly stable enough to look after yourself.
BOY: Stop it and suck me off.
SIMON: Fuck off. Come on, Ill take you home.
BOY: Taking me home like yourSIMON: Shut up.
BOY: Like Im your littleSIMON: Shut up!
BOY: Stop acting like this!
SIMON: Like what? Your boyfriend?
(The lights and music fade, CHORUS, MOTHER, FATHER exit. SIMON and BOY are
alone. STELLA stays on the dancefloor and watches on)
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head. She yelled and screamed and stormed up to me, snatched the cigarette out of
my hand and slapped me across the face. Without any hesitation, he hit me. It was
the first time she ever hit me. It was the first time I knew she was serious. She warned
me about these things called cigarettes because she knew the crowd I associated with
were into that. She told me she was disappointed in me, like a regular mum would.
Dad said nothing to me, just gave me the ugly face he always gave me.
I didnt like that. I didnt like that they didnt like that. Growing up I had nothing the
other boys had. In high school I never went to parties all of my friends were going to
because my parents didnt like that. They didnt like the idea of me growing up and
being exposed to dangerous things like tobacco and tequila and being popular and
cool. Hmph. If only they knew what I was like now. What I was doing now. Im cool, and
Im popular too, when my face is pushed into a pillow, that is. (She takes another pill
and another swig.)
When I was sixteen I started getting bad skin and my mother didnt want to waste
money on Proactive Solution or Garnier Charcoal Scrub or maybe nice soap instead of
the outrageously pathetic home brand excuse of a product. Anyway, so one night I
snuck into the bathroom and somehow found my hand in my mothers makeup bag
and then somehow started using my mothers foundation to cover up my plague
infested skin. After the foundation, I tried some eyeliner. After the eyeliner, I tried
some mascara. After the mascara I- well, you get it. Once I was done applying all of
my mothers basic supermarket brand make-up, poorly, I might add, my father walks
in. Without knocking. Apparently knocking wasnt a thing in my household. You can
probably guess what he did. Without a singular blink, he grabbed me by the shoulder
and smacked me as hard as he could across the face. And, because the makeup was
so cheap, he smudged all of it right off. With just one slap. He yelled. He called me
names. He threw me in my bedroom. I cried. The usual. Growing up wasnt the easiest
thing to do. Being myself was even harder. (She takes another pill and another swig.)
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FATHER: Its taken you this long to notice? Youve always been very observant.
BOY: Youre pathetic.
FATHER: Im your father!
BOY: No, youre not. Youre everything a father isnt.
(FATHER stumbles and falls over.)
MOTHER: Get out.
(Pause)
BOY: Im gay.
(FATHER advances. MOTHER stops him.)
MOTHER: Dont touch my boy.
FATHER: Our boy. (He grabs her and pushes her aside)
BOY: (Jumps on him and swings, throws him around. They fight.) GET OUT!
MOTHER: (Frantically) STOP! GET OFF HIM! (She runs at them and swings at them
both, FATHER stands up and grabs her by the wrists, hes crying.)
FATHER; Darling. (She knees him in the testicles. BOY stands up. MOTHER slaps him
across the face. Shocked at herself, she steps back, terrified.)
MOTHER: Im sorry. Im so sorry.
(BOY runs off)
FATHER: I know youve been doing it too.
MOTHER: Doing what?
FATHER: Your AA meetings. Darryl, is it? Well his wife gave me a call to tell me about
her husbands affair.
MOTHER: What does this have anything to do with us?
FATHER: You know what Im talking about. Youve been having drunken little AA hookups with Darryl behind my back.
MOTHER: You make me feel ugly.
FATHER: Oh, theres the truth.
MOTHER: You make me feel worthless and disgusting. You dont touch me, you dont
kiss me, and you barely even look at me. What happened to us?
FATHER: You drank yourself ugly. I didnt make you feel ugly. The grog did.
MOTHER: If I didnt go to those meetings and have drunken fucks I wouldnt have
found out about you! If you were loyal and honest and made me feel the way you used
to, we wouldnt be in this mess.
FATHER: This is just one big mess. Why dont we just kiss and make up and everything
will be good as gold. Everything will be the way it used to.
MOTHER: I dont have enough energy for your bullshit. Move on. (She exits)
FATHER/STELLA: Im sorry. Im so sorry.
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(Lights down)
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BOY: Me too.
MOTHER: (Smiling) especially you!
BOY: So hes gone then.
MOTHER: Yes. Hes gone.
BOY: Are you okay?
MOTHER: I will be. You need to go see Simon. Patch things up. Ill give you a lift.
BOY: Okay, but before we go, wash your face. Didnt anyone ever tell you mascara is
meant to be on your eyelashes, not your cheeks. (He wipes the makeup tears off her
face.)
MOTHER: And foundation is meant to be on girls.
BOY: And fat is meant to be on bacon.
(They both smile and embrace)
MOTHER: Right. Lets go save your love life before it ends up like your mothers.
(They exit. Lights down)
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BOY: Why?
SIMON: Please dont say anything. Just leave. Itll make everything easier.
BOY: Youre just going to forget ten years of friendship?
SIMON: Things change. Especially people.
BOY: Sometimes not for the better. You dont need to give up and leave. Im back, Im
here and Im not giving up. Im changing my ways.
SIMON: You see, you cant just come back. You shouldnt have a reason to say, Im
back. You never should have left. I know things got heated and things got weird but I
thought after everything, that shouldnt have changed everything.
BOY: It hasnt! I just had to think about it!
SIMON: You had to push me away to think about it?
(BOY falls silent)
STELLA: Yes.
SIMON: Why?
STELLA: Because I
SIMON: Because you?
STELLA: Because I love you.
SIMON: Excuse me?
BOY/STELLA: I always have loved you, Simon. I feel invincible with you. I feel
comfortable, I feel beautiful, and I feel right. I feel loved. I cant imagine a life without
you because youve always been there. All of my memories Ive kept over the years
have you in them. All the memories I want to make, you're already in them. (He kisses
him, passionately, and STELLA falls. They eventually fall back on to the bed.)
BOY: What is that?
SIMON: No dont- dont look under there!
(BOY finds a noose under his sheets. They stare. Silence.)
BOY: Somewhere peaceful?
SIMON/STELLA: Somewhere peaceful.
(Lights start to fade. Spotlight lingers on STELLA.)
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