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In This Issue: Season Ten: Winter 2013

Dramatic Interpretation (Female) Content by Wes Tantz........................................................................................04

Dramatic Interpretation (Male) Forever As the Stars by E. J. Williams....................................................................................08

Season Ten: Winter 2013

Prose Interpretation Bruise Ship by Waylon Brown and Rob Herrick.............................................12

Duo Interpretation (Male/Female) Dividing by Zero by Sarah Carpenter...........................................................................16

ISBN 978-1-61387-039-6 Price $25 US http://www.speechgeek.com

Poetry Program Builder Burned Out by Julia Neva.......................................................................................21

Content
MARION.

by Wes Tantz

(While smoking cigarette, Marion should be making subtle touches to her stomach because she is with childbut it shouldnt be obvious.) (reading from book) Poets are always taking the weather so seriously.They are always sticking their emotions in things that have no feelings. When I first started writing, I used to hail these gaudy beings as proof for why I was the way I was or why I did the things I did. After months of reading, re-reading, and a descent into nihilism, I just realized I was a woman who was too busy rotating on my axis to focus on the planets and shooting stars around me. (reading from book) All cowardice comes from not loving or not loving well. Then again, maybe thats what it is. All of these people are too much on their axis, too. Or too busy sucking the life out of anything that remained nameless.You know, I never understood why love was such a holy topic. Its not all that, let me tell you. Let me tell you a story. I knew a girl once who fell so in love with a boy. She fell and fell and fell and fell so far past the Earth that she spiraled out into the universe. She was carried by all these feelings that seemed warm and comforting, but once thrown into space, they were nothing. She floated with the dust and fell and fell and came to a black hole. There, she was sucked inside, and what did she find? Well, a party! There was booze, there was coke, there were people, and she danced until the stars shook and fell to her feet.There was John Lennon, Albert Einstein, and Ernest Hemingway. And youll never believe who was hosting the party. Jesus H. Christ himself! Dressed in a pink suit, all Gatsby-like. So cool and so clique, waiting on his Daisy to float on by(laughs). Hmm.You know thats why people never return from black holes. Its one endless party. I mean whod want to? She sent me a postcard once. It was real nice. Jesus is a handsome looking fellow let me tell you. (She laughs and continues to smoke.)

I know this other story. Oh, but you dont want to hear more, do you? Oh, well If you insist. See, once there was this boya very pretty boy. A good friend of mine knew him. Now, I didnt know him personally, but my good friend told me he fell in love. How surprising, right? Said he fell so in love that the earth knew it and the ground knew it and the trees knew it and the ocean knew it. So the earth told the trees to separate the earth, and the ground split beneath his little toes, and he fell into the ocean. He swam and swam to find the little mermaids hoarding spot just to find his lover a ring. (laughs) You didnt seem to like that one very much.You know, everyone is a critic now a day.You should try being a writer. It isnt as glamorous as it looks. Although I do a great job at making it flawless, huh? I dont mean to be a critic. Days like these just happen to mangle and deform me. How about one last story? The story of the girl who wanted to be God. Maybe youve heard Sylvia Plaths version, but mines better. I promise. See, there was a girl who wanted to be God. Instead of floating in the dust of stars or swimming to please, she wanted to be a supernovato combust into a brilliant light and then nothing. Nothing. And it worked. All of the boys and all of the girls, they fell for the trick. The mystery and allure and never experiencing anything because she burst before their eyes. I remember seeing her. In the coffeehouse all of us writers went to, to wear our best outfit of despair and attract a cureor a catalystto teach us how to really burn. That night, she was the most inappropriately dressed out of everyone. I kid you not, this girl was practically emotionally naked sitting in the coffeehouse reading her book on neurology or physiology or some ology, and she just looked like bliss. Not in bliss, but she was the goddess of it. I remember staring and wanting nothing more than to have herto have another moon to pull into my gravity and rotate about my self-centeredness. But thats when mermaid boy found his way out of the ocean; he wound up in the sewer and crawled from the toilet dripping wet footprints to my table to remind me I was still his. He stands in front of me, and I stare at the floor to catch her shadow. His mouth is moving and mine is following, too, but the words dont process, and its just my eyes. From the girl to him to her hips to his face to her eyes to his mouth from her eyelashes that I swear were cyclones pulling me into I

Forever As the Starsby E. J. Williams

music. His face, so gentle yet passionate, his handsthe way they danced across the keys. Unforgettable, indeed. Now with my luck so far that night, I wasnt dare going to approach that beautiful man. My plan was to admire from afar. But after three cocktails and a final good luck shot, I was traipsing toward the piano with the biggest grin on my face. Right as I got up to him, the song changed to L-O-V-E. And without a single bit of hesitation, I belted that song out for the whole club to hear. By the end, he was smiling, watching me right along with the whole rest of the place. I even got a standing ovation. It was the last song of the night, and he was the last man Id love in my whole life. I knew from the moment I walked in. Id had a bit too much to drink. Parker offered to save this damsel in distress by asking if Id like a ride.We laughed the whole way back to my place. I invited him inside, but he respectfully declined. I was mortified, but I guess he could sense my embarrassment. He leaned in really close, kissed me on the cheek, told me that my hair looked like honey, and said that I had the voice of an angel. I laughed, looked right into his beautiful brown eyes, and said, Youre wrong. My hair is honey, Parker. And I dont have the voice of an angel, I have the voice of a god. That was our first kiss. The first kiss melted into the second and third.The first kiss was followed by a thousand beautiful kisses, each more tender and loving than the last. He asked me to marry him on our third date. I laughed and said that if he could find the priest who would marry us, Id find the dress. Dont look at me like that, son, I was just kidding around. But he sure wasnt. Id never seen a more determined look in any mans eye, and I doubt I ever will again. He gave me this ring. Told me it was a symbol--a symbol of trust, of love and of devotionthats why its round. No end in sight. It had belonged to his greatgrandfather, who had stayed married to the same woman for nearly eighty years. Thats what he wanted with me, he said. Eighty years to love me, take care of me, and be my forever. Thats what he saidthat he wanted to be my forever.We married that night under an old willow tree in his yard. I moved into his house the next day. You know, time is a funny thing in how it seems to fold in on itself at will. Something can seem forever then be gone before you realize

Unforgettable, thats what you are; Unforgettable, though near or far; Like a song of love that clings to me, How the thought of you does things to me.
(He chuckles and wipes brow. He is lost in thought for a moment.) Nat King Cole? Circa 1964? Judging by the looks on your faces and the pep in your step, Im sure that was before your time. Cant blame you. Nat was before my time, too, but Parker loved him. He could play every song. See, Parker was a painter by day but a pianist by night. My pianist, I used to call him.We made a good team, Parker and I. He was the music, and I was the voice. To be truthful, thats how we met. It was one of those nights where you notice the starslike theyve suddenly forgotten how to submit to the city lights and are just up in the sky, twinkling with a kind of fury that makes you take notice. I remember getting out of my car at the jazz bar, looking up into the fiercely lit sky, and whispering, Tonight, John, regardless of whats happened prior to this moment, tonight is going to be unforgettable. And would you know, thats what he was playing right when I walked through the door. Unforgettable. Its one of ole Nat King Coles most beautiful songs, in my opinion. Now, it had been a horrible night til that point,til I saw those stars. Id had a blind date earliera friend-of-a-friend.Well, more of a friend-of-a-friend-of-an-old-lover, but who couldve guessed itd be as bad as it was. The manoh what was his name? Leonard Liam Something with an L. It doesnt matter. He comes into the restaurant, sits down, and spends half an hour in tears. Not he wasnt ready to date, but the friend-of-a-friend-of-an-old-lover said that it would be good for him. Anyway, I spend a half hour there wiping up this mans tearsand headed home discouraged and loathing my ex.You know, I almost did go home that night. But something told me jazz. I needed to drown my sorrows with a cocktail and some jazz. So there I was, walking through the doors of Blue Smoke, the premier hole-in-the-wall jazz club of Alabaster, Alabama. And there he was sitting at his piano, eyes closed and focused solely on the

Bruise Ship

by Waylon Brown and Rob Herrick

High school was awful. Seriously. I was always seen as that tall, lanky, and awkward kid who couldnt play basketball. Im not here to whine about pushing an M&M with my nose down the freshman hall my senior year; thats just surface level stuff. I guess what Im really trying to say here is that everyone in high school was just so counterfeit. It seemed like they were on stage twenty-four hours a day. Sure, some of them were just doing it for laughs, and they knew it. Honestly though, and Im not mentioning any names hereum, Gabebut there were some people who actually believed what they were doing was real life. I guess thats why Im still having trouble figuring out why I attended my five-year high school reunion...on a cruise ship. Gabe was the star quarterback, and the rest of the team were his little puppets coming on and off the stage as part of Gabes little show only when he needed them. A lot of times after he was through using them to help him play a prank on me, or someone else like me, a few of them would feel bad about what they did and sometimes even help me up or apologize. But that was only when he left. I guess thats why I went to the reunion. I had to see just one last time if Gabe was still Gabe and if he was still dominating my first and last girlfriend, Stephanie. My best friend, Joey, and I still fight over technicalities to this day. Dude, you were in fifth grade, and you went out for like fifteen minutes! Okay, first of all, it was like a half hour; second of all, I saw something in her seven-year-old eyes in that half hour that told me we were different. Everything we did seemed to be original; it seemed like we were together for like...an hour until Gabe beat me up and kissed her within that same half hour. So from sixth grade until now, I have lived my life with one single purpose: to never get a girlfriend, get beat up, and then lose that girlfriend within the same half hour again. I guess stealing her back from Gabe wouldnt be bad either. Back to the reunion. Now that Id decided to go, the only thing I could think is,Ive got to look good for this thing. Stephanies going to be there! Then it hit me. Me taking all this time to look good would only make me one of them, the people who take every day as a performance and try to put out some sort of facade that is different from the real them. So I stopped. I put on my wrinkled dress shirt, Dockers shorts, and my old sandals. I reverted back to the real me with the outfit I use to play video games in for ten hours straight. I was all dressed down with someplace to go. Who knows? I said to my unshaven reflection in the mirror. If were lucky, it might turn out like The Love Boat!

I gave myself a little wink and a point. Just then, a little voice inside my alltoo-pessimistic-but-probably-more-realistic head said,Yeah, or it could end up like Jaws! I left the house to return to the one place I swore Id never go again: high school; only this time, there was no acting sick and going home. I cant really have my mom come pick me up from the middle of the ocean. Standing at the loading dock in front of the cruise ship, I see Gabe in the distance putting someone in a headlock, messing their hair up, and laughing while Stephanie stands firmly at attention. So after about a half hour of really frustrating business, Im on the boat. The sun is set now, and theyre telling me to get to my room and change for dinner. Keeping my old clothes onstill set on not trying to impress anyoneI throw my bags down and head for dinner as is. When I get there, I realize I stick out. I spot Gabe at the bar flirting with the bartender as Stephanie mingles with some old friends catching up on whats gone on in the last five years like what happened in college and who hooked up with who.You know, the usual. The whole time, theyre talking and laughing, Stephanie just stands there acting like she doesnt see what Gabes doing. My watch tells me that Ive been watching these two for about an hour now, but thats not the bad part. The bad part is that not one person has approached me or even recognized me, and its starting to freak me out. Its like I know who I am, and I know who they are, but they for sure have no clue who I am. I feel like I just walked onto the set of a messed up version of the Twilight Zonenot only am I not dressed up but also nobody recognizes me. Theyre probably thinking,Okay, whos the homeless guy trying to get a free dinner? Even my old principal tried to make the connection, but after a few minutes he shook his head and walked off confused. Its times like this that I want to give up. Its times like this that I want to have my mom pick me up, bring me home, make me some Kraft macaroni and cheese, and tell me everything is going to be okay. Its times like this that I want someone to stop me from jumping off this boat. Its times like this that I want to grab everyone in this room by the throat and yell,Its me, you fools! Its me, Tom: the only reason high school was funny for any of you! But I dont. Instead, I let a couple of tears fall from my left eye. Then I do what any normal, rational person would do in this situation. I search on the ground like Ive lost a contact lens or anything not to look like a homeless guy that broke into a high school reunions cruise ship for a place to get free dinner and cry. As I search for nothing more than a way to get off this boat, I realize something. I dont need any of these people to validate me. Just as I decide to get up and go, a beautiful and somewhat familiar sound bounces off my eardrums to the sound of, Tommy Meyer? Is that you?

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Dividing by Zero
SCENE 1 KATE.

KATE.

by Sarah Carpenter

JEFF. KATE.

JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE.

JEFF.

KATE.

JEFF. KATE. JEFF. SCENE 2 KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF.

(Kate is center stage, addressing audience. Until she speaks directly to Jeff, they are not in the same scene together.) To answer your question, no. No, there was never a time when I didnt want to be a mother. (enters) Katie? You home? Im sorry. That sounded convoluted.What I meant to say was that Ive always wanted to be a mother. I feel like, deep down, I was born to be a mother. (putting down bags and books) Katie? Katie-kat? Where are ya, girl? Its funny.You know how most little girls carry around baby dolls? Me? I had my own nursery. I knew which blankie went with each baby. I made up feeding and changing charts. My babies didnt cry. Instead, they had colic. I took a yellow highlighter to one doll and began treating her for jaundice. I mean, seriously? What sixyear-old diagnoses their baby doll with jaundice? (opens fridge) Well whaddve we got here? (He calls out in a halfwhisper half-talk so thateven if shes in the houseshe cant hear him.) Kate, Im going to polish off the orange juice straight out of the carton. If thats cool with you, just say something. So on our third date, when Jeff confessed that he would steal his sisters dolls and hide them under his shirt so he could pretend to be pregnant, I wasnt weirded out. Actually, I thought it was serendipity. Heres a cute, funny, and nice guy who wants kids as much as I do. Its perfect. (moment) After everything we went through, it should have been the perfect day. (to Jeff) Its positive. Are you positive? (to Jeff) Im positive. Katie-kat this is the best news in the world! Augh! I love ya!

JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. KATE. JEFF. SCENE 3 DOCTOR. KATE. DOCTOR. KATE. DOCTOR. KATE. DOCTOR. KATE.

Yes, Jeff, Im sure NASA likes to employ prop technicians to make fake control panels for their space missions. And the guys sitting at home with the big computer screens.Those are all fake, too.You know theyre just sitting around watching reruns of Friends on our taxpayer dollars. That is the most realistic conspiracy theory ever.You should contact The Onion. Im sure theyd love to publish your groundbreaking expos. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Its been two minutes. Flip it over. (Kate takes a deep breath, looks at Jeff, then turns it over with an exhale.) Nope. Seriously? (irritated) What? Do you think I would joke about this? I didnt say that. You said seriously like I wasnt being serious or something. So, yeah, I stand by my question. Wow.Well, Im sorry. Im a little disappointed by the whole thing. I am, too.Youre not the only one feeling this way. I thought we would catch a break this time. After three years of trying to get pregnant, one would think. Do you think its time we called in the experts? Who? NASA? (laughs) No. I dont want a cardboard prop baby. I want a real baby. One thats all pudgy and cute and cries and poops. So do I.Youre right. I should probably call my doctor. Say that again. (confused) I should call my doctor? Before that. (sighs) Youre right. Its just so rare to hear you say those words.

(to audience) Let me back things up. What does it say? (to Jeff) It hasnt been two minutes yet. Youre not doing it right. Not doing it right? Im peeing on a stick, Jeff, not launching a space shuttle. You know they probably only have one little red start button to push. I bet those control panels are just for show.

Hello, Kate, how are you doing this afternoon? Oh, you know. Just lounging in my backless hospital gown on a paper covered exam tableso Im pretty much feeling like Angelina Jolie. Except, minus the babies, of course. Yes. About that. I take it youve been actively trying to conceive? If sheer desire and willpower were enough, we would have created one with our minds by now. Have you read the pamph Ive read every pamphlet and every website. I dont smoke. I cut out caffeine. I eat a balanced diet. Drink plenty of water. I exercise. (gets cut off) And charting Ive charted my monthly cycles. Ive charted my ovulation. Ive charted my body temperature.

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Burned Out
MINIMALIST RUT Julia Neva 6:30 a.m. Hit snooze. 6:45 a.m. Hit snooze. 7:00 a.m. Stare up. Consider options. Hit snooze once more. 7:15 a.m. Regret snooze. Jump up. Eat fast. Shower faster. Get dressed. Run quick. Sit down. Stop talking. Start writing. Ask questions. Get up. Sit down. Stop talking Start writing. Answer question. Get corrected. Get embarrassed. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Run home. Get dressed. Work out. Run quick. Run home. Work more. Call mom. Call dad. Eat fast. Sleep now.

by Julia Neva

Repeat. Hit snooze. Hit snooze. Jump up. Run quick. Sit down. Get up. Sit down. Get up. Ask questions. Get corrected. Run home. Work out. Run quick. Work more. Eat fast. Sleep Snooze Jump Run Sit Ask Get Run Run Work Work Work Scream Stop Stop Stop Breathe Call mom. Call dad. Sleep. Hit snooze. Stare up. Consider options. Stay home. Write poems. Count clouds. Race pennies. Mail cards. Make smores. Blow bubbles.

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Dramatic Interpretation (Female) Content by Wes Tantz Dramatic Interpretation (Male) Forever As the Stars by E. J. Williams Prose Interpretation (Male) Bruise Ship by Waylon Brown and Rob Herrick Duo Interpretation (Male/Female) Dividing by Zero by Sarah Carpenter Poetry Program Builder Burned Out by Julia Neva

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Season Ten: Winter 2013 Copyright 2012 ISBN Number 978-1-61387-039-6