Yes, Tony Hooper, There is a Santa Claus

Hi, my name is Tony Hooper
And I'm in the seventh grade

This is my paper on the myth of Santa Claus
Or, 'The Trick of Saint Nick: An Expose'

At least, that's what I thought it was going to be called
Until last night

I'll explain--

First of all, my whole family was at the mall
So my brother and sister could get their pictures taken with Santa

I was making fun of my brother Harry
Because he's too old for all that

I didn't even want to be standing in line
Waiting for a picture with Santa

I wanted to be at the movies with my friends
Seeing Jar of Death

Once you open the jar, death opens you!

But my Mom says Christmas isn't the time
For violent movies

(I guess she's never seen Blood on the Naughty List)

That's my first of all

'Harry's not too old for Santa,' said my Dad
'He's in the fifth grade,' I said, 'That's too old to still be believing in Santa.'
'You mean you don't believe in Santa,' my Dad asked me

'Aw, c'mon Dad,' I said, 'Last year I had to help you wrap half my presents because you waited to the last minute and Mom fell asleep on the ribbon pile.'

'Tony,' my Dad said, 'Santa isn't just about presents.'

But before he could say anything else
It was our turn with Santa

When it was time to take the photo
The same thing happened
That happens every year

My little sister Tina cried a lot
And Harry whispered something in Santa's ear
That made his eyes go real wide

'What did you say to him,' I asked my brother in the car on the way home
'I told him this would be the year I'd catch him coming down the chimney,' said Harry, 'I said, 'I'll be waiting, Big Man.  I'll be waiting.'

And my Mom wonders why I sleep
With one eye open

That's my second of all

On Christmas Eve, I was Skyping with Fat Pants
And Tony Mars

We're planning a Spring Break Trip for next year
When we're in 8th Grade

We're thinking of going somewhere exotic
Tony Mars' Uncle has a house in West Warwick
And he says his uncle keeps a fridge full of ice cream
And an energy drink called Rage Fist

Then my Dad knocked on my door
'Hey old man,' he said, 'You want to go sledding?'

Now, I may be in seventh grade
And I may be way more mature than every other kid I know
But you're never too old
To go sledding with your Dad on Christmas Eve

We left our house
And walked all the way to Greenview Park
To the highest hill in the whole city

Nosedive Hill

My Mom usually never lets me sled down this hill
Because she says it's too dangerous
But Dad said what my Mom doesn't know won't hurt her

He said the same thing about us eating chili dogs after midnight
And it may not have hurt my Mom
But it sure didn't do us any good

Once we were at the top of the hill
We could see the whole neighborhood
With all the Christmas lights
On all the different houses

'You know,' my Dad said, 'If we stay up here, we might be able to see Santa arrive.'
'Oh come on, Dad,' I said, 'You know I don't believe in Santa.'
'Well why don't we see if I can change your mind about that,' said my Dad

He pulled a pair of binoculars
From underneath his coat

'Those are Papa Hooper's," I said
'Yup,' he said, 'Now take a look.'
'A look at what,' I asked

So he had me hold the binoculars up against my eyes
And then he pointed me where he thought I should look

'You see the Gardner's house?  Their son Chris is home from college, and he and Mrs. Gardner are staying up late talking because this year was the first time he's been away from home.  And that's the Richards house, where Mrs. Richards just found out she's going to have another baby, so Matt and Natalie are going to have a baby brother or sister.  Then there's the Stovall house where Mr. Stovall's kids all surprised him by showing up for Christmas because Mrs. Stovall passed away last year and they didn't want him to be alone for the holiday.  See how all the kids and grandkids are sleeping on the couch and the floor and wherever else there's room.  I bet this is the only time Mr. Stovall's smiled since he lost his wife.'

Mrs. Stovall was a real nice lady
She used to give me a nickel and tell me
Not to spend it all in one place

I don't know what place has something
That only costs a nickel
But if you find it
Let me know

'Tony,' my Dad said, 'Your Mom and I might buy you presents, but there's going to come a day where presents won't be what you like about Christmas.'
'You mean one day you'll just give me cash?'
'No, I mean, one day you'll see that all this other stuff is what makes Christmas so special.  It's the stuff even Mom and Dad's can't give you.  Seeing your kid all grown up for the first time.  Finding out you're going to have another kid in your family.  Having an empty house suddenly fill up with all the people you love.  It's magic--it really is.  And if it doesn't come from me or Mom, then I guess it's gotta come from somewhere, right?'

And that's when I thought I heard sleighbells

'Dad...'

But it was just the leash on the dog
The security guard who watches the park has

He looked up at Nosedive Hill
And saw two guys with binoculars
And the next thing you know
My Dad's trying to convince him
Not to send us to jail
On Christmas Eve

Lucky for us, the security guard was full of Christmas spirit
And my Dad made sure his pocket was full of two twenties

The guard even let us sled down the hill
And it was pretty awesome

Maybe there will be a day when I'm too old
To believe in Santa
Or look forward to Christmas
Or get lots of presents

But I hope I'm never too old
To go sledding down Nosedive Hill with my Dad

And that's my report
On Santa Claus

Oh, and one more thing

As we were going down the hill
And the view of the neighborhood
Went out of sight

I yelled out--

Merry Christmas to all
And to all
A good night

Call the Boy Euphoria

He likes
Taking pictures of himself

Across the street
The party's winding down

Gonna come out of your room?
Say good-bye to your guests?

Pass, take the bottle with you
Take whatever you want

What's up with you?
I'm watching something

Don't feel like you're invading something
You're admiring

A hundred feet away
There's a painting hanging

And every once in awhile
It moves and captures itself

Lick your lips
Bite your tongue

You rented this place
So you could feel young

And right there, is somebody
Doing better than you

A love affair develops
Built with nothing but glass and curiosity

Do you see me?
I see you
How could you not--

The curtains never get drawn
The lights never go out

He's doing things
He shouldn't do

Friends don't come by
Nobody rings, nobody cares

I'll stay here with you
It's going to snow tonight

Little things start to flash
Bursts of detail you crave

The tattoo on his ring finger
Huh, how'd that get there?

Who did you used
To belong to?

Did they appreciate you
Like I do?

I call you Euphoria
I don't need to know
Your real name

A dog barking, a car alarm
Nothing breaks my attention

You take a photo of yourself
For who?  For what?

What is it
You're trying
To set
In stone?

Does it make you feel
Less alone?

Looking at pictures of yourself
And feeling so different
From what you see
That they become pictures of other people

People who can keep you company?

I don't know

Touch the glass
A reasonable cold

This want is something
That will need to be
Taken from me

It won't go away on its own

Can you do it for me?
Do you have your scalpel?

I'll never hurt
But I'll allow myself
To be hurt

Sometimes letting someone else ruin you
Is the most freeing thing of all

It creates a relationship
An accidental obligation

Too bad
Too bad

Too bad I'm stuck here
And you're there
And I'm too sunk in
To sail across the street
And ring your bell

For now just pose
And aim
And snap
And keep trying
To see what I see

I'll be over here
If you need me

I Had a Dream That I Could Make Myself a Soaring Man

I had a dream
That I could
Make myself
A soaring man

In the dream I'm standing
Stock still
Somewhere
A field maybe?
Always a field, right?
Always a field in dreams

And suddenly
I can fly
And it doesn't surprise me

Rather, it's like
Oh yes, of course
I'm able to do this
And I always have been

It feels like the flipping of a pancake
Not simple, exactly
But sort of instinctual
And bravery is, of course, required

The feeling that you might fail
Needing to be acknowledged
And then set aside
As you grip the frying pan and--

Whoosh

Flight

And just like a perfect pancake
There is a moment
Of sheer disbelief
That this actually worked

Who knew you could do
This miraculous thing?

And can it be done again?

Of course it can

See how simple it is?

And once you've done it
You know how
And you'll know how forever
And then--

Then...

Then..................................................................................................................................................................................................you wake up

And suddenly
You can't remember
What it is you did

You sit in bed
And you bite your thumb
And you thrash and toss and turn
And think--No, no
I did it
I really did it
I made myself soar

How can I...?

How can I.........?

But then
Even the question
Disappears
And you go back to sleep
The unanswered alarm clock
Lulling you
Back to your tranquil
Limitations

But just for that moment
You were capable of something
More

You, you...why am I saying you?
I'm talking to you
Aren't I?

Talking about me?

Okay

So

Today

In the mail
I got a letter

A letter from you
And I thought
How lovely
Who sends letters anymore?

It would be creepy
If I wasn't so desperately eager
To have you love me

And I opened the letter
Lovely envelope by the way
A cream color
And the letter itself
Parchment
And beautiful ink
And your handwriting--

Goodness, your handwriting

The loops over the 'l's
And the tiniest dots ever for the 'i's
And your whimsical 'g's
Oh goodness, well--

In it
In the letter
You said--

'I love you'

And it was like...

Like I remembered how to fly again

The switch was flipped
The page was turned
The pancake was perfect!

And I was happy
And happiness wasn't something I had to find
I just had to remind myself
That it was already there
Waiting for me

I just needed somebody
To point it out
And say--

You silly man
Didn't you know?
Didn't you?

But I didn't

If, in a dream, all I have to do
Is wish to fly
And I can fly

Then, here, in real life
Holding the words of my one true love
What's there to stop me
From doing, well, anything really?

Honestly, my darling
Tell me

What could ever
Hold me down
Again?

Emo Boy and the Manger Scene

So you're like...a virgin and stuff...right?

I was a virgin last month
But now everybody's a virgin
So, like, why?

Like, all these people
Who never used to be virgins
Are all like--No, I'm totally a virgin now
And I'm like--Not if you weren't before
And they're like--Spiritually I am
And I mean, I respect that
Because I'm a spiritual being
Who accepts people as they are
But also, I'm filled with hatred for them
Because they're liars and frauds
So...you know...

So like, how did you get this job?
I got to be Shepherd Two because my uncle knows a guy
And I needed the money
So like, whatever, but--

I'm not really into organized religion
Because I feel like my soul is a poem
I haven't finished writing yet
So how can somebody else read it, you know?
But, like, Jesus seems like he would have been
A really cute baby

And, like, you're cute and you're his mom
So that makes sense

That they would hire you, I mean
To be his Mom
And, like, even though he's a doll
Made in China
By starving children
And I feel bad even looking at him
Because I'm only perpetuating the oppression of others
I sort of feel like he has my nose

So like, basically, we make a really good couple

Do you want to, like, go to a concert with me sometime?

We can go see this Pat Boone cover band I like
Pat Boone cover bands are really in now
I'm not sure who Pat Boone was
But I think he might have been a Mexican troubadour
And his music is the voice
Of a naked people

Naked as in like their hopes and dreams
But also maybe as in like really naked
Because they're super poor and stuff

My cousin went to Mexico on Spring Break
And he said on the way to the resort
He saw like a ton of poor people
And it was really life-changing

Then he went on the water slide

So...

I heard you saying you, like
Don't have anywhere to go for Christmas,
Because you can't afford a plane ticket home
And, um...

My Mom, like, loves Christmas
Like so much
Because, she's, you know, the worst

But, like, she makes this huge dinner every year
And my house is, like, I mean, there's room, you know
For extra people to, like--

So if you wanted to stay at my house for Christmas
That would be, like, totally fine
Like, I kind of already asked my mom
And she was like, 'You're bringing a girl home for Christmas?'
And I was like, 'Maybe'
And she was like, 'You're not gay?'
And I was like, 'Oh my god, eye-liner is gender ambiguous'
But whatever

So...do you wanna...?

Okay

Okay, cool

Cool

Yeah

Okay

Cool

Yeah

Definitely

Rad

Yeah

Rad

Cool

Awesome

Well, I mean, not...but yeah
Okay
Cool
Yeah
Okay

So this Christmas might not suck after all
I mean, it'll still be corporate and materialistic
And my mom refuses to buy turkeys
Who died of old age instead of being cruelly butchered
At one of the turkey deathmills
But at least I'll have somebody to chill with
And that'll be cool

Eh, don't mention it
Like, I said, we have room

It's Christmas, right?

There's always room
On Christmas

Paulina's Holiday Party

Hello to all of you
Customers of my store

Welcome to Paulina's Holiday Party
And Festival of Booshnita
Here at Paulina's Palace of Porn
And Container Shop

With special new privacy containers
That way nobody can see the filthy things
You creepy people are buying
At the store

Put on plastic gloves if you want eggnog!
Paulina does not want your pinunu-touching fingers
On her limited edition Vladimir Putin commemorative mugs!

Now--

In spirit of holiday
I would like to thank all of you perverts and sluts
For keep food on Paulina's table this year
And clothes on back

In old county, we not celebrate Christmas

A fat man breaking into our house
And eating our cookies
Was not called 'Christmas'
It was called--Uncle Boris Escaped from Labor Camp Again
Larry, Get the Spiked Bat

Good children did not get presents
And bad children did not coal
Good children got coal
Because it keeps you warm
During long winters
And you could draw little face on it
And pretend it was brother
Who went out picking berries
And never came back

God, how it warms my heart
To think of these fond memories

I remember Mama
Bent over a stove
Cooking the gruel mixed with yak liver
While all sixteen children
Swarmed around her
Asking to lick the bowl

Mama was a tired woman

Papa would come home at midnight
After working in fields all day
Then drinking at all twelve bars
In our little village
And if he was able to get inside
Before passing out on front stair
Then no beatings the next day
And there was much celebrating

All my brothers and sisters and I would huddle together
On the floor next to the can of burning trash with the word 'radiator' written on it
And wonder if we remembered to set the wolf traps
Before going to bed
Since my brother Ivan always smelled like pork
And would attract wild animals into the house
Like the village whore attracted my Uncle Boris
After he got done eating all our food

Speaking of whores--

I want to remind you ladies
That everything in Aisle Four is on sale
Including my newest shflya--

The Santa Baby

--Guaranteed to get
To the bottom of all your stockings

The Santa Baby has more electricity in it
Than the fence we used
To keep the Bolsheviks out of our tomato garden

But it is happy time for gentleman freaks too!

If you sign up for Paulina's 'Naughty List'
You get free spanking
After every hundred dollar purchase

What?

No, I will not be one
Doing the spanking!

As if Paulina would let her one of her vintage paddles
Touch your grotesque backsides

Nephew Nicholas will be doing spanking

He is cashier at Container Store
And will enjoy spanking you

I would say he will enjoy spanking you a little too much
But Paulina keeps family bones in pantry
As they say

For those of you godless gentlemen
Who prefer other gentlemen
I have box in back of store now
Labeled 'Straight to Hell'
And in it are many new and exciting things
For you to try

The most popular seller is called 'The Yeltsin'
Named after Yeltsin
And shaped like birthmark on his head

I won't say what you do with it
But I promise
That wherever you put it
Will be a much happier place

For you ladies, there is the 'Stalin'
Which is at half price off for holiday season
And which is guaranteed to make
Your trains run on time

But we save best for last!

For every filthy video you sickos buy
You get gift from purchase:

This picture of my Uncle Boris
On key chain

Picture was taken the day before
One of the wolves got into the house
And tore him up
The way Papa would tear up any newspaper
With word 'democracy' in it

I remember waking up that cold December morning
Finding him on the kitchen floor
Blood being all the everywhere
And thinking to self--

Is Christmas miracle!

May your Christmas
Be good as well
And may you all purchase many things
And then get the hell out of store
So I can wipe down with bleach
And say prayer for you
That the diseases infesting your pinunu's
Not take your lives
Until after you have maxed out all credit cards
Here at Paulina's Palace of Porn

This is my Christmas wish

Otis

The kid in the corner is from Saint Marks
The blue shirt, the plaid pants
The drink in his hand

You can go talk to him
If you want

But he's going to be gone by Monday

His Mom's sick
He's only here
To say his good-byes

He'll be on a plane back
To the life he prefers
As soon as the last potato chip
Is taken from the happy red plastic
Funeral bowls
His sister will put on the table

Go ahead though
Give it a shot
Try to say hi
And throw some personality at him
See what sticks

He might be interested long enough
To give you a kiss
Or you might end up seeing dotted lines
And air
He's so quick
He moves like the Flash

But then again,
We're all superheroes now
We just share the same powers

He's from Saint Marks
The party's in Crenshaw
And Otis is from New York

Funny to think
Where you'll be
In six hours

White deep vee
Baggy jeans
Converse sneaks
Dancing on sticky floors
In a club you didn't know about
That won't be there tomorrow

The police determine
When the party ends
And the diners wait
Like hungry sharks
For kids on drugs
To come get their scrambled eggs

Wasn't I just at my mother's funeral?

Whoa, whoa

Hold up, Otis

We're not doing first person

First person narrative
Is a mirror
You can't handle
Looking into

Let's keep some distance
From this non-linear
Line of thought

Anyway, six hours ago
You were on a bus
Twelve hours ago
You were at the funeral
A day ago
You were at the bar
You went to in college
Hoping that by some miracle
It's now busy there on Monday nights
Even though it never was
Never will be
Isn't then
But
Yes, maybe a miracle
There was the boy
Plaid pants, blue shirt
Sending out waves of 'Yes, sir, I am'
But also depicting 'You might be wrong'
So you waver on whether
To ask him--

Ask him what?

For a number you're never going to call?
For a dance in an empty bar?
For one night where a mistake
Feels like a warm blanket
And does he mind sneaking in through a window
Or does he have his own place
And can you go there
And do you want to hear about his sick Mom and--

Wait

Wait

Are you confused?

I'm confused Otis who are you--?

Oh

He's not there

He's you

The bar

It's empty

Really empty

No cute boy in the corner

And you're the one with drink
In your hand

Who else would wear plaid pants
To a dive bar?

How sick is it that you've turned yourself
Into your dream boy?

I mean what kind of--

...You know what?

Never mind

This shouldn't take much longer

This isn't an epic poem, Otis

It's just a morality play
About who you are
And where you're from
And who you'd like to be
And how there's no place on this earth
That can supply you
With an identity

Fifteen years ago
You got on a bus
And it wasn't to New York, was it?

Narrators know things, Otis
You can fool everybody but a Narrator

I have
Information
At my
Disposal

What was in that drink at the bar?
Geez, no wonder you're looking in a mirror
And seeing double

Your expectations are so low
Even you're looking good
To you

The bus took you to where--
Should I tell them?

The reader
The listener
The audience
The voyeur
The spy

I'll leave it alone
Nobody likes a prequel anyway

Let's stick to the event at hand

Drunk in a bar
Then twenty-four hours later
Drunk in another bar
But this time the bar's full
And you're happy
Happy to be around people
Drinking in their good energy
Taking your deep vee off
Unbuttoning your pants
Ready to get naked
If that's what it takes
To be wholly immersed
In this atomic Wonderland
Of sweat, breath, and body

The eggs are salty
And that's the next sensation you remember
The salt of the eggs
And the salt on your lip
When you brought the glass
Of whatever it was you were drinking
At that dive bar
To your mouth

You envision going outside
Into the snow
And tunneling
All the way to the mall
Miles away
Where you'll have the run of the place
The food court
The arcade
The home decor store
Where you can sit at a nice kitchen table
The kind you see in country homes in movies
Because you've never actually been inside a country home

You'll drink hot chocolate
From the food court
And be lulled to sleep
By the silence of stainless steel pots
In the home decor store
At the giant wooden table
In an empty mall
In the dead of night
In a city you used to live in

Used to live in...

Used to live...

Used to...

You're on a bus

Wait, I thought we weren't doing this?

Okay, but just a second

You're on a bus

I'm on a bus

No, you're on a bus

I'm just looking at you
On a bus

Next to a boy
In plaid--

No, you're on a bus
With people
But no boy

And your phone is ringing
And it's your Mom
She's been calling
And calling
And calling

And you don't answer
You don't want to answer
But you don't turn the phone off either
Because you want to see
How long it will be
Until she stops calling

How many phone calls
Until a mother
Walks away from her son?

And whenever the phone stops ringing
That's when you'll get off

Pittsburgh

It stops ringing in Pittsburgh

You get off

That was a few years ago

What happened in Pittsburgh?

It doesn't matter

Nothing happened
And everything happened
And that is the story
Of just about every life
On this planet, Otis

Nothing is special about you
You are not special
I am not special
You are not me
And I am not you
And Otis is from New York

And there is no was no Otis
Before New York
Before now
Before dancing at a club
On Chipparoe Street
Next to a diner
That swims like a shark

Why do you keep checking your phone?
Nobody's calling now

...I'm sorry...

Was that a mean thing to say?

...Well...

You escaped by the skin
And not of your teeth either

You were the proverbial band-aid
Ripped off the memory
Of so many people

Family, friends, boys in bars
Who actually existed

One day you were here
And one day you were gone
And now you're back
And nobody even knows
Because you did not alert the media
And you did not ring the church bells
And kids these days
Don't read the obits
The way their parents do

Besides, how many of those boys
Would know what your last name is anyway?

So a woman's picture sits in a newspaper
Saying she's survived by a son
If you really want to call it surviving
And a page is turned
And a woman disappears
Just like everyone else
Just like you will one day

So get back on a bus

The Wonderland's waiting

You know what happens in twenty-four hours
You know where you'll be
And what you have
To look forward to
So do it

Go ahead

Go ahead, Otis

Don't veer from the story
I can only help you
As long as you stick to the narrative
As soon as you jump ship
You run the risk
Of ending up
In my recycling bin

My interest in you is based solely
On how much I can depend on you
To bore me

You got that, Otis?

Do you
Under
Stand?

You're on a bus
There's New York
There's behind you
There's Pittsburgh
There's no suitcase
There's no phone ringing
There's no plan
There's nothing

There
Is
Nothing

Nothing but what's happened
And what can

You're from Saint Marks, Otis

I remember you

Do you?

Do you?

Do you?

Do You Believe They Keep the Lights On?

Sort of started
Walking down the street
Twice and ten

And I broke down on Filmount
Didn't meant to
Didn't think it'd happen so soon

I brace myself for hurricanes
And then a breeze knocks me over

Do you believe
They keep the lights on?

I thought they'd turn them off

I thought everybody would go inside
And sleep or stay quiet
And the cars would stay parked
And the dogs would lay down
And the stores would be shut up
Until who knew when?

I walked and saw lights on
In the pizza place
On Filmount

And that was
All it took

The cars drive
The dogs run
The stores put out displays
And sales
And bright fresh signs
That signal it's time
To come in and buy
And...

And what am I?

Standing in the center
Of a still-moving world
Locked up
Inside my own mind

I've become my own prison
And grief is just the lock on the door

Everybody else has started
To let themselves out
And away

They're forgiving themselves
Isn't that nice?

And here I am

On Filmount, starving
And wanting to throw up
At the same time

Crying and frigid
Unfeeling and overwhelmed
Desperate and carefree

How on earth could you take me now?
And what could you take me for?

You'd be so disappointed
In me

But I thought I wouldn't be alone in this
I thought the stars would flicker and fall
And the clouds would break apart
And it'd be like the North Pole
Six months, no light

Instead it's Main Street
And it's bright
And it's Friday
And people are glad
They're happy
They're having a good time

And I can't wrap my head around it
Around any of it

Do you believe they keep the lights on?

I can't

I can't believe any of it
Anymore

Seven Scarecrows

Twice 'round a year
You start to hear 'em

They give you less and less time
Between each showing

It was five years ago
The first time you heard the rustle

Rustle, rustle, rustle
Like water trying to break through dirt
But can't

Sit up in bed
But stop your hand
Before the lamp goes on

You never want to turn on a light
Until you know whether or not
You're better off in the dark

Look out the window
What do you see?

Seven scarecrows
--And that ain't good

Seven scarecrows means Daddy's coming back to town
Probably be here by mornin'
So you know what to do

Get out of bed
Quiet, quiet
He may not be here yet
But now's not the time to go makin' noise

Those scarecrows aren't there for nothin'
They're keepin' an eye on you
Until Daddy gets here

Wake up Mama
Wake up Tad
Wake up Vicki

Follow the plan
The plan is there for a reason
We stick to the plan

Vicki's job is to go to the garage and get the basket
She is not allowed to touch anything in the basket
She shouldn't even be looking in the basket but she will
And it doesn't matter anyway
Because she knows damn well what's in there

Mama packs, and packs fast
Enough clothes, enough food
Enough and only enough
Mama's good at this anyway

Your job is simple
Make sure Mama and Vicki do their job
Because once they're done
Then you have to do
What you have to do

Take the gasoline out of the basket
Mama and Vicki are already in the car
And it's idling

You look out the window
The scarecrows seem closer now
Like they're crawling towards you
When you're not looking

That's not true
The scarecrows have never hurt you directly
But one time you didn't run fast enough
And Daddy showed up
And before you could do anything
That nice man Mama was seeing
Got thrown out into the road

Before that there were only six scarecrows
And then there were seven
And the seventh one was wearing the same clothes Mama's friend had on
When he went out into the street

You try not to think too much about that
Or about the scar on your arm or the one the back of your neck
Or how Vicki still walks with a little bit of a limp
Or Mama with her bad eye

You don't think about anything
But the plan

The kitchen gets it first
Then the living room, the bedrooms
The closets, countertops
And when everything's covered
The gas can goes in the bathtub

Take a few steps outside the house
Light a match
Toss it inside

It'll land right in that puddle in front of the tv
And that'll be the end of it

The immediate heat wakes you up
And you realize
You'd been sort of sleepwalking this whole time

You get in the car
Vicki puts her head down on your lap
Mama pulls out

'In three more years, you'll be driving' Mama tells you
And you can hear in her voice
That she's looking forward to giving you
One more responsibility
That should be hers

As you pull away from the house
You look at another neighborhood
You won't be coming back to

Just like all the others
And all the other times
You look in the backyard
Where the scarecrows were
And there's nothing there

No room to hold that many scarecrows anyway
But you swear you saw them

The same way you swear you saw them that first time
When you still had a farm to call home
And Daddy was out in the fields
Crying and wailing
Until there wasn't anything but cold silence
And Mama came walking out of the corn
Holding an axe
Blood on her face
And pointing the axe at you she said--

'Go get the gas can before your Daddy gets back'

And now it burns
Now it all burns
And you're free to sleep
Until the car stops
And somebody
Wakes you up

Dead Queen Greta's Charming Tour

In Bulgaria, they did not care
That she was dead

She was very upfront about it

If anyone had asked her--Are you living?

Queen Greta, also known as Greta the Always Honest
Would have replied--No, I'm afraid I'm not

Greta was known for many things

In addition to always being honest
She was also known as Greta the Trustworthy
Greta the Pretty But Not Too Pretty
Greta the Unoffensively Humorous

And lastly, but most importantly
Greta the Charming

So when her country was experiencing
A dreadful public relations problem
Due to a prime minister
Who was not trustworthy
Or pretty or handsome
And funny only in an offensive way
And definitely--DEFINITELY--not charming

Greta, always conscientious,
And, quite frankly, sick of retirement
Even if it was self-imposed
By her own demise,
Decided it was her patriotic duty
To try and improve her country's standing
With the rest of the world
By going on what would become known as
Dead Queen Greta's Charming Tour
No emphasis on the 'Dead,' of course

Her former subjects were thrilled that she was back
Even as a mere figurehead instead of an actual ruler

They weren't the least bit surprised
That she had returned
For if ever a person would relinquish dead
And get back to work
For the good of her country
It would be Queen Greta

The prime minister, however, was not so thrilled
As he had already been unfavorably compared to Greta for years
And only found solace in the fact that she was long gone
Now that she was back
Comparisons were even easier to make
And his flaws seemed even more glaring

But Greta only stayed in her only country briefly
Before setting out on her world tour

She did do a photo op with the prime minister
And assured him (under her breath)
That she had no intention of reclaiming her throne

She simply wanted to do her part
And then she'd go back to being just a portrait
In the royal museum

So with a reluctant blessing
From a reluctant prime minister
And the kisses and roses
Of her living subjects
Queen Greta set out to bring glory back
To her beloved nation

Her first stop was, of course, France
Where the people cheered and cried
Upon seeing her

Nobody remembered her, of course
Because she had been dead for years and years
But they had heard stories of her kindness and generosity
And they welcomed her with open arms
And loving compliments
Shouted from the streets of Paris

She was met with equal parts admiration and affection
In other countries as well
--Germany, China, Egypt, Sweden

In Chile, there was a concert organized in her honor
In Greenland, they unveiled an ice sculpture modeled after her
In Turkey, she traveled all over the country
And was given babies to hold
And sicknesses to cure
And soon she began to wonder if they saw her
As some sort of Jesus figure
Simply because she had chosen
Not to remain dead
For the time being

Everywhere she went, she found nothing but gracious hosts
And thousands of people waiting to welcome her
All of them proclaiming that there has never been a leader
As good as she was
And there never would be again

Queen Greta had to admit to herself that she was starting to feel
Not-so-forthcoming for a monarch who was once labeled
Queen Greta the Forthcoming
By roving bands of marauders, no less

After all, who could dispute what was being said about her?
Her enemies and opponents
--And yes, she had enemies and opponents
What ruler didn't?--
All of them were dead
And had been dead for decades
Just as she had been

Was it fair of her to accept all this praise
Without criticism to match it?

For her, the tour was a success
But for her country, the results were mixed

Despite her best efforts, she was still a relic of the past
An item of nostalgia
And her country was a very present thing
And present things were very often unpopular

So after her last stop in Bulgaria
She found herself sitting alone
At a train station
Wondering what to do next

She didn't look forward to dying again
And she couldn't simply go back to being dead
One did have to re-die if he or she expected
To rejoin a state of expiration

As she sat at on a bench at the station
Contemplating whether or not she should be a cliche
And simply throw herself onto the tracks
A little boy came up and sat next to her

--You're very pretty, he said
--Why, aren't you sweet, she replied

She usually carried candy of some sort on her at all times
So that when she met children
She could give them a treat
But she'd given away all her sweets in Spain
Where the children all seemed to mouths full of sweet teeth

--Are you somebody, the little boy asked
--Yes, I--

But she stopped herself
Took a moment
And then said--

--Well, I used to be

She thought of her prime minister
And how hard it must be for him
To compete with a legend
Instead of just a person

Somebody who could never really be tarnished
Who would always enjoy the sunshine of the past
And the positive glow of forgetfulness

I should send him a card, she thought to herself
But what would it say?

She sat with the little boy for a bit longer
Until his mother called to him
And then they had to board a train
Back to their farm in the country

Queen Greta wished them safe and happy travels

--You too, said the little boy

Greta smiled and thought about where her next stop would be

Now that she was a person of the world again
Life suddenly seemed like something
That, like many things
Looked much better
From the other side

The Caveman and The Comet

The next time this comet runs towards us
It'll be eight thousand years from now
And our children's children
Will be but memories
Of dust and wind

That's if it doesn't hit us this time
Which it might

Everyone sleeps
Because we sleep
Because being awake makes us nervous
And although slumber is difficult
We tell ourselves stories
And run and jump
And tire ourselves out

That is why you see piles of resting people
Spread out all over the land

Some tried to shelter themselves
Hiding in caves
Digging holes
Some just started walking towards...

Well, towards who knows what

Me, I just sit here
Legs crossed
Arms out
Looking up

Part of me hopes the comet will come down
Right on top of me
And that'll be it

No fires, no big waves from the water
Nothing but a blinding light
And then silence

I don't know what comes after
Because I have no idea what came before
And because what came before doesn't frighten me
Because, you see, it's already happened
I see it as a sign
That I am not meant to fear what's to come
For one day it will be behind me

And when there is nothing left to put behind me
I will have completed my journey
And that is something to be proud of

Others have familes, children
And they are concerned
And I understand

I would want my children to live forever
Long past me
Long past their own grandchildren
Who I will never meet

I would like to think of them as immortal
But they are not
The same way I am not

I kissed them on their heads
As they lay next to their mother
And I told them everything would be all right
Knowing very well it might not be

When my first child was born
My own father was his deathbed
And when I asked him what advice he had for me
About being a parent
He only spoke two words:

'Stay Calm'

I asked him what you do when you can't stay calm
And he said one word:

'Lie'

And then he died

You'd be amazed how far that advice has taken me

My children are asleep
Because Dad didn't seem to be too nervous

My wife knows better
She's got her eyes closed
But I can tell her she's awake
And trying not to cry

I leaned over to kiss her before I came to sit out here
And I whispered to her
Something I won't repeat her
Because some things should stay
Between a husband and his wife

As I sit and wait
An animal makes its way over to me
And begins to press its face
Against my leg

They won't have these animals on Earth
Eight thousand years from now
But they'll have something similar
Although much friendlier

These creatures are normally not fond of us, the humans
But this one seems to want a truce

I suppose no living thing
Can stand being on its own
For very long
Especially when death
Is approaching

Animals disappear when we wound them
During the hunt
They like to die in peace
But the world feels softer
Now that it may be ending
And somehow colder
And everyone is seeking heat
Of some kind or another

I gather up the animal in my arms
And it does not resist me

We sit together
Two breathing organisms
That cannot understand each other
And yet know exactly
What the other is thinking

It is then that I look around
And realize all those piles of people
My friends and neighbors
Have started to slowly move towards each other
Into one big pile

Those who were hidden have come out
And huddled up against those were not hidden
And families have put their arms around each other
Even while asleep

Many years from now
They will talk about how this way of life
Was brought to an end

By a comet
And its consequences

But they will not talk about this
Because they will not know

How there was a prevailing over nature
Because, even at its most beautiful
Nature is, in its essence
Cold and unfeeling

It does not live, it occurs
It attacks
It is to be dealt with

And our victory over it
Is this moment
Of warmth
And community
And kindness

One day they will say we were barbarians
That we were simple and ignorant
That we had no culture
No creativity
No beautiful words

But I wonder...

If the comet misses us
Only to eight thousands years from now
What will people do then?

Will they come out of their houses
Houses much bigger than ours
Will they lay down on the ground or the grass
Or in the dirt

Will they all cling to each other
Desperately to each other
The way we are now?

Or will they choose to die alone
And stay with that choice
Believing in it
To the very end of their existence?

Who can say?

I only know one thing for certain
In this moment
Of great uncertainty

And that is what my last thought will be
If it is my last thought

My last thought will be--

My goodness

What a beautiful night

Justin Bieber Explains Music to John and Paul

     (JUSTIN BIEBER is in a boat fishing with JOHN LENNON and PAUL MCCARTNEY.  JOHN and PAUL aren't really fishing, just drinking beer and strumming on ukeleles.  JUSTIN seems really focused on catching something.)

JUSTIN: Nothing's biting today.

PAUL:  You want to put down the fishing pole and write some music with us right now?  Seems better than talking about it all day long.

JUSTIN:  We're here to fish.

PAUL:  Sometimes you go to fish and you catch a song instead.

JOHN:  Or you get drunk.

PAUL:  Or you get drunk, right.

JUSTIN:  I told you guys.  Today is about learning, not about music.  You gotta walk before you can run.  Now what kind of music are you interested in?

JOHN:  There aren't 'kinds' of music.  Just music.

JUSTIN:  Okay, well that's just stupid.  That's like saying there aren't 'kind's of ice cream.

JOHN:  There aren't.  If it makes you feel good, it's music.  If it makes you feel good, it's ice cream.

PAUL:  That could be a song.  If it makes you--

JUSTIN:  Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Don't go writing anything.  I let you bring those ukeleles, but I'll throw them overboard if you guys start getting ahead of yourselves.

JOHN:  Sometimes you just have to dive in, man.

JUSTIN:  Well yeah, if I throw your ukeleles into the lake you will.

PAUL:  When do you usually write your music?

JUSTIN:  Well...it's...if I'm...like...at night.

JOHN:  What sort of stuff do you write?

JUSTIN:  I write a lot about...girls--a girl.  You know, whatever girl I'm--and sometimes things that are bothering me, I'll write about that kinda thing.

JOHN:  Injustice?

PAUL:  The unsung heroes?

JUSTIN:  Yeah, a lot of those--kinds of songs.

JOHN:  Sing something for us.

JUSTIN:  I really can't.  I mean, not unless you're going to pay me.

PAUL:  What if you just recite it?

JUSTIN:  Huh?

PAUL:  Music is poetry, wouldn't you say?  And you recite poetry, don't you?

JUSTIN:  Oh my God, constantly.  I'm always reciting poetry.  You know that book about the cat?  And the kids?  And the talking fish?  I'm always saying that one and going 'Whoa, it's crazy how much this applies to my life.'

JOHN:  Are you talking about the Cat in the Bloody Hat?

JUSTIN:  Uh...no, there's...another one.

PAUL:  Just say some of your stuff for us, mate.

JOHN:  Anything at all.

PAUL:  How else are we going to learn?

JUSTIN:  Okay, okay, um...

     (He clears his throat.)

You know you love me, I know you care
Just shout whenever, and I'll be there
You are my love, you are my heart
And we will never, ever, ever be apart

Are we an item? Girl, quit playin'
'We're just friends,' what are you sayin'?
Said 'there's another,' and looked right in my eyes
My first love broke my heart for the first time

PAUL:  That's not half bad.

JOHN:  I like the part where he tells her to quit playin'.  I've said that before.

PAUL:  Very universal.

JOHN:  Very.

PAUL:  Very.

JUSTIN:  Yeah, so that's pretty much it.

PAUL:  What about the chorus?

JUSTIN:  What?

PAUL:  Is there a chorus?

JOHN:  Do you not have a chorus?

JUSTIN:  I mean, I have a chorus, but--a chorus is a chorus, right?

JOHN:  But I want to find out what happens.  Did she quit playin'?

PAUL:  Just rattle it off for us.

JUSTIN:  Uh, well, it goes, uh...

Remember to let her into your heart

 

PAUL:  No, that's my song.

 

JUSTIN:  You wrote that?

 

PAUL:  Yeah.

 

JUSTIN:  Damn, that's really good.

 

PAUL:  Thanks.

 

JOHN:  How does yours go?

 

JUSTIN:  Uh, oh right, mine, um, it's...it goes...

 

And I was like baby, baby, baby............Oh
Like baby, baby, baby............................No
Like baby, baby, baby............................Oh
I thought you'd always be mine.............Mine

     (A beat.)

PAUL/JOHN:  Well, that was interesting./They play that on the radio?

JUSTIN:  It's...I mean, it has meaning to...you know, if you relate to...the kids like it.

JOHN:  What's the song called?

JUSTIN:  ...Baby.

JOHN:  So...all right.

PAUL:  You know, Justin's right, if we're going to fish, we might as well fish.

JUSTIN:  Yeah, let's get back to that.

     (JOHN and PAUL pick up their poles.  A moment goes by.)

JOHN:  Is the second verse any--

PAUL:  John, leave it alone.

JOHN:  All right, all right.

     (JOHN starts humming 'Baby.')

JOHN:  It is catchy, I'll give you that.

JUSTIN:  Thank you.

JOHN:  Very catchy.

     (He continues to hum, as they all wait for something to bite.)

Channing Tatum Explains Dramatic Structure to Henrik Ibsen

     (CHANNING TATUM and HENRIK IBSEN are facing each other in a dance studio.  Both are dressed in athletic gear.  HENRIK looks amazing.)

HENRIK:  What are we doing here?

CHANNING:  I'm going to teach you how to write a play, big man.

HENRIK:  I am of average size.

CHANNING:  It's a joke.

     (A moment.)

HENRIK:  I fail to find the humor in that.

CHANNING:  That's because you don't know funny.

HENRIK:  Or it was a poor joke.  Much like most of your career.

CHANNING:  See, now THAT was funny!

HENRIK:  I was being serious.

CHANNING:  Man, you're hard to read!  Luckily, I don't read good, so we don't have to worry too much.

HENRIK:  Did you bring me here to kill me?

CHANNING:  Dude, it's Crossfit gym.

HENRIK:  I assume this is where Americans go to die?

CHANNING:  Well, yeah, but--

HENRIK:  I thought you were going to help me with my writing?

CHANNING:  I am!  And writing is like dancing, and I know dancing.  Take your pants off.

HENRIK:  Excuse me?

CHANNING:  You can't move well the way you're dressed.  We do this in our underwear.

HENRIK:  Must we?

CHANNING:  Yeah, we must, dude.

HENRIK:  What sort of sinful waltz are you going to teach me?

CHANNING:  Yo, one of my straight-to-videos was called 'Sinful Waltz.'  You can't even get that shit on eBay anymore.

HENRIK:  I'm leaving my pants off.

CHANNING:  Suit yourself.

     (CHANNING takes his pants off.  HENRIK is mortified.)

HENRIK:  Have you ever written anything?

CHANNING:  Uh, YEAH.  The first three drafts of Magic Mike and, like, two scenes in The Vow that I improvised on the spot.

HENRIK:  Were those performed by professionals?

CHANNING:  Professional badasses?  Yeah, they were.

HENRIK:  You speak like a Norwegian gutter girl.

CHANNING:  Yo, what kinda kinky shit you into, Henny Penny?

HENRIK:  Let us please begin.

CHANNING:  In order to write, you have to think about where you're going, where you want to go, whose face you're going to put your junk in.

HENRIK:  I shall not smear my garbage onto the countenance of another.

CHANNING:  That's what theater is, Hen!  It's getting in people's faces!  Putting your lone wolf right where they can see it and being like 'This is my art, bitch!'

HENRIK:  I fear you have no soul.

CHANNING:  Writing's gotta be spontaneous, free-flowing, rhythmic--

     (CHANNING grabs HENRIK and the two begin to dance.  HENRIK resists at first, but CHANNING seduces him into a slow, sensual tango.)

HENRIK:  Never speak about this.

CHANNING:  About what?

HENRIK:  Talk on my work.  Criticize it.  Rip it apart.  I am in your hands and I shall stay there for as long as you'll have me.

CHANNING:  All your plays have sad endings.

HENRIK:  Life's endings are often sad.

CHANNING:  Dude, not all the time.  Look at us!  You're a famous playwright and I'm AWESOME.  Put the sad stuff in the beginning and then make the ending fun and happy!  Unless you want like a twisty play where, like, Hedda Gabler can die in the first five minutes and everybody's like 'Whoa!  This play's called 'Hedda Gabler' and now Hedda's dead!  What the fuck?'

HENRIK:  Go on.

CHANNING:  Doll House?  Lame House.  Give Nora a gun and start shooting shit up.  Then you'll have a play on your hands.

HENRIK:  Perhaps I could give Nora Hedda's gun?

CHANNING:  Yeah, whatever.  You know these people aren't real, right?

HENRIK:  In my mind's eye--

CHANNING:  Oh!  Wild Duck?  Two words for you:  The first one is Tobey.  And the second one is Maguire.  That dude can save almost anything.

HENRIK:  What else?

CHANNING:  Peer Gynt.  I don't know what it's about, and I don't know want to know what it's about.  And that's because you don't know how to come up with a good title.  Call it Car Chase.

HENRIK:  But there isn't a car chase in it.  There isn't even a car.

CHANNING:  Yeah and there isn't a John in Dear John but so what?

HENRIK:  Could it not be that your character's name was John?

CHANNING:  ...Ohhhhhhh...right.

HENRIK:  It doesn't matter.  None of it matters.  All that matters is the dance.

    (CHANNING dips HENRIK.  When they came up, something has changed.  They separate.)

CHANNING:  Goddammit, Henrik.

HENRIK:  What?  What have I done?

CHANNING:  I can't help you if you make me fall in love with you.

HENRIK:  You...you love me?

CHANNING:  No, dude!  That shit's dialogue right there!  You can use that.  Free of charge.

HENRIK:  Oh...I see.

CHANNING:  Now--you want to hear my theory on the fourth wall?

HENRIK:  You mean bridging the distance between yourself and the audience?

CHANNING:  Nah, like how if you have a theater you have to have a fourth wall or you'll be cold all the time.

HENRIK:  Something about you screams genius.  Perhaps it's the beauty in your eyes.  But I can't help but feel that you're incredibly intelligent.

CHANNING:  You know what, Henrik?  I get that a lot.

     (CHANNING laughs as HENRIK slowly begins to fall in love.)

Samuel L. Jackson Explains Nuclear Fission to Otto Hahn

     (SAMUEL L. JACKSON is sitting at a table in an interrogation room.  OTTO HAHN is brought in by two guards with a cloth bag over his head.  When the GUARDS shove him into his seat, one removes the cloth bag, and they BOTH exit the room closing the door behind them.)

SAMUEL:  Hello Otto.

OTTO:  You son-of-a-bitch.

SAMUEL:  I wouldn't go talking if I were you.  I'd just sit there and listen.

OTTO:  Are you going to kill me?

SAMUEL:  That depends on you.  You wanna die?

OTTO:  No.

SAMUEL:  Then you'll be just fine.  People who want to live tend to behave better than those who don't.  At least in my experience.

OTTO:  What do you want?

SAMUEL:  I'm going to explain nuclear fission to you, Otto.  And if I get it right, I want you to say 'That's right' and if I've got it wrong, I need you to help me get it right.  You got that?

OTTO:  What do you need with nuclear fission?

SAMUEL:  Now why would you want to concern yourself with unnecessary information?  Or as we in the business like to call it--shit that'll get you killed.

OTTO:  Are you trying to take over Bolivia again?

SAMUEL:  Again?  Motherfucker, if I wanted to take over Bolivia it would only take me one try.

OTTO:  This is a joke.  You don't know anything about nuclear fission.

SAMUEL:  Oh I don't?  Then how would I know that it's either a nuclear reaction or a radioactive decay process in which the nucleus of a particle splits into smaller parts?

OTTO:  You looked that up on Wikipedia.

SAMUEL:  I'll Wiki your dick if you're not careful, motherfucker.

OTTO:  What does that even mean?

SAMUEL:  Don't worry about it.

OTTO:  It sounds gay.

SAMUEL:  I SAID NOT TO WORRY ABOUT IT!

     (A beat.)

OTTO:  What else do you know?

SAMUEL:  I know what Fritz told me.

OTTO:  Fritz Strassman?  You got to him?

SAMUEL:  He sang like a canary taking a shit on Christmas.

OTTO:  I don't--okay.

SAMUEL:  Told me about the photons.  The protons.  The Motowns.  The Deftones.  The ringtones.  The Home Alone's.

OTTO:  You know, for a second, I actually started to worry that you were capable of doing real damage with the knowledge I could give you.

SAMUEL:  Bitch, I know about nuclear transmutation.

OTTO:  That's not going to get you anywhere.

SAMUEL:  I think it will, Otto.  I think it will.

OTTO:  You need me to connect the dots.  Put the pieces together.  All you have is a lot of puzzle pieces that you can't put together.

SAMUEL:  That's why you're here.

OTTO:  It won't work.  It would take me years to teach you what I know.  Months even!

SAMUEL:  Months is less than years.

OTTO:  Yeah, I know, I thought about it, and 'years' seemed like a stretch.

SAMUEL:  I got all the time in the world, Otto.

OTTO:  And what are you going to do with me once I'm done helping you.

SAMUEL:  You'll be released.

OTTO:  A likely story.

SAMUEL:  As soon as you're finished watching every movie I've ever been in.

     (A pause.)

OTTO:  What?

SAMUEL:  Gotta keep you in line, Otto.  Gotta remind you who's boss.  Besides, I think it's about time you started appreciating my acting prowess.

OTTO:  But I won't live long enough to watch all those movies.  And even if I did--you want me to watch The Spirit?  Jumper?  Resurrecting the Champ?

SAMUEL:  It'll be over before you--

OTTO:  Kill me.

SAMUEL:  What?

OTTO:  You heard me.

SAMUEL:  Otto, think about what you're saying.

OTTO:  I'd rather die than watch Freedomland.  Kill me.

SAMUEL:  Otto--

OTTO:  Fine.  I'll tell you about nuclear fission.  I'll tell you anything you want to know.  Just please don't make me watch that XXX sequel.

SAMUEL:  This is--

OTTO:  Getting Ice Cube to replace Vin Diesel?  What were you thinking?

SAMUEL:  I didn't cast the damn--Hey, shut up!

OTTO:  Get me a pen and paper.  I'll write down everything you need to know.

SAMUEL:  Well, that was...easy.  I'll be right back.

     (He starts to leave.)

SAMUEL:  Oh, but while I'm gone, someone's going to take you into the viewing room and show you Coach Carter and S.W.A.T.

OTTO:  What?!?

SAMUEL:  A little double feature.

OTTO:  No!

SAMUEL:  See you on the flip side, Otto.

OTTO:  No!

     (SAMUEL leaves.)

OTTO:  Nooooooooo!

     (The lights go out.)

Charlton Heston Explains Chimpanzees to Jane Goodall

     (The year is 1996.  CHARLTON HESTON is in bed with JANE GOODALL.  They're having a conversation after having just made love several times.  JANE might smoke, she probably does in fact.  CHARLTON gazes out her make-shift window into the jungle.)

CHARLTON:  They're watching us.

JANE:  You're paranoid.

CHARLTON:  I know what I'm talking about, Jane.  I've seen it.

JANE:  You've seen them watching us?

CHARLTON:  No, I've seen what happens when you underestimate the beasts.

JANE:  The chimps aren't fascinated by human love-making.  They'd be more interested in watching us knit.

CHARLTON:  What do I look like, woman?  A German housefrau?

     (JANE begins to get up, using the blanket to shield her nakedness.)

JANE:  I'm going to make myself some tea.  Would you like some?

CHARLTON:  Do you have any peppered rum?

JANE:  I don't believe I do, no.

CHARLTON:  My God, you really are roughing it, aren't you?

JANE:  I don't need much, Mr. Heston.  Just my work and a few basic necessities.

 CHARLTON:  Mr. Heston?  Woman, we just made love for twelve hours.  Will you please refer to me as Master?

JANE:  Whatever you prefer.

CHARLTON:  And I can see you don't have a single weapon here to defend yourself with when those apes finally bust in here and make you their concubine.

JANE:  They're not apes, they're chimps.

CHARLTON:  They're all the same!  Apes, chimps, beatniks--

JANE:  They're perfectly peaceful.  And I've developed a sort of rapport with them, actually.

CHARLTON:  A lot of good that rapport will do you when they're making you wear a bikini made out of banana peels.

JANE:  That doesn't sound all that bad.

CHARLTON:  It depends who's locked in the cage with you.

JANE:  I've been living here for quite some time and I've never noticed the chimps to be unjustifiably violent.

CHARLTON:  That's because they're waiting.  Can't you see that?  They're waiting until you let your guard down and then they'll attack!

JANE:  But I've been here for years!

CHARLTON:  And for years, they've been stockpiling ammunition in the bushes!  Digging holes!  Setting up booby traps!  You have to play offense on this, Jane.  You can't just write in your little notebook about how cute the Mama Chimp is when her baby's suckling on the teat!  Jesus, woman, are you really as blind as I think you are?

JANE:  I'm truly sorry if you've had a bad experience in the past, but I can assure you, the chimps are perfectly peaceful.

CHARLTON:  You really are a fool, aren't you?  Your womanly parts are clouding your judgment.  You see something small and pitiful and covered with fur, and you have to tell yourself it's probably not that bad when really it's just a pile of disappointment.

JANE:  You just described exactly what I was thinking before we made love.

CHARLTON:  Jane, I didn't want to leave you alone out here with these beasts, but I'm not going to waste my time trying to convince you either.  If you won't be civilized about this and let me throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here, then we have nothing left to talk about.

JANE:  I suppose we're done here then.

CHARLTON:  Fine.  Would you like to have sex one more time before I go?

JANE:  I think I'm good.  I forgot how unpleasant men can smell.

CHARLTON:  You're saying I smell unpleasant?  You spend days on end with unwashed primates.

JANE:  ...I forgot how unpleasant men can smell.

CHARLTON:  Good luck, Jane.  I'll wave to you from across the field of action when the revolution finally begins.

JANE:  Or you'll just die an old man and I'll send a sensible bouquet to your funeral.

CHARLTON:  Burn in hell, monkey lover.

JANE:  Lovely seeing you as well.

     (CHARLTON exits.  JANE waits a moment, goes over to her bedside table, and takes two cans connected by a string out of the drawer.  She tosses one of the cans out the window and puts the other one up to her ear.  After a few seconds--)

JANE:  It's me.  He's gone.  That was a close one.  I'm sorry, Commander, it won't happen again.  We're still on track for 2014.  No, he's a bombastic idiot.  Nobody will pay any attention to him.  Yes, I'll see you at dinner.  Good-bye.

     (She pulls the can back in, and puts both cans in the drawer, then shuts it and sits down on the bed.  In the distance, we hear the sounds of chimps laughing maniacally.)

Twenty Seconds

Twenty seconds
And I quit because...

Because my mom stayed twenty years
And they were lies

All day, everyday
Every second of it--dishonest

And I didn't want to do that so--

You're looking at me and say
That I didn't try

But I know why I didn't try
I didn't try because the result
Would have been the same

And trying would be like saying--

'Maybe this could work'

When I know
And I don't know how I know
But I just know
Deep down
That it won't

And it's not because
I don't want it to

It would be easier
It would be easier to lie too
But...

Twenty seconds in
I looked at you
And for twenty seconds
I wasn't myself

I was somebody
In a moment
That wasn't authentic

And that's not guru nonsense either
It's not from a self-help book
You know I don't read that shit
It's just what it was

My life was clear
And at some point
It started to fog
And in that foggy moment
I looked and everything was clear
Except you

You were the one thing left
I still couldn't see

It was like the opposite of a tunnel
If I tried to move towards you
I'd just be getting lost again

Not in you
But away from myself

So I broke
I severed
I stepped back

Twenty seconds
And I could see again

The truth was a knife
On the infection
One cut
And the tension's gone
The swelling goes down
It hurts
But it's healing
Already

I could have waited to do it
But who knows how much time I had?

Thirty seconds could have been
Too late

Kanye Explains Women to God

     (GOD and KANYE are at a karaoke bar.  The Gap Band's "You Dropped a Bomb on Me" is playing.)

KANYE:  Women, you know?

GOD:  Yeah.

KANYE:  Women.

GOD:  Yup.

KANYE:  Boy...you really fucked that up.

GOD:  What?

KANYE:  Women.

GOD:  Right.

KANYE:  Yeeeeeeeah.

GOD:  I fucked them up?

KANYE:  You fucked them up BAD.

GOD:  How do you figure?

KANYE:  Have you ever met a woman?

GOD:  Many.

KANYE:  Crazy, right?

GOD:  Not all of them.  And some men--

KANYE:  I got this woman--

GOD:  You mean--

KANYE:  I'm not naming names.  I'm just saying I have a woman.

GOD:  Kim.

KANYE:  We can call her Kim.

GOD:  You are talking about Kim, right?

KANYE:  I could be talking about a lot of people.

GOD:  But you're talking about Kim.

KANYE:  So let's say this woman--

GOD:  Kim.

KANYE:  --Whatever--let's say she's crazy.

GOD:  You can say she's crazy.  I'll go along with that.

KANYE:  She makes sex tapes, she gets married for a couple of hours and then divorced, she has, like, seven television shows--

GOD:  Right.

KANYE:  And then one day she texts you.  Says 'What's up?'  You say 'Nm u?'  She says 'Bored.'  You say 'Cool.'  She says 'Wanna come by?'  You say 'K.'  Next thing you know, you have a baby and you're married to her.  Tell me that's not fucked up.

GOD:  Did other stuff happen in between you saying 'K' and the two of you having a kid?

KANYE:  God, I don't need to explain the birds and the bees to you, do I?

GOD:  No, I invented both the birds and the bees.

KANYE:  Exactly.  I'm just trying to explain women to you.

GOD:  Right.

KANYE:  See, she trapped me.

GOD:  How do you figure?

KANYE:  She tricked me into having a baby!

GOD:  How did she do that?  I mean, when you got to her house, was there a hole in the front yard covered up by leaves?  Did you fall into it only to find yourself stuck in a pit with her, both your legs broken, so that you were at her mercy?  So that she could then subdue you, undress you, and then take you like some sort of concubine?  And after that was all over and she had been impregnated, what made you feel you HAD to marry her?  Was there blackmail involved?  Did she know something about you that you'd rather other people not find out?  Like, for example, that you actually enjoy the company of men or that your genitalia is unnaturally small?  Is that how that went?

     (A beat.)

KANYE:  Yeah, none of that happened.

GOD:  So the word 'trick'--

KANYE:  God--

GOD:  When you say she 'tricked' you--

KANYE:  Listen, I'm a man, okay?  I have desires.  I have urges.  And when I have those urges, I'm weak.  She caught me at a weak moment.

GOD:  You were watching Nurse Jackie, weren't you?

KANYE:  How do you know I get turned on by Edie Falco?

GOD:  Why do you still try to hide things from me, Kanye?  You know I don't buy into your bullshit.  I'm not the music critic from Rolling Stone.

KANYE:  Can't you see I'm wrestling demons.

GOD:  Are you talking about your in-laws?

KANYE:  They won't stop until I do a Kim and Kanye Show.  Ryan Seacrest is at my house every night.  EVERY NIGHT.  That man is charming as fuck, Lord.  He must be sent from the Devil.

GOD:  He is.

KANYE:  Really?

GOD:  No, I'm just screwing with you.

KANYE:  You can't be doing that to me, God!  I'm all twisted inside.  I gotta go on my mother-in-law's talk show this afternoon and do a cooking segment with her about how to make your own baby food.

GOD:  Why don't you just say 'No?'

KANYE:  I try to, but then Kim uses her feminine wiles on me--

GOD:  She puts on the nurse costume?

KANYE:  And she starts talking with that Jersey accent like Carmela Soprano.  It's too much.

GOD:  Kanye, did it ever occur to you that I didn't make women crazy, I just made men easy to manipulate?

KANYE:  Why would you do that?

GOD:  I don't know.  Maybe because I'm a woman?

     (KANYE looks at GOD for a second.)

KANYE:  No, you're not.

GOD:  I could be.

KANYE:  But you're not.

GOD:  But I might be.

KANYE:  Are you screwing with me again?

GOD:  I don't know.  Am I?

KANYE:  Man, you're just crazy.

GOD:  So then, according to your theory, wouldn't I be a woman?

     (A pause.)

KANYE:  Whoaaaa...

GOD:  Finish your drink.

KANYE:  I--

GOD:  Come on, we're going to be up soon.  I put in 'Little Red Corvette.'  You know that one, right?

KANYE:  Yeah, I know it.

GOD:  Good.

KANYE:  So God could be a woman?

GOD:  I could be.

KANYE:  Wow.

     (A short pause.  KANYE looks at GOD, smiles.)

KANYE:  So what's up?

     (The opening words of 'Little Red Corvette' begin to play.)

Carol Channing Explains Friendship to Mark Zuckerberg

     (CAROL CHANNING is at MARK ZUCKERBERG's house.  She's in his hot tub actually.  He's making some hot dogs on the grill.)

CAROL:  But I don't KNOW her!

MARK:  Carol, I'm right here.  You don't have to yell.

CAROL:  Was I YELLING?

MARK:  Yes.

CAROL:  I'm sorry, honey.  The war did that to me.

MARK:  Which war?

CAROL:  POKEMON!

MARK:  I'm sorry?

CAROL:  Anyway, she's not my friend.  She's nobody's friend.  I don't want her to know what I'm doing with my time.

MARK:  But you know her.

CAROL:  Of course I KNOW her!  And Bette Davis knew Little Richard, but they HATED each other!

MARK:  Did they?

CAROL:  That was just an example.  What I mean is--I'm not going to 'friend' her because we're not friends.  If you're 'friends' with someone you LIKE them.  I don't LIKE her.  I LOATHE her.  Is there a button for that?  If you LOATHE somebody?

MARK:  No, not yet.  We tested a program like it in Bulgaria but it caused a civil war.

CAROL:  DONUT HOLE!

MARK:  We talked about this.  No dessert until you eat your dinner.

CAROL:  This hot tub is fabulous, Mark.  FABULOUS.

MARK:  I heard you, I heard you.

CAROL:  CHEESEBURGER!

MARK:  Your doctor told me not to feed you dairy.  He said you can only process raw meat and almond butter.

CAROL:  You know so much about me, Mark.  See, YOU'RE my FRIEND.  Not that old bat.  I'd hit your button!

MARK:  Please don't say that.

CAROL:  BUT I WOULD!

MARK:  You can't just be friends with people you're actually friends with, Carol.  It's not just about friendship, it's about the people who exist in your life--good and bad.

CAROL:  Then shouldn't you call it something else, dear?

MARK:  It's...evolved from what it once was, but once you have a label--

CAROL:  SANTA CLAUS!

MARK:  Just friend her already, Carol!

CAROL:  I'd rather not.

MARK:  You know her, so friend her.  It's as simple as that.

CAROL:  But then the word 'friend' doesn't mean anything.

MARK:  It DOESN'T mean anything.  Not anymore.  It's an antiquated notion.  Everybody has two groups of people in their life--the people they're jealous of, and the people they're better than.  That's it.

CAROL:  My goodness, you're sad, poor thing.  Is it because you're a ginger?

MARK:  No.

CAROL:  Mickey Rooney was a ginger.  And a hell of a fox trotter.

MARK:  Please stop.

CAROL:  Or was that Burt Lancaster?

MARK:  Carol, I'm begging you--

CAROL:  MICROWAVE!

MARK:  CAROL I'M UNFRIENDING YOU!

     (A beat.)

CAROL:  You are?

MARK:  Yes.  I'm sorry, but--all you do is post pictures of your elbows, and they're so awful--

CAROL:  Oh.

MARK:  --And you don't know the difference between your inbox and your wall.  You keep posting things on my timeline asking if I think the thing on your elbow is infected, and I think it is, but--

CAROL:  I see.

MARK:  I just--can't deal with you on there anymore.  I mean, in life, sure, you're a hoot, but--

CAROL:  Well, that's fine, dear.

MARK:  ...Really?

CAROL:  Of course, honey, it's just some stupid website.  Who cares if we're friends on there or not?  As long as we're friends in real life.

MARK:  Well--okay.

CAROL:  How are those dogs coming?

MARK:  Uh...should be done in a second.  I left yours raw like your doctor--

CAROL:  That's lovely, dear.

MARK:  Good.

CAROL:  Just lovely.

MARK:  Good.

CAROL:  One more thing--

MARK:  Yes?

CAROL:  Are we still friends on Myspace?

MARK:  That's not funny, Carol.

CAROL:  Are you sure, dear?  It tickled me pink.

     (She laughs.  MARK smiles.  The hot dogs burn slightly.)