Sonny Boy

(A living room.  DAMIEN is handcuffed to a chair.  PHIL enters and starts whittling.)

PHIL:  You want a drink?

DAMIEN:  Yes.

PHIL:  Water?

DAMIEN:  Water?  Screw you.

PHIL:  Water’s the best I can do for you, Damien.  I bought some bottled water at the store.  The one out of the tap is a goner, for now.  Probably cut the water supply just in case.

DAMIEN:  Who did?

PHIL:  The government?  How the hell should I know?

DAMIEN:  You don’t have your typical bottle of Scotch lying around?

PHIL:  Tossed it.  All of it.  Poured it out into the dirt.

DAMIEN:  Are you kidding me, man?

PHIL:  Don’t call me ‘man.’  I’m your father.  Call me Phil.

DAMIEN:  What’s the idea here, Phil?  What’s your endgame?

PHIL:  Pretty simple, actually.  You’re going to stay handcuffed to that chair until the comet hits.  I figure that means two to three solid days of no drinking.  Should be enough to wipe your system clean.  You’re young, after all.

DAMIEN:  Is this a joke?

PHIL:  Well, let’s see.  Try to get out of those handcuffs.

(DAMIEN thrashes.  He’s still chained to the chair.)

--Guess it’s no joke.

DAMIEN:  Are you really whittling right now?  Who the hell are you?  An Andy Griffith character?

PHIL:  You are going to get mean.  That’s part of the deal.

DAMIEN:  Do you even know what you’re doing?

PHIL:  Unless you’re on other stuff too.  In which case, you’re going to get a lot more than mean.

DAMIEN:  I could get seriously sick from you doing this, you know.  I could die.

PHIL:  Sonny boy, we’re all going to die.  It’s my job to make sure you don’t, but I can’t do that job so I gotta do another.  I’m going to make sure you die clean and pure as the day you were born.  Or close to it anyway.

DAMIEN:  Good luck, dude.

PHIL:  Don’t call me dude.  I’m not your dude.

DAMIEN:  Yeah, you’re not my anything.  You got that?  You and I aren’t anything.

PHIL:  If you’re referring to the fact that I was a bad father, that’s a matter of opinion.  Either way, being a drunk is no good.  And dying a drunk is even worse.  Maybe if you had your whole life ahead of you, you’d have time to get yourself straightened out, but it appears you don’t have that luxury so this is going to have to be a rushjob.

DAMIEN:  You’re the reason I drink.

PHIL:  That’s probably true.  You should take up a hobby.  Like kickboxing or stealing cars.

DAMIEN:  You know, nobody knows for sure when that comet’s coming.  It could be here in an hour.  I could die chained up to this chair.

PHIL:  Yes, you could.  But since you’re already chained to your addiction—

DAMIEN:  Oh Christ, Phil—

PHIL:  It’s all the same, Sonny Boy.  At the end of the day, everything you got tying you down is a chain.

DAMIEN:  Who turned you into a motivational speaker?  The Lord?

PHIL:  You know I don’t do church.

DAMIEN:  I should have known better than to come here.

PHIL:  You came because you’re broke and you needed money.  That’s how I knew you were really in trouble.  I know you hate me and I know how much pride you have because I’m the one you inherited it from.  If you’re so desperate, you’re taking my money you must really be bad off.

DAMIEN:  Sorry I thought you could help me.  Should have known better.

PHIL:  For somebody who hates me so much, you seem pretty hell-bent on making all the same choices I did.

DAMIEN:  You see me with a kid?

PHIL:  You saying Ali’s not pregnant?

(A beat.)

DAMIEN:  Who the hell told you?

PHIL:  Your mother.

DAMIEN:  Mom doesn’t talk to you.  She hates your guts.

PHIL:  Maybe she got a little desperate too.  Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.

DAMIEN:  This is your fire?  Handcuffs?  Where did you even get these?

PHIL:  A hooker.

DAMIEN:  Are you—

PHIL:  Or a stripped.  Or both.  I don’t know.  They’ve been sitting in my drawer.  I knew they’d come in handy one day.

DAMIEN:  Yeah, when you had to kidnap your son.

PHIL:  You looking forward to being a dad?

DAMIEN:  She told me yesterday.  I haven’t really had time to process it yet.

PHIL:  But when you first heard the news, what did you think?  Honestly.

DAMIEN:  I thought…I really want a drink.

PHIL:  Well now we got some honesty going on.

DAMIEN:  What does it matter now, Phil?  If I die a drunk or I die sober, who cares?  There isn’t going to be a baby.  I’m not going to be a dad—

PHIL:  We might still make it, you know.  This world.  People.  We still got a fighting chance.  If that comet goes one inch to the right—

DAMIEN:  Always the dreamer.

PHIL:  You gotta plan on living, kid.  Right up until you die, you gotta assume you’re gonna live.  And if you’re gonna live, you need to straighten the hell up.  Or out.  However you want it.

DAMIEN:  What did you think when you found out Mom was going to have me?

PHIL:  I thought…………..Boy.  I’m really going to screw this up.

DAMIEN:  Is that really what you thought?

PHIL:  Yup.  I know myself too well.  Just like I know you.  That’s why you’re tied to that chair.

DAMIEN:  You know I’m still going to hate you even if I’m sober, right?

PHIL:  You might hate me more.  Because then you won’t be a hypocrite.

DAMIEN:  I might never talk to you again.  I might not let you see my kid.

PHIL:  Considering the situation we find ourselves in, Sonny Boy, that might not be a bad idea.

DAMIEN:  What if my kid turns out like this?  Like you and me?  How we are now?

PHIL:  That scare you?

DAMIEN:  Hell yes, it scares me.  Look at us.

PHIL:  He’s got a chance.  Same as the rest of us.

DAMIEN:  Chances, chances, Phil.  I’d say we’re all out of chances.

PHIL:  See how you’re sitting in that chair?  See how a second just went by?  Then another one, then another one?  Those are chances, kid.  Every minute’s a chance.  Now, maybe I’m taking up a lot of your chances by keeping you here like this, but that’s me taking my chances.

DAMIEN:  I need a drink, Phil.

PHIL:  You’ll get over that.

DAMIEN:  Phil, this is too much, all right?  It’s all too much.  The baby, the comet, Ali, you—this is too much for me.  I can’t deal with it, okay?  I need to just—

PHIL:  What?  Check out?

DAMIEN:  Yes!

PHIL:  Not a chance.  We’re all careening towards this thing with our eyes open.  That’s the only way to go.  If you’re afraid, don’t blink.  If you’re terrified, hold your lids apart and force yourself to see it.  That’s the only way.

DAMIEN:  You’re just a crazy old man.

PHIL:  Yes, I am.  Last week, guys like me were on cardboard boxes in Times Square predicting the end of the world, now they’re on CNN narrating the whole thing while Diane Sawyer’s sitting in her bathtub with all her clothes on trying to remember where she left her keys.

DAMIEN:  What the hell are you talking about?

PHIL:  How the hell should I know?  I had to drink a bottle of Scotch just to work up the nerve to do all this.

DAMIEN:  You said—

PHIL:  The second bottle of Scotch went into the dirt, but the first went down my throat.

DAMIEN:  And you want me—

PHIL:  To be nothing like me?  You got that right.  That’s why we’re just going to sit here.  I figure when I’m sober, you will be too.

DAMIEN:  Then you’ll let me go?

PHIL:  Yeah.  (Slight pause.)  Yeah.

(A beat.)

--Then I’ll let you go.

(He keeps whittling.  DAMIEN closes his eyes.  Maybe PHIL whistles, and maybe he doesn’t.  Another second ticks by.)

The Parking Garage

(A parking garage.  Cars are backed up to the roof, where our characters—MATT and MOLLY—are sitting on the hood of their car.)

MOLLY:  I guess this is as good a spot as any to see a comet.

MATT:  Why are so many people at the mall when the world’s about to end?

MOLLY:  Shopping makes people feel better?

MATT:  I just needed a belt.  I just didn’t want to wear these pants without a belt.

MOLLY:  Well, we did get the belt.  (Slight pause.)  So I guess the night wasn’t a total disaster.

MATT:  What if we really do die here?  On the roof of a parking garage?  I mean, that would be…Should we leave the car?

MOLLY:  We are not leaving my car.  I love my car.

MATT:  It’s just a car.

MOLLY:  It’s my car.  When it’s your car, we can leave it wherever you want.  My grandfather gave me this car.  I am not leaving—this car.

            (A beat.)

MATT:  You hate your grandfather.

MOLLY:  (Before he can even finish.)  --Not the point, Matthew!

            (A beat.)

MATT:  Remember when you said you were going to Bed Bath and Beyond?

MOLLY:  Yeah?

MATT:  Did you really go to Bed Bath and Beyond or did you just say that so you could go to Pacific Sun and see Trevor?

MOLLY:  I went to Bed Bath and Beyond.

MATT:  No, you didn’t.

MOLLY:  Yes,  I did.

MATT:  Molly—

MOLLY:  First I went to Bed Bath and Beyond, and THEN I went to Pacific Sun to see Trevor.  Okay?

MATT:  Was he there?

MOLLY:  No.  He called out sick.

MATT:  He’s at Krista’s house party.

MOLLY:  He wouldn’t be there.  He hates Krista.

                        (MATT checks his phone.)

MATT:  His Facebook status says ‘At Krista’s House Party.  I love this bitch.’

MOLLY:  I didn’t know you could get service up here.

MATT:  Do you want to go to the party?

MOLLY:  No.  I kinda just want to die.

MATT:  Oh.  Well.  You’re in luck.

MOLLY:  He doesn’t even care that I made that Powerpoint for him on World War II.

MATT:  You did that for him?

MOLLY:  Yeah.

MATT:  That Powerpoint was like—really good.

MOLLY:  I know.

MATT:  What is that, like—our generation’s version of doing somebody’s book report for them?

MOLLY:  He said he’d take me to prom.

MATT:  Like, as an exchange?

MOLLY:  Yeah.

MATT:  That’s gay.

MOLLY:  Don’t say ‘that’s gay.’  That’s offensive.

MATT:  No, it’s not.  Homosexuals are known for their love of free trade.

MOLLY:  You weren’t going to go so—

MATT:  I would have gone if you asked me.

MOLLY:  I wasn’t going to ask you, jackoff.  I’m the girl.  Hello!

MATT:  Well, now, nobody’s going to prom.  See what you did?

            (A beat.)

MOLLY:  Wow.  You’re right.  No more proms.  That’s crazy.

MATT:  No more world either, but yes, proms are the primary loss.

MOLLY:  I should have gone with Jimmy Stevens last year when he asked me.

MATT:  Didn’t he eat seventy-three jello cups one day at lunch on a dare?

MOLLY:  Not everybody’s a rogue scholar, Matthew.

MATT:  It’s Rhode—never mind.  If people were watching us, like right now, like—if we were characters in a play, somebody in the audience would say—High school kids don’t talk like this.

MOLLY:  High school kids don’t.  We do.  We’re an anomaly.

MATT:  Maybe that’s why we’re so unhappy.

MOLLY:  Maybe we’re just teenagers.

MATT:  I don’t really know if I am unhappy.  How do you know if you’re unhappy?

MOLLY:  You don’t know until you’re even unhappier.  It’s a Catch-22.

MATT:  Are you surprised nobody else is getting out of their cars and just walking to wherever it is they want to go?

MOLLY:  You can’t walk anywhere good in the time it’ll take for the comet to hit.  And I mean, how sad would it be if the world ended and you’d just made it to, like, a Cumberland Farms or something?  People want to die somewhere cool.  Like at the beach or something.

MATT:  So, Trevor’s going to die at Krista’s party.

MOLLY:  What an idiot.  Why are all men idiots?

MATT:  Why do girls always ask boys why boys are idiots?

MOLLY:  Who else should we ask?

MATT:  Are you sure your grandfather would want you to die on the roof of a mall parking garage just to save his car?

MOLLY:  Yes, he would.  He was that kind of guy.  That’s why we didn’t get along.  Not the point, Matthew.

MATT:  Do you think Krista would have gotten prom queen?

MOLLY:  I think she would have gotten lizard queen first.  She has scales.

MATT:  That’s a skin disorder.

MOLLY:  Nobody with a skin disorder should be that popular.

MATT:  It’s not really noticeable after she puts the cream on.

MOLLY:  Have you ever put the cream on for her?

MATT:  First of all, ew.  Second of all, I told you, we don’t talk to each other anymore.  We just used to date in seventh grade before her boobs came in and then she only dated athletes.

MOLLY:  Life does have its twists and turns, doesn’t it?

MATT:  I’m sad we’re missing the concert.

MOLLY:  I’m sad there’s no definitive activity to be doing when your life is about to be over, and yet, clearly, it shouldn’t be this.

MATT:  If we could be anywhere, at any time, in history or the future, but we could only be there right now, in this moment, for one moment, where and when would we be?

MOLLY:  I’d like to be at my twenty-first birthday.  I’m assuming I’d be drunk.

MATT:  Don’t be so limited.  I’d like to see the year 3000.  See what happens a thousand years after this comet hits.

MOLLY:  I bet…a thousand years from now…two people who look exactly like us will be sitting somewhere..a field or…I don’t know.  On the hood of a car that was once considered a classic.  And they won’t be about to die.  They’ll just be…hanging out.  Enjoying each other’s company.  Wondering what comes next.

            (MATT looks at MOLLY.  Music starts playing.  It’s a sweet song.  Maybe Eric Clapton.  You know which Eric Clapton, right?)

--Wow.  Seriously?  How appropriate.

MATT:  Hey?

            (She looks at him.)

--Dance with me.

            (She thinks about it.)

MOLLY:  Okay.

            (They hop off the hood and proceed to dance.  It’s very prom-y.)

MATT:  How’s it feel being prom queen?

MOLLY:  You’re adorable.

MATT:  Do you wish I was Trevor?

MOLLY:  God, yes.  Who do you wish I was?

MATT:  Someone with a rocket would be nice.

MOLLY:  I’m going to tell you something.  Something nice.  And I need you to not cry.

MATT:  Have you ever seen me cry?

MOLLY:  I’m just saying—Don’t cry.  If you cry, I’ll cry, and I don’t want to cry, but—You’re my favorite person in the world.

MATT:  I think I’m going to cry.

MOLLY:  Really?

MATT:  No, not at all.  But I appreciate the thought.

MOLLY:  You’re a jerk.

MATT:  But I’m still your favorite person.

MOLLY:  Jesus.

MATT:  You said it, you can’t take it back.  It’s locked in.

MOLLY:  Fine.  Maybe we’ll both get our wish.  Maybe this whole thing is a fantasy.  Maybe the comet will hit, and I’ll open my eyes and I’ll be at my 21^st birthday party and you’ll be in the year 3000 and you’ll be wiped clean from my memory.

MATT:  Or maybe we’ll just be here.  And the cars will all be gone.  And we’ll be able to go to that concert.  And I’ll look amazing with my new belt.

MOLLY:  My ‘maybe’ was better.

MATT:  Mine would be more realistic.

MOLLY and MATT:  Not the point, Matthew.

            (They both smile.  She puts her head on his shoulder.  They dance.)

A Flight Delayed

            (An airport.  Two women, NICKI and REVA, sit waiting to board a flight.)

NICKI:  What are we going to tell him when we get there?

REVA:  We’re not going to tell him anything.  We’re just going to go there and let him decide.

NICKI:  Between the two of us?

REVA:  Right.

NICKI:  Imagine if he chooses you.

REVA:  Well, that’s what I’m hoping for, Nicki.  I’m hoping that he chooses me.

NICKI:  Well, of course.  Of course, you are.

REVA:  I mean, I’m going out there with you because we’re both in the same chapter together, but my ultimate goal is to have him choose me.

NICKI:  Right.

REVA:  But I wish you luck.

NICKI:  Yeah, of course.

REVA:  All the luck in the world.

NICKI:  Right.

REVA:  The world’s ending.  Everybody should get whatever it is that’s going to make them happy before they die.  It just so happens, for us, that happens to be the same thing.

NICKI:  Right.

            (A beat.)

Are we sure he’s not married?

REVA:  He’s definitely not married.  (Slight pause.)  And even if he is, it doesn’t matter.  He’s never met us.  He can’t make an informed decision about being married if he’s never met us.

NICKI:  That’s true.  (Slight pause.)  You know, they’re rioting in L.A.

REVA:  He doesn’t live in L.A.  He lives in Malibu.  They’re not rioting in Malibu.

NICKI:  How do you know that?

REVA:  Because riots don’t happen in Malibu.  Malibu is a civilized place.

NICKI:  And he definitely doesn’t live in Australia?

REVA:  Nicki, we’ve been over this.  He’s from Australia.  He doesn’t live in Australia.

NICKI:  But how do we know he didn’t take a plane there?

REVA:  There aren’t any planes leaving right now.  Why do you think we’ve been sitting here for eight hours?

NICKI:  But once they let the planes leave again, won’t he get on a plane to Australia?

REVA:  If they let the planes leave, that means everything is all right.  If everything is all right, then there’s no reason for him to go back to Australia.  He can stay right where he is.

NICKI:  Then shouldn’t we stay where we are?

REVA:  Look, we talked about this, Nicki.

NICKI:  I know.

REVA:  We talked about this.  We’re taking control of our lives.

NICKI:  Right.

REVA:  If you want to be Mrs. Russell Crowe, you can’t be timid about things.  You have to grab the bull by the horns.  You have to decide to start living life.

NICKI:  And so we’ll get there—

REVA:  We’ll get there and we’ll get on one of those Malibu tours of stars’ houses and when we get to his house, we’ll get off the tour, we’ll walk up his front steps—they’re probably marble—we’ll ring his bell, his housekeeper will answer the door, we’ll state our business, we’ll be brought into his study to meet him, he’ll be smoking a cigar, we’ll curtsey, he’ll tell us that’s not necessary,   We’ll tell him what we’ve come for, and then we’ll ask him to…decide.

NICKI:  And he’ll choose one of us.

REVA:  Yes.

NICKI:  And the other will have to go home?

REVA:  Well…yes.

NICKI:  Couldn’t the other live in the mansion with Russell and the person he chooses?

REVA:  Well, that would be awkward, don’t you think?

NICKI:  I’m sure it’s a big house.  I’m sure he must have guest rooms.

REVA:  But wouldn’t it be hard for that other person living with Russell but not able to actually be with him?

NICKI:  It might be hard for that person, but what’s the alternative?  Living alone—now not just without Russell but without her best friend as well?  The only person who really gets her.

REVA:  Well, not everyone gets a happy ending, Nicki.

NICKI:  But aren’t…

            (A beat.)

REVA:  What?

NICKI:  I feel responsible for you.  You’re my best friend and I feel responsible for you.  Responsible for…your happy ending.

REVA:  Well..you don’t have to.  You don’t have to…

NICKI:  Don’t you feel responsible for me?  Maybe it’s the comet, but suddenly, it seems like…the obligations are a lot clearer.  Not to…our jobs or our car payments—those of us who own cars even though they pollute the environment—or watering plants or credit cards or whatever—but obligations to…each other.

REVA:  I…Yes.  I do—feel responsible.  For you.

NICKI:  So—what then?

REVA:  So…So.  You’ll stay at the house.  With Russell and I.  Me.  Whatever.  You’ll stay with us.  We’ll make due.  And if it’s hard for you, he and I will…set you up somewhere.  In a nice apartment.

NICKI:  And if he chooses me, I’ll do the same for you.

REVA:  Good.  Well—it’s like everything works itself out, doesn’t it?

NICKI:  It does.

            (A beat.)

And we’re sure he’s not married?

REVA:  Well..I haven’t actually checked, but I’m assuming he’s not.  But like I said—t doesn’t matter until we show him that he’s got options.

NICKI:  I bet he’ll be very glad to meet us.  No matter what he decides.

REVA:  Of course he will be.  We’re lovely people.

NICKI:  And I’m sure he’s lovely.

REVA:  Of course he’s lovely.  He’s a wonderful man.  He makes movies.  He has an Oscar.

NICKI:  I wonder what he’s thinking.  Sitting out there in his house…in Malibu.  Looking at the ocean.  Thinking he’s going to die without ever having met his true love.  Feeling so alone.

REVA:  Good thing we’re coming.

NICKI:  Exactly.  It’s a good thing we’re on our way.

            (They sit.  And wait.)

Back to School

(A classroom.  RICHARD enters, ZOE is sitting at a desk.)

RICHARD:  Zoe?

ZOE:  Richard, hi.

RICHARD:  What are you--?

ZOE:  I, uh, kept having these dreams.  That I was back at school.  That I had—gone back to school.  Ha.  Do you have those?

RICHARD:  Well, yeah, but I teach here, so when I have them, they make sense.

ZOE:  Is it weird for you?  Teaching here?

RICHARD:  A little bit.  But…you get used to it.  It doesn’t feel like the same school, anyway.  There’s the school I went to and the school I teach at.  When I think about the fact that there was a place in between where I was then and where I am now…

ZOE:  College?

RICHARD:  Man, I miss college.

ZOE:  Sometimes I think everybody's just trying to get college back.  And we're never getting it back, are we?

RICHARD:  Why are you here?

ZOE:  Remember when you had a crush on me?

RICHARD:  A crush on you?  I loved you.  It wasn’t a crush.

ZOE:  Puppy love.

RICHARD:  Who can tell the difference?

ZOE:  Richard—

RICHARD:  Why was it puppy love?  Because it was silly?  Because it didn’t make sense?  Because we were kids?  Maybe when you really fall in love you’re supposed to feel like a kid.  Maybe that’s why people say ‘Oh my gosh, I love her.  She makes me feel like a kid.’

ZOE:  Did you stay here because I stayed here?  Because I couldn’t escape?

RICHARD:  Don’t be dramatic.

ZOE:  Is that why you stayed?

RICHARD:  I stayed because I wanted to stay.  I’m not as romantic as you think I am.

ZOE:  Cary and I are getting a divorce.

RICHARD:  No, you’re not.

ZOE:  I’m pretty sure we are.

RICHARD:  When?  After the comet goes crashing into Morocco or Tunisia or wherever the hell they think it’s going to hit?  I think it’s a little late for a divorce, Zoe.  Just roll with it until the Apocalypse.  Fulfill your vows.  Die happily after.

ZOE:  It won't be happy.

RICHARD:  So just die then.

ZOE:  I don’t want to be married to him anymore.

RICHARD:  Why?  Is he that bad?

ZOE:  It’s just not true, you know?  It’s not the truth.

RICHARD:  Was it true when you married him?

ZOE:  Oh my God, Richard, you’re asking me what was true before?  Before?  I was supposed to live forever and become an interior decorator or a cupcake baker or the mother of seven adopted children.  That’s what was true.  Who the hell knows looking back on it what I really believed and what I just…wanted to believe.

RICHARD:  Why are you here?

ZOE:  They say when you have dreams about going back to school it’s because you feel like you took a wrong turn somewhere in your life—

RICHARD:  Who’s ‘they?’

ZOE:  Dream dictionary.

RICHARD:  Bullshit.

            (She gets up from the desk.)

ZOE:  Probably, anyway—it says you’re dreaming about an early point in your life because you think if you could go back to that point, you could turn things around.  And, surprisingly, or, not surprisingly, I—keep dreaming that you—and I—got together.  In high school.  Together.  Like a couple—

RICHARD:  I got it.

ZOE:  So…

RICHARD:  Sooo?

ZOE:  What do you…think of that?

RICHARD:  I think the phrase ‘a day late and a dollar short’ would be a woeful understatement.

ZOE:  Richard—

RICHARD:  Maybe the biggest of all time.

ZOE:  What if I was supposed to choose you?

RICHARD:  There’s no ‘what if’—you were supposed to choose me.  I know that.

ZOE:  How do you know that?

RICHARD:  Because ultimately, I believe, deep in my soul, that life is one big television series.  And if my life were a television series, you are the one I was supposed to wind up with.  You were the Rachel to my Ross, the Kelly to my Zach, the Maddie to whoever the hell Bruce Willis played on Moonlighting.  I know this.  I believe in this.  The way other people have a religion—I have the idea of you and I together BUT, like many people at this hour, my religion has been shaken, because I am going to die without ever having…you.  Without ever having you.  And that sucks, but that’s reality, Zoe.  That’s the truth of the matter.

            (A beat.)

ZOE:  Let’s get married.

RICHARD:  Don’t be insane.

ZOE:  What’s a marriage anyway?

RICHARD:  WHAT’S a marriage?

ZOE:  What’s a divorce?  What’s a separation?  We could all be dead in, like, now.  We could be dead now.  Does any of that shit matter?  I doubt it.  It’s paperwork.  Let’s get married.

RICHARD:  You don’t really know me, Zoe.

ZOE:  You just said—

RICHARD:  What—my fantasy?  Yeah, but, even in my fantasy. It doesn’t just happen.  You get to know me.  You fall for me slowly.  We dance in the rain.

ZOE:  Yeah, well, we don’t really have time for that, so we’re going to have to cut to the chase.

RICHARD:  You really want to marry me?

ZOE:  Call me a convert to your religion, okay, Richard?  I want to marry you.  I want to see what happens.  And, let me tell you something, I did the whole falling slowly in the rain dance in the fountain run towards the moving car biting on the neck because you don’t even care if it leaves a mark thing and let me just say that I’m still in an unhappy marriage so at the end of the day it’s a roll of the dice no matter how you look at it.  Now, we may only be married for like, five seconds, or we could be married forever.  It’s a chance we take.  I’m willing to take the chance if you are.

RICHARD:  You’re not serious.

ZOE:  Richard, I drove here.  I could have driven anywhere and I drove here.  Because somehow I knew you’d be here.  Don’t you think that’s crazy?  Don’t you think it’s crazy that we both just—showed up here on a Saturday?

RICHARD:  I was here grading papers.

ZOE:  But you didn’t have to be.  I doubt anybody’s worrying about their transcript right now.

RICHARD:  How did you even get in?

ZOE:  I broke a window.

RICHARD:  What?!?

ZOE:  I know, it was exhilarating.

RICHARD:  Zoe, we can’t…

            (A beat.)

ZOE:  What?

RICHARD:  Ha.  You know…I can’t say it.  I can’t say we can’t get married because it’s all I’ve wanted sincedI was fourteen, so…I can’t say it but we shouldn’t do it.

ZOE:  Let’s say we are.  Let’s say we already are.

RICHARD:  It doesn’t work that way.

ZOE:  I know it’s not what you wanted or what you pictured, but at least it means the tv show’s going to have the right finale.  Do you want to be my husband?  Not my boyfriend.  Not my guy.  Not my someone, but my husband.  It’s a really powerful word when it means what it’s supposed to mean.

RICHARD:  You think that’ll stop you from having all those bad dreams where you wind up back here trying to pass Algebra II for the second time?

ZOE:  Maybe we spend our whole lives trying to figure out how to stop the bad dreams.  I never had bad dreams about a comet.  Maybe that means something.  Maybe it’s a good sign.

RICHARD:  My God, I have a crazy wife.

            (A beat.)

ZOE:  You mean that?

RICHARD:  Yes, you’re certifiable.

ZOE:  I meant—

RICHARD:  And yes, you’re my wife.  I decided.  Death do us part.

ZOE:  Was it hearing about me breaking a window to get to you that did it?

RICHARD:  Actually, it was seeing you in that desk again.  That’s the desk you were sitting in the first time I ever saw you.  I’ve spent my whole life trying to erase that image from my mind and I’ve never been able to so…I just need to know that you at least somewhat believe that there’s the possibility you might in some distant corner of yourself love me as much as I love you.

ZOE:  The truth is…if a girl can’t love a boy who’s been in love with her for most of his life then…the world’s so cruel maybe it’s better off ending.

           

            (A beat.)

RICHARD:  Sickness and health?

ZOE:  Richer or poorer?

RICHARD:  Yup.

ZOE:  Yup.  But hopefully richer.

RICHARD:  Just kiss me already.

            (They kiss.)

ZOE:  Wow.

RICHARD:  What?

ZOE:  I think I love my husband.

RICHARD:  Well hey—isn’t that something?

            (They slowly, softly let their foreheads fall against each other.  And it’s really quite lovely.)

Free with Purchase

      (A car dealership.  SARAH is waiting when JERRY walks up to her.)

JERRY:  Hey.

SARAH:  Oh—hi!  I need to buy a car.

JERRY:  No, you don’t.

SARAH:  Excuse me?

JERRY:  You do not need to buy a car.  A car is the last thing you need.

SARAH:  No, I actually do need a car.

JERRY:  You know there isn’t going to be a world anymore after tomorrow, right?

SARAH:  Well, they’re estimating that it might not—

JERRY:  That’s because they don’t want mass panic and looting, but trust me, by Monday, our planet
is just going to be one burning ember in the Universe.

SARAH:  Do you work here?

JERRY:  Sadly, I do.

SARAH:  Great.  Can you sell me a car?  Brand new.  Like, never been owned ever.  Out of the box if you have it.  Do they come in boxes?  I want one—pristine.  Ridiculously expensive.  Totally non-practical.

JERRY:  I can’t do that.

SARAH:  Why not?  You must make commission, right?  Well, trust me, at this moment, I am a big, fat pile of commission.  I mean, I don’t know how much longer you’ll have to spend the commission, but—

JERRY:  I can’t sell you a car, because it wouldn’t be right.  You don’t need a car.

SARAH:  First of all, everyone needs a car.  Cars are essential.  Second of all, if you’re wondering if I have a car, the answer is ‘Yes, I do,’ and it’s  piece of crap, because I’ve never owned a new car in my life because I’ve always been really frugal and now I feel like an idiot because I have all this money and what good does it do me?  Like, what was I saving it for?  SO—I’m buying a new car.  And I’d like the payment plan.  I’m guessing you can’t deny me my rights to a payment plan just because the world might end.  And if the world does end, I won’t have spent all that much, and if it doesn’t end, I’m going to keep the car anyway because I need to stop being a loser.  And once I get the car, I’m driving to a beach.  And then I’m getting a hotel room on the beach and THAT is where I’m going to be when this comet hits.

JERRY:  That sounds really nice, but if you think it’s going to make you feel any better about the fact that you’ve wasted your life, you’re wrong.

            (A beat.)

SARAH:  Is there somebody else here I could speak to?

JERRY:  No, I’m the only one.  Everybody else went home to die with their families.

SARAH:  You don’t have a family?

JERRY:  No, I do.  I just don’t like them.

SARAH:  I’m sorry.

JERRY:  You’re not the only one who’s wasted their life, you know.

SARAH:  I wouldn’t say I wasted my life, and I’d really like it if you would stop saying it.

JERRY:  So what would you say then?

SARAH:  I would just say I didn’t live my life to its fullest potential because I was saving up to quit my awful job AND were it not for this—unexpected…ENDING of everything—it would not have been a bad plan.  My plan was not a bad plan.  I just should have—indulged a little bit more in addition to saving so much.  I needed balance, but I mean, that’s normal—most people need more balance.

JERRY:  I sure as hell do.  I’m the number one seller in my district and that is literally my only point of pride.  Like, for my entire life.  Isn’t that terrible?

SARAH:  Well, we’re people.  We’re normal people.  We’re not mountain climbers.  Not everybody gets to scale K2 and have THAT be what they feel good about.  Some of us have to feel good about the normal things.

JERRY:  Actually, I am a mountain climber.

SARAH:  Are you kidding?

JERRY:  No, it’s really weird that you picked that example, because I actually did try to scale K2.

SARAH:  Seriously?

JERRY:  --And a few other places.

SARAH:  How did it go?

JERRY:  Oh, it was bad.  I almost died.  I pretty much almost died every time I tried to climb anything bigger than a hill.

SARAH:  But you look so—fit.

JERRY:  Not at all.  I just wear clothes really well.  In my everyday life, I eat nothing but chocolate and bacon fat.  Not even the actual bacon.  I just drizzle the fat on everything.

SARAH:  This isn’t going to end with me getting a car, is it?

JERRY:  Why don’t you do something better for yourself?  Like, connect with a distant relative or make amends with an old friend.

SARAH:  This from the guy who’s sitting in a car dealership refusing to sell people cars instead of being home with his family.

JERRY:  The guy who’s sitting in a car dealership happens to be a lousy husband and a lousy father and that’s why his lousy family is lousy and why they don’t really like him all that much and vice versa.

                (A beat.)

SARAH:  Funnily enough, I had a lousy father too.

JERRY:  No lousy husband?

SARAH:  Just some lousy boyfriends.

JERRY:  You got lucky then.

SARAH:  What makes you so lousy?

JERRY:  Well, you already know I’m in poor health.  So playing baseball out in the yard or teaching kids to ride bikes isn’t really my strong suit.

SARAH:  All right.

JERRY:  I also get ideas.  These—big schemes.  Like mountain climbing.  Bungee jumping.  Bear wrestling.

SARAH:  They let you—Sorry, go on.

JERRY:  --I have this need for excitement, and so I go and do all this insane stuff, and it always ends badly, and then I come home, and I’m a jerk to everybody, and I keep wanting to say ‘Well, at least I tried’ but it just—doesn’t feel good enough.  I only make it halfway up the mountain.  I chicken out before I jump.  I sucker punch the bear when he’s not looking and I get disqualified.  This job is the only thing I’ve ever really been good at, otherwise they would have fired me a long time ago for taking so much time off.

SARAH:  I’ve never taken time off.  They stopped counting my sick days when I went over a hundred.  They tried to force me to take some, but I never get sick and I hate lying.  I was in perfect health until my doctor found the cancer.

JERRY:  Cancer?

SARAH:  About a week ago.  I felt a pain.  I went to get a check-up.  They did some x-rays.  I have cancer—everywhere.

JERRY:  Oh my—I’m so—

SARAH:  Well, don’t be sorry.  If the world ends, the fact that I have cancer won’t really matter, will it?  I’ll just go with everybody else.  I’d say that seems nice, but saying it seems nice seems sort of selfish, doesn’t it?  That I feel better about not dying alone?

JERRY:  Well, we’re all going to die alone.  It’s just that some of us die at the same time.

SARAH:  I guess that’s true.  Anyway, I made up my mind last week to get the car, and then the news about the comet hit, and I thought, Well, I better get a move-on.

JERRY:  Are you scared of dying?

SARAH:  If it’s the comet, no.  If it’s the cancer, yes.

JERRY:  Why don’t you just take a car?

SARAH:  What?

JERRY:  I mean, it’s not like anybody’s going to care.  Even if nothing happens, what is it, right?  It’s just one more car.  Everybody should get to drive a nice car at least once.

SARAH:  I don’t know, I’d feel…I can always bring it back.  I mean, if everything turns out—we could call it a test drive.  Just…a two-day test drive.

JERRY:  Right.  Sounds good.

SARAH:  Do you need me to…fill anything out?  I mean, some sort of agreement?

JERRY:  Yeah, actually, I do.

            (JERRY holds out his hand with the pinky finger extended.)

Promise to bring the car back?

            (She pinky swears him.)

SARAH:  I promise.

JERRY:  And if you don’t?

SARAH:  May I die of cancer.

JERRY:  I can live with that.

            (He takes a set of keys out of his pocket.)

            I was actually going to drive this one home.  It’s my favorite car on the lot.  You can’t miss it.  Bright red.  Candy apple.  Drives like butter spreads.

SARAH:  Do you have it in blue?  (Slight pause.)  I’m kidding.  If I take it though, what are you going to drive home?

JERRY:  I told you, I don’t think I’m going home.

SARAH:  You should you know.  You should always go home.  Go home is probably the best advice you can ever give anybody.

JERRY:  I told you, I’m an asshole.  What would I do if I went home?

SARAH:  Maybe you could tell your wife and kids that you just made a dying lady really, really happy.

JERRY:  I don’t think one good deed makes up for a lifetime worth of shit.

SARAH:  Yeah, and one good day at the beach doesn’t make up for a life at a desk, but you gotta start somewhere, right?

JERRY:  I think it’s a little late to be starting anything.

SARAH:  Then maybe just say you’re sorry?

JERRY:  To be totally honest, the idea of doing that…scares me.

SARAH:  You wrestled a bear and saying ‘Sorry I screwed up’ scares you?

JERRY:  You haven’t met my wife.

SARAH:  Did I mention what I do for a living?

JERRY:  No.

SARAH:  I work for a publishing company.  Books, basically, I deal with books.  And the trademark of any great book is the ending.  People can forgive you for anything but a bad ending. 

(She takes the keys from him.)

Go home.  Nail the ending.  That’s what I’m going to do.

            (She starts to go, then stops and turns around.)

Hey?

JERRY:  Yeah?

SARAH:  You want a ride?

            (He thinks about it.)

JERRY:  Yeah, actually.  I’d love that.

            (They leave together.)