Peter and Pete

                (PETE is sitting in a visitor’s room at a hospital across from PETER and ELLEN.)

PETER:  You look good, Pete.

PETE:  Thanks, Pete.

PETER:  Peter.  I prefer Peter now.  We talked about that.  Remember when we talked about that?

PETE:  Right.  Sorry.

PETER:  Well anyway, I’m glad they’re feeding you.

PETE:  Sometimes they just put hamburgers in a slingshot and shoot them into my mouth.

                (A beat.)

                That was a joke.

                (PETER and ELLEN look at each other and then laugh politely.)

                Is there a reason she’s here?

PETER:  Well, Ellen is my friend.

PETE:  Your girlfriend.

PETER:  Noooo, she’s a girl and she’s a friend, but she’s not my girlfriend.

ELLEN:  I’m an Executive Producer now, Pete.  I work in television.

PETE:  Good for you.  I always thought you’d be good at destroying society.

ELLEN:  I know it’s not your favorite thing in the world, but—

PETE:  Television is a cesspool.  Did either of you bring me the crackers I like?

                (A beat.)

PETER:  I did, yes, but before we get to the, uh, crackers, we wanted to run an idea by you.

PETE:  I’m not going to kill someone for money.

PETE:  What?

PETE:  Sorry, that’s the first place my brain went.  What’s the idea?

ELLEN:  Well, people love your book so much—

PETE:  Which one?

PETER:  Pete, you’ve only written one book.

PETE:  No, I’ve only published one book, I’ve written several.

ELLEN:  How would people know about a book you haven’t published?

PETE:  Because the government publishes all the books once I’m done with them.  They steal them from me and give them to Jonathan Franzen.

PETER:  How would that even happen?  Do you have a laptop hooked up to the Internet or something?

PETE:  No, I write everything down on Kleenex, I put it in the trash basket, and the next day it’s gone.

ELLEN:  Could it be that somebody cleans your room in the morning and throws it out thinking it’s just used Kleenex?

                (A beat.)

PETE:  I’m willing to entertain that idea.

PETER:  While we’re entertaining ideas, Ellen—

ELLEN:  We want to turn your book into a tv show.

                (A moment.  Then PETE starts laughing, low and slow, but then bigger and louder, until he stops abruptly and looks at PETER and ELLEN.)

PETE:  Is this a joke?

ELLEN:  No.

PETE:  Because I just laughed.

ELLEN:  We heard you.

PETE:  But it’s not a joke?

ELLEN:  No.

PETE:  You want to turn my book—

ELLEN:  Yes.

PETE:  The published one?

ELLEN:  Yes, I haven’t even read—

PETE:  You want to turn ‘The Adventures of Pete and Pete’ into a fucking tv show?

PETER:  Pete—

PETE:  Into a spectacle for losers and degenerates?

ELLEN:  Like you should talk—

PETER:  Ellen—

ELLEN:  You’re in here because you stuck your dick in a slurpee machine at a Cumberland Farms.

PETE:  Allegedly!

PETER:  Oh God.

ELLEN:  I don’t even know how you managed that.

PETE:  You’re not turning my book into a tv show.

PETER:  It’s not just your book.

                (A beat.)

PETE:  Excuse me?

PETER:  It’s not just yours.  It’s called ‘The Adventures of Pete and Pete.’

PETE:  I wrote it.

PETER:  But it’s about the both of us.  Our childhood.  It’s not just yours.

PETE:  Fuck off.

ELLEN:  Hey!

PETER:  I should have a say in this too.

PETE:  Peter, if you want to have a snuff film made about our fucked up childhood, then you can write your own damn book, but you’re not using mine.

PETER:  Our childhood was not fucked up.

PETE:  It was really fucked up.

PETER:  Pete—

ELLEN:  It was kind of fucked up.

PETER:  Ellen!

ELLEN:  I mean, I was there for a lot of it, and it was definitely at least a little fucked up.

PETER:  I thought we were supposed to be on the same side here?

ELLEN:  We are.

PETE:  So you came here to gang up on me, huh?

PETER:  It’s not like that.

ELLEN:  Pete, trust me, I would take very good care of your work.  I only want to produce quality shows.  I just had a terrible meeting at Nickelodeon—

PETE:  Is that even still a channel?

ELLEN:  I was thinking we could take ‘The Adventures of Pete and Pete’ to HBO or AMC or Gmail.

PETER:  Gmail?

ELLEN:  Yeah, Gmail has original programming now.  Every website does.  Home Depot’s website just revived My So-Called Life.

PETE:  Does the world seem normal to the two of you?  I’m really curious, because once you spend enough time in here, you start to feel like you’re okay and the life you left behind was batshit looney tunes.

PETER:  There’s a lot of money involved here, Pete.

PETE:  For you.

ELLEN:  For all of us.

PETE:  What am I going to do with money?  Buy extra jello at lunchtime?

PETER:  For when you get out of here.

PETE:  I’m not getting out of here.

PETER:  Pete—

PETE:  Peter, I’m serious.  I’m not getting out of here.  Did you even read the book?

PETER/ELLEN:  Of course I did./No.

PETER:  Ellen?

ELLEN:  I’m a producer, Peter.  We don’t read things.

PETE:  If you read it, you’d know most of it is bullshit anyway.

PETER:  No, it’s not.

PETE:  Pete, come on, Artie the—

PETER:  --Strongest Man in the World!

ELLEN:  You mean the pedophile who lived three houses down from you?

PETER:  He wasn’t a pedophile!

PETE:  He walked around wearing spandex and flexing.

PETER:  Because he was the Strongest Man in the World!

PETE:  Most of those people didn’t even exist!  Clem, Open Face, Pit Stain—

PETER:  Those were all real people!  Ellen even dated Open Face!

ELLEN:  I have no idea what you’re talking about.

PETER:  Are you two serious?

ELLEN:  Are you?  You think everything in your brother’s book was real?

PETER:  You didn’t even read the book!

ELLEN:  It was written by a crazy person!  I didn’t need to read it to know he made shit up!  There’s no way some book about our messed up childhood would sit on the top of the bestseller lists for two years unless he twisted things around a little bit.  Otherwise it would just be about how our parents never paid attention to us, and we got bullied, and that summer the ice cream guy killed himself by putting a plastic bag around his fake ice cream head.

PETER:  Mr. Tastee…

ELLEN:  The critics called his book ‘whimsical.’  There’s nothing ‘whimsical’ about any of that, so I figured he made stuff up.

PETE:  I never said it was an autobiography.  I said it was a glimpse into a troubled mind.

ELLEN:  Well, that’s not as good of a title as ‘Pete and Pete,’ so I think we’ll stick with that.

PETE:  I’ll never sign anything.

ELLEN:  You don’t need to.  Peter has power of attorney.

PETE:  He wouldn’t dare.

ELLEN:  Peter?

PETER:  It’s really expensive to keep you in here, Pete.

PETE:  Oh, cut the crap.  The sales from the book pay my bills, not you.

PETER:  But eventually, the sales are going to wind down.  This isn’t just me saying this.  I talked to an accountant—

PETE:  This is such bullshit.

ELLEN:  Even if the show only runs for a year, you’d be set for life.  Showtime offered us a million just to make a pilot!

PETE:  Showtime?!?  You never said anything about Showtime!

ELLEN:  What’s wrong with Showtime?

PETE:  MY FUCKING LIFE ISN’T BEING BROADCAST ON SHOWTIME!

PETER:  Everybody calm down!

ELLEN:  You just said it’s not your life.  It’s fiction.  It’s fantasy.  So why do you care where it goes?  You’re not some distinguished author.  You’re a lunatic who wrote his ravings down and found some lucky asshole to publish it, and now we’re sitting here trying to convince you that being rich isn’t a bad thing!  Like it or not, this show is getting made—with or without you.

PETE:  Peter, don’t let this happen.

PETER:  I’ll make sure it’s very tasteful, Pete.

PETE:  That’s what I’m worried about.

PETER:  What?

PETE:  It’s not tasteful.  It’s not a tasteful book.  Nothing about it is tasteful.  It’s one big metaphor for how fucked up childhood is.

ELLEN:  Then that’s the direction we’ll go in.

PETER:  No.

ELLEN:  What?

PETER:  It’s not about that.

ELLEN:  Peter—

PETER:  It’s a lovely story about growing up!

PETE:  It’s about the powerlessness of youth!

ELLEN:  Honestly, I can work with powerlessness of youth.  A valentine to childhood sounds like a snooze.  Especially since they’re already working on a Wonder Years reboot.

PETER:  Then you’re not making the show.

ELLEN:  Peter!

PETER:  I’m not letting you turn all my beloved memories—

PETE:  --That aren’t real.

PETER:  --That ARE real into some Twin Peaks spin-off!

                (A beat.)

ELLEN:  Well, then I guess there’s nothing more to say.  Unless you want to change your mind, Pete, knowing that I’ll make sure the book is accurately represented the way you want it regardless of what your brother might want.  I could have a lawyer lift the power of attorney.  I could even get you out of here.

PETE:  I told you, Ellen.  I’m not getting out of here.

ELLEN:  You don’t even seem all that bad.

PETE:  Maybe I should rephrase that:  I don’t want to get out of here.

                (A beat.)

ELLEN:  Fair enough.

                (She exits.)

PETER:  I’m sorry, Pete.

PETE:  If you need money, you can publish my new book.  You’d probably get a big advance for it.  You would just have to hurry before the government comes to take out my trash.

PETER:  What’s the new book called?

PETE:  Eerie, Indiana.

PETER:  That sounds fucked up.

PETE:  Oh, it’s really fucked up.

                (PETER smiles.)

PETER:  How do I remember the things that you wrote if you’re saying they never really happened?  Did I just absorb your version of things after I read the book?

PETE:  You really don’t remember?

                (A beat.)

You used to tell me stories when bad shit would happen.  You’d spin it all around so it sounded fun and interesting when really it was just sad and messed up.  That’s where I got all those stories from.  You were just…You were a good brother, Peter.

PETER:  So…everything?

PETE:  Everything.

                (A moment.)

PETER:  Even Petunia?

                (PETE smiles and lifts up his sleeve to reveal a mermaid tattoo.)

Did you get that before or after the book came out?

PETE:  Do you really want to know?

                (A slight pause.)

PETER:  No.  No, I don’t.

                (Lights.)