Monument (Part 3 of 3)

WOOHOO!

Scene Three:

[Lights up.  Slap is sitting on the amp, looking anxious.  Screech is slumped on the couch.]

Screech: So then she said “Only the first time,” so I was [hand gesture] outta there. [pause] Came straight here.

Slap: [trying to be sincere] I’m sorry about that, man.

[Silence.  Slap is about to continue when Screech starts again.]

Screech: Three fucking years, man.  Three years. [looks Slap dead in the eye] I gave that cunt three years of my life.

Slap: Come on man, you’re young.

Screech: [yelling] Exactly! [pause] I’m…  Sorry.  But you… [huffs, ruffles his hair agitatedly] That’s just one little piece of what’s fucking me up so much.  We get a few years to be morons and I spent mine in a committed relationship.  I wasted my free pass, dude.

[Brief silence.]

Slap: You really think that?

Screech: Sure I do.  If I knew I’d get fucked this bad for trying to be grown up, I would’ve put it off four more years.

Slap: Like everyone else?

Screech: [shrugs] Why not. [pause] I wanted to be a kid. [pause] She was more important.

[Long silence.]

Slap: Well, I know you’re not looking for advice, but at times like these, I find it prudent to share some words of wisdom passed on by one great sage and forefather.  [stands up, takes theatrical stance] Bitches… ain’t shit… but hoes and tricks.

[Screech starts laughing]

Slap: Lick on these nuts!  And suck the dick.

[Bang pops in from stage right, clears his throat.]

Slap: Get the fuck out after you’re done, and I hop in my ride-

Bang: [barges in, clapping, talking fast] Hey yeah, great!  Hey Screech, you seem to be having a bad day, why don’t you grab a beer?  Like now?

Screech: Uh…  I don’t really-

Bang: Don’t be ridiculous!  My casa’s your casa, now go on, don’t be shy! [claps Screech on the back, pointing stage left]

[Screech gets up and walks off stage left, confused.  Bang watches him go, waiting until he’s out of sight.]

Slap: Dude, what the hell!  We were having a moment!

Bang: A moment?!  Don’t be ridiculous!  You hate the man, you said it yourself!  Just what are you trying to pull here, Erikson?

Slap: Look, he’s really-

[Slap stops to squint at Bang, scrutinizing him.]

Bang: Well?

Slap: Did you just call me ‘Erikson’?

Bang: Yes.

Slap: Why?

Bang: Seriously man?

Slap: What – yes I’m serious!  You’re being confusing again!

Bang: [gesturing] 1984! [pause] 1984?

Slap: Look – no.  I’m stopping you right there.  Before you eat my brain anymore, I’m picking up this conversation at its sanest point.

Bang: Party-pooper.

Slap: I don’t think I can do it, okay?  I wasn’t-

Screech: [calling from offstage] I can’t find it.  Can I come back now?

Bang: Keep looking, it’s a deep basement.  A lot of corners.

Slap: You hid the beer, didn’t you?

Bang: Maybe.

Slap: Just to set up this diversion.

Bang: Man’s gotta have a code.

Slap: [sighs] The one quote you ever get right and it’s not even in good context.  Are you proud of yourself?

Bang: Man, why you always picking on me?

Slap: Because you touch yourself at night.

Bang: Good point.

Slap: So how about you?  How’re things going up there?

Bang: [shrugs] They’re going.  Just talking. [beat] Why do you ask?

Slap: I thought you were… [gestures] You know.

[pause]

Bang: I don’t follow.

Slap: Like… [repeats gesture]

Bang: Dear god, what kind of man do you take me for?!

[Screech re-enters.]

Screech: Really, I checked everywhere.  It’s-

Bang: [points stage-left without taking his eyes off Slap] YOU WILL CHECK AGAIN.

[Silence.]

Slap: [turns to Screech] I don’t know either, man.

Screech: …Yeah, I’ll leave you two alone. [exits stage right]

Bang: [glares at Slap] You sicken me.

Slap: Bang.

Bang: Present.

Slap: Have you brought it up at all?

[Bang bites his lip, staring at Slap.  He then sits down on the couch with a sigh.]

Bang: No.

[Silence.  Slap sits down on the amp.]

Bang: Every time I think ‘yeah, I’m gonna do it, I’m gonna do it; now’s your chance’, I…

[beat]

Slap: You what?

Bang: I think about how unrealistic it is.  I tell myself it’s not gonna happen, so then it doesn’t.

[Brief silence.]

Slap: Why do you think it’s unrealistic?

Bang: [shrugs] She’s younger.

Slap: So?  She’s legal.

[Bang looks at Slap humorlessly.]

Slap: Sorry.  I’m just saying, so what?

Bang: It’s four years, man.

Slap: Still abides by The Rule.

Bang: …Enlighten me.

Slap: Half your age plus seven.

[Pause as Bang “calculates” on his fingers.]

Bang: By Jove, you’ve done it.

Slap: See?  Given, she’s the lowest you can-

Bang: All right, that doesn’t really change anything though.  She’ll still think I’m creepy, I’m probably friend-zoned by now anyway, and what if it doesn’t work out?

Slap: Then-

Bang: Then the band’s fucked for sure.

Slap: Dude, so what?

[Bang stares down Slap, furious; Slap slowly realizes what he’s done.]

Slap: …Please don’t kill me.

Bang: It is taking every fiber in my being not to.

Slap: Let me-

Bang: ONLY… because you told me about The Rule. [pause] That is why you are still alive.

Slap: May I explain?  Please?

Bang: [inhales deeply] I shall consider it. [considers it] I shall allow it.

Slap: Okay… hear me out. [pause] There’s a good chance the band, in its current incarnation, ends tonight.

Bang: Maybe if you fired Screech like you said you would.

Slap: Look-

Bang: Which you still haven’t explained.

Slap: I know!  I know, dammit.  I chickened out, I get it.  He was feeling shitty, so I chickened out.

Bang: So you don’t hate him.

Slap: It was a lapse dammit!  I forgot to suppress my sense of humanity for a minute!  Won’t happen again.  Anyway.  We self-destruct the band.

[Silence]

Screech: [offstage] Hey, we kinda drank all the beer.

Bang: Fire him.

Slap: You got it.

[Slap walks off stage-right.  Bang remains sitting for a while, appearing to just be thinking to himself.  Eventually, he gets up and walks off stage-left.  He comes back a few seconds later, beer in hand.]

Bang: Heh.  Drank all the beer indeed.

[Bang starts chugging the beer.  Shred walks in from stage right.  She watches Bang for a second.]

Shred: Bang?

[Bang, surprised, spits out beer before looking at Shred.]

Bang: Yes please.

Shred: What?

Bang: I mean yes?

Shred: Uh…  Slap said you needed to talk to me about something?

[Long silence.  Bang drops the beer on the ground.  More silence.  Bang steps forward and looks out at the audience.]

Bang: I can’t believe this is really happening.  I guess it’s time to make a decision: Shred or the band.  Music’s the most important thing in my life, and the past three years I’ve done nothing but work towards my dream of being a rock star.  But for the first time in my life, I’ve found something that might not be worth losing.  If by-

Shred: Bang!

Bang: What?

Shred: Do you want me to call an ambulance?

Bang: No, why?

Shred: You were talking to a wall.

Bang: [narrows his eyes] Are you sure of what you saw?

Shred: Bang.

Bang: Yes.

Shred: Do you remember what you said?

[brief silence]

Bang: Maybe.

Shred: Bang.

Bang: Yes.

[Long silence.]

Shred: And you meant it?

[Bang nods.  Another long silence.]

Bang: Well…  I’ll be in the storage room.  Drinking the rest of the beer.  In the dark.  Don’t tell Screech.

[Bang turns toward stage left and starts to walk away.]

Shred: Bang.

Bang: [swallows] Yes?

[Long silence.]

Shred: I don’t know.

Bang: [looks back at Shred] Wanna join me?

Shred: In the storage room.

Bang: Yep.

Shred: Drinking beer.

[Bang nods.]

Shred: In the dark?

Bang: If you want.

[One last long silence.]

Shred: Couldn’t hurt.

[Bang and Shred walk off stage left together.  Lights out.]

FIN.

Fucking Drummers.

Like the title says, fucking drummers man.  My experience with them has been nothing but Spinaltappian.  I mean, they haven't exploded or anything, but I feel like the problem would be less confusing if they had.

Drummers 1, 2, and 3: The First Band
Like it says, my first band.  We were terrible and no I'm not telling you the name; it's a name I came up with and it's a name I'm still damn proud of, but I can't say the same for the music.  Started the band with three friends.  I'd just learned bass and that's all I did, whereas the other three all switched between guitar, vocals, and drums. Thus, the first three drummers.  Band dissolved, goodbye first three drummers.

Drummer 4: The Weak Link
Being in a band with this drummer was easily the most fun I've had in a band setting, and he's still one of my best friends.  But damn playing with him could be hard.  Were the singer-guitarist (who was actually one of the members of The First Band) and I just so ahead of the curve?  Not really, no.  Did we make it work?  Sure.  Anyways, that's not why his time as Drummer #4 was cut short; he actually quit for his job.  Pssh, real careers.

Drummer 5: The Older Dude
The Older Dude was cool, good drummer.  Usually.  He had his problems though; namely, the last show we played with him where he fell asleep in the middle of the set.  Not kidding, went fucking narcoleptic on us, hands moving autonomously (if it was on-time, it would've only been a problem for him).  The singer/guitarist's CD release show no less.  Again, like Drummer #4, the problems weren't what got him (unofficially) terminated.  He eventually just dropped off the map, not returning calls and shit.

Drummer 6: The Prodigy
Not even fucking around, this guy's the best drummer I've ever played with.  What's crazier, he doesn't own a drum kit and, for the most part, doesn't even listen to that much rock music.  Or, you know, any other kind of music where you think of drums.  Dude listens to and plays mostly gospel.  Okay, funk-kinda-stuff too, which is definitely known for drumming... stuff...  Anyways, off track.  So, good drummer, great fucking drummer... LAZY fucking drummer.  Seriously, there were several practices toward the end there, before we finally pronounced him dead, where I'd come all the way from downtown and he just wouldn't show up.

Drummer 7: The Doofus
Good friend.  Good drummer.  Good dad.  Wherein lies the problem.  Motherfucker's on his second goddamn kid with a second goddamn woman.  For an atheist, he's got a weirdly hard time believing in birth control.  Well in the meantime, it looks like he's giving up on music, sold his kit and everything.  Not calling him a doofus for having kids, more for being silly and not wrapping his willy.

Holy balls, I'm just gonna stop here.  This was all a lot more depressing than I'd intended.  God damn it life, why can't you be more like Spinal Tap?

For your time and troubles, here's a picture of a silly drummer.  Or the offspring of Danny McBride and a walrus. You decide.

My Sister Got Me Into Tool. Go Figure?

I desperately want to either finish the acoustic bullshit sensitive-guy song I'm writing or keep playing Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door.  Oh my god do I love that game.  BUT!  I promised myself one more post tonight, at least one more freaking post.  So here it is.  One more post, one more real post that isn't pulled out of my backlog of finished things (also known as "my ass") or a string of pictures of Chris Barron And Friends.  I mean the Spin Doctors.

We do, Spin Doctors.  We do.

No, this is a post about Tool.  More or less.

Originally, I was looking for a picture of your standard "tool", as in "scumbag".  This came up instead, and well, I felt you needed to be in the same mental place as me.  For at least a second.

I was a sophomore in high school.  Still had glasses, finally managed to ditch the braces, girls still didn't like me (far as I know).  This was most likely due to the fact that I never talked to anyone (much less girls), was still in the habit of wearing the same smelly black hoodie for weeks on end (losing that thing was probably my greatest blessing in disguise since... actually, I can't remember anything earlier in my life), was a swimmer (not the greatest sport for getting your dick sucked), and was wading so deep in self-indulgent angst, I had to tilt my neck to breathe.

But I was visiting my sister for spring break!  Well, a weekend of it anyway.  Woo, party time, excellent.  College bitches, booze (which I really wasn't into back then; shockingly, my Irish and German genes hadn't kicked in very much), and I don't know, somewhere that wasn't Oak Park.  Oh, and no parents.  Oh, and I got to take flights all on my own!  Which is weirdly awesome.  And, even more weird, WAY simple when your entire family isn't involved.  Seriously, both flights I got all the way to my gate so fast, without a Gumbel Family Disaster, I had to quadruple-check to make sure I'd done everything right.

Anyways, I got to Pittsburgh, got to my sister's dorm, stayed there overnight, there was a party, I drank for the first time (green apple schnapps + 7-Up and a beer, if I recall), and... not much else happened; it was a fun trip, but nothing too crazy, sorry to disappoint.

Trust me, you're not the most disappointed one.

Something magical did indeed happen though!  Did happen indeed?  Did indeed... happen.  Hmm.  Those are both kind of really awkward.  Well, at any rate, there was something cool that happened.  My sister introduced me to Tool.

Let's clarify some things here.  Tool is one of the two great prog-metal bands.  The other one being Dream Theater.

Unless we're counting Rush.  And we're not counting Rush.

My sister is a huge, huge, huge, huge, HUGE a capella nerd.  And otherwise listens to like, Jason Mraz and Sufjan Stevens and Jack Johnson and yes, yes, I know.  That stuff.

Hey, I kinda like some of "that stuff".  See first sentence.

On a slightly different note, I never want to not look at this picture.

At that point, the hardest things I knew she listened to were Nirvana, Foo Fighters, and some Jack White-related things.  Same tree, different branch, me and my sister.  My sister and I?

So Vicarious (which happened to be one of the first songs I learned on guitar two years later) comes on her iTunes.  Not on Pandora, not a friend's iPod, not a... a... I don't know, radio (lol wuzzat?), on MY SISTER'S FUCKING Itunes (is that correct? the inverse capitalization? no? oh, well, suck my balls, aPPLE), my sister who I've heard refer to Metallica as "death metal" and Evanescence as "emo".  I may have made one of those up.  Actually, probably not.  Vicarious isn't even one of their slow, eleven-minute, droney, meditation-metal acid-voyage songs.  It kicks you in the fucking balls.  And I, as a sixteen-year-old whose definition of the heaviest band he knew being Slipknot (punch me later), was hearing this for the first time.  I, of course, asked her who it was.  She told me it's Tool (never even knew that was a band), she told me that "some of their stuff was kinda weird and scary" (again, very different tastes, she and I) but generally it was "beautiful".  My sister described Tool as "beautiful".  And I couldn't help but agree.

...YAY ABRUPT ENDINGS.

You need to know exactly two things about this show to get the joke.  C'mon.  You can do it.

Monument Part 2

So to make up at least a teeny tiny bit for that random garbage post about the Spin Doctors (and no, it is NOT the Spin Doctors that made it garbage, do not blaspheme; it's my total inability to budget time and other life-thingies), here's the second scene of that play from earlier.  At least one more post tonight.  Seriously, I'm going to stab myself with a pencil periodically to keep myself awake so I can do this.  Are there far more effective means of keeping oneself awake?  Surely.  Is this one the most fun?  You betcha.

Scene Two:

[Lights up.  Bang is once again sitting behind his drum set, looking agitated.  Slap is leaning against the wall between the drum set and the couch.  Shred is sitting on the couch.]

Shred: I just… [shrugs] I don’t wanna do it.

Slap: You just said-

Shred: No, I’ll do it, I just don’t want to be the one to do it.

Slap: Look, if I do it, it’ll be an even bigger mess.  He’ll be all ‘I always knew you hated me’ and I’ll have to be all-

Bang: Let it go, Slap.

[Slap and Shred turn to look at Bang.]

Bang: I’ll… I’ll fucking do it.  Just stop badgering her just cuz you’re too lazy.

[brief pause]

Slap: [taken aback] …Dude, what the hell?

[Bang gets up and hurries out of the room (stage right) past Slap.  Slap stares after him for a few seconds, angry.  He sits down on the amp in a huff.]

Shred: So um…  I smell like elephant.

[Slap looks at Shred like she’s insane.]

Shred: Oh fuck!  No, I mean, I smell an elephant.  Smell one.  Like… [points to her nose]

Slap: [laughs a little] You say it too?

Shred: Yeah. [beat] Too?

Slap: Yeah, Bang taught me that like right before you got here. [brief silence] You want a beer?

Shred: Oh, I really shouldn’t.

Slap: [shrugs] Suit yourself.

[Slap gets up and walks off stage left.]

Shred: [calling offstage] Slap!

Slap: Changed your mind?

Shred: No! [beat] Yeah!  But shouldn’t you ask Bang?

Slap: Milady, please. [sounds of beer-getting from offstage] When have I not been the master freeloader?  And when-oh-when… [walks back in, tossing Shred a beer, which she catches] have I respected Bang’s property? [sits back down on the amp and opens his beer]

Shred: Well, it’s not his house.

Slap: So why should he care? [takes a sip]

[Shred looks at the beer, setting it on the ground between her feet after a few seconds.  She looks back at Slap as he keeps sipping his beer.]

Slap: What?

Shred: Aren’t you two friends?

Slap: [huffs] Yes.  It was just a jab, okay?  I’d never do anything to fuck the guy.

Shred: [holds up her hands apologetically] Sorry; just asking.

[Slap goes back to drinking the beer, Shred goes back to staring.]

Slap: I’ll fire Screech.  I brought it up, I’ll do it.

Shred: That’s… surprisingly noble of you.

[Slap looks at Shred.  Shred smiles.]

Shred: He’ll appreciate it.

[Slap looks back at his beer, smiles, and takes a sip.  Brief silence.]

Slap: How well do you really know Bang?

Shred: You don’t think he will?

Slap: No, doesn’t have anything to do with that.  I’m just asking.

Shred: [shrugs] I dunno.  About as well as Screech by now.

Slap: So…  Like, enough to know that you like Bang more than Screech?

Shred: [gives Slap a very questioning look] That’s weird.

Slap: Never mind, never mind.  Forget it.  Forget I said absolutely anything.

Shred: Well, now you have to tell me.

Slap: No!  No I absolutely don’t!

[sounds of Bang coming down the stairs]

Shred: I swear to Christ if you say ‘absolutely’ one more time-

Slap: What the hell is it with you people and your trigger words?!

Shred: Just tell me dammit!

[Bang enters stage-right.  Slap and Shred look up at him quickly.]

Bang: …I smell an elephant.

[Shred starts giggling uncontrollably.]

Slap: How come I don’t get a catchphrase?

Bang: Because you touch yourself at night. [crosses over the stage by the drum set]

Slap: So?

Bang: SO?! [kicks Slap off the amp]

[Slap lays wedged between the wall and the amp, wheezing; Shred looks up at Bang, wide-eyed.]

Shred: Dude.

Bang: Oops.

Slap: [out of breath] You fucker.

[Bang and Shred start forward to help Slap; Bang gets there first, extending a hand in front of Slap.]

Bang: Sorry man.

Slap: I think I’m going into V-Tach.

Bang: Hey man, I can’t hold this forever.

Slap: Once it stops… you’re dead.  And I’m gonna kill you.

Shred: You two are insane, you know that?

[Bang helps up Slap; Slap straightens up and glares at him; brief silence.]

Bang: You said ‘so’. [Slap slaps him upside the head] It had to be done.

[Slap slaps him again; Bang starts laughing; Slap gives him a small shove before sitting down; Bang steps forward; he checks to make sure Slap won’t hit him before going around the drum set to sit down; brief silence]

Shred: What the fuck is wrong with you two?

[Bang and Slap look at her like she’s crazy.]

Slap: What are you talking about?

Shred: You just-

[Slap looks back at Bang; Bang twirls his finger by his head and makes cuckoo noises; Slap shakes his head and clucks his tongue disappointedly]

Shred: I hate boys. [picks up her beer and starts chugging]

Bang: [urgently] Why do you hate boys?

[Slap facepalms; Shred finishes her beer and tosses the can aside.]

Shred: What?

Bang: You um…  You said you hate boys, I uh… that seems like… something to see a therapist… for. [pause] Just asking.  Why you hate boys.

[Very long silence.]

Shred: You… think I’m a lesbian?

Bang: I don’t know.  Are you?

Slap: [under his breath] Dude, just stop talking.

Shred: …No?

Bang: I mean, I’m not calling you a lesbian; you just said that you hated-

[Knocking is heard off-stage.  Everyone freezes and looks to stage-right (towards the door) in surprise/fear.  There is a long silence where no one moves.  More knocking is heard, this time a bit louder.  Slap turns to Bang.]

Slap: I have always loved you.