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.

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.

Wee, At Least One Person Likes Me! (Also, Monument Part 1)

Well balls, forgot to post yesterday.  Means we gonna have two posts today!  Seriously this time.  Gaahhh.  My life. (EDIT: Guess not.  Oop.)  Yeah, Story Week stuff happened on monday and tuesday, which I'll write about in a bit, (reminder to self, tuesday is when I worked as a volunteer) but that's not what's currently taking my attention.  ...If you studied Fiction at Columbia College, you'll get the joke.  It probably still won't be funny, but you'll get it.

So during Story Week, I realized I wasn't exactly used to doing stuff outside my apartment other than class every day.  My energy would dwindle around mid-day and I went into crazy-deep sleep-debt (that I'm still paying off).  I also had trouble getting up, and after the first couple days, I'd show up to events some 10+ minutes late in the name of "I will die if I don't sleep in just these next few minutes".  This turned out to be kind of a kick in my own teeth.

Wednesday was more or less "Playwriting Day".  There were readings of student plays in the morning and a panel with playwrights later on.  I was running a bit late to the readings, by about ten minutes, and I ran into a couple volunteers outside the room, the people who give you the surveys and programs and stuff.  I knew them from volunteering at an earlier event, something something here's how the exchange went, more or less:

Not-Head-Volunteer: Hey, are you here to volunteer?

Me: Uhh...

Head Volunteer: Oh wait, you're in the event, aren't you?

Me: Uhh...? [pause] I don't...

Not-Head-Volunteer: You're reading, aren't you?

Me: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... [flopsweat]

Head Volunteer: Why is this confusing?

Not-Head-Volunteer: Oh!  You must not know.

Me: Not know what?

At this point, the not-head volunteer pulls out a program for the event currently in session.  And there, the second entry on the program, was "A-Muse-Ment by Thomas Gumbel".  Jaw was dropped, eyes were wide, shit was flipped.  I couldn't believe it.  I rushed as quietly as possible into the little theater and...

I'd just missed it.  Son of a poop.  Son of a great, big, festering, motherless turd.

But hey!  I had my motherfucking play featured in Story Week without even knowing it.  And apparently people liked it.  So that's pretty great.  And I've decided that it's okay, because I don't want my writing to just be for me, you know?  That's not why I write.  I mean, yeah, a big part of it's for me, something about expression and saying things I can't say as a person through the page, bla bla bla who cares, but I write because I want to tell stories.  I write because I want to amuse, inspire, tickle the fancy of every inner child that can pick up what I'm putting down.

So without further ado, here is: not that play!  No, this is a different play, called "Monument".  IT'S ABOUT MUSICIANS.  IT'S RELEVANT DAMMIT.  It's a one-act, about twenty pages, which is why I'll be posting it in pieces, tagging the next part to the end of the next few posts.  I'll be posting some other music-related fiction things too later on, so stay tuned!

Scene One:

[Lights up on a semi-furnished basement.  There are several outlets and power strips.  There’s a drum set in one corner and a couch in the other.  There is an amp between the couch and the drum set.  Bang is sitting behind the drum set.  Slap is sitting on the amp.]

 [Bang is tuning his drum set as Slap lights up a cigarette.  Bang stops playing and stares at him.  After a few seconds, Slap notices and looks at him.]

Slap: Oh, right!

[Slap is about to drop the cigarette on the floor.]

Bang: Dude!

Slap: Sorry!  Sorry! [accidentally drops the cigarette] Oh.

Bang: FUCK!  Stomp the thing, god damn you!

[Bang throws a drumstick at the still-lit cigarette, almost hitting Slap’s foot as he stomps it out.  Bang glares at Slap.]

Slap: What?

Bang: More burns.  More burns on my goddamn carpet.

Slap: Hey, first, it’s your mom’s carpet…

Bang: So silly of me!  Cool, I just have to explain the burns to my mom.

Slap: Oh, calm down. [picks up the cigarette butt] See?  They’re minor.

[Bang rolls his eyes; Slap tosses the butt away when he’s not looking.]

Bang: You’re a dick.

Slap: So you tell me.

[They laugh.  Silence.  They’re not looking at each other.]

Bang: I still don’t forgive you.

Slap: Come on man!  I’ve done it twice!

Bang: Dude.  A threesome is something you do twice.  Throwing your-

Slap: You haven’t had a threesome once.

Bang: True, but it’s coming.  On average, every man has-

Slap: I know what you’re about to say, and that’s the most bullshit statistic-

Bang: No! NO!  Liar!

Slap: Okay, okay, whatever!  You’re… destined to have a threesome, whatever.

Bang: …Really?

Slap: No, no you’re not.  But continue.

Bang: Shit like threesomes, and bungee jumping, and the Malaysian Giraffe Position-

Slap: [to himself] The Malaysian Giraffe Position?!

Bang: That is shit you do twice.  Not tossing burny things on another man’s carpet.

Slap: Fine, yeah, I’m sorry; but the Malaysian Giraffe Position?

Bang: Well, you kinda do like this Spider-Man thing- [starts to demonstrate]

Slap: No, no, forget it.  I’m – I’m suddenly terrified.

Bang: Wuss.

Slap: Deviant monster.

[Bang nods.  They promptly space out.   Silence.]

Bang: So uh…  I smell an elephant.

[Slap looks at Bang, befuddled.]

Bang: Like…in the room?

Slap: [slow realization] Ohhhhhh.  That’s actually pretty good.

Bang: You think so?
Slap: Actually, yeah.  That from something?

Bang: Nope.

Slap: Nice.  So yeah, elephant.  Elephant in the room.

[Bang gestures for him to continue.]

Slap: [takes a deep breath] I kind of want to break up.

Bang: I fucking knew it.

Slap: Please don’t take it personally, man.  I knew this is your baby, but it’s not about you.

Bang: It’s Screech, isn’t it?

Slap: [starts, hesitates, starts again] Among other things, yes.

[Bang starts to speak, but stops and puts his chin in his hands.  Slap looks away.]

Slap: Look man…  What if we just give Screech the boot?

Bang: Gee, wonder who’s gonna do that.

Slap: Dude – fine, fine, I’ll do it if you want, I barely know the guy beside the fact that I hate him, I’ll fucking fire him!

Bang: Great. [goes back to fiddling with the drum set]

Slap: What?  What is it?

Bang: Look, we lose Screech, we lose Shred.

Slap: So?  I mean, how?

Bang: Shred knows Screech.

Slap: She knows-

Bang: Did you say-?

Slap: She knows us too.

Bang: Did you say ‘so’?

Slap: …No.

Bang: You fucking did.

Slap: …So?

Bang: [levels a drumstick at Slap] Say ‘so’ one more time and I end you.

Slap: Look man.  I like Shred too, she’s cool, but she, like Screech, is replaceable.

Bang: Awesome, I’ve been playing with Josef Stalin for two years.

Slap: Stalin never had a band and you know it.

Bang: Well no shit dude.  He’s like the Axl Rose of dictators.  Definitely would’ve been a solo act.

Slap: More like the Idi Amin of rock stars.

Bang: [levels the drumstick again] Do not call Axl Rose a rock star in my presence.  He is a ginger.

Slap: Really?  Your biggest problem with him is that he’s a fire-crotch?

Bang: How do you know what his crotch looks like?

Slap: You called him a ginger, implying the carpet matches the drapes.

Bang: I implied no such thing!  You just like imagining crotches!

Slap: Do you ever think before words travel from your brain to your mouth?

Bang: You shut your mouth when you’re talking to me.

Slap: As I said-

[Without warning, Bang hits a cymbal wildly, making Slap jump.]

Bang: Enough!  We’re off-track as it is!

Slap: Which reminds me: why did you call me Stalin?

Bang: Hey man, that’s just where my brain went.

[Brief silence.]

Slap: What if Shred’s in on it?

Bang: What, it’s a conspiracy now?

Slap: No, you goon.  Here: we bring this to her, see if she’s on our side.  If so, hey, we’re only down by one.

Bang: [beat] And if she’s not?

Slap: Well…

[Silence.]

Bang: Hell no.

Slap: Dude…

Bang: I mean…  Fuck, no.  We’re not losing Shred.  Screech, fine.  I’ll give him the axe if you want.  But we’re keeping Shred.

Slap: Dude.  Re-place-a-bull.

Bang: [scoffs] Doctor Frankenstein.

Slap: Excuse me?

Bang: Geppetto!

Slap: Make sense!  Make… sense!

Bang: You’re replacing things!  Replacer! [Slap tries to interject] How do I know your family’s real,  huh?! [keeps ranting]

Slap: Okay, okay, shut up!

[Bang stops talking and glares at Slap.]

Slap: I think… you’re accusing me of cloning people.

Bang: [defiantly] Yes.

Slap: You’re insane.  You know that, right?

Bang: Look man, my point is, like Philip K. Dick taught us through his cautionary tales, you can’t replace everyone.  Not like Geppetto.  Not like Dr. Frankenstein.

Slap: I take that back.  You’re illiterate.

Bang: Bullshit I’m illiterate!  I just referenced Philip K. Dick!

Slap: Yes, very badly.  I don’t even think he wrote a story about cloning.  And what the hell do Frankenstein or Pinocchio have to do with this?

Bang: See, there ya go, it’s simple really.  They both… created life… to replace their dead sons.  …Like you.  [Slap is staring at him, slack-jawed and incredulous] See-

Slap: NO!  No, that never happened!  In either book!

Bang: What about the movies?

Slap: No.

Bang: Damn.

Slap: You didn’t read either.

Bang: I’m right about the Philip K. Dick though!  Mark my words, I’ll find the story I’m thinking of.  There will be dead sons and clones galore and I will paste it to your eyeballs so you view my validation firsthand!

Slap: Can’t I just read it?

Bang: Fine.

[Silence.]

Slap: I’ll fire Screech if you want. But-

Bang: But nothing; I don’t want you to, because I don’t want to lose Shred.

Slap: Why is this-

[Slap’s phone starts to vibrate.  He pulls it out and looks at it.]

Slap: Speak of the devil.  Wait a tic.

Bang: Wait, which devil?

[Slap gets up as he answers the phone, strolling a few feet away.]

Slap: Hello?

Bang: Which one, dude?  Hey!

Slap: What’s up, Shred?

Bang: There we go.  Was that so hard?

[Brief silence as Slap is listening to Shred.]

Slap: Oh wow.  Great, great. [beat] Yeah, we’re just tuning up here.

Bang: [“whispering” loudly] What’s she saying?

Slap: …You do?  That’s… [glances at Bang] Interesting.  Yeah, yeah, totally.

Bang: [sticks out his arm, still whispering loudly] Can I talk to her?

Slap: Yeah, no problem!  See you soon. [hangs up]

Bang: Dickbastard!

Slap: …What and why?

Bang: I asked to talk to her!

Slap: So?

[Bang tackles Slap, smacking him on the back with a drumstick.]

Slap: He’s crazy!  He’s crazy HELP MEEEE!

Bang: So?  SO?  SO?!  How’s the word sound now, Slap?!  Sososososososo-

Slap: FUUUUCCCKKK!

[Bang stops hitting Slap.]

Slap: I’m fucking sorry, okay?  I’m sorry for saying ‘so’!

Bang: …Thank you. [sits down on the amp]

Slap: [dusting himself off] I swear to God you were dropped at birth.

Bang: Well… [clears throat and looks away]

Slap: Wait, you were?

Bang: No!  I just… while I was…

[A long silence follows.  Slap stares at Bang.  A doorbell sounds.  Bang rushes to sit behind his drum set.]

Bang: Could you get that?

Slap: No dude, it’s your house!

Bang: So?  You’re closer.

Slap: So? SO?  Do I get to beat you with a drumstick now, huh?!

Bang: Get the door, Slap.

[Doorbell chimes again.]

Slap: Fine; fine! [starts walking out] God damn, you’re impossible.

[Bang watches Slap walk out.  Once he does, he starts to re-tune his drum set while whistling to himself.]