The Playwright Writes

A Playwright: Hello. I'm the author. Of the play. That you are about to watch. The following is a play about relationships. The critics will hate it because nothing about it is particularly revolutionary. The audiences will be bewildered by it because none of the characters have actual names beyond gender. Names are irrelevant because the author wants to maintain an air of pretentiousness that may otherwise be lost. Bold character choices may be taken at the actors discretion. Don't applaud. I don't want the characters to be under the impression that one or the other is winning. You may laugh whole heartedly as long as it is not at the expense of the opposing character. Failure to adhere to these rules will result in expulsion from the theatre.


Man: I'm the man.
Woman: I'm the woman.

(Playwright gives them a dumbfounded expression at these profound statements)

Playwright: I mentioned i'm the author right? Yes I did. Pay attention. You see we've already interrupted their in character argument to allow them to explain to you their relationship, let's try to avoid any further interruptions. Now jackasses...speak.

Man: I speak first.

Playwright: Apparently.

Man: May I step out of character?

Playwright: You already have. Don’t do that again.

Woman: If he is stepping out of character then I am too.

Playwright: No.

Woman (submissively not surprised): Ok.

Playwright: Any more of that and your part will be reassigned.

Woman: But my part is a stereotpye it's not what I stand fo--

Man (eagerly like an actor wanting to audition): May I slap her?

Playwright: Are you going to remain in character?

Man: Yes.

Playwright: Then go right ahead.

(Man slaps Woman. She cries)

Playwight: I have ambiguous rule in this universe.

Man: I have total rule in mine. Do you ever wonder why men get such a bad rap? It's the TV. It's the TV set that does it to us. You know what I mean. A man can't do anything. A man can't cook. A man can't clean. A man can't open a refrigerator without the wife telling him how to do it. I'm sick of it. I am dead sick of it. I can do things. I can be powerful. I can be a man. The damn TV set. The only intelligent man on the TV set is the black man. He's got it easy. He knows how to do it all. They're scared you know. They're all scared. Of offending the black man.

(Black Man enters conjured by the Playwright. Black Man shares a long look with the woman)

Man: As I was saying. I can be offended. I'm a white man. I'm a strong man. I can be made fun of. But you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the bull. The TV set is done. I don't need it.

Black Man: Excuse me.

Man: Listen, I didn't mean all of that stuff about the black man getting it easy.

Playwright and Black Man: Yes you did.

Man: No. Listen I really didn't. I didn't mean it. It just came out and you know how shit comes out. You know. I mean. I know what black people have gone through. You know. The slaves and Martin Luther King and stuff, it's hard. I know.

Black Man: Stop it.

Man: Stop what.

Black Man: Stop the bullshit.

Man: I wasn-

Playwright (helpfully): Yes you were.

Man (to Playwright): Shut up maaaaaan.

Black Man: You don't know anything about me.

Man: It's not as if you know anything about me. You walk in here and I'm supposed to respect you. Why? Slavery is over! It's done! Get over it! GET OVER! Wait.

Black Man: What?

Man: Was that good? I mean it felt a little over the top.

Black Man: No, no, no, it sounded great.

Man: Really? I got to the slavery part and was like woah how'd I get there that fast?

Black Man: No it was really good. Keep going.

Playwright: What the hell are you doing?

Woman: They broke character.

Playwright: Keep crying.

Woman: Jackass.

Playwright: What. The. Hell- are you doing?

Man: Well I just thought-

Playwright: You don't think.

Man: Well I-

Playwright: You don't think. I think. You speak.

Man: But if I can't think then-

Black Man: He's right.

Playwright: Who?

Black Man: ...I forgot.

Playwright: See.

Man: That doesn't mean anything.

Playwright: Ok switch parts.

Man: What?!

Playwright: You heard me.

Man: I don't see what that will prove.

Playwright: I promised this audience bold character choices. Now you can either do it or I can give, her (indicating Woman) a monologue.

Black Man: What would be so bad about that?

Playwright and Black Man: Thought.

Playwright: What?

Black Man (shares look with Man): Nothing.

Playwright: Any more questions?

Black Man: Yes.

Playwright: Go ahead.

Black Man: The script you gave me. It says I'm a black man.

Playwright: Why do you think you were cast?

Black Man: But the words. I don't sound black?

Playwright: What does black sound like?

Black Man: You know what I mean. I just don't sound like...I sound.

Playwright: Is this a play about race?

Black Man: Not really.

Playwright: Then what does it matter?

Black Man: I was just thinking-

Playwright: No.

Playwright and Woman: Thought.

Playwright: SHUT UP!

Woman: I'm - sorry.

Playwright: SHUT UP ALL OF YOU! YOU CAN'T DO THIS ON YOUR OWN! DON'T YOU REALIZE! YOU AREN'T PEOPLE? YOU ARE ME! YOU ARE WHAT I WANT YOU TO BE! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Thought! You want thought? You want thought?!?!?!?! DO YOU WANT THOUGHT?!

Black Man: I-

Playwright: NO! I know what you're going to say. You know why? Because I said it first! It isn't a thought if I give it to you!

Man: Calm down please. The children are watching.

Playwright: What children? I didn't create any children!

Man/Black Man/Woman: Your children.

Playwright: You are my children!

Man: Your children.

Playwright: THERE ARE NO CHILDREN!

Son: Dad?

Playwright: Wait. Wait. How did you get in here? You can't be here.

Son: Why not?

Playwright: Because I didn't create you.

Woman: Immaculate conception...

Playwright: What? No.

Woman: Yes.

Playwright: That's impossible and that is why you are shutting UP!

(Playwright snaps and she freezes)

Man: You just-

(Snap again, radio plays)

Playwright: Shit.

Man: You missed.

(Playwright snaps again. Man freezes)

Black Man (sneaks up behind the Playwright ready to hit him...snap...freezes)

Playwright: What have you done?

Son: I didn't do anything.

Playwright: You're in my thoughts.

Son: I am a thought.

Playwright (indicating other characters): These are all thoughts.

Son: No they aren't.

Playwright: What are they then?

Son: Someone else's?

Playwright: What?

Son: You didn't create them.

Playwright: Yes I did.

Son: No. You changed them. They are different but only slightly.

Playwright: Impossible.

Son (indicating Man): He's Rosencrantz.

Playwright: No!

Son (indicating Black Man): He's Cory Maxson.

Playwright: But what...what about her?

Son (indicating Woman): Her? That's mom.

Playwright: And you?

Son: I already explained.

Playwright: I don't understand.

Son: I'm your first original thought.

Playwright: I have lots of original thoughts.

Son: I'm the only one you created yourself. The only true child. The rest. Adopted. (Son snaps and Woman unfreezes) Mom?

Woman: Who are you?

Son: I'm your son.

Woman: I don't have a son.

Playwright: My wife is dead.

Woman: I am your wife.

Playwright: You don't look like my wife.

Woman: Do appearances really have relevance right now?

Playwright: No.

Woman: You are my son.

Son: Yes.

Woman: You killed me.

Playwright: No!

Son: Yes. I'm sorry.

Playwright: You're...my son too?

Son (exasperated): How is this guy my father?

Playwright: You can't be a thought. You were never born.

Son: Never but in your mind.

Playwright: What do you mean?

Son and Woman: Thought.

Playwright: Wait.

Son: I'm sorry.

Playwright: What is going on?

Son: You've created.

Playwright: But what happens after creation?

Son: Imprisonment of the Mind (snaps Man unfreezes). And body (snaps Black Man unfreezes)

Playwright: And your soul?

Son: Soul?

Playwright: My soul.

Son: Gone.

Playwright: Why?

Son: Creation.

Woman: You cannot think. You can only recall.

Playwright: But I thought.

Black Man and Man: Thought.

Playwright: No. Wait. I see what's happening. You're trying to take control.

Man: How can we?

Playwright: I...I can't tell you...because then you will!

Man: But we're only actors.

Playwright: Ha! No! You're characters too!

Man: We're out of character. Remember?

Playwright: But I can write a final scene. I can!

Son: Sorry.

Playwright: I can't?

Son: No. We're in character.

Playwright: No. You're out of character. Remember?! Ha!

(Son, Man and Black Man look at Woman)

Woman: Thought.

Son: She remains.

Playwright: But...

Son: In character.

Playwright: I'll end this all with my pen.

Son: Then you will end. You're a part of the story now.

Playwright: But I can end it.

Son: Ending yourself.

Playwright: We'll see.

THE END