(A modestly well-furnished living room. At center stage is a couch with a small nightstand to its right. On top of the nightstand is a lamp with a removable shade, as well as a heavy, bronze statuette and a small cup. At stage left is a copy of “Starry Night” by Van Gogh. At upstage right is a frame, which represents the closet door. In relatively the same spot at upstage left is a door leading to the basement. At downstage right is a large TV resting on top of a small credenza. At stage right is the home’s front door. As the lights come up, we hear a fumbling outside the front door, followed by the doorknob shaking. After a few moments, we hear a click and DALE comes creeping through the door, followed closely by JEFF. Both are dressed in all black.)

DALE: Close the door.

JEFF: (after carefully closing the door shut) Are we really going
through with this, Dale? What if they come home?

DALE: Don’t you worry about that, Jeff. I been staking this
place out for a couple weeks. Every Tuesday night they
leave the house and are gone for at least two hours.
We got nothin’ to worry about.

JEFF: If you say so. (Pause) So why this house?

DALE: (motions towards the TV) Because of this.

JEFF: All this trouble for a TV?

DALE: Not just any TV. The Miyazaki Photon Class, 75-inch
1080p HDTV. The latest in eye-irradiating technology.
Retails at $3,500, but with a little finagling and a
gratuity for our trouble, we can bump that up to 4
grand, easy.
(chuckles maniacally as he speaks) And it’s all ours!

JEFF: (staring in awe) It’s…beautiful. (Pause) Looks a little
heavy, though.

DALE: Which is why I dragged your slow ass along. (crouches
at one end of the TV) Now if you’re done ogling the
tube, would you mind giving me a hand with this thing?

JEFF: Oh! Sorry, Dale.

(DALE grabs the other end of the TV and, together,
they struggle as they lift it.)

JEFF: (exerting himself) This thing…is actually…very heavy.

DALE: Just walk!

(The two begin maneuvering towards the front door but
are suddenly stopped dead. The TV lurches backward,
and the two struggle to hold it steady.)

DALE: (between pained breaths) Goddammit, it’s still plugged                                                in!
Back! Go back!
(They set the TV back down on the credenza. JEFF
reaches behind the TV and tears out all the plugs.)

DALE: Hey be careful, moron. Don’t damage the wires.

JEFF: Alright, we’re good.

DALE: Let’s try this again. Okay on three. One…two…
(Suddenly, the doorknob starts rattling. Muffled
voices can be heard as someone struggles to get a key
in the lock.)

DALE: (hissing) Shit!

JEFF: Oh crap, what do we do? What do we do?

DALE: The closet! Get in the closet.
(The two rush into the closet and close the door just as
MARGARET and DENNIS enter through the front door.
MARGARET comes in first looking visibly angry, while
DENNIS just shuffles in indifferently and closes the
door behind him. The closet slowly cracks open with
DALE and JEFF peering into the living room.)

MARGARET: What the hell is wrong with you, Dennis?!

DENNIS: (sheepishly) I’m sorry, Margaret, I don’t know what
came over me.

MARGARET: We’ve had dinner with the Everlys every Tues
day for the last two years! If you were tired of doing
that, you could’ve just said so. Instead you insult
Beverly’s cook-ing and Frank’s new job, and humiliate
me in front of the only people who would have dinner
with us anymore.

DENNIS: (exploding) Oh come off it! The Everlys were morons
anyway. Beverly is always going on and on about her
name.(mocking voice) Hi, I’m Beverly Everly. I’m
Beverly Everly. I’m Beverly cock-fucking Everly! And
fuck Frank! Always going on and on about his wonder
ful new upper management position, gloating! Just
cramming it right in my face!

MARGARET: Oh ho! Now it comes out! You’re jealous of Frank.

DENNIS: Like hell I am!

MARGARET: Oh yes you are! Admit it, you’re jealous that
Frank is more successful than you’ll ever be.

DENNIS: And Beverly is better looking than you’ll ever be!

MARGARET: Then why the hell don’t you go over there
and fuck her?

DENNIS: Like you’ve been fucking Frank!

MARGARET: (completely caught off-guard) I…what…how?

DENNIS: I’m not stupid, Margaret. I followed you one night on
your way to one of your “book clubs.” For the record,
it’s risky to use that excuse twice a month, much less
twice a week. When you got to the motel off of 80, I
saw you and him go into a room together.

MARGARET: You…you followed me?!

DENNIS: That’s the detail you choose to focus on? God I hate
that! I hate when you get worked up over the most re-
dundant bullshit. I hate it when you act all friendly to
people when you’re talking to them and immediately
start gossiping behind their backs. (Pause) I hate that
you eat spaghetti with a spoon. What the hell is with
that?! Gah, I hate you!

MARGARET: And I hate that you’ve always let people step all
over you. All this time you knew I was sleeping with
Frank, and it took you this long to grow a spine? Well
I’ve had enough. It’s over. I’m leaving you, Dennis,
and Frank’s leaving Beverly. Soon, I’ll be starting my
new life as Margaret Everly, wife of Frank Everly,
regional manager.

DENNIS: Don’t say those words!

MARGARET: (mockingly coy) What words? Oh, do you mean
regional manager?

DENNIS: Stop it!
(DENNIS begins to back up towards the nightstand
with the lamp and statuette.)

MARGARET: (chanting) Regional manager. Regional manager.
(DENNIS begins reaching behind him and feels the
statuette.)

DENNIS: I said stop it!

MARGARET: Regional manager! Regional manager!

DENNIS: STOP!

(DENNIS swings the statuette wildly. It connects with
MARGARET’s temple and she crumples to the floor.
DENNIS stares with wide-eyed horror, mouth agape.
JEFF and DALE exchange looks as they, too, look on in
disbelief.)

DENNIS: (feebly) Margaret?
(DENNIS slowly crouches over MARGARET’s unmov-
ing body. He hesitantly puts his fingers to her neck and
feels for a pulse. After a few moments, he jolts back to
a stand ing position and looks away into space. His
eyes widen and his breathing becomes stilted.)

DENNIS: Oh God, she’s dead. (He checks the body again)
Still dead. Oh fuck. Okay, Dennis, think…think!
(DENNIS paces back and forth for a few moments
before eyeing the basement door.)

DENNIS: Ah!
(DENNIS grabs MARGARET’s body and drags it
towards and through the basement door, shutting it
behind him. He is heard dragging it down the steps.
DALE and JEFF come bursting out of their hiding
spot and head for the door.)

JEFF: We gotta get out of here!

DALE: I hear ya!
(The two are halfway out the door when DALE
remembers something.)

DALE: The TV!

JEFF: Come on, Dale, really?

DALE: Just help me!

JEFF: It’s just a TV.

DALE: It is not just a TV! It is the Miyazaki Photon Class, 75-
inch 1080p HDTV!

JEFF: (Pause) Okay, fine.
(The two once again grab the TV and struggle to lift
it.As they head towards the door, DENNIS can be
heard coming back up the stairs.)

JEFF: Oh crap, oh crap!

DALE: Put it down!
(They set the TV back down just as DENNIS is starting
to open the basement door.)

DALE: Shit, back in the closet.
(They duck back into the closet as DENNIS enters into
the room. He is looking paler than before. He shuffles
over to the couch and falls onto it. He sits staring at the
floor mum bling inaudibly to himself, trying to come to
grips with what he’s just done. He raises his right
hand to eye level, and it begins moving its thumb
like a mouth.)

DENNIS’ HAND: You did what you had to do, Dennis.
(DALE and JEFF exchange concerned glances.)

DENNIS: What did you say?

DENNIS’ HAND: All she ever did was hold you back. You always
used her well-being as an excuse to stop pursuing
your dreams. She was the crutch that kept you from
spreading your wings.

DENNIS: But I loved her.

DENNIS’ HAND: And she never loved you back, not even when
you were young. You went on boring dates, followed
by a night of lousy sex, and when she saw all of her
friends getting married and having families, she
settled for you. You were always just a means to an
end with her.

DENNIS: Why are you telling me this?!

DENNIS’ HAND: Because I’m your friend, Dennis. Because I
want what is best for you.

DENNIS: And…what is best for me?

DENNIS’ HAND: (leans in closer) Your freedom. (under its
breath) To kill people.

DENNIS: What was that?

DENNIS’ HAND: Hmm? Oh, nothing. Say, you look pretty hun-
gry, big guy. Bet you’d like some tacos right about now!

DENNIS: Well…I actually know a good place down the street.
Let me grab my jacket.
(DENNIS starts heading towards the front door when
there is a knock on it.)

DENNIS: Oh God, it’s the police, I’m fucked!
(DALE and JEFF start panicking as well.)

DENNIS’ HAND: Calm down, you idiot, there’s no way they
could have found out already.

DENNIS: What if one of the neighbors heard the fight? God,
they probably heard that three towns over.
(More knocks at the door.)

DENNIS’ HAND: Just grow a pair and see who it is.
(DENNIS hesitantly reaches for the knob. All three men
collectively hold their breath as DENNIS turns the knob
and creaks open the door. Standing on the doorstep
is SKIP, the next door neighbor. He beams widely as
DENNIS opens the door.)

SKIP: Hey, neighbor! How you doing?

DENNIS: (nervously) I’m fine, Skip. Um…how are you?
You doing… good?

SKIP: (oblivious) Yessir, thanks for asking. (awkward pause) Uh,
well, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but…is…
everything okay over here? I thought I heard a bit of a
commotion not too long ago, and I just wanted make
sure you folks were alright.

DENNIS’ HAND: (whispering) Invite him in.

DENNIS: Oh, where are my manners? Come on in, Skip.

SKIP: Ah, thanks Dennis.
(SKIP steps inside and DENNIS closes the door
behind him.)

DENNIS: Would you like something to drink?

SKIP: Oh no, I don’t want to impose anymore than I already am.
So what happened?

DENNIS: Margaret and I had a bit of a nasty fight.

SKIP: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is everything alright?

DENNIS: It will be. Margaret’s upstairs right now. I’m just going
to let her be for now.

SKIP: Yeah well…I guess that’s all you can do for now. (lowering
his voice) Women, eh?

DENNIS: Mm…yes. (Pause) I hope our fight didn’t bother
you and Kelly.

SKIP: Oh no, don’t worry about Kelly. She’s upstate visiting
her mother right now. Yup, got the whole house to
myself, heh heh.
(SKIP takes a glance around the room before spotting
the “Starry Night” painting copy on stage left. He
moves to-wards it as he examines it.)

SKIP: This is a Van Gogh, right?

DENNIS: I didn’t have you pegged as an appreciator, Skip.

SKIP: I’m really not, but for some reason I always liked this one.
I don’t know, it just…speaks to me, or something.
(As SKIP is admiring the painting, DENNIS’ HAND
begins motioning towards him. DENNIS is confused,
so the hand picks up the statuette used to kill
MARGARET and makes bashing motions in the air.
DALE and JEFF see this, turn to SKIP, and start
hissing the word “run” at him. He doesn’t hear them,
and DENNIS moves up closer behind SKIP.)

DENNIS: I know what you mean. You look at it and see a won
derful place, a better place. Despite the stylization and
whimsy, it’s a place that seems more real to you the
more you look at it. (moves up right behind him) If you
just…keep looking at it.
(DALE and JEFF look on in stunned silence. SKIP
keeps admiring the painting.)

SKIP: Yeah…never thought about it that way…but yeah. (Pause)
You know, I was wrong about you, Dennis, you’re
alright. To be honest, I always thought you were kind of
a weirdo…

(DENNIS strikes SKIP in the back of the skull with the
statuette. SKIP collapses to the floor dead. DENNIS
puts the  statuette back on the nightstand and drags
the body over to the basement door and drags it down
the steps. Once again, DALE and JEFF burst out of the
closet, and JEFF rushes towards the door.)

DALE: Where the hell are you going? Help me with this!

JEFF: (fed up) It…is just…a TV!

DALE: (exasperated) It is not just a fucking TV! It’s the Miyazaki
Photon…it’s a 4,000 dollar TV! What more do you need
to know? (struggles for the words) Look man,
I…I need yourhelp.

JEFF: (looks back at door then to DALE) Okay.
(The two position themselves on both sides of the TV.)

DALE: Okay, one, two, three, heave!
(The two struggle to lift the TV up, only to hear
DENNIS coming back up the stairs again. They put the
TV back down and rush back to the closet. On the way,
JEFF loses a shoe and rushes to put it back on.)

DALE: Hurry!

JEFF: I’m trying.
(JEFF gets his shoe back on but doesn’t have enough
time to get back to the closet. In haste, he grabs the
shade off the lamp and puts it over his head while
standing rigid. Just as he’s in position, DENNIS comes
back through the door.)

DENNIS: Did we really have to kill him?

DENNIS’ HAND: Moron! He knew what really happened. He
was just stalling in order to find some evidence.

DENNIS: Then why wouldn’t he just call the cops? Report a
domestic situation?

DENNIS’ HAND: I don’t know, maybe because he was an idiot!
An idiot like you! Now be quiet, and go get tacos.

DENNIS: But I’m really not…

DENNIS’ HAND: Tacos!
(DENNIS walks towards the front door but stops
directly to the right and a little in front of JEFF with the
lampshade on his head. JEFF remains calm.)

DENNIS: No…this is wrong.

DENNIS’ HAND: What’s wrong with tacos?DENNIS: Not tacos,
dammit! The killing and the beating and the dragging

down!

DENNIS’ HAND: Don’t raise your voice at me!

DENNIS: No, I’m tired of this! This is wrong, this is crazy.
You’re crazy!

DENNIS’ HAND: And you’re talking to your hand.

DENNIS: That’s beside the point. I’m not going through with this
anymore. I’m turning myself in.

DENNIS’ HAND: Yeah, go tell the police you brutally murdered
two people. I hear they’ve streamlined the lethal-
injection process over at state.

DENNIS: I could go for the insanity plea!

DENNIS’ HAND: And you’ll rot in a looney bin for the rest of your
life. It’ll give us plenty of time to talk to each other.
Swap stories, reminisce…hey, remember when you
killed your wife? Good times.

DENNIS: I have to listen to you now.

DENNIS’ HAND: Yeah, but at least I’ll go away once you’re done
helping me out with some unfinished business.

DENNIS: (Pause) Tacos?

DENNIS’ HAND: (patiently) That’s the first part, yes. But remem-
ber that I’m your friend, and I am here to help. I think
it’s time we paid a little visit to Mr. Everly.

DENNIS: Frank?

DENNIS’ HAND: Think about it: always one-upping you, always
bragging about it. (a little quieter) Sleeping with your
wife. They seemed pretty cozy in life, why not give
them a little reunion in death?

DENNIS: (thinks for moment, shakes his head) No. No, I’m
not going to do it. I’ve had enough of this. I’ve had
enough of you.

DENNIS’ HAND: Listen, you ungrateful little pissant! Either you
kill Frank Everly, or you’re stuck with me forever!
What’s it going to be?
(DENNIS begins pacing left and right in front of the
disguised JEFF.)

DENNIS: I don’t…know. Crap! Think, think! Man, I could really
use a glass of water.
(JEFF picks the cup off the nightstand and hands it
to DENNIS.)

DENNIS: Oh, thank you.
(DENNIS sips at the cup for a second or two
before realizing what just happened. His eyes bulge
out, and he turns around to face JEFF. In one frantic
move, he rips the lamp shade off JEFF’s head, and the
two come face-to-face with each other. Both men
scream simultaneously, and in panic, JEFF picks up
the bronze statuette off the nightstand and bashes
DENNIS in the head. DENNIS falls to the floor dead.
DALE hesitantly leaves the closet and joins JEFF as
they look down at DENNIS’ body.)

DALE: Jesus, man, what did you do?

JEFF: Oh God, he took the lampshade…then he screamed, and
screamed…and, and…I killed him.

DALE: Damn…help me with this would ya?
(DALE positions himself at one end of the TV. JEFF
continues to stare in shock.)

DALE: (testily) Come on!

JEFF: What…what have I done?

DALE: Listen, we’ll talk about it after we’ve got this thing
outta here. Okay?
(DALE walks over to JEFF and waves his hand in front
of JEFF’s face.)

DALE: Jeff? Hello? Anybody home? (raising his voice)
Paging Dr. Numb-nuts.

JEFF: (staring into space) Killed him…killed him…live with self?

DALE: Hey, I know. You can use all that money you’re about to
make to hire a psychiatrist. Would you like that, Jeff?

JEFF: …tacos.

DALE: (sighs) Make me do everything…
(DALE grabs JEFF and leads him to one side of the TV.
DALE grabs JEFF’s hands and makes them grasp
under the TV. DALE moves to the other end and gets
ready to lift.)

DALE: Now you just move with me.
(DALE begins to lift the TV up, and JEFF follows suit.)

DALE: (mood brightening) Hey! Now you got it!
(DALE turns so his back is facing the front door. He
quickly steps backwards. JEFF does not move an inch,
and the TV smoothly slides out of his hands. The TV
crashes to the floor, the fall forcing it out of DALE’s
hands. The TV is completely busted. DALE stares in
complete shock. He begins rummaging around the TV,
assessing the damage. He quickly rises to his feet.)

DALE: Oh God, it’s broken. (quickly checks it again) Still broken.
No, no, NO! Goddammit! (grabs JEFF’S shoulders)
Why didn’t you do anything?
(JEFF makes a crashing noise with his mouth and
starts giggling.)

DALE: Oh, so you think that’s pretty goddamn funny, huh?
(JEFF continues to giggle.)

DALE: (temper rising) Real fucking funny!
(DALE pushes JEFF to the floor. JEFF’s giggling
becomes laughter.)

DALE: (losing control) Stop laughing!
(JEFF does not comply and, in his rage, DALE spots
the statuette. He picks it up and stands over JEFF.)

DALE: (calmly, but seething) I’m only going to ask you
one more time.
(JEFF’s laughing becomes louder. He makes the crash
ing noise again, sending DALE over the edge. With
a yell, he raises the statuette into the air and begins to
strike down. Just before the statuette hits JEFF, DALE
stays his hand.He holds the statuette over JEFF’s head
for a few moments before throwing it away.)

DALE: (weary) Dammit.
(DALE helps JEFF to his feet.)

JEFF: (regaining control) Ugh…I…what? Oh man.
I’m…I’m sorry, Dale.

DALE: No, man. That was…that was pretty fucked up.

JEFF: (looking down at the TV) Oh crap. The…
Nakatomi…what’s it?

DALE: It’s okay. Let’s just…let’s just get out of here.

JEFF: Yeah…now that I think about it, I’m pretty hungry.

DALE: Jesus, seriously? (Pause) You know what, it’s okay. I
actually know a good place down the street. (looks at
DENNIS’ body and remembers what just happened)
Actually…let’s make that a few towns over.

JEFF: (looking at DENNIS’ body) Yeah…agreed.
(As the two head for the front door, all of a sudden
DENNIS stirs. With some effort, he lifts his head up.)

DENNIS: What happened?
(DALE and JEFF are startled by the unexpected
amount of life still left in DENNIS. JEFF runs and grabs
the statuette before bludgeoning DENNIS again in the
head. JEFF stands over the body, seeming unfazed
this time around.)

DALE: (baffled) But you…and you were all…and now you’re?  (Pause)
Oh, fuck it. Let’s just go.

JEFF: (after a second) Yeah, okay.
(The two scamper out the front door, slamming it be-
hind them. The lights linger on the scene for a moment
before going down.)

(Upstage center is a large arch with a black sheet hanging from it, which the audience can’t see behind. This is where the actors go to change costume. Whatever they need should be easily accessible for fast changes.)

GREG: (wearing a graduation robe) Finally! It felt like that
would never be over. I thought twelve years of school
was bad enough, but a four hour ceremony? That’s
ridiculous! (LINDSEY, also in a graduation robe,
shuffles in, holding a camera and crying.)

GREG: Aw, what’s the matter, Lindsey? Sad you’re not going
to see any of your old friends again? (jokingly dra
matic) All of those people who you’ve gotten so used
to seeing are changing and leaving for college. They’re
going to grow up and move away and become com
pletely different people with new experiences, chal
lenges, trials, and friends. Only on that camera will
those happy moments of our past be preserved!

LINDSEY: And I look terrible in every one of these pictures!
What am I going to use for my Facebook picture?!

GREG: (snatches the camera) Oh, come on, you don’t look
that bad!
(skips upstage with it, avoiding LINDSEY’s grasp)

LINDSEY: Give it here, Greg! Ugh! (He holds it above his head
where she can’t reach.) Why do you have to be so tall!
I remember when I was a head taller than you were.

GREG: Yeah, but I was always more mature than you. (looks at
the pictures) And I was never as vain as you. You look
great in all of these pictures. (suddenly serious)
Especially this one. You’re beautiful.
(LINDSEY kills the mood by snatching it away and
running behind the black sheet. GREG looks about in
surprise for a moment, then follows.)

GREG: Hey! Give it back!
(LINDSEY comes back out without the robe and
bouncing a ball.)

LINDSEY: Ha ha! I got your toy! And there’s nothin’ you can do
about it! Cause if you did, you’d be a tattle-tale!!

(GREG comes out on his knees, also no longer
wearing the robe. This way, he is clearly shorter than
LINDSEY.)

GREG: Come on Lindsey! I want it back! My mommy gave it to
me for my birfday!!

LINDSEY: Fine, come and take it from me, then!
(GREG reaches and reaches, but since he’s on his
knees, he clearly can’t reach the ball. LINDSEY
laughs.)

GREG: That’s not funny! I don’t want to play with you anymore!

LINDSEY: Who else is there to play with? Unless you want to
get scratched up by Mrs. McLeary’s cats?

GREG: No.

LINDSEY: You’ve gotta admit, playing with me is a lot more fun
than playing with those boring boys on your old street.

GREG: (mutters) I was taller than all of them.

LINDSEY: Well, then, it’s good that you have me! Whenever you
need something that’s way up high, you just come next
door to my house, and I’ll get it for you!

GREG: I want my ball.

LINDSEY: Well…

GREG: My mommy gave it to me. She hasn’t been home for a
while, and I really miss her.

LINDSEY: I guess… If it’s that special.

(She slowly reaches out to hand him the ball. He
snatches it from her, taps her on the shoulder and
shuffles away as fast as he can on his knees.)

GREG: Tag, you’re it! Can’t catch me! (disappears behind
the sheet)

LINDSEY: Hey! I can too catch you!

(She also runs behind the sheet.)

LINDSEY: (pokes her head around the side of the arch) Pssst!
Greg! Greg! Look out your window!

GREG: (pokes his head around the other side) Yeah? What is it?

LINDSEY: Is everything okay in your house? I thought I heard
your parents arguing.

GREG: It’s fine. My dad’s just angry at my mom again.

LINDSEY: What is it this time?

GREG: I’m not sure. I think my mom did something bad with
someone she works with. I can’t tell what his name is.

LINDSEY: I think I heard your dad call him Mr. Sunuvabitch.

GREG: You could hear him all the way from your house?

LINDSEY: He’s really loud.

GREG: I haven’t heard him shout this loudly since that time my
mom went away when I was five. Do you
remember that?

LINDSEY: Didn’t she give you a red ball for your birthday right
before that?

GREG: Yeah, she did. (Pause) If she goes away this time, I don’t
think she’s going to come back. I’m not sure what to do.
Who’s going to drive me to school tomorrow?

LINDSEY: My mom can drive, if you want.

GREG: (smiles) Thanks.

LINDSEY: And Greg? I promise I won’t go away and never
come back.

GREG: You promise? Pinkie swear? (holds out his pinkie)

LINDSEY: Pinkie swear. (holds out her pinkie)

(Lights dim for a moment. When they come back up,
LINDSEY is sitting on the floor, front and center, crying.
She has no shoes on. GREG approaches her cau
tiously from behind.)

GREG: Linds? Is everything alright?

LINDSEY: Go away!

GREG: Come on, Linds, it’s me! What could be so bad that you
can’t talk to me about it?

LINDSEY: I told you, go away!

GREG: I tell you about all of my problems. It’s only fair that you
tell me yours. (She doesn’t answer.) Don’t you
remember the time I told you I wet my pants during the
fire drill?

LINDSEY: (sniffles) And then the nurse only had girls’ pants to
give you, and you had to wear pink frilly pants all day?

GREG: You don’t have to rub it in. (sits down beside her) Hey,
I think I saw a smile there. Come on, tell me what
happened.

LINDSEY: I don’t think Ben and I are together anymore.

GREG: Why?

LINDSEY: Well… we were…. you know, making out at his
house, and his parents were out. And it was fun at
the beginning, you know, kissing and stuff. But then…
he got a little… too….

GREG: What did he do?

LINDSEY: (snuffles) He tried to take my top off, and I told him
I didn’t want to yet. I mean, we’ve only been together a
few weeks, but he said it was about time, and that
when he was dating Sally, he had her top off in a week.
So, I guess, I… I let him take it off, but then he kept go
ing, and I told him to stop again.

GREG: (horrified) Did he stop?

LINDSEY: I tried to get up, and he started laughing, and he
forced me back down. Like it was some sort of a game.
And I did everything I could, but he wouldn’t listen, so I
just grabbed my shirt ran out of his house.

GREG: And you ran all the way back here?

(She nods. He sighs and sits down next to her.)

GREG: You know you could have called me, right? I would have
picked you up.

LINDSEY: You don’t have a car.

GREG: I would’ve taken my dad’s car. Hell, I would have stolen
a car if it meant rescuing you from that. (Pause)
Ben’s a dick.

LINDSEY: (Wipes her eyes.) Yeah, he is. But I’m going to see
him in math class tomorrow. What should I say?

GREG: Don’t say anything. (stands up) And if he tries to say
some thing to you, I can deal with him.

LINDSEY: What are you going to do? (turns around and looks
up at him) And when did you get so tall?

GREG: Right after I outgrew those pink frilly pants. (LINDSEY
smiles a bit. GREG reaches down to her.) Let’s go in
side and get something to eat. I can make hot choco-
late for you the way you like it, with whipped cream and
chocolate sauce and raspberries.

LINDSEY: (takes his hand) Thanks. For everything.

GREG: It’s no problem. And as for Ben, you’ll only have to look
at him for one more year until we graduate. And then
you’ll never have to see him again.

(They go behind the sheet again and lights dim once
more.When they come back out, they are wearing the
robes again, and LINDSEY is holding the camera.)

LINDSEY: (Looking at the camera) I really am going to miss all
of these people.

GREG: Linds, I have to tell you something.

LINDSEY: You didn’t stain your robe again, did you?

GREG: No, and thanks for getting that out, by the way.

LINDSEY: I always carry those Tide pens with me. So what is it?

GREG: You know how I was really mad at my dad last spring?
And I filled out that paperwork to enlist in the army?

LINDSEY: Yeah, I told you that was a bad idea. Just do what I’m
doing and go to school in another state. There’s no
reason to bring the government into it.

GREG: Well, I did more than fill out the paperwork. I got the
physical and everything. It’s all set. I’m going out to
basic training next week.

LINDSEY: Wait, what? Next week? You’re leaving next week?!

GREG: Yeah. And they’re saying they’re running really low on
troops overseas, so I might not be able to come home
right after.

LINDSEY: Are you serious?! No, you’re not serious. You’re
joking. You wouldn’t leave me like this. You’re
joking, right?

GREG: You’re leaving too! You’re going to Washington!

LINDSEY: But I’ll be able to come back for breaks! I won’t be in
some other country!

GREG: You might as well be! And no matter where you wind up,
you’re not going to be my next door neighbor anymore.
You’re leaving and I’m leaving, and there’s nothing we
can do to change it.

(LINDSEY turns her back at him and stares at the
camera again. She starts to cry once more. GREG ap-
proaches her.)

GREG: The pictures can’t be that bad.

LINDSEY: I’m never going to see you again.

GREG: That’s not true.

LINDSEY: How can we? You’re going overseas! Everything’s
going to change! You might get shot, might get killed,
and I’ll never be able to —

(GREG interrupts her by grabbing her, snatching the
camera away, and kissing her in one smooth move
ment. While they kiss, he snaps a picture. They break
away, and he hands the camera back to her.)

GREG: Keep that picture, and you’ll be able to see me whenever
you want, and nothing will ever change.
(GREG exits. Lindsey remains, holding the camera.
Fade to black.)

YorkReview2009