Two men sitting at a theater box outside in cold weather

Two men sitting at a theater box outside in cold weather


1: This shit is cold


2: What shit


1: The shit that never ends


2: Ah, you mean life.


1: No no no. I mean the weather. The shit. You know! The Shit!


2: No, I don’t know the shit. What is the shit??!


1: The weather!


2: Then call it the weather!


1: I just did!


2: No, you called it the shit!


1: Get a coffee bro. We’re in some fucked up play.


2: Life is a play my friend.


1: You’re acting out of character.


2: Call me schizophrenic.


[A psychiatrist pops out of thin air]


P: Did someone call for a doctor.


1: Ah shit son. We gotta get the fuck out of this dimension.


2: Call it the shit.


1: Well, whatever the fuck we’re in. This shit’’s getting real.


2: Now you got it.


P: Ah, I shall name you mentally ill. Come with me if you want to live.


1: Bro, heard that shit before. Ain’t going there.


P: We have free coffee.


2: And donuts.


P: Well, no donuts. No free HBO either. This ain’t the Ritz now.


2: A gal has standards. Can’t go with that shit.


1: That ain’t the shit.


2: Then what is it?


1: The weather!


2: But the weather is called the weather!


P: You two are nuts. Here’s some pills that might make you feel a little woozy.


1: No thanks doc. That’s what alcohol is for.


[Politician pops out of thin air]


Pol.: Ah, good ol alcoholics. I might have to make that illegal.


1: Shit Po. It’s a democrat.


2: I thought we were democrats.


1: I went libertarian a year ago.


Pol. Wanna hear a joke son?


P: This shit is not a joke.


2: Wait, what is the shit again?


1: The weather!


2: But that’s not what he’s referring to.


[English major pops out of thin air]


English Major: People, words can refer to more than one thing.


1: Oh shit, a fucking scholar.


2: A fuck. Now our brain’s are going to hurt.


P: I have a pill for that!


Pol.: I can make that illegal if you two will pay me a hefty bribe.


1: Ah, a crooked politician. The most honest kind if I ever met one.


2: I’ve met two.


1: You’re poor soul.


2: I ain’t poor. Just a bum with no friends but some people who won’t leave my head.


[2 Gets up off stage floor and faces audiences]


2: Fellow audience members. This shit ain’t a joke.


P: No it ain’t. Now you all take your damn pills and go bedy bedy.


[A plant in audience starts screaming]


2: Look, a fellow psch ward survivor. I surely tell you all you fools. You’re all dooomed.


1: [waves hand] Ah shut up. You’re scaring the imaginary people.


Pol.: Well, this shit got a little too crazy. It’s back to dimension 1 for me.


[pol unzips dimension in air and walks thru it]


P: I didn’t see that.


1: I did.


2: We’re really in the shit.


English Major: Now you’re getting it. Well my work is done.


[English major farts and opens a hole in time. It sucks him thru it as he waves to the audience members]


P: I definitely didn’t see that.


1: Starting to feel crazy doc.


P: I’m getting a litle warm. Maybe I outta take a pill. [takes a pill out of his pocket] Ah shit, this stuff makes my head hurt.


2: Kill yourself with your poison snake oil.


P: Starts choking.


1: I forgot to give you a name earlier. Now our imaginary friends are confused about who this person is.


2: [back to audience] he’s a psyhciatrist!!!!


1: This shit got heavy.


2: What shit?


[rain appears on stage]


1: The weather!


Fade to black




lights light up again, solo light on psychiatrist, now choking on his own vomit.


P: I now have seen the error of my ways. I shall die on the pills I gave out as candy.


1: Horray!


P: [dies slow death]


2: This shit got real. I just wish I knew what the shit was.


1: The weather.


Lights out


End Play


About Michael Medlen

My name is Michael and during my free time I avoid having a day job. Strangely enough, this gives me the freedom to run this blog. I write just about anything that can be considered art. I also occasionally post articles that may or may not be relevant to the theme of this site. You’ve been warned.
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