The Four Year Hole

So, during the fall semester I wrote a play that Xavier decided not to put on in the spring because they’re all a bunch of puritanical Catholics (I realize the theological contradiction in that statement, but nonetheless it is true). In lieu of getting to put on the play, I am going to post it in easily digestable serializations here on Diabeetus Mustache Rides. I personally enjoy reading plays, and if you do as well, I’ll continue posting further installments.

The Four Year Hole

Scene 1

The play opens in the living room of a dorm at Skidmore College in upstate New York. Colin is lying on the left side of a hunter green corduroy upholstered couch, undecided as to whether he wants to sit upright or splay himself out. Colin is 22 and a senior at Skidmore, where he has a full-ride. He’s of average height, but is built in the Bowie/Jagger mold of obscenely skinny men. However, unlike Bowie, Colin actually has some pigment and retains the tan he got over the summer. He is reading a copy of “Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung” by Lester Bangs. Colin grabs a pack of Winstons from a beat-up, rectangular coffee table in front of the couch, it’s cherry finish obscured by a mosaic of beer bottles, ashtrays, old essays, and back issues of Rolling Stone. Up-left is a shoddily hand-made bar. Up-center is “the kitchen,” and slightly down-right is a light-brown wicker chair with a heavily stained black futon cushion on it.

Luke [off-stage]: Hey douche-bag! Open the fucking door!

Colin: It’s unlocked…you’ve got opposable thumbs…what’s the problem?

Luke [off-stage]: I’ve got shit in my hands you prick! Now come over here and open the door.

Colin: Here’s a novel idea. You put down the shit in your hands…you open the door…and then you pick your shit back up.

Luke opens the door to the dorm room and begins pulling two bales of hay towards the empty space around the wicker chair. Luke is a big guy. He’s about 6’ 2”, spends 90 minutes a day in the weight room, and eats more in one meal than your average Vietnamese family of six consumes in a week. Had he been born in Nazi Germany, Luke would have been shown in newsreels as the ideal of Teutonic manhood. Short-cut blonde hair, blue eyes, and dumb enough to blindly follow orders.

Luke [while carrying a hay bale]: Dude, give me a hand over here.

Colin: Hold on. When did we decide to turn our living room into the set of Hee-Haw?

Luke: What are you talking about?

Colin: I’m talking about those sopping wet hay bales that are going to make our apartment smell like a stable.

Luke: They don’t smell that bad.

Colin: It smells like mildew and horse shit.

Luke: Hold on…I can fix this.

Luke runs back into his room up-right and disappears for a few seconds.

Colin [as Luke’s running]: Wait! Don’t fix it…Fuck…

Luke runs back into the room holding a can of AXE body spray and begins to spray it wildly about the room and on the hay bales.

Luke [while spraying]: See? Problem solved.

Colin: No. Not problem solved. Now it’s just going to smell like somebody’s keeping pigs in a middle school locker room.

Luke: You’re fucking crazy. Now the place smells like…(looking at the spray can) “Essence.”

Colin: Essence of what?

Luke: I don’t know. The bottle just says “Essence”

Colin: You’re a moron.

Luke: You don’t know what you’re talking about. This shit is like catnip when it comes to pussy.

Colin: Oh, is it now?

Luke: Hell yeah. A couple pumps of this shit and you’ll be up to you elbows in females.

Colin: So, what your saying is, if I use “essence,” women will find me irresistible and will drop whatever they’re doing, be it homework, yoga, or horseback riding, because they’ve become so wildly attracted to me?

Luke: That’s about right.

Colin: You’re an advertising executive’s wet dream Luke.

Luke: Whatever, I’m getting a beer. You want one?

Colin: Sure.

Luke goes back to the fridge and grabs two Rolling Rocks. He walks back down, hands one of the beers to Colin, and sits on the right side of the couch. They both open their beers and take a couple of sips in silence.

Colin: You still haven’t told me why we have a mini-barnyard in our apartment.

Luke: It’s for the White Trash Bash tonight.

Colin: Son of a bitch!

Luke: What?

Colin: Do you know what day it is today?

Luke: I dunno, but I think we’re still in mid-September.

Colin: No fuckmook, the day of the week. It’s a Thursday.

Luke: So?

Colin: Can we go one night without having a shitty theme party in the dorm room?

Luke: Hey! Our parties are not shitty.

Colin: Granted, they weren’t shitty freshman year, but after you’ve been to the same fucking party three nights a week for four years…

Luke: All our parties aren’t the same.

Colin: We had three White Trash Bashes last year.

Luke: And they were all kickass. Plus, this one’s already guaranteed to be different.

Colin: How’s that?

Luke: We’ve never had hay bales before.

Colin: You frighten me.

Luke: I try.

Colin: OK, I’m cool with having this little shindig here tonight, but don’t delude yourself into thinking I’m putting on a fucking wife-beater.

Luke: Dude, you have to rock the beater with jeans.

Colin: I don’t have to rock anything.

Luke: But that’s a major party foul. At least wear a pair of overalls or something.

Colin: Do I look like I would own a pair of overalls, much less wear a them in public?

Luke: I don’t know what’s in your closet. All I’m saying is if you don’t dress for the party, then any bitch that wants to is totally free to pour a beer on your head.

Colin: If a woman pours a beer on my head tonight I might have go Ike Turner on their ass.

Luke: Who’s Ike Turner?

Colin: He’s Ted Turner’s younger brother.

Luke: What does that have to do party fouls?

Colin: I need a fucking smoke.

As Colin grabs another cigarette, Friedman comes in the dorm room with a 30-case of Keystone Light underneath each arm. Friedman is a 21 year old junior, and is the only student in Skidmore history to be put on Triple Disciplinary Probation. He would have been kicked out his first semester if his Dad wasn’t a CFO at Pfizer who has already paid for a new swimming pool and girls dormitory to be built on campus. Friedman looks like he a groupie for Umphree’s McGee: nappy brown dreadlocks, a blue and yellow knit-wool hoodie, and cargo pants that are about 3 sizes too big. He’s short, but is so lacking in musculature that he appears almost lanky. He brings the cases over to the fridge and begins to unload them.

Friedman: What’s shakin’ kiddies?

Colin: What did you just bring into our dorm?

Friedman: Just a few beers for the party.

Colin: I hope you don’t expect me to drink that swill.

Luke: What’s wrong with Keystone?

Colin: It tastes like tobacco chew and piss, that’s what’s wrong with it.

Luke: It gets you drunk doesn’t it?

Colin: Yeah, and so does Aqua Velva, but you don’t see me guzzling it down.

Friedman: Will you two girls stop your bitching already? This is just for the beer pong and freshmen.
Luke: Fresh-women…I don’t want a bunch of horny 18-year old boys running around the apartment and puking in our toilet.

Colin: But it’s ok for 18-year old girls to puke in our toilet?

Luke: As long as they gargle some mouthwash before they suck me off.

Colin: Thanks for that wonderful visual.

Friedman pulls a monster bong from behind the bar and sits down on the couch in-between Colin and Luke. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a baggie of weed as he talks.

Friedman: Will you two chill out? No one is going to puke in our toilet.

Colin: You’re probably right. They’ll most likely make it halfway down the corridor and spew a Jackson Pollack on the wall.

Friedman [packing the carb of the bong]: Man, you know what your problem is?
Colin: Enlighten me Cheech.

Friedman: You’ve just got a negative attitude. You’re always thinking the glass is half empty.
Colin: And what? I should be thinking the glass is half full?

Friedman: No, you should be thinking that the sooner you drink the rest of that glass you can go to the bar and get yourself another drink. We’ve got, like, two handles of Captain back there.

Colin: You’re truly a philosopher king Friedman.

Friedman: Why thank you. [Friedman takes a huge bong rip and passes it to Colin}

Luke: What is that shit?

Friedman It’s some Afghan herb I got from Joel.

Colin: Joel? As in used record store Joel?

Luke: Joel who’s thirty-five and still lives with his parents?

Friedman: Hey, don’t knock the man. He’s good people.

Colin: [after taking a hit]: Damn, my eyes are watering a little bit.

Friedman: Good shit, isn’t it?

Colin: Well, now I know what Joel does with the money he doesn’t have to spend on rent.

Friedman [picking up the bong and passing it to Luke]: You wanna go for a test drive?

Luke: How many times do I have to tell you burnouts? I don’t smoke that shit.

Friedman: Your loss man.

Luke: I’m getting another beer. Y’all want one?

Colin: Nah, I’m set.

Friedman [exhaling after another hit]: Fuckin’ A man.

Luke goes back to the fridge and grabs two beers. As he comes back to the couch he hands one to Friedman and sits down just as someone knocks at the door.

More to come…