Optional, a play by Mal (PART 1)

[MalReynolds]

(Open with a man onstage. The set is bare-bones. A sofa, a television, and in the middle of the room, a ladder. The man in the room is walking up the ladder with a noose, trying to toss it over a ceiling beam, but he isn’t having much luck at all. Frustrated, he climbs higher on the ladder, as a woman walks into the room carrying a bag of groceries, listening to an MP3 player. She can’t see the man quiet yet, and puts the bag down on the floor as she fumbles to put her keys away. She finally notices her roommate on the ladder trying to hang a noose. The woman is DARIA, the man is MALCOLM.)

DARIA: What’s going on here, exactly?

MALCOLM: Do you know how hard it is to hang a noose?

DARIA: What?

MALCOLM: To hang a noose. I’ve been trying for the better part of two hours. There has to be an easier way to go about this.

DARIA: Go about what?

MALCOLM: I really didn’t think I would have to come right out and say it.

DARIA: Say what?

MALCOLM: The noose, you know, can only be indicative of so many things, and the first one to come to mind is usually the unpleasant thought of life, self-ended.

DARIA: You’re going to… to…

MALCOLM: Well, I’m trying to hang myself. At this rate, I’m not too sure I’ll ever actually get around to it. Unless you would like to try slinging the rope around the beam. I’m just not having much luck at all.

DARIA: Malcolm, you have so much to live for, why are you -

MALCOLM: Look, DARIA, are you going to help me or not?

DARIA crosses to the sofa, and has a seat

DARIA: I think it’s my moral obligation to try and stop you!

MALCOLM: No, no, no. Toss the moral obligation aside.

DARIA: I have to try and help you, Malcolm!

MALCOLM: If you want to help me, get up on the ladder and try and sling this noose while I get an orange juice from the fridge.

DARIA: Why would I do that?

MALCOLM: Because I’m thirsty, that’s why.

DARIA: You know what I mean.

MALCOLM: Because you’re my friend? Because you have a really good pitching arm? I dunno, because every second you stop me from being on that ladder is another chance to talk me out of it.

DARIA: Okay, I’ll try for you.

DARIA crosses to the ladder, and climbs, taking the rope from MALCOLM, who climbs down and walks offstage. DARIA half-heartedly throws the noose, which falls back. MALCOM walks back on stage with a carton of ORANGE JUICE.

MALCOLM: This orange juice is expired!

DARIA: I picked some up at the store today. It’s in the bag.

MALCOLM: Thank you.

DARIA: But you can’t have any, if you’re just going to be dead anyway. Why don’t you drink the rotten orange juice? It isn’t going to make much of a difference, is it?

MALCOLM: It is my plan to be dead, but do you want me crossing over with the funky taste of old orange juice in my mouth? You’re being awful greedy.

DARIA: Do you know how expensive orange juice is? You’re being unreasonable, if you think you’re just going to kill yourself after drinking my orange juice.

MALCOLM: I’ll pay you for it.

DARIA: Eight dollars.

MALCOLM: Highway robbery!

DARIA: Oh, please, what are you going to do with money?

MALCOLM: Obviously be buried with it. Why are you price gauging like that? You’re worse then OPEC.

DARIA: Because something tells me you won’t go down the street to get a four-dollar carton for yourself. I mean, you’re in your bath-robe.

MALCOLM: That’s very true. Will you take a check?

DARIA: Yes.

MALCOLM walks offstage and returns with a checkbook, as DARIA continues to try and hang the noose from the rafter. MALCOLM walks back on, looking around the room.

MALCOLM: I seem to have misplaced my pen, DARIA.

DARIA: I have one in my pocket, hold on.

DARIA hands the pen over

MALCOLM: So, who should I make the check out to? The war-profiteer?

DARIA: Har-har. Make it out to me, and for the “Purpose” line, write “Last meal.” That ought to give the bank something to think about. Someone paying for their last meal with one of their checks.

MALCOLM: Well, it really isn’t a meal.

DARIA: You know what I mean.

MALCOLM: Well, what you mean is you want the bank to feel some responsibility or some-such for a reason I don’t know. It’s not a “Last Meal” in the least. It’s a really expensive “Last Drink.” I could have gone out, bought cheap beer, and killed myself with alcohol poisoning for eight dollars.

DARIA: (Frustrated with the noose) Well, why didn’t you!

MALCOLM: And for a second, I thought you were concerned with saving my life.

DARIA: No, no, no, it’s just the rafter is so high-up, I can’t get the rope around it.

MALCOLM: Welcome to my predicament.

DARIA: Why haven’t you gone with another method? Why are you so adamant about hanging yourself?

MALCOLM: Well, I’m already invested. I bought a rope and a ladder today. I don’t want to see my money go to waste.

DARIA: How much did this cost?

MALCOLM: Forty bucks, total.

DARIA: How much do you have in your checking account?

MALCOLM: Twenty-five bucks, before my shopping spree today.

DARIA: You’re short-changing those companies!

MALCOLM: Well, luckily, I won’t be anywhere near them when they come knocking on my door, now will I?

DARIA: Wait a second, you’re short-changing me!

MALCOLM: Not if you get to the bank before they do!

DARIA: Oh, you rotten -

MALCOLM: It’s a fun game I call, “Race the Jewish Hardware Store to the Bank!”

DARIA: So, I take it you don’t plan on getting in to heaven?

MALCOLM: (Taking a swig of juice) Well, fundamentally, that’s a bizarre question. Are you asking because I short-changed that business?

DARIA: Yes.

MALCOLM: Well, DARIA, I do plan on killing myself so… Really, if you’re going to get wet, you might as well go swimming.

DARIA: Malcolm, I thought you were more religious than that.

MALCOLM: Oh, I am.

DARIA: Then how can you sentence yourself to a life of eternal damnation like this?

MALCOLM: As a man of faith, I believe in a higher-power, but as a man of science, I also have to see to believe. I’m a walking contradiction. It’s fabulous, isn’t it?

DARIA: Oh, wonderful. (She tries to throw the noose one more time) Malcolm, this is going nowhere. Can I take a break?

(MALCOLM nods and climbs part of the ladder, taking the rope from DARIA. He hands her the orange juice)

MALCOLM: You’re not allowed to drink any of that.

DARIA: It’s mine!

MALCOM: I did buy it from you.
DARIA: Sometimes I just wish you were -

MALCOLM: Dead, yes, I know. Unfortunately for you, this is turning out to be a little more problematic than I had first anticipated.

DARIA: Yes, I can see. Why don’t you stick your head in the oven?

MALCOLM: Because it’s electric and would do nothing.

DARIA: Well, you could cook yourself.

MALCOLM: I want to be dead. I’m not a masochist. Burning myself alive, slowly, like a human rotisserie? I have no stomach for anything like that.

DARIA: But dead’s dead, isn’t it?

MALCOLM: Yes, but I’m not an avid fan of pain.

DARIA: Oh. Well, why didn’t you jump out the window?

MALCOLM: We live on the second floor. If I was lucky, I would break my leg.

DARIA: I meant, in a different building.

MALCOLM: It’s the middle of December.

DARIA: So?

MALCOLM: The only feasible thing to do would be to go up to a roof deck or observation platform to hurl myself off.

DARIA: I know…

MALCOLM: And it’s the middle of winter. They close down the roof-decks and observation platforms because not only are they a liability when icy, but winter is the most depressing season and other people have gotten the idea to hurl themselves off. So, to be cost-effective and save themselves from frivolous lawsuits, they close off their decks.

DARIA: Well, why don’t you go to the floor below the deck and -

MALCOLM: What, knock on the door? “Oh, I high there, my name is Malcolm. I was wondering if I could borrow your apartment for about five seconds so I can dive out the window.” The person would spend the rest of their lives asking themselves if I knew them, or why I chose them, or if they had kids, the kids might try to immitate me one day.

DARIA: I thought you didn’t care about who you screwed over, in death.

MALCOLM: No, no, I don’t care who I owe money to when I die. But causing massive psychological trauma to people I don’t even know? What would be the point? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

(DARIA sits, unmoving)

MALCOLM: That was a joke.

DARIA: I know, I just didn’t think it was very funny.

MALCOLM: Is this about the eight dollars? Because I have some cash in my wallet.

DARIA: What?

MALCOLM: Yeah, the only reason I asked if I could write a check was because I thought it was cuter.

DARIA: No, no -

MALCOLM: Well, yeah, I can see that it’s not terribly cute, now.

DARIA: Will you shut up for a second?

MALCOLM: I could, but what -

DARIA: The reason I didn’t find your joke to be funny -

MALCOLM: Was it my timing? I can work on my timing.

DARIA: No!

MALCOLM: The subject matter a little heavy-handed?

DARIA: Listen: I go to the grocery store today to pick up some Penne Pasta and orange juice, and some food, because I planned on cooking for you tonight, and I walk in to find you trying to kill yourself? It doesn’t put me in the best of moods, Malcolm!

MALCOLM: You were going to cook today? Why on earth would you start now?

DARIA: Do you know what day it is?

MALCOLM: No.

DARIA: Malcolm, it’s your birthday.

(He frowns and takes a step down off the ladder)

MALCOLM: Is it really?

DARIA: Yes.

MALCOLM: Wow. How could I forget something like that?

DARIA: I guess you got caught up in the moment.

MALCOLM: I think it’s a little strange that I decided to do this today out of all days.

DARIA: Yeah, me too.

MALCOLM: Considering I should at least wait three or four days until my presents get here in the mail.

DARIA: Excuse me?

MALCOLM: Oh, yeah, my mother is going to send me a new video-game and my dad said he was giving me his old camera. So, I guess I could hold off a few days until I get my stuff.

DARIA: And then after you get your stuff?

MALCOLM: Well, of course, I would (Pantomimes throwing the noose over the rafter, and hanging himself).

DARIA: Malcolm, I think the fact that you’re trying to kill yourself today, of all days, is no coincidence at all.

MALCOLM: Why?

DARIA: It’s your birthday. Outside of Christmas, birthday’s have the highest suicide rate in the world.

MALCOLM: How do you know that

DARIA: I’m going to college, remember?

MALCOLM: Yeah? What class did you learn that in, “Morbid Curiosity 102?”

DARIA: No, psychology. I think you maybe juts have forgotten that it’s your birthday, because deep down you’re -

MALCOLM: Don’t say it.

DARIA: You’re-

MALCOLM: I’ll hit you.

DARIA: You’re depressed!

(MALCOLM shoves DARIA)

MALCOLM: Jesus, I knew that was coming.

DARIA: Because you’re depressed!

MALCOLM: No, because that’s exactly the type of psychological BS they would teach you in college. “Oh, your friend is going to kill themselves. There is no other answer other than depression. Oh, your friend is hanging himself from the rafter, he must have some Oedipus syndrome. Oh, your friend short-changed a small business, he must not have been hugged enough as a child.” I tell you, DARIA, those classes couldn’t be further from the truth, and I think it’s offensive that they’ve trained you to think that way. You don’t know the first thing about today, other than I want to be dead, and it’s just an unhappy coincidence that it’s my birthday, but I assure you that I am not depressed.

DARIA: Then why are you doing this?

MALCOLM: Well, because I’m depressed, of course.

DARIA: What?

MALCOLM: No matter what I say to you, DARIA, you’re going to stick in your college mindset that any answer that I give you is a lie, because there is no other answer than depression, because all college does is train you think a certain way, and after all the money that your parents are pumping into your college career, it has to be right. It can’t be wrong because it’s so expensive. Well, let me just tell you, Missy-College-Girl, you are so wrong.

DARIA: Woah, back-up. You think I’m less smart because I go to college?

MALCOLM: I think because you’re going to college, you’re afraid to question anything that might be different from the status-quo. You know, like, me killing myself when I’m not depressed.

DARIA: Do you have some kind of resentment for higher education or something?

MALCOLM: “Higher-Education?” DARIA, why do you think I want to kill myself.

DARIA: Well, I already said. You’re depressed, and you don’t even know it.

MALCOLM: I’m not depressed.

DARIA: Chances are, it’s something in the back of your mind that you don’t even know about.

MALCOLM: If I don’t know about it, how can it effect me like that?

DARIA: Well, my professor says -

MALCOLM: Forget your professor for a minute. Can you tell me, right now, how it could effect me like that?

DARIA: I don’t know, they haven’t taught me that yet.

MALCOLM: Then for all intents and purposes, you’re wrong about me being depressed. You’re just talking out of your ass. You don’t even have the schooling to tell me why something deep in the back of my mind would bother me.

DARIA: You know what I think?

MALCOLM: I do.

DARIA: I think that you’re a sad, angry little man because you couldn’t get in to college, and now you’re convincing yourself that college isn’t the answer for anyone, despite the fact that it has worked so well for everyone else all these years .The world doesn’t rise and fall because you’re under the status-quo. You can’t find normalcy in anything, and I think it’s because you think you’re inadequate.

MALCOLM: Well, then.

DARIA: So why don’t you tell me why you’re killing yourself?

MALCOLM: I’m not - I can’t even get the damn rope around the beam.

DARIA: Jokes aside. Why are you doing this?

MALCOLM: DARIA, I really don’t think you would believe me if I told you.

DARIA: Try me.

MALCOLM: Alright, but I don’t think you’re going to understand.

DARIA: Are you in love with me?

MALCOLM: What? No. I’m going to kill myself - get this - because I’m bored.

DARIA: What?

MALCOLM: I’m bored! I’m not depressed, although I’m sure, somewhere deep in the annals of college, they’ll tell you that they’re one and the same.

DARIA: Explain this to me, how boredom can make you want to off yourself.

MALCOLM: Well, alright. Religion tells us that life goes on forever and ever, if you follow a certain set of guidelines. If you follow the wrong set, life goes on forever and ever, you’re just a tiny bit more miserable.

DARIA: Right.

MALCOLM: Well, since it’s going to go on forever and ever, I don’t see the point in sticking around here when other places might be more fun.

DARIA: I don’t understand.

MALCOLM: I didn’t think you would, but first, take a step back and take a look at my life. It’s hardly what I would call “Challenging” or “Exciting.” If you’ve noticed, I’ve taken up many, many pet projects over the last six months in an effort to stave off boredom. I even built you the scale model of the Eiffel Tower out of popsicle sticks.

DARIA: It’s on my night-stand.

MALCOLM: And it’s gaudy as hell. I even started taking a correspondence taxidermy class, but that takes steady hands and too much patience for me.

DARIA: You’re going to put so many people through so much because you’re bored?

MALCOLM: Well, now you’re just being facetious.

DARIA: So, being bored gives you the right to put everyone around you through emotional turmoil? How do you think your family would feel? How do you think I would feel, if you had managed to kill yourself, to walk in and find you hanging from the ceiling?

MALCOLM: Well, I did write a note, that I think explains this pretty well.

DARIA: Can I see it?

MALCOLM: Sure. (He reaches into his robe and pulls out a folded piece of paper)

DARIA: “I’m bored.” Malcolm, that explains nothing.

MALCOLM: Well, it was a tossup between that, and “To die would be an awfully big adventure.”

DARIA: “To die would be an awfully big adventure?” Is that from Peter Pan?

MALCOLM: Yup.

DARIA: How would that help anyone?

MALCOLM: Well, the way I see it, it explains the situation perfectly. I mean, if you give the note to your Psychology professor, I’d bet he’d be able to explain it. “Oh, to die would be an awfully big adventure. Let’s look at the syntax of that quote, and ignore the fact that it’s out of some great literary work. We’re going to focus on the word ‘awful’ which is how your boyfriend was feeling at the time -” You would stop him here and tell him I wasn’t your boyfriend. He’d question why you were taking this so hard, never really understanding how infuriating I am sometimes. “Which is why he chose this quote. It’s also because he’s depressed, in love with his mother, and wasn’t hugged enough as a child. Do you know if he was breast fed?” At this point, you would feel vindicated and have no need to continue.

DARIA: It’s almost offending that you think you know me so well.

MALCOLM: I don’t think I know you that well, I think I know the college system that well. And he’d be off-base. “To die would be an awfully big adventure.” Simply meaning, my life isn’t adventurous enough, nor do I think it will be, so dying would be the next step into the unknown. You know, for science.

(DARIA slumps against the sofa.)

MALCOLM: Besides, you’re lucky. I thought about doing this with no pants on. The way I’ve always seen suicide is that it’s pants optional.

[esupin]

I know that wasn't the conclusion to the whole story, but I was expecting the last line to be brilliant. Unfortunately, the pant joke wasn't really funny, and it felt like just another joke instead of a wrap-up line. I liked the dialog in Rehearsal better.

[MalReynolds]

It's really just a cut-off line in the middle of the play. Sorry about that

It's a lot easier to write a piece for six people, but bringing it back down to two is a little more difficult. Although, I think this will work out nicely, when all is said and done.

[Tokzic]

This is actually really good - I laughed aloud at a few lines.

Keep it up.

[MalReynolds]

(He takes another swig of orange juice, as DARIA sits back, head in hands. There’s a pause as MALCOLM finishes the carton of orange juice, and gets up to throw it away)

DARIA: So… What now, Malcolm?

MALCOLM: Pardon?

DARIA: What happens now?

MALCOLM: With what?

DARIA: You! The noose, the ladder.

MALCOLM: Well, I’m going to be persistent. I’ve gotten things over the rafter before, so I don’t see why the rope is giving me so much trouble. Or you.

DARIA: You could have some kind of mental block, you know.

MALCOLM: Come again?

DARIA: We learned about it in one of my classes –

MALCOLM: Oh, God.

DARIA: That sometimes, you physically want to do something but your brain sabotages you, so you can’t.

MALCOLM: What does that have to do with this?

DARIA: Well, you seem to be dead-set, no pun intended, on killing yourself –

MALCOLM: That sounds so morbid. Could we come up with a different name for it?

DARIA: What?

MALCOLM: How about “World-hopping.”

DARIA: That just sounds delusional!

MALCOLM: Use it.

DARIA: Fine. You seem dead-set, no pun intended, on… “World-hopping” but what if that’s not what your brain wants? What if your survival instincts are keeping you back from doing it? It sounds like something the brain is capable of.

MALCOLM: That reminds me of a joke.

DARIA: This is a funny time for jokes, Malcolm.

MALCOLM: Exactly. So, one time, six years ago, there was this contest where all of the world’s greatest amateur comedians gathered, and they got up in front of a panel of judges.

DARIA: Is this going to have any relevancy?

MALCOLM: Just wait for it. So, the comedians are using their best material, but none of the judges are cracking. If the judges laugh, the comedian is going to be named the best comedian ever.

DARIA: Are the judges’ robots, cause that would be cheating.

MALCOLM: Will you let me finish? So, this one guy, notorious for his play-on-words style of joke telling heads up there, and he grabs the mic. He fires off joke after joke after joke, all of them puns. He fires ten of them off, and the judges don’t move a muscle.

DARIA: Because they’re robots?

MALCOLM: Let me finish! So, he heads out, and the other comedians were really banking on this guy to come through. The comedians all stand up and look at the guy, and all he says is, “Well… No pun in ten did.”

DARIA: What?

MALCOLM: Just think about it for a second.

(There is a pause)

DARIA: No, I don’t get it. How is this relevant?

MALCOLM: Well, you kept saying, “No pun intended.” I think you said it twice, and it reminded me of the joke, which itself is a pun on the phrase “No pun intended.” I got it right away when I heard it.

DARIA: What was the point of that, Malcolm?

MALCOLM: I was just sharing a joke, Daria, because it seems like you’re sharing your expertise in college bull-hockey with me. I thought I would return the favor and tell you a joke that doesn’t quite make any sense and give you a sense of perspective.

DARIA: Perspective?

MALCOLM: Yeah. You keep going on and on about college and psychology, but it isn’t making any sense to me because I’m my own domain and I can’t be classified.

DARIA: But what if you can be classified?

MALCOLM: I can’t.

DARIA: But what if you can be?

MALCOLM: This argument is going to be very cyclical, so I’m ending it here: It doesn’t make sense to me because I’m my own person. Just like you wouldn’t understand the need for a joke.

DARIA: There was no need for a joke.

MALCOLM: And there is no need for psychology right now.

DARIA: It’s funny that you chose the word, “Need” though. I think what you’re really saying is the mood is terribly somber and you feel as though you have to lighten the mood.

MALCOLM: No, it was just a word.

DARIA: But sometimes words mean so much, you know.

MALCOLM: And sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

DARIA: Funny, you throw a Freud quote into your anti-psychology insights.

MALCOLM: Because the man realized that sometimes something is just something. You don’t need to read so deeply into everything, all the time. All that gets you is sad, and a little ego boost. You think you know everything, and because you know everything, everyone else knows nothing, and you feel the need to educate them to bring them to your level to try and get a mutual level of understanding going. But all you do is tire yourself out trying to get people to see things your way.

DARIA: That’s not true.

MALCOLM: Just a few minutes ago, you were trying to convince me I was depressed because your college professor has you thinking in that mindset. You had to bring me to your level, be it above me or below me, without being able to grasp the concept that I’m familiar with base-level psychology, I just choose to ignore the constraints of it because it removes originality.

DARIA: But it doesn’t! It helps people understand things. It’s helping me understand why you’re doing what you’re doing.

MALCOLM: And what am I doing?

DARIA: Kil –

(MALCOLM coughs)

DARIA: Attempting to… “World Hop.”

MALCOLM: And once again, why am I trying to do this?

DARIA: Because… You’re depressed.

MALCOLM: Once more, with feeling. Why am I doing this?

DARIA: Because you’re depressed!

MALCOLM: That’s strike two.

DARIA: Because you’re bored?

MALCOLM: Bingo! Give that woman a cigar!

DARIA: But you might be the exception to the rule, you know.

MALCOLM: I could very well be, or I could just be good at arguing. For all I know, you’re saddened by my daily endeavor and are more easily convinced. Or, I could just be right and it really is pretentious to assume you know everything about everyone’s mental constructs just because you took a liberal arts class in it.

DARIA: Well, that’s not really fair!

(MALCOLM moves back to the ladder and picks the rope up)

MALCOLM: Life isn’t fair.

DARIA: If it doesn’t apply to everyone, what’s the point in learning it?

MALCOLM: That’s not a good question to ask me.

DARIA: Why not?

MALCOLM: … Why am I not at college?

DARIA: Because your grades in high school sucked and you blew the SAT.

MALCOLM: I scored a 1440 on the SAT and graduated with a 3.8.

DARIA: What?

MALCOLM: You always just assumed I did poorly because I don’t go to college.

DARIA: Well, that’s the only reason –

MALCOLM: The only reason I wouldn’t go to college?

DARIA: Right.

MALCOLM: No, the only reason I wouldn’t go to college is because it costs too much money. It costs too much money, and it’s a forced interaction society. It’s a forced interaction society, and it puts mental constraints on you. Oh, and a lot of people at college smell funny.

DARIA: But you’re condemning yourself to a life without a future!

MALCOLM: Right. So I’m getting ready to world-hop.

DARIA: You could get the challenge that you so desperately seek by going to college, you know.

MALCOLM: I’ve considered it. But at the same time, I don’t enjoy being mentally boxed in. And I think it’s ludicrous that so many of the number-crunching jobs in the world go to people who have a BA in accounting, but suck at it, they just did enough to barely get by. It’s a strange thing, the work place.

DARIA: Then why don’t you just play by the rules?

MALCOLM: Because I’m my own man, because I can’t be classified, because the rules are stupid and need to be looked at, because I’m whiny and afraid of change, because I constantly smell nice and make my own potpourri. Take your pick; really, any number of those would work.

DARIA: So, instead of facing down one challenge that’s too great, you’re just going to shuffle off the mortal coil?

MALCOLM: Hamlet, very nice. No, it’s not a challenge; it’s a stupid set of rules.

DARIA: It’s not stupid for everyone. It seems to work for most people, you know.

MALCOLM: Of course I know! It’s the stupidest form of evolution; everyone has to conform to a specific set of rules to be successful.

DARIA: That’s not entirely true. There are play writes out there that never went to college and hit it big.

MALCOLM: But I’m no good at writing.

DARIA: And actors.

MALCOLM: And I can’t act. The world wasn’t designed to fit someone like me, so I’m really not interested in it anymore. I’m bored of it. You have to go through so much boring stuff to get to the rest of your life, which I have deemed “More boring stuff.” And it’s always been my opinion that boring stuff should be optional.

DARIA: Like pants?

MALCOLM: Or college. Or life. Life optional. Me Tarzan.

DARIA: That’s very morbid, you know.

MALCOLM: Of course I know. But it’s true. You can’t sit back and decide that you’re just going to slug through everything you hate, because the endgame is exactly the same regardless of how you get there. I’m just taking a shortcut around the boredom.

DARIA: But that’s not fair.

MALCOLM: We’ve been over this – life isn’t –

DARIA: No, it’s not fair that you get to skip everything and you feel just fine about it. It’s absurd. No, no, what’s more absurd is what you’re saying is actually making a hell of a lot of sense.

MALCOLM: Really?

DARIA: Yes. You haven’t exactly proven to me that you’re the exception to any rule, so don’t think that. Life just… sucks, doesn’t it?

MALCOLM: Well, sucks, boring, different names for the same thing.

DARIA: And I’m going to have to deal with people I know dying all the time.

MALCOLM: Which is even worse.

DARIA: But I do like laughing, you know.

MALCOLM: Which is why we’ve gotten along so well.

DARIA: So, I could just… skip that?

MALCOLM: I don’t recommend it.

DARIA: What? Why?

MALCOLM: Well, you have prospects.

DARIA: But what difference does that even make? If all my life I’m going to be looking out for things that can upset me, or people dying, or worrying about making rent or getting laid off – I don’t exactly call those prospects!

MALCOLM: Right, but –

DARIA: And after we broke up, it took an act of God to keep me from moving out –

MALCOLM: And my winning personality?

DARIA: It took an act of God to keep me from moving out, and now look at what you’re doing to me. You’re getting me depressed!

MALCOLM: Maybe I’m just getting you bored.

DARIA: No, bored and depressed are not the same things.

MALCOLM: Ah-ha! At last, we see eye to eye on this.

DARIA: What do I do about being depressed?

MALCOLM: Go to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll feel better.

DARIA: When I wake up, you’re going to be hanging from the ceiling!

MALCOLM: Right, so… I guess the “Feeling better” would be very, very temporary. Maybe you could go out drinking with the girls.

DARIA: Oh, please. All the girls at my school think I’m a pretentious b-i-t-c-h.

MALCOLM: Maybe you should just go drinking with yourself?

DARIA: Drinking by myself? No, that’s not depressing at all.

MALCOLM: You could meet a cute guy.

DARIA: You’re a cute guy.

MALCOLM: I know, but I uh… Don’t bat for your team anymore, remember? You didn’t move out because I’m “not threatening.” Besides, any guy you’ll meet should have the decency to try and take you home with them, and if you go, you won’t have to put up with my body anymore.

DARIA: That’s not helping! I’m not a cheap floozy.

MALCOLM: So, you’re an expensi –

DARIA: Can it, you world-hopper. Did anyone tell you that you have an incredibly predictable sense of humor?

MALCOLM: You, constantly.

DARIA: It’s good that someone is around to put you in your place.

(DARIA sits back down on the sofa)

DARIA: If you go, I won’t have anyone to put in place anymore.

MALCOLM: There will be other people that you’re slightly better than that don’t mind almost constant cheeky degradation at the hands of a rabid ex-girlfriend.

DARIA: If you do this, I’ll be very sad.

MALCOLM: I know, we’ve been over this.

DARIA: No, before, I was just saying things, trying to get you not to do it. It’s all dawning on me that you’re very serious about this.

MALCOLM: I’m a very serious person. Note the serious face.

DARIA: Is there nothing I could do to talk you out of it?

(MALCOLM moves over to the sofa and sits next to her)

MALCOLM: You’ll move past it eventually, you know. You can’t be blamed.

DARIA: Why not? I’m in the room with you. I could… I could knock you out! That would save you. And I could get you locked up for evaluation.

MALCOLM: Would you rather have me locked up and miserable, or world-hopping?

DARIA: … I don’t know.

MALCOLM: I’m telling you now: There’s nothing you can do, or you could have done. I just wasn’t made for here, so I’m trying to get out.

DARIA: Well, when were you made for?

MALCOLM: A place without societal restrictions, I suppose.

DARIA: Places like that don’t exist.

MALCOLM: I realize.

DARIA: Malcolm, if you skip it, I’m skipping it.

MALCOLM: If you skip it, I’m staying.

DARIA: What?

MALCOLM: If you take my train, I’m staying at the station.

DARIA: Why? We could go out together.

MALCOLM: It was never my intention to make you understand what I’m doing; I was trying to get it done before you came in.

DARIA: I could just do it after you do it.

MALCOLM: To what end?

DARIA: You’re leaving me behind, that’s “what end.”

MALCOLM: Someone has to stay behind to write the book.

DARIA: The book?

MALCOLM: Of course. You write an account of what happened here today, throw in some of that psycho babble, and you have a best seller on your hands. It practically writes itself. And with one best seller, you wouldn’t need to worry about money for quiet some time. It’d be much easier to approach the social scene when you don’t have to worry about things like classes, of the status quo. You’ll be above that. So, you don’t really need to go, do you?

DARIA: You think I could write a book about this?

MALCOLM: Anything is possible, you know.

DARIA: I did take a high-school journalism class.

MALCOLM: That you failed.

DARIA: That’s beside the point. And if I decide that I really want to go?

MALCOLM: Then I’ll stay behind. I’ll tell everyone, try to explain it to them, face the rap, because for all intents and purposes, I convinced you to do this. I’ll deal with life because you didn’t have to. I’ll live for two.

DARIA: That sounds more exciting than what you’re doing now.

MALCOLM: Well, it will be, but I wouldn’t enjoy it. You leaving isn’t what’s supposed to happen.

DARIA: I know.

(DARIA lifts the orange juice container, and it’s empty)

DARIA: Malcolm, you drank my orange juice.

MALCOLM: I bought it.

DARIA: I know, I know. It’s empty, though, and I really want some. If I give you the money, will you run down to the corner store and pick up a carton?

MALCOLM: Sure.

(DARIA reaches into her wallet and hands some bills)

MALCOLM: I’ll be right back. This conversation? To be continued. This, this conversation isn’t optional.

(MALCOLM exits)

DARIA: Optional…

(DARIA slowly moves, picking up the rope and stepping onto the stepladder. She tries throwing the rope over the rafter several times She makes a final throw, and it hooks. As the noose falls over, the lights dim to BLACKOUT.)

THE END.

[Renommus]

DARIA: It took an act of God to keep me from moving out, and now look at what you’re doing to me. You’re getting me depressed!

MALCOLM: Maybe I’m just getting you bored.

DARIA: No, bored and depressed are not the same things.

MALCOLM: Ah-ha! At last, we see eye to eye on this.

Absolute classic.