Full Length
Death and a Hotel Room
Award Winner: Robert Creeley Award for Excellence in Writing, June 2010
ACT I. Scene i. (Excerpt)
The stage is set to represent a generic fancy hotel suite. The tightly woven ecru carpet leads into the living room, similar in tone to the couches, drapes, and wallpaper. The search for neutrality is palpable; everything representing some form of off-white or beige, even the granite bar fits the same hue and is only broken up by the glittering gold and silver liquor bottles adorning it.
There is a small balcony which open stage right (SR), facing out to the exterior of the hotel which overlooks a small patch of grass and brick walkway leading in one direction towards a garden and hotel lobby and in the other direction towards the back parking lot which perforates the beach shore backstage.
It is night and the air is humid and foggy. A light mist clings to the outside streetlamps creating a soft glow making one’s eyesight seem a bit out of focus or blurry. The deafening sound of silence is interrupted by the subtle chirping of the cricket. The moisture in the air kisses the skin, caressing the slightest outside layer of atoms resting on the body, highlighting the flesh in an almost classic film quality.
(AMANDA, a young woman in her 30s, is standing mouth agape, at the edge of a hotel bed, eyes fixed to a small square of carpet where a limp hand lay.
She is a little person, small in both height and frame, however, where her physicality lacks, she makes up in personality and demeanor. She has a very strong wit coupled with her obsessive need for control sometimes reveals her as overbearing and pompous, but her heart exudes utter kindness and respect for the people she cares most about.
She has dark hair and dark eyes and is covered head to toe in signature Middle Eastern olive-colored skin. She is talking to the audience as if she purposely brought them to the theater to tell her story.)
AMANDA
(To audience)
So I had met this guy at this restaurant I worked at last summer. He flirted with me on several occasions, always sitting in my section, saying my service was better than any other waitress he had come across. I merely obliged him for his influence in the film industry. “Small Town Kid Makes Big-Time Director” strikes the newspaper headlines back in his day, blah, blah, blah….
(She walks over to the couch and leans against the arm.)
AMANDA
(Continued)
I really wasn’t interested, but I felt if I’m getting objectified, might as well get published out of the deal. Andrew would have been royally pissed if he found out. But nothing ever came of it, so there was no harm in meaningless flirtation, or at least I thought. One day, finally, my script topped the number one spot of our conversation. I didn’t realize that my body had been the defining factor in the creation of this deal…which, pretty much leads me here.
(Pause)
Who needs a drink?
(AMANDA walks to the granite bar and pours herself a scotch. The ice makes a lyrical clinking sound as it glides across the glass reaching to get out, the whiskey cracking as it’s poured over just shy of the brim. She takes a sip.)
AMANDA
(Continued)
I’m a bit impressed. For an affair that no one was supposed to know about, the hotel is extravagant. I don’t know. I guess I pictured some seedy motel that lined the freeway on an off ramp, like along Newport Boulevard. After all, wasn’t the idea to only make use of the bedroom? Not that I’m complaining.
(She begins to walk around the room.)
AMANDA
(Continued)
I mean, upon careful review and reassessment to my current situation, I’m definitely more appreciative of the extra space, that and the bar. As I look around the room, I immediately notice the very apparent color scheme happening. I mean, look at it. Everything is some form of dirty-white, or off-white. I guess you could say ecru, or eggshell. Nacreous? Bet you didn’t know that one until today.
(She takes another long sip from her glass.)
AMANDA
(Continued)
They say that off-white is more calming, relaxing. Pure white is too brilliantly bright, tends to be sensitive to the eyes, and color often causes claustrophobia, or at least it does with me.
AMANDA
(Continued)
I wonder if this was the decorator’s intention. I mean, I do feel calmer, more relaxed, which has absolutely no correlation to the scotch I’m white-knuckling in my hand, whatsoever.
(Pause)
Anyway…
(Lights fade.)
Shorts
Blind Date
(INT. RESTAURANT. EVENING.)
(Open on a restaurant SADIE walks in and as she interacts with the hostess and then proceeds to be seated, the CHORUS is speaking throughout.)
CHORUS (V.O.)
Oh kindly, cursed Cassandra! What tragedy can you foresee? What horrible woe can you foretell of this tragic event? Dear, gentle Aphrodite, take an arrow from thine Cupid’s pack and pierce another’s heart. But spare sweet Sadie from this abhorrent fate.
SADIE
Hello! Are you Joe?
JOE
Yah!
(Shoving bread in his mouth)
Hi! Hi-yah! Hi!
(He brushes his dirty hands onto the front of his pants.)
Sadie?
(JOE is a stoutly fellow with a broadly thinning hairline and a bright shiny bald spot atop his head. A bushy mustache covers his protruding upper lip.)
SADIE
(Awkwardly)
Yah, hi!
(Both Sadie and Joe shake hands. Joe has one of those ferociously eager handshakes, the kind that can only imply a similarity in other areas in his life. Wink! Wink!)
CHORUS (V.O.)
Oh! Woe is me! Can you see this Cassandra? Someone must end this chaos. He didn’t even pull out her chair! His soiled garment will only be the beginning of this treacherous fate. Euripides would fail to find the comedy here.
JOE
So tell me about yourself, Sadie.
SADIE
Well, I’m a writer. I work—
JOE
(Interrupting)
That’s very interesting. Go on.
SADIE
(Awkwardly)
Okay…So like I was saying, I work as a columnist for ‘The Onion.’
JOE
Is that like a farming magazine or something?
(Joe begins to laugh and snarl at his own joke, snorting and choking all the while. A small yet direct droplet of spit shoots out this mouth and on to Sadie’s forearm.)
CHORUS (V.O.)
Zeus, awaken your eyes! Clear the clouds from the sky and do what Aphrodite refuses. Smite the mortal that defiles sweet Sadie in this atrocious manner!
(Sadie now feeling quite uncomfortable begins to change the focus of the conversation, while wiping the spit from her arm with her white linen napkin.)
JOE
Oh, me?
(Arrogantly)
Well, I’m in futures. I’ve done quite well for myself. Does that impress you?
SADIE
Should it?
JOE
Maybe if you knew more about futures. I can explain it—
SADIE
(Interrupting)
No! No! That’s okay. I know enough about futures to know that I don’t care—
JOE
(Interrupting)
See, futures are like invisible stocks—
SADIE
(Interrupting)
Like blind dates…
JOE
Pardon?
SADIE
What? Oh! Nothing…
CHORUS (V.O.)
Oh! Oh! Oh! What chaos! What madness! Oh! Oh! Oh!
JOE
So what do you like to do for fun?
SADIE
I like to bike and—
JOE
(Interrupting)
Is it true what they say about you?
SADIE
Excuse me?
JOE
Oh! Come on! You know…
(Joe nudges her slightly and when she doesn’t respond proceeds to repeat the action as if that will somehow bring her to his level. Sadie pulls away immediately.)
SADIE
(Awkwardly)
No, I really have no idea what you are talking about.
JOE
You know, the Beatles… SEXY Sadie!
(The emphasis on sexy was not subtle or modest in anyway. He could have easily called her a ‘Backdoor Beauty’. By his intonation, it didn’t matter. Joe laughs again in similar form except this time there seems to be an added layer of creepiness.)
JOE
(Continuing)
Wanna make some bad decisions?
(Sadie stands up immediately.)
SADIE
Ok, that’s about all I can handle!
(She throws spit-stained napkin onto the table)
Joe…
(She takes his hand and shakes it with the same intensity he had shown her earlier.)
Yah, bye.
CHORUS (V.O.)
Did you bear witness to this tragedy? Cassandra could not even predict it. Cupid was blinded by a busy work schedule. Aphrodite lay steadfast in her ignorance. Even Zeus would not interfere. Poor sweet Sadie! Oh! Oh! Oh! Let this be a lesson to all who date with a shroud over their eyes.
(As Sadie exits, a thunderbolt pierces the dilapidated ceiling of the restaurant and strikes Joe. He falls to his death. After all, someone must always die in a Greek Tragedy!)
END.
Everybody's an Actor
(Open on a stage; coffee shop setting. Outside cafe tables dress the stage. SAMUEL SAMIDSKY and LISA WILLARD are seated at a table. All other tables and seats are occupied. There is one empty seat at SAMUEL and LISA’s table.)
SAMUEL
I hate actors…
LISA
Hey!
(SAMUEL SAMIDSKY is an independent film director; a tall, gangly looking fellow, with thick, wavy brown hair and a matching scraggly beard that he was known to scratch with great intensity when deep in thought.)
(LISA WILLARD is a young black woman with gigantic wiry black hair that sits atop her head effortless in its perfection. She is an independent film star famous for her choices in character diversity.)
SAMUEL
Well, of course…except for you.
LISA
Ha! Ha!
SAMUEL
Where is he? He’s already fifteen minutes late!
LISA
Calm down, Samuel.
(STRANGER #1 approaches the table hastily clutching the empty chair in utter disparity.)
STRANGER #1
Can I use this chair?
LISA
No. I’m sorry. Someone is sitting here. /Did you want to get started without him?
SAMUEL
Where is he?
(Samuel anxiously pulls the empty chair closer towards his left thigh.)
LISA
I wanted to address the relationship between my character and Mike’s character. Being an Absurdist piece makes me wonder if I shouldn’t be more abstract in my emotion—
SAMUEL
GOD DAMMIT!!!
(Lisa jumps a little at this outburst. STRANGER #2 approaches the empty chair, and grabs it with a confidence that implies ownership. He points to the chair partially in question with one hand, while, at the same time, dragging it away from Samuel’s thigh with the other.)
STRANGER #2
Can I take this? Yes?
SAMUEL
No!
LISA
I’m sorry. We’re expecting one more.
(Samuel angrily draws the chair back to its original position while Stranger #2’s hand is still fixating on the upper rim of the chair. A sort of tug/pull battle ensues between the two before Stranger #2 finally surrenders and exits.)
SAMUEL
Can you believe that guy?
LISA
I thought that maybe I would absorb a different style of emotion then, let’s say, sexiness—
SAMUEL
I think it would be detrimental for you, at this point, to… / Jesus! He’s now officially twenty minutes la…
(Samuel stands.)
GABLADJZZGRR! Argh!
LISA
Wait! Samuel! Finish your thought. You think it would be detrimental for me to…
(Stranger #1 reproaches the table again, severely annoyed.)
STRANGER #1
Okay, you know what?!
(Stranger #1 takes the chair.)
There are people waiting to sit and I think it’s time to give up this chair.
(Stranger #1 starts to pull away.)
(Samuel throws his arms fanatically into the air and onto the chair, gripping like a koala baby to its mother. Stranger #1 begins to pry the chair from Samuel when Samuel pushes the chair with all his might onto Stranger #1. Stranger #1 falls to the ground. Lisa stands up in frustration.)
LISA
Enough! This is ridiculous! You’re grown men, and instead, you’re acting like a fucking child, Samuel!
(Just then, MIKE HAMMOND enters. He is a broad fellow with an overtly muscular upper body and perfectly sculpted locks. He is very attractive, and very famous, but also knows this about himself.)
MIKE
Hello all! Great to see you! And I’m sure a “likewise” is in order.
(Mike chuckles at himself.)
What’s happening?
SAMUEL
Oh, nothing. Mike, hi! You made it!
(Samuel hands Mike the chair he was once hugging.)
Would you like to sit? We were just about to get started.
LISA
Oh, Jesus!
(Lisa stands up as if to leave.)
SAMUEL
Hey! Where are you going?
LISA
If you want to sit around and play footsie all day with this guy, just because he happens to be the ‘Mike Hammond’, go ahead, but I’m not sticking around to watch this fiasco.
MIKE
Surely, I don’t know what you mean, but I believe we were just about to get started.
SAMUEL
Yeah…
LISA
Fuck this! I’m out of here.
(Lisa exits.)
MIKE
Jeez! I wonder what her problem was.
SAMUEL
I have no idea…
(Samuel turns to Stranger #1 who is now hovering over the next table.)
You want this chair?
(Curtain.)