My Internal Life: A Short Play--Act II

Setting:  February 9, 2009.  A large board room, somewhere in Scott's subconscious.  Lots of dark wood...probably mahogany.

Our characters, along with a handful of identical, but differently clothed, other men sit around a large conference table.  The one wearing a robe stands slowly, clears his throat, and begins.

PastorScott:  Ahem, excuse me.  Everybody...eyes up here.  Don't make me start working on Sunday's sermon.  This is the first time I've led one of these meetings, so let's see...

LethargicScott:  Oh, come on...I should be leading this thing.  I've been at every last one of these.  Even the '95 transition.  Heck, I co-chaired that meeting.

PostmodernScott:  Yeah...they asked me, but I didn't feel like it.

LethargicScott:  Hey, where is CollegeScott, anyway?

PostmodernScott:  He spends all of his time on Facebook now.  He's...

PastorScott:  Excuse me, fellas...got a little meeting here.  Now, because it is Monday morning, I'm in charge.  HusbandScott will be along shortly to co-chair...but that doesn't mean we can't start.  Now...it's been a little over two years since we met.

LethargicScott:  Yeah...when you came on board.  Hostile takeover if you ask me.  Between you and "The Tool Man" over here...

HomeOwnerScott: ...uh...

LethargicScott:  ...you two are really cramping my style.  When HusbandScott came along back in '02, I could roll with that.  Had to pick up my socks and vacuum and stuff, but it wasn't too bad.  But this new stuff?  You guys are absolutely killing me.

PastorScott:  Which leads me to our reason for meeting.  There's a new guy coming...and he's not messing around.  And so...hate to say it...one of us has to die.

Excited, nervous banter....eyes shifting around the room.

PostmodernScott:  Now, wait.  We thought this was going to happen back in '02, but the only guy who got...ahem..."laid off" was SingleScott.  

LethargicScott sniffles and reaches for a handkerchief...sorry, his sleeve.

PastorScott:  This is even bigger than '02...bigger than '03...even bigger than '06. 

Stunned silence as the assembly makes mental lists.

LethargicScott:  We're all thinking it.  We all know the answer, here.  It's him.

LethargicScott points to a huddled mass in the corner.

HomeOwnerScott:  BloggerScott?  He died months ago...around stewardship season.  I checked the pulse.  Long gone.

LethargicScott:  No, not him.  Next to him.

Points to another eviscerated figure nearby who is wheezing and obviously struggling to find the will to live.

HomeOwnerScott:  I like that idea...he's dying anyway.  

PastorScott:  I don't know...a couple of my books say...

LethargicScott:  Oh, come on.  Think about it.  Do the suit slacks still fit?

Pastor Scott:  In the morning...if I suck in.

LethargicScott:  Check.  Any reunions coming up?

PastorScott:  Not that I know of...

Lethargic Scott:  Check.  Still convincing yourself that the scale is broken?

SkepticScott:  Check.

LethargicScott:  Well, there we go...the chump dies.  

All eyes turn to StayInShapeScott, cowering in the corner.  He points at LethargicScott, opens his mouth, gathers his strength and musters four words.

StayInShapeScott:  ...you stole my IPod...

LethargicScott:  That's it.  He dies.

PostmodernScott:  Works for me.

PastorScott:  All right, let's move to a vote.

Door swings open dramatically.

HusbandScott: Hold it, hold it.  Not so fast.  As the chair of the transition team, I thought we should hear from the incoming administration.  Friends, here he is...

A man carrying a diaper bag, a pack-n-play, and a folder titled "Saving for college" strides confidently into the room.

LethargicScott:  I knew this day would come.

FatherScott:  Hello all.  First order of business? Points to the corner.  He lives.  HusbandScott and I have agreed that it's best.

PostmodernScott:  Well, somebody's got to go.

HomeOwnerScott:  Not me.  Scott's father keeps giving me the paddles ever four months.  He just won't let me die.  Just try and kill me...I dare you.

FatherScott:  Now, now...let's talk.  I don't think any of us have to die.  We just need to make some cutbacks...all of us.

LethargicScott:  I heard this same garbage back when HusbandScott came a few years ago.  Every time a new guy comes, a little more of me dies.  I used to eat Burger King once a week!  Once a week, people!  Nobody's given more than me!!!!

FatherScott:  Oh, shut up.  Everybody knows you had the most to give.  You're still twice as powerful as nearly everybody in the room.

HomeOwnerScott:  You kick my tail on a daily basis...and you beat him within an inch of his life every Christmas.  

StayInShapeScott moans from the corner.

FatherScott:  He's right.  But that's not the point.  We all have to make sacrifices.  All of us.  Even them. 

FatherScott points a finger down to the end of the room where several older, mostly disinterested members sit.  A gasp comes from the room.

PostmodernScott:  Not them.  We all like them.  Check that, love them.  They never hurt anybody...just leave them alone.

FatherScott:  Nope.  We all have to chip in.  Hey!  Wake up!

MovieScott, watching Goldfinger on his laptop, turns to the group.

MovieScott:  Were you talking to me?  You know you're not doing anything to me.

FatherScott:  Remember, a couple of months ago, when you saw the trailer to "Space Chimps" and said you would (and I quote): "Swallow a quart of Mr. Clean before you went to that movie?"

MovieScott:  Yeah?  

FatherScott: Remember when you forced your dad to go to "Oliver and Company?"

MovieScott:  Oh crap.

FatherScott:  And you...

LethargicScott:  Leave him alone!!!  He's like a father to me!

PastorScott:  Yeah...I need him.  Badly.

FatherScott:  No exceptions.  WAKE UP!

A man dressed in pajama pants and holding a remote control slowly rises from the couch in the corner.

SundayAfternoonNapScott:  Wha?  Guys, I was sleeping.

FatherScott:  We're going to need you to be flexible for a while.

SundayAfternoonNapScott:  You can't touch me.  I have tenure.

FatherScott:  None of us are stupid enough to think that you're going anywhere...we all know your family a little too well to be that naive.  But, that said, we're all chipping in.

SundayAfternoonNapScott:  This really seems a bit harsh.

LethargicScott:  You're tellin' me. 

Whole room begins to buzz with hostility and defensiveness...fingers are pointed at FatherScott.

FatherScott:  Oh...I'm sorry...I nearly forgot.  Here.

FatherScott produces two pictures; one of his pregnant wife, the other the ultrasound of his son.  The room falls silent.

PastorScott (smiling):  O.K...let's get to work.  I think it's time somebody else organized the CROP Walk anyway...

HomeOwnerScott:  Got the painting done already.  

StayInShapeScott:  Haven't shot hoops in a while...anybody got a ball?

MovieScott:  As long as Barney isn't involved, I'll be OK.

FatherScott slowly and quietly leaves the room...leaving the pictures behind.  He slowly shuts the door behind him.

FatherScott:  See you in May.  Buckle up.

END