ACT ONE
THUS SPAKE

From black the stage is suddenly lit to blue. A fog drift across the stage. A few Autumn leaves skirt across it.

2019. Burlington, Connecticut. MICHAEL, early twenties, male. He is jogging (in place) in grey sweats, beanie, headphones.

He listens to his podcast. The audience hears it.

BOE MORGUN. Buck was dead. Gasping for air. Thing to do was to give him another shot.

JACK WILLCOX. Not a light moment.

BOE MORGUN. Heavy. We all took off our hats, prayed, praised him. We hunters got together and said, ‘Thank you,’ to the elk. Bowed our heads. The guides, and they’ve been doing this for a while, a sort of tradition for them, they took the nearby grasses, made a ball of it, placed it in the mouth of the elk carcass. As an offering, as a thank you.

JACK WILLCOX. The bull’s last meal.

BOE MORGUN. Yeah…

JACK WILLCOX. Heavy.

BOE MORGUN. Sure is.

The stage goes quiet. MICHAEL’s blue fades to black.

The stage is lit with a spotlight of yellow.

JACK, early twenties, sits at a desk behind a desktop computer. He opens up a large canned beverage––an energy drink. His keyboard keys start clacking.

JACK. So, you know… yeah. Just been doing that, you know?

He takes a sip of his drink.

Pause.

Uh, Dr. Alloway, you there?

DR. ALLOWAY. I’m here, Jack. I do need you to start coming into my office for counseling. It is wonderful progress that you are willing to talk, but we can only make so much progress over the phone. We really need to resume our face-to-face sessions.

JACK stops typing.

JACK. Oh, yeah, I know. I know.

DR. ALLOWAY. Okay, well, our time today is running to a close.

JACK. Yeah.

Pause.

JACK. I’ll… I’ll be there next week.

DR. ALLOWAY. That is great to hear. Tuesday at five, then?

JACK. Yeah.

As JACK starts typing.

DR. ALLOWAY. Is there anything you would like to talk about briefly?

JACK. sighs.

A forum messenger dings.

DR. ALLOWAY. Jack?

JACK. No, I think that’s all.

DR. ALLOWAY. Any job interviews in the foreseeable future?

JACK. Got one at the grocer Thursday.

DR. ALLOWAY. Excellent. Well, best of luck!

JACK. Thanks, Dr. Alloway. Bye.

DR. ALLOWAY. Bye, Jack.

JACK grabs a vape from his pocket. Exhales a large cumulus cloud of smoke. He opens his drawer and pulls out a gun and a cloth and oil. He speaks to himself as he begins to clean the weapon. He quotes his favorite movie.

JACK. One shot, one shot, one shot! “How does it feel to be shot? How does it feel to be shot? Don’t hurt.” It don’t hurt none! If that’s what you wanna know.

 

By Rhys Higgins