Three

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A cafe. A couple sits at a table.
W: But that’s just it—how can we break away from what’s established if we don’t undermine the powers that teach?
M: But to what end?
W: We’re looking for a beginning not an end.
M: We can’t bite the hand that feeds. It isn’t right.
W: I’m curious as to what you think. I’m curious to hear how you’re mind works.
M: We must bolster the one’s in power.
W: I hear what you’re saying.
M: Engage them in conversation.
W: Which is what we want to do.
M: Not ensnare them in a trap. This isn’t a revenge.
W: I hope you don’t see it that way. That would hurt my feelings if you saw it that way. Do you see it that way?
M: I know we’re going to fix our little planet through these talks. These talks—through enlightening one another. Engaging in dialogue. Accepting the ideas passed down, and being expansive with them.
They notice a Writer at the table next to them. Writer is writing.
M: Has he?
W: Wow.
M: This whole time?
W: It’s insulting. It’s bold, and I respect it on that level.
M: Though on another level, it’s—
W: Yeah.
M: I feel a sense of betrayal.
W: This was not me.
M: I do not doubt you.
W: You look like you’re doubting me.
M: I do not doubt.
W: You sound like you’re doubting me.
M: I have suspicion.
W: He is tearing us apart.
M: And what will you do with that, yes?
Pause.
W: And he ignores.
M: I will not be ignored.
W: My school is a name.
M: My family is a name.
W: Not all names are equal.
M: And what will you do with that, yes?
Pause.
Writer: Are you speaking to me?
M:Ohh. Be careful, now. After all, he’s a writer. He may write us down. Hold the mirror up to nature, as they say.
W: Hamlet. Act III
M: Scene ii.
W: Don’t hurt us with your words, writer. We crawl underneath you.
Writer: Do I know either of you?
W: Do you realize we are at a cafe, and it’s common—
M: Sure.
W: Very common. To have a bag, nap sack, satchel.
M: Suitcase.
W: Near your feet; but three bags of luggage?
M: I want to laugh, but I know it will turn into crying.
W: And what will you do with that, yes?
M: Traveling alone?
M: He’s lonely.
W: Definitely.
M: Probably no children.
W: Or, want them.
M: Or, believe in them.
W: ‘Children do not exist.’ ‘They are annals of a dystopian society,’ right? Something like that?
Writer: Are you quoting what you think I say? I’m not—
M: Or, he does.
W: Does, and he’s abandoned them.
M: Hey! Now we’re writers.
W: Maybe I’ll put my date on hold—
M: I’m her date.
W: Maybe, although it’s going really well, stop my date and write about you. Write a little monologue about you …”To be, or not to be…I’m an asshole.”
M: Act III
W: Scene i.
M: You made that up, yes?
W: Yes.
M: You are a writer.
W: I want you to kiss me later.
M: I will.
W: I want you to hurt me.
M: I can do that.
W: Though I have always wanted to be a writer. (to Writer) Give me your notebook?
Writer: Please leave me alone. I am not writing about you.
M: You’re what’s wrong with this country.
W: I couldn’t even begin to get into you’re disease of what is killing this country—I am on a date!
M: And it’s going very well.
W: It’s not even date three—and I’m thinking about bringing out the kitty.
Writer: You both dress very differently than the way you speak.
M: Sorry?
W: Did you disrespect him?
M: Did you disrespect me?
W: What does that even mean? We dress—
M: Differently than we speak?
W: I’m not even sure what you’re insulting. Pig.
M: Elephant.
W: You squelch my creativity.
M: Oppressor.
W: Now, I’ll never be a writer. And it was not my mother’s fault; it was yours.
Writer: I’m so uncomfortable—that I’m putting money down on this table, and leaving. I haven’t even eaten, my food.
Writer exits.
W: To be completely honest this date is mediocre.
M: I wasn’t considering it a date—and I’m hoping you pay.

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