I used to do this a lot in high school. I'd flunk a test and come back the next day with a thirty page radio script. I am not an unintelligent person, but I'm often flustered by academics. The constant barrage of Things I Have To Do makes me nervous. Sometimes the only way I can feel like I have control over the things around me is to waste valuable time throwing all my energy into something that, ultimately, has nothing to do with anything.
Case in point, the following:
I was in the library with my friend, Jackie. The two of us met last year when I moved into the dorm room next to hers. I once woke her up at two in the morning to ask her to name a fake game show. At the time, she barely knew my name. Somehow, we became close.
Anyway. We were there. She was working diligently on something computer science related that I am, in no way, qualified to describe. I had several thousand things due in a variety of subjects including Spanish, mysticism, and science fiction, and was steadfastly refusing to do any of them. I was bored. I tapped my pen restlessly on the desk. I fiddled with my hair. I tried to summon from deep within me the motivation to be productive. I pulled out a notebook.
I sighed.
"What should I write about?" I asked.
Jackie looked up. She raised an eyebrow. I braced myself for a "don't you have work to do?" response. I should have known better. Jackie, being Jackie, did not question my intent. She thought for a moment, half her mind still clearly swimming in numbers, and eventually, delivered the following prompt:
A conflict between two female characters - JEAN-BOB and MRS. DARCY - containing the following things:
1.) A used tampon.
2.) A slug.
3.) Prune juice with hibiscus.
4.) Venezuela
5.) King penguins.
In addition, someone must say the following phrases:
1.) "You resemble a beluga whale."
2.) "Oh, whoa is me!"
3.) "Why is that chair on the table?"
4.) "That chair is sexy."
I have been told that, were I to peek into Jackie's mind at the exact moment of this discussion, all of these things would make complete sense in relation to each other. I have concluded that studying computer science does strange things to one's mind.
Regardless, by the end of the evening, I had, in fact, complete the prompt.
And so, I give you, A Thing I Wrote While I Should Have Been Doing Other Things.
INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY
JEAN-BOB, 19, is working the register alone at an otherwise empty shop. She is preoccupied, staring into the distance in a way that suggest this is her default state of being.
The door opens. In walks MRS. DARCY, 50's, in a rush. She hands over her credit card immediately.
MRS. DARCY
Caramel machiado. Large.
JEAN-BOB
That chair is so sexy.
MRS. DARCY
I'm sorry?
JEAN-BOB
That chair. The one over in the corner by the ironic, but stylish picture of a slug. In comparison to the slug, it's the most attractive thing in the room.
MRS. DARCY
Why is it on the table?
JEAN-BOB
The slug?
MRS. DARCY
The chair. Why is the chair on the table? You're open, aren't you?
JEAN-BOB
That depends on your definition of "open".
MRS. DARCY
Should I go somewhere else -
JEAN-BOB
If you define "open" as "We have a great abundance of prune juice with a vague hint of hibiscus" then no, we are not, in fact, open.
MRS. DARCY
I see -
JEAN-BOB
But, if you define "open" as "We are currently operating and are thus ready to accept your order of a highly caffeinated, most likely unhealthy beverage" then yes, we are open.
MRS. DARCY
What is your name?
JEAN-BOB
Jean-Bob.
MRS. DARCY
Jean-Bob?
JEAN-BOB
Jean-Bob.
MRS. DARCY
I see. Jean-Bob, if you would like to continue to be employed, I suggest you turn around and begin making a large caramel machiado, which, if you'll recall, is what I ordered when I came in.
JEAN-BOB
You know, you resemble a beluga whale.
MRS. DARCY
Excuse me?
JEAN-BOB
Or, at least, you would, if you accepted the world around you.
MRS. DARCY
What?
JEAN-BOB
I'm troubled.
MRS. DARCY
So am I.
JEAN-BOB
I'm starting to think that reality, as we know it, is a dying construct.
MRS. DARCY
Can it be a construct with coffee?
JEAN-BOB
Have you ever considered it...Mrs. Darcy?
MRS. DARCY
How did you know my name?
JEAN-BOB
It's on your credit card.
MRS. DARCY
Oh.
JEAN-BOB
But, have you ever considered it? Have you ever stopped and stared at the reality that we inhabit and imagined it crumbling to the ground that only may or may not exist?
MRS. DARCY
If I say yes, will you get me my coffee?
JEAN-BOB
We are human. Theoretically. We know that we are human only because we are not any other species on Earth, like beluga whales or king penguins, and human is simply the only option left. We, in particular, Mrs. Darcy, are women. Made of X chromosomes and used tampons.
MRS. DARCY
I don't need this.
JEAN-BOB
But I am troubled by the deep, ever present knowledge that at any moment, these facts might cease to be facts, and we may find ourselves adrift in a desert of nonsense and chaos.
MRS. DARCY
Oh, woe is you.
JEAN-BOB
Oh, woe is me! Oh, woe are us. We. You and I, and this cafe that is not a cafe. Woe to those who are secure with what they believe to be their permanent location in space!
MRS. DARCY
I'm leaving.
JEAN-BOB
But where are you leaving from?
MRS. DARCY
Here.
JEAN-BOB
But what is "here"?
MRS. DARCY
I don't care.
JEAN-BOB
That's good!
MRS. DARCY
I'm going to Starbucks.
The door opens. She exits. A moment passes. The door opens again, and Mrs. Darcy re-enters. Jean-Bob just smiles.
MRS. DARCY
Um.
JEAN-BOB
Hello, again.
MRS. DARCY
It's Venezuela out there.
JEAN-BOB
Indeed, it is.
MRS. DARCY
But, we're in New York.
JEAN-BOB
We're not anymore.
MRS. DARCY
But...will we go back?
JEAN-BOB
Maybe.
MRS. DARCY
I have to go to work.
JEAN-BOB
You don't have to do anything. There is no permanent reality.
MRS. DARCY
Right.
JEAN-BOB
Caramel machiado?
MRS. DARCY
Uh, yes. Large.
JEAN-BOB
Coming right up.
MRS. DARCY
Thank you.
She sits down at the counter. She glances around.
MRS. DARCY
You know something?
JEAN-BOB
What?
MRS. DARCY
That chair is sexy.
JEAN-BOB
I know, right?
Jean-Bob gives her a coffee. They smile, content, and glance out the window at the Venezuelan street outside.
THE END
So, were those two hours productive? Not really. Were they fun? Yes. Does that make it worth it? I don't know. But, here it is.
I think I might go grab some coffee.
