Reason For Leaving #2.Testing Day: A Farce

 Characters: 

        TEACHER any gender, aged north of 40.

KEVIN (junior) Hispanic, smaller in stature. Big smile, quiet and moves with quiet stealth.

CAMILA (soph)-an islander, a lot of hair, huge smile and large personality. Friendly

TATUM (soph) ,POC and wearing a school football jersey. The comedian in all his other classes, but not so much in theatre.

AUTUMN (soph), male identifying female but not doing a great job at it honestly. He's wearing a dress but his hair is long and unkept and is wearing high top shoes. Most kids refer to Autumn as "they" and they are deeply figuring out who they are with clear parental and peer support.

ROBERTO-wears an N95 mask, gloves and goggles. He is likely Hispanic, but is covered in so much protective gear it's hard to know. Likely autistic

FEMALE VOICE ON ANNOUNCEMENTS

MALE VOICE ON ANNOUNCEMENTS

ADMIN this can be male or female, honestly. Small, mouselike but a bark like a chihuahua. Very high strung, a good comparison is Barney Fife from Mayberry. Someone who was not cut out for teaching so went into admin and is cracking under the pressure.

    

    At Rise A high school classroom is revealed. The door is UR and the teacher's desk L, everything on an angle. There aren't desks, there are tables and chairs with a small stage set DC--this is clearly a theatre classroom. It is empty. The clock on the wall reads 7 am. There is a calendar or the date written on a white board SL: WEDS 16 APRIL 2023

ROBERTO enters wearing both an N95 mask and paper mask, swim goggles and gloves. He walks to his seat and sits quietly, hands folded on the table in front of him. Beat.

Four other students enter one by one and take their seats. They are in varying degrees of different weather clothing, so the time of year is not easily defined: shorts, long puffy coat, fall colors, crocs and Uggs, etc. Race is variable but should be mixed (ideally as above), as are genders. They represent all kids, every day, all of the time.

The Bell rings.

MALE VOICE announcement, intercom clicks on:

Students, that is the first warning bell. Today’s special schedule includes the PSAT for sophomores, MAP testing for freshmen and a mandatory senior graduation meeting. Please get into your class year google classroom for the specific schedule assignments. Intercom clicks off.

FEMALE VOICE announcement-intercom clicks back on : 

Students, that was the second warning bell. BELL CUTS HER OFF. Reminder to check the West Commons for postings of your classroom location, or the East Commons for your assignments. Special Ed is meeting in the choir room. Juniors, you do not have any reason to be here today so you should not be here. Thank you.

                    TEACHER

Enters wearing a hat and looks at the five students. Good morning—wait. What’re ya doing guys? It’s PSAT. You’re supposed to be in your PSAT rooms. No classes today. Removes hat.

TATUM

          You’re here.

TEACHER

          Thank you Captain Obvious.

  ROBERTO

It’s her job. She has to be here. She’s contracted.

TEACHER

Roberto, it’s 85 degrees out and 2023, you can take it off, dude. 

ROBERTO

It’s hot in here.

TEACHER

Take it off, I promise the temperature will drop.How do you breathe?

                TATUM

Don’t yell at him just because you have to be here.

            CAMiLA

              That’s racist.

        TEACHER

You do not have to be here unless you are testing, and if you are testing you are in the wrong room. My classroom is not a testing room. So. Your turn: Why are you here?

             AUTUMN

My dad dropped me off. We don’t have school today? I didn’t get an email. We don’t have to be here?

             CAMILA

No, she has to be here she’s the teacher. She has to be here.

             ROBERTO

We’re here for testing, there are no classes.

             TEACHER

You do not have to be here, that is my point. There was a robo text, a post on your sophomore class google classroom, two robo calls, an email, a letter mailed to your home address, information posted on the website and on daily announcements, posters in the halls, classroom assignments posted in the east and west commons and cafeteria, and the sign out front says PSAT TESTING NO CLASSES TODAY. If you are not testing, you do not have to be here. If you are testing, you need to go find your room.

    FEMALE VOICE 

        Intercom clicks on.

Reminder, football practice for all grades is today from 9 am until 11 am on the field. All students playing football should attend practice.

        AUTUMN

Don’t you have an assigned room. Don’t you have to Prostate or something?

        TEACHER

Not today, I am a backup PROCTOR tomorrow. Today I’m planning. Go home. Places hat on head.

            MALE VOICE

Intercom clicks off, then on.

Students, regardless of your team status with football, all  sophomores should be in PSAT testing, freshmen should be in MAP testing and seniors are in their senior meeting beginning at eight am. If you are a junior and can hear this announcement, you should go home unless you are on the football team, which meets at 9 am on the field.

        CAMILA

My mom dropped me off. We didn’t know it was testing today. You guys are the worst at communicating.

        TEACHER

 Google classroom, emails, robo calls, robo texts, and the flashing neon sign on the front of the building. It’s not that admin did not communicate, it’s that you do not read.

FEMALE VOICE

Intercom. Click.

Football practice is at 8 am on the field for juniors only.

    CAMILA

That’s racist. I’m telling my counselor you’re racist.

    MALE VOICE

Intercom. Click.

Juniors, you should not be in the building. Unless you are a football player, then you should be on the field. But not until 9 am. It is now seven fifteen am. So leave and come back.

TEACHER

Cool. Go. Go to counseling now. The counselors are in testing, but the secretary is there. You can talk to her. She’s nice.

TATUM

My counselor won’t see me unless I send an email first. Let me send an email and see if she can see me.

TEACHER

She can’t, she’s in testing. Counselors run testing. Removes hat.

TATUM

Ya now, but she can answer my email and see me tomorrow. Racist.

TEACHER

She can’t answer you, she’s in testing. She’s proctoring a test. She does not have her laptop.

CAMILA

She can answer an email from her phone.

The bell rings twice.

FEMALE VOICE

We are adjusting the special schedule bell schedule, ignore the bells. Thank you.

TEACHER

Oh my dear God….looks at a list on her laptop. Roberto, you’re supposed to be upstairs. You have five minutes to get to your PSAT. You signed up. Roberto stands silently but does not exit. You–she points to AUTUMN- upstairs, 2010, lang arts room, go. You signed up. Go take the test. Places hat on head. AUTUMN exits.

FEMALE VOICE

The yellow zone is for loading and unloading only…

TATUM

My dad says it’s racist. I don’t have to take it.

TEACHER

It’s good practice for next year when you take the SAT. Looks at list and you signed up, Camila, go. Places hat on desk. Stares at it.

CAMILA

Why would I take the SAT? I do not remember signing up.

ROBERTO removes a carrot from his backpack.

KEVIN

        Is that a turnip?

ROBERTO

  Yes.

      TEACHER

To go to college. You take the practice test so you can succeed at the real test and go to college. Roberto—go. Roberto exits slowly.

KEVIN

So I can go to college like you and work in a looney bin?

  CAMILA

I’m going to college for art, I don’t need the SAT. Besides, it’s racist. Also I didn’t ask for your help. 

TEACHER

  Racist against whom?

ALL STUDENTS

    Me.

TEACHER

  How?

CAMILA

I’m an Islander. The literature they use is by white guys.

The fire alarm lights go off and an automated voice begins:

AUTOMATED VOICE

 There is a fire detected in  the building. Please exit the building calmly. There is a fire—-it is abruptly shut off. Beat. There is another bell.

FEMALE  VOICE

Intercom clicks.

The new fire alarms are being tested please excuse—a bell cuts her off.

MALE VOICE

The  intercom  does not click.

Juniors, if you are in the building and can hear my voice, you are wrong. Go home.

Intercom click.

TEACHER

How do you know the test is  racist if you’ve never taken it?

AUTUMN  re entering.

    My uncle told me.

TEACHER

Ok. So go upstairs and check in please. I’ll get in trouble if you stay here. CAMILA exits.

AUTUMN

No you won’t, nobody cares. Nobody knows I’m here. My people are invisible.

TEACHER

      Go.

AUTUMN

Sheesh ya don’t gotta be mean about it. Picks up backpack in a huff and puts phone to their  ear Ya, there’s no class, can you come pick me up? It’s the blue zone, pick me up in the blue zone.

FEMALE VOICE

The blue zone is for unloading only. Loading is in the yellow zone.

TEACHER

I don’t see the rest of you  listed. Guys, I have to work. You can’t be in the building if you aren’t testing.. Please call your mom or drive home or fly or walk or skip or beam up. You Can’t Stay Here. Looks at  Kevin. Kevin, you’re a junior.  You’re killing me, Smalls, go home.

KEVIN

My name is not Smalls, Miss, why are you always saying that to me? Do you not know my name? Kevin exits.

ADMIN 

Enters the room with a box and a chair.

      What are you doing?

TEACHER

Playing tiddlywinks over a manhole cover.

ADMIN

You’re supposed to be backup proctoring.

TEACHER

      Fireman. Coconut.

ADMIN

You’re supposed to be backup proctoring.

TEACHER

No, that’s tomorrow. The spreadsheet you sent yesterday states Thursday,  17 April Thursday. Holds up the laptop. Today is Wednesday, 16 April. Wednesday I am planning. Thursday, I am backup proctor.

ADMIN

We changed it yesterday at 3.30 pm. It was in the email I sent this morning embedded in the slide deck from the last faculty meeting, it was changed. It’s embedded in the slide deck, right there in the email. You people don’t read, you’re supposed to be backup right now, right now…

TEACHER

I’m sure Roger will be fine until I get there, he’s done this 25 times. I’m not really needed until he has to pee.

ADMIN

Roger is in 1111, you’re not with Roger you’re with Rogers. 

TEACHER looks at spreadsheet on laptop.

Roger Danvers 1111. She shows him the spreadsheet. Who is Rogers?

ADMIN

One of the new math teachers. Daniel Rogers 1211.

TEACHER

But is says “ Danvers, Roger 1111”.

ADMIN

That’s the first draft from two weeks ago before we hired Rogers. 

TEACHER

Regardless, today is Wednesday and I’m listed on the spreadsheet for Thursday.

ADMIN

That’s the spreadsheet from yesterday at 9 am, it was updated at 3.30pm. You are backup proctoring today.

TEACHER

Okay, okay, I’ll go down and check on him.

ADMIN

You are to be stationed outside of his room. You can bring your work but you can’t leave.

TEACHER

Since when? I’ve been backup proctoring these things for 20 years; I check in every hour,they go for a walk, stretch, return, we’re good. Later, rinse, repeat. See the definition of “backup” in the SAT proctor guide.

         ADMIN

The plan since last year, which nobody noted, is embedded in the email embedded in the faculty slide deck dated 2/05/2022 that-this year, 2023, it is now 2023- we were changing to this new model. You must sit outside his room. She rolls her eyes. Just because things were the way they were doesn’t mean they were done correctly. We changed it. 

         FEMALE VOICE

                    Intercom clicks on, then off, then on.

Students, sorry for the interruption. You should be in your posted classes for the PSAT, MAP testing or senior meeting. Special Ed is in the auditorium. Freshmen assignments are posted in the West Commons, Sophomores are posted in the East commons. Seniors, you are in the auditorium, Intercom loudly Clicks off…clicks back on. Wait. Seniors are in the auditorium, Special Ed are in the cafeteria. Juniors, go home, there is nothing for you here .

TEACHER

  Why?

MALE VOICE

Intercom click click click  click

 Football players, you should be in your testing rooms or at the senior meeting, unless you are a junior. In which case  you can’t hear me because you should not be here.intercom snaps off louder than before.

ADMIN

In case he needs backup. That is why you are backup.

TEACHER

What kind of backup can I provide by sitting outside the entire time that cannot be requested when I stop in every hour, as I have for twenty years.

FEMALE VOICE

Carl, if you’re in the building please see J in the auditorium.

ADMIN

Are you going or am I explaining my extensive email?

TEACHER

This makes no sense at all. What am I stationed as backup outside the room for? There are counselors floating in every hall, math teachers with calculators and security escorting kids who are wandering. Why do I need to sit there for three hours?

         ADMIN

         Because we decided it’s best for security.

    MALE VOICE

Security and campus monitors, please remember to pick up your walkie talkie in the front office. Carl, I’m talking to you, where are you? We need you in the 1100’s, we have free range juniors and lost seniors. Please see J in the counseling office, or come by the main office to get your walkie talkie. Juniors, why are you here, please go home.

         TEACHER

Excuse me? Do I get a bulletproof vest or something? Whaddya mean “security”. For whom?

         KEVIN 

 Walks back into the room, sits down backpack

 I’m waiting for my ride.

         ADMIN

You, as department chair, are expected to have read the email thoroughly.

         TEACHER

The one you sent yesterday after school. That email.

         KEVIN

Stands up and leaves the room, leaving his backpack behind.

         ADMIN

It is your job to stay connected and to communicate to your colleagues. He exits with his chair and box.

         TEACHER

Yelling after him. GIve me a minute to go tell them to locate the embedded embedded updated resent email in the  slide deck, yesterday is irrelevant, the past has been erased and the moment is absurd. So. I will walk to my colleagues and relay the new information. Turns back into the room. And then we’re leaving. Is there a bar open?

As she exits, Roberto returns to the classroom wordlessly. She just looks at him and shrugs. 

    ROBERTO

They said I have two minutes before the test starts. So I’m going to sit here for two minutes. It’s hot in there.

         TEACHER

Take if off Roberto, the temperature will drop. I promise.

Roberto takes off his watch, sets a timer for two minutes, and sits with his hands crossed on the table in front of him. Teacher exits. The intercom clicks, nobody speaks. The bell rings.

SCENE

Day 11

 

    And here we are. 

    I have missed the last day of school, check out, my anniversary, Memorial Day weekend, 2,000 hours of sleep and my yearly ritual of cleaning so I can begin summer.

    It's Tuesday, 30 May. 

    I am not getting better. In some moments, I'm getting worse, but "better" is a kid with a dripping ice cream cone just out of reach of me, clawing my way out of the sewer. I feel "better" so I drive to school to complete my checkout, which I promised to do when I did not go back last week. I have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. I almost wrecked my car twice en route due to a coughing fit followed by a moment of grey out. Done out of responsibility because I said I would. I am NOT that important, and neither are my keys or badge. Yet there I was, obediently following through as I said I was like every fucking hateful white Christian girl ever.

    So I got to the school and pretty much threw my keys and badge because I'm coming back next year, WHY DO I HAVE TO TURN THIS STUFF IN IT'S STUPID?!!!! They literally couldn't wait.

    We've entered anger. I am pissed AF that I am this sick. I am always sick at the end of the school year, that's enough to make me grumpy. Last year I actually got Covid, interrupting TWO rehearsals I had going on as well as the end of the year at school.

    What's particularly unnerving, is that I've had Covid twice in 12 months, and now this...unidentified, unending "bronchial virus" that waxes and wanes with sinus and ear pressure. The crazy pained abs are expected with this cough, but I have coughed/choked so intensely that twice this week I almost lost consciousness.

    Watching Breaking Bad was fun, but with the sinus issue The Meg is a better choice. Underwater. Can't hear anything, anyway.

    And I have laryngitis. I cannot speak. I can squeak. I can rasp. 

    Really?

    So I'm mad.

    Let's see what tomorrow brings.

Bronchial Viruses Are Fun Because...

 

        You have been coughing non stop for two days. You are a female who has given birth, you are north of 55 years old and running out of laundry. You sat in your car the afternoon before so you wouldn't disturb the house hold-which is your husband, three dogs and a cat- with your massive, relentless coughing. It comes out of nowhere without warning, and does not stop. It feels like there's a tickle in your throat that you're trying to work out, but there is not. You know this because you have coughed hard enough to throw up several times and it does not abate.

    You wonder if your eyeballs are going pop out.

    You cannot control your bladder.

    This is the most embarrassing part that you will do anything to hide from your loving partner of 34 years. As you've not had a period in a year, there are no products in your house, and you are not Door Dashing Depends.

    So you hide in your car, in your driveway, under the guise of "disturbing the household" .You order Door Dash Delsyum because you can't go to the grocery store, even though you are in your car. You would find this hilarious if you could stop coughing.

    An hour into your driveway adventure, and half an hour after videotaping the door dasher bringing cough medicine to you in your car to amuse your friend, you fall asleep. Until you start coughing again. You realize this is more than a polite Poise moment, and the Depends would be best for the deluge. Without them, a towel will have to suffice. 

    Day 3

    You feel good-ish for a minute and realize the dog and cat fur are not helping. You can't move much without coughing, but you must do something about the cat box. It is also not helping. In a show of superhuman strength against increasingly sore abdominal muscles,you pick it up, haul it down the stairs inducing another coughing fit, hope you fall down the stairs and die because death is easy. You do not fall, so you continue to the driveway. Now. You are coughing so hard you cannot breathe. Even if you could, you lost your voice two days ago. You are in what remains of sweats and a t shirt you've had on for a day.

    You smell.

    As you are hacking and dumping the cat box into your trash can at the top of your driveway, two handsome young men with clipboards begin to walk toward you.

    This is one of many times in your life you wonder when we stopped "reading the room".

    "Are you the homeowner?" He asks with a smile.

    You are too sick to be clever, you're just annoyed. "Yes, and I'm sick as fuck so back off friend." Your voice sounds like it's coming through a garbage disposal direct from hell.

    Seemingly surprised that you are not at your Sunday best, his smile falters only a moment and he continues to move toward you. "Yes, I hear it in your voice."

    You shake your head in disbelief and wave him off. The energy you had to muster to speak plus the litter dust has now taken you out of any possible human interaction. You look at the young man and see fear in his eye as he backs off. Took him long enough. You start coughing again as you go back inside, the kind of cough that shatters ears and rattles ancestors.     

    First your ribs hurt a bit, then your stomach, then you wake yourself coughing at a strange angle and are sure something snapped in your sternum.

    Day four.

    Three Covid tests say you do not have Covid. The fog horn tone of your thrashed voice makes you conclude it's bronchitis. As you are not a medical doctor, but have diagnosed yourself and your children correctly many times, you know you have bronchitis.

    While changing the sheets, you note blood on your pillow case. Something triggers in your dehydrated brain and your remember you had a bloody nose with this "bronchial virus" a few days ago.

    It has now been five days. Time has no meaning.

    The petulant child doctor at urgent care insists it's a virus, not bronchitis, so no antibiotics. No treatment other than steroids, cough medicine and "hydrate". Which the male child doctor shows no hint of understanding that is not going happen. It's now been five days and you are out of laundry, and cannot go to the store for any reinforcements without frightening the patrons with your Vincent D'Onofrio Men in Black impression and you fear the lovely King Soopers woman who mops the floor will have to follow you.

    Sometime between coughing and peeing and sleeping, in the worst of it, you text your friends a photo of you singing at Red Rocks in 1983 for graduation. You write "In case I die today, here is proof I sang at Red Rocks." They reply:

    S: Don't die. I've got a full day.

    E:Your death is important to us. Please stay on the line...

    You are not a pleasant sick person. You can only be a victim for so long before you become angry. Day five is the day this happens. You look back on how you growled at the young man on day two and realize you were also angry then, but that's on him. Read the room, dude. The only solution is to build a fort in the bedroom and hide. But the dogs think it's a game and make you angry. So you have to punch them. Read the room, buddy. 

    The dogs think it's a jumping punching game, so now you've no choice but to put them outside and hope they run away.

    You sleep for twelve more days, and when you get up it's only been seven days since this nightmare began and the dogs are back.

    You've not had a period for a year, but apparently one can cough oneself backwards, out of menopause. Neat. Still no products for either issue. But a fun footnote.

    You woke up coughing after foolishly believing you could sleep on your stomach for the first time this century, only to definitely pull your sternum away from your body, which is not good and it upset the dog who is now whining. God you hate that dog.

    Your husband wakes up with a cough on day eight and you think, glory, we can be sick together! And on our anniversary, how fortuitous. He sleeps in for two hours and gets up just fine, mows the lawn, washes the cars. It's fine, he's fine. He kicked it. Happy anniversary.

    That night, you are cloistered in the bathroom at two a.m. not coughing so much as choking and gagging and gasping for air.  The hot shower is of little comfort. You think "This is how I die" and lie down on the shower floor.

    There remains no choice but to request bladder control products from the "Dear God I'm 80" section of the grocery store. However, you cannot go yourself, you cannot ask your husband and you cannot Door Dash because that's more humiliating than asking the man you've been married to for 34 years. And somehow more humiliating than coughing up your lungs inside your car, parked in your own driveway, sitting on a towel accepting  Door Dash Delsym through the window. And so concludes the concept of that "choice".

    It is day eight. There will not be a day nine.

Things I Learned By Subbing In My Building

 

    I have to run kids out of the performing arts hallway constantly. I assumed it was because we have nooks and crannies, and the guitar and piano kids let their friends in the farcical number of doors we have. After subbing, I realize kids do that everywhere in the building. They hide in doorways and bathrooms.

    I now know why we have no attendance at our performing arts events. They're not coming to class in general, and can't still still/stay off their phones when they do.

    Kids in science and math have everything on google classroom. They aren't doing it.

    First period kids aren't coming to class.

    Sheltered classes don't respond to subs, or do their work, or seem to care about much outside of sleeping, listening to music or snacking. 

     The freshmen are really terrible. As a group. Terrible.

     Nobody has their classroom bathroom pass any more. We've all had them stolen or lost so many times we've stopped asking for replacements.

     Performing Arts classes are being used as a dumping ground. These kids don't want to be in school, period; I'm seeing them---or not seeing them---in other classes, checked out, doing nothing.

    IB science kids don't work much, either, but they're quiet and respectful and work a little bit.

    The blank stares are building wide. The lethargy, lack of engagement and seeming loss of hope.

    Two boys are taping their sleeping friend's hat to his head.

    You could argue this is what they do for subs, it's just 'cause you're subbing, but when I have a sub, I leave instructions for them to Do Things Live in class, and most of them do it. Most of them. Not all. The Usual Suspects Who Do Not Care are immovable.

    Most kids are polite about being dicks. They ask to to go the bathroom and do not return. They quietly Do Not work. But they're nice about it. That's the title of my autobiography The Kids Are Polite About Being Dicks.

Father 's Day A Short Play

    The setting is the interior of a two story house, deliberately made to look like a "converted posset mill", or other farce inspired interior. In that vein, there are four doors upstairs and four doors downstairs, SR that leads to the kitchen and through to a wrap around deck outside. This is a nice, Colorado home with delightful outdoor living space that we never see in the play.

    Sun is shining through the windows, BEA is descending the stairs. She is a woman (or man identifying as a women, or a drag queen) in her mid fifties. She is carrying a large, blue and orange glass peacock. Frank is never seen, only heard from the deck where he is grilling.

                                                   BEA

               Frank , this was from Eric, right? He's coming over I should put it out. She holds it aloft. FRANK is not on stage and clearly cannot see what she is holding, but she pretends that he can.

                                                  FRANK

        Voice from off  No, that was a white elephant three Christmases ago. You stole it from your sister at the end of the night.

                                                BEA

                                Why would I do that?

                                                FRANK voice

                                You liked it.

                                                BEA

           Bea turns the peacock over in her hands. Why? turns it upside down. Oh I see now.             Ok I think I'll still put it out. As she reaches the bottom stair, the door opens and her           son ERIC  enters. He is in full drag and is stunning, this is not a gag. He is a                     professional. He has a full mustache and beard that are trimmed to perfection, and                 long strawberry blonde hair. 

                                                ERIC

                    Happy Mother's Day! He crosses to kiss her cheek.

                                                BEA

                                 It's father's day.

                                                ERIC

                    Of course it is. Yelling toward the deck Happy Father's Day Dad!

                                            FRANK

                                    Thank you!    

                                               ERIC

                                    What time is my sister expected.

                                                BEA

                            They should be here shortly.

                                                    ERIC

                  SHE should be here shortly. Why do you enable that? She's female.

                                                      BEA

                        Pauses and stares at Eric in a dress and makeup.

                                I dunno. Maybe I like them better.

                                                ERIC

                            Whatever who cares. Hands Bea a wrapped gift. Happy Birthday.

                                        BEA handing him the peacock .

                                    Merry Christmas.

                                        KAYLEN enters, yelling to the back deck.

                                HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!

                                        FRANK

                                    Thank you, Sweetie

               KAYLEN hands BEA a wrapped gift, identical in size to the one ERIC                             has given her.

             ERIC takes both gifts from BEA and puts them on the coffee table.

                                            ERIC

                            It's father's day, lameo, not his birthday.

                                            KAYLEN

   So you confiscated his gift because it's not the right day? I can give dad a present whenever I want: he's my dad. Yelling to the deck Dad, I gave mom your gift but Eric put it on the coffee table. Just so you know.

                                                BEA

                        He doesn't care. Wine? she crosses to the kitchen

                                            KAYLEN

  I have a great new drink recipe, it's called the Bees Knees. We have gin and lemon juice, right? I had it at the distillery in Lakewood, they brew their own gin.

                                                ERIC

                            Hence the title "Distillery", where they distill, not brew.

                                            FRANK voice from 

                            Don't bait your sibling, Eric.

                                            ERIC yelling

                            She's my sister dad, why do you enable her?

                                               BEA

        Stop it. Ok. I asked everyone over so I could tell you something.

                                                ERIC

                                    It's fathers day.

                                            KAYLEN

                            Why is it about you?

                                                BEA

        It's never about me. The only way to get you here was to dangle a holiday under your noses.

                                                ERIC

                                                Rude.

                                                BEA

        I'm retiring. I quit. I am going to live out the rest of my time here in the house with your father, doing whatever.

                                                FRANK

                I'm not retiring, I'll be at work, Bea. We talked about this.

                                                BEA

            I will be alone in this house, living out the rest of my life doing whatever, alone, while your father grills brats in perpetuity on the deck.

                                                FRANK

    I like my deck. I paid a lot of money to have this built the way I wanted it built. 

                                                KAYLEN

     Leave him alone, mom, he likes his deck. Let him live out there if he wants.

                                                BEA

    I was not suggesting...I don't care if he moves out there, it's not the point, why is everything a fight with you.

                                                ERIC

                    K. Neat. Stop. So why'd you need to tell us in person?

                                                BEA

                Because alone means alone, and it's time y'all moved out.

                                                 KAYLEN

                                I'm hardly ever here...

                                                    BEA

                                            You're 30.

                                                KAYLEN

                                                   I'm 29.

                                                    ERIC

                            I'm 29, dumbass, and I'm two years younger.

                                                   BEA

                        You're 30, I was there when you were born. 

                                                    FRANK

                            Lunch is ready, come on out!

                                                    BEA

                        We'll talk details over dad's brats. 

                                                    ERIC

                                Our last meal...

                                                    KAYLEN

                                    Why are you so dramatic?

                Bea exits through kitchen.

                                                   ERIC

                                It's your turn to tell her.

                                                KAYLEN

                                UGH. Why can't dad?

                                                    ERIC

                                He lives here, he does his part.

                                                KAYLEN

                          I haven't lived here since college.

                                                ERIC 

                        No , you came back after school and worked at that ad firm.

                                               KAYLEN

         For like ten minutes. It's not a pissing contest. Why is everything a competition with you?

                                                ERIC

                                            I like to win.

                                                KAYLEN

     Great, then you tell mom again that's she retired five years ago AND we don't live here

         ERIC puts his finger to his nose "nose goes"

                                                KAYLEN

                                        Great. Bite me.

                                                ERIC

        It's not my fault that thirty years of teaching and having you as daughter made her crazy.

                                                KAYLEN

                    She's not crazy, Ass Face. She's just locked into a party five years ago.

                                                ERIC

        Right. Which is completely sane. I stand corrected. Still holding his finger to his nose. It's your turn, girl.

                                                KAYLEN pulls his hair.

                                             Now I'll tell her. 

                                                   BEA

                                        Lunch is waiting!

                                        KAYLEN and ERIC

                                        Coming mom!

    

                                            Play