The Sunshine

Of aSculptor

“Those who educate children well are more to be honoured than they who produce them; for these only

gave them life, those the art of living well.”

- Aristole

Act IAnother Year

The curtains open. A bed sits in the middle of the stage, sideways. An angular spotlight shines on the bed. There are numerous other elements of the bedroom (Bedside table, cupboard, etc) but it’s too dark to see clearly. Lily lays sleeping on the bed, her back turned away from the audience. A dead panned, tired and frightened creature named Lily. She is well on her way to developing a crippling depression as a result of her concrete repression of her rebellion toward her husband’s self-destructive tendencies; His drinking that recently reached chronic, his mercurial nature, his darkening sense of humour, and an anger that builds and leaks in bursts. A once vivacious and comely woman has now been reduced to

plain and greying existence. The door swings open and in walks Dawkins. A tall, thin and gout man, wearing a brown tweed jacket. He carries a briefcase and walks in slowly, slouched and tired. He sits at the side of the bed closest to the audience, facing the audience. He looks down at his fidgeting hands.

Dawkins: (while still looking at his hands) Awake?

Pause

Lily: …….(dryly) no.

Pause

Dawkins: Get out of bed today?

Pause

Lily: …….(dryly) I doubt it.

Awkward silence.

Dawkins: …….(tries to sound more positive) You know who I saw today? Ellio-

Lily: (interrupts) you quit?

Dawkins: ….not yet.

Lily: (slightly more emotional, sounding more feminine) when then?

Dawkins: I think I’ll stay another year.

Lily suddenly and abruptly pushes throws her blanket away from her, reaches for her bedside table drawer and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

Lily: (Pulls out cigarette, nervy and twitchy, on the verge of crying) god-damni-it June.

She struggles to spark the lighter. Her hands tremble. Dawkins casually glances back at her , his face noticeably changes expression to one of irritation.

Dawkins: (quietly mumbles to himself) always with the damn drama. (To Lily) Lily would stop this?! Every time I try to talk to you, you do this.

Lily: (Shrilly and loud) GODDAMN IT JUNE!

He immediately shifts back to his fidgeting hands. Lily, still struggling to light her cigarette, she gets frustrated and throws the lighter across the room (letting out a hint of a war cry), a mirror crack is subtly heard. She continues to look forward at where the lighter was flung for a few moments, breathing heavily. Then she breaks down, burying her face in her palms.

Lily: (sobbing uncontrollably) I-I cant. I-i-I c-ca-ant.

Dawkins: I tried to. I did. I walked in. Full of pep a-and and (emphasis) zing. Ready to tell that fat bastard off, for good. (sounding confused) But then, I froze. I stood there, just staring into his office, and then next thing I know Im running back into the car! I don’t know why, I-I cant remember what I was thinking.

Lily: I-I c-cant go through it a-anymo(breaks down further and sobs louder)

Dawkins: I know. Its killing me. I know. But I can’t help it. It’s a h-high. I’m an addict. I just can’t seem to….wean myself off of it. I can’t seem to clearly see the problem, its like imaging a hundred million in your head, nothing but a bunch of zeros. They sit for a few moments, Lily finally composes herself. She finally stands up and sits next to Dawkins. She runs her hand through her hair, gives him a passionate kiss on the side of his head. She consoles him. Occasional sniffs from her outbreak can still be heard mid dialogues.

Lily:(calmly, thoughtfully) I don’t do much but worry bout’ you. I worry June.Why won’t you quit? Please, give me one good reason, one that I can understand. I’m beggin’.

Dawkins: I couldn’t say, even if I knew, I couldn’t.Sometimes I think its because I want to die.

Lily:(slight trepidation) What?

Dawkins: (still looking down at his hands, fidgeting) This thing, my thing, its killing me. But I’m just letting it happen. Its sticking a knife into me and I’m not stopping it. Every one has that hidden urge, the urge to die. I’m indulging it. If anything I’m speeding it up. The drinking, the smoking, im just rushing my suicide Lil. Everyone has that desire. I get older and I keep thinking, what nobility is there living? Why not just end it quick? I was once alive, and now I feel dead, and lookin’ back I feel that I was selfish. I absorbed all the beauty, but left out the ugly. That’s not life, that’s not true, raw life. Raw life is letting everything shoot through you unconditionally, the good and the bad. It’s not even living, its suffering. True living, is…..its suffering. The putrid always outweighs the ripe, what nobility could there possibly be in suffering through that?

Pause.

Lily: Have you been drinking again?

He isn’t affected by her question, almost like he didn’t hear her. He sits staring at the audience, following his train of thought.

Lily: It’s killing you June. Quit, we’ll go. We’ll go to that country we used to talk ‘bout. Golden crops, wooden barns, we’ll have it all.

Dawkins: (slight smile) we wrote folk songs about that country.

Lily: Its time Junie, all this concrete and smoke’s caught up on us.

Dawkins: It seems so easy, move to Utopia.

Lily: Because it is. It’s that easy.

Dawkins: I feel slothy Lily. I feel like a damn sloth. I used to be a caged bird, but now im just a sloth. No country’s going to change that.

Lily: (kisses him on his head) You know that’s not true baby. You still have the same virility and passion, I’ve seen you teach. You just channel all of it into those kids, and its killing everything else around you. You’re using all the water on one plant and everything else is dying! I’M dying baby.

Lily still stroking his hair, he sits thinking. They sit like that for a few moments. He then glances at his watch.

Dawkins: Go to bed, I’ll quit tomorrow.

He stands up.

Lily: Going out for a smoke again?

Dawkins: Yeah. I could use one.

He walks toward the door, hits the light switch next to it. The lights fade. The curtains close.

Act IIWall Confessions

The curtains open, to reveal a backyard. A wooden fence sits sideways at the left of the stage (Not facing the audience), dividing the two sides of the stage. There is a big difference between the left and the right side of the fence, the right side has much more space so, the fence is positioned much more toward the left than the right.A garden shed against the fence.

Dawkins leans on the fence at the back side of the stage, far from the audience. He leans sideways, facing the audience. His left shoulder pressed against the fence, legs crossed. He leaned smoking a cigarette. The lights are angled to illuminate and light Dawkins only (harsh lighting). He stands smoking for a few moments. Then, the lights lighting the front of Dawkins fade out, leaving only one solemn spotlight. The spotlight in angled slightly behind him. Now we only see his figure, his face and front area is all shadowy. And we can also make out the bright orange tip of the cigarette going toward his mouth and outward. Lights now fade in to illuminate an area in front of and to the right of Dawkins. Soft lighting this time, the lighting establishes a warm summer hue. Reverbs of children laughing, water flowing, birds chirping (Sound of summer) can be heard. Two children playing and running enter the stage from the right to the right side of the stage. They play, with toy trucks and waterguns. Dawkins stands there at the back, just looking. A clear contrast is established between Dawkins and the children. The children look more dreamy and Dawkins looks harsher. The children play while Dawkins smokes, this goes on for a while. It goes on until a knock is heard, a knock with a certain rhythm and pattern. The lights on the children and the sounds quickly fade out and the lights fade in again on Dawkins. He quickly drops his cigarette and steps on it. He then knocks the fence, mimicking the same rhythm and pattern as the one previously heard.

Neighbour: Who’s goin’ first?

Lights fade into the left side of the fence. A neighbour sits leaning on the right side of the fence. The neighbour is a young girl, in her 20’s probably. We only see one side of her, but we can see that she has thick black curly hair, milk skin and brooding baby blue eyes. A face of understanding, but she has judging and unforgiving sombre eyes.

Dawkins: I am, (Pulls out stool from shed) and in good timing as well.

Neighbour: Rough day?

Dawkins: (Sits down and lets out a sigh) Rough as they get.

The neighbour pulls out a cigarette and passes it over a crack in the fence to Dawkins.

Neighbour: Shoot then.

Dawkins: (Lights cigarette and smokes) I tried to quit again today.

Neighbour: Tried to?

Dawkins: (passes cigarette) Yes, I tried to.

Neighbour: So, you didn’t quit?

Throughout the conversation they pass the cigarette between the two of them.

Dawkins: I think I will.

Neighbour: Why not just……quit? Why all this drama?

Dawkins: I don’t know.

Neighbour: I think you do.

Pause

Dawkins: Been thinking bout summer.

Neighbour: Summer.

Dawkins: Summer days. When I was a kid. Simpler times.

Neighbour: Yeah?

Dawkins: People were still lootin’and killin’, and I knew it. And I didn’t care. Just played with waterguns and firetrucks. Lily and me. Everything was sunny ya know, nothing hurt.

Neighbour: You knew your wife when you were kids?

Dawkins: We were best friends.

Neighbour: Huh.

They sit smoking for a long pause. They are now getting sleepy, so their pacing and wording is much slower and softer.

Neighbour: What else do you remember bout your childhood?

Dawkins: Not much.

Pause

Neighbour: What do you remember after you forgot?

Dawkins: After I forgot what?

Neighbour: There’s a blur right? That grey area. You don’t remember much of your childhood, teenagehood, that’s your blur. What do you remember clearly and vividly after that blur?

Pause. They are sleepier now. Bring their tone and pace lower.

Dawkins: I uh…….I played some folk songs for my pop once.

As soon as he finished his sentence, soft lights abruptly switched on (Not fade in) on the right side of the fence again, in front of Dawkins. A balm gaunt old man sits on a stool away from the audience, and a young Dawkins sits in front of him, Diagonally. He sits facing the audience. The lighting is set up so that we only see silhouettes of the two men. A cyan blue dreamy hue is seen. We see the young Dawkins strumming his guitar, but we hear no sound.

Neighbour: Did he like them?

Dawkins: No no he hated them. Most folks did.

Neighbour: That bad?

Dawkins: No they weren’t bad at all. They just….didn’t like them. Maybe it was me.

Neighbour: …Why that memory? Whats so great about it?

Dawkins thinks for a while.

Dawkins: It was one of those moments where it was just about to rain. The air was so heavy. So much tension, but there was this, electricity in the air. And my guitar, just seemed so much more, fluid. The strings danced along my fingers. And for the first time, my dad, he just listened. I felt, free. Words are a poor excuse, I know. But I felt freer for that minute than I’ve ever felt.

Pause

Neighbour: You remember any of them?

Dawkins: Any of what?

Neighbour: The folk songs that you wrote.

Dawkins: (Pause) No. I don’t remember most of them.

Neighbour: How come? You don’t remember the songs?

Dawkins: Bits and pieces. Memories are like that, you forget most of the good times, and the mundane looms over you. But you always remember how you felt, (soft lights on the left get switched off). It hangs over.You chase that feeling, a high for a lot of your life.

Some people feel it again, I haven’t.

I think my pops felt it when he died. Wide smile and fulfilled eyes. Just complete peace. Mom however, terrified. When she was slipping on her death bed she told me, and I asked her if there was any light, could she see anything?

Neighbour: Did she?

Dawkins: …..Nothing…..she saw nothing. Just darkness.

Pause

Dawkins: She was a good and honourable person all her life and he was a lazy drunk.

They sit for a while.

Dawkins: How come you aren’t talking much?

Neighbour: I think it’s your day today.What’s so great about teaching?

He thinks about it for a few moments.

Dawkins: I remember my first day. The headmaster walked into my class, shook my hand firmly, and said exactly this, “You’re a sculptor, all the kids are blank lumps of clay, you mold and sculpt them.”I toss and turn everyday thinking about that.

Neighbour: You toss and turn everyday about that?

Dawkins: Did I sculpt one wrong? If they fail, is it on me?

Neighbour: That’s just silly.

Dawkins: You hold a pulpy mess of a clay when they first come to you, and ……you decide what they become. It’s a power that gives me a raw high.

Half asleep now. Slower tone and pace. Breaks in their voices mid dialogue. They are not thinking very clearly, just following streams of thought. Some words get slurred.

Neighbour: Sometimes I feel like robbing a bank.

Dawkins: We should rob a bank.

Neighbour: I’ll be look out.

Dawkins: We’ll buy some ski masks.

Neighbour: Pink…….so that we don’t stand out.

Dawkins: Nothing more inconspicuous then a long old man and a petit young woman in pink ski masks.

They sit and smoke for a while. The neighbour now instead of sitting facing the right side of the stage, turns and rests the side of her head on the fence, facing the audience. She folds her legs toward her body and sits comfortably.

Neighbour: Is it always this hard?

Dawkins: (Pause) No, not always. There are moments. You have moments.

Neighbour: Like what?

He thinks for a bit.

Dawkins: You get pulpy masses of clay. Its just disgusting, uncontrollable pulp. And you get to see that pulp grow into, the most delightful people you’ll ever know.

Pause

Dawkins: It gets easier when you have some purpose I guess.

Neighbour: is that why you won’t quit? Cause you’ll have no purpose?

Dawkins: Maybe. It doesn’t matter.

Pause

Neighbour: I don’t think I have much purpose.

Dawkins: No?

Neighbour: I’m just bad at most things.

Dawkins: It takes time to figure it out and get good at something.

Pause.

Neighbour: Sometime I feel like an old woman.

Dawkins: What? Why?

Neighbour: I keep having these memories. Their supposed to be good memories, on paper their supposed to be wonderful. But I don’t feel it, and I………keep looking back at them. Like an old woman looking through a photo album when shes dying. I don’t feel like I’m living them.

Pause.

Dawkins: Are you scared?

Neighbour: …..sometimes. I’m scared now.

They sit thinking for a little bit.

Neighbour: What about marriage, does that make it easier?

Dawkins: (Long pause) No. Well, yes. Sometimes no.

Pause

Dawkins: Lily used to have lush red hair. Lush and thick. She used to be strong, independent, smart. Smarter than me.

Neighbour: Well, you’re you. Most people are smarter then you.

Dawkins: (smiles) Thanks. We used to talk. Talk about so much. And we had fun, pure fun.

Pause

Dawkins: That’s what marriage is. You get married and you constantly see each other. And that person replaces your reflection. You have to see each other change, completely.

Pause

Neighbour: You still love her?

Dawkins: (sounding unsure) Yeah I still love her. I just…..miss her sometimes.

Long pause. Both they’re eyes are closed. Really slow pace and a lot of slurring.

Neighbour: Hey June?

Dawkins: Yeah?

Neighbour: If you quit, you’ll leave?

Dawkins: I will.

Pause.

Neighbour: I’ll miss you, or atleast I think I will.

Dawkins: I guess I’ll miss you too kid.

Pause

Neighbour: Remember any of those songs?

Dawkins: I remember some Dylan.

Neighbour: sing it.

Dawkins: Another time maybe.

They both fall asleep.The curtains close.

Act IIIThe Dream

The curtains open to reveal Dawkin’s bedroom (Same one from Act I). Except this time, the whole scene and room has a blue tint to it, the lighting is blue. And this time, there’s a huge window with curtains covering it. An old woman (about 50-ish), sits at the end of the side of the bed closest to the audience. She wears the same dress that Lily wore at Act I. The wall with the door at the left side of the room, has been replaced with the fence Dawkins felt asleep on. And Dawkin’s lies asleep on the fence. Dawkin’s wakes up, looks around, notices the old woman and stands up abruptly in shock.

Dawkins: M-ma?!

Mama looks at Dawkins and in a panicky but yet, oddly elegant melodramatic manner, walks up to him in anxiety. Mama speaks with a thick Savannah accent (southern)

Mama: Sweetheart, y-you didn’t die did you?

Dawkins: I-I don’t…know.

Mama: S-sit down sweetheart.

Dawkins: (Sits down in a stumbling manner) I-I think I’m probably dreaming.

Mama: (Sits down next to him) Probably. Why do you look so thin and tired?

Dawkins: My body trying to digest that turkey from Thanksgiving 97’.

Mama: Oh hush.

Dawkins: Why….why am I here Ma?

Mama: Its your dream, maybe your brain needs fixin’.

Dawkins: A lotta things need-a fixin’ ma.

Mama: Why won’t you quit that damn job and go to that country?

Dawkins: I dunno ma. I just don’t know.

Mama: That’s a stupid answer. Now hush up with this you don’t know business and tell me why.

Dawkins: I feel scared Ma, I don’t know why, I don’t know what, but I just feel scared. I feel like there’s this……giant piano hanging over me, and its gonna…gonna drop anytime now, any day. And every day I have to pretend like it’s not there, I have to put on my mask and pretend, the sad clown.

Mama: You’ve just been this way for so long June, it’s hard to break off.

Dawkins:…No….No Ma. I can’t quit my job Ma, I love it. I inspire people, I’m doing something relevant, someth-

Mama: Relevant to who? (stands up) Relevant to what? Darlin’ you’re a high school teacher. And not a great one.

Dawkins is visibly hurt.

Mama: I’m sorry sweetie, but that’s just the way it is. You’re an average at best, you’re a dime-a-dozen. There are great teachers, you’re just not one of them. Your children don’t care about you, they never will. They’re biggest concern is scoring some funny cigarettes and chattin’ up some girls after class.

That’s all. The world is that pointless and simple June, when’re ya finally gon’ get that?

Dawkins: N-no no. Y-you’re wrong ma, you’re wron-

Mama: Face it June, you’re doing this for you. You’re just doing all of this cause you’re scared, like the rest of us, that you just don’t matter! And you know what, you don’t! The world doesn’t stop spinnin’ when you hit the hay! The sun don’t shine on you only darlin’! You are nothing in this world. You never will be. But that’s alright. I know that you and Lilly couldn’t have kids, I’m sorry about that. But you students don’t repla-

Dawkins: (louder and more emotion then he’s ever been) SHUT UP!

Mama gets startled, she changes from confident to scared. Dawkin’s face changes from emotion to cold, he becomes angry (In a composed manner). He gets up and inches closer to his mother in a threatening manner throughout the conversation, and she inches away from his as if scared. His words are as solid as concrete now, with a guttural voice. He is menacing and domineering, channelling another completely different person. He speaks faster than he’s even spoken.

Dawkins: Who do you think you’re talking to? No really, who-who, do you think you’re talking to? Do you think you’re talking to Little Junie playing in the driveway? No, You’re talking to June Dawkins you dead hag. You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me. You. Know. (emphasis) Nothing.Sit up on your goddamn pedestal and call me pathetic?! Doormat Liza is calling ME pathetic?

Mama’s eyes now shrink-wrapped in tears.

Dawkins: Hey ma! Remember that one night, that one night when pop came home and gave me that glass of beer? You remember that?

Mama doesn’t answer. Dawkins grabs a vase from the bedside table as he moves.

Dawkins (throws vase, it hits the wall behind mama) ANSWER ME!

Mama: y-yes!

Dawkins: How old was I? hmm? how old, was I? (gets more and more agitated) How old was I ma?! How goddamn old was I?! (Throws chair in his way against the wall at his side) HOW OLD WAS I LIZA?!

Mama: I-I DON’T REMEMBER!

Dawkins: 5. 5 years old. And when I passed out and woke up the next day, What….did you say?

Mama: I-I don-

Dawkins: Nothing. You said nothing and pretend it never happened. You naïve old hag. Tell me something, Was your father a drunk?(Pause) Hmm? Was your father a drunk mother? Was he?!

Mama: N-no

Dawkins: Mine was. He was a neglectful goddamned drunk. And you were there to see him colossally screw me over, and you did, nothing. So, what gives you the right? The audacity, to judge me? Hmm?

Mama: Im you’re m-mother.

He’s finally trapped Mama into a corner.

Dawkins: *Imitates buzzer noise* EEH! More of a vessel than a mother, cause’ lets face facts, after I popped out all you really did was drift along the wind. What else you got?

Mama: I raised you Junie! I-I was the one who looked after you!

Dawkins: *Imitates buzzer noise* EEH! Wrong again. You were a pathetic little ant, and you clearly died as one as well you stu-

Mama: Look at yourself! Look at who you’re channelling! LOOK AT WHO YOU’VE BECOME!

He stops short. His solid demeanour breaks. A subtle look of a shock in his face. He stumbles back into the bed, walking nervously and twitchy.

Dawkins: Goddamn Pop. God damn him.

Both of them stay thinking for a while.

Dawkins: I don’t know what I want.

Mama: What you want is right out there Junie. It’s the country.

Dawkins: I dunno ma. I….dont…know.

Mama: Its heaven. Why not? Can you give me one answer that I can understand?

Dawkins: I guess this is one of those epiphany dreams huh? I guess im supposed to feel all inspired and lovey?

Mama: Its your dream Junie, its what you want it to be. But it sure does look like one of em’ dreams.

Dawkins: I don’t feel it. Is that bad?

Mama: You’re just scared Junie. Think of Lily.

Dawkins: Sometimes I think i’m the worst thing that ever happened to her. She’s not there anymore Ma, she’s gone. I-I’m gone.

Mama: You’re just lost, find it and you’re gold Junie.

Dawkins: I think all the makeup just wore off for the both us. Our outer skin just rotted off. This is our true self. This is what we are. Greying, boring, terrible people. The vitality of youth,

love, its all gone. What you see when you see Lily and me are true and raw ma.

Mama: People age and absorb too much. Living things rot, its what happens. This isn’t your raw self, a baby is your raw self.

Mama sits back down next to Dawkins.

Mama: Look, I’m sorry that the past is the past sweetie. You’ll probably never get over it, but that’s ok. The world is horrid, but you’ll survive. We all do.

They sit and think for a while.

Mama: You ready June? Ready to be reborn?

Suddenly, thunder is heard and lightning flashes is seen through the window. June stands up, and heads directly toward the audience. A slight smile and peaceful eyes are seen. A spotlight now fades in on Dawkins.

Dawkins: Im ready Ma, do it.

Mama pulls out a gun. The thunder gets louder and flashes more frequent. She’s trembling as she points the gun toward him, and after and pause. She shoots Dawkins in the head. All the lights goes off, everything’s dark. Lightning still flashes through the window, and we can make out through the occasional flashes on the stage that Dawkins is on the floor and Mama is still standing there with her gun up, breathing heavily. The curtains close.

Act IVThe Nightmare

The curtains open. We see the fence, and we see Dawkins sleeping on the fence, just like he was at the end of Act II. The fence is positioned exactly where it was. Next to the fence, is a living room. One of those rustic wooden living rooms, with a long dining table in the middle of it. A set of stairs at the end of the stage, toward the wall. A grandfather clock standing at the wall of the set of stairs, the ticking of it can be subtly heard. An old man leans at the side of the grandfather clock, drinking a glass of whisky. A thin, gaunt, and grey old man. A face that gives off an heir of permanent arrogance, anger and disbelief. Slightly furrowed eyebrows and slightly squinting eyes. The old man leans swirling his glass with one hand, unflinching stare at the audience. ‘He wears a black suit, dressed like a mortician. Dawkins wakes up, and looks around in disbelief, he finally notices the old man. He suddenly stands up, staring in shock at the old man.

Dawkins: P-pop?

The old man breaks his unflinching and shifts his gaze toward.

Pop: The hell are you doin’ here princess? Dya’ die already?

Dawkins: I-I don’t know.

Pop: Hmm. Did ya see a light? Pop starts laughing hard, but it’s the breathy waspy laugh, no sound. Dawkins stumbles and sits down on the chair at the edge of the table. Pop laughs to the point where he wipes tears of his eyes, and composes himself.

Pop: -ahaha! Oh brother. What a pansy.

Dawkins sits, finally calmed down and in acceptance of the situation.

Dawkins: Maybe im just dreaming.

Pop: Maybe buddy boy. Or you finally pulled that trigger (starts laughing)

Dawkins sits unphased by all of his father’s comments, almost as if he’s used to it.

Dawkins: (Looks around) what the hell is this place?

Pop: Hell I think.

Dawkins: Hell?

Pop: (sips drink) Yeah. That.

Pop: Want a drink there buddy?

No answer.

Pop: Suit yourself.

Dawkins: I’m probably just dreaming.

Pop: (looks at Dawkins face) Looks like the years has been a bitch to you son. I like those smiles on your forehead.

Dawkins: You still look like a piss poor scotched up excuse for a man grandpa.

Pop: That I do buddy boy, that I do.

They sit for a while

Pop: So sonny, why are you a 30 year old man who’s afraid of quitting a goddamned teaching job?

Dawkins: I’m not anymore pa.

Pop: Oh yeah?

Dawkins: Yeah. I killed my old self, im a new man Pa.

Pop: Hmmm. Tell me Dianne, did you happen to grow a pair as well?

Dawkins: I guess this is my nightmare.

Pop: Looks like it.

Dawkins: Why did you say its hell then?

Pop: It might as well be. Isn’t this hell buddy boy? Sittin’ around, doin’ nothin’. Now that’s real punishment, that’s real damnation. That biblical crap, the fire and lava. Doesn’t that sound like a picnic compared to spending a minute with the man you became and thinkin’ bout the who you coulda become?

Dawkins doesn’t answer.

Pop: (clicks tongue) But the real conundrum buddy boy, if that’s hell, whats heaven right? Hmm, what…is….heaven? Everyone sittin’ on poofy clouds, rocking out to some smooth harp and sipin’ on some righteous holy agua? No…no….No right?

Dawkins doesn’t answer.

Pop: No no. If you were to spend your whole life being good and virtuous, doing one good thing everyday, sayin’ no to drugs and all the crap, if you fit the bill for heaven, I mean your life ought to be pretty damn happy right? Really all of this, being virtuous and good is just about keeping life as simple as possible when it gets down to it. Simplicity and minimalism is happiness. Happiness is heaven. So heaven’s probably just, nothingness. No after life, life itself was heaven. Heaven is you 6 feet under.

Dawkins: (calmly) Oh ok. (Angry) Are you drunk?!

Pop: Of course I am. I’m always drunk, or at least to you I always was.

Dawkins: Can’t really blame me for that can you?

Pop: (smirks) Hmm, I guess not. Still, I hear you do your fair share of chugging these days as well.

Dawkins: Yeah well that’s the old me. I don’t do that stuff anymore. Im a new man.

Pop: (laughs) I was a new man once. Then I was a new man a couple of years later after that as well buddy boy. That cycle went on for some time. Then I become, me.

Dawkins: (Sarcastic) See ya settled for the very best there huh pop?

Pop: I settled on me. On who I am.

Dawkins: That’s just great, prime goddamn pick is what you are.

Pop: Keep making your wisecracks there Ghandhi, im everything you want to be.

Dawkins: No you’re not.

Pop: You just…need a little push there, you’re well on your way buddy boy.

Dawkins: Stop it.

Pop: Say, did you recently try switching to scotch, I switched around your time as well, *sigh* Yeap theres no turning back from that poison.

Dawkins: Shut up.

Pop: You know how I used to blow off some steam there buddy, I got myself a cutie neighbour, and instead of ever exchanging

a single tender word with my wife, I’d just talk to her all night! (Laughs)

Dawins abruptly stands up, emotionally quivering and boiling with rage. The next words slip out of him like an untapped insecurity.

Dawkins: IM NOT YOU, I NEVER WILL BE!

Pop: Keep running buddy boy, but we are what we are in this world.

Dawkins: (walks closer to Pop as he speaks) Look old man, I don’t know what kind of head trip you’re trying here, but you quit it right now.

Dawkins stands close to his father in a confrontational way. His father is unphased.

Pop: You don’t think I used to be like you?

Dawkins: What?

Pop: You don’t think I used to fret? To question?

Pop becomes more agitated. He steps away from Dawkins and moves around.

Pop: Hmm? You don’t think I used to have goddamn heart attacks thinking about things? About my life?

Dawkins: (coldly) No.

Pop is visibly hurt. He speaks with more emotion and frustration than ever. He turns to Dawkins.

Pop: That’s all I am to you I guess.

Dawkins: That’s all you ever were to anyone.

Pop speaks with more pace and intensity than ever. Before, it was like his words leaked out of him, now the words came shooting out. He speaks from an untapped place, unlike previously.

Pop: People remember me. You remember me, before I became me. Even when I drank and sat singing and dancing, I still felt like a rotten sloth. I had pipe dreams, big ambition, I had it all. But I wasn’t even close buddy boy, not even a little. One day I sat, and I stopped. I gave up on all those kitschy pipe dreams, stopped looking for some damn fulfilment, some arbitrary happiness. And let me tell ya something buddy boy, it hit me like a goddamn train. I dunno, when you have nothing to lose, you really feel-

Dawkins: -free.

Pop: Free. You’ll see, when you finally sit still, when ya get rid of the damn hope and remorse that makes you lie to yourself that you’re something you’re not, that’s makes you hide behind work and love. Everything I did, I did because I wanted to, and because it made me happy. People don’t ever stop and think there’s freedom in being a nomad, that there’s happiness in drifting. I threw away my delusions, we’re all screwed. But I embraced the hopelessness of my fate buddy boy, isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?

Dawkins is speechless at this point, his eyes shrink-wrapped in tears. They stand for a few moments, Pop near the audience, and Dawkins next to the grandfather clock. Pop finally looks at him.

Pop: Truth is, I wasn’t that bad. You wanna keep blaming me for what you’ve become then fine, I’ll take the rap. I always have, and I always will.

Pop chuckles, he calms down and walks up to June. He hugs his son, kisses him on his cheek.

Pop: (arms still around him) “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot. The world forgetting, by the world forgot.Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned.”(pats June on the cheek) Live free or die buddy boy.

Pop walks out. June stands, still in shock. The curtains close.

Act VAcceptance in Mexico

The curtains open to reveal Dawkin’s bedroom again. Dawkins leans on the dresser and Lily sits at the edge of the bed. Dawkins is wearing a bag, dressed to go out. While Lily is still in her sleeping attire.

Lily: Mexico?

Dawkins: Mexico.

Lily: I-I don’t understand. We’re going to Mexico?

Dawkins: I am.

Lily: w-what? I-I d-don’t-

Dawkins: Im leaving Lily.

Lily is speechless, eyes welling up.

Dawkins: I just think its time, we’re both tired.

Lily: You d-don’t love me anymore?

Dawkins: I do, I think I always will. The world was dark, but you were the light. All the lights.

Lily: Then…….then why?

He starts breathing heavier, eyes well up. But he doesn’t look sad. He looks happy.

Dawkins: (slight laugh) I dunno. Because I want to? I need to?I…..I feel like I gave my everything for that country, and now I’m……I’m nothing. All I know is, my bones are being crushed by the life that I’m not living.

Lily: Haven’t we been down this road before? How many bridges have we burned together? All we ever remember is the smoke.

Dawkins: I guess. But, I gotta try. And you can’t be with me.

Lily: W-why? Why not?

Dawkins: We’re poison. By ourselves I guess we’re ok, but to each other we’re poison. And we just get more potent as we age.

Lily: But the country will-

Dawkins: No. The country wont help. It’ll just isolate us, make it worse.

Pause.

Dawkins: I had a…..dream last night. A dream and what I thought was a nightmare. Mama was there, and Pops as well. And Mama was like you, trying to sell me somethin’. Tryin’ ta sell me the country. I channelled someone. I don’t know who, I don’t remember. But it was a defence mechanism maybe, I dunno. But then Pops came out, and he just……accepted. Didn’t try to change me, didn’t try to sell me anything. He just…….accepted. He told me to give up, I woke up this morning and I did. And……I felt free. And I felt true and untarnished happiness. The weight of fear and hope and…..love, just lifted off my shoulders and I began floating. Isn’t that what happiness is, simplicity?

Lily: B-but I-im still in love with you. We can be happy, be happy together.

Dawkins: We were happy once. I remember. It was like sunrise. My breakfast tasted better than any meal I’ll ever taste. Everything blossomed, everything bloomed. Your flowing hair held the universe together. The cosmos in your eyes rewired my emotions and rewrote my history. But at the end of the day, it had to go away. The sunset came.

Lily starts breathing very heavily, she begins showing signs of anxiety and fear.

Lily: T-this c-cant be happening. (talks to herself) No…no this isn’t happening. It cant be.

Pause.

Lily: How could y-you? W-why why-

Dawkins: You’ll be fine. This is what you want, this is what we want.

Lily: No no it isn’t. Its not what I want.

Dawkins: It’ll take a while to realize it, but its what you want.

Lily: What….what did I do?

Dawkins kneels down next to Lily, he holds her hand.

Dawkins: Don’t you see, it’s a viscous cycle. All of life is just a viscous cycle. You marry a woman who’s exactly your mother, and you become your father. We’re bound to follow a cycle that’s passed down. The way our parents lived just becomes a compass for us. Something, somebody has to break the cycle lil, we can’t live like our parents did. I can’t be my dad, and I can’t stand to see you become mother. Train wrecks on ice we’ll be if we continue down that road. They aged and got worse.

They sit and think.

Lily: Where….where did we go wrong?

Dawkins: I dunno. We got married, and I guess we started to become the people we think we wanted each other to become. Now we have to spent every goddamn day being something we’re not, well I cant do it.

Pause

Dawkins: Maybe a couple of years later, we’ll be ourselves. Maybe I’ll see you in a café, and we’ll give it another shot.

Dawkins kisses her on her forehead. It’s a slow kiss, like he knows it might be their last kiss. He turns around and Lily starts breathing harder. Dawkins walks toward the audience.

Dawkins: I never thought I’d feel so free,-

Lily, barely breathing, begins tottering around the bed to reach the bedside table.

Dawkins (contd): I haven’t felt this way since I was a teenager Lil, not since we wrote those folk songs,-

Lily pulls out a gun from the drawer of the bedside table.

Dawkins (contd): -I finally broke the damn cycle I th-

Lily shoots Dawkins in the head. She trembles and, after realizing what she’s done, drops the gun in shock and disgust. She sits in the bed, and buries her face in her palms, while Dawkins lies on the floor, dead and cold. The curtains close.