Other Works
Dustin's first one-act was written for StrangeLoop's first annual Loop Shop in 2009.
An Excerpt from the Top of "Leaving Georgetown." Aimee alone, direct address as though she's talking to a reporter AIMEE. You know nothing too exciting ever happened, but most of the time that was a good thing. Seasons come and go. Folks grow up, get married, have kids. Things in Georgetown never change they just kinda age. Like the old grain silos you see all over the place. Most of the farmers don’t know how old the things are, just that they’ve always been there. Maybe their daddies put them up or their granddaddies, who knows? I never thought I would stay in Georgetown, you know. I always wanted to see the world. Paris. Rome. London. God, I had this poster of Big Ben that I stared at so much you would have thought it was a TV! Didn’t know how I was going to get there, but hell, I was sure that I would make it. Things sorta changed… ya know… after… When something like that happens you cling to… Like after 9/11 everyone started flying the flag like everyday was the fourth of July. It was something everyone knew, something we understood. I guess that’s why I stayed. Even though it all happened right here I couldn’t get away from it ya know? Georgetown is the only thing that made any sense. Lights up on a basement. TWEAK. Inventory. OZZIE. Glock 37 compact pistol. TWEAK. Check. OZZIE. MAC 11 submachine gun. TWEAK. Check OZZIE. Sawed off Remington 11-87 semi-automatic. TWEAK. Check OZZIE. With cartridges TWEAK. …Um…check and check OZZIE. Self-adhesive plastiques with radio remote detonators. TWEAK. Shazam! OZZIE. Shit! We are going to light this town up! Trench coats. TWEAK. … OZZIE. Trench coats. TWEAK. Uh… OZZIE. Goddamn it Tweak where are the fucking trench coats! TWEAK. I forgot…? OZZIE. You forgot? You forgot. Tweak what are we supposed to do without trench coats? TWEAK. I know whatcha said Oz, but I couldn’t find any. Honest! I was raiding dumpsters and storerooms all afternoon and nobody’s throwin’ ‘em away, and you know how much they cost. One, two hundred a pop and that’s not even lookin’ at the army/navy place… OZZIE. Fuckers keep all the best stuff themselves. TWEAK. Well whadda we need ‘em for anyway? With all the other stuff we can do anything we want. OZZIE. No fucktard. The coats are part of the look. Half the battle is psychology. You can’t be a badass unless you look like a fucking badass. That’s like Batman without the cape; Trinity with out the pleather; shit it’s like Bin Ladin without the fucking turban! TWEAK. Okay, okay Ozzie I’ll get ‘um. Don’t worry I’ll… TWEAK’S cellphone rings TWEAK. Hello? … Hey ma… Huh? … Who? … Ma! … Do I have to? … But Oz is down here … Okay … Love you too… OZZIE. ? TWEAK. Aimee’s comin’ down. OZZIE. What!?! TWEAK. I said Aimee’s… OZZIE. I know what you said jackass. Help me hide all this shit before that little slut gets down here. TWEAK. Hey, it’s not my fault that our moms are friends. I had to. OZZIE. So tell her no! TWEAK. What and end up like you? OZZIE. Fuck off! TWEAK. No seriously. I tell her off and she tells me I gotta start payin’ rent. OZZIE. I don’t believe this. TWEAK. I gotta pay rent means I gotta get a job. OZZIE. Yeah right. TWEAK. I get a job and my life is over man! OZZIE. Your life? What the fuck do you know Tweak!?! Is this your life? Down here in your fucked up little hole? It’s not real Tweak, none of it. |
Before Dawn
A Full-Length Work in Progress In the future, when capital punishment is outlawed, this is the story of the last man grandfathered in to be executed and his quest for peace. ZEKE stops his prayer short and walks purposefully to the bars of his cell. ZEKE. Guard! Guard! ZEKE bangs on the bars a few times. ZEKE. Guard! I need a guard! Guard! Footsteps can be heard as JIMMY leaves his station down the hall, and walks toward the cell. ZEKE. Guard! JIMMY. (offstage) Shut up Jones! I heard ya the first time. ZEKE. I need- JIMMY. (offstage) You forget how to piss again? ZEKE. I need paper and a pen and I need them now. JIMMY can now be seen on the other side of the bars to the cell. JIMMY. Now huh? What for? You gonna write your lawyer, see if there’s any hope left for you? ZEKE. My business is none of your concern. Just get them for me and get them for me now. JIMMY. Oh that’s right. I forgot. You ain’t got a lawyer. Silly me. ZEKE. I am not in need of your law lawman, merely paper and a pen. JIMMY. But what for Jones? You got some friend you ain’t told me about? ZEKE. You will get them for me- JIMMY. Cuz I know it ain’t family. We all know what happened to them don’t we? ZEKE. Yes, I am very aware of what happened to my family. Are you? JIMMY. I heard it was a meat cleaver. ZEKE. A carving knife actually. More precision. In the right hands of course. JIMMY. Of course. ZEKE. Would you care for a demonstration, or would you prefer to get me my pen? After a moment of tense silence… JIMMY. (laughing) That’s what I always liked about you Jones: a sense of humor. Always had a special place in my heart, just for you. ‘Course I’ll get you your pen. JIMMY pulls a pen and a small pad of paper out of his pocket. JIMMY. Got it right here in fact. ZEKE. I appreciate the kindness. JIMMY. ‘Course I can’t give it to you. Could hurt somebody. Could hurt me. Could hurt yourself. ZEKE. And be cast into hell? Not likely? JIMMY. Strange thought comin’ from a man in your position. ZEKE. Perhaps you should remember how I found myself in this position. JIMMY. That a threat Jones? You must not really want this pen after all. ZEKE. No threat; merely an observation. JIMMY. Tell you what. You just tell me what you want to write, and I’ll scribble it down for you. How about that? ZEKE. I am afraid my business today is private. JIMMY. Ain’t nothin’ private in here Jones. Ain’t you heard? ZEKE. I have my rights. JIMMY. And who knows what they are? I sure as hell don’t. They change the rules about you every single goddamned day. ZEKE. Watch your mouth, son! JIMMY. Like, can I say anything I damn well please? ZEKE. The Lord has commanded: thou shalt not take my name in vain. JIMMY. Do I have to mind the bullshit a dead man just livin’ out his last days? ZEKE. You know nothin’ of the last days, boy. JIMMY. Maybe not, but I do know this. Anything I do for you, I do out of the goodness of my heart. Not because some dead sonofabitch tells me to. You got that? ZEKE. … JIMMY. Good. You may be special Jones, one of a kind in fact, but don’t you ever forget who’s runnin’ this little freakshow. Cuz if you do, you might not see that needle after all. ZEKE. A threat? JIMMY. Naw, ‘course not Jones; just an observation. ZEKE. I see. JIMMY. Now, you want me to write for you or don’t ya? ZEKE. If you must. JIMMY. I don’t “must” anything. But I will, if you ask real nice. ZEKE. Will you then? … Please? JIMMY. Please what? ZEKE. Will you please, sir, write for me? JIMMY. Why Jones I thought you’d never ask. Be pleased to. And what is it that I’ll be writing for you this fine afternoon? ZEKE. My testament. JIMMY. Your what? ZEKE. My testament. My will. JIMMY. A will, of course. But you ain’t got no kin. No one’s gonna miss you. Who you gonna give it to? Shit, you ain’t got nothin’ to leave nobody anyhow. ZEKE. I am an instrument of the Lord. JIMMY. ‘Course you are Jones, we all know that, but- ZEKE. And what the Lord commands I must do. Will you please write for me, sir? JIMMY. Well, when you put it like that. ZEKE. Thank you. JIMMY. Last words. It’ll be my pleasure. ‘Course it’ll have to wait. You’ve got yourself a visitor. ZEKE. I do not want any visitors. I want you to- JIMMY. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Jones. You’ll get your words. The Lord’ll just have to wait a little while, cuz his instrument is otherwise engaged. ZEKE. Do not play games with me, boy. The Lord does not suffer the liar’s tongue. JIMMY. I’ll try to remember that. In the mean time you remember to play nice now. Or I might just lose track of this little pen of mine. Kinda hard to write without it. Don’t you think? ZEKE. I have no wish for visitors. And I must- JIMMY. Don’t you know it ain’t polite to keep a lady waitin’? Now step back. ZEKE doesn’t move. JIMMY. Step back Jones or I swear I’ll shove this pen so far up your ass you’ll be shittin’ blue for weeks. And I don’t think you have much longer than that. Do ya? And here I was thinkin’ you wanted me to do you a favor. |