Thursday, April 23, 2009

Lacking the Inclination to Write a Fifth Act, A Play in Four


A man, unhappy, unwraps a bandage from around his head.


A woman, in glasses, eats a sandwich. When she is finished with her meal, she lets out a soft, noisome belch. She looks about to see if anyone has overseen this, or worse, smelt it, but nobody else is in the room. She lets out a slight sigh, noisome still from the lingering burp.


Over the telephone, the man from I speaks to the woman from II.

M: How was your sandwich?

W (blushing): I’d rather not talk about it.

A silence persists for some time. The man tries to think of something to say but cannot. The woman is still concerned that someone might have overseen/smelt her belch. Then, suddenly, the woman remembers something.

W: And your bandage?

M: I managed it.

Again silence. The two never have much to say to one another.


Not wanting to bring in any other characters and not having much more to say about either of these two, this story will conclude here.

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