Thursday, August 18, 2005
Scene 4
(Lights up. The mysterious figure appears from the stage right wings again. He crosses to the desk and finds another brown bag lunch. He rifles through the bag and pulls out a sandwich. He takes a bite and then stops. He finds a second lunch on the desk. He is confused. Just then MIKE enters from off-stage left. The two men just stare at each other for a few seconds.)
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
(Sarcastic.)
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
(Defensive.)
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
I've noticed you don't wear the ring to work.
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
MIKE
BOB
DEB
MIKE
DEB
MIKE
DEB
MIKE
DEB
MIKE
Hello. (The mystery man resumes eating the sandwich in a nonchalant manner.) I noticed you seem partial to the egg salad. There's also some pretzels in there if you want. I'm Mike. Are you Bob?
BOB
There's two.
MIKE
Pardon?
BOB
Two lunches.
MIKE
Yeah, I need to eat too. I had some extra.
BOB
Thank you.
(Awkward silence.)
How are things working out for you here?
MIKE
Not bad. It's kinda mindless, you know, the work? A zombie could do it.
BOB
If you say so.
MIKE
You look familiar.
BOB
I'm sure I do.
MIKE
Do I know you?
BOB
You might.
MIKE
How long have you been here?
BOB
Not long.
MIKE
Sleep here?
BOB
Yes.
MIKE
You live here?
BOB
For the present.
MIKE
How long?
BOB
Not very.
MIKE
Why here?
BOB
What does it matter? What's with all the questions?
MIKE
Just curious. You know the manager thinks this place is haunted? Has anyone ever told you that you look just like... forget it.
BOB
What?
MIKE
Nothing.
BOB
You were saying I look like someone. Who do I look like?
MIKE
Uh, it's more of a resemblance.
BOB
Who do I resemble, then?
MIKE
It's silly. You're a dead ringer for Mark Twain.
BOB
Mark Twain?
MIKE
Yeah, he's an author. He wrote Huckleberry Finn. Tom Sawyer.
BOB
I know who Mark Twain is. I can read, books, even.
MIKE
I wasn't trying to imply-
BOB
No? His real name was Samuel Langhorne Clemens. He once said, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco".
MIKE
Okay, I'm sorry. But it's uncanny. You could get paid to show up at parties and be Mark Twain. You could be a professional Mark Twain Impersonator.
BOB
There's probably not a big future in that line of work.
(Awkward silence.)
What are you doing here?
MIKE
Shouldn't I be asking you that question?
BOB
Don't answer a question with a question! That's annoying. What are you doing here?
MIKE
What do you... I don't understand the question.
BOB
You college educated, Mikey? Yes? Grad School? Med School? Law School? (MIKE flinches.)
Law School, hmm. How did you do? Pass the BAR? Failed it? What are you doing working here, in a place like this? Why are you stacking boxes of bags for minimum wage? What are you hiding from?
MIKE
Who are you?
BOB
I'm Mark Clemens! I'm Samuel Twain.
MIKE
No, I mean-
BOB
I'm a ghost! I'm Bob!
(Pause.)
Still wet the bed, Mikey? How are those nightmares treating you?
MIKE
That's an odd question!
BOB
Do you? Wet the bed, I mean?
MIKE
(Sarcastic.)
No, I kicked that habit along time ago.
BOB
Not so long as all that, huh? Sixteen years old.
MIKE
What?
BOB
Nothing. Forget I said anything. So, 'The House of Bags', huh?
MIKE
It's a living.
BOB
There's not much glory in the bag business.
MIKE
That's fine by me.
BOB
Come on, don't you want more?
MIKE
(Defensive.)
What do you do?
BOB
A little of this, a little of that. Freelance. I'm my own boss.
MIKE
It must be nice.
BOB
There's worse things in the world. How's the marriage?
MIKE
It's good. She's great.
(Pause.)
How did you know I was married?
BOB
I've noticed you don't wear the ring to work.
MIKE
I don't want to lose it. What business is it of yours, anyway?
BOB
It's not.
MIKE
Who are you?
BOB
Just me. Little, old, hungry me. (BOB starts to exit off the way he came.) Better be going.
MIKE
Wait. Jeez, you really do look like Mark Twain. It's eery!
BOB
You've got to learn to focus. You're obsessed. Thanks for the sandwich. (BOB exits. MIKE just stares after him for a moment. DEB enters holding a phone.)
DEB
Hope I'm not interrupting. Here.
MIKE
What's this?
DEB
It's a phone.
MIKE
I know that, why are you giving it to me?
DEB
Well, as it turns out it didn't magically disappear. Herman, he's the young man with the glasses behind the counter, apparently borrowed it for a few days.
MIKE
He borrowed the phone?
DEB
Don't ask me, I'm not very happy with him right now. I don't understand these college kids. Looks like Bob didn't steal it. I guess there's no such thing as ghosts. Well, carry on. (She exits. Lights fade.)
// posted by T. Cobb @ 10:20 AM 
