A play part one - Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community

thejoker130 · 09-10-2003, 02:11 PM

I'm not very good with poetry but i am a pretty good writer (i think) when it comes to plays this one took me a long time to do. so, i hope you like.

ps this isnt massive as plays go but it is pretty F'n long so i'm gonna post it in installments

********

Fathers Love

(Sarah is sitting in a chair, speaking into her telephone. On the far opposite end of the stage sits her therapist. Mephistopheles stands behind the therapist with one hand on his shoulder. Mephistopheles is standing perfectly still, staring out at the back of the theater. The therapist’s speech and movement should be very reminiscent of a puppet on strings.)

SARAH: That’s crazy!

THERAPIST: Sarah, numerous scientific studies into the subject tell us that dreams DO represent what our brain “thinks” about concerning information stored in our memory.

SARAH: But what’s so important about these things? Why do I have these same dreams over and over again?

THERAPIST: Sarah, the fact that these dreams reoccur every night is quite significant. (short pause) I think you have some repressed memories from your childhood.

SARAH: (angered) Of COURSE I have suppressed memories from my childhood. I can’t even REMEMBER my childhood!

THERAPIST: Now Sarah, there’s no need to get angry about this. I am a professional, after all.

SARAH: Some professional you are! Three years of therapy and what do I have to show for it?! Piles of unpaid bills because I’m afraid to leave the house to get a decent job, getting my groceries delivered by that snot-nosed kid down the lane who stands outside my house everyday singing “Sarah’s arachnophobic!”… Stupid kid’s not even smart enough to know the difference between ‘arachnophobic’ and what’s really wrong with me!

THERAPIST: Sarah, we’ve talked about your agoraphobia and I thought we were making progress. I thought you were going out to get your groceries now.

SARAH: How the hell would you know? You’ve never seen me. I’m just a voice on the phone to you!

THERAPIST: Now Sarah—

SARAH: (sigh) Look, I’m sorry but I… Why don’t we talk about something else? Something that really matters. I woke up this morning and the first thing I saw was that damn bulletin board. There were more headlines today, and I can’t remember putting them up.

THERAPISTS: More headlines about fires in town?

SARAH: Yes. This last one was across the way from Doctor’s Steven’s house. This time, two boys and their mother were killed. The one before that was across from the Lutheran church. Three couples were killed in that one. If you’re such a professional, tell me why I can’t put these articles down. Why am I so obsessed with them? Why?

THERAPIST: I was thinking about that, and I feel that it may have something to do with these memories that you’ve been repressing.

(Sarah begins to get more angered than she already was)

SARAH: Again with this repressed memory bullshit! You’re like a broken record. (She pauses, holding her head as if she had a headache) I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to work on my next painting.

THERAPIST: Starting a new painting are we? What is it?

SARAH: I don’t know yet… I guess it will be like all the others, though.

THERAPIST: I saw your pieces at the gallery last week, and I noticed a pattern. There was some element of fire in each and every one of them.

SARAH: Yeah, so?

THERAPIST: I feel your obsession with fire may have something to do with an event that you have tried to hide from yourself.

SARAH: I can’t believe you’re trying to push this repressed memory shit on me again.

THERAPIST: If you could just TRY to remember.

SARAH: I HAVE tried. Every night when I go to sleep, thanks to these damn memory exercises you’ve been giving to me, I wake up every morning covered in sweat, exhausted off my ass. And if that’s not enough, I think so hard I forget I have a cigarette lit and fall asleep. Now, thanks to you, my entire house always smells like smoke.

(Mephistopheles pulls his hand off the therapist’s shoulder. The therapist begins to slowly collapse. He then puts his hand on his forehead, seems very agitated, and mutters “Stubborn bitch…” Quickly, he puts his hand back onto the therapist’s shoulder, who then sits back upright and resumes speaking.)

THERAPIST: We’re getting nowhere like this, Sarah. Why don’t I come over to your house and we can talk face-to-face, over coffee?

SARAH: I’d rather you didn’t.

THERAPIST: Sarah, please. If your therapy is going to go anywhere, you have to start opening up.

SARAH: (exasperated) Alright, fine. If you want to be a visitor at my little house of horrors, fine by me. But I have to clean first.

THERAPIST: That won’t be necessary. I don’t expect the session to run very long. (under his breath) I’m running out of time as it is.

SARAH: What was that?

THERAPIST: Nothing at all. I’ll be over as soon as possible. (he hangs up)

SARAH: Wait a minute, what about my address? (holds the phone out and looks at it) How does he expect to find my house? (slams the phone down) Idiot.

(Mephistopheles takes his hand off the therapist’s shoulder. The therapist slumps over like a discarded puppet.)

MEPHISTOPHELES: Finally! Now I’m getting somewhere.

(Therapist remains on stage. Sarah makes herself busy around the house Mephistopheles grabs a briefcase from beside the therapist’s chair and exits.

PPs: if you like this much let me know so i can know whether or not to post the rest (is a long freekin play i dont wanna take up too much space)

J.R.V.A. · 09-10-2003, 02:42 PM

MORE MORE

Jaron · 09-10-2003, 03:29 PM

I AGREE WITH JRVA :P

NeverBorn · 09-10-2003, 06:10 PM

Joker is a pal of mine, he just read over the response. His exact reaction was to throw his hands over his head and declare.."sweet"

J.R.V.A. · 09-10-2003, 06:54 PM

Well tell him to put his hands down and post more lol

thejoker130 · 09-12-2003, 07:13 AM

Part two

*******

(Mephistopheles casually walks up to Sarah’s door Sarah glances at clock and blows her nose. A knock is heard at the door)

SARAH: That was quick…

(Sarah gets halfway to the door before Mephistopheles opens it and walks in He nods his head to Sarah.)

MEPHISTOPHELES: Sarah.

SARAH: Dr. Wong?

MEPHISTOPHELES: That’s me.

SARAH: You’re ‘Wong’?

MEPHISTOPHELES: Well my mother was Irish.

SARAH: And your father?

MEPHISTOPHELES: Wasn’t. But enough about that, you know why I’m here to talk to you.

SARAH: You sound different than you do over the phone.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Well, technology being what it is nowadays, telephone signals go through all sorts of interference and... and… Oh the hell with this. Sarah, I’m not really your therapist, I’m—

SARAH: (begins to back away, edging towards the phone) Well who the hell are you and why are you in my house?

MEPHISTOPHELES: (straightens himself up to his full height and gives a formal, flourished bow) Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mephistopheles, second level demon of hell, seventh son of Satan, just between Azazel and Damien.

SARAH: WHAT?

MEPHISTOPHELES: Did I stutter? Meh-fih-staw-fell-eeze! Sooon ooooof Saataaan.

(Sarah looks at him)

SARAH: Look, nut job… take what you want and leave.

MEPHISTOPHELES: What if I’m here for you?

(Sarah finally breaks and begins to cry)

SARAH: Please leave me alone. Take whatever you want, just don’t touch me!

MEPHISTOPHELES: Not like THAT. I’ll have you know that I’m engage to a third level demoness who, by the way, has much nicer tits that you. A tail gives you something to hold onto… I’ve noticed you humans don’t have tails.

SARAH: (starting to get hysterical) Yeah, well if you’re a demon, where’s your tail?

MEPHISTOPHELES: I happen to have lost my tail in a bar fight at Gomorrah.

SARAH: And your horns?

MEPHISTOPHELES: (sighs) One bad hair day in the eighth century and suddenly, you’ve got horns. Now Sarah the reason I’m here is…

SARAH: Cloven hooves, pitchfork, any of these?

MEPHISTOPHELES: I have hairy legs, so what? And as for the pitchfork… (he pulls a salad fork from his pocket) We’ve gone economy sized to save space and company spending.

SARAH: This is bullshit… you’re some wackjob that escaped from a mental institution, aren’t you?

(Mephistopheles sighs, walks up to Sarah, brushes his fingers over her face. Sarah winces.)

MEPHISTOPHELES: You poor naïve human. You always expect fire and brimstone, and when you just get an eternity of math class, you can’t believe you’re dead.

SARAH: (terrified, but sarcastic) I’m DEAD?

MEPHISTOPHELES: (not noticing) Well, after a fashion.

SARAH: This is… I… No. You’re lying.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Perhaps a demonstration.

(Mephistopheles snaps his fingers. Blackout. Sarah screams. When the lights go back up, Mephistopheles is sitting in her chair.)

SARAH: What the hell was that?!

MEPHISTOPHELES: That? It was our promotional video, so to speak. All I did was show you some footage of our third level. That’s where we put the souls of people like, oh, Hitler… Stalin… Mao Tse Tong… Bill Gates… people like that. Do you like it?

SARAH: My god, this is really happening, isn’t it?

(Mephistopheles winces as she says “God”)

MEPHISTOPHELES: Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.

SARAH: What’s going on? What is all this?

MEPHISTOPHELES: Well, isn’t it OBVIOUS? I’m here for your soul. And I can’t have your soul until you know just why I get to take it.

SARAH: What?

(Mephistopheles pulls out a small black book from his jacket)

MEPHISTOPHELES: Code Seven; Article Four of the Heaven & Hell Treaties, Lines 13 through 35 essentially state that no soul may be taken to hell without knowing the specific reasons of their damnation. And the reason for your damnation is buried there… (he walks up to her, puts a hand on her neck, and taps her forehead) …in those deep recesses of that gibberished thing you call a mind .

SARAH: But..but…I’m not dead! You just can’t take my soul without me being dead first!

MEPHISTOPHELES: Well now Sarah when a boy or girls time has come they…they…oh rot and bugger-it woman you’re dead, just get over it already!

SARAH: Wha! No…No…I’m not dead. I’m alive. I’m alive damnit!

MEPHISTOPHELES: (Mocking) Nooooooo, you’re dead, dead damnit. Don’t believe me? Stop when was the last time you took a breath?

(Pause)

SARAH: no…no…it can’t be…

MEPHISTOPHELES: There, there Sarah; being dead isn’t that bad. Its very restful, no phone calls, and how many people do you know who came back to complain?

SARAH: How…when…

MEPHISTOPHELES: You remember how seeing hell gave you quite a start?

SARAH: (carefully) yeah…

MEPHISTOPHELES: Well it also gave you quite a stop. Imagine a heart attack and at your age…such a shame (shakes head sarcastically)

**

Thank you for liking this... I was real nervous about putting it up. But anyway, sorry i didint post the whole thing yet. I was reading over my last bit and I noticed some stuff I wanted to change around a little. The rest of it should be up soon

J.R.V.A. · 09-12-2003, 07:49 AM

This is very good. Thanks for sharing

Jaron · 09-13-2003, 12:28 AM

Keep on posting.

thejoker130 · 09-22-2003, 11:17 AM

Part Three

sorry it took so long I was working as a volunteer at ceder point this past weekend

*******

SARAH: (crying as she collapses to the floor) What did I do to deserve this?

MEPHISTOPHELES: That’s what I want you to remember... remember? And it’s getting late so hurry up.

SARAH: (trying to choke back tears) You can’t do this to me.

MEPHISTOPHELES: (Distractedly) Yes I can, very easily in fact.... where to put this.... ah. (Sets briefcase down beside Sarah's chair)

SARAH: Goddamn you...

MEPHISTOPHELES: (winces) To late, and don’t use that G word.

SARAH: SHUT UP SHUT UP!!...(Pauses crying).... please shut up.... its not fair, its just not fair. How can you do this to me? (Gets angry) Mephitofurries or whatever the hell your name is!

MEPHISTOPHELES: (slowly) Mephistopheles, and who said life (thinks) who said death was fair? (Sighs) Have you even tried thinking back on your life at all? I know you must have been thinking a little you can’t force yourself not to remember something you know. Forget about why little Billy down the street is afraid of girls because of you. Forget that weed you did in college. And forget what your parents thought when you got arrested for streaking through the old folks home on a bet. Think about what I want you to think about and I mean now!

SARAH: (taken aback) NO! And for your information, I never knew my parents.... I’m an orphan thank you very much.

MEPHISTOPHELES: (smiling) Really? Since when?

SARAH: (pausing) Since I was 13...

MEPHISTOPHELES: What about before that?

SARAH: I...I was...I was in the orphanage a year before I could even remember my name....

MEPHISTOPHELES: You don’t remember anything before that do you?

SARAH: I… no.

MEPHISTOPHELES: Then perhaps these...

(Retrieves briefcase, sets it on the table, opens and pulls out a lighter, rag, and bottle of lighter fluid. He sets them before Sarah and pauses while she glances from one item to the other)

MEPHISTOPHELES: …Will jog some of those memory banks a little

SARAH: (in a small voice) I....

(Silence between them)

MEPHISTOPHELES: Remember any of these do you?

SARAH: (Carefully as if avoiding something) No…

MEPHISTOPHELES: (Sighs, frustrated and pulls a book from his suitcase.) I didn’t want to do this I hate taking people by the hand like this but I‘m running out of time. (He reads in a storybook fashion) Once upon a time there was a happy couple and more than anything they wanted a child they could love and raise in the very best way they could.

(Sarah begins to sob quietly Mephistopheles reads on)

MEPHISTOPHELES: But sadly “The Lord” had chosen not to grant then with a bouncing baby of their own. So one day they decided that they would go down to the orphanage and adopt a poor unfortunate child who was all alone in the world. They finally found a baby who seemed to suit them. A quiet little 6-year-old girl with black hair and burn marks on her arms. After the new fathers mother, they named the little girl Sarah

SARAH: no….

MEPHISTOPHELES: The poor dear had no memory of her real father or mother, which was fortunate for two reasons. The happy new parents wanted little Sarah to be a part of THEIR family and a part of their memories. The other reason was the social worker that handled Sarah’s case had a ghastly story to tell. Sarah’s burn scars had been a gift of her father who ironically was a fireman. His name was Vincent Farnsworth.

SARAH: (pleading) stop…stop it now

MEPHISTOPHELES: I’m getting to the good part (continues) Vincent was a good fireman and a good father as well. At least for a while he was anyway. After each fire he put out he came home with a strange smile on his face. You see Vincent love those fires, the smell, the feel, the strange yet erotic way it danced over charred timber. When he came home he would invariably have to change out of a pair of damp underwear. (Mephistopheles watches Sarah carefully) Vincent loved the fire so much so in fact that he began to go out and start his own fires. Just so he would be able to go inside of them and stare at the wonder of the fire. Vincent didn’t care for the dozens of innocents who died to his madness the only thing that mattered to him was the dance of the fire.
(Sarah is silent; she has even stopped crying)

SARAH: (dead monotone) The fire wasn’t the only thing he loved

MEPHISTOPHELES: Really?

SARAH: He loved showing the fire to his wife, and his daughter.

SARAH: (without tears strangely quite) I remember now, I remember everything...damn you, damn you.

(she continues talking as if taking up the place in the story where Mephistopheles stopped reading)

Vincent showed the fire to his wife and daughter many times. Every other day the wife and child wound up in the hospital for burns of one kind or another.

(Pauses)

Finally mom built the nerve to leave dad. We went to my grandma’s house. But dad followed us there. He decided to give us to the damn fire he loved so much. I remember his laughter even after all these years I remember grandma and mommy, they tried to get me out but the roof fell on them, before she died mommy got herself out of the rubble and threw me out the window. She was so hot; I remember how her hands burned me.

(Pauses as she rubs the burn marks on her hands)

I sat on the front lawn watching the fire burn on and on. It was so beautiful, I knew then why daddy loved it so much. I think it was then that I knew I loved daddy, his fires all of it, I wanted to do anything to show him how much I loved him. When my new parent took me home with them they tried so hard to…wipe those memories from my mind. They tried to take my daddy away from me. When I turned 12 I couldn’t take it any more, they needed to understand they needed to see the fire. So I showed it to them…they still didn’t understand…but I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

MEPHISTOPHELES: (with satirical satisfaction) Oh?

SARAH: Yes, it was so bright and hot and…full…

MEPHISTOPHELES: Full? Why would you call it full?

SARAH: There was so much life in it…as…as though the fire is more alive than anything else, it moves, it thinks, breaths…consumes…it takes so much…so much…

MEPHISTOPHELES: Like how?

SARAH: Heh, you sound like my shrink…that was you wasn’t it? On the phone all those years… all this time you were leading me to this weren’t you?

MEPHISTOPHELES: (shakes his finger) Don’t put all this into my lap Sarah I didn’t lead you to this. You led yourself to this and you know it. That brain probing sado-masochistic, pedophile was taking to long, I just gave him…a few suggestions.

SARAH: (silent) all those fires, all those deaths in town…it was me wasn’t it? Those dreams they were memories weren’t they?

MEPHISTOPHELES: Freud always said to listen to your dreams…He says something different now…something along the lines of “GOTT GOTT GOTT!!!! HOT, HOT, HOT!!!!” but I digress. Yes, dreams can be conduits into memories occasionally; sometimes they can even predict the future.

SARAH: (quietly) oh god…

MEPHISTOPHELES: I don’t know what He has to do with it! The way I understand it, dreams are the brains attempted interpretation of random firings of nerve cells in the brain and…and… Well… OK maybe He does have something to do with it. (He addresses the universe in general) But nobody tell him I said so! His head is big enough already!!!

SARAH: (begins to laugh sadly) would it help to say I’m sorry?

MEPHISTOPHELES: (looks at Sarah thoughtfully for a minute) My father said the same thing you know…

SARAH (quiet)

MEPHISTOPHELES: He told me once why he tried to take the thrown…he said “We show love to our fathers by displaying our accomplishments” later when he thought no one was around I hid behind some brimstone I heard him crying and he said “And the greatest joy a father is supposed to feel is seeing their own child surpass them. Why Father? Why?”…

(Both are silent)

MEPHISTOPHELES: But enough of that. It is time little girl. Your father is waiting for you…
Are you ready?

SARAH: Yes…Yes, I’m ready.

(They begin to walk offstage as the lights go out, Sarah leaning into Mephistopheles as he places an arm around her waist and leads her out)

chavos · 09-22-2003, 11:28 AM

i don't have time to read this all now, which pains me...but this line just cracked me up like nothing else.

Quote:

MEPHISTOPHELES: Did I stutter? Meh-fih-staw-fell-eeze! Sooon ooooof Saataaan.

You have great images, wonderful absurdist comedy...a very talented work. i'd love to see this develop. thank you letting us read...

thejoker130 · 10-09-2003, 12:27 PM

Thanks everybody who read this.

09-10-2003, 02:11 PM	#1 (permalink)
thejoker130 Insane Location: slippery rock university AKA: The left ass cheek of the world	A play part one I'm not very good with poetry but i am a pretty good writer (i think) when it comes to plays this one took me a long time to do. so, i hope you like. ps this isnt massive as plays go but it is pretty F'n long so i'm gonna post it in installments ******** Fathers Love (Sarah is sitting in a chair, speaking into her telephone. On the far opposite end of the stage sits her therapist. Mephistopheles stands behind the therapist with one hand on his shoulder. Mephistopheles is standing perfectly still, staring out at the back of the theater. The therapist’s speech and movement should be very reminiscent of a puppet on strings.) SARAH: That’s crazy! THERAPIST: Sarah, numerous scientific studies into the subject tell us that dreams DO represent what our brain “thinks” about concerning information stored in our memory. SARAH: But what’s so important about these things? Why do I have these same dreams over and over again? THERAPIST: Sarah, the fact that these dreams reoccur every night is quite significant. (short pause) I think you have some repressed memories from your childhood. SARAH: (angered) Of COURSE I have suppressed memories from my childhood. I can’t even REMEMBER my childhood! THERAPIST: Now Sarah, there’s no need to get angry about this. I am a professional, after all. SARAH: Some professional you are! Three years of therapy and what do I have to show for it?! Piles of unpaid bills because I’m afraid to leave the house to get a decent job, getting my groceries delivered by that snot-nosed kid down the lane who stands outside my house everyday singing “Sarah’s arachnophobic!”… Stupid kid’s not even smart enough to know the difference between ‘arachnophobic’ and what’s really wrong with me! THERAPIST: Sarah, we’ve talked about your agoraphobia and I thought we were making progress. I thought you were going out to get your groceries now. SARAH: How the hell would you know? You’ve never seen me. I’m just a voice on the phone to you! THERAPIST: Now Sarah— SARAH: (sigh) Look, I’m sorry but I… Why don’t we talk about something else? Something that really matters. I woke up this morning and the first thing I saw was that damn bulletin board. There were more headlines today, and I can’t remember putting them up. THERAPISTS: More headlines about fires in town? SARAH: Yes. This last one was across the way from Doctor’s Steven’s house. This time, two boys and their mother were killed. The one before that was across from the Lutheran church. Three couples were killed in that one. If you’re such a professional, tell me why I can’t put these articles down. Why am I so obsessed with them? Why? THERAPIST: I was thinking about that, and I feel that it may have something to do with these memories that you’ve been repressing. (Sarah begins to get more angered than she already was) SARAH: Again with this repressed memory bullshit! You’re like a broken record. (She pauses, holding her head as if she had a headache) I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to work on my next painting. THERAPIST: Starting a new painting are we? What is it? SARAH: I don’t know yet… I guess it will be like all the others, though. THERAPIST: I saw your pieces at the gallery last week, and I noticed a pattern. There was some element of fire in each and every one of them. SARAH: Yeah, so? THERAPIST: I feel your obsession with fire may have something to do with an event that you have tried to hide from yourself. SARAH: I can’t believe you’re trying to push this repressed memory shit on me again. THERAPIST: If you could just TRY to remember. SARAH: I HAVE tried. Every night when I go to sleep, thanks to these damn memory exercises you’ve been giving to me, I wake up every morning covered in sweat, exhausted off my ass. And if that’s not enough, I think so hard I forget I have a cigarette lit and fall asleep. Now, thanks to you, my entire house always smells like smoke. (Mephistopheles pulls his hand off the therapist’s shoulder. The therapist begins to slowly collapse. He then puts his hand on his forehead, seems very agitated, and mutters “Stubborn bitch…” Quickly, he puts his hand back onto the therapist’s shoulder, who then sits back upright and resumes speaking.) THERAPIST: We’re getting nowhere like this, Sarah. Why don’t I come over to your house and we can talk face-to-face, over coffee? SARAH: I’d rather you didn’t. THERAPIST: Sarah, please. If your therapy is going to go anywhere, you have to start opening up. SARAH: (exasperated) Alright, fine. If you want to be a visitor at my little house of horrors, fine by me. But I have to clean first. THERAPIST: That won’t be necessary. I don’t expect the session to run very long. (under his breath) I’m running out of time as it is. SARAH: What was that? THERAPIST: Nothing at all. I’ll be over as soon as possible. (he hangs up) SARAH: Wait a minute, what about my address? (holds the phone out and looks at it) How does he expect to find my house? (slams the phone down) Idiot. (Mephistopheles takes his hand off the therapist’s shoulder. The therapist slumps over like a discarded puppet.) MEPHISTOPHELES: Finally! Now I’m getting somewhere. (Therapist remains on stage. Sarah makes herself busy around the house Mephistopheles grabs a briefcase from beside the therapist’s chair and exits. PPs: if you like this much let me know so i can know whether or not to post the rest (is a long freekin play i dont wanna take up too much space) Last edited by thejoker130; 09-10-2003 at 02:16 PM..

09-10-2003, 02:42 PM	#2 (permalink)
J.R.V.A. Junkie Location: Utah	MORE MORE __________________ And as she plays, her sweet song of laughter floats through the air and warms my heart

09-10-2003, 06:54 PM	#5 (permalink)
J.R.V.A. Junkie Location: Utah	Well tell him to put his hands down and post more lol __________________ And as she plays, her sweet song of laughter floats through the air and warms my heart

09-12-2003, 07:13 AM	#6 (permalink)
thejoker130 Insane Location: slippery rock university AKA: The left ass cheek of the world	Part two ***** (Mephistopheles casually walks up to Sarah’s door Sarah glances at clock and blows her nose. A knock is heard at the door) SARAH: That was quick… (Sarah gets halfway to the door before Mephistopheles opens it and walks in He nods his head to Sarah.) MEPHISTOPHELES: Sarah. SARAH: Dr. Wong? MEPHISTOPHELES: That’s me. SARAH: You’re ‘Wong’? MEPHISTOPHELES: Well my mother was Irish. SARAH: And your father? MEPHISTOPHELES: Wasn’t. But enough about that, you know why I’m here to talk to you. SARAH: You sound different than you do over the phone. MEPHISTOPHELES: Well, technology being what it is nowadays, telephone signals go through all sorts of interference and... and… Oh the hell with this. Sarah, I’m not really your therapist, I’m— SARAH: (begins to back away, edging towards the phone) Well who the hell are you and why are you in my house? MEPHISTOPHELES: (straightens himself up to his full height and gives a formal, flourished bow) Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mephistopheles, second level demon of hell, seventh son of Satan, just between Azazel and Damien. SARAH: WHAT? MEPHISTOPHELES: Did I stutter? Meh-fih-staw-fell-eeze! Sooon ooooof Saataaan. (Sarah looks at him) SARAH: Look, nut job… take what you want and leave. MEPHISTOPHELES: What if I’m here for you? (Sarah finally breaks and begins to cry) SARAH: Please leave me alone. Take whatever you want, just don’t touch me! MEPHISTOPHELES: Not like THAT. I’ll have you know that I’m engage to a third level demoness who, by the way, has much nicer tits that you. A tail gives you something to hold onto… I’ve noticed you humans don’t have tails. SARAH: (starting to get hysterical) Yeah, well if you’re a demon, where’s your tail? MEPHISTOPHELES: I happen to have lost my tail in a bar fight at Gomorrah. SARAH: And your horns? MEPHISTOPHELES: (sighs) One bad hair day in the eighth century and suddenly, you’ve got horns. Now Sarah the reason I’m here is… SARAH: Cloven hooves, pitchfork, any of these? MEPHISTOPHELES: I have hairy legs, so what? And as for the pitchfork… (he pulls a salad fork from his pocket) We’ve gone economy sized to save space and company spending. SARAH: This is bullshit… you’re some wackjob that escaped from a mental institution, aren’t you? (Mephistopheles sighs, walks up to Sarah, brushes his fingers over her face. Sarah winces.) MEPHISTOPHELES: You poor naïve human. You always expect fire and brimstone, and when you just get an eternity of math class, you can’t believe you’re dead. SARAH: (terrified, but sarcastic) I’m DEAD? MEPHISTOPHELES: (not noticing) Well, after a fashion. SARAH: This is… I… No. You’re lying. MEPHISTOPHELES: Perhaps a demonstration. (Mephistopheles snaps his fingers. Blackout. Sarah screams. When the lights go back up, Mephistopheles is sitting in her chair.) SARAH: What the hell was that?! MEPHISTOPHELES: That? It was our promotional video, so to speak. All I did was show you some footage of our third level. That’s where we put the souls of people like, oh, Hitler… Stalin… Mao Tse Tong… Bill Gates… people like that. Do you like it? SARAH: My god, this is really happening, isn’t it? (Mephistopheles winces as she says “God”) MEPHISTOPHELES: Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. SARAH: What’s going on? What is all this? MEPHISTOPHELES: Well, isn’t it OBVIOUS? I’m here for your soul. And I can’t have your soul until you know just why I get to take it. SARAH: What? (Mephistopheles pulls out a small black book from his jacket) MEPHISTOPHELES: Code Seven; Article Four of the Heaven & Hell Treaties, Lines 13 through 35 essentially state that no soul may be taken to hell without knowing the specific reasons of their damnation. And the reason for your damnation is buried there… (he walks up to her, puts a hand on her neck, and taps her forehead) …in those deep recesses of that gibberished thing you call a mind . SARAH: But..but…I’m not dead! You just can’t take my soul without me being dead first! MEPHISTOPHELES: Well now Sarah when a boy or girls time has come they…they…oh rot and bugger-it woman you’re dead, just get over it already! SARAH: Wha! No…No…I’m not dead. I’m alive. I’m alive damnit! MEPHISTOPHELES: (Mocking) Nooooooo, you’re dead, dead damnit. Don’t believe me? Stop when was the last time you took a breath? (Pause) SARAH: no…no…it can’t be… MEPHISTOPHELES: There, there Sarah; being dead isn’t that bad. Its very restful, no phone calls, and how many people do you know who came back to complain? SARAH: How…when… MEPHISTOPHELES: You remember how seeing hell gave you quite a start? SARAH: (carefully) yeah… MEPHISTOPHELES: Well it also gave you quite a stop. Imagine a heart attack and at your age…such a shame (shakes head sarcastically) Thank you for liking this... I was real nervous about putting it up. But anyway, sorry i didint post the whole thing yet. I was reading over my last bit and I noticed some stuff I wanted to change around a little. The rest of it should be up soon __________________ WHAT MORE CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN? ------------------------------------- I like you. When the world is mine your death will be quick and painless. Last edited by thejoker130; 09-12-2003 at 07:51 AM..

09-12-2003, 07:49 AM	#7 (permalink)
J.R.V.A. Junkie Location: Utah	This is very good. Thanks for sharing __________________ And as she plays, her sweet song of laughter floats through the air and warms my heart

09-10-2003, 03:29 PM	#3 (permalink)
Jaron Crazy Location: Hong Kong.	I AGREE WITH JRVA :P

09-10-2003, 06:10 PM	#4 (permalink)
NeverBorn I'm a pepper bitch..	Joker is a pal of mine, he just read over the response. His exact reaction was to throw his hands over his head and declare.."sweet"

09-13-2003, 12:28 AM	#8 (permalink)
Jaron Crazy Location: Hong Kong.	Keep on posting.

09-22-2003, 11:17 AM	#9 (permalink)
thejoker130 Insane Location: slippery rock university AKA: The left ass cheek of the world	Part Three sorry it took so long I was working as a volunteer at ceder point this past weekend ******* SARAH: (crying as she collapses to the floor) What did I do to deserve this? MEPHISTOPHELES: That’s what I want you to remember... remember? And it’s getting late so hurry up. SARAH: (trying to choke back tears) You can’t do this to me. MEPHISTOPHELES: (Distractedly) Yes I can, very easily in fact.... where to put this.... ah. (Sets briefcase down beside Sarah's chair) SARAH: Goddamn you... MEPHISTOPHELES: (winces) To late, and don’t use that G word. SARAH: SHUT UP SHUT UP!!...(Pauses crying).... please shut up.... its not fair, its just not fair. How can you do this to me? (Gets angry) Mephitofurries or whatever the hell your name is! MEPHISTOPHELES: (slowly) Mephistopheles, and who said life (thinks) who said death was fair? (Sighs) Have you even tried thinking back on your life at all? I know you must have been thinking a little you can’t force yourself not to remember something you know. Forget about why little Billy down the street is afraid of girls because of you. Forget that weed you did in college. And forget what your parents thought when you got arrested for streaking through the old folks home on a bet. Think about what I want you to think about and I mean now! SARAH: (taken aback) NO! And for your information, I never knew my parents.... I’m an orphan thank you very much. MEPHISTOPHELES: (smiling) Really? Since when? SARAH: (pausing) Since I was 13... MEPHISTOPHELES: What about before that? SARAH: I...I was...I was in the orphanage a year before I could even remember my name.... MEPHISTOPHELES: You don’t remember anything before that do you? SARAH: I… no. MEPHISTOPHELES: Then perhaps these... (Retrieves briefcase, sets it on the table, opens and pulls out a lighter, rag, and bottle of lighter fluid. He sets them before Sarah and pauses while she glances from one item to the other) MEPHISTOPHELES: …Will jog some of those memory banks a little SARAH: (in a small voice) I.... (Silence between them) MEPHISTOPHELES: Remember any of these do you? SARAH: (Carefully as if avoiding something) No… MEPHISTOPHELES: (Sighs, frustrated and pulls a book from his suitcase.) I didn’t want to do this I hate taking people by the hand like this but I‘m running out of time. (He reads in a storybook fashion) Once upon a time there was a happy couple and more than anything they wanted a child they could love and raise in the very best way they could. (Sarah begins to sob quietly Mephistopheles reads on) MEPHISTOPHELES: But sadly “The Lord” had chosen not to grant then with a bouncing baby of their own. So one day they decided that they would go down to the orphanage and adopt a poor unfortunate child who was all alone in the world. They finally found a baby who seemed to suit them. A quiet little 6-year-old girl with black hair and burn marks on her arms. After the new fathers mother, they named the little girl Sarah SARAH: no…. MEPHISTOPHELES: The poor dear had no memory of her real father or mother, which was fortunate for two reasons. The happy new parents wanted little Sarah to be a part of THEIR family and a part of their memories. The other reason was the social worker that handled Sarah’s case had a ghastly story to tell. Sarah’s burn scars had been a gift of her father who ironically was a fireman. His name was Vincent Farnsworth. SARAH: (pleading) stop…stop it now MEPHISTOPHELES: I’m getting to the good part (continues) Vincent was a good fireman and a good father as well. At least for a while he was anyway. After each fire he put out he came home with a strange smile on his face. You see Vincent love those fires, the smell, the feel, the strange yet erotic way it danced over charred timber. When he came home he would invariably have to change out of a pair of damp underwear. (Mephistopheles watches Sarah carefully) Vincent loved the fire so much so in fact that he began to go out and start his own fires. Just so he would be able to go inside of them and stare at the wonder of the fire. Vincent didn’t care for the dozens of innocents who died to his madness the only thing that mattered to him was the dance of the fire. (Sarah is silent; she has even stopped crying) SARAH: (dead monotone) The fire wasn’t the only thing he loved MEPHISTOPHELES: Really? SARAH: He loved showing the fire to his wife, and his daughter. SARAH: (without tears strangely quite) I remember now, I remember everything...damn you, damn you. (she continues talking as if taking up the place in the story where Mephistopheles stopped reading) Vincent showed the fire to his wife and daughter many times. Every other day the wife and child wound up in the hospital for burns of one kind or another. (Pauses) Finally mom built the nerve to leave dad. We went to my grandma’s house. But dad followed us there. He decided to give us to the damn fire he loved so much. I remember his laughter even after all these years I remember grandma and mommy, they tried to get me out but the roof fell on them, before she died mommy got herself out of the rubble and threw me out the window. She was so hot; I remember how her hands burned me. (Pauses as she rubs the burn marks on her hands) I sat on the front lawn watching the fire burn on and on. It was so beautiful, I knew then why daddy loved it so much. I think it was then that I knew I loved daddy, his fires all of it, I wanted to do anything to show him how much I loved him. When my new parent took me home with them they tried so hard to…wipe those memories from my mind. They tried to take my daddy away from me. When I turned 12 I couldn’t take it any more, they needed to understand they needed to see the fire. So I showed it to them…they still didn’t understand…but I’d never seen anything so beautiful. MEPHISTOPHELES: (with satirical satisfaction) Oh? SARAH: Yes, it was so bright and hot and…full… MEPHISTOPHELES: Full? Why would you call it full? SARAH: There was so much life in it…as…as though the fire is more alive than anything else, it moves, it thinks, breaths…consumes…it takes so much…so much… MEPHISTOPHELES: Like how? SARAH: Heh, you sound like my shrink…that was you wasn’t it? On the phone all those years… all this time you were leading me to this weren’t you? MEPHISTOPHELES: (shakes his finger) Don’t put all this into my lap Sarah I didn’t lead you to this. You led yourself to this and you know it. That brain probing sado-masochistic, pedophile was taking to long, I just gave him…a few suggestions. SARAH: (silent) all those fires, all those deaths in town…it was me wasn’t it? Those dreams they were memories weren’t they? MEPHISTOPHELES: Freud always said to listen to your dreams…He says something different now…something along the lines of “GOTT GOTT GOTT!!!! HOT, HOT, HOT!!!!” but I digress. Yes, dreams can be conduits into memories occasionally; sometimes they can even predict the future. SARAH: (quietly) oh god… MEPHISTOPHELES: I don’t know what He has to do with it! The way I understand it, dreams are the brains attempted interpretation of random firings of nerve cells in the brain and…and… Well… OK maybe He does have something to do with it. (He addresses the universe in general) But nobody tell him I said so! His head is big enough already!!! SARAH: (begins to laugh sadly) would it help to say I’m sorry? MEPHISTOPHELES: (looks at Sarah thoughtfully for a minute) My father said the same thing you know… SARAH (quiet) MEPHISTOPHELES: He told me once why he tried to take the thrown…he said “We show love to our fathers by displaying our accomplishments” later when he thought no one was around I hid behind some brimstone I heard him crying and he said “And the greatest joy a father is supposed to feel is seeing their own child surpass them. Why Father? Why?”… (Both are silent) MEPHISTOPHELES: But enough of that. It is time little girl. Your father is waiting for you… Are you ready? SARAH: Yes…Yes, I’m ready. (They begin to walk offstage as the lights go out, Sarah leaning into Mephistopheles as he places an arm around her waist and leads her out) __________________ WHAT MORE CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN? ------------------------------------- I like you. When the world is mine your death will be quick and painless.

10-09-2003, 12:27 PM	#11 (permalink)
thejoker130 Insane Location: slippery rock university AKA: The left ass cheek of the world	Thanks everybody who read this. __________________ WHAT MORE CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN? ------------------------------------- I like you. When the world is mine your death will be quick and painless.