Migration: A Short Play

Characters
A
B
The characters are nameless to the audience and to each other.

We see the interior, anterior view of a car. A enters SL, quite upset, and gets in the driver’s seat of the car. He starts the car, blasts some ridiculous “rage” music, and races away. All of the motions of the car are portrayed through the actors, lighting, and sound effects; of course, the set piece is stationary and can be represented by something as simple as a couple of chairs or as complex as actual pieces of an automobile. Suddenly B rises out of the back seat and sticks a gun to A’s temple…


B (shouting over the music) Pull over!

A Shit!

B Pull the car over and…get the fuck out!!

A (tries to turn around, but his head is forcibly jerked forward by B) What the hell is--?

B Turn the music down!

A Wha--?

B TURN THE MUSIC OFF!!


(A fumbles to turn the music off, but swerves to avoid heading off the road. Finally B leans forward and shuts it off.)


A Is this some sort of weird sex thing? This is really funny, Timmy--

B (Jams gun into A’s temple, hard) Pull over, now!

A You’re shittin’ me!

B Do what I say, man, or your brains are gonna be splattered on that window real quick!

A (Laughs wildly) Oh, please do! You don’t know what a blessing this is. (Starts to cry) Do us both a favor and pull the trigger--then I don’t have to do it myself! Really, thank you! (B starts to pull the gun away, an expression of ‘this-wasn’t-supposed-to-happen’ on his face.) Thank you so much--hey, good timing! (A prepares himself) What are you waiting for? I’M READY!! HURRY!! Do it, do it , DO I--!!

B Shut the fuck up! What, are you crazy? Jesus, man, just let me out…pull over and let me out right here!!

A You’re not gonna shoot me?! Don’t get my hopes up—(turns to look at B)

B Don’t look at me! Just pull over and we’ll pretend like this never happened. You can go get yourself some help.

A (Sobbing) Oh…just do it. The truth is, I’m too pussy to do it myself. So DO IT!

B I’m jumping!


(As B opens the back door, A speeds up)


A (Laughing maniacally) Oh no, buddy! You’re in this for the ride.

B (Considers risking it) Jesus! (Shuts the door) Slow down, man. (Ironically) We can work through this.

A You don’t shoot me soon, I’m gonna crash and kill us both.

B (Rolls down back window and tosses gun out) There! Gun, out the window—it’s gone. Can’t shoot y--.


(A starts to swerve like he’s going to crash the car)


B (Jumping forward to grab the wheel, ending up in the front seat with A) Shit! Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re gonna kill us!

A Uh huh.

B (Hits A in the face, and takes complete control of the wheel) What the fuck is wrong with you?!

A (Pause) Long story. (A seems to have gained control)

B (Letting go of the wheel slowly) You okay?

A Nope.

B I mean, did you get rid of your urge to run us into a ditch? Can I let go of the wheel and plan on living?

A I have a lot of crazy urges…I just usually don’t act on them. (Pause. B leans back in passenger seat to catch his breath) Who are you? Why are you in my car?

B I don’t know….Crazy urge…I just usually don’t act on them.

A Why my car? That parking lot was full of cars, most of them a lot nicer than this piece of shit. Did that asshole set you up to this?

B (Reassuring) No one set me up to this—except maybe my wife—it was just random. And your car was the only one I could find that was unlocked. Now, that all cleared up, I’ll just let you get on with your night, okay? Forget this whole thing ever happened.

A Your wife? Oh, are you a gay Republican?

B Hey, you wanna pull over and just let me out here? I’m sorry about all this—

A Uh-uh, we’re Thelma and Louisin’ it now, baby. (Grabs B’s hand, Thelma and Louise style, which B quickly jerks away) Takin’ this highway all the way to Mexico…or Canada, or where ever the hell direction we’re going. You’re my hostage now. I really don’t think I should be alone right now anyway. Do you? Besides, I wanna know why your wife wants me dead. I don’t usually make a habit of dating married men.

B She’s just….She doesn’t know you, I don’t know you. Buddy, I made a mistake. Just let me out here, okay?

A (Not giving up) Oh my God, you are a gay Republican. A closeted, homophobic, married, gay Republican. With a crazy ass wife who has you whipped!

B (After a second) I am not…”whipped”.

A Mmmmm hmmmmmmm.

B I’m not gay either!

A You are a Republican though. I can tell. The gun gave it away.

B Look, that wasn’t even a real gun. Okay? I am really really sorry about this, if you let me out now, I will…compensate you for your…mental anguish. Okay?

A I had a sugar daddy once who said that to me.

B (After a moment) You know how we were talking about “crazy urges”?

A Yeah.

B Well, I’ve been getting them more and more lately. Like, I’ll be at the bank…(Catching himself) Why the fuck am I telling you this?

A Because I’m a fantastic listener—(Underhandedly) plus I’m getting a kick out of it.

B I’ll be at the bank and I’ll see the security cameras, and the snotty little tellers, and the orderly line of drones ahead of me waiting so patiently; and I just want to yell, “Everybody get the fuck down!! I’ve got a gun!” Now I’ve never actually had a gun—until today—but I just get that urge and it takes everything I have to suppress it.

A So you’re a closet criminal too.

B No, there’re all sorts of urges…like when I’m up on the scaffolding at work—I’ll be up there like 50 or 60 feet—and I just get the strongest impulse to take a swan dive into the pavement.

A Okay.

B No, seriously. I’ll sit there and envision it in my head, and I can feel my body right on the brink of jumping over the railing and falling. It’s nothing suicidal or anything (no offense)—but I have to hold onto the railing as tightly as I can because I’m afraid that I actually might do it. That I actually might jump. Isn’t that crazy?

A Oh, everybody gets that impulse when they’re up high. It’s human nature.

B Well, today…I followed through.

A You jumped?

B I gave in to one of my insane impulses. I found that toy gun in the parking lot and had the urge to…do something with it. And when I found your unlocked car—you really should start locking your car—

A (Facetiously) Such sage advice…coming from a crazy man with a gun.

B Anyway, I sat here and waited for you to come out. I was only here for five minutes. (Accusingly) If you would have given me more time I probably would have changed my mind.

A (Pause. A can think of nothing to say) I’m sorry.

B In any case, thanks for listening. It was nice to have somebody listen. I’ll get out now and leave you alone though. (A doesn’t say anything, just keeps on driving) Alright. Why are you so ready to die tonight? Jesus.

A Just a second…first tell me—does your wife know you go to gay bars?

B Huh?

A (Gives B a scrutinizing look.) The bar back there. Neverneverland. The gay bar…

B (Chuckling) Oh my hell. Was that a gay bar?

A (Unconvinced) Yep.


(Silence)


B Hmmph.

A Yeah.

B And that’s why you thought I was…

A Uh-huh.

B Oh, that’s cool. I’ve got gay friends.

A Oh…that’s cool. I’ve got straight friends.

B (Nervous chuckle) So, no luck at the bar tonight, huh?

A Don’t stereotype! I’ve never gone to a bar to get laid!

B I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…

A I use the internet.

B Oh.

A I’m just kidding. Not all gay people cruise for sex, Mr. Sketchball, some of us “out-of-the-closet” types even have morals.., but after tonight I think I may be the only one.

B Why is that?

A I followed my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now…fucker—I followed him to Neverneverland after he told me he was going to see his sister. She’s recovering from a boob job.

B How did you know he was lying?

A He wouldn’t go see her. He was jealous. He wants a nice fat set of tits for himself.

B That’s…cool.

A Jesus, I’m kidding. (A sighs) He’s just been acting really disinterested lately, I haven’t trusted him in a while.

B So he went to a bar…that’s not exactly proof that he’s fucking someone else.

A You obviously don’t know how gay men are. Yeah, he was fucking two someone elses!

B Oh, that son-of-a-bitch!

A And when I ripped his sorry ass away from them…he broke up with me right there—right in front of his slutty little concubines and anyone else who was close enough to hone in on the fag drama of the hour.

B Geez.

A I was just pissed that he didn’t give me the chance to break up with him first! Because I would have!

B I’m sorry, I really am. It’s a shitty thing that people can’t just stay faithful.

A They either can’t keep their dick in their pants, or they’re not willing to admit that it’s been out in the first place.

B What do you mean?

A Weston Woodward.

B Who?

A Whenever he walked across campus there was this wave of wet panties, and I’m sure all the butch jerks that slapped him on the ass in the locker room had naked fantasies about him just like everyone else. Pretty suspicious if you ask me, all the ass slapping that goes on between those athletes. Anyway, in college I used to streak across the football field in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep—

B Really?!

A There was a down to it, just like any high, and it would put me to sleep. So, one night I was running across the field, getting my adrenaline rush at like two a.m. and I heard someone (demonstrates whistle) whistling, like at a pretty lady walking down the street. So I drop to the ground—by instinct. And I look up, and there’s Weston Woodward running toward me, ripping his shirt off and undoing his pants with this huge grin on his face. Now in my fantasy, this would have been totally hot; but in reality I almost pissed all over the grass. I thought he was gonna kick my ass. Then he goes, “Hey, bro, mind if I join you?” I couldn’t answer…all I could do was stare at the monster…p-package that he’d unwrapped right there in front of me. Weston Woodward’s…w-wiener like two feet from my face! And, I couldn’t stand up, (indicating) for obvious reasons, or I would have jumped to my feet and ran for my life. But Weston just stood there and smiled. And before I knew it, he had a…b-boner to match…and, well, things just happened.

B Wow, gay people fascinate me. I wish something like that would have happened to me--with Barbara Stimson! That’s like something straight out of porn!

A Uh-huh. But the worst part of it was that afterward he goes, “Now you tell anyone about this and I’ll break both your arms, bro. Cool?” (B chuckles) Yeah, I’m sure you’ve spoken similar words in your time.

B What do you mean?

A Keep playing dumb.

B Look, if you’re trying to imply that I’m a…

A Oh, get over it. I don’t care! So, anyway, Weston Woodward totally ruined everything, I’d just had a romantic evening with the most sought after…p-penis in school; but I couldn’t brag about it! And it wasn’t special. Not to him anyway. He just wanted to get off, anonymously, then pretend like it never happened. And don’t think the same damn thing hasn’t happened with other guys since then—

B Sounds like being gay has its perks!

A God! Nevermind! I can’t believe I just told you that.

B No, I know what you mean. You just want something meaningful. We all do.

A It’s always got to be a secret with you guys, or you decide you “like girls”, or you’re sticking it in some other guy—or two! I don’t know why gay people have the instinct for sex anyway, it’s like left over from when we evolved from straight people. We’re not popping babies out of our asses or anything. There’s absolutely no reason why we should want to have so much sex.

B Human contact.

A Well, I’m just sick of all the drama that comes with it.

B Well, to tell you the truth, the gay lifestyle doesn’t sound that bad when you compare it to being married to a frigid ice queen.

A Whatever, you’re a guy. I’m sure you have no qualms about finding something warm on a lonely night.

B Well, actually, it’s just the opposite. I came home from work early today and caught her in the kitchen with our doctor…playing doctor with the doctor.

A So you know how it feels…kind of.

B It’s not fair, man, you know?. She’s the one who makes me miserable, I’m supposed to be cheating on her.

A Well—

B Her first husband left her for a man, and I know that’s a sensitive subject for her…

A (Chastising) I guess she knows how to pick ‘em..

B …so I told her I was going to the gay bar to make up for all the sexless nights I’ve had in the past four years.

A And I’m sure it was your very first time too.

B Oh, I couldn’t even go in. I couldn’t really have sex with a guy just to avenge my doctor-fucking wife, I just wanted her to suffer from the thought.

A (Speculating) Sure.

B Dude, no offense, but I don’t like dick! (A shudders, B notices and thinks for a moment.) Cock. Schlong! Tallywhacker!!

A Shut up! Why are you saying that?

B Why do you have such a problem with p-p-penis words?

A What do you mean? If someone is yelling them into my f—

B I mean, like a minute ago, when you were telling your little story, you couldn’t say “penis” or “boner” without sounding like Porky Pig.

A Oh, I guess it’s just a superstitious thing I do—like when people knock on wood—

B No pun intended.

A Shut up. I’ve just had such a hard time with…penises in the past—

B Literally…”hard”--

A Slut! Forget it, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

B Oh, I’m just joking around. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it, huh? So penises have had a traumatic influence on your life. You’re not alone.

A I just don’t ever want to be one of those guys that carries his brain in his pants, you know? So every time the subject comes up I have to stop and check myself to make sure I can still think rationally with the head on my shoulders, and I usually end up stuttering.

B Interesting. Sounds more like an obsessive-compulsive thing than a superstition. Or a little bit of guilt.

A Well, whatever.

B So that’s why you cringed when I said I didn’t like dick?

A I “cringed” because I hate when people use that as a euphemism for being gay. Like that’s all there is to it.

B Well, I’m sorry. I’m “not gay” then, how’s that?

A Well, you wouldn’t like the lifestyle anyway. It’s so…lonely. You know, you’re lucky? I wish I could honestly say that I was sexually attracted to women. I can connect with women perfectly on every level, except for sex. And with men…well, that’s pretty much all it is—sex. There’s not usually an emotional connection. To be honest, I think I feel closer to you than most men I’ve slept with. And it’s usually especially hard for me to connect with straight guys.

B (A little awkwardly) Wow. I’m flattered.

A Don’t act like that. I wasn’t trying to woo you, Juliet…I’m not even attracted to you. I just feel comfortable talking to you for some odd reason. That doesn’t usually happen…I guess we just caught each other at vulnerable moments.

B (Pause.) You’re not attracted to me at all?

A (Pause.) As long as you don’t think I’m lusting after you…I’ll admit that you’re not a bad looking guy.

B Not bad looking, huh?

A Okay, you’re pretty damn attractive…but I can’t think that way about straight guys.

B Am I attractive enough for you to kiss me?

A No!

B Hypothetically.

A …I don’t know…if the situation was right.

B Now?


(Pause.)


A (Looks over at B, small hesitation, then) Fuck you!

B Hey! Don’t get upset…crazy urge. Really crazy urge!

A Crazy urge from your crotch! Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?!! I’m sick of being the test drive.

B Yes, I have been listening. And to be honest, that’s why I want to kiss you.

A God, there hasn’t been one car on this road for miles! I wish we’d pass just one car so I’d know that the two of us weren’t the last two people on Earth.

B You’re a genuinely good person, you know that?

A Well, you’re fucked up!

B Don’t. I mean it, I can tell.

A Yeah? Well, I just wish that’s how the people who mattered felt.

B If they don’t realize that, they have no right being your friend.

A Please…honey! Who do you think you are? You live with all the advantages of a straight, white male in America; and then think you can cash in on our bonuses too. It’s not supposed to work that way. You cannot have your cake and eat it too, okay?

B Um, first of all, if I’ve got some cake in front of me, I’m probably gonna eat it. That’s just a stupid saying. And secondly, I’m not gay. Okay? I was just being nice. A guy can’t win, can he? When you’re a fucking homophobe, you’re ostracized; and when you try to be PC with them they throw a bitch fit.

A Shut up! Oh my God.. I know you’re just saying all that nice shit to me because you’re horny, or you want revenge on your wife, or whatever. I’m so damn sick and tired of everyone being so selfish! God! It’s the fact that the human race is so selfish that makes me feel so lonely, not being gay. No one thinks about how other people feel or what other people want. Hell, just a minute ago you were holding a gun to my head just because you “felt like it”! For what? Not for me! Not for your wife! For you! For you and your stupid, fucking “impulses”.

B Just a minute ago you wanted to kill yourself!! (Pause) I stayed in here with you because I didn’t want that to happen--to you. It had nothing to do with me.

A You stayed in here because I wouldn’t let you out. Which was selfish of me. And you only talked to my sorry ass so you wouldn’t have a guilty conscience. Watching the morning news, some story on the suicidal car crash of another nameless fag, thinking, “I guess I probably could have stopped that.” Selfish.


(B leans over and kisses A on the cheek.)


B Stop feeling so sorry for yourself and live a little.


(Pause. A turns his head and plants one on B. THEY kiss passionately for a moment. Then suddenly we hear screeching tires, a horn honking, and see a flash of headlights. A and B jerk apart, and A manages to regain control of the car. BOTH are wide-eyed and jolted.)


A The only other car we’ve passed, and it has to pass when we’re on the wrong side of the road.

B Isn’t that the way it is?


(Uncomfortable silence)


B Man, there’s the sun, coming up already. (A glances at B’s crotch, then realizes he really is talking about the sun. More silence) Look, we can just pretend like that didn’t happen.

A I’ve gotten really good at pretending like nothing’s happened. Not to worry.

B No. It’s not like that. I’m not Weston Woodie—or whatever his name was.

A Woodward.

B It wasn’t sexual for me. Okay?...It was…spiritual.


(Pause. A begins to chuckle.)


A I don’t think I’ve ever heard a straight guy use the word “spiritual”. So “spiritual” it almost killed us. (THEY both laugh)

B I’d forgotten how unpredictable you can be at the wheel.

A Well, I’m sorry I don’t have an eyeball in my ear. But kissing aside—have you ever thought about how vulnerable you are in the passenger seat of a car. Speeding 65 miles per hour down the highway, your life literally in the hands of the driver. One wrong swerve or jerk or…

B Man, you’re starting to freak me out.

A No, listen. Think about how much trust you have in me right now, otherwise the anxiety would drive you crazy. I have so much power. (Chuckles)

B It’s a risk we take all the time, or else we’d never get anywhere.

A Uh oh, I’m starting to get another crazy urge! (A starts swerving and laughing)

B Hey! Cut it out!

A (Laughing) I’m only giving you shit. Keep your panties on.


(We hear a tiny thud, A and B snap their attention toward the ‘windshield’.)


A What was that?

B Sounds like you hit a bug. A big bug. (Squints at the windshield) Pull over really quick, I want to see what it is. It’s still too dark.


(A pulls over and gets a flashlight from under his seat, THEY get out of the car and A shines the light on the windshield.)


B You hit a butterfly!

A (Defensively) I didn’t see it!

B (Takes the flashlight) No, look at it. It’s beautiful. You can’t really appreciate how intricate and…brilliant they are until they’ve got a pin stuck through them--or they’re smashed onto a windshield, I guess.

A Oh, wow. Your sensitive side. (Facetiously unimpressed)

B (Serious) Look.

A (Captivated) Wow, it is really beautiful. (Feels something brush his face. Reacts)

B What?

A I just got attacked by a bat or something!


(B shines the light into the sky. BOTH express amazement.)


A They’re all over! There’s hundreds of them!

B Oh, my God. It must be a butterfly migration.

A (Sarcastically) Oh, my God. You think?

B I wrote a research paper on butterfly migration in college.

A Really?

B Yeah, it’s a pretty incredible phenomenon, actually. A tiny, little butterfly will travel all the way from Canada to Mexico….That’s like something the size of you or me circling the earth like 11 times. It’s pretty crazy when you think about it.

A Jesus. How do they know where to go?

B They’ve got little sun compasses and magnetic compasses and shit.

A Meep, meep, the science geek.

B But I think they mostly run on instinct.

A …Or crazy impulse…right?

B (Chuckles.) I guess.

A Huh. I guess they succeed too.

B Yep, every year.


(THEY watch for a while in silence.)


A I better head home soon. I bet my roommates think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere.

B Yeah, you should. Sounds like you have people that care about you.

A Do you want me to drive you back to the bar or somewhere?

B Nope, I think I’ll just move on from here.

A But we’re in the middle of a desert.

B I’ll figure out something. It’s exciting. I’ll get a fresh, new start—no looking back.

A You’ll need money…here, take this.

B Your credit card?

A You can use it if you promise to pay me back.

B (Doesn’t want to see card) No, no, no. I’ll be fine…thanks though.

A (Stares at B) At least take what cash I have on me…it’s only like fifty-seven bucks. (Holds it out. Pause.)

B Thanks. (Takes it) You know, it really is stupid that they don’t let you people get married.

A I know, right?


(A looks at B. HE turns to get in his car; then stops, turns back around, and approaches B. An embrace somehow happens.)


A Well, that was a nice mixture of cheesy and awkward.

B Good luck.

A You too.


(A turns back around and gets in his car. B waves and starts to walk off stage. A pops back out of the car…)


A Hey! (B turns) I don’t even know your name.

B I know. (Pause. B smiles and exits.)


A is frozen in thought for a moment. Then he gets in his car, turns on his “rage” music from the beginning of the play, realizes it’s inappropriate, changes it to something more suitable, smiles, and drives away.

Fade to Black.