Smokin' and Drinkin'

My mother always taught me to teach my kids while they're young,
Teach them to read, teach them to write, teach them the important things in life.
Well, I never liked reading and I never liked writing, so I'll teach them the funner things in life.
I'll teach them to smoke,
I'll teach them to drink,
I'll teach them to joke,
and I'll teach them it's okay to stink.
I'll teach them how to roll a blunt,
and how to gamble.
I'll teach them how to hunt,
but I ain't teachin' them no preamble.
My children will grow up just like me,
spontaneous and wild and free.
What the hell am I thinking
They'll grow up to be little shits
Kids, grab your shoes and put down the booze.
You're going to school, you've got nothing to lose.

Last Call- Horror

Last Call.
I'm closing down the small town bar by myself, like I have done every Thursday night for the last four years. Tonight's been pretty slow. There are only seven regular customers left drinking their last drink as I start to clean up. I walk over to the window and turn the open sign off when I see an old truck pull into the parking lot. Great.
A man I have never seen walks in wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He looks as if he had been returning from a late outside job from the mud on his work boots and knees.
"I'm sorry sir, we're closed." I said.
The man looks at me and looks at my seven customers.
"Doesn't look that way to me, now how about you go and get me a drink."
"Sorry sir, last call was ten minutes ago."
"Well ain't that a shame then," he said as he left the bar.
I don't know what it was about this man, but he struck me as odd. Not too many new people come through this town, especially not through this bar and this late on a Thursday. I wonder what he was doing.
The seven customers finish up the last of their drinks and leave, and I am now alone.
I pull out a glass and make myself a Titos and tonic to award myself for the long night I had worked, and I start to sweep.
I wipe down the last table and grab my keys before turning out the lights.
As I unlock and open the front door to let myself out, I notice the old truck still in the parking lot, parked right behind my car.
What in the hell.
I quickly lock the door and pull out my cellphone to take a picture of the license plate.
I quietly walk beside the old truck and shivers run up my spine.
I glance into the bed of the truck and see a shovel covered in mud that had not yet dried.
I brace myself.
I take a quick look into the cab of his truck and he is staring at me.
I run to the drivers side of my car and get in. Without blinking an eye, I lock my doors and turn on my ignition.
I speed out of the parking lot and turn down a back road to get home, when I notice head lights in my rear view.
I speed to the neighboring town and pull into the police department and run inside.
The officer at the front desk stands and asks what is the matter due to my heavy breathing and frantic look.
I explain what had happened tonight and he grabs his intercom.
"We have a witness down at the station who can identify possible suspect."
"Possible suspect? What?" I said/
"A young girl from a bar across county went missing after her bar shift."
I quickly pull out my phone and show him the picture of the license plate.
I sit down. What if I was his next victim? What if I hadn't turned into the police department and had just tried to go home?

Cooling House and First Day

I really enjoyed reading "The First Day." It was interesting to hear from a child's perspective of how he felt or what he saw the first time he realized his mother was illiterate. I thought the author did a nice job showing the innocence of the child and not thinking much of his mother not being able to read or write. I thought the last line of the story was really powerful, how the child could hear his mother's footsteps above all the singing and noise that was present in the classroom.
I did not like listening to "Cooling the House." I do not know if it was because of the narrator or the story line. I found it hard to follow and boring. It felt like Napoleon Dynamite was telling a story in the perspective of an air conditioner. I did think it was interesting to have a piece written from that perspective. Maybe if I was able to read it, instead of listen I would have liked it better or been able to follow along better.

A Baby's Story

I am facing the back seat of my mother’s car listening to her talk to someone on the phone. I have no idea where we are on the road, or where we are headed. I’ve been in the car several times in my short one month of life and I like it. The motion and sound of the radio put me right to sleep, and I can already feel myself dozing off.

I jump awake when I feel my mother unlatch my car seat and lift me and my carrier out of the car. We enter a building that I have never seen before, but I do not like the smell. My mother sets my carrier down on the ground and begins to talk “Hi, we are here for Anna’s one-month check up.”

An unfamiliar voice responds “The doctor will be with you shortly, just fill out these papers and return the clipboard once you have finished.”

My mother then lifts my carrier and enters another door where there are lines of chairs with other moms and children waiting. The children look terrified.

I hear the sound of a baby crying from far away. What is this place? There are so many questions I want to ask my mother, but am unable to. I am only capable of crying and smiling.

I hear another unfamiliar voice call my name.

“Yes, that’s us” responds my mother

“You can follow me”

We enter another small room where there are wires and different things hanging from the walls. Everything in here looks terrifying. There is a tall bed that looks like the most uncomfortable thing I have ever seen in the middle of the room with a long piece of paper running from the top to the bottom.

My mother lifts me out of my carrier and holds me. The unfamiliar lifts up my shirt and puts something cold and uncomfortable on my chest. She flips me over and does the same thing to my back. I start to cry. This is torture.

She continues to poke and put different things in my ears, nose, and mouth. What did I do to deserve this punishment? Then, the worst of it all happened.

My eyes are closed from me screaming and crying through this torturous punishment when I felt it. I felt six different pinches on my arms and legs. This is the worst pain I have ever been in in my life. If I wasn’t screaming loud enough before, I think now everyone in this building can here me.

My mother tries to calm me down, but after that torture, I am not letting her win. I cry louder to let her know how angry and upset I am. I trusted her. Why would she let any of this happen to me?

My mother sets me back in my carrier and starts to carry me out to the car. This time, I do not sleep on the way home. 

Female Marathon Winner

I have my alarm set for 5:45 and I have been awake for the last hour with stomach pains. I check the time and it is 5:30. I may as well just get up and try to walk off these cramps. I don't know if it's my nerves and anxiety sinking in or what, but go figure I wake up on race day not feeling well. 

I swing my legs out of my bed and walk over to my chair to pick up the clothes I set out the night before and start to get dressed. "Shit. How the hell am I gonna run 26.2 miles today feeling like this?" 

I park in one of the garages and walk to the marathon starting line holding my stomach. I am so freaking nervous. I get in line to start with my wave. Wave 1. No turning back now. I quickly say a prayer for me to feel better and to make it through this race. 

The gun fires and I jump. I keep telling myself 'you got this'. I have ran several marathons prior to this one, but for some reason I started this one off in a different funk that I need to snap out of. Stupid stomach. 

I'm running at a steady pace. Mile 2, 24.2 more to go. I realize that my stomach is no longer hurting so I start to pick up the pace a little. The crowds of people lining the street with their cowbells and motivational words give me the adrenaline and push that I needed to run a little faster. I am approaching mile 4 and I am starting to sweat. It is 42 degrees out and I am in shorts and a light pull over. Alright, this shirt has got to go. I strip my shirt off and throw it to the side of the road. I am now running in just my shorts and my sports bra. 

I see the Mile 11 marker. This must be where the half-marathoners start. I hear a lady scream "you go girl" at me and then I realize I am being followed by two police motorcycles. Holy shit. Am I in first place for women right now? I take a glance at my digital watch. I have been running for a few minutes over an hour and I am on mile 11. Alright. 15 more to go. I got this. 

I run around Patterson Park and the energy and support is streaming from the crowds lining the streets. 

I pass the mile 17 marker and I am still being followed by the motorcycles and a news camera. I wonder how often they are showing me on the TV... I hope they aren't zooming in on me...I can feel the sweat dripping down my face and down my back. I'm sure everyone is enjoying that sight.

I circle around Lake Montebello and I'm in the home stretch. Four more miles. I can hear the Rocky song playing as I approach a neighborhood. These neighbors look like they are a good time. I haven't really read any of the signs being held up until now. I can't help but laugh as I am passing these signs. "Run faster I just farted," a guy sitting in a lawn chair with a sign saying "Worst parade. Ever," and a man in nothing but a trench coat holding a sign reading "Pick up the pace, or I open the coat." These are hilarious. 

Before I know it, I am on mile 25 and the energy from the city is insane. I pick up the pace. This might be my fastest mile. 

I run through the finish line and the announcer reads my name and my time. 2 hours and 58 minutes. First female finisher. 

I am quickly approached my different news casters with different questions being thrown at me like how does it feel to be the first woman to finish the Baltimore marathon? I respond by saying "I don't think it has hit me yet, this is too surreal." 

I didn't come here to win, I came to run for myself, but holy crap. I can't believe I just won!

Character Scripts

Character 1:

Kelsey

Kelsey is a very pretty, tall 24 year old. She has bright blue eyes and white blonde hair. Her artistic and creative side enjoys the energy the city has to offer. Her hands are always covered in paint, and often callused. Kelsey is an artist. She paints abstract and contemporary pieces and her work has been in countless shows. 

Kelsey does not like to sit still. Her personality reflects her art in the way that it is very colorful and energetic. She enjoys the outdoor air, meeting new people, and being around friends. She never gives anyone the false interpretation of herself. 

She is very care-free and go-with-the-flow. She is the only person out of her group of friends that can go out after studio hours in her painting clothes and still be approached by guys. She is usually in a shirt and jeans with her hands paint covered. 

Character 2:

Megan

Megan is a 5'5'' curvy girl. She is 25 years old and is overly stressed out. She has dark brown hair and soft blue eyes. She is a third grade teacher in a Catholic school. She is always wearing conservative clothing. She is newly engaged. 

Megan is a grad student working towards her Masters. She struggles balancing her work, her grad school work, and the wedding planning. Although she has a very pretty face, the stress is evident through the small bags under her eyes.

In my scene, I had Kelsey break Megan out of her shell to open up and let go of her stresses to have fun. Using the sketches made writing the play easier because I had more of a feel on how they would act and what they would do and feel. I was happy with my different characters because they remind me of a couple of my friends when we go out together. I personally hated writing the play. I am more of a visuals person and I hated that it was mostly dialogue. I kept on wanting to add more detail to create a visual for the reader. 

Character Play

Characters: 

Kelsey: A very pretty artist in her mid-twenties. She is a care-free and go-with-the-flow individual who is never afraid to speak her mind. Her personality is very much like her art, very colorful and energetic. 

Megan: 3rd grade teacher in a Catholic school. She is in her mid-twenties and carries a lot of stress. She is very quiet and self-conscious. She is working on her Masters and is newly engaged.

Setting:

A small, crowded Baltimore City bar full different classes of people celebrating the end of a long week of school or work. Music is playing loudly and some are dancing on the dance floor. Takes place in the year 2015 on a Friday night. 

Bar Scene

Megan is sitting at the bar wearing the clothes she taught in. She is reserving the chair next to her for Kelsey. She stands and waves when Kelsey enters the bar. Kelsey is wearing jeans and a shirt and her arms and hands are paint covered from the hours she spent in the studio earlier.

Megan:

Oh my gosh! It's so great to see you it's been too long!

Kelsey: 

I know! Don't be such a damn stranger, I missed you!

Megan:

Excuse me sir, I would like a glass of chardonnay and... Kels, what would you like?

Kelsey:

I'll take a Miller Lite bottle and a shot of Fireball, thanks.

Kelsey downs her shot of Fireball and sets the empty shot glass back on the bar.

Kelsey:

So how was your day?

Megan: 

It was okay, I only had to deal with two criers, one temper tantrum, and one kid asking what the dark circles under my eyes were for.

Kelsey:

Shit, and I thought I had it bad for catching myself talking to myself three different times in my studio. Girl you need a shot!

Megan:

Oh, no.. Really.. I can't.

Kelsey:

One shot won't kill you, Meg.

(to the bartender:)

We'll take two shots of Fireball.

Megan and Kelsey both swing back their shots and slam the shot glasses back onto the bar.

Megan:

(coughs)

ugh, that was terrible!

Kelsey: 

Come on girl! Live a little! You're in a bar wearing black dress pants, a shirt up to your neck, and a cardigan, drinking dry wine. You scream boring and responsible right now.

Megan:

Fine, I'll do one more shot.

Kelsey orders another round of shots for the two of them, and then another. 

Megan: 

(starting to slur her words)

Do..Do you realllly think that I'm... boring?

Kelsey:

Nooooooo. You just put off that impression sometimes!

Megan:

Screw it. I'm sleeping on your couch tonight. Let's have fun!

Kelsey:

There we go! 

Bartender, we'll take two more shots, please!

Kelsey and Megan take the shots and walk over to the dance floor

End Scene