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TWENTY-NINE YEARS Lights up on a squared living room dressed in beiges and plains and browns. There is a couch and a loveseat that are terribly mismatched, giving the impression that one or both pieces of furniture were snatched from a street-side refuse pile. GERALD SHEEVER, 49, sits in the loveseat across from his wife SUSAN, 45, both of whom are reading the Christian Science Monitor. GERALD is continually shooting glances at his wife, who is deep in an article detailing the Christian Tenets held firm by John Edwards. After three such glances, each one more excited than the last, he sputters from behind his magazine GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN falls silent GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN tilts her head slightly upward, an indicator that she is about to scold. He recognizes this precursor, and interrupts the action with - GERALD SUSAN She rises and crosses SR, moving towards the bathroom SUSAN GERALD SUSAN Glancing at her watch SUSAN The moment SUSAN exits the room, GERALD springs from the couch as though jettisoned from a very fast ship. He exits SR. We hear a slight rustling, followed by a beat of silence. He then bursts onto the scene wearing nothing but a velveteen robe and his BVD’s. The robe is slightly ajar to reveal the paling paunch from a life of happy submission. He is struggling to carry in his hands a large polar-bear-skin rug, which is mostly obscured to the audience’s view. A rose has been tucked into the strap of his BVD’s, more out of necessity than anything else. He throws the rug harshly to the ground, panting slightly, and runs quickly to the opposite door to make sure his wife is not coming. He quickly runs back and unfurls the rug to reveal its true state. The rug is slightly too big for the size of the room, and curls upwards at the various edges of the shabby furniture. It is also obvious that, in transport from the store to the home, the head has become slightly damaged and is flatter than at the time of initial purchase. GERALD remains ignorant to this fact. Instead, he dashes behind the loveseat and pulls out a space heater and a bottle of white wine which he had stashed away earlier. He glances at the bottle, glances at the SL door, frowns slightly and quickly puts down the space heater while unscrewing the cap off the wine. He takes a large pull, nearly coughs in his speed, and re-screws the cap. After stashing the bottle back in its original hiding place, he moves the space heater to the foot of the rug and turns it on. It makes an unpleasant hissing noise, which he initially tries to solve but quickly decides against, throwing up his hands in eternal capitulation. He then runs to the light switch and flicks it off. In the darkness, we hear hurried footsteps, followed by a tremendous ‘yalp,’ as he has stubbed both big and little toes in the darkened room SUSAN GERALD Gerald stumbles back to the light switch and flips it on, cursing himself as he does so. The table now sits fairly askew, after having been struck in the leg with GERALD’s foot. He does not remedy to fix this, but rather hobbles to turn on the lamps adjacent to either side of the couch. In his hurry, he knocks over the second of the two lamps and sends it shattering to the floor SUSAN GERALD He quickly shakes his head and admonishes himself for making this comment. He glances briefly at the broken remains of the lamp, but is already galloping towards the bear-skin rug, knowing his wife will re-enter at any moment. As he splays upon the dead polar bear, suggestively opening his robe, he remembers the BVD-tucked rose and, holding it in front of him for inspection, is disappointed to find it flattened after all the commotion. His wife enters SR, interrupting this action GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD SUSAN GERALD GERALD clumsily picks himself up from off the rug and takes a moment to notice the rose he’s been clutching tightly in his hand. He smiles a brief smile of necessity and hands the rose to his wife, who becomes more disconcerted with each passing moment of unknowing. He plods SL and exits to go to sleep. SUSAN glances at her watch, this time looking at the date instead of the time SUSAN Her eyes look up, and she finally realizes what she has forgotten. She runs SL towards the bedroom SUSAN She stops, glances back at the rug, looks on her body, and quickly reaches underneath her shirt. She fumbles for a bit, unhooks the latch, and then pulls out her bra, letting it drop to the floor SUSAN CURTAIN |
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