A Discussion in D-Minor: Act 2
The lights are dim. The television has defaulted to snow, flickering its high-contrast noise across the hardwood floors, reflecting in the glassed-over eyes of the only actor on stage.
Richard is sitting heavily on the couch, supporting himself with both hands, mumbling slightly.
Richard: *hic*
Richard: You see? This is what I'm talking about - what the hell are you going to accomplish now? It's already well past twelve and you have a million things to do tomorrow!
R: (slurring) *hic*
R: For Fuck's sake... I mean, really. You can't even answer me coherently...
R: (uncertain) *hic*
R: (sighing loudly) Well, are you at least going to turn off the TV? It's driving me crazy, really.
R: (picking himself up) *hic* *click*
R: ... Finally.
The now lifeless television continues to give off that strange afterglow that is unique to older sets that have been on for far too long. Richard is making a pathetic fare at removing himself from the couch, not-so-quietly debating wether or not it will make due as a temporary bed.
Finally gaining some hard-fought strength, the recently-intoxicated Richard tumbles to the bed. After quite the show of organizing the blankets, Richard succumbs to his state, eyes tumbling closed, breath violently exhaled, mind racing...
Fin
The lights are dim. The television has defaulted to snow, flickering its high-contrast noise across the hardwood floors, reflecting in the glassed-over eyes of the only actor on stage.
Richard is sitting heavily on the couch, supporting himself with both hands, mumbling slightly.
Richard: *hic*
Richard: You see? This is what I'm talking about - what the hell are you going to accomplish now? It's already well past twelve and you have a million things to do tomorrow!
R: (slurring) *hic*
R: For Fuck's sake... I mean, really. You can't even answer me coherently...
R: (uncertain) *hic*
R: (sighing loudly) Well, are you at least going to turn off the TV? It's driving me crazy, really.
R: (picking himself up) *hic* *click*
R: ... Finally.
The now lifeless television continues to give off that strange afterglow that is unique to older sets that have been on for far too long. Richard is making a pathetic fare at removing himself from the couch, not-so-quietly debating wether or not it will make due as a temporary bed.
Finally gaining some hard-fought strength, the recently-intoxicated Richard tumbles to the bed. After quite the show of organizing the blankets, Richard succumbs to his state, eyes tumbling closed, breath violently exhaled, mind racing...
Fin
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
one half'll be like, "I like peanut butter." then the stupider half will say something completely irrelevant like, "Sometimes.. stegasaurus."
i ended up tossing the pork tenderloin. meat is stupid. i have waffles.