Small Block - Act Two

Small Block, written by Ashley Lauren. Thank you for listening to Small Block. Please note that there is adult language throughout that is not suitable for young listeners. Furthermore, there are a few items that might be triggering for some readers. These include Suicidal ideation, discussion, transphobic language, homophobic language, minor instances of fatphobic language. All phobic language is used intentionally for thematic reasons. It is not used without thought or due to either naivete or bigotry. Thank you again for listening to Small Block. Now, on to the show. Oh, hey, cool your back. I'm glad I changed my mind about my dark thoughts for the moment at least. But now, back to my former best friend is super pissed at me. Well, yeah. Is that because I'm a girl? What kind of question is that? Plus, I totally like Kev, my current best friend, down during the battle of the sexes. It's not the way I envisioned things going. Yeah, you think? At least we get to spend homecoming weekend at our friend and bandmates' disease house. We're still finding over whether or not to go to the dance though. Not that any of us have dates yet. It'll be fun. We should go. Definitely not going. I'd like to go. But anyway, we just met Miss World and her sick DeLorean man I hope he gets a ride in it. I could use a win, especially with my dad on me about girls and St. John's. Back to interior disease room morning. Sun streams in, P. Awakens, top bunk, alone in the room. He listens, nothing. He quietly slips the yearbook from under his pillow, a Kleeneck sticks out, a makeshift bookmark. He opens to Beck smiling with the butterfly. He gazes fondly. He glances at the DeLorean poster on the wall, then back to Beck's. He trials different ways to ask her the big question. Do you want to go to the dance with me? Do you want to go to the dance with me? Do you want to go to the dance with me? Do you want to go to the dance with me? Through the wall, toilet flush, faucet. P quickly returns the Kleeneck's with Beck's and shoves the yearbook under his pillow. Kev enters from the bathroom, an unopened but sweating sprite in hand, backpacking the other. What about Cola at my funeral? What makes sense? You're not killing yourself. Kev opens the sprite, Sips, P. Reaches, Kev passes him the can. You'll probably like die surrounded by your hot wife and perfect kids. P. takes a long drink, returns the can. He adjusts his purple beanie, worn through the night. You know, the dance might not be so bad. Please. I'm not going to be the dateless loser in the corner with his other dateless loser friends. Well, Beck laughs at me. She wouldn't laugh at you. I mean, I could, I don't know, like have her hang with us at the dance. She's super nice. Yeah, you want her to hang with us now? Maybe next time you two can have a heart to heart and you can tell her how super nice I am. Kev chugs the sprite. He throws the empty can at the trash. It misses. He sorts through his bag by his pillow. P rolls over, facing the ceiling. He softly sings guns and roses. Come on. Hey, you cut me in a... Come on, Mom. And I don't think I want to ever come back to this. P looks at the closed door. No dizzy. Glances at the door again. Deep breath. Here goes. There's some shit that I want to tell. The door pounds open. Where's my dad's penthouse, homo? Dizzy storms into the room glaring at P. I know you took it from the stack of my parents' bathroom. Dad has a stack of penthouses? Did you take it? Kev shakes his head. All 57 issues need to be... He has 57 penthouses in the bathroom and you never told us? Everything needs to be fucking perfect or my dad will be pissed. I told you I didn't take it. And I'm telling you you're a liar. Dizzy grabs Peas' backpack. Kev props his pillow behind him. Don't just my bag, dude. Dizzy dumps the contents onto the floor. Books cascade out, followed by clothes and a zip lock with a t-shirt inside. A blue trapper folder falls out, papers scattering. Pea rushes to the floor collecting them. That's our fucking lyrics, man. Dizzy spots something under Peas' pillow. He tosses the pillow to the floor. He holds the yearbook, confused. Dude, are you racking off to the yearbook? Pea eyes the Kleenex bookmark sticking out at the top. Where are you hiding it? Pea jumps up, grabs the yearbook. He lets it fall to his side, the Kleenex drifting to the floor. Just put the shit back, okay? And whatever else you're hiding. My dad. Where is your dad anyway? I'm here like every weekend and haven't seen him in months. Dude. Outside, Mrs. D pulls into the driveway. I've seen your mom working her ass off, though, while you bitch about how she won't make you bon-tet or ribs or a fucking sandwich. Dizzy's on the verge of tears. Some shit should stay inside, bro. It's gotta be perfect when it comes back. Peas shakes his head and pushes past Dizzy into the hallway. Interior hallway, living room, kitchen, continuous. Pea walks towards the kitchen. Mrs. D quietly closes the front door, her eyes ringed dark. Morning, Mrs. D. They enter the kitchen, peagots water, Dizzy enters, quiet. How's Uncle Chris? Mrs. D turns to Dizzy tired, a faint smile. Okay, for now. Your boys want omelets? Anything you want inside? Dizzy glances at P first and shakes his head. Mrs. D hands him three bon-tet. She winks, conspiratorially. I can make more before he runs out. P offers Dizzy a cold sprite, he takes it. They're okay. Interior Dizzy's bathroom, short time later. P opens a ziplock in front of the mirror, an impeccably folded band t-shirt inside. Sepulchura, beneath the remains. He inspects every milliliter carefully, leaning close, he spots a tiny crumb. You're a quick, just a millimetre. Sorry. I did that at the end. It's embarrassing to you. He inspects every millimetre carefully, leaning close, he spots a tiny crumb. He brushes until every trace is gone. Exterior, street planet VHS, short time later. The sun shines brightly on the perfect Sepulchura shirt. The Kevin Dizzy walked toward the planet VHS parking lot. They each hold different ice cream treats. Kev, Flintstones Push-Up Pop, Dizzy, Firecracker, P, Drumstick. Come on, I want to get the crow. He walks even faster. P grins at Kev and walks even slower. Kev slows in kind. They talk quietly. The crow soundtrack is so bad ass. Why'd you see Becks get hang with us? I mean, I just meant at the dance. If we went, you brought her up. Kev thinks about it. We're cool, right? Dude, always. You're my brother. Yeah, I still like her. Just not the same way I used to. Kev nods thinking. Dizzy notices how far behind they are. The fuck, Kev? We just wanted to give you space. And I want to give you my fat cock in your ass. Ever consider how tiresome it is here in gay shit for me all the time? Ever consider how I'd like you better if your mouth was full of dicks instead of words? Kev laughs. Peace, Max, Kev's arm. But smiles. Pea flat tires, Dizzy. Dizzy nails to put a shoe back on. Fuck her. Finally at the store. Pea reaches for the door handle. Dizzy runs past him flinging the door open. The door flies into Pea, knocking his hand. The drumstick meshes onto his chest, leaving a huge vanilla smear spattered on his shirt. Fuck you! We gotta go back! You wish? Looks like Kev's load blasted all over your chest. Kev and Dizzy laugh. Seriously, please, let's go back. Interior planet VHS moments later. Beck stands at the front of the blockbuster-style video store. Pea tries to hide his shirt, but nothing doing. Welcome to planet VHS. Pea looks like Kev dumped a load on your chest. Reach out if you need me. VHS stands for very hospitable service. She walks off smiling. Pea's face burns. Dizzy leans over the tape, return counter. Trying to see what just came in, but it's obscured. Pea follows behind Kev closely trying to hide his shirt. The three boys sort through the rows of tapes on the counter. Chick flick, chick flick, seen it. Ah, chick flick. It's not fucking in! Thanks for insisting we come here today instead of yesterday, Pea. We can do sun and log in. Dizzy renews his efforts. Pea pulls a tape. Naked gun 33 and a third? Anything but sun and log. Tapes clunk into the return bin. Dizzy searches for help. He signals to a manager. She talks into her headset. Bex arrives moments later. Pea stands behind Kev. Need help sounding out the titles? Are any of those the crow? Pea leans to Kev quietly. Got in quarters? Interior, planet VHS back room, short time later. A small arcade setup with a few game cabinets. Pea alone plays super street fighter 2 Turbo. He's Cammy, a blonde female military fighter. He fights Gile, a blonde male military fighter. Cammy and Gile battle back and forth. The two blonde fighters looking like mirrors as they trade blows. They connect simultaneously with each other. They collapse. Double KO. A quarter is placed by the bottom of the screen. Next. Pea turns. Bex is right there. Shit. Hey now, till yesterday I thought we were still friends. She inspects Pea's chin. Hmm, you shouldn't shave your one hair. You look like a girl without it. Listen, I'm Bex pushes in the quarter. I'll be gentle since your bodyguard and his gunseller outside. That's funny. Sam Spade calls a guide. Gunsell in Maltees' Falcon. Sorry, this is like a tongue twister. Okay. That's funny. Sam Spade calls a guide Gunsell in Maltees' Falcon. Bex stares dead-eyed, answers dead-pan. Oh my golly, do you know where I could possibly rent such a film? Listen, I'm an idiot. Bex hits start. Short time later, Pea and Bex eye the screen intensely. Cammy, Pea, flips. Blanca, Bex, a green animal. Grabs and bites her. KO. Bex wins. Tizep. Almost went around though. She checks her watch. Seven minutes left. Three or five. Pea glances toward the door, no sign of kev. Deep breath. This is kind of embarrassing, but is it about the shirt? Bit fucked up you'd show with my favorite album looking more like a neat the seaman, but I'll forgive you. For that. Pea looks at his beneath the remains shirt with the huge ice cream splotch. He turns to the door, still no sign of kev. It's not the shirt. I wanted to ask. Listen, that wasn't me yesterday. I mean, it was obviously me, but not like the real me. The real me wouldn't do that. Oh yeah? Cause it looked like you. The fuck dude? Kev shoots Pea a loaded look from the doorway. Eight whole minutes without Pea. Postpartum much. Maybe I wanted to see you. Flowers over there please. I'm busy kicking Pea's ass. At least I think it's Pea. There's a debate. Pea voids both their eyes. He stares into his reflection in the game screen. It's not what you think dude. You just want a few rounds. With everything yesterday, you know, I didn't want her to feel bad. Bex snatches her remaining quarter. As she leaves. Bex. This one isn't the real you either, right? She's gone. Pea stares at the door. Not like you used to, huh? Interior, planet VHS moments later. Pea and Kev, mid chat. Find Dizzy at the wall of the Crow boxes. She called next. She can call whatever the fuck she wants. You don't have to play. Kev walks a couple of aisles over. Pea calls after him. Who doesn't continue playing when someone calls next? 47 fucking boxes and not a single goddamn actual tape-in. I knew we should have come yesterday. Kev rapturously brings the box for Sun and Law. May I suggest Sun and Legends featuring the lady of my dreams Miss Carla Gugino? I'd rather shoot myself in the butthole. You like it. I used to like it. Oh God. A distressed video clerk runs past the boys tearing toward the bathroom. Dizzy turns to Pea who peers over the aisles looking for Bex. Isn't there anything else you want? Something more. Film me or whatever? You know what I heard is pretty good? The crying game. Bro. Are there a vialsina? Nope. Pea spots Bex talking to a tall thin woman with a VCR case. The woman's short skirt shows her mid-reff. Yellow flower in her hair. So this... I'm sorry, short shirt? Shows her mid-reff? Yeah. I was wondering how her short skirt shows. Yeah. As I was singing, I'm like, how does that work? Is that so? Blue? I was like, okay. Pea spots Bex talking to a tall thin woman with a VCR case. The woman's short shirt shows her mid-reff. Yellow flower in her hair. So this IRA girl is going to fuck this girl, right? IRA guy. But great. Oh. That's such a director thing to do. You fucked it up. That was so good. I was doing a perfect work. Merge along. So this IRA guy is going to fuck this girl, right? Bex smiles broadly, almost beaming. She points at a shelf. The woman turns, revealing her face. Miss World! Miss World's surprise turns. She waves. The boys approach. 1450 for the weekend. Returns for the VCRs are inside the store. I'm here Sunday if you wanted to hand it directly to me. Anything else I may help you with? No. Thank you. Bex. Reach out if you need me. VHS stands for very hospital service. Bex smiles wistfully, reluctantly leaves. Peas eyes follow. Dizzy tries to locate the Delorean out the store window. So lucky that we came today. A thought anymore about a ride? Our parents will be at the homecoming game later. We're playing St. John's. You can meet them. They'll tell you no big deal and we can go for a ride there. God, I'd love to see everyone from school looking me right around with a hot chick blasting pantera. My parents will buy you a Frito pie. Miss World's smiles. Can't deny it. Dizzy turns back to the shelves. It was fun talking music and you all seemed nice. But a ride's a bad idea. I'm an adult. It's weird. Peace face falls. Here it is. Dizzy holds up the box to the crying game. So like I said, this IRA guy is going to fuck this girl, right? It's like any normal boring sexy and tits or whatever. But then the camera keeps going down and she has a fucking dick. P and Kev both stop what they're doing. They show it. Dizzy nods. Miss World listens intently. She hot? Dicks should be on dudes. Plus, it should have been huge if you want to shock people. What is the guy deal? Hits her in pukes. Obviously. Miss World's eyes circle the group. Kev bursts out laughing. I'm sorry. Can we go again, please? Kev bursts out laughing. Ace Venture is so smart. Miss World steps in taking the tape from Dizzy. Tomorrow morning. Same house? Yes. Deal. For real? Promise. 11 a.m. I want to talk to your parents first, though. Sweet. I'll wear my Metallica shirt. No. My prime is shirt again. No. Maybe my 9-engine nail shirt. You brought four shirts but only one pair of underwear? Five shirts. Miss World puts the crying game back on the shelf. Red something else. Dizzy points to the tape in her hand. That the crow? She displays her tape. Peggy Sue got married. Tomorrow at 11. She leaves. Holy shit! Holy shit! I'm going to ride in the Delorean tomorrow. I can't even imagine what it would be like to actually be inside it. Kev waits till she's at the register. Then quietly picks up the crying game. He looks at P and Dizzy. Shrugs. P gazes at Bex's cheerful smile as she rings up Miss World. Interior, planet VHS checkout moments later. Dizzy checks the tape return one last time. Bex works one of two registers. P and Kev wait for the other. Only one customer ahead but their video clerk, the same one who ran by earlier, shifts back and forth uncomfortably. Peep picks up a Cadbury creeme egg from the discount bin. Ugh. Those don't deserve to exist. I like the center. Dizzy returns. The customer leaves. Their clerk turns to Bex. Oh god. This new modification. I can't hold it. Oh, cover me. The boys look to Bex's register. She smiles sweetly at them. Moments later. Tapes slide across the counter. Peep adds the creeme egg. Shit tastes like butt. You eat butt? Bex laughs loudly, then stops abruptly. Deflating Dizzy. Peep swaps the egg out for a purple grape tootsie pop. Bex holds up the crying game. Peep looks at Bex. He adjusts his purple beanie. Yeah, let's put it back. Bex slides it under the counter. God damn it. I want to rent two movies. Kev slides Sun and Law across the counter. He and Peep silently watch Dizzy stare at it. Fine. I get to ride in a Delorean. I'll give you Sun and Law. Peep nudges Kev and congratulations. Touching. A true sacrifice. That'll be 880. Oh wait. You guys wanted the crow, right? Guess what my mom just returned. Dizzy raises his hands to the Lord. Peep gives Bex a sincere thank you smile, the kind with a sheepish apology included. Bex smiles warmly. She slides the tape across the counter. Yental. Oh, ho, ho, ho. Tense crowd noise builds. Getting louder. Peep drops his head. The exterior homecoming game nearby field. Evening. Peep's head raises. Nearby crowd noise floats on the wind. Peep charges down the field. Weeping past St. John's 8th grade defenders. All the players are in street clothes. A playground game. The football floats through the dark night sky, arcing downward straight into the hands of the receiver. On the homecoming game, main field, simultaneous. The varsity Pond Hill receiver catches the ball. Tears toward the end zone. Bright stadium lights bave everything in fluorescent drama. Go Pond Hill and beat St. John signs on one side. He walks with us. St. John's is king. And Pond Hill eats shit signs. Fill the opposing stands. The receiver cuts sharply. Dodges attack, o' dives. Touchdown. The Pond Hill crowd erupts. Yes! Cheer leaders scream wildly. Exterior homecoming game nearby field. Simultaneous. 8th grade girls talk about anything else as they kind of watch P in the team play on a small field away from the stands. Spill from the real game's lights illuminate the play. Cheers wapped across the night air. P turns. Looks for the ball. The girls couldn't care less when a defender tags Brit. The QB. The boy who threw the football to P in the hallway. Kev is wrapped on the sidelines. Come on Brit! P! Let it out, baby! P's team huddles. P scans the sidelines. No backs. Fourth and five. Last shot. Dizzy's chest heaves. P adjusts his purple beanie. Tugs his shirt taught. Sorry, I need to cough that whole time. God. Safes are playing close in center. I can't speak. Sorry. Have some water. I'll have some too. Safes are playing close in center. I'll be free if I go left. Sounds good, beef. Guys, those St. John's faggot are going to blitz. Tiff, I need that juice. Dance fake and go in middle. Plug the left. Dizzy, stop Jack. Tiffany, thick athletic girl at Brit's locker before. Nods. I'll have that fat fuck nursing my dick when we're done. Moments later, they line up. P crouches. Ready. Blue for two! Blue for two! Hup! P sprints. Dizzy mirrors and blocks Jack at the line of scrimmage. Brit drops back in the pocket. Tiffany plants her feet and wraps her arm around Dan. She hurls him to the ground. Dizzy slips, collapsing into the dirt. Jack's free. He runs through the gap Dizzy left open. Brit sees Jack getting closer. His arm goes back to throw. Dizzy scrambles on the ground, lunges. His craning fingers grasp Jack's ankle. Jack tumbles. Brit's free. P button hooks. The ball sails through the air. It's wide left. P leaps, extending his arms. Got it. Fuck you, P! P runs. Safety scramble from the middle. They're too far. Touchdown. Peace cheer. Woo! Wow, interference. That was clean. Jack, you lost. No way. He's dirty. We win. You say, John's fucks think you're owed everything. That's what we're do. You got caught. Get over it. You and your bitch. He nods at Dan. You want to go, bitch? Kev charges onto the field. Yeah, let's go, motherfucker. I'll scope fuck you so hard. Archaeologists will think they'd miscut him and you s- Fuck. In other words, that's please. No, no. That was perfect the way it was. Yeah, one more time to be great. You want to go, bitch? Kev charges onto the field. Yeah, let's go, motherfucker. I'll scope fuck you so hard. Archaeologists will think they'd miscovered a new species. St. John's team laughs. Archaeologists, man, your school's stupid. Beating your ass, though. Kev points to the giant scoreboard above the real field. Pond heals ahead, 17 to 7. P runs over. One of the St. John's players trips him. P tumbles. He stands, fixing his purple bean. Damn, boy. Don't I know you from the buffet? I've seen less jiggle on Jello. Guess there is always room. The St. John's team laughs. P looks down. His soft belly's partially exposed. His shirt wrote up in the fall. He quickly yanks his shirt taut. Jack, Dan, and the St. John's team leave, cheering. P joins Kevin Dizzy. Dizzy high fives Kev. Thanks for having my back. They ain't taking my boys' TD away. Kev looks to pee, beaming. Let's see, we're sick. No way Brick gets that pass off without you. P extends his fist to Dibi. P extends his fist to Dizzy. I got it. P extends his fist to Dizzy, but before Dizzy can bump it. But that catch, though. Could you see pee from the ground? It was awesome, man. Dizzy dusts the grass and dirt from his clothes. P and Kev watch as he walks away past the edge of the light, throwing middle fingers to St. John's. Exterior, homecoming game nearby field, moments later. Kev and P walk. Dizzy earned us that win. That kid's all hard. He wouldn't have had to save it if he hadn't fallen in the first place. And Brick, our classmate thinks that dude's hot shit, but it's garbage. Motherfucker's never thrown an on-target pass ever. The team owes you the victory. You deserve that shit. Fuck those St. John's butt puppets. P eyes, Kev. Kev kicks a small rock deep into the night. Pondale for life, bitches! Kev tilts to see the stadium lights. P studies him. Next year, we'll settle in the real game. You gonna play? Maybe. Maybe. You'd be a starting receiver as a freshman. Who knows how many touchdowns you'd score. Everyone would have revered you. P silent. He steals a glance at Kev. What's your deal? Seriously? Deep breath. My parents are making me apply to schools for next year. Kev slowly stops. And if I get in anywhere, I'll be gone. You wanna go? You kidding me? Not unless you go. They are the St. John's eighth graders laughing. Ugh, god, my dad would crem if I got into St. John's. Over my dead body, though. I filled the St. John's interviewers that I don't fit in in an all-boys joint. And that religion has no place in school. And then I quoted Jesus' saves. So here, you quoted those religious fucks slayer? I tanked the interviews at every school, dude. You're such a bro, dude. The whistle blows half-time. Shit. I told my dad I'd find him before half-time. Want me to come with? Kev's silent. I don't get it. When I see him, he's super nice to me. And then he yells because you're on the phone with me. And all the other shit you tell me, he says, would have to change that asshole to like me. Kev laughs bitterly. He walks away singing Metallica's disposable heroes. You will, dude. What I say. Packed the front. Exterior, homecoming game stands. Short time later. P. locates his parents in the stands. Dad nods at the field. Could be you next year. Girls love football players. Hopefully you'll be on the other side, though. I just got to touch down with the guys, but St. John's jerks pulled BS and said it didn't count. Don't hide behind excuses. Leave an opening and your opponents will find a way to crawl out. Seal the deal. Girls love football players. I wanted to play football. Sweat, passion, the guys. Girls love rock stars, too. If they play real music. Peelix down. He sees Bex head toward the concessions. Need drinks? Corn dogs? Terry? Peas mom pulls out a crisp $20 bill. She shuffles through other 20s until she finds the most wrinkled one. She hands it to Pea, saving the crisp one. Peanods to dad. Freedom pie. Make sure they slather the chili and cheese. I don't want to be able to see underneath. And soda bucket. They got big red. Really? The hell's wrong with big red. Peat turns to mom. Courses, please. How about a cream soda? Harris, go with him for the beer. Bex is halfway to the concessions alone. I want to make it easy on you both. Wouldn't you prefer a cream soda? Mom opens her wallet. I'll put this 20 away. Moments later, Pean Dad head toward the concession stand. Christine's wedding is Sunday if you need to get clothes or anything tomorrow for the dance. I get a date. I'll let you know. Chad, you know, his uncle grown up. He couldn't find anyone to take the dances at your age. Not in high school either. Could've had anyone too. Running back. Good luck on that guy. Wasn't till much later he found people he jibed with. Like him. Get what I mean? I'm a loser and I won't find anyone till I'm older. No, what? This guy was... Dad looks around, then leans in close. He's... He likes... I like girls, Dad. Of course, of course. I was just checking in. Not that there would be anything wrong with you didn't like girls. It's the 90s. You can be anything these days. I don't mean stuff. When you lean in, can you give me more of a quiet voice? Yeah. So start with that. Don't wake the baby. Yeah. And just say to you on the course of course. And of course, of course, I was just checking in. It's like, thank you, God, thank you, God, thank you, God. Thank you, God. Got you some polish inside. Got you. He's... He likes... I like girls, Dad. Of course, of course. I was just checking in. Not that there would be anything wrong if you didn't like girls. It's the 90s. You can be anything these days. Up ahead, Peacan just make out the back of Bex's head. I guess it's not so bad going stag. Plenty of unbridled fillies around. Jesus Christ, fillies? Yeah, fillies. What do you call them? Chicks? What about her? Dad points out a thin girl. High school. Freshman? Junior. Her. He points out a more age-appropriate but even thinner girl. Not for me. She thinks metal sucks. That music's holding you back. Her. Dad points out the thinnest girl yet. A cheerleader. That's literally the varsity cheerleading captain. Really? That's short? Taken? Preston Jacobs? Makes sense. Cubies always get the girls. Muscular, but not too muscular. Handsome. Must be a DNA thing. You ever see an ugly quarterback? And they're never fat. Another benefit of playing. Peatugs the corners of his shirt taught. Bex's just ahead. Peat! Pea Wheels, Mr. Welch approaches with a large covered box. Tough break yesterday. I shouldn't have spoken so openly in front of the class. Seen Bex around? It's okay. And I know. Well, I doubt she's hiding. Okay. Got to finish setting up the, uh, half-time surprise. He motions to the box he carries. Hope you enjoy. Mr. Richards? Welch Notson smiles at Dad, then leaves. Dr. Richards, you uncouth fuck. I'd bet money that St. John's make sure their teachers know the station of their students' parents. Who's Bex? Bex? Bex, Dad. You know who she is. So what's the deal? Nothing. I just got to apologize. Dad's size. You got to be courteous to women. Be a mench, right? Dad points out different thin girls. Any one of these could be yours. You're just going to act right. Dad spots a larger girl for behind buying cotton candy. He doesn't recognize her. He chuckles. And points with his thumb. Some are easier to get than others. Pea follows Dad's thumb to see Bex buying cotton candy. He quickly averts his gaze, focusing on a large locus shell on the ground. He scratches his whisker. Almost forgot. Bex is gone. Pea looks around. She's nowhere. Happy belated birthday. Mom insisted on the ridiculous ribbon. Dad hands Pea something. Pea looks upward at him. Exterior, homecoming game, short time later. Pease face turns scanning for Bex. He walks past the concessions, past the restrooms, past everywhere. She's vanished. Sying, peat turns around. Bex is right behind him. She's Christ. Pea jerks. Dr. Pepper sloshing out of his cup and onto his hand. Bex smiles. I've been chatting to you for five minutes. Worth it. She peers around him as he regains his wits. No, Kauv. He's with his dad. My condolences to both of them. You'd like him if you got to know him. Yes. I've always thought that. Pea laughs. Can I have some of your cotton candy? Can I have some of your Dr. Pepper? They swap. She makes a face. Is this diet? Pea nods. Bex shrugs it off, drinks again. So, I've been telling your ass who we looking for. You. Bex turns the cup vertical and drains the soda. She holds it above her mouth so that Pea can watch the last drops fall in. Now I'm sad we're alone. You've been doing such a great job humiliating yourself in front of people. That's nothing new. Mom still talks about wet tropics. Just your mom. Oh. I do too. And my dad and my sisters. Some cousins. Haven't been to a water park since. Pea smiles. He looks at the bright stadium lights in the distance. His face shifts. What? Just wondering if I'll ever have lights like that shining on me. Aren't you planning to play next year? I mean the band. No, it's how it could play to 1.6 million people in Russia. Pintera played earlier in the day and their crowd was over 500,000. They're from here and they played over half a million fans going BATCH IT FOR THEIR MUSEK. What was that song you wrote me in 5th grade? Sunshine Heart. Bex smiles. I just wanted to see if you still remembered. Thought I'd forget. It's not 5th grade anymore. You know what I remember most about wet tropics? Bex looks at him like he's a dumbass. Shitting your swimsuit on the lazy river and then duck walking with an inner tube stuck in your ass so your suit wouldn't fall off? No one else would have laughed with me. I mean no one else would have made me laugh. Their eyes meet, connected. They look deep into each other. The moment suddenly intimate, close, and raw. I missed you. He pushes his purple beanie up. He puts a knee on the ground, raises the cotton candy like a proposal. Will you go to the dance with me? Bex is shocked. You can't use my cotton candy. He stands, returns the cotton candy. Boom. A lone firework explodes painting this guy. Wow. Mr. Welch's surprise. Boom. Boom. More fireworks. The glow paints their faces. Peas eyes, naked and deep, connect with bexes. I think you feel sometimes you're the only one who knows how special you are. Not when we were friends. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. The dance. Okay. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. The finale of the fireworks. They burst in aggressive beauty. Pea overjoyed screams. Excited. Pea? Pea turns. Kev is clearly worse for where after his dad. He might have been crying. Thank God. I thought I was going to find you with fucking Bex again. Fucking Bex, huh? Bex steps from behind Pea. Kev's face drains. He looks like he's been punched. He hurries away. I take it. You didn't mention this. Yeah. Sevens moral? If that shit's squared by then? Moments later. Boom. The last few fireworks ignite as Kev stomps ahead. It's not what you think. Hey. It's not what you think. Kev strides forward without turning. Yeah? Well, every time I turn my back for a fucking second, you run through. You're my best friend, man. Swear. Kev stops, closes his eyes, Pea catches up. Just tell me, man. The truth. Tell me. Pea nervously stammeres. What? She- we're- we're just friends. Do you even like me anymore? Pea breeds again, relieved. Of course. Kev laughs bitterly, stomps forward. Can't even be honest with me. Did your dad fuck you up? Kev wheels on him, eyes ringed red. I love her! Dude! I love her, okay? I told you when we're 18, I'll find a way for you to meet Kev. I'll find a way for you to meet Kev. Thanks, man. Thanks. Kev storms toward their classmates ahead. Pea dazed follows. Thanks. You think I'm stupid? Just friends, my ass, fucking pallying it up with her like old times. You're gonna be best friends forever, and I'm not gonna have either of you. Well, jokes on her, because you're chasing me, and she's alone. They reach their classmates, passing around a soda bucket. A 96-ounce cup with a hand-drawn lid. James offers P the bucket. Beer fee? I'll have some. You fucked us, bro. Just give me the fucking beer. Pea nods at James, James gives Kev the bucket. Going to the dance tomorrow, P. Taking two breakfasts, becks. Pea's head snaps toward Zach. The whole group of boys erupts and laughter. Kev stares at the ground. Can you imagine? P going with double-quarter powder with cheese McDonald? Every dance would be a slow dance. Maybe it's true. You guys were best friends forever. People's down as purple beanie tries to play it cool. As if. Caught you alone with her twice today. P.I.S.Kav hurt. A moment of guilt, then Kev steals himself. James hands Kev the cup of beer. Classmates laugh and holler. Kev tilts his head back, drinks. Moonlight and floodlights paint piece face different hues. Interior Disney's room later that night. Blue red white yellow light flickers on piece face. Bear Nuckle III, the import version of Streets of Rage 3, a video game on the TV. The boss, a ridiculous gay stereotype named Ash, enters the fight. Pea's purple beanie-framed face focuses intently on ashes. Ash is heavily muscled. Black goatee, purple cop hat, black leglessly atard, green stockings at end mid-thigh, and women's knee-high healed boots. A large gold women's symbol medallion hangs from Ash's neck. Pea plays as blaze fielding. Bad ass female cop in all red. Mini skirt, boots, crop top. You slip, that's all I'm saying. I'm sure you could see everything I did wrong from the sidelines. Pea tries to ignore them. On screen, he expertly counters Ash's prancing kicks. Ash laughs effeminately. That's stomach hurts. Kev walks past Dizzy. He covertly rummages in his pillowcase, removes something, he exits. You're right, the important version of this game is the shit. Dizzy lowers his car magazine and watches the screen. I kick this facet's ass like every day. Blaze wins. Ash lies on the ground and sits up sobbing. Outside, a car starts and drives off. Pea pauses the game, freezing Ash on the ground, mid-cry. Your mom's leaving this late. Dizzy stares at the window even after the curtain goes dark. My dad would have gotten a kick out of him. He hates homos. You can fight him now if you want. Pea stands, puts the purple grape tootsie pop in his mouth. Dizzy raises the magazine. Maybe later, if the mood hits. Give me a coke too. Not coke. Interior hallway moments later. Pea closes Dizzy's door. The bathroom door opens. Kev pulls him inside. Interior bathroom continuous. Pea surprised. It doesn't smell bad. Thought your stomach was fucked up. Kev hands Pea Penthouse magazine. August 1994. A black and white photo of a beautiful dark-haired woman on the cover. You did take it. Kev angry takes a breath to calm himself. This is a piece offering. I was going to show it to you anyway, but I'm showing you now. Listen. You want to look at this? Pea shakes his head. Kev takes the magazine. Kev listens at the door. No Dizzy. He removes a box of Q-tips and a large bottle of hand soap from under the sink. Hold this. Pea hands Pea a white first aid kit with a big red cross. He pushes the magazine deep in the cabinet, replaces the other items and shuts the door. Coming back? Pea shakes his head. Grab Dizzy a drink. Kev leaves. Pea assesses his purple beanie reflection in the mirror. Pulse his shirt taught. He twists his arm. Looking for definition. He examines his lone whisker. It's starting to sprout. Minutes later, Pea's eyes peer out from behind the penthouse. First aid kit and other items on the counter. He idly rubs his lone chin hair and examines the magazine. Flips through. Stopps at a pictorial with a man and a woman. Pea examines the images almost scientifically, almost confused. Quickly flipping through, he suddenly stops, captivated by two women kissing. Debbie and Raheekza. His face changes. He crunches through the last bit of purple shell on the grape tootsie pop, finally reaching the center. He gazes at the two women kissing. His face soft, his eyes intense, searching. No lust. Pea shakes his arm, extending and curling his fingers. He turns the page delicately, attention wrapped. His world existing only within the two women's glossy-paged fantasy. Interior Dizzy's room, short while later. Pea returns to find Dizzy and Kev wrestling on the floor. Kev locks in a sleeper hold on Dizzy. Dizzy space reddens as he struggles. Finally, he taps Kev. Mate, mate, a fuck. Kev releases. He opens a sweating sprite, drinks. Starts son-in-law, bitch. Dizzy reluctantly opens the Coke that Kev brought him. No. Wrestling for it was your suggestion you're gonna Welch now? I don't wanna see that stupid movie again. Back to the future. Fucking please. And less than 10 hours, I get to ride in a delorean. Of all the cookers in the world, I pick the delorean to ride in first. And for once, I'm gonna get what I want. And I wanna be hyped as fuck. Bro, no one cares about that busted ass car outside of you and pee. It looks like an industrial fridge with a windshield. It sucks. Bro, I won. I wanna watch son-in-law. I don't get to marry Carla in 10 hours. You know how much I care about her? Let me have this. She's the girl of my dreams, the person I do, anything to spend my life with. No one else comes close. She'll be an amazing mother. You know when we get make-up, she's famous. She's a fucking movie star and you're nobody. You never will be. Damn it. Get over it. Fuck you! I'm so fucking sick and tired of hearing you complain all the time like a bitch. I slipped at the game. I slipped. Bitch at least I wasn't playing cheerleader on the sidelines. Fuck you and fuck Carla. You can't always get what you want. Dizzy crashes out of the room with the door slamming behind him. Fuck! Dude, what the fuck? The door flies open. Why the fuck am I leaving? This is my fucking room. Your mother fuckers leave. Get the fuck out now. Dizzy storms over kicking the ground under their legs. Get the fuck out. Dizzy turns the TV back to bare-knuckle-3. The game still paused. The effeminate ash frozen mid-sob. Dizzy snatches the controller as P and Kev shuffle out. He kicks the door shut. Interior, Dizzy's garage moments later. P and Kev enter. The air is heavy. P sits with his guitar. He idly plays it as is. No amp. Dizzy should focus on his love life. Not yours. Kev slowly slides down the wall until he reaches the floor. Play something. P flips the amp on. Clean channel. Neck pick up. He plays a melancholic somewhat bluesy lick. Kev closes his eyes. Guitar fills the room with a shared pain. Kev flips off the ceiling light, toggles the string lights lining the room. The warm glow offers barely more light than candles or a Christmas tree. Kev picks up his bass, turns on his amp. He plucks a single rumbling sustained note. He plays off P, driving the rhythm and weaving a harmony around P's music. Kev's groove in place. P plays a slow, sorrowful lead line. Kev adds chords as P moves in and out of rhythm and lead. Their eyes connect. The way that only can happen with music. P nods slowly at Kev, whose mouth twists slightly. P kicks to the distortion channel. They play, charged. He plays a slow, sorrowful lead line. They play, charged. More complex than during practice. The sound intricate, thoughtful and their own. Building to a furiously beautiful climax. They hit their final notes in music. Kev leans back. Shadow's covering part of his face. That took my CDs. You hung up at nine? Same difference. At least you only got the wall hit. Back on Clean Channel. P plays softly. You're not Dave Mustaine, you know. No. Bex was. I'm Kirk. Well, he's still a Metallica, yeah? You like Megadeth more than Metallica? Look, I get it. I overreacted. My bad, bro. Just... No more Bex tonight, okay? P nods. Few moments later. How did you know Yen-Sul? Kev chuckles quietly. My aunt told me that one of my parents last attempts at passion things up was weekly date nights. This was when I was almost two. So they went to Yen-Sul because my dad's an idiot and doesn't know shit about movies. Midway through, my mom turns to my dad and tells him she wants to divorce. He stands up in the middle of the theater, yelling like an asshole. You've heard him. People are screaming at him to shut the fuck up. Can't stop the movie. Now they're on their way back to the car. My mom hasn't said anything since she said she wanted to get divorced. He finally asks her why and she says, I can't be myself with you. Peace Studies Kev's face as he plays. I wish I knew what she meant, what she wanted to be, but she died the next year. I watch Yen-Sul a lot. No restaurant. She moved back to Japan. Dad won't give me her number. Kev leans into the light. Shadow King could be great, you know? That shit just now. People would die for us. We'd be all over the radio. Imagine looking out from the stage, knowing every single person there is with you, feeling what you feel. Thinking we're gods? Kev's baseline sounds similar to Nirvana after a moment. Kurt fucked me up, man. How can you give that shit up? The adoration, the recognition, he had everything. Still, like you said in Sandless Prentice, you can't fight me because I quit. They could fight him. If he walked out, they could still walk. Beat him up. Kurt fucked me up, man. How can you give that shit up? The adoration, the recognition, he had everything. Still, like you said in Sandless Prentice, you can't fire me because I quit. Fucking rockstar move. Now they talk about his genius more than when he was alive. P stops playing. He tugs at his purple beanie. Kev's base provides a dark, minor key warmth. He hurt, man. You can laugh with your friends or play music toward the world of anything. Everything's good then. In those moments, the good moments, the pain goes away. Until you remember it. And then in the moments between the laughs, you remember it. And then you can't remember how to forget it. You can wish you were someone else, anywhere else, but that's not possible. So you push it back inside and keep it there. And eventually that's all that's left. There was something beautiful once, but now it doesn't exist because there's no more space to hold it. Well, it comes every night at my house. Peace soft cords ring out as he speaks. When I was four, I wanted a cabbage patch kid more than anything. So Christmas morning, I'm tweaking, not knowing which one I'll get, because I've seen neighborhood kids with all these cool ones, like different hair, different clothes, all these colors and hairstyles. My friend Sarah had this girl with an orange jacket and sneakers, and my next her neighbor Emily had one with like big red hair. All of them were so bright and exciting and wonderful. So I'm eye-fucking this big wrapped box under the tree, while my parents make coffee, then my grandparents had to have breakfast, it's killing me. I don't think we got the presents till like 10-30. Dude. I know. Finally, I enrapped it, and there it is. Brown hair, blue overalls, blue checkered shirt. I think he had a red hat maybe, but I lost it. I hated him. Why would anyone choose him? He was boring, ugly. But I didn't want to be ungrateful, because I wanted a cabbage patch kid so bad, and I got one. My mom said my dad had gone all around town and found the last boy doll in town, so I pretended I loved it. But every time I looked at it, I knew it could have been better. But that's not what I was given. That was the first time I remember feeling the gray. It was like I didn't know if the sun still existed. Even though it was out, everything was just cold. Like I'd forgotten what warmth was, and I didn't know how to remember the sun. Maybe Kurt couldn't remember either. Maybe all he knew was cold. You got to know warmth to feel the sun. Write that down. The last thing? Right now, sick fucking lyric. The folders in the room. Kev looks around, nothing. Peasies a notebook by the drum kid. Oh, Dizzy's notebook. Kev rips out a sheet of paper, hands it to pee. Interior Dizzy's room, short time later. Pea returns with a glass of water. Dizzy and Kev begrudgingly coexist. They're on the floor, not close, but not separate. Partially eaten bon tat on plates, almost like a burrito. The tube of rice rests on the banana leaves. The pork is in the middle, surrounded by a layer of beans and then of rice. They watch naked gun 33 and a third. Kev's eyes stay on the screen. Every so often Dizzy's eyes drift to Kev. Pea gets a CD wallet and a yellow sports discman from his bag. On the bunk, he removes a disc with a white skeletal spiral. He adjusts headphones around his purple beanie. Nine-inch nails eraser starts. Insects or aliens playing instruments made of straws until the drum start pounding. Pea gazes at anonical smith on the TV. Curvy, beautiful. He carefully takes out Dad's gift. Two sealed envelopes tied with a bizarre ribbon. Guitars alternating with the classic Groucho Marx black glasses big nose mustash disguise. First letter is from Green Tree Prep. Second is St. John's. Green Tree first. We regret to inform. Pea exhales in relief. Jagga guitars crashing. The songs vocal start. Need you, dream you, find you, taste you, fuck you, use you, scar you, break you. Pea quietly and meticulously peels open the St. John's letter. Trembleing, he unfolds the paper and reads. Congratulations. He closes his eyes slowly. Deep breath. Scans further. The panel was particularly impressed by your distinct candor and courage that confirmed you are St. John's material above any other factor. The song continues. Blues me, hate me, smash me, erase me. Pea's eyes dart above the letter to his friends. Kevin Dizzy both laugh at the movie. Resentment fades, smiles turn real. The song echoes Pea's thoughts. Kill me, kill me, kill me. Kev blissfully eats the Vantec, motions Pea to push his headphones back. We'll have them our feet, dude. Pea weekly smiles. What's the headphones on? The racer continues. Kill me, kill me, kill me. End act two. Yeah! Woo! Thank you.