Thursday, April 08, 2010

A Song For Grandma

A hospital room. An old woman lies unconscious in the bed. She’s attached to a whole variety of machines that beep and chirp and whoosh and buzz. It’s just her on stage for a bit, long enough to establish the rhythm of these machines helping to keep her alive. 

The door opens and
Mama walks in, followed by her two sons, Lance and Chris. They are both in their early 20’s. Lance wears military fatigues and his hair is buzzed Marine length. He carries an acoustic guitar. Chris is dressed in ill-fitting khakis and a polo shirt that bears the emblem of the shitty retail establishment where he works his shitty job. He even has a shitty little nametag. He carries a small portable stereo. Lance and Chris are both a bit emotional at the sight of the old woman in the bed. They kneel at her side. 

MAMA
Now she’s unconscious, but the doctor says she can still hear you.

Pause. Lance and Chris struggle with tears.

MAMA
Well go on, say something to her.

The boys look at each other.

LANCE
You first, dude.

CHRIS
          Works up nerve
Grandma? It’s me, your Chrissy.

Lance chuckles. Chris smacks him.

CHRIS
Me and Lance came to see you.

LANCE
I came from Iraq.

CHRIS
Shut up, dude! Damn. Always interrupting.
          Turns back to Grandma, starts to speak, but can’t. Smacks Lance again.
Damn dude, you made me forget what I was gonna say!

LANCE
I didn’t make you do nothing.

CHRIS
Dumb jarhead.

LANCE
At least I got in.

Chris smacks him hard, Lance smacks back, a smack fight ensues, a continuation of the same smack fight that they’ve had going since they were little boys.

MAMA
Boys!

They stop.
MAMA
I swear, what is the matter with you two? If y’all can’t behave for Grandma, then by God, you might as well just go on home. Honestly. Now Chris, you’ve had your chance to speak, why don’t you let your brother take a turn?

LANCE
I don’t know what to say.

MAMA
Just say whatever you would say to her normally.

LANCE
But she ain’t normal.

MAMA
Well just pretend she is. Just.....here.

Mama adjusts Grandma’s bed, her pillows, and her head so that she’s facing towards the boys. But of course, her eyes are still closed. Both boys are freaked out. 
MAMA
There now, just pretend like she’s got her eyes open and y’all are having a little visit.

Lance clearly does not like this. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He babbles for a few moments, then breaks down in tears. Chris is too freaked out to even make fun of his brother for crying. 

MAMA
Oh for heaven’s sakes! You can go halfway around the world to get shot at by a bunch of Muslims but you can’t even talk to your grandma without turning into a big baby.

LANCE
She’s not right!

Chris is also crying now.

MAMA
Well it ain't doing her a damn bit of good having you two come in here and bawl like a couple of babies. Good lord. Now pull it together, the both of you. Chris, why don’t you tell your grandma something nice that you remember about her?

CHRIS
Uh, well, uh....

LANCE
Fig newtons.

CHRIS
Fig newtons!

LANCE
In that glass cookie jar up on the counter in her kitchen.

CHRIS
Next to the T.V.

LANCE
And she kept that old step stool right there next to it.

CHRIS
So we could reach ‘em when we were little. Damn, I don’t even like Fig Newtons, but I ate a ton of ‘em every time we were over there.

LANCE
Me neither. They only tasted good at Grandma’s house.

Pause for a moment.

LANCE
I been in Iraq, Grandma. I been being careful like you told me to. Ain’t nothing bad happened yet. Not to me anyway. Dude in my company got blown up pretty bad.

CHRIS
You shoot anybody yet?

Lance shakes his head. Chris nods understanding.

CHRIS
Seen anybody get shot?

Lance nods.

CHRIS
Bad guys?

Lance nods.

CHRIS
Cool.

Pause.

MAMA
Boys, why don’t y’all tell Grandma about your music?

CHRIS
Oh yeah. Um, should I just tell her about it?

MAMA
Well of course. Go on.

LANCE
Go ahead, dude.

CHRIS
Grandma, you remember how me and Lance used to have a band with Trevor and them? We had to quit when Lance went off to the Marines.

LANCE
Y’all ain’t had to.

CHRIS
We ain’t had no guitar player, dummy.

LANCE
What about Lucy’s brother?

CHRIS
I don’t like that dude. I’m trying to talk to Grandma here.

LANCE
Then talk.

CHRIS
Damn. Um....what was I saying?

LANCE
The new song.

Lance grabs his guitar and starts tuning it.

CHRIS
Oh right. Um, Grandma, we been writing this new song since Lance got back a couple of days ago. We were gonna play it for you, if you want us to.

MAMA
I think she’d like that.

LANCE
You sure the doctors and them ain’t gonna mind?

MAMA
We’re paying for a private room, ain’t we?

CHRIS
You sure she can hear us?

MAMA
I don't see why not. Go on. Play your song.

Chris queues up the portable stereo. Lance is seated, guitar in his lap, ready to play.

CHRIS
Ready?

Lance nods. Chris presses play on the stereo which bursts forth with a southern-style hip-hop beat. Chris dances accordingly, Lance bobs his head and taps his foot, but he does not, I repeat, he does NOT play a note on his guitar. Mama sits and watches, seemingly pleased. 

Finally it’s lyrics time. Lance and Chris trade off back and forth.

Bitch!
    Take them panties off!
    Take them panties off!
Bitch!
    Take them panties off!
    Take them panties off!
                Take em off!
    Take them panties off!
    Take them panties off!
Bitch!
    Take them panties off!
    Take them panties off!
Bitch!
    Take them panties off!
    Take them panties off!
                Take em off!
    Take them panties off!
    Take them panties off!

This repeats for as long as necessary in order for it to go from ridiculous to just plain stupid. Somewhere during the song a nurse enters to check some vitals. She pays them absolutely no mind while she goes about her business, then exits.

The song finally ends with boy boys yelling:

    Beeeyotch!

Lance strums an A-minor chord.

CHRIS
Dumbass! E-minor!

LANCE
I like A-minor better.

CHRIS
I don't care what you like. It’s supposed to be an E.

LANCE
Says you.

CHRIS
That’s right, says me.

LANCE
I’m the guitar player.

CHRIS
You’re the dipshit.

Lance stands, chest puffed out all fighting rooster-style.

MAMA
Boys! That’s enough. It sounded very nice, whatever chord it was.

LANCE
A-minor.

MAMA
Okay, that’s probably enough for today. We should get going. We’re meeting your Aunt Louise at the Golden Corral in 30 minutes and I need to swing by the Wal-Mart for some pantyhose. Y’all kiss Grandma goodbye now.

The boys take turns kissing Grandma goodbye and telling her they love her. They exit, followed by Mama.

Grandma is once again alone on stage, and I find myself with a choice to make. Part of me wants to do something fucked up like have her heart stop, as indicated by having her heartbeat monitor go flat line, with the little beeps suddenly turning into a long continuous beep. Nurses rushing in and all that. But that seems so cliche. On the other hand, I want to do something kind of sweet like have her give a sign of life, maybe a twitch of her hand, or maybe even open her eyes, maybe even say something. But that seems cliche too. 

I seem to run into this question a lot in my writing: do the fucked up thing or the sort of sweet thing? 

In the end, what I would probably go with is to have nothing change. Just leave Grandma on stage, just as she was at the beginning, as the lights fade out. Visiting hours are over.

What'chall think?

3 comments:

Dan said...

Good stuff as always.

and I think just leave here there personally.

Either that or have someone come in and indicate somehow that she's been dead all along. Like cover her face or something.

sybil law said...

I always vote for something fucked up, but that's more because I'm crazy.
Or something.

Funny if her heart monitor beeped to the southern style hip hop beat.
:)

Bubblewench said...

I'd have grama wake up confused, not know who or where she was and have the urge to take her panties off...

Nice scripting! I could see the entire scene in my head...