Short Play

In a mall at noon. The sun is coming through the sky light, and a man in a blue dress shirt and tie is walking next to the janitor. The man in the blue dress shirt and tie points up at the sky light, and grins. The janitor stops, frowns, and writes something in a notepad with blue ink, before they both walk off. Mechanical children's laughter can be heard coming from a roller coaster simulation ride. A man wearing a red baseball hat walks past the roller coaster simulation ride with a toddler in a plaid navy blue and white button down shirt. The toddler takes off and sits in the seat of the roller coaster simulation.

MAN IN RED BASEBALL HAT: Yo, we gotta go!

The toddler laughs and screams as he pretends he is going down a huge hill.

MAN IN RED BASEBALL HAT: I ain't playin! Ya wit me, not yo mom remember?

The toddler puts his arms up towards the ceiling and sways back and forth.

MAN IN RED BASEBALL HAT: Not goin to tell ya again, LET'S GO!

The toddler stares into the screen and keeps laughing.

MAN IN RED BASEBALL HAT: Aight. That's how ya want to do it little homie.

The man in the red baseball hat shrugs his shoulders, then grabs the child's forearm, yanks him out of the roller coaster simulation, and starts walking dragging the toddler behind him. The toddler looks back.

TODDLER: Noooooo!

The man in the red baseball hat leans down closer to the toddler while still walking.

MAN IN RED BASEBALL HAT: Na I ain't puttin up wit this shit. Ya don't know who ya fuckin wit. I'm the king! Not ya! Don't let no kids run me.

The man in the red baseball hat walks the toddler out of the mall's front entrance. Mechanical children's laughter can be heard coming from the empty roller coaster simulation ride.

Underwear Project: teal silk g-string, black leggings, black mini skirt, white/mint push up bra, and dark gray low v-neck t-shirt.

i bought an at home pregnancy test from the drug store down the street from your parents' house, pissed on the strip, and waited 15 minutes.

two blue lines.

negative.

i still haven't had my period.

but we celebrate.

your cock is hard and warm, my tongue massaging the stress out of your sensitive skin.

relief.

i spit parts of our children: miniature limbs, fingers, bald heads, toothless gums, and crying eyes, into the toilet, rinse with mouthwash, brush their tiny bones, and soft sticky skin off the surface of my teeth, and flush.

i love you, but neither of us are ready for that responsibility, and i don't think we will ever be.

that's okay, because at least we realize that unlike so many other dumb fucks that inhabit this world, we don't believe that kids are the solution to all our problems; we believe that answer lies somewhere inside ourselves, if only we could find it.

neither of us have the ability to raise and control another human being, hell we can't even control ourselves, but trust me we're working on it, even though, right now it's not going so well, except for not being pregnant.

we shoot up our final bags, take a couple of xanax, smoke a joint, and then a cig out of our bedroom window, then eat some twizzlers, and birthday cake oreos for dinner, before you turn the lights off and put on a bbc documentary about creatures that live in the deep ocean, and their mating habits.

both of us crawl into bed, and kill the remaining seconds of the day with the words, "good night" and "i love you," until we slip out of consciousness wrapped in each other's arms.

tomorrow, i'll spread my legs, and it will be your turn to get me off, which shouldn't be a problem because your tongue is fully rested.