Mister Bones
Doe

Scene:

Early morning. A desolate, brown section of highway. Silence, or perhaps a slight sound of wind pushing sand across the landscape. No background. There is a speed limit sign midstage right (not too far right - Mister Bones later enters from stage right and needs room) with several sections of the black paint lettering chipped off by time. Sign has been vandalized so it reads "650 MPH".

DOE is sitting, leaned up against the sign. He is throwing pebbles from the ground, trying to get them into his right shoe, which sits somewhere further stage left. He is dressed inexpensively and seems comfortable. He has nothing with him but his shoes (one on, one off) and these pebbles from the ground. He stands and gets his shoe. Counts.

DOE, laughing:
Four in five!

Returns shoe, sits back down, continues.

Enter MISTER BONES from stage right. He wears formal dress pants and a white collared shirt, a grotesquely large watch, suspenders. A lot of junk in his pockets - keys, thick wallet, scraps of paper.

His eyes are wide and through these next few moments he is unlike himself - very free, physically and emotionally. He stands with his legs apart; he makes wide gestures with his hands to supplement his speech. He seems unfamiliar with this kind of posture, awkward, but eager to learn it.

MISTER BONES:
Did you walk from back there?

DOE throws a pebble. Misses. Curses.

MISTER BONES:
How long have you been here?

Long pause.

MISTER BONES:
Hello.

DOE:
Hey, what’s up?

MISTER BONES:
Listen to me.

As he speaks, DOE continues to throw pebbles.

MISTER BONES:
About three miles in the opposite direction, I’m walking. I realize I’m possibly running late. I run. There’s a trashcan or some garbage on the road ahead of me. Rolled onto the side, out of traffic. Of course there is no traffic, but if there were... I get closer. Some blowing sand in my eye for a moment. I block it out with my forearm, and clear as day, right on the shoulder is the corpse of Lassie. Not Lassie, at any rate, but dead. I don’t know how this happens, but you ever notice how roadkill is torn up? What happens to pigeons and possums happened to this dog. Almost fake looking, really. It just lay there with its head turned away and its stomach turned towards me, shiny, rubbery. Just falling out like a painting. I get closer and I look at its face. The corners of its mouth are drooping down and a few of its teeth sticking out and it looks just like it’s a human being in pain, crying. Smells horrible. Flies buzzing in my eyelashes. To a normal person, a horrible experience, granted? I was giddy. I wanted to start a parade, tickertape flying in the air, trombones… Souza, men in tall red hats. Parade, screaming, into the City, past the junkies and the dealers, the hobos and the liquor store owners, past you and my Mom, and the President of the United States and Walt Disney and the Pope and Mother Theresa's grave and yell, "Good morning everybody, Old Yeller has been run over, and it's an ugly sight! The bidding for the coat will begin sharply at noon! Don't miss your chance to own a piece of everybody’s best friend! Come one, come all, it's gonna be a great show!"

Realizes himself. Resumes his natural posture. Reserved, tight, and intelligent. Pressured.

MISTER BONES:
This tells me something. Doe, it’s not like me, to say the least. One must wonder what is happening. There is an explanation. Perhaps sunstroke. Unfortunately, the sun doesn’t seem to much be out this early…

Doe continues to throw pebbles. Mister Bones sits exhaustedly.

DOE:
Damn right, it’s early. Can’t barely see the sun yet.

MISTER BONES:
What?

DOE:
Can’t believe you went all the way back. I slept here.

MISTER BONES:
Excuse me?

DOE:
Actually... did I sleep? I don’t remember sleeping... I been dreaming lately where all that goes on is I lie here trying to sleep. Can't tell the difference between lying here awake and dreaming about lying here.

MISTER BONES:
Was there nothing interesting I just said other than that it happens to be early in the morning?

DOE:
Jesus, Bones. Calm down. I'm tired.

MISTER BONES:
Okay, forget it. You win.

DOE:
Whatever.

MISTER BONES:
Whatever?

DOE:
Look, whatever's eating you, forget it man. Probably not fun to start the morning this way. Do you have any food?

MISTER BONES:
Did you just ignore everything I just said?

DOE:
No, I been with you the whole time.

MISTER BONES:
I'd think you'd be a little more interested. Impressed, maybe.

DOE:
By what? You’ve just been whining at me for ten minutes.

MISTER BONES:
I've been here for four minutes, friend, and you only started talking one-and-a-half minutes ago.

DOE:
Technical, Jesus. Whatever.

MISTER BONES:
So you weren't paying attention.

DOE:
I told you, I've been here listening and asking you how your morning was since you showed up. You walk over, I ask you how you're doing. What the hell is up with you?

MISTER BONES:
And all the stuff about... the dog and the parade?

DOE:
Your point?

MISTER BONES:
I just now walked here and talked to you and said something important. There is no counterpoint. This is not some pathetic twist of my mind. This is an event of humanity, a goddamn leap for me.

DOE:
Relax. Fuckin` drama queen.

MISTER BONES:
Something is very wrong.

DOE:
Whatever. Take a seat, you're bothering me. Can you believe they told us to come back again today? What do they still need us for?

MISTER BONES, rubs his eyes:
Nothing.

DOE:
Then why the hell do we go? If they need us for nothing?

MISTER BONES:
No, idiot, not nothing.

DOE waits for the explanation. It does not come. He resumes the ritual of the pebbles and the shoe. Lights change. Brighter, blaring.

DOE:
So how has your morning been so far?

MISTER BONES:
Usual. You?

DOE:
I’m tired.

DOE gets his shoe. Comes back and starts counting pebbles.

DOE:
Damn it. Damnit! Can you believe this?

MISTER BONES:
I wouldn't know.

Lights get darker during the following line.

DOE:
Look at this! My work is suffering! Normally, it’s a good three out of four get right in there. Last year I was down to three in five -

MISTER BONES:
I don’t remember that.

DOE:
- A month ago it was one in two. This morning I barely cleared one in four.

MISTER BONES:
Of course you're getting sloppy - look at you! You don't get any sleep because you're always either throwing those stupud pebbles around or running to catch up with the schedule. You don't walk very fast, Doe, and you should really plan for that, and start walking earlier. You're hurting yourself.

DOE:
Look, just ‘cause you’re a faster walker... You have longer legs. We both get there at the same time. I just get less sleep.

MISTER BONES:
You never listen. You don't need to always worry about getting there early; just the first week. The first week is the most important. Every time. So you walk fast for a week, and then it’s not so bad. It’s a simple process with a simple solution.

DOE:
How come, then, you’re always walking fast?

MISTER BONES:
Well, I’ve been doing this so long, I can’t remember which weeks are new and which are old. So I walk quickly all the time and play it safe. It’s good for me.

DOE:
What if it never ends, eh? They’re all old weeks, and they just keep coming?

MISTER BONES:
It would appear not.

DOE:
If you had one half an idea what you were talking about I’d throw away my shoes.

Pause.

DOE:
Back off.

Pause.

DOE:
You said yourself they don’t need us. We don’t do anything.

MISTER BONES:
That’s not what I said at -

DOE:
What is it that makes you think that going every day and plodding home every night makes you better?

MISTER BONES:
Do you think I enjoy it? Have you concocted some delusion in your paranoia-stricken mind, you simp, that I plan on doing this forever?

DOE:
Simp?

MISTER BONES:
I’m not a good person because I show up. I just work with what circumstances I am given. You tell me I’m a tool of some conspiratory system, I tell you that there is no system but this: we have been making this walk every day for as long as I can remember -

DOE:
Sure, I don’t care.

MISTER BONES:
- And the ultimate goal here, in our life, is to eventually leave. I know for my part that I will never be able to leave so long as I don’t fulfill my end of the, uh... the... I don’t know, we have a contract or some such, don’t we?

DOE, shrugging:
I just go ‘cause you do.

MISTER BONES:
In any event, we do what we have been called to do, or we fight it. And there’s no option but to fight forever until we are old. I plan on leaving. So if you want to tell me I’m being used by the "system," I feel sorry for you. You’ll be stuck here. I’ll leave. I’m using it.

DOE:
Fine. Didn’t ask for a monologue. Goddamned manifesto. You’re wrong, anyway.

Pause.

MISTER BONES takes out his wallet and begins the following ritual, which consumers all of his attention: (1) He removes the money from the main pocket, (2) arranges the bills in order of monetary value from small in the front to high in the back and by mint date in cases of equal values, (3) places the stack of money on the ground while he (4) removes the remaining contents of the wallet, which is mostly identification cards, and rearranges them in order of expiration date, from nearest to farthest from the current date, (5) finds an expired card and shudders as if it were bitter food, perhaps mutters to himself, (6) destroys the expired card with a pair of scissors from his breast pocket, offering the remains to DOE who is no longer looking at him, and finally (7) replaces the identification cards in the wallet and does likewise with the money. He puts his wallet back in his pocket.

DOE has been periodically trying to decipher the ritual, getting frustrated, shut out, angry, dejected, and finally jaded. He looks discontentedly at his shoe again. He begins to speak about when MISTER BONES is on step (4) of his ritual, and they finish in sync.

DOE:
I know I sound stupid when I talk to you. I'm sorry. I... I don't wish I was what you were but I... I just don't...

Sighs, frustrated with himself.

DOE:
You know why this shoe is so important!? You don’t, do you? Totally beyond you. Let me tell you, my friend, why I am not stupider than you, and why I will win this little wager! When I’m at the top of my game, it’s four out of five in this baby. Soon it’ll be seven out of eight and then nine out of ten and eventually it’ll be ninety-nine out of a hundred. I’ll be so God damn good at this racket, you’ll stare like a doll with wide baby eyes, and I’ll travel. I’ll go all over this forsaken country, and you know how I’ll survive without this lifestyle? Easy. I’ll gamble with barflies and bartenders. I’ll go in, order a drink, and brag like hell, paint a picture. People will hate me like I was you. They'll be jealous and bitter because I'm so sure of myself. And I’ll say "See this pebble? I can throw it from here to the bottle at the end of the bar and get it right down the neck!" Nobody’d believe that, would they? Not even you, I imagine. But I’ll be able to do it. I’ll sucker ‘em, and I’ll make hundreds of dollars a night. And then I’ll drive in my beautiful car to the next town, and the next bar. And you’ll see me sometime when you’re old and still walking here and think, "No way he can get that pebble in there!" And you’ll bet me everything you have, because if you win on that maybe you figger you’ll be able to finally leave. But you’ll lose.

Pause.

DOE:
How’s that sound? You ready to give me your money? I’d take it!

Pause.

DOE:
Probably. If I managed it. Fuck it, I'm sorry. Nevermind.

MISTER BONES:
It's all right. It doesn’t matter, really.

DOE:
Wait...

MISTER BONES, sincerely: I’m sorry. I really would like to take you with me. I would. If I could help you, you know I would, don't you?

DOE:
What? We weren’t talking about that anymore! I was talking about... Fuck you! Complain about me, saying -

MISTER BONES:
If you're choosing not to be civil I will continue my walk. I’ve waited too long here anyway.

DOE:
What?

MISTER BONES:
Okay.

Gets up to leave.

DOE:
No, wait, I'm sorry. I... forget about it, s'fine. I wasn't making any sense.

MISTER BONES:
I could have told you that.

MISTER BONES smiles as if he expects this to be taken as any other joke; he didn't mean it with any cruelty. He laughs awkwardly as DOE stares incredulously for a moment, pride already hurt. He takes a final stab at it:

DOE:
You're frightened, aren't you?

MISTER BONES:
Of what - not making sense?

DOE:
You think you’re gonna be here forever anyway. No matter what you do.

MISTER BONES:
Not at all. I know when I’m leaving.

DOE:
When?

MISTER BONES:
When it’s over.

DOE:
When is that?

Lights bright again.

MISTER BONES:
How long you think it’ll take you to be able to throw a pebble in a goddamned bottle? You don’t even have one to practice with!

DOE:
What’s the difference? I get good enough in a shoe the progression to a bottle is natural!

MISTER BONES:
You sound like you’re drowning.

DOE:
At least I know I can’t breathe underwater.

MISTER BONES:
Can we avoid the nonsense rhetoric, if you please?

DOE:
See, you’re never gonna do nothing, ‘cause you’re scared. You wanna ride it all out. Me? I’m not brilliant like you are. I don’t know all the best routes to walk. I don’t sleep much. But I -

MISTER BONES:
You don’t know where to go, do you?

DOE:
I know where we’re supposed to go, yeah. Right over there.

DOE gestures stage left.

MISTER BONES:
No, I mean when you leave.

MISTER BONES gestures out to the audience, indicating the vast desert around them.

MISTER BONES:
Over there. You don’t have the slightest idea what’s over there, do you? I don’t remember that I’ve ever seen you go ten feet away from the freeway!

DOE:
You know, if I wanted to badly enough, I could kill you.

MISTER BONES:
Right. Like you'd ever want anything that badly.

DOE:
I can do anything I want to as long as I'm willing to deal with the consequences. And then when I deal with them I can still do anything because I can deal with the consequences of that. I’m free. You haven’t done anything. You never will, either. You're trapped, Mister Bones. And you'll never free yourself.

Pause.

MISTER BONES:
Maybe I already have.

Pause.

DOE, incredulous:
Come on!

MISTER BONES:
Sure.

DOE:
What could you possibly do?

MISTER BONES:
Guess.

DOE:
So? What did you do?

MISTER BONES:
Guess. Guess, my friend, because you are nothing.

DOE:
I'm nothing?

MISTER BONES:
You heard me.

DOE, not angry but intrigued:
You better be able to back that up, boy.

MISTER BONES:
It's not so hard to get a gun as you might think.

DOE:
Okay, if you're gonna mess with me, I have work to do, all right? Write it down. It’ll make a good story. I’ll be working on my pebbles over here, `kay?

MISTER BONES:
Wouldn’t it be interesting if I shot that dog? Maybe if I ripped it up with my hands?

DOE considers for a moment.

DOE:
Bullshit.

MISTER BONES:
Look, you want me to show you? Shall I show you the gun?

DOE:
You don't have a gun.

MISTER BONES pulls a gun out of his pocket and points it at DOE.

DOE:
All right, if you're going to be playing with me, you should tell me now, because you're really going on a limb if you're trying to make me laugh. You killed a dog by pointing your index finger at him and cocking your thumb and saying bang six times? Is that whatcha did?

MISTER BONES steps towards DOE, threatening him, but stuttering.

MISTER BONES:
This is it. This killed him. Not my fucking fingers!

DOE:
You don't have a gun and you never will. (A), you don't know how to get one. (B), you wouldn't if you could because you wouldn't do that. (C), get your hand out of my face. Look, if you're gonna try to become a person, at least do it rationally. Making stuff up is pathetic. You’re acting like a baby.

DOE walks over to his shoe and dumps it out. Sets it down, comes back and starts collecting pebbles from the ground.

MISTER BONES:
You think I'm weak? You?

DOE:
Really, man, how many ways can I say it?

MISTER BONES fires the gun at DOE six times. DOE is unaffected. MISTER BONES stares for a moment, then sits down, crippled. Lights start to go down, VERY slowly. They should be almost black by the last line.

DOE:
I'm sorry. You're stuck. It's okay. So am... so is everybody.

DOE finally notices the brightness of the sky starting to dim. Panics.

DOE:
I’m late! Damnit, I have to go!

DOE tries to pull on his shoe, realizes painfully that there are still pebble in it. Pulls it off and dumps them out franticly, pulls it back on. There are still pebbles in it.

DOE:
I have to go... are you coming?

MISTER BONES:
It didn't hit you.

DOE:
One way or another this has been an off morning for you. Fuhggedaboudit. We gotta go. It's so goddamned hard to walk in these shoes. Are you coming or what?

MISTER BONES slumps to the ground, leaning on the sign.

MISTER BONES:
No. We're both staying.

DOE:
What are you talking about? We have to go!

MISTER BONES:
No. We're staying here and figuring out this whole mess.

DOE:
Okay, you stay here and do whatever you need to, I'm going.

MISTER BONES:
If you leave me here I am going to kill myself.

DOE:
Whatever.

MISTER BONES:
Look at me. I will kill myself if you leave now.

DOE:
I can't fucking believe you. Why the hell would you kill yourself?

MISTER BONES:
We can go together. We can just walk into the sunrise over there, we'll find something. There is a place out past the horizon. All right? I'll jump. I'll go with you.

DOE:
That is the single stupidest thing you have ever said! I'm right? Look at me, Bones! You didn't know I'm a failure? Was I not making it clear enough for you?

MISTER BONES:
Failure, sure. But at least you have an idea.

DOE:
You know what my friggin` idea is, my friend? I'm doing exactly what you said we need to do! I'm just keeping myself floating with the notion of escaping, and that's all it is, you idiot.

MISTER BONES:
You're a liar. We don't need to keep going every day. We just go because we don't know what else to do. You said you wanted to do this and I'm agreeing with you, let's go!

DOE:
You're such a spineless loser. You stand there and whine at me about killing yourself if I don't stay here or go with you. You need me? Bullshit. You've been doing this work so long, you haven't built up one single shred of backbone? Well fuck you! You lied to me.

MISTER BONES:
Please don't go.

DOE:
I have to go. I have to watch my own ass. Like you said, Bones.

MISTER BONES:
You can't leave. Your shoes are ruined. You need to stay.

DOE:
I had another pair around here, a pair I could walk in, I hadn’t used. This is really painful. Where are they? Did you see them?

Moment of silence. Both stare at each other.

DOE:
You got no idea?

MISTER BONES cannot speak. Exit DOE. Long pause. MISTER BONES watches him go, drops the gun, and sits alone. He removes and frantically arranges his shoe and sits away from it; then he grabs a handfull of pebbles and tries DOE's game. He fails totally. He turns to the gun, lifts it, jabs the barrel to his throat, and starts to pull the trigger. The hammer pulls back. He inhales.

Blackout.

We hear the shallow, loud click of the hammer firing. A body slumps.

End.

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