- Hey!

- Ahhh!  Goddammit, Today—you scared me!

- Opps, I didn't mean to.

- Don't sneak up on me like that!

- You didn't hear me come in?

- Apparently not!  (crowd laughter) Jeez, Today...and what are you doing back so early?  It's only been a couple hours.  Were you just hiding in the bushes to stalk me?

- Teacher wasn't there.

- What do mean?

- They can't find him—he's missing.

- He's missing or he just didn't show up?

- Missing—

- Cause some teachers are so good they don't have to show up.

- What?  No, they don't know where he is.

- That's his brilliance.

- What do you mean?  No one knows where he is.  The Principal said she can't get a hold of him.

- You have a Principal?

- Well, the Dean—

- You don't have a Dean.  Hamlet at a university?  Yea, right.

- Well, the head honcho came in—he's AWOL.  Kapoot!

- Kapoot means he blew up.  You're teacher can't blow up, Today—no teacher can.

- No it doesn't—it doesn't mean, blew up.

- Yes it does, Today.

- That's kablooey.  Like Louie went kablooey? (crowd laughter)

- No, it's not.

- But it is.

- You're an is.  You're a goblin market.

- You got started on your resentment list?

- And you're going straight in it.

- Item One: Skimped me on the jalapeños. 

- That's my hit list.

- You have a hit list?

- That's right, Today, it's a list I use to hit people with—the G to the O to the B to the—

- You're all caffeinated up.

- I'm going to hit 'em with a book.

- A jittery bug, you are. 

- The G to the E to the, umm, te-tete te...

- Why don't you take a breather, calm your mind.

- I did, I just had three cigarettes. (crowd laughter)

- No, I meant why don't you try to meditate—

- What—

- To relax your mind, or say a prayer—

- That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard. 

- You're going to be reliving memories, maybe ugly things.

- Why don't you take a bite of a tree and spit out peppermint bark...because you're so sweet!

- You're crazy!

- (barking) Ruff! ruff! ruff, ruff, ruff! ruff! (crowd laughter). I ate too much cake.

 

 

- Can I leave the apple on the counter?  I'm going to be late for the bus.  It's all cut up and ready.

- Why you no wanna take the carriage?

- I don't want Hannah dirtying up the street.  

- Okay.

- Yea, I saw the price of your last ticket.  That's no good—

- It's a shit ticket, that's what it is.  

- But I wouldn't dirty the street, anyhow.

- Well, I told that guy I was running into the store to get a bag for her.  But the bastard said he was already writing it, which is horseshit.  I might need your lawyering skills—I'm going to appeal it.

- You're fighting it?  On what basis?

- I don't know.  I might request the officer furbish the lab results matching it to Hannah.

- You gotta do that pre-trial.  

- Yea—

- And hope he doesn't turn it in.

- He's going to be up hands and knees in documents when I get done with him—pile a heap of paperwork on him.

- Well, don't get distracted.  Do what's in front of you first—your list.

- What?  Shut up, Today.

- Good luck.  I gotta go catch my bus.

- Hey, isn't your next case past deadline?

- Oh, I already got Hamlet a continuance.  I'm meeting with my client during his smoke break to discuss the details of his citation.

- What he do, headbutt someone?

- It looks like it's a pesky smoking ticket.

- Well, go work out your angle.  Don't forget your assignments.

- See you later, crocodile.

- It's alligator, stupid. 

- Hey, knock-knock.

- Who's there—

- Chickenbutt!

- Why did you bring up the Four Agreements?

- What do you mean?

- What is it?

- Some book, self-help or spiritual or something.  

- Oh, did you get that line from it?

- What line?

- Everything goes back to you.

- Eh, it's original, but that's the gist of it...from what I gather.

- It sounds helpful.

- It's supposed to be.  Oprah liked it.  It hasn't really helped me, but that's because my perception's tainted.

- Then maybe I'll read it if you like it.

- I didn't say I liked it.  

- But you're talking about it.

- Yea, I'm prejudiced towards it...and I haven't really read it.  One time a psychic said a woman had put a curse on me.  I was like, good guess.

- So I shouldn't read it?

- I don't give a shit if you read it.

- Okay.

- Not two fucks: fuck, fuck, goose!  Sure why not, read it.

- Okay—

- Read it read it read it—I don't give a shit, don't read it.

- I guess I'll leave you to your resentment list.  

- Why?  I sound ripe?

- Do you still want the smoothie to help you think?

- Eh, I rather sing with you.

- Don't make fun of me.

- I'll just take my apple in the morning then.

- One apple coming up.

- What are your plans after class?

- What's that?

- What are you gonna do—

- No coffee right?

- No, no more right now.  Too much caffeine with little sleep and I start looking for doomsday signs.

- That's a good idea.  Coffee would be a bad idea.  I shouldn't have asked because it makes you scared.

- It doesn't make me scared—I get anxious, like bad coke.

- Ew.

- Not good breakfast talk?

- Then what's the difference between anxiety and fear?

- Go to school, Today.  And where's my apple?  

- I'm cutting them up.

- You don't have to do that.

- Yes, I do.  I want some too.

- You know what I just remembered, Today?

- What?  Something for your list?

- Well, for my guilt list.  Reading my sister's diary.  

- Oh, recently?

- Yea, Today, yesterday.

- Yesterday?

- When we were young!

- Oh, okay.

- One page was about her weight—she was like a horse there for awhile—and one entry ended with "...and if I eat more than this today then I'm a fat pig who—"

- Oh, jeez.

- And I walked into her room saying, "...then I'm a fat pig who—"

- You read it out loud to her?

- Yea... It's like that poignant moment I relive thinking back.  She probably doesn't remember it, or think about it now, but only now I feel it.

- You feel for her.  Well, of course—it's guilt.

- No, I feel it as her.  I don't know if that makes sense.  

- I think so.

- Then I used to terrify my Chihuahua with the guitar, chase after him strumming, and he'd run and hide, and I'd stop and call him over to pet him, then start strumming and laugh as he'd scramble away.

- Little Oreo?

- My little Oreo.  The scars on my lips are from him.  Cute little mementos.  My sister picked up my lip from the rug.

 

- So what is it—and why the hell does it look like that?  You working on a ransom note?  

- I told you it was an experiment with my right hand.

- You gonna lure your new fans into your gingerbread house?

- Gross, don't joke around like that.  It's a letter to my mom.

- Today, how's she going to read that shit?

- She's not going to read it—she never is.  It's an expression of what I want to scream at her.

- Oh, it's screaming all right.  It's screaming for the neighbor's dog to shut up.  Get it?  The serial killer reference?

- Yea, I get it.  I don't have time for jokes.  My counselor's helping me grow up.

- Oh, I see.  But why with your right hand?  It looks so difficult—

- Yea, one sentence takes a lot of effort and concentration.

- But why?

- It's supposed to be real simple and elementary.

- So you choose the simplest thought because of the strain on your hand?

- Well, once I started writing and saw how hard it was, I started to realize that's the level on which my mom and I communicate.

- (whispers) No, that doesn't sound right.

- (whispers) What did I say?

- (whispers) You're too dumb to speak so properly.

- Hey!

- What do you mean Today?  What level do you communicate...on?

- The way I write is the way I talk to her.  We can't communicate on a deeper level.  

- Oh.  You can't talk about love?

- Gross!

- (chuckles) What?  Is it the language barrier?  

- What do you mean?

- It's hard for you two to express yourselves on the same plain?  

- What's that?

- Like you're on a different level with one language and she's on the opposite with another?

- Maybe.  

- You can't go to her for advice?

- There's more to it.

- Which is?

- Which is none of your business.

- Eh, like I care.  

- Sorry.

- Everything eventually comes back to how you feel about yourself, Today.

- I can understand that.

- Goddamn Four Agreements.  

- What do you mean?

- Latin lovers.

- Huh?

- You wrote a lot though.

- My counselor says sometimes when you write out something nasty you want to say to someone, you don't feel the need to say it to that person.  

- Because it's already out there?

- Yea, you can find some relief.

- Bullshit.

- Well, you and her are terminally unique.  You want to try it out for your ex?

- Not with my other hand.  She's not going to be able to read it.