That's Life

The stage is mostly empty except for a cluttered desk in the centre, an office chair behind it and an overflowing waste paper bin to the side. Enter stage left Robert in Hawaiian shorts and a plain blue t-shirt. His hair is a mess and it looks as if he hasn't shaved for a few days. Robert seems unsure of his desk as if he should clean it. He yawns and takes a seat.

Should I get some coffee?

Coughs.

Talking to myself again aren't I?

Rubs his chin and sighs. He lifts a laptop onto his desk.

I need to write this damn book. It's taken me weeks and I have only written two chapters. Is it the theme? I mean come on; zombies can't be that hard to base a book on? I did it once didn't I? Besides, all they do is stagger around and just go blahhh...

He raises his arms and makes a zombie growl, his tongue sticks out.

Do I even like zombies? Who am I even talking to? Goddamit!

Throws his hands up in defeat and looks around.

It's absolute bullshit writing this book. But the fans are expecting it. Aren't you?

He stands, looking out towards the crowd as if he is performing.

Fans eh? God, I wish I wasn't a writer. I could be a performer instead... A singer! Everyone – and I mean everyone – loves singers. Look at all the so-called talent such as those One-D lot. If I was a singer I would be like Billy Joel! Proper talent. I used to play in a band before, guitars and occasionally I would play the keyboard. Then I didn't go to university, and my family broke apart, and all my dreams went out the window.

Besides, everyone know that like... Like four percent of the world reads books and like another billion percent like's music.

He leans across and grabs a mug and a decanter of whiskey, pouring the whiskey with a shaking hand he smiles.

"Sing us a song you're the piano-man. Sing us a song tonight. Na na nana da da dadada. Something about feeling alright... I'm not very good at remembering stuff though. What if I forget my lyrics on stage?"

Staring into the glass he picks it up and takes a sip.

Still warm, kinda...

Once I properly performed on stage. It was just a small "gig" for my school's year 11 prom night. Free of charge of course, they were a pretty damn cheap school. So there we were, me, Tony, Sam and "Lil-Frankie". His real name was Franklin; it's too embarrassing, apparently. Anyways, there we were playing "The Power of Love" by Huey Lewis. Y'know, the one from Back to the Future? All these people were pressed up against each other and dancing, the atmosphere was amazing. Suddenly this hella-good-looking girl collapsed in front of the stage. So in my typical macho-man way I jumped off the stage and carried this poor girl outside. Our song was cut short and we went and took her to the hospital in the bandwagon as I called it. Or the babe magnet according to Tony.

She was fine in the end, just a bit too drunk. We got to know each other fairly well and we dated briefly, then she went to university and I stayed in my home town.

God, who even uses the term Babe-magnet anymore?

Robert looks away wistfully.

One of my favourite memories was with her actually. We were just sitting on the roof of the house, doing that cheesy best-friend thing watching the sunset go down and we were just chatting y'know. I leant towards her to kiss her then suddenly...

He grins while looking down.

Suddenly this pizza box was thrown up at us, hitting me on the head. We had ordered pizza about half an hour beforehand and it had finally arrived. On my head. We were laughing for ages until we finally climbed down and went inside, the sunset long gone. That was when my entire family was together, before Dad left and Mum went ape-shit and started doing bad things.

The smile drops.

My mum kicked me out of my house in then end. She'd begun to beat me and would refuse to let me do things. She never bought food so some nights I went hungry while she disappeared to some shitty ass Johnny Fiesta's Margarita restaurant with her man friends then bring 'em home. Usually she'd bring them in before screwing them, but a couple of times I'd hear them in his car or even on the front garden.

He laughs, though he seems embarrassed. Looking up towards the audience.

She felt that being 21 years old is too old to live with your parents... Or some other bullshit she read in "Mum's Know Best Weekly". I remember the conversation now;

He puts on a voice for both his mother and him.

"Yer an indolent, stupid child that is ungrateful and just sits around on yer arse all day long. Well yer out of my house buddy boy. Yer gon'a have to get yer own job and yer own house."

"Yeah, well maybe I wouldn't be so 'ungrateful' and lazy if I had a father figure and not an inept affair-loving woman with a new boyfriend every other damn night. Maybe if you weren't so damn useless as a mother and spent your money on an education for me, hell if you spent your money on food!"

She cried after that. But I didn't comfort her. I went upstairs and packed my belongings and left and never saw her again. I would like to say I miss her, but I don't.

The rest of my life has been pretty boring. I moved in with my Dad and began to write my first book. I got it published and earned enough to buy my first car and a small apartment in London. I still see Dad; we meet up every couple of weeks. He always has a new bird clinging onto his arm though each of them younger than the last. But yeah, that's life. I do kinda wish I went to university though.

He sits himself down smiling; he runs his fingers through his curly bed hair, screwing his face up as if he is trying to forget something.

I should continue with this book shouldn't I?