The Unfinished Dialogues of Smith and Doe

Act One, Scene Two

[The lights turn back on, Doe and Smith are sweaty and disheveled. Ink smears both of their palms from mishandled ink ribbons]

Doe: Perhaps we could take a break?

Smith: No.

Doe: Please?

Smith: We said we would work on something until we made something.

Doe: Could we not write half of something down and call it a day?

Smith: You would write 'something' and leave.

Doe: Not true! We just need to put anything on this paper and we can leave, right?

[Smith sighs.]

Smith: Yes.

[Doe puts a clean sheet into the typewriter and types "anything"; they then look at each other and laugh after a comedic pause]

[Some time passes; this is marked by the clock in the room speeding up and the sound of a grandfather clock chiming]

Doe: Why did we become authors in the first place?

Smith: We had a good idea for a book.

Doe: Ideas, you mean.

Smith: Well, idea. Singular.

Doe: We have a few good books, don't lie to the audience.

[Doe gestures to the right wall]

Smith: Our first was the only good one.

Doe: They all sold well! We even got that big newspaper to promote us several times!

Smith: You know our publicist bought that endorsement, right? Besides, how can you trust the invisible hand to pick a decent apple?

Doe: Why are you so cynical?

Smith: That's just how I was raised!

Doe: That's a lazy reason, you know. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, but it doesn't have to try and grow the same branches.

Smith: Oh, fuck off.

Doe: Just think about it!

Smith: It's because my life was shitty growing up.

Doe: You can tell me about it.

Smith: Choke on your tongue.

[They take turns typing some more, the lights turn off and on shortly afterwards to

indicate the passage of time.]

Doe: Is there any future in fictional writing?

Smith: Probably not.

Doe: Why do you say that?

Smith: You tell me a good plot for a fictional story that's worth reading. I mean realistic fiction, not some high fantasy shit like we watched in college while we were stoned out of our minds.

Doe: Alright.

[Doe pauses]

Doe: The internet is rather new, what if we wrote a book that takes place entirely over AOL instant messaging?

Smith: AIM? Jesus Christ, you're out of touch.

[They both look at the typewriter, and give a comedic pauses as if to make a joke that

would not land]

Doe: You're no help, give me a plot then.

Smith: I don't have one! That's why I'm asking you.

Doe: Fine, fine... What about: two people. And they do nothing but talk for the entire time.

Smith: Isn't that "Waiting for Godot"?

Doe: Perhaps.

Smith: We aren't playwrights.

Doe: I know that! You asked for a plot and I gave you one.

Smith: And it's a shitty one at that.

Doe: Hey! It's not that bad!

Smith: You call this good writing then?

[Smith gestures to their dialogue.]

[They give each other a look, as if they understand they are actors.]

Doe: Anyway.

Smith: Have we discussed philosophy yet?

Doe: Probably not. We save that for last when we're bored.

Smith: Then what should we talk about

Doe: The philosophy of language?

Smith: Why?

Doe: We're authors.

[Both of them glance at the back wall, where both of their diplomas hang in frames.]

Smith: Oh. right.

[Scene fades to black]