A One Minute Play
(He is lying on the floor, his legs in the air, balancing a large aquarium on his feet with some difficulty. She is standing behind him, holding a bag of groceries.)
She: I fucking hate you sometimes.
He: I know.
He: Because it feels better.
She: I can think of things to feel better.
He: Don’t say the same old.
She: Like what?
He: Everyone always says—you know, sex. Or a sunrise walk on a windswept beach.
She: Those feel pretty good.
He: No they don’t. You get sweaty. You get cold. You get grit in your teeth.
She: And walks on the beach have their own problems. But there are other things.
(She looks at He for a long moment, despairing.)
She: Kitchen floor underwear dancing.
She: The first bite of cheesecake.
He: Taking off wet jeans.
She: Crossing the last thing off your to-do list.
He: Getting the last seat in the house.
She: Bubble wrap!
He: Sitting down in the shower!
She: Winking at strangers!
He: Fall back!
She: Mahna Mahna!
He: Peeling the lint trap in one fell swoop!
She: The delayed pee. The delayed pee is the best feeling ever.
He: Yeah. Yeah, it is. (pause) You win, I guess.
(He puts the aquarium down, sadly.)
He: You could’ve at least gotten down here with me.
(She stands over him, pulls grapes one at a time from the grocery bag and drops them into his mouth.)
She: I’ll never get down there with you. I will always be above you.
He: (through a mouthful of grapes) Flu…mer…sph.