2This is my final for the second semester of Drama, homebrew, Mk II. I might update it later if I edit the script any more. Please tell me what you think, as this is my first attempt at writing a tragic scene. Thank you.
STUDENT: (walks in) This is just great. I woke up late, so I didn't get any breakfast, and I'm also late for my first class…as If Mr. Droves wasn't already mad enough at me. It's gonna be a long day. Oh, hey. I don't suppose you know me, do you? Everyone who does tries their best to completely avoid me. Well, my name is Michael Young. I'm a senior at Riverside High in Putah, California, and my life is hell. I don't know when it started, but I've always been the person everyone shits on. Every day, I go to school, and get my brain pounded on by Mr. Droves, my first period English teacher. I corrected him in front of class once, and he hasn't forgiven me. Then, immediately before lunch, I always have my money stolen from me by two thugs named Joe Gomez and Moe Martinez. This has been going on for the past five years. I've learned by now to bring a lunch. The worst part of all of this is that I can't even go home to a safe haven of any kind. Ever since my mom died, my dad has been constantly drunk, and he's not a happy drunk. I can barely draw a breath without getting belted, some days. Well, I guess I've bored you long enough. Time to face the world. (Scene Change)
(MICHAEL enters from door, Shakes head. Followed by JOE and MOE)
JOE: (To MOE) Dude…you wanna have some fun? (Glances meanly at STUDENT)
MOE: Alright, let's go. (To STUDENT) Hey nerd! Yeah, you. How bad do you think you flunked?
MICHAEL: Go away (Whispered, to self) Oh, no, not again…
MOE: What was that? Go away? (to JOE) Who does he think he is?
JOE: Whoever he is…he better have some money (Grins)
MICHAEL: NO! I'm not giving you my money again.
MOE: Oh, I think you are. We do this for your own good, you know.
MICHAEL: How is that?
JOE: We'll kick the shit out of you if we don't do it. Get it, wimp?
MOE: Now pay up.
MICHAEL: What if I don't have any?
JOE: Then your teeth don't stay put for another day.
MICHAEL: Look, guys, I need my lunch today. (Tenses up) I'm not gonna give you the damn money!
MOE: Fine then. Joe, lets go. (turns, MICHAEL relaxes. MOE spins on heel, and jabs fist right into MICHAEL's gut) Now give us the money.
MICHAEL: OW! Okay, here it is…owww…
JOE: Thanks a bunch, bitch. See ya tomorrow. (JOE and MOE walk toward wings, and freeze)
MICHAEL: (to audience) This is my daily life. Every day, I go to school just to have my lunch money stolen by those jerks. This is the first time I've tried standing up to them…I don't think I'll do that again…oww…)
(GIRL enters from door, MICHAEL is standing up)
GIRL: Hey! Are you alright?
MICHAEL: Yeah, I guess so…I just got beat up
GIRL: (without conviction) That's too bad. Could you please tell me where the Art building is?
MICHAEL: It's the one just across from us on the quad. So yeah, those two thugs beat me up and stole my money, so now I have a whole lunch period to look forward to without anything to do except sit and pick at grass…I don't have to tell you, do I, that everyone hates me here? Oh yeah, you're new, aren't you? But I suppose you know. Do you know Mr. Droves yet? He's the Vice Principal and English teacher. He's the guy in charge of discipline, but he never stops Joe and Moe. I wonder (cell phone rings, GIRL pulls it out of her pocket)
GIRL: I'm sorry, let me take this (puts phone to ear) uh huh…alright. (Covers phone, to MICHAEL) I gotta go. (To Phone) Oh thank God! You guys just saved me from the biggest loser…
MICHAEL: I shoulda known it was too good to be true…she's new, and she has more friends than me. (sits down on bench, puts backpack on table. Pulls out sandwich, starts eating) Lucky I always come prepared.
(JOE and MOE cross, JOE whispers to MOE something like "Dude, that is a nice switch you got there." Both stop, glance around hurriedly, then MOE smiles and places knife on top of MICHAEL's backpack. Both exit saying something to the effect of "Did he see us?" "Yeah")
MR. DROVES: Hello Michael, how are you tod-(notices knife on backpack) And what might this be? (picks up knife, presses catch) Showing off a recent purchase, are we?
MICHAEL: What sir?
MR. DROVES: This is suspension status, you know?
MICHAEL: (Looks up at MR. DROVES) What do you mean?
MR. DROVES: (Holds up knife) A four-inch switchblade?
MICHAEL: What! That's not mine, I swear…wait! Joe and Moe just came by! They must have put it in there.
MR. DROVES: So now you're trying to pin it on someone else. I don't think so. Let's go up to my office, shall we? (Pockets knife, FREEZE)
MICHAEL: That's just great. Not only do I have a bruised rib, Mr. Droves finally found an excuse to get me suspended…I suppose there's nothing I can do. NO, dammit, I'll not lay down andtake it again.I'm tired of playing the bitch. (Unfreeze)
MR. DROVES: Well, shall we? (Begins walking out)
MICHAEL: (follows) But it's not mine! (Scene change)
(Droves' office. Fairly bare. Large desk, comfy chair behind it. Plain wooden chairs in front)
MR. DROVES: (sitting at a desk, smiles nastily) Ok, Michael…It really tears me up to do this, but I have no choice but to suspend you. Possession of a weapon actually can result in suggestion for expulsion. I'm letting you off easy.
MICHAEL: Mr. Droves, I swear upon my mother's grave, that is not my blade! It belongs to Joe and Moe. Please don't do this to me! I need this week to get ready for finals.
MR. DROVES: (Smile to frown: .00000001 seconds) I appreciate your heartfelt plea, but I really feel that this suspension is necessary…I heard an invalidated report that you were in a fight earlier today. I really do think you should take some time to cool down.
MICHAEL: A fight?! Those two thugs that you always seem to ignore beat me up and took my money! If that's what you call a "fight", then you've got a skewed perspective on life!
MR. DROVES: (suddenly a little uncomfortable) Since you insist on fighting me in this, I have no choice but meeting with your father. I will be back in a second, I am going to schedule a conference. (stands up and grabs a small schedule. Knocks over a picture and walks out)
MICHAEL: This is just great. Now, not only am I suspended for an offense that I didn't commit, my dad's gonna find out about it. I'm gonna be in for a beating tonight. (sees picture) What's this? (Starts reading picture) Steve Droves, Joseph Gomez, and Maurice Martinez, Football captains 1979. Wait…Joe's last name is Gomez…and Moe's is Martinez…and both are "Juniors". If...hmmm.
(MR. DROVES walks back in, MICHAEL quickly replaces the picture on the desk)
MR. DROVES: So, that's that. As of tomorrow, you are suspended, and your dad is meeting with me next Thursday.
MICHAEL: (Ignores him) So, I guess that's why you always look the other way when Moe and Joe mess with everyone.
MR. DROVES: (frowning) What do you mean?
MICHAEL: It seems like you might know their dad's pretty well.
MR. DROVES: This is completely uncalled for! I show absolutely no favoritism!
MICHAEL: No favoritism? They openly cheat in your class! They flunked two years in grade school, but they're getting a better grade than me in your English class! A class they haven't gotten better than a D in the last 3 years straight, but they hit your class, and they're all taken care of, aren't they? All because you know their dads, and they know it! So they take advantage of it. And you do nothing!
MR. DROVES: This is a completely baseless accusation! I discipline those two no less than others, and you know it! You're just having a bad day, there is no need to vent on me about it. I will now see you to the door, where you will continue on home. I will see your father in this room on Thursday.
MICHAEL: Wait, I'm not done! Sure, maybe I'm having a bad day. But you're not doing anything to help it, you high-and-mighty prick! And I have not broken any school rules today. That knife was not mine, and you know it! You saw Moe and Joe with the same exact knife as they dropped it on my backpack, and you know it! However, you refuse to do anything about it, simply because you and their dads are best buds. And hell, you can run this school unfairly if you want. But I refuse to be kept at home and miss the reviews for the finals just because you are so nearsighted that you can't see past your own damn nose. Or should I say your friendships?
MR. DROVES: (Slams hands down on desk, and stands up) Alright, that is it! I was ready to let you off with the suspension. But this is the final straw. I am expelling you on the spot.
MICHAEL: What?!
MR. DROVES: You really leave me with no choice. If you had been willing to calm down and be rational, this wouldn't have happened. It's not my fault if…
MICHAEL: No, just stop talking. I'm through with this. (Spits on desk) Go to hell. (Exits)
MR. DROVES: That's that. (Wipes off desk, picks up intercom) Mrs. Finley? Please give me the phone number on file for Michael Young. (scene change)
(Michael enters, very messy house living room, couch in view)
MICHAEL: Dad? You in here? (to self) Crap. I bet Droves called him. I'm gonna get belted for this. Whoever first said TGIF was either a moron or high at the time. Dad?
DAD: (Drunkenly slurring voice) Son? That you? I jus' got a call from your principal. He told me you got 'spelled. That true?
MICHAEL: Well, I-I-
DAD: Is it true?! (pause) Answer me!
MICHAEL: Yeah, dad, its true
DAD: (fiddles with belt buckle) You know what this means, son
MICHAEL: Oh god, dad, please don't hit me.
DAD: (pulls off belt) The punishment fits the crime. (whacks MICHAEL, who whimpers) Talking back to a teacher? I raised you different. (hits MICHAEL again) Your mother raised you different! (strikes MICHAEL again) and look what it got you! Expelled! (hits MICHAEL yet again) And I ain't about to move you so you can keep going to school. (Steps back unsteadily) This is what I'll have for a son: A washed-up loser.
MICHAEL: You're not one to call anyone washed up, or a loser! You've been constantly drunk since Mom died, and you've beat me even more often than you're drunk.
DAD: (Slaps MICHAEL hard across the face) I'll not take such lip from my own son. (grabs MICHAEL by the collar) Now you listen up, and you listen well. You're gonna go back in there tomorrow, and you are gonna get back into that school. I will not have a high school dropout for a son. Now go to your room. No meals. (exits)
MICHAEL: Oh god…please help me god…I'm slipping, lord, please…help. (Scene Change)
(Drove's Office)
MICHAEL: (enters) Ok. All I have to do is to apologize for my outburst, and beg Droves to take me back in…that should do it. Yeah, I'm screwed.
MR. DROVES: Well, what have we here? I thought you were expelled.
MICHAEL: Mr. Droves, please. I'm extremely sorry for my behavior yesterday, and I'll make it up to you in any way possible. I need to get back into this school.
MR. DROVES: I'm sorry, Michael, but that's just not possible. You fairly well destroyed any chance of that yesterday.
MICHAEL: Please! If I don't get in, my dad will kill me! And don't think I'm exaggerating. He's already beaten me for getting expelled.
MR. DROVES: Surely you exaggerate.
MICHAEL: No, I don't. Getting back into this school is crucial to my life.
MR. DROVES: Michael, I have tried my best to be patient with you. However, you have gone beyond all of my patience and charity. Yesterday, I expelled you from this school. That was to be the end of this unfortunate business. However, you seem determined to not let this problem die. So, I have no choice but to effectively re-expel you. It will have the same effect, but none of the paperwork. Here it is: get the hell out of here.
MICHAEL: I can't do that, sir! My father is waiting at home with his .45 for me to come home early.
MR. DROVES: I don't give a damn about what your father is doing! I just care about you getting out of my office and out of my school!
MICHAEL: Alright, fine! I will walk out of this door, and go home. But if there is an article in the paper tomorrow about the killing of a local teen, and you happen to read it, and it happens that the teen's name is Michael Young, it'll be on your conscience. You will know that you could have prevented it. I'll see you at the funeral home, Mr. Droves. (scene change)
(Living room scene, MICHAEL enters, DAD is on couch)
DAD: Well, here's the big scholar, coming home from the university. How was school?
MICHAEL: (doesn't make eye contact) It was alright, I guess.
DAD: How was your math today?
MICHAEL: Um…well…
DAD: You did go to school, didn't you?
MICHAEL: No. I mean, Yeah! Well…sorta?
DAD: (a little angry) What do you mean "Sorta"?
MICHAEL: Please dad, it's not my fault! Droves hates me! I did all I could to get back in, but he wouldn't let me! Honest!
DAD: So you didn't get back in. (Grabs pistol off of couch beside him, slides in magazine and cocks slide) Son, you did hear me say that I wouldn't have a dropout for a son.
MICHAEL: No, dad, please. You're drunk! You're not thinking clearly! Just please put the gun down. Please!
DAD: This is the only way I'll have some pride left. (Wavers for a moment, then pulls the trigger)
MICHAEL: (screams, and claps a hand to his ear)
DAD: Oh my God! Son, what have I done? (runs over) Oh, ok. I only grazed you. You'll be alright. Lucky I'm drunk, otherwise I woulda nailed you.
MICHAEL: (gasping) Oh shit it burns…oh…I'm sorry, Dad, I'm sorry.
DAD: For what…(angry) oh yeah, that's right, you still didn't get back in did you? All right, you little twerp
MICHAEL: Please dad, don't kill me! Please!
DAD: No, I won't. (Raises pistol and pistol-whips MICHAEL on the back of the head. MICHAEL jerks and goes limp. DAD smiles, and raises bottle to lips)
(Same location and positions as previous scene, time passage implied. MICHAEL's ear is bandaged)
MICHAEL: What the…Ohh, my head…Dad? Where are you? Dad? (Looks up, sees dad with pistol and bottle at side) Whew. What happened? Wait. I remember…Dad shot my…(Raises hand to brush ear, winces, and lowers hand) Ah…but why? Wait…(angry voice) Droves. He's the one that started this all…I should do something about that. (normal-ish voice) But what will I do? What can I do? Nothing! (Evil again)That's not true. (normal) What does that mean? (evil) There's a gun two feet away from here. I can make them all pay. (normal) Who? (evil) Them all. Droves, Joe and Moe, and everyone else that has crapped on me throughout my high school career. (reaches for gun, normal) No, I can't do that! (Hand halts, evil) Yes you can! (hand moves closer, normal) No! (Stops, evil) Yes! (moves, normal, building volume) NO! (stops, evil, yelling) YES! (grabs gun, normal, defeated) yes…it's right. (scene change)
(Drove's Office)
MICHAEL: Hello Mr. Droves. How are you today?
MR. DROVES: Michael? I see you're alive today. And of course, you've decided to come continue to make my life a waking nightmare. What happened to your ear?
MICHAEL: My dad just about shot it off. And it's your fault.
MR. DROVES: Now, again with the accusations. And again you're here, after expulsion, and a severe warning. I'm sorry, but this is my last resort. I am going to call the police station myself, to get a restraining order put on you. If you violate it, it will be a ticket to Juvie. Or Jail. You're eighteen, right?
MICHAEL: You can't get an order put through that quickly. It's impossible.
MR. DROVES: I have connections in this town. You just watch me. (reaches down to grab telephone book out of desk drawer, MICHAEL pulls gun out of backpack and points it at MR. DROVES face. MR. DROVES looks up) What the hell?
MICHAEL: I'm sorry about this, Mr. Droves. I tried my best to resist the urge, and to get out of this situation, but you leave me with no possible alternative. All I ever wanted was to get my diploma and get the hell out of this nowhere, dead-end town. But you denied me that option, simply because I accused you of being what you are. A biased, unfair, insecure man who lords authority over those students that he dislikes, simply to feel better about himself.
MR. DROVES: (visibly afraid) Is that what you want me to say? Is that what your after? Fine I'll admit it.
MICHAEL: No, that's not what I'm after. That may have worked two days ago. But now, its too late. No, I'm through with everything.
MR. DROVES: Please! Is there anything at all I can do, I'll do it!
MICHAEL: (Strange smile) This is sounding very familiar…
MR. DROVES: Please!
MICHAEL: There is one thing you could do that would possibly save your life.
MR. DROVES: Name it, I'll do it!
MICHAEL: Grovel. Beg. Hands and knees. Beg like your life depends on it, which it does. Humiliate yourself
MR. DROVES: I will not do such a thing.
MICHAEL: Then I guess this is goodbye. See you in hell. (raises gun)
MR. DROVES: No, Wai-(MICHAEL pulls trigger, MR. DROVES' head jerks back, and the chair spins, spilling MR. DROVES onto the ground)
MICHAEL: Oh Shit! I knew this was a bad idea! (Runs around desk, looks down at MR. DROVES' carcass) Oh shit. (evil) Wait, what am I so uptight about? I did it. I'm free! (normal) No I'm not. Oh god, I killed a man. (sinks to knees) I killed him. (evil) I killed him! (normal) If I have to live as a murderer…(evil) So be it! (normal) I'd rather not live at all. (evil, resigned) So be it. Doesn't really matter to me, anyway. (SECRETARY runs in, having heard the shot. She takes in the carnage, and is in shock. Her mouth makes silent "O"s, like that of a goldfish. MICHAEL smiles strangely, and raises gun to his mouth, placing the barrel within it) Heh. (pulls trigger. SCENE!)