Ben Johns - detail from
Lady Di Bingo

Cast:
August. A man.
March. A woman.
Monster. A monster.

Place: Greenlake. Seattle, WA
Set: A bench.

August sits on a bench. He is dressed casually but business-like. His cell phone is
          not working. Enter, March.

March: Did you see it, mister? Has it come back around yet? It lives in the lake,
          feeding on electromagnetic energy and people obsessed with negative
          energy sources. It doesn’t want me. I don’t even own a telephone. I
          tried to warn everyone. The space needle is nothing more than a
          lightning rod begging for attention. I pushed alternative energy plans like
          wind and water. Of course I wasn’t successful because power companies
          were too worried about their profits, never mind tech companies maxed
          out on their idea of a never-ending power supply—greed! I imagine
          the monster started out as a normal person like me—or a King Salmon
          maybe—until it got zapped over and over again by a steady stream
          of fiber-optics. The cell phones did us in. They all but destroyed our
          planet’s bio-rhythm, never mind causing violent tempers in teenagers
          and impaired sexual acts in white middle-aged men. And it’s a known
          fact that magnetic shock is what knocked off the dinosaurs. Or maybe a
          monster like this one just showed up and swallowed them whole. Maybe
          a monster like this one—

August: WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!! DID I ASK YOU TO STOP
          HERE? DID I ASK YOU TO OPEN YOUR MOUTH? I AM SITTING HERE
          MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, TAKING A REST ON MY WAY TO THE
          GAS STATION BECAUSE MY TIRE EXPLODED AND THERE WAS NO
          SPARE TIRE IN THAT FORTY THOUSAND-DOLLAR-PIECE-OF-CRAP
          SO NOW I WILL NOT BE ATTENDING THE MEETING OF MY LIFE,
          AND THAT PROMOTION WILL GO TO THE NEXT GUY IN LINE, AND
          YOU ARE GOING ON ABOUT ELECTRICITY ZAPPING SALMON AND
          MONSTERS IN LAKES!

March: Which gas station?

August: What!

March: Which gas station are you referring to?

August: The one on 85th and Aurora.

March: There is no gas station on 85th and Aurora.

August: Yes, there is. There is too a gas station on 85th and Aurora. I worked my
          way through school pumping gas for Pete, the owner of the gas station
          on Aurora, and I love Pete, love the guy more than I’ve loved anyone in
          my life so don’t be telling me there is no gas station on Aurora because I
          know for a fact there is one!

March: Pete is dead.

August: Excuse me! Excuse me! Pete is not dead! I just saw Pete. Saw him less
          than a week ago and he’s still pumping gas, still checking for oil under
          the hood!

March: Pete was eaten by the monster. Eaten alive by the monster in the lake,
          and then after he ate Pete, he swallowed the gas station too.

August: Do me a favor, okay? Go sit on another bench.

March: Where do you work?

August: None of your business.

March: Nice clothes. They make a statement. Expensive but casual. Trendy but
          neat. Conservative but—

August: Microsoft.

March: Uh oh.

August: Uh oh, what?

March: Nothing.

August: Don’t say “nothing” when you mean something. I hate that.

March: I don’t want to upset you.

August: You think I’m not already upset? My car is stranded, my cell phone isn’t
          working, and I’m facing a major setback in my six-month plan to make
          manager. Never mind the fact I am having a conversation beside some
          crackpot who was obviously let out of the hospital too soon.

March: I wouldn’t worry about your career.

August: You don’t have to worry about it. I am the one getting passed over.

March: Microsoft is gone.

August: Microsoft is not gone.

March: The monster ate it.

August: Let me give you a tip despite your mental impairment. For future
          reference? Nothing on this planet could digest that conglomerate.

                                                                      (March offers August sandwich.)

March: Want half a ham and cheese?

August: No.

March: Could be your last chance to eat solid food.

August: I’m not hungry.

March: Could be the last ham and cheese in the world.

August: I don’t want a half a ham and cheese. No, let me rephrase that. I do not
          want to touch food that you have touched. I don’t want to hold dead
          ham that you once held.

March: You should eat something.

August: I’ll eat when I get home.

March: Where is that?

August: Why?

March: . . . Just wondering.

August: You gonna tell me the monster ate Capitol Hill?

March: Oops.

August: You want to sit here? Do you? You want to continue to share this bench
          with me?

March: Yes.

August: Then not another word about monsters!

March: Some people just don’t want to face facts.

August: Lady?

March: Fine. (beat) But I’m not a lady. I’m a “March.” My name. It’s March.

August: Huh.

March: What?

August: . . . Nothing.

March: I hate that too. When someone says “nothing,” and they really mean—

August: It’s a coincidence!

March: What is?

August: Your name. March. Because mine, it’s August.

March: No way!

August: Way.

March: That is a coincidence! Think of the odds of that happening! Both of us
          named after months of the year!

August: It doesn’t make us soul mates.

March: (growing weepy) Of course it does. That’s exactly what it makes us. We
          compliment one another like ham and cheese, the day after tomorrow,
          two seasons passing in the night. Why, that’s reason enough to get
          married in some countries.

August: What are you crying for?

March: I just wish we could have met sooner, August. When a coincidence could
          have meant something. When there was still a future for a coincidence
          like this one.

August: You won’t let that nightmare go.

March: No, August. I can’t.

August: Does it have mayonnaise? The ham and cheese. Because if there is one
          thing I won’t tolerate, it’s mayonnaise on my bread.

March: I only use mustard on my ham and cheese.

August: If there is even a hint of mayonnaise, I’m giving it back.

                                                    (March gives half. They chew simultaneously.)

March: I feel just rotten about Pete.

August: I don’t want to talk about Pete.

March: Okay, August. We won’t talk about Pete. Poor, poor. . . I haven’t told
          you everything.

August: You promised.

March: No. This has nothing to do with the (whispering) monster. It’s something
          else entirely.

August: What?

March: We met before. Yes. You stood out from the other gas attendants,
          August. You never looked the other way when I rode in. Just because
          I was on a bicycle. You always refilled my water bottle, and wiped my
          reflector clean of bugs. Even how you pumped my tires full of air was
          different from how anyone else did it. Truth is, I have never been with a
          man, August. Just the dream of being with you spoiled me from having
          anyone else. So, you can imagine my surprise running into you now. You
          know what I want to do, August? You know what I want to do more than
          anything?

August: . . . What? (March kisses August.) That was awful.

March: Was it?

August: It was wet for one thing. It was cold and wet, March. And your lips tasted
          like damp leaves. That’s not how you kiss someone.

March: That’s because I never kissed anyone before. I haven’t a clue how to—
          (August really lays one on her.) Wow! That was hot, August. That was
          steamy and thick like scum on a humid swamp.

August: That’s how you kiss someone.

March: Thanks for showing me. Now I know, and thank you very much.

August: I remember you.

March: You do, August?

August: The one on the bike. One speed. Strong legs.

March: That was me! That was me!

August: That’s what I said.

March: I love you, August! I don’t want you to leave this world without knowing
          how I feel. I LOVE YOU AUGUST!

August: I’ll say one thing. You’re brave.

March: I’m not brave.

August: Yes, you are. You may be cracked, but you don’t lack courage.

March: If I was really brave, I’d go in your place. I’d make the (whispering)
          monster take me instead of you. I’d insist he eat me over you even
          though he obviously finds me repulsive and distasteful. A real kiss does
          that, August. I understand it now. A real kiss empowers you to make
          sacrifices for the one you love.

August: Well, for what it’s worth, I appreciate that. I appreciate you throwing
          yourself into the arms of any monster, but I wouldn’t let you die for me.

March: You wouldn’t, August?

August: Hell no.

March: I guess that means you love me too. Just a little bit.

August: Yeah, well maybe I’ll call you sometime.

March: I don’t have a telephone.

August: You have an address, don’t you? I assume you live somewhere

                                              (March is already looking off to what approaches!)

March: Oh dear, August.

August: You tell me where you live, and maybe I’ll drop by.

March: Oh dear, dear August!

August: I’ll take you out for a real meal.

                                                                                          (Monster enters.)

August: Hot food.

March: It was a wonderful kiss, August! The best in my whole life and I won’t
          soon forget it.

August: (spotting monster) Whoa.

March: It’s the (whispering) monster, and he’s come for you.

August: Oh boy.

March: Not a thing in the world you can do now.

August: Oh boy.

March: I guess this is good bye.

August: OH BOY!

March: It won’t hurt. He’ll be quick. You make it quick, you wicked, wicked
          monster of the lake!

     (Monster gives a “thumbs up.” August, resigned to his fate, is led off by monster.
                  March sighs, observes August’s half-eaten sandwich, shrugs, picks it up
                                                                     and chews. A belch is heard, off.)

Blackout.