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 In This Issue:
Season Three: Winter 2006
SpeechGeek Gear

Prose Interpretation
Trevor and Travis
by Odell Workman.........................................................04

Poetry Interpretation
Hiding Behind the Humor
by Courtney Wright, Christopher Ellis and Jonnie Ray Delta.......09

Duo Interpretation (Male/Male)

God Walks the Dark Hills
by Trevor Anders............................................................12 SpeechGeek is not only your best
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The Top of Number Ten SpeechGeek gear. With more
by Wilma Suiter................................................................15
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Shotgun Blast to the Third Eye
by Rubin Bernstein..........................................................18

Trevor and Travis
by Odell Workman
Standing on the fence, looking out across the middle of nowhere, things finally
came into perspective—at least that’s what Trevor thought. Perspective was what
Trevor prided himself on the most. He always knew how to get to the bottom of
things…how to put even the most confusing situation into words. He held his arms
outward, trying to maintain his balance. Perspective was what he was looking for in the
woods. The back of the family property, rolling hills covered in soybeans, ponds and
trees, provided the setting for this mental retreat. Just the thing you’d expect for a two
hundred acre farm in Kentucky. On the edge of the property was a fence—the farthest
place you could be and still remain on the farm. The farthest you could get away from
home and still be there. Trevor was looking for perspective in those woods and dying to
be alone.
Perhaps the wrong choice of words.
END TEASER
Trevor grunted as he landed somewhat precariously on the fourth post. For some
reason, he remembered this—jumping from post to post—being a lot easier. That was
thirteen years ago. Lots of things change in thirteen years.He moved precariously from
one post to the next. False cues aside, he was getting the hang of the process again. He
certainly didn’t remember each landing producing some sort of exasperated sound
effect and was almost certain the old attempts took less than twenty seconds to reach
the end. He tried to convince himself that the reason he was having difficulty was that
he lacked focus. As a kid the goal was to get across as quickly as possible. What was
different he thought.
He wasn’t laughing.
Trevor made one promise to himself that Sunday morning. No matter what
happened over the next few days—no matter how bad he felt—he wouldn’t cry. Trevor
had done that plenty of times as a kid. Now that he was twenty-three years old crying
was no longer an option. Leaning against the faux-marble kitchen counter, he made
that promise. The morning sun slowly crept beyond the horizon. The row of trees that
marked the back of the farm had turned navy against the warm pink sky. It was shaping
up to be a beautiful day—not even a cloud in the sky, but he wouldn’t notice it.
Trevor’s mother Faye placed an arm on his shoulder. He knew that it was hers
because of the scent. His definition of Mom was based on jasmine and orange blossoms.
The human mind has a way of piecing together a picture of someone even when you
can’t see them.
“I just can’t believe she’s gone,” his mother whispered. Her quiet sobs broke the
string of words into an awkward phrase. “I knew it was coming, but I just can’t believe
she’s gone.”
Trevor had made a promise not to cry. He felt something wet on his shirt. They
weren’t his tears. They belonged to his mom. For the first time he looked away from the
early autumn sunrise and into his mother’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”
“You know, I think she held on until you got home. She just wanted to see you
one more time.” She wouldn’t look at him as she said this. You cannot cry. This is no
time to break promises, he thought. He had already promised to come home more
often, but school had gotten in the way of that. Now, his grandmother was gone. Or she
had died. Or he could have picked any other sanitized version of the truth. What the
truth really was, though, is that Trevor had missed the most important month in the life of
his family.
“Will you go back in there with me?” Faye asked. “I just don’t think that I can go
4 5
in there alone.”
Trevor paused. The last thing he wanted to do was go back into the room
where the corpse was—even if it was a corpse he loves—well loved—more than just
about anyone in the world. The request had unnerved him. Even his mother could tell
that. Trevor placed another hand on the counter to steady himself.
“I know it’s not really her in there,” Faye sighed. “It’s just a shell. I know she’s in
heaven now. She’s in heaven now.” Trevor wasn’t sure if his mother was convinced
even of her own words. It was unlike her to repeat herself. That also unnerved Trevor.
Laughing was the point of the game, after all. You had to jump down the line of
fence posts to the oak tree. As you moved down the line, the cousins would toss rocks,
clods of dirt, corn cobs—whatever happened to be lying around—trying to knock you off.
Trevor’s twin brother Travis was always the best at this. Inevitably, Trevor would fall and
Travis would die laughing. Again, not the best choice of words.
While focused on days gone by Trevor’s sneaker moved two inches too far to
the left and that would be end of the fence hopping for the day.
The screen door of the utility room opened. Coming around the corner was
Travis wearing the Carhart jacket that their grandmother had gotten him for his—their—
birthday a month ago. She had joked then that it was going to be a cold winter, the
man with the goose that predicted the weather on TV said so. She said he’d have to
take her four wheeler riding when the first snow came on Christmas. The goose said it was
going to be a big snow on Christmas Eve. At least a foot, maybe even two.
On Christmas Eve—she was certain—she would be better by then. Trevor
zoned out again. He didn’t even realize his mother was now wrapped around Travis’
frame. Travis was never one for words, but he didn’t have to speak that morning. Trevor
could see a small stream of tears going down his twin brother’s face. Still, he didn’t cry.
“It’s okay, baby,” she says. And with that they exited toward the bedroom.
Now alone, Trevor reached into the cabinet to procure a plastic mug for
coffee—a crayon blue trinket he had gotten from Chuck-E-Cheese’s when he was nine.
He went ahead and took down the red one as well. Always blue for Trevor. Always red
for Travis. They were always different. Trevor poured the coffee into the small cups and
added the sugar and milk. The coffee in the mugs looked darker than he remembered.
As kids the mugs were filled with more milk and sugar than coffee. It was their
grandmother’s way of making them feel more grown-up.
Trevor didn’t need an illusion to feel old today. He just needed to be alive.
Trevor heard a bawling in the other room. Dropping the spoon on the floor he
took three steps in the direction of the bedroom before he even knew it. Shit, he
thought. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to leave the house. Sitting on the well shed, Trevor
tried to catch his breath. It hadn’t looked that cool outside, but Trevor felt a sharp chill
through the cotton undershirt and track pants he was wearing. He wrapped his arms
around his shoulders to keep warm. Rocking back and forth, Trevor mumbled to himself.
“You wanna explain to me why this is going on?” he questioned. There wasn’t
anyone around. Maybe God, to whom the question was phrased, but Trevor didn’t feel
like debating the finer points of Christian theology that morning. He didn’t expect an
answer. He had learned not to expect answers from above. And so Trevor rocked back
and forth with the rhythms of the Kentucky morning.
“Where did you go?” Travis’ words snapped Trevor from his catatonic state.
“I needed fresh air,” Trevor quickly responded. He thought a moment before he
opened his mouth again. “I’m sorry, I just freaked out.”
“It’s understandable.”
If there was one thing that Trevor found annoying about his twin brother, it was
that Travis was his big brother. It was hard to place that kind of qualification on things,
but people always wanted to know who came out first. So Travis was the big brother by
thirty seconds. It had nothing to do with conception or even perception. It was simply a
 matter of jockeying for position in the womb. Those thirty seconds always gave
Travis a certain authority over his younger sibling and it annoyed the hell out of Trevor.
He didn’t look at Travis.
“Don’t patronize me,” Trevor responded.
“Well then don’t fall apart on me,” Travis returned.
“No promises, I stopped making those long ago.”
“Bullshit.”
“Screw you.” Trevor realized this wasn’t the right time to pick a family fight or
deal with sibling rivalry. “Sorry. I made you a cup of coffee. It’s on the…”
“I got it right here,” Travis didn’t even give him time to finish his sentence. “Yours
too, though you did put too much sugar in it.”
Trevor finally turned around. Taking the cup of coffee from his brother’s hands
he could see the tearstain on his camouflage t-shirt. Any other Sunday morning and he
probably would have been in the woods looking to shoot at some small woodland
creature.
“She’s really gone,” Trevor said after taking a long drink from the mug.
“Better sooner than later,” Travis said. “I mean, she could’ve gone on like that
for months. It would have only gotten worse. She wasn’t gonna get any better.”
“I guess you’re right,” that was all Trevor could muster.
“The doctor said she probably wouldn’t see the end of the month,” Travis
noted. Trevor looked down at his watch. Inside a small square were the numbers 09/30.
“Shows what he knew,” Trevor said. His brother let out a small chuckle. Trevor
grew silent again. “Mom didn’t tell me that.”
“She didn’t want to make it any harder on you. She knew you were coming
home this weekend. She was gonna tell you then.”
Another silence fell on Travis and Trevor before the younger brother spoke again.
“You’re right.”
“About what?”
“I did put too much sugar in this coffee.”
“Well, no one’s perfect—not even you.”
Travis was right. He always had a way of being right at the time Trevor needed
him not to. Travis placed him arm around Trevor’s shoulder. They were never the type to
hug, but it seemed appropriate here. Their grandmother would have liked to have seen
them like this
Hitting the ground, Trevor swore. The fall hurt that badly. When he was a kid,
he would have sprung back up in an instant
hispride injured far more so than his body. And so Trevor sat there on the ground for what
seemed like forever—or at least five
minutes. The late summer sun slowly fading toward the west. Not a cloud in the sky, but
he ground is still a bit wet from the
[revious night’s rain. There’s probably a tear on his Abercrombie t-shirt—one that wasn’t
purposefully put there in the first place.
That would have pissed him off three days ago. But today, when he finally has things in
perspective, well, he couldn’t give a shit.
Trevor laughed. He laughed for the first time in three days. Three days he’d rather forget.
Three days he never thought would
come.
Eva Mae Sullivan, age 72, sat in the cornflower blue recliner watching the
evening news. She sat motionless, except for the rocking of the chair. Trevor rested on his
knees next to her. With her hand placed on top of his, she surveyed his face.
“You’ve lost weight,” she said. Trevor wanted to respond that she, too, had lost
weight, but that didn’t seem appropriate. He could hear the evening news commen-
tary coming from the television. It was an antique model, one might say, with a knob
that changed the channel and no remote to be found. It was new enough to weigh in
on the state of the world. Trevor couldn’t help but notice her glance shift from his face to
the TV.
6 7
The commentator remarked on the recent tragedy of September 11. It had
unnerved everyone in the family, even though they had a brewing tragedy on the
horizon. Trevor could see the reflections of the past month on the screen, a parade of
national regret.
“Makes you think it’s the end of the world,” she said. Her face turned grave.
“You don’t worry about that, Nanny,” Trevor replied.
“I’m just worried for you and your brother. Last thing I need to see is the two of
you go off to fight in a war. Maybe Jesus’ll come back and just end the whole thing.”
“Wouldn’t be a bad way to put a band-aid on the whole thing, huh?”
“We’d all be in heaven,” she brightened. Her eyes always brightened at the
talk of heaven, not just since she’d been sick. Trevor could remember the Sunday
mornings in the country church. She sang the old-timey hymns with an Old Testament
fervency. As a kid, Trevor couldn’t imagine what heaven was like. He just knew if Nanny
was gonna be there some day, then he would too. She finished, “We’d never have to
worry about this crazy, messed up world ever again.”
“Sounds good, Nanny. Sounds really good.”
It didn’t take Jesus coming back to send her heaven bound. He called her
home the next morning. Trevor, on the other hand, was only left to contemplate the
world, her and what the hell all the other tomorrows would feel like.
God knows. Only God knows, he thought.
Travis stood up from the concrete steps of the back porch. “Well, I’m gonna
check on Mom and see if she needs me to make any phone calls. You gonna be okay?”
“More or less,” Trevor said. “You want me to give you a hand?”
“Nah, just take your time.”
Trevor walked around the lot behind the house. He felt oddly stiff that morning.
Trevor had slept on the living room floor of his grandmother’s house. His mother slept on
the floor in Nanny’s room, in case she needed her. Twisting around to stretch his muscles,
Trevor looked toward the sky. Still, not a cloud, but Trevor didn’t notice. It was Sunday
morning and the rest of the world would be waking up to attend church.
The congregation would be informed that Eva Mae Sullivan had passed at 5:22
a.m. on Sunday, September 30 at her residence. They would be told that funeral
services were incomplete at that time.
Trevor began to hum a hymn to himself:
On that bright and cloudless morning
When the dead in Christ shall rise.
And the glory of his resurrection share,
The saints of Earth shall gather
To their home beyond the sky
When the roll is called up yonder
I’ll be there.
If there would have been a way to have the church sing that song, Trevor
would have made the request, but there were more important things to tend to.
Instead, he sang the chorus a few time more to himself and felt warm knowing his
grandmother would have thought it the sweetest melody in all Christianity.
Feeling brave enough to face the truth, he walked back inside the house.
Finding his brother leaning against the dining room wall trying to negotiate the rotary
phone, he went searching for his mother.
“The coroner’ll be here in a few minutes,” she stammered. “If you want to make
a last goodbye, you need to do it now.”
For the first time all morning, Trevor’s eyes met hers. “I already did.”
Trevor sat up, brushed the dirt from his jeans, collected himself and climbed on the fence
once more. He continued laughing a breathless laugh at the top of his lungs.
The louder he laughed, the harder he ran. Blocking out the setting sun, blocking
out the pain, blocking out everything but the oak tree at the end of the fence
row. He just needed to get there. He just needed to prove to himself that he

Hiding Behind the Humor

could still handle it. Every step brings him closer. He laughed so hard, he cried.

by Courtney Wright, Christopher Ellis and Jonnie Ray Delta

The Next Title Has Been Edited Because of the F Word
By Courtney Wright

Someone will get offended

Because some people are sensitive
Someone will complain
Because those people are BITCHES
High and mighty, insulted and snubbed,
FUCK ‘EM IF THEY CAN’T TAKE A JOKE

And they’ll smile

And nod
And circle around
And laugh
And gather together
But you’re the asshole who’s never serious
Unless you’re seriously being an asshole
So fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.

I’ll Make You Laugh Your Heart Out

By Courtney Wright

Why does Dale Earnhart have the biggest halo in heaven?

It’s not a halo. it’s a steering wheel.
I’ve told that joke 300 times probably –
And I live in NASCAR country-
So it’s like telling a holocaust joke in Florida.
My brother’s car just got blindsided by a beat up Chevy with
“Remember Number 3” across the back window –
And as I think of that joke
My face convulses with disgust.

By the third hour in the hospital

There’s no real news except that matt’s in intensive care and we can’t see him yet
Oh, that and my mom’s begun staring at the same 4 puzzle pieces
Pretending not to cry while she acts like putting them together

The fifth hour brings relatives

Lots of smiling, supportive, relatives
And they’re in a circle telling stories about Matt
So, I steel the show and I tell this story about Matt in the 7th grade
Getting drunk off his ass on triple sec
Okay, that’s a margarita mixer

So, we show up at his friends house around 3 in the morning and there he his lying in
the middle of the kitchen covered in vomit. And the first thing he says is: “You think
I’VE been drinking? I’VE been drinking?

And everyone begins laughing and smiling and nodding

As if they’d forgotten where they were
And why they were here
But then my mom chimes in…

8 9
“I didn’t even know there was alcohol in that stuff! He stole it from us, we’d had it for like They laughed.
5 years, now who in the world drinks Orange margaritas?” When I tried to get a real job
Where I didn’t have to wear shoes
And it was the first time she’d smiled all night. With motherfucking bells on them
My younger brother makes me feel cool to hang out with. I don’t know if he really knows They laughed
that. He’s four years younger and forty times cooler. He’s the type of person people really Since I’m apparently a fucking laugh riot,
like, he’s considerate and not condescending, charming and not fake, he can be funny Being a jester seemed the appropriate career choice.
as hell, but he rarely begs for it. I feel like I should be in his fan club, I love that kid so much. So, when people wanted to laugh at me,
It’s hour 7, 11 pm I get back from the bathroom and there’s a crowd outside of his room. I I made them laugh at me.
peer over relatives telling him how lucky he is. He looks annoyed, aggravated, ex- Tricked them into thinking that I was funny when I told jokes
hausted. His jaw is broken, he can’t speak. A brace keeps him staring at the ceiling and Not when I don’t
he’s holding back tears with dignity. I made jokes ‘cause that’s all I could do
I enter his peripheral vision. Now I can’t speak. His eyebrows raise his lip quivers and tears Now it’s all I can do
stream down his cheeks. The room grows silently awkward. I feel like everyone wants me Now my life’s on the line
to tell a joke. How can I be funny when I hurt this much? But I’ve been doing it all my life Now I’m performing for the worst crowd in the kingdom
so I say:
You look like shit man. You been hitting up that triple sec again? Your Eyes Roll More Than SUVs
The room lets out a sigh of relief and I feel like until now Matt’s been pinned underneath By Jonnie Ray Delta
that dash
He tries to smile… This is a poem for that time you told me you loved me…
And he looks ridiculous trying. So I farted.
This is a poem for all those times I’ve been too hurt and afraid of being branded your
The Jester’s Gesture sensitve guy
By Christopher Ellis Because nothing is worse than driving you home in complete silence knowing that the
next time you ask what is wrong
The King has called me in to make him laugh My only defense is turning up the volume so you don’t hear me cry my eyes out to “I like it
So, naturally, I’m a wreck. when you call me big papa.”
I’m a motherfucking carriage wreck. And when the song is over and you ask again, all I can say is
I forgot to check myself before I wrecked myself. “I don’t know, sometimes I really fuckin’ miss biggie”
Most people don’t lose their head I’m going to write you a poem as moving as a rich white family with black neighbors.
Over a joke or two Because for you I have love like no points in tennis
But if my joke’s no good You make me hole like Courtney Love, heroin, and guitars
I’ll lose my motherfuckin’ head When I say I miss you like an abbreviation for missisippi university
You follow? All that means is I wish you would call me on the phone and say
That shit’ll get chopped the fuck off Baby just flirt with me
Maybe I should use that in my routine It means this goofy ass mask is strapped so tight I can feel it’s hurting me
That’s not bad These feelings are begging to be bursting free
Do you want to hear my main joke? I know none of this façade is working
Me too! Please
I’m fucked. Allow me to open my heart and bleed

Lord I hate this job.

I
Hate
This
Job!
I only became a jester because people said
I was funny,
Well, they didn’t really say it
But they laughed at me.
When my brothers said I was adopted
Because I was a foot taller
Than the rest of the family…
They laughed.
When my parents reassured me that
I was not adopted
Because they would never adopt
A freak show…

10 11
 God loves us. (sings) “God walks the dark hills, just to guide my

God Walks the Dark Hills

footsteps…”
CURTIS. Here I am about to keel over and die of a massive heart attack and
you’re able to sing?
by Trevor Anders BILLY. C’mon, CURTIS. “He walks everywhere, by night and by day…”
CURTIS. Haven’t you heard my imitation of a tenor in chapel?
BILLY. (sings) GOD WALKS THE DARK HILLS BILLY. What do you think? “He walks in silence…” (continues)
THE WAYS AND THE BYWAYS CURTIS. (joins in) “On down the highway…”
HE WALKS ON THE BILLOWS OF LIFE’S TROUBLED SEAS BILLY. “God walks the dark hills…” (grabs head and groans) Ahh…
HE WALKS IN THE COLD, DARK NIGHT CURTIS. Are you all right?
THE SHADOWS OF MIDNIGHT, BILLY. I’ll be okay. It’s just another one of those sudden headaches. It’ll go
GOD WALKS THE DARK HILLS away in a few minutes, but let’s get started back down the mountain.
JUST TO SHOW ME THE WAY…
CURTIS. (begins on next to last line) I remember the first time I met BILLY. We CURTIS. Billy hadn’t mentioned the recurring headaches that hit him out of
were both in our final year of seminary. To be honest, I was still trying to nowhere. He said it was nothing to be worried about. It was just the
figure out why God had sent me here. Was I actually meant to spread stress of midterms finally catching up to him…that’s all. But I had my
the gospel? But Billy, on the other hand, knew he was called to serve doubts, so I finally convinced him to go to the doctor—just to be safe.
God with the melodies of his voice. I mean, the boy sang like an angel.
I knew God had blessed him. But what I didn’t know at the time, was BILLY. (entering the room) Hey, CURTIS. You mind if I come in?
that God would bless me through him. CURTIS. Yeah, sure. By the way, Brother James called and wanted to know if
you’d be able to sing for Sunday morning’s service. You know I was
END TEASER thinking you might sing “I’ll Fly Away.”
BILLY. (dead pan) Curtis, we need to talk.
BILLY. Hey, Curtis! Some of the guys are going up to the Ozarks near the Miller CURTIS. In a minute. Or maybe “Standin’ on the Solid Rock.” That’s always
Base this weekend to camp out. You wanna go? been one my favorites.
CURTIS. I don’t know, Bill. (sarcastically) Hmm…let me see. I can spend all BILLY. Please listen to me…
weekend in the dorm studying for that midterm we both have coming CURTIS. No, I got it: “Amazing Grace.” Nothing moves a crowd more than that.
up, or I can spend a Saturday lost in the woods fighting insects for my BILLY. CURT! (shouting abruptly) The doctor said I have cancer.
very life and limbs. Wow. That’s a toughie. CURTIS. What?
BILLY. I assume it’s an easy choice, isn’t it? BILLY. It’s a tumor…malignant…in my brain. From the CT scans and MRIs the
CURTIS. I figure you’re not taking no for an answer? doctors say there’s little they can do.
BILLY. I figure you’re right. The bus leaves at 4 a.m. CURTIS. No! No one dies from cancer these days. There’s gotta be a treatment.
CURTIS. Well, Moses couldn’t ignore the Red Sea parting, so I guess I’m not Some kind of surgery. With all of the technology, there has got to be
going to be able to ignore you. (throws hands up and sighs) You win. something they can do.
BILLY. Great! Don’t forget some repellant…it might, uh, come in hand. BILLY. Not this time. It’s just a matter of time.
(leaving) CURTIS. How…how long?
CURTIS. (just realizing) Four in the morning? Gee, I can’t wait. BILLY. Three, maybe four months.
CURTIS. Is there anything I can…I can do?
CURTIS. If there was one thing that Billy loved as much as God, it was those BILLY. First, tell Brother James I’ll sing “Trust and Obey” and
mountains. He’d talk over and over about how beautiful they were second…well…would you pray.
and how much majesty was in God’s creation. He was baffled and in
awe that something, someone capable of creating such awesome CURTIS. He asked me to…to pray. I did, but I admit my heart wasn’t in it. Think
beauty—a being so powerful—had taken His hand and created him about it, the God I had dedicated my life to was ripping away my best
too… friend. It wasn’t a matter of faith, it was a matter of fair. The next two
months weren’t easy. Each day that passed, he was left with a little
BILLY. Isn’t it breathtaking? I feel as though I could just reach my hands out less memory and little less of himself. I watched as the man who was
and touch God from this place. bursting with life, so full of spirit, so full of love dwindled away to almost
CURTIS. (catching his breath) Yeah, 100% scenic…needs to be on a postcard. an empty vessel in a hospital bed.
(takes in a deep breath) What do you say we sit down for a moment
and “take in this beauty”? CURTIS. How you holding up?
BILLY. Fine. (looks around) Do you ever wonder how God created all this? BILLY. I’m having one of my good days today. It’s just hard to keep focused.
How in just a moment of time, there was nothing and then God (joking) You should try the Jello, it’s extra runny.
brought it all into creation? CURTIS. Seriously, man. I mean how are you really holding up?
CURTIS. Right now, I’d like to see God create an elevator to get me to the top BILLY. What do you mean?
of this thing. CURTIS. I mean, how can you accept the fact that the God you dedicated
BILLY. Curt, I’m serious. So much to see. So much to take in. Listen to the your life to stands by and lets you slip away to eternity from a hospital
melody of the win. In that bird’s song, I hear God’s voice. In that tree, I bed?
see God’s hand. Everywhere I look, something reminds me how much BILLY. I’m not afraid of death if that’s what you’re asking. I know what

12 13
 eternity holds for me. God has granted me the His peace that passes all understanding.

The Top of Number 10

CURTIS. God has granted you nothing! Nothing! You’re dying and all you can
say is how much God cares? It’ll preach from a pulpit but not from a
deathbed. I’m sorry, but I don’t buy that—not for a moment!
by Wilma Suiter BILLY. (determined) Aren’t you the one who spoke to that crowd looking for
hope about how faith in God’s provision is the one thing that we can
SAM. So, I guess the rumors are true. Someone finally got you to settle down. Never always depend on?
thought I’d see the day. CURTIS. Those were just words—words that were fed to me and I, in turn, fed
JAKE. (shocked) Sam? them to others.
SAM. (simply greeting) Jake. BILLY. You’re right. They were just words—God’s words.
JAKE. You’re here? CURTIS. It was a different time. You know, if God really cared for you, he
SAM. Yeah. Been a while, huh? wouldn’t have let this happen. It would’ve been someone else.
JAKE. Why? BILLY. You mean someone who doesn’t know Him? Someone that doesn’t
SAM. Lots of reasons— have the promise that I do? For all these, you have been the person
JAKE. No. Why are you here? who I’ve looked to as a reflection of God’s light. Don’t let that light
SAM. Well, I would have called first, but all I had was the number from before you burn out. Let your light shine for the world to see.
moved. I actually did call that, but some woman answered and was CURTIS. Right now I don’t care if others see my light, or what little I have left. I
very rude. just want you to see it, however dim it may be. I just want you to be all
JAKE. Sam, I moved like six years ago. right.
SAM. Yeah—well—I said it’s been a while. BILLY. I will be all right. (pats him on the neck) I need to rest. The doctors say
JAKE. I guess you haven’t changed much. it will give me some strength, but Curtis I need a favor.
CURTIS. Anything.
END TEASER BILLY. I want to see the mountains one more time. Just once.
CURTIS. But the doctors won’t let you leave the hospital. There’s no way I
SAM. Remember the last time we were in this room together? could get you out of here.
JAKE. No. BILLY. I understand. Don’t worry. It was just a thought. I’ll see you tomorrow.
SAM. Ah, sure you do. Ash Wednesday—you were, like, nine and I was fifteen.
JAKE. (suddenly remembering) Oh, yeah. We took the grease from our CURTIS. When I got to the hospital the next day, Billy wasn’t there. It didn’t
foreheads and put it under our eyes and played GI Joe— make sense, but somehow he did. We contacted the media
SAM. —and Jane— outlets…he couldn’t have gotten far. All I knew to do…was pray.
JAKE. And the priest walked in and called us— (prays) God, I know my faith has been lacking lately, even the faith of
SAM. Something that should not be repeated in God’s house. a mustard seed is enough. Please bring Billy back. I know there’s some
(both revel in a moment of laughter before they settle into heavy silence again) great plan here, so…please…let your will be done. I just wanna know
SAM. (trying to stay in the moment) We should really do it again sometime. he’s okay. (cell phone rings) Hello?
JAKE. (trying to be congenial) Is it money? BILLY. Curtis?
SAM. (stung) What? CURTIS. Billy? Is that you? My God...where are you?
JAKE. Do you need money? Did you come here for money? BILLY. (calmly looking around) I’m with God.
SAM. Wow, Jakey you sound just like dad. CURTIS. What do you mean, Billy? I’m not following. How can you be with
JAKE. Don’t call me that. You’re not mom. God?
SAM. Well, thank God for small favors. BILLY. Curtis, I want you to know that God loves you and so do I, and not
JAKE. (suddenly panicked) They don’t know— matter how dark life seems, God will lead you through any burden that
SAM. That I’m here? No. Just you. But if they saw the way you tied that tie, they’d you may face. God walks the dark hills to show us the way. I’ve gotta
be turning shades of red Crayola hasn’t made yet. (looks at the tie on his go now…
neck which is apparently in shambles) Here. Let me help you. (answering his CURTIS. Billy! Billy, wait. Don’t hang up the phone…BILLY.
silent question) No, Jake, I don’t need money. (both are quiet as she ties
his tie) CURTIS. Billy’s body was found just outside the Miller Army base within the Ozark
JAKE. Well then? Mountains. No one knew how he got there…he couldn’t have known
SAM. Looks much better. the way, but there he was—within a few miles of the spot we were
JAKE. You know as well as I do that that’s not what I meant. months before. And I realized this the other day. It’s like what Billy once
SAM. Did you mean “Well then…why am I here in a church with my brother whom I told me:
haven’t seen in fifteen years?” BILLY. God leads us where he wants us to go in this life. And if we can’t walk
JAKE. Yeah. That’s exactly what the ‘well then’ meant. there on our own, he’ll carry us.
SAM. It’s complicated. CURTIS. And so I imagine him along that road, with God there right along side of
JAKE. (sarcastic) Well geeze, Sam. You sure picked a hell of a day to make things him. I can hear him singing in that sweet voice with a smile on his face
complicated. bright enough to bring the angels to earth…
SAM. Well, it’s what I do best. Jake, I was really messed up when we were kids. You BILLY. “He walks in silence, on down the highway…”
know that. CURTIS. God walks the dark hills…to show me the way.
JAKE. I do.

15 14
SAM. Well I’ve been sober for about ten years. I’m doing the twelve-step program. Henry Harris” embroidered over your heart. You wore a different green tie and
I’m on step ten. a new white shirt.
JAKE. Step ten? JAKE. You were there?
SAM. It’s where you track people down and say sorry. Anyone you’ve ever hurt SAM. Oh course I was there. I was proud of you...and proud of the fact that you
because of your addictions. I made a list and worked from the bottom to the finally changed your clothes.
top. I’ve been on step ten for about 8years. It’s a long list. JAKE. Why didn’t you—?
JAKE. Mom and Dad? SAM. What, come over and say ‘hi’?
SAM. Three and a half years ago. They appreciated the gesture, but as you can JAKE. Yeah?
tell, not much has changed. I don’t blame them—not at all. SAM. Because. I was only on step three. (long pause) Jake, there was never a
JAKE. So how many more are on your list? (not impressed, sighs deeply not looking moment when I quit being your sister. It was just—for a while—I didn’t think I
at her) Oh, I’m the top. deserved to be.
SAM. Hey, you’re the top—that’s a healthy way to put it. Ugh, this is exhausting. JAKE. Sam?
JAKE. Ok, so what now—- SAM. Jake, look, I just—I mean—I came here—what I have to say is —(long
SAM. I’m not here to make excuses for the things I did. pause)— I’m sorry—(exhales) I hope you know that was really really really
JAKE. Then why are you here? hard.
SAM. I’m trying to tell you what happened— JAKE. I know.
JAKE. Well, this should be good. SAM. Like really hard.
SAM. (shrugs) I’m your sister. JAKE. It’s going to take time, Sam.
JAKE. No! No, don’t do that. Don’t you dare play the family card. You don’t SAM. I know.
deserve— JAKE. Like a lot of time, but I suppose now as good a time as any to start.
SAM. I’m here, aren’t I? SAM. Looks like I’m just in time to not miss this moment in your life.
JAKE. Today. You’re here today, but what about all the birthdays, and gradua- JAKE. But you have to come over and at least say “hi” this time.
tions, and Christmases, and yesterday, Sam? What about yesterday, and SAM. ‘kay.
Saturday, and Wednesday and the last fifteen years?
SAM. Jake, I understand you’re angry. I deserve that, but if you’ll just listen—
JAKE. (starts losing it—laughs) No, Sam. You listen, ok? It’s your turn. You think
you’re the only one whose been dreaming up what to say for the last fifteen
years?
SAM. Ok, Jake. What do you want to say to me?
JAKE. (unflinching, simple) I hate you.
SAM. (calmly, building) Jake, you don’t hate me. You hate who I used to be. You
hate the me that was addicted to drugs, and alcohol, and sex. You hate the
me that was a professional screw-up and let-down artist. You hate the—
JAKE. You’re right, Sam. But guess what? Since you have been AWOL for all the
other seasons of your life, that’s the only you I know. The Sam I know took off
with my life savings in her pocket without so much as a goodbye. She left me
and everyone else in the world wondering if the next story on the news would
be an overdosed corpse of a teenage girl.
SAM. Jake, you have to believe me. I was scared and screwed up and I was
hurting.
JAKE. Screw you. You were not the victim in this!
SAM. I know that. That’s why I’m here. I’m trying—I’m telling the truth, I’ve
changed Jake. Please—
JAKE. Look, Sam,-this fairy tale ending of the reunion is a nice bedtime story, but
we’re both adults now and I feel like at this point in the game honesty is the
best policy.
SAM. I agree.
JAKE. Ok, then. I don’t know you and you don’t know me –brother and sister is only
a blood tie now, because you are a stranger to me.
JAKE. For crying out loud Sam, you weren’t even at my graduation. So spare me
your righteous twelve step rehabilitation group therapy “save me” crap. It’s
too late for that. It’s too late for you. It’s too late for me. And it’s definitely too
late for us. Just go and run away—you were always good at that.
SAM. You’re graduation gown from high school was blue.
JAKE. What?
SAM. It was blue. You wore a white shirt with a green tie. Your college gown was
maroon and you wore the same white shirt and the same green tie. I could
tell from the stain on the collar. Your white coat from med school had “Jacob

16 17
 MARK. Oh, and was that a blast.
LORI. And I had sing along with him as he danced on stage, dressed in a

Shotgun Blast tobythe Third Eye

Ingram Black and Dean Allen
MARK.
LORI.
giant turnip costume like the rest of the second graders.
Wait, Collins is dressed in a giant turnip costume?
Yeah, it’s friggin’ sweet, man.
MARK. You’re driving.
Based on the comic book by L. Mark Casey
SHOTGUN BLAST SCENE 3: COLIN ON STAGE.
SCENE 1: STUDIO/MARK’S APPARTMENT
Two turnips, one boy and one girl, stand on stage and sing. The girl is opera singer
MARK. I’ve got it!
good, and the boy isn’t.
LORI. Really?
BOY: We are giant turnips,
MARK. I’ve got it.
And, we are from the earth.
LORI. Great.
If you eat us quickly,
MARK. I’ve got it and its slap your grandmother in the face good.
GIRL: We’ll make you want to burp!
LORI. I’m listening.
BOY: Burp.
MARK. Oh, ha. I’ve got the feeling! The, “I’ve got it,” feeling! You know?
LORI. Yeah, right. Where it just, like, burns!?
SHOTGUN BLAST SCENE 4: IN THE KITCHEN MAKING DINNER
MARK. Yeah! Yeah!
MARK. You didn’t tell Collin’s mom about your stories, did you?
LORI. Yeah, that’s a sexually transmitted disease. I know a good doctor.
LORI. My stories? Dad tells them to you, dude.
MARK. [laughs] You just admitted you know a good STD doctor.
MARK. Oh, oh, right. Yeah, Dad tells them to me.
LORI. Touché, Mark. You always win.
LORI. Where are the pictures of Dad that talks to you?
MARK. Well, I am enlightened by my third eye… and you should be, too.
MARK. There on my shelf in that album. Do you finally wanna trip, lil’ sis?
LORI. Oh, please. Not that mushrooms crap.
LORI. I wouldn’t want to ruin your Dad time.
MARK. What? It works. It’s real. I take the mushrooms, I look at Dad’s pictures
MARK. Come on, just you and me. It’s Dad’s hallucinogenic day off.
and he tells me what we should write about. It’s proven.
LORI. Look, Mark, no offense, but I’m thirty-one.
LORI. So it’s proven if one trips mushrooms—while staring at a book of pictures
MARK. Gasp, no!
of our dead father—the pictures will tell an adventurous tale which to
LORI. Yeah, and I’m a little too old to trip… you know, weak hips, they break
write as a cartoon for his kid sister’s website?
easily when I fall. Also, I know for a fact that you bought your mids off a
MARK. Yes.
guy who prefers being called T-Rav over Travis. And third, I don’t feel
LORI. How? Where is that proven?
like waking up in a week on a bus out to St. Louis.
MARK. Right here, little sis. Here is your proof.
MARK. That was one time.
LORI. This is the monthly hit count for Shotgun Blast?
LORI. It took you a month to get back. I thought you had left me. It was just
MARK. Sort of. The actual title is Shot Gun Blast to the Third Eye, if you’ll
like Mom and Dad.
remember.
MARK. I know, and I’m sorry. And if you really didn’t want to trip ‘shrooms
LORI. Wow.
tonight, well, then, I’m really sorry. How do you like the salad, by the
MARK. I guess acting talent doesn’t have to remember the small details… like,
way?
title.
LORI. You’re a dick.
LORI. Our ad sales alone will gross 15,000! Holy crap, I can’t wait to see T-shirt
sales.
SCENE 5: DRIVING
MARK. So, does that mean you’ll finally try ‘shrooms?
LORI. How long does this take to work?
LORI. Touché, big brother. Touché, and no.
MARK. It should kick in as soon as we get out to the lake.
LORI. I can’t trip there. We grew up there.
END TEASER
MARK. Dude, that makes it better.
LORI. I haven’t been there since Dad shot him…
SCENE 2: MARK’S APPARTMENT
MARK. Don’t. Rule one: don’t talk about that. It is your first time and you can
LORI. You ready to go, bro?
easily freak yourself out on your first time. Plus, these are strong mids and
MARK. Lori! Shhh! [tripping]
you ate a lot.
LORI. Mark, what’s up? You okay?
LORI. I was hungry and I thought it was just salad!
MARK. I’m working on the website, shh.
MARK. Oh, I know, and it’s hilarious that you didn’t recognize the horrible
LORI. So, you’re on mushrooms? Mark, seriously? Come on, what the hell? It’s
taste.
Collin’s 2nd grade sing along tonight. You promised him you’d go when
LORI. I overuse ranch.
you missed his Christmas pageant.
MARK. Still, a bad trip could mess you up.
MARK. Collin? Oh, the boy! He’s in a show? I’ll watch it on TV!
LORI. Okay, sorry. I’m sorry to you, too.
LORI. I knew when we signed up for this “big brother - big sister” thing, sharing
MARK. Who are you talking to?
a kid was a bad idea. It’s just like when Mom left.
LORI. The dragon outside. Hey Dragon-y.
MARK. What do you mean?
MARK. Right.
LORI. Well, when it was just one parent it was like whenever we shared: you
LORI. Mark! Mark! Mark!
got to do the fun stuff, like drinking with him and his buddies.
MARK. What?

18 19
LORI. Is our old house enchanted? MARK. We’re going home.
MARK. No, it’s rented. So be quiet. LORI. No, I want to talk to Mom.
LORI. Right, I’ll talk softer. [In Lea’s voice]It’s super sweet here. MARK. You can’t!
MARK. Don’t do that voice. It’s creepy. LORI. Why not!
LORI. I want to suck your soul! And before you take off your shoe, please note, MARK. BECAUSE! YOU CAN ONLY TALK TO THEM AT MY APPARTMENT!
that, that is not the sole I was referring to. Oh, yeah! The lake! The lake! LORI. OH! WELL, FINE!
MARK. Whoa, Lori…not too close. Lori! Lori! Lori!
LORI. It’s fine. It’s fine. I can walk on water. SCENE 7: THE APPARTMENT.
MARK. Lori, I don’t think you want to talk about this shit now.
SCENE 5: AT THE APARTMENT LORI. You don’t know what I’m thinking, Mark.
LORI. Mark, who am I? “Blibliblibli.” MARK. I wish I did, Lori.
MARK. The Pope? LORI. Do you really, Mark? Well, fine: the backdrop is a picture of Dad
LORI. Good, for 2,000 dollars. Now? “Blibliblibli.” slumped over at his desk, bleeding on a suicide note and staring
MARK. Michael J. Fox? blankly towards a door that his 12 year old daughter was running
LORI. Ooh, I’m sorry. The correct answer was Mohamed Ali. I would’ve also through.
accepted Richard Pryor. MARK. Lori, you have to let Dad’s selfish decision go. People do stupid things…
MARK. Classy joke, sis. LORI. Oh, I’m over the suicide, Mark. After Mom left, I was used to the
LORI. [Looking to hell] I know, see you in a bit! Whoa look at this! [Flips book abandonment. No, what bugs me is the letter. The apology/suicide
around and moves it back and forth. The colored pages of actress note, the one addressed to you and not me. I guess it’s easy for you to
1’s book follow slightly behind to show “tracers”] forgive a guy who apologizes, but thinks my face reminds him of the
LORI. Mark, why did Dad do it? woman who ruined his life. Yeah, I read the letter. “Mark, I hope we
MARK. Lori, don’t. Trust me. can somehow stay in touch. Take care of your sister. Don’t let her ruin
LORI. I am sorry. I have to know. your life by ruining her own; those blondes will do that to you.”
MARK. No, you just think that you want to know because you’re tripping. MARK. You read it?
LORI. No, Mark. Tell me. Why’d he go? Mom left us, too. No, Mom left me. LORI. Yes, I found the body.
You’re lucky that you were Dad’s kid and I was Mom’s. MARK. I know. I hoped you hadn’t seen…
MARK. What are you talking about? LORI. Hey, no it’s great. And, who would’ve thought, you two still keep in
LORI. You know: Dad was your parent, and Mom was mine. So, that means touch… and I’m still creating voices to keep me company.
that you had a parent for 6 years longer than me. MARK. Lori, Dad was sick. Mom was too.
MARK. What? That makes no sense. And, quit talking in that voice – this is Lori LORI. Stop defending them, Mark! What are you afraid your picture of Dad
and Mark time, no Lea wanted. will get mad at you? Oh, or am I starting to ruin your life, by ruining my
LORI. I’m not being Lea, Mark. This is young Lori. own?
MARK. Well, how about we play with older Lori, now? MARK. Damn it, Lori. You don’t get it.
LORI. No, I want to see, Mom. If you can see Dad, then I will be able to see LORI. Get what? Parents? Nope, I sure didn’t.
Mom. But this is how I talked when she left, and if I talk normal, then MARK. Neither of us had parents. Mom was a junky, and Dad was a drunk.
how will Mom recognize me? Yes, after she left I was with him a lot, but it’s because I wanted him
MARK. Oh, Lori. stay alive long enough to get over her. I talked that gun out of his
LORI. I have her picture, too. Mark, get her to talk to us. Please? mouth 3 times. And every time he got a little better, you’d say some-
MARK. Lori, I don’t think she’ll talk. thing, he’d think of Mom and I’d have to sit with him until he threw up
LORI. What? But, Dad talks to you. or passed out.I don’t know why he couldn’t see Mom in you and be
MARK. Yeah, sort of. happy - that’s what I did. And I don’t know why he couldn’t.
LORI. So, what? Not only did your parent live longer, but also he talks to you LORI. Well, let’s ask him. Where’s your photo book?
after he’s dead? That’s not fair, Mark. MARK. What? No, let’s not.
MARK. Lori, Dad was your Dad, too. And Mom was my Mom, too. And they
both died, and that sucks. LORI. Why not? Oh, do you not really talk to Dad like you say? Is that just
LORI. F-you, Mark. I can’t believe you’re so blind. You remember how Dad some ploy to remind me of how much Dad loved you, and hated me?
didn’t ever hang out with me. Do you blame me for reminding him of Mom? Is that it?
MARK. No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. MARK. Fine, look at the picture.
LORI. Uh, okay… do you remember how Dad used to always take us to that LORI. It’s me.
crappy breakfast place after your soccer team, which he coached, MARK. Yes, because you are it. You are my inspiration. I look at your picture,
played a game? Lori? Lori! Lori?
MARK. Yeah.
LORI. He never took us after my games. SCENE 7: GOODBYE PAGE
MARK. You didn’t play soccer. MARK. Well, that’s the end. Thank you for reading about our life. It’s flattering
LORI. Because no one ever asked me if I wanted to, Mark. Because Mom to know that I am so fucked up that people pay to hear about it. I
had her dope, you had Dad, and Dad had you. And I made up appreciate all of the letters, and support. Lori also appreciates it.
voices for my dolls because I was so lonely. I was lonely, and you were Doctors have told me that she is doing better, but full recovery has
captain of the soccer team. been a few months away for the last 5 years and until full recovery its

5 21
best if I stay away. I hope this has opened up a gateway to the
answers you’re looking for. In honor of Lori, please, be careful of your
third eye, if you look to deep it’s very hard to close.
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