Reality's Breakdown: A Play in One Act
Jake, Nora, and the sentences we never thought we'd say.
A brief departure from our normal fare…
Occasionally, a conversation between my wife and me will ramp up in strangeness to the point where one of us says something completely outlandish and the other wonders aloud, “Do you think that sentence has ever been uttered before, anywhere in the universe?”
Well, apparently
is a veritable factory for such sentences. So much so that Demi Pietchell is using them as fodder for a writing contest, of which these are the salient rules:• Use any or many of these collected sentences in a story or a poem that you write.
• No editing the prompts. They must remain intact.
You can see the full list of loony sentences here.
It’s a great idea, and I could not resist entering! Below is my submission: a short one-act play. In spite of the multifarious and completely insane nature of the prompts, I tried to use as many as I could and make the story as coherent as possible. It takes a moment, but then it really gets rolling. You can be the judge!
Note that the prompts include bad language and outré imagery, and so my story does too. If those sorts of things bother you, please skip this one.
Note also that Substack does not allow for proper screenplay-style formatting, so I got as close as I could.
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INT. CABIN — MORNING
NORA sits on the bed, with her back against the wall. Her best friend JAKE is sitting on the floor eating a can of deviled ham with a plastic spoon.
NORA
I can’t tell the days apart anymore. What day is it?
JAKE
It's Blurrrrrrrrsday, the firsteenth of Dodecatober.
Calendar makes weird noises, morphs into Bucky Ball... grows feet... runs out of frame like a Terry Gilliam animation.
NORA
Okay…that was weird. This was not on my Bingo card for today.
JAKE
What’s the big deal? That happens every seven years.
NORA
Oh yeah. Was that seven years? Already?
JAKE
Time flies.
NORA
Sure does. Especially when you're being taunt-serenaded by a hyperdimensional.
JAKE
I am not a hyperdimensional!
NORA
Are so.
JAKE
Am not. And I do not taunt-serenade.
NORA
Do so.
Jake fiddles with his empty can of deviled ham.
JAKE
I definitely don’t. But…I think I might already be a quantum hunting glitch dreamer.
NORA
Well that explains it.
JAKE
Explains what?
NORA
It explains why, in the middle of the night last night, you woke up and started singing.
JAKE
Singing what?
NORA
No, I can’t. It’s too weird.
JAKE
C’mon, just tell me.
NORA
(sighing)
Fine. You sang,
"I wish I had a ghillie suit,
specifically designed,
for walking around ABC Home,
in New York undetected...."
And you did it to the tune of “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Frankly, it was pretty unsettling.
Jake laughs and tosses the empty can into the trash across the room.
JAKE
That’s not that weird.
NORA
Yeah…it is. And look how creepy these lyrics are in context.
JAKE
What context? ABC Home doesn’t even exist anymore. For that matter, does New York even still exist?
NORA
How should I know? We’ve been stuck in this cabin for years.
JAKE
We’re not stuck. We’re hiding. Staying safe. Would you rather be out there with the…y’know.
NORA
Don’t say it…
JAKE
Don’t say what? Oh, you mean don’t say… “WEAPONIZED BAT ANUS?!?!?”
NORA
Yes, don’t say that.
JAKE
Weaponized bat anus. Weaponized bat anus. Weaponized bat anus.
NORA
(throws a pillow at Jake)
You’re such a child.
JAKE
I’M a child? Oh please.
If I roll my eyes any harder, I'll be looking myself right in the pineal gland.
Nora sticks her tongue out at Jake.
NORA
YOU’RE a pineal gland.
JAKE
No, you’re a pineal gland
NORA
I know you are but what am I?
Wait…I know how to settle this.
I DEMAND ZERO-G PEEP JOUSTING!
JAKE
We did zero-G peep-jousting yesterday.
NORA
Fine. Then what do you want to do?
JAKE
Tell me the story again of how all this started.
NORA
You know all that. I’ve told you a hundred times.
JAKE
So? Do you have somewhere else to be? Tell me again. But this time skip all the “Blah blah blah fear fear blah Hegelian dialectic Hegelian dialectic blah yadda yadda blah.”
NORA
I’m not sure how to tell the story without referencing Hegel, but…okay.
JAKE
I’m sure you’ll muddle through somehow.
Nora rolls her eyes, briefly examines her pineal gland, and then begins.
NORA
It started with Poseidon and my makeup bag.
JAKE
That’s not how the story starts.
NORA
Who’s telling this story?
JAKE
(with mock-sheepishness)
Sorry. I’ll be good.
NORA
Okay then. But you’re right. It actually started with a cover band of stepdads.
JAKE
A what of stepdads?
NORA
A cover band. Yunno those collective nouns, like a murder of crows, or an uneasy partnership of coyotes? It popped into my head that a group of stepdads should be called a "cover band."
JAKE
(sarcastically)
Okay…
NORA
So there I was, on the beach. There was, I dunno, this group of stepdads—like it was some sort of convention or something…
JAKE
THAT’S what you should call them. A convention. A convention of stepdads.
NORA
You gonna keep interrupting?
JAKE
Par for the course around here.
NORA
Aaaaannnyway. This one stepdad played a mean didgeridoo. And I got super into listening, and lost track of time. Then I started dancing and lost track of my stuff. Before I knew it, the sun had come up, and I couldn’t find my makeup bag.
JAKE and NORA in unison
The makeup bag that my grandma gave to me on my 16th birthday.
NORA
(glowers at Jake for a beat)
So I’m like totally freaking out. And then I thought, “I'm so glad I globulated the sunscreen on my chain-powered duo wheel machine rider today.” I can ride it around and look for my makeup bag.
Nora stares off into space for a moment, remembering.
NORA, cont’d
The tide had left little round divots in the sand, like inverted pancakes. Unfortunately, the reverse moonshine was truly undarkened and gave rise to truly daunting pancake riding.
JAKE
No matter how many times you say that sentence, it never makes sense.
NORA
Whatevs. You had to be there.
So I am riding up and down and up and down, freaking out looking for my makeup bag. And then it happened—Poseidon just emerged from the water.
Nora stands up, puffs up, and effects a booming voice.
NORA (as Poseidon)
“THE LIGHTHOUSE DOES NOT GO RUNNING UP AND DOWN THE BEACH.”
NORA
(quoting herself, meekly)
“Excuse me, sir, but I am not a lighthouse. I’m a girl. The light you see is from my chain-powered duo-wheel machine. Have you seen my makeup bag?”
NORA (as Poseidon)
“THE LIGHTHOUSE WILL BE SILENT!”
Nora gestures forcefully with her arm, as if she is holding a trident aloft.
NORA
At this point, the stepdads have taken notice and started walking over. And Poseidon starts doing something really strange with his trident. “What the hell is he doing?” I screamed.
Then the didgeridoo player walked up to me. “He's trying to cut a hole in the ocean,” he said. “I think he’s pissed.”
JAKE
(interrupting)
You need to tell the ghost people this story and make them look for Dave.
NORA
We haven’t heard from the ghost people in weeks, and Dave’s been missing for three years. You need to let it go. Can I continue?
JAKE
Fine.
NORA
So Poseidon swirls and swirls his trident until a big hole opened up in the ocean. And that’s when all hell broke loose.
Jake scoots forward on the floor, facing Nora directly, like a schoolboy eager to receive a new lesson.
NORA
Weirdly, the first thing I noticed wasn’t the insanity streaming out of the hole in the ocean. It was just two little giraffodils in a cock pot, afloat at sea.
JAKE
What’s a “cock pot”?
NORA
(sighing)
CRock pot. You know what I meant. A little bucket thingy.
JAKE
Is that a cooking pot or a champagne chiller? Details matter. Those are two completely different vibes.
NORA
Oh gee, I would have thought the important part of that sentence was the freakin’ GIRAFFODIL! You know—long neck, spots, but growing out of dirt, and with leaves for arms…?
JAKE
I’ve seen one of those before.
NORA
Have not!
JAKE
Have so. I just didn't know it had a name.
Jake smirks puckishly.
JAKE, cont’d
That's all. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
NORA
(smiling, in spite of herself)
You’re such a tool.
So then I look over and see someone on a surfboard coming up from out of the hole and surfing toward the beach. And as she gets closer, I realize it’s Cleopatra—or at least some ancient Egyptian queen of some sort. And then I look closer and I’m all like, “Oh god. Why does Cleopatra have a tail?!?!?!?!”
JAKE
I bet she looked hot with a tail.
NORA
Freakin’ weirdo.
So then I see a bunch of those baby aliens from those old “Aliens” movies swimming through the water. You know the ones that gestate inside and then burst out…
JAKE
(shudders)
Horrifying.
NORA
Yeah, and the only thing more horrifying is that one of them was wearing a 1920s flapper hat with huge pink feathers sticking out of it—like some old vaudeville performer. And—oh God—it was looking right at me…and singing!
Having already heard the story many times, Jake chimes in.
JAKE
(singing)
Oh my darlin’
Oh my darlin’
Oh my darlin’ Clementine,
You’re a SWERFY,
SWERF-a-SWERFY
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.
NORA
Right! So by this point, the alien babies are getting closer, and the stepdads are screaming and freaking out. But all I hear is the vaudeville chestburster calling me a SWERF.
(beat)
What even is a SWERF?
JAKE
SWERFS were those little blue people in an old cartoon. A whole bunch of SWERFS and one SWERFETTE.
NORA
Oh yeah, that’s right.
So then things go from weird to weirder. The alien chestburster babies surround the stepdads and start hypnotizing them. Stuff starts pouring out of the hole faster than I can keep track. Strange animals. Silent-movie villains. Stuff that just…shouldn’t be.
JAKE
(chimes in)
The horse sitting on itself and the cloud with the face are the stuff of NIGHTMARES.
NORA
Totally. At this point, I hadn’t even noticed that the pot with the giraffodils had washed up next to me, because I was watching this guy that looked like Bill Gates walk out of the water, straight at me. He’s wearing this pastel-colored polyester shirt, and he has little…ugh, so gross—I cannot even say it.
JAKE
Bitch tits.
NORA
Thanks. Ick. And then he smiles this really creepy smile and says, “Gynoconamaste… the bitch tits in Bill Gates recognize the bitch tits in the meme.”
Jake sticks his pinky in his open mouth, in a barf-me-out gesture.
NORA
I know, right?
“That doesn’t even make sense,” I screamed. And then one of the giraffodils spoke to me.
NORA (as Giraffodil #1)
(like a master delivering sage wisdom to a student)
”What you do not understand, young Clementine…”
NORA
My name’s Nora.
NORA (as Giraffodil #1)
”What you do not understand, young Nora Clementine, is that that is not Bill Gates at all.
NORA
Well then who is it?
NORA (as Giraffodil #1)
His name is Robert Paulson.
NORA
And then the hypnotized Stepdads all chimed in:
”His name is Robert Paulson. His name is Robert Paulson.”
At this point, Nora barely notices Jake. She’s just acting out the past.
NORA
(shouting)
What the shit? All I wanted was my makeup bag!
NORA (as Giraffodil #2)
“Don't worry. They're just trying to see how long it takes you to vomit out your insides like a sea cucumber and slink away into the darkness to regenerate.”
NORA
Then the giraffodil #1 shushed him, pulled out a small, important-looking book, pointed to it, and said to the other,
NORA (as Giraffodil #1)
“Not yet. You come up in this when she gets to the whale in reverse.”
NORA
So naturally I start scanning the water for a whale in reverse. Whatever that is.
JAKE
Did you ever see it?
NORA
No. But I did see the vaudeville chestburster herding elephants in a stone bodysuit. But at this point, herding elephants in a stone bodysuit is normal.
(beat)
That’s when I saw Dave.
JAKE
Man, I miss Dave.
NORA
(sighing)
Me too.
Nora looks wistful for a moment.
NORA
Dave runs up, takes me by the hand and leads me away from the beach.
“It’s not just here, Nora,” he said. “The fabric of reality is breaking down everywhere.”
We got to his car and he said, “We have to get somewhere safe. I’ll drive. You keep your eyes open for weaponized bat anus.”
JAKE
Ha—you said, “weaponized bat anus.”
NORA
(ignoring the comment)
“It’s all my fault,” I told him as we drove. “If I hadn’t lost that stupid makeup bag…”
I started telling him the whole story, but he interrupted me: “It’s not your fault, Nora. All of this happened regardless of giraffodils. Or Poseidon. Or your makeup bag. That's how bad it is.
Jake cracks open another can of deviled ham.
NORA, cont’d
And that’s when we picked you up, and you know the rest.
JAKE
Yup.
(then, smiling)
At least there’s plenty of deviled ham.
Nora looks out the cabin widow with a thousand-yard stare.
NORA
(somberly)
Of all the darks, this is one of them. And it lasts for an amount of time. It could last forever, but then we wouldn't care. Because we'd be dead. And there would be no one left to care.
JAKE
Don’t be morose. Have some breakfast.
NORA
Jake…would you still love me if I was a spaghetti worm trapped in a straw? If we was spaghetti straw worms, would you keep me safe in your frog hovel?
JAKE
Of course, Nora. Always.
BRAVO!!
Clap. Clap. CLAP!! 🤣🤣🤣
This is definitely great! Have you ever done any fictional writing? Screenplay writing? It's really good.