From Raisin in the Sun
When I was very small...we used to take our sleds out in the wintertime and the only hills we had were the ice covered stone steps of some houses down the street. And we used to fill them in with snow and make them smooth and slide down them all day...and it was very dangerous you know...far too steep...and sure enough one day a kid named Rufus came down too fast and hit the sidewalk...and we saw his face just split open right there in front of us...and I remember standing there looking at his bloody open face thinking that was the end of Rufus. But the ambulance came and they took him to the hospital and they fixed the broken bones and they sewed it all up...and the next time I saw Rufus he just had a little line down the middle of his face...I never got over that... That that was what one person could do for another, fix him up--sew up the problem, make him all right again. That was the most marvelous thing in the world...I wanted to do that. I always thought it was the one concrete thing in the world that human being could do. Fix up the sick, you know--and make them whole again. This was truly being God...
Thanksgiving in the Wilderness by Kellie Powell Rita: You know what, jack-ass? The world is full of guys like you - sarcastic guys who spend all their time cleverly pointing out the shortcomings of others, rolling their eyes, shaking their heads, passing judgment and cracking jokes. You're not unique. You're just one more pretentious bastard. I've had enough of guys like you, you supposedly "damaged" guys who don't "believe" in monogamy anymore, who want to just sleep around, who announce ahead of time that they're not interested in being someone's boyfriend. You think this honesty makes you a decent person, but at the end of the day, you're still taking advantage of women who, for whatever reason, don't know that they deserve better. Emily is an amazing woman! She is beautiful and smart and funny, and if you think you can find another girl like her, you can't. She is one of a kind, and any guy would be lucky to have her. And you treated her like last week's garbage! Okay,screw this…let’s go home. Ritual By Ken Bradbury When I was little..not really, really little, but just little enough to be stupid without anyone noticing, I’d go through the same thing when I went to bed every night. You see, when you’ve got these twin things going against you….youth and stupidity…well, the world’s wide open to your imagination. There was something under my bed…I mean, I’m pretty sure it was under my bed. It wasn’t there in the daytime because I’d look whenever Mom was in the room, but Mom wasn’t in the room at night and I sure as hell wasn’t going to look under my bed without Mom there. So to make sure that this…this “thing” wouldn’t grab my foot as I got into bed, I’d take one, huge giant step from my dresser to my bed. It was terrifying. For this one split second my bare leg would be in mid-air. Once I tried to take a run at it and jump into bed with my legs tucked up under me in sort of a pike position. That’s when I found out that if your young and your stupid, it’s a really bad idea to add uncoordinated to mix. I landed with my nose against the head board and blood on my pillow. Still…it was better than getting chewed to death and strangled then mutilated by whatever was under my bed. I haven’t done that for years. I brush my teeth, check my messages, call my boyfriend to say goodnight then fall asleep reading. I miss my monster.
Like Dreaming, Backwards by Kellie Powell Natalie: I dropped her off, that night, about a quarter to two. I should have asked her to come over. Or at least asked her if anything was wrong. But she seemed normal. Not happy, exactly. But... like herself.
I met her in freshman year, in Introduction to British Literature. We made each other laugh. She was... bitter, and cynical, but still, really nice... I knew she had depression... but... it was weird. We had fun together, you know? I never really made sense of that.
That night, we saw a play. And then we went to a midnight movie. I was nodding off through the last half of it, I'd gotten up early that morning to go running. And, I keep wondering... if there was something... in the play, or in the movie, some trigger, or... some reason. Something that could... set her off, you know? Something I missed. I just keep trying to look for clues. For answers. She had survived so much. Why that night?
I Ate The Divorce Papers by Gabriel Davis (longish…needs cutting) I ate them. That’s right. I ate the divorce papers, Charles. I ate them with ketchup. And they were good...goooood. You probably want me to get serious about our divorce. The thing is you always called our marriage a joke. So let’s use logic here: If A we never had a serious marriage then B we can’t have a serious divorce. No. We can’t. The whole thing’s a farce, Charles – a farce that tastes good with ketchup. (beat) I mean, wasn’t it last week, your dad asked you the reason you walked down that aisle with me, and you said “for the exercise.” Ha, ha. That’s funny. You’re a funny guy, Charles. I’m laughing, not a crying. Ha, ha. I’m laughing because you’re about to give up on a woman who is infinitely lovable. (beat) For instance: Paul. He has loved me since the eighth grade. Sure, he’s a little creepy, but he reeeeally loves me. He’s made one hundred twenty seven passes at me, proposed forty seven times, and sent me over two hundred original love sonnets. He sees something in me, Charles. And he writes it down, in metered verse! (beat) And that’s not something you just find everyday. Someone who really loves everything about who you are as a person. Paul may be insane, but I value his feelings for me. (beat) I would never ask him to sign his name to a piece of paper promising to just turn off his feelings for me forever. But that’s what you’re asking me to do, for you. To sign away my right to...to that sweet voice Charles, those baby brown eyes, the way you hands feel through my hair before bed... (beat) Those aren’t things I want to lose. In fact, I won’t lose them. I won’t lose you. I’ll woo you. I’ve written you a sonnet. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day. Thou art more lovely and more temperate, rough winds do shake the darling buds of may and...” I’m not crying. I’m laughing. It’s all a big joke. It’s very funny, Charles. I keep waiting for you to say “April Fools.” Then I’ll rush into your arms and... But you’re not going to, are you? No. Of course not. It’s not April. (beat) I, I didn’t really write that sonnet, you know. Paul did. I think it’s good. (beat) You see, the truth...the truth is, Charles, I ate the divorce papers, I ate them, because I can’t stomach the thought of losing you.