Evgueni. How are you Mr. Mose?
Rouslan Mose. Well, you know why I’m here.
Evgueni. Yes, and I just called one of our drivers. He’ll be in with your car in a few minutes. It came straight from the factory.
Rouslan Mose. He’s driving from the factory? Where’s the factory?
Evgueni. No, it was just shipped in from the German factory. It’s coming from the port.
Rouslan Mose. So the car will carry a German smell.
End. A German Intimation

Hafid. The big game’s tomorrow.
Dor. Yup.
Hafid. You’re gonna be working, aren’t you?
Dor. Gotta pay the bills.
Hafid. So you’re telling me you’re gonna be just fine driving your bus up and down the city while the game is going on?
Dor. I’m taking a radio with me.
Hafid. What radio?
Dor. I’m borrowing Luben’s radio so I can listen to the game.
Hafid. Lube’s radio? That thing’s the size of a piano. Where you gonna put that thing? On your lap?
Dor. I’ve got some room by the steering wheel.
Hafid. Isn’t there a rule where you can’t play a radio in the bus? What are you gonna do, use head phones or something?
Dor. I shouldn’t use head phones while driving.
Hafid. You’re gonna play the game in your bus?
Dor. Yup.
Hafid. I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable listening to the game in your bus.
Dor. I wouldn’t expect you to.
Hafid. If I can bring beers, maybe. I’d drink them in paper bags.
Dor. They’d be sodas to me.
End. Game to Bus

Ophelie. Hello.
Gurvarinder. Hello.
Ophelie. We met before. At the bus station.
Gurvarinder. That’s right.
Ophelie. Still reading the book, I see.
Gurvarinder. I’m a slow reader.
Ophelie. You never asked me if I gambled.
Gurvarinder. I’m sorry?
Ophelie. I asked you if you gambled.
Gurvarinder. Because of the book.
Ophelie. Yeah, but you never asked me if I gambled.
Gurvarinder. I guessed that you didn’t.
Ophelie. Really? Why?
Gurvarinder. You told me you finished the book in a day, but it wasn’t because counting cards was exciting to you, but because these counters were living the lives of whales. That’s intriguing. Beating the system.
Ophelie. To you as well.
Gurvarinder. Is there a system you want to beat?
Ophelie. The system of settlement.
Gurvarinder. That’s a hard one.
Ophelie. It is. I’m near collapse. I’ve gone as far as I can.
Gurvarinder. So that’s it? You’re settling down?
Ophelie. That is of course until I’m tired of settling down.
Gurvarinder. I don’t know how much I can help you, but I’d be willing to try.
Ophelie. Are you asking me out on a date?
Gurvarinder. It’s not exactly high stakes.
End. One to One

Chirashanthi. So what’s the plan for today?
Giunior. We’re going to the beach.
Chirashanthi. Crabbing?
Giunior. The chicken legs are packed in ice and the string is in my bag.
Chirashanthi. Not going to do the crab traps this time?
Giunior. Never again.
Chirashanthi. It’s a good idea if you do it right. I mean, all the crabs do is walk into the trap to get the bait and we pull them up. We just didn’t know about the rocks last time.
Giunior. Yeah, the last time we lost both traps in the rock. We came home with just the rope.
Chirashanthi. What happened to that rope?
Giunior. I brought it with me when I went to Nepal.
Chirashanthi. Not for climbing, I hope.
Giunior. No, not for climbing, but I did actually use it.
Chirashanthi. When?
Giunior. We used it to pull out a boy’s body that was caught deep in the rocks of a river.
Chirashanthi. Was the boy okay?
Giunior. He fell off a cliff into the water. We finally found his body after three days.
Chirashanthi. Did you know him?
Giunior. No, I was around when they found the body, and I offered the rope to get him out of the rocks. A couple days later, the family found the room I was staying to thank me. They also returned the rope to me, but I didn’t want it, and the family didn’t want it, so I gave it away.
Chirashanthi. To who?
Giunior. Some trekker in a café. I overheard a conversation between him and his friend about getting some rope but not wanting to pay foreigner prices for it.
Chirashanthi. I’m surprised that you gave the rope away.
Giunior. I’m surprised too. That was a memento from our trip to the shore, but that rope also became the rope that pulled that boy’s body out of the water. It changed. I couldn’t keep it, but I did tell the trekkers the history behind the rope so they didn’t simply consider it a length of ordinary rope.
Chirashanthi. Remember how hard you pulled trying to get those cages out of the rocks?
Giunior. People around us thought we caught something enormous. I was embarrassed and proud at the same time. I really let the fact that the rope was used to pull out a dead body affect me. Because of the rope, I had some sort of far connection to his death.
Chirashanthi. I had a far connection to death once.
Giunior. Really? What was it?
Chirashanthi. I was on a train that hit a car at a crossing. Both the driver and passenger died. When it happened, I remember being half asleep since it was so late, but I barely realized that the train felt as if it was sliding across the tracks rather than rolling along them. Two hours later did the engineer announce why we stopped. After a couple more hours, we continued to the next station. I looked in newspapers at the library to see if there was an article written about it, but there was nothing. Two people died, and I was in the train that killed them. That’s my far connection to death.
Giunior. I sometimes imagine our crab traps still out there in the water with crabs living out the rest of their lives in them with the occasional attempt of cutting through the cage with their claws.
Chirashanthi. Do you sometimes think of the boy in the river?
Giunior. Sometimes. Do you think of those two people who died in the car?
Chirashanthi. Sometimes.
End. Far Connections

One.
Evengia. How’s it going?
Milen. I’m a little frustrated.
Evengia. What happened?
Milen. We were in the library, and Anet asked me what I was reading. I told her that I was reading an article on the effect on a person’s height and how the Europeans are generally taller than Americans when a couple of years ago, it was the other way around. She found it interesting so I continued with an observation.

Two.
Milen. I remember how much taller the Germans were when they played U.S.A. in the World Cup, but I guess one reason would be because tall people in America would play basketball rather than soccer.
Evengia. Yeah, really.
Orlin. But height doesn’t correlate into playing better soccer.
Milen. It helps. America looked helpless against Germany.
Orlin. That’s Germany. Look at Brazil. They’ve got to be one of the smallest teams.
Milen. That’s true.

Three.
Evengia. You’re frustrated because Orlin proved your little theory wrong?
Milen. I didn’t say that to be tall was to be a superior soccer player. I just used the World Cup as an example because it was the only forum I could think of where you could generally compare the heights of two different nations.
Evengia. Interesting, Orlin misunderstood your point.
Milen. I didn’t realize what happened until a couple minutes later, but by then, we were talking about something else.
Evengia. You didn’t talk about it?
Milen. Would you?
Evengia. I think it’s interesting enough to point it out. You’re pointing it out to me. So he thinks he’s right, and you know you’re right. No big deal, right?
Milen. I want Orlin to know he’s wrong.
End. Wrong Talk

Faisal. Abdel, get up.
Abdel. What are you doing in my bedroom, Faisal?
Faisal. They opened up the Jordan border. Can you believe it?
Abdel. No, I cannot. Now let me sleep.
Faisal. You don’t understand, Abdel. We can go to Jordan and come back with a used-car.
Abdel. Who do you think I am? How am I supposed to get a car?
Faisal. They have cheap used cars in Jordan.
Abdel. Who told you this?
Faisal. Lutfu. He’s taking his truck and his son to get a car for himself.
Abdel. He’s crazy. He has a nice truck. Why does he need another car?
Faisal. Because they’re cheap.
Abdel. How cheap?
Faisal. Three hundred and twenty five.
Abdel. Why do you need to lie to get me out of my bed?
Faisal. I do not lie to you.
Abdel. I’ve always wanted to drive down the new highway.
Faisal. I know.
Abdel. Does the Wadi El Murbah travel all the way to Amman?
Faisal. I’m not sure. I believe so.
Abdel. We can float in the Dead Sea.
Faisal. Are you awake now?
End. Awake in the Dead Sea

Acquistapace. Is that it?
Essa. This is it. This is what I’ve been telling you about.
Acquistapace. Does it work?
Essa. I just conducted a test just before you got here. I have to tell you. I’m a little shaken. I’m still getting used to having my deep emotions revealed to me in such a plain and visible manner.
Acquistapace. Are you okay?
Essa. I’ll be okay. I’m emotionally exhausted though.
Acquistapace. You look it. I’m a little concerned. Do you want to lie down?
Essa. No, I’ll be fine, but don’t be alarmed if I let loose into tears.
Acquistapace. This isn’t right, Essa. How can you say you’re going to be fine?
Essa. You have to believe me, Acquistapace. I feel emotionally released. I know I sound like I’ve lost my head, but I feel humiliated and liberated. I feel like my life is going to change because of this.
Acquistapace. I don’t know what to think of all this. You’re telling me your machine did this to you?
Essa. Yes. You might not understand though. You should try the machine yourself. Here, put this on you head.
Acquistapace. Get that thing off me!
End. Fear of Freedom

Endri. You know, I thought that cooking meals would satisfy my need to create something.
Tzipora. It doesn’t?
Endri. I’ve been trying to figure why it hasn’t. I mean, it has some components of creation: creating something from several different things, having an audience enjoy it, what else? Is that all?
Tzipora. Doesn’t it take some imagination to cook?
Endri. I think that’s what’s missing. I have no imagination in my cooking.
Tzipora. What do you mean? You’re cooking is great.
Endri. But I’m just following directions. I could almost say that I’m afraid to do something off from what the recipe instructs. If I don’t have rosemary, I have to go to the market and get some. I can’t improvise really. It’s a little unsettling. I’ve been reevaluating how I go about life. I think it goes further than following recipes with mindless precision. My life is on cruise control. Any deviation from the straight line I’ve led myself to believe in following and I reveal how truly paralyzed I am.
Tzipora. When you’re cooking and following the recipe, how certain are you that whatever you cook will come out right?
Endri. I guess it depends, but most of the time I suffer from the anxiety that it won’t be any good.
Tzipora. I wonder if it’s similar to when mothers experience anxiety about their baby before their born.
Endri. I guess it would be easier if I cooked all by myself. I wouldn’t care about the outcome of what I cooked, but when I cook for others, I find myself asking how they liked the meal.
Tzipora. It makes sense. You’re cooking for them.
Renata. Then who am I living for because it doesn’t feel like myself.
End. Cooking for Life

Torben. Read this.
Petra. What is this, a recipe?
Torben. Yeah, but look at what the recipe’s for.
Petra. I don’t get it. Filet mingon’s been crossed out and your name’s in place of it. Two eight-ounce Torben steaks. You better not be planning to cook yourself, because I don’t think I could look at your empty face as I cut into your flesh.
Torben. Elspeth mailed this to me.
Petra. Elspeth? Sounds like she’s mad at you.
Torben. Yeah, interesting how her want to devour me equates into hatred.
Petra. What did you do?
Torben. She caught me kicking her dog.
Petra. You kicked her dog?
Torben. I’ve always believed that there are two types of people. There are people who adore dogs and have no problems adoring any dog anywhere. Then there are people who simply don’t know what to do with dogs and become confused so they do things they wouldn’t normally do.
Petra. Like kick them?
Torben. Do you want to eat me too?
Petra. It does say to wrap you in bacon.
Torben. I guess it’ll help bring the flavor out of me.
End. Wrap Bacon Around Steaks and Tie
psatwentyseventwo

Antonelle. I saw a strange thing with this man at a payphone last night.
Torsten. What happened?
Antonelle. Okay, well. He’s an older man. Let’s say he’s in his seventies because of his stringy silver hair and crumpled arms. Anyway, he’s bending over the dial pad with this flashlight flashing into the numbers.
Torsten. Sounds like he came prepared.
Antonelle. Yeah, it’s as if he’s had this problem before where he could not read the dial pad at night and got tired of it, so his solution is to bring a flashlight with him so that he wouldn’t have to read in the dark.
Torsten. I wonder who he would be calling.
Antonelle. Wife or a son or daughter to ask them where he is and to pick him up? I don’t know. It’s something that he does with frequency.
Torsten. It’s a little strange. Why doesn’t he realize that the numbers on all payphones are identical? He could just memorize the layout.
Antonelle. I guess bringing the flashlight is a more tangible solution.
Torsten. Yeah, cause he’s lost it. I wonder if he brings anything else with him.
Antonelle. Like a knife or exact change?
Torsten. A knife would make sense. He may have been mugged before.
Antonelle. Seventy years without being mugged. Is that possible?
Torsten. Anything’s possible within seventy years of life.
End. Light on Numbers

Ruxandra. So, did you do anything today?
Parsa. I did laundry.
Ruxandra. You have machines in your building, don’t you?
Parsa. Yeah, something happened to my laundry today.
Ruxandra. What, did someone steal your clothes?
Parsa. I did leave my drying laundry to be taken from my possession to return some library books, and when I returned, I found all my clothes out of the drier, folded and sorted into four separate piles.
Ruxandra. So, you don’t know who did it?
Parsa. No.
Ruxandra. Did you want to?
Parsa. I don’t know really. I checked the drier that I used and a woman’s clothing were rolling around in the machine.
Ruxandra. Have you fallen in love?
Parsa. Oh, come on.
Ruxandra. Then why did you go look in the drier?
Parsa. Okay, I did want to know if it was a man or a woman.
Ruxandra. Does it matter?
Parsa. It does. I’m more comfortable having a woman fold my clothes than a man.
Ruxandra. You want to meet this woman, don’t you?
Parsa. I’m just curious.
Ruxandra. You already have an image of her in your mind, don’t you? This perfect little woman folding your clothes.
Parsa. It’s better than a perfect little man folding my clothes.
End. Folding Preference

Gia. What’s with your fingers?
Marwan. Oh, yeah. I had to be fingerprinted today for work.
Gia. Really? Can’t sneak into the boss’s closet of toys and cookies anymore?
Marwan. You know, when the guy was fingerprinting me, I couldn’t relax.
Gia. Feel like you did something wrong?
Marwan. I guess I was trying too hard helping him fingerprint me. He kept on telling me to relax and let him do the prints. I couldn’t help rolling my fingers with him. I really had to concentrate to relax.
Gia. Did you actually relax?
Marwan. I ended up concentrating on a screen saver of a three dimensional bouncing ball on the computer next to me, but you’re right. I think on some sort of subconscious level, I did feel like I did something wrong and that they would find out.
Gia. But what did you do wrong?
Marwan. I don’t know, but now they’re going to find out.
End. Printing Tells All

Claudine. Any notes today?
Sertab. Yeah, paper boats and streams.
Claudine. Want to tell me about it?
Sertab. There was this park. I can’t remember driving into a parking lot, but we must have. My parents and their friends would play doubles on courts with cracks that black ants would run in and out of. I remember trees, not like a forest, but more like a roof, making a shaded, hollowed out shelter. I can’t remember being able to hear the stream down old skewed up concrete stairs, but I do remember what the water should sound like wrinkling over and around top dry stones my brother and I would stand on, bending over without getting our shorts wet. I remember silver flecks reflecting from the silt. It must have been rich soil.
Claudine. Did you make paper boats to float down the stream?
Sertab. My dad had newspaper from him. Probably from the car, or maybe he found it lying somewhere and got the idea to make paper boats. The boats were enormous, capable of cracking through rock in its path. I imagined it that way. We made three boats. It would have made sense to make a boat out of a sheet from the coupon section, but I can’t remember if we did. We made our boats and put them into the stream.
Claudine. What happened?
Sertab. They never went straight with the flow of the stream curving them to the side. The water would soak in and undo the tight folds we put into our paper boats. I can’t remember them sinking, but they must have.
End. Paper Boats in the Stream

Ai. There’s my friend in the middle of the row. You can give half to him and I’ll take the rest.
Theater Usher. If you can take this, sir.
Marianthi. Um, okay? I got it. Thank you.
Theater Usher. Enjoy the movie.
Ai. Thanks.
Marianthi. What is all this?
Ai. Two drinks, one for you and one for me, a popcorn to share, gummy bears, snowcaps, and this is a hot dog with chili and cheese. Oh, do you want a pickle?
Marianthi. Yes?
Ai. Napkin?
Marianthi. Thanks. You know, I don’t think I ever remember you getting anything ever at the concession stands whenever we watch a movie.
Ai. Yeah, it’s a rule of mine not to.
Marianthi. But now?
Ai. Do you know why we make rules, Marianthi?
Marianthi. I guess to keep things in order.
Ai. Right. I made this rule of not eating anything when watching a movie because I wanted to experience the entire movie as a pure whole. I want to devote my entire attention towards whatever is presented on the screen in front of me and not have any distractions like eating popcorn and finding a place for the bag when you’re done. You have rules like that, don’t you?
Marianthi. Sure, I don’t go to movies or restaurants alone.
Ai. Have you ever?
Marianthi. I have, and it’s not a pleasant experience. I become extremely paranoid.
Ai. Do you think you could just go to the movies by yourself?
Marianthi. There has to be certain circumstances for me to go to the movies by myself.
Ai. Like what?
Marianthi. Actually, I would go see a Woody Allen movie by myself. No one really goes to see his films anymore, so it’s interesting to laugh with the few people in a theater watching, but I guess in that way I don’t really feel like I’m watching it all by myself. We’re all watching by ourselves in a way. At least, that’s how I think of it.
Ai. What if I left?
Marianthi. What do you mean? Leave now?
Ai. Yeah. What if I just left you with all this food?
Marianthi. Well then, in theory, this would be my worst nightmare come real - Eating a meal and watching a movie alone.
Ai. Would you really eat all this and watch the movie?
Marianthi. Probably not.
Ai. It’s really tempting to leave.
Marianthi. I’d understand if you did.
Ai. You would?
Marianthi. You need to.
Ai. I’m afraid I do.
End. Getting Up
onesamseventeensixteen

Endri. Sometimes I feel like I’m just wasting my time here.
Tzipora. Why? What’s going on?
Endri. I wanted to make pretzels, and the recipe required tepid water of one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit, and the way it was written, it seemed like it was important that the water be one-ten, but how hot is that?
Tzipora. I guess not very hot since it’s supposed to be tepid.
Endri. Right, but I convince myself that I had to heat this water to exactly one hundred and ten degrees.
Tzipora. So what’d you do?
Endri. I went out and got myself a seven-dollar thermometer. It goes from zero to two hundred and twenty degrees. I can now cook meat to a perfect medium with this thing, and you know me with new things. I wanted to try it out on everything. I boiled water and it told me what is was in Fahrenheit, I put it on the windows to see the difference between the surface and the air inside the room, but then I put the thermometer under running hot water and guess what it said?
Tzipora. What?
Endri. I’ll let you know for seven dollars.
End. One Hundred and Ten Equals Seven Dollars

One.
Pashko. I was going through my stuff the other day, and I ran across this.
Libuse. “The Selected Writings of Edgar Allan Poe.” It’s a pretty old copy.
Pashko. Open up the cover.
Libuse. “Klara Deen, 424-7086, R.U., Mr. Berkey.” Previous owner?
Pashko. An English teacher from high school lent me this book to write a paper on Poe. I’ve been borrowing this book for twelve years now.
Libuse. I think it’s beyond borrowing. You’ve stolen from Ms. Klara Deen.
Pashko. I think Klara’s the name of my English teacher’s wife.

Two.
Klara Deen. Honey, I’m trying to find my Edgar Allen Poe book. I can’t find it.
Scoville Kavcic. It’s not in the bookcase?
Klara Deen. Nope. You know? I can’t remember the last time I saw it.
Scoville Kavcic. This was a while ago, but I remember letting one of my students borrow the book once. He was having trouble with a term paper on Poe. I’m trying to remember, but I don’t think he ever returned it.
Klara Deen. I wanted to read my side notes on his poetry. I thought it would help me with this verse I’m working on.
Scoville Kavcic. I wonder if he still has your book. I thought it would have helped him.
Klara Deen. Did it?
Scoville Kavcic. He never finished the paper for me.

Three.
Pashko. I never did finish that paper, and I ended up getting a miserable grade that quarter. I could never show that report card to my parents, so I thought of a place where no one could imagine a report card would be.
Libuse. Where’s that?
Pashko. Rolled up in the guest room’s window shade. It’s funny why I didn’t just think of burning it or throwing it away. Instead, I had to hide it. I kind of wonder if knowing exactly where it is gave me some sort of calm about my grade.
Libuse. But your parent’s found out about it, right?
Pashko. Being a failure to my parents was always tough to confront.
Libuse. When I was young, it was difficult for me to return library books. For some reason they would run overdue, and I would have to pay five cents from my allowance each day it was late. I don’t think I could handle the impact of my saved money leaking nickel by nickel. So I responded to the stress by hiding the book behind the stereo speakers and hoped that such a random place would be enough for the library to forget about the book and the overdue charges. It didn’t dawn on me that simply returning the book would have been the best solution.
Pashko. Yeah, returning this book was really difficult for me to do.
End. Books Kept and Hidden

Guillermo. Are you going to get that?
Asa. Don’t worry about it. It’s no one.
Guillermo. Who is it?
Asa. Never mind. Just try to ignore it.
Guillermo. Do you want me to go and send the guy off?
Asa. No, he’ll just ask more questions. Don’t make it more complicated than it really is.
Guillermo. He’s pretty persistent. How long do you think he’s going to knock on your door?
Asa. I don’t care. Just leave it alone. Please.
Guillermo. Are you sure you don’t want me to do something about it?
Asa. I know you want to, but I really don’t want you to.
Guillermo. Then could you let me know who’s knocking at your door?
Asa. I guess it is difficult to recognize your own knocking.
End. On Both Sides

Kave. I got the job.
Nuala. You did? Finally. How do you feel?
Kave. I don’t know if I’m going to take it or not.
Nuala. What do you mean? You’ve been waiting for them to respond for how long now?
Kave. Five months.
Nuala. What happened?
Kave. I came here because I had an understanding that I had a job here, but all of the sudden I don’t have a job with them. Now they come to me saying that they now have a job for me. Five months.
Nuala. I know.
Kave. I cannot believe they make me wait five months. I hate to admit it, but I’ll probably take the job.
Nuala. What’s wrong with that?
Kave. I’m only taking it because I have no self-respect. Whatever I had disappeared during those five months. I would like to say that I could refuse the job just flat out, but taking this job would make my life easier.
Nuala. Then take it. I don’t see anything wrong in taking it.
Kave. I’m like a kid who’s been refused to be given a toy, but when the toy is given to the kid, the kid refuses it.
Nuala. It’s stubborn pride.
Kave. Of which I have very little.
End. A Five Month Process

Ekram. I passed this guy on a payphone in the subway today.
Enza. Oh?
Ekram. He stopped me and asked me for a quarter. He couldn’t find one in his pockets or his jacket. It looked like he was in a rush.
Enza. Did you give him a quarter?
Ekram. I did, but it made me think. I usually don’t give change to beggars asking for money, but I just gave this guy a quarter just because he had (in my initial mind) a legitimate reason to ask for a quarter. He immediately needed a quarter to continue his conversation. I saw that, so I decided to help.
Enza. Right. Makes sense.
Ekram. But what about beggars in general? They ask for change in order to get a meal, which would be more important than a phone call, but see. What are beggars buying with their change? Is it food? Beer? I really don’t know.
Enza. So it’s easier for you to give a quarter to the guy at the payphone because you know he’s going to use it for the payphone.
Ekram. Right, which makes this guy a genius.
Enza. Why?
Ekram. Cause there was no one on the other side of that telephone call.
End. Dialtone for Quarters

Ulian. See that man?
Bieta. Which one? The one by the bowling alley?
Ulian. He’s there every single day.
Bieta. Maybe he works there.
Ulian. He doesn’t.
Bieta. How do you know that? Have you been following him?
Ulian. I just bowled a couple of frames. He doesn’t work there, but he doesn’t really bowl there either. He’ll come in, get something to eat from the bar, and go to another room.
Bieta. Then he has to work there. I mean, what kind of room does he go into?
Ulian. I don’t know really, but he doesn’t work there.
Bieta. How do you know that?
Ulian. I went up to him and asked him if he could help me with my scoring machine, and he told me that he didn’t work there. I tried going through the door, and it was locked. No sign either. He’s a part of some sort of underground, Bieta. Look, he’s going back into the bowling alley. Do you want to bowl a couple frames?
Bieta. Why do you want to make your life more exciting than it really is?
Ulian. Isn’t it obvious?
End. The Thrill of Bowling

Rabie. Hey, are you okay?
Thoma. You know? I've never been so alienated by music before. It’s very interesting.
Rabie. Why? Don’t you like the music?
Thoma. No, the music's great. Everyone's extremely talented. Everyone's feeding off each other. That's how music should be played, really.
Rabie. Then what's the problem?
Thoma. Each musician was playing to one another. In essence, they were conducting conversations with each other. Even you picked up those drumsticks and start hitting on things. Every participant playing, singing, or dancing was communicating with each other. I just felt like I was not a part of the conversation, so I decided to leave.
Rabie. You could have joined in on us. I mean, I'm no musician. You know that.
Thoma. Yeah, I was feeling a bit musically antisocial.
Rabie. That's okay. Are you sure you don't want to come back in and maybe listen?
Thoma. That music's not supposed to be listened to.
End. Musically Uninvolved

Ilo. What’s that in your hand?
Serafin. Oh yeah. I don’t think I told you this, but I joined a cult without knowing it.
Ilo. A cult, really?
Serafin. At first I thought it was an association that promoted growing organic foods, but some of the tasks we did in our garden had this cultish feel to it.
Ilo. What do you mean?
Serafin. While gardening, there was someone with a hand bell who would occasionally ring it. When he rang it, we were supposed to stop what we were doing and stand still until he rang the bell again.
Ilo. Why?
Serafin. While standing still, we were supposed to meditate on the specific action that we were just doing. Say I was transferring a tomato plant and the bell rang while my trowel was in the soil. I was supposed to stop there and imagine everything about my stillness, the soil touching the metal of the trowel, me bending over, my knees bending into the dirt, the tomato plant roots waiting to be sifted from one place to another. I really didn’t get it. I just wanted to grow plants.
Ilo. Sounds very irregular.
Serafin. Yeah, I like the organic foods and cooking, but everything else is not for me. It’s not worth being a part of it, really.
Ilo. So are you going to leave?
Serafin. That’s the thing. I tried just not going to the garden these last couple of weeks, but people from the garden started to call me, and asked me why I have not been doing my duties, and how disappointed they were of me. I didn’t really need any of it, so I finally told them that I did not want to be a part of their association any longer, but in order for me to be cut off from them, they asked me to write a handwritten, signed letter saying that I have decided to kill myself from the garden. I actually had to write, “I have decided to kill myself from the garden.”
Ilo. Is that the letter in your hand?
Serafin. Yeah, I have to hand it in in person.
Ilo. Did you want me to go with you?
Serafin. Please.
End. Ending the Association

Rakip. Hey, Kadri?
Kadri. What is it?
Rakip. Um, before we go play poker, I think I’ll play some slots.
Kadri. Why do you want to do that?
Rakip. I’m a little nervous.
Kadri. Why slots? Why not roulette, or shoot some craps?
Rakip. I just need to get the edge off me with some mindless gambling.
Kadri. It’s not because we’re right here in the middle of all these slots with their fancy lights and bells ringing for you?
Rakip. What are you trying to say?
Kadri. Haven’t you noticed that in order to get to a poker table we have to go though every other gambling table?
Rakip. Yeah, I wanted to check out the Pai Gow tables. That looked interesting.
Kadri. The casino doesn’t make money when we play poker. They’d rather us lose our money on anything else. That’s why we pass everything else before we get to the tables.
Rakip. But I just want to slip a couple of dollars into the slots. It’s not big deal, right?
Kadri. You’re falling right into what the casino wants you to do.
Rakip. Eh, I won’t be ruined by it, that’s all that matters to me.
Kadri. I’m not going to be surprised if I find you at the Pai Gow tables.
Rakip. You got to take it easy. This place is like an ocean. You just flow with the tide.
Kadri. Do you know what time it is?
Rakip. No, I don’t have a watch. Why?
End. Signs of Trouble

One.
Casino Security. Hold on, what’s that?
Evald. Oh, this machine is connected to my circulation. If I don’t have it with me, my blood will pump backwards, and I’ll die.
Casino Security. I’m not sure I can let you in with that thing.
Evald. Sir, I’m not going to last the year. You’re going to tell me I came all the way here to be refused?
Casino Security. Look, I never saw anything like that machine. How do I know you’re telling me the truth? How do I know it does what you’re telling me it does?
Evald. All I want to do is play a little roulette. Please, let a dying man play some roulette.
Casino Security. Okay, okay, just tell me how the machine works, you know, where the tubes go and what not. Now you say it’s got to do with your circulation?
Evald. Yes, this tube goes into my blood circulation and this one goes out. The machine replenishes the red blood cells with oxygen and nutrients and reincorporates it into my system.
Casino Security. Uh huh, what about this display?
Evald. That gives me my blood statistics, and I can manually enter in commands to control the blood intake.
Casino Security. Seems like a very complicated machine.
Evald. It is. Now that you’ve seen the machine. Please, let this dying man gamble.
Casino Security. Okay, sir. Good luck.

Two.
Roulette Dealer. No more bets.
Winner, twenty-eight black.
Evald. What do you know? My lucky day.
Roulette Dealer. If I didn’t know better, your circulation machine’s helping you win.
Evald. How dare you accuse me? This machine is keeping me alive.
Roulette Dealer. I apologize, sir.
Evald. You make me sick. I’m leaving this table and this casino. I just came here to gamble, and all I get is hassled by you types.

Three.
Fane. Hey, your back. How did the Roulette Key work?
Evald. I won about fifty grand.
Fane. Not too bad for one night.
Evald. I think they’re on to us. This thing’s too big. They’re going to find out what it really does.
Fane. Just don’t go back to the same casino.
Evald. How many casinos are we going to hit?
Fane. Well, there one down, eleven more left. Hopefully, all of them will let you in. You couldn’t win more than fifty grand?
Evald. I was getting nervous, and the man at the table was noticing that I was getting nervous.
Fane. You’re just not used to being so dishonest. It takes some time. Maybe you should play some poker before you play roulette and practice bluffing. Maybe that’ll help you calm you down.
Evald. I think I need to practice getting excited about winning so much money.
Fane. Like this? I can’t believe it! I just won fifty grand! I never won anything in my life! What should I do? What am I going to do? Isn’t life great?
Fane. Why am I out there and not you?
End. The Risk of the Roulette Key

One.
Maksim. Hi there.
Faruk. Hello.
Maksim. Finally made it, huh?
Faruk. Never again.
Maksim. Well, you do have to go back.
Faruk. I’m going to take my time going back. Getting here was absolute hell.
Maksim. How long did it take you to get here?
Faruk. What time is it now?
Maksim. Just before 3:30
Faruk. Well, just about six hours.
Maksim. Jump in the pools?
Faruk. Every chance I got. Looks like you’ve been here for a few days.
Maksim. About a week now.
Faruk. Really? You brought that much food?
Maksim. Not really. I came here with a bunch of my friends, they left three days ago.
Faruk. What do you do about food?
Maksim. Luckily, other hikers come along and volunteer some of their food with me. I pay for it if they let me. I’m no beggar.
Faruk. I’m guessing you would want me to donate something to your cause.
Maksim. Of course I would be willing to pay for it.
Faruk. Well, I can give you a day’s worth and leave here earlier.
Maksim. Much appreciated.
Faruk. So when are you planning to go back?
Maksim. I gather when I run out of food. I’m not looking forward to the return hike up and down those valleys, through the trees and tall grass, that climb up that cliff. I loathed every step.
Faruk. I did too.
Maksim. I’m not going to go back until I’m forced to.
Faruk. Well, I’m going to set up camp. I’ll be back with food.
Maksim. Thanks again. Much appreciated.

Two.
Faruk. Hello?
Maksim. Hi, there. On your way back?
Faruk. Yes, but I was wondering. I could call someone up for you. Tell them you’re all right.
Maksim. Yeah, that’ll be funny. Denes’ll get a phone call from a stranger saying that I’m okay.
Faruk. I can do that if you like. What do you want me to tell Denes?
Maksim. Tell him that I have his wallet and passport. If he’s wants to get them, he has to come get them.
End. Retribution for Hiking

Galius. I can’t help think about the countdown to New Year’s, Arben.
Arben. What about it?
Galius. It’s a countdown, and I think consciously or unconsciously (I can’t tell) I feel like when the time reaches 12:00, something horrible will happen.
Arben. Like what?
Galius. I think it has to do with computer scare when 2000 was near. I can’t shake the notion that the entire world runs on computers, and if they shut down, this world would cease to function. I would not be surprised if an old computer responsible for Earth’s rotation was buried near the center of the Earth.
Arben. A what?
Galius. 2000 would come and the computer at the center of the earth would think it was the year 1000, but then it wouldn’t matter because the computer would continue to control the Earth’s rotation as if it was the year 1000.
Galius. So then there’s nothing to be worried about, right?
Arben. But what if a team of scientists found this computer and realized the year was wrong and decided to correct the problem?
Galius. Then the computer’s year would be correct. No harm, right?
Arben. I’m not sure. What if the computer was programmed to stop the Earth’s rotation in the year 2004?
Galius. Then I guess we would be floating in our cars.
End. The Computer Buried Near the Center of the Earth