Theater Dimly Lit Prison Kitchen. It Is

Theater Dimly lit prison kitchen. It is after hours, and only a skeleton crew is on hand: RAY and ANGELA. They are inside the kitchen, but the spotlight is on TOM and GARY, who sit across from each other in the dining room just outside. Characters TOM: Inmate at Phoenix Prison Complex, serving a life sentence for murder. GARY: Inmate at Phoenix Prison Complex, serving 15 years for assault and battery. ANGELA: Kitchen worker, 30-year-old female RAY: Corrections officer, 28-year-old male Scene 1: Pizza Night TOM: Tonight's the night.

GARY: Tonight? TOM: Tonight. You remember what we talked about, right? GARY: Right. TOM: What do you mean, "right"? Well? What did I tell you? GARY: We wait until 2AM. TOM: Well what time is it, genius? GARY (looking at a watch that doesn't exist, as his wrists are bare): I don't know. TOM (exasperated): What time do you get off work? GARY: What time did I get off work? Uh, today's Friday, right? TOM: No, it's Saturday.

(shouting) WHO CARES WHAT DAY OF THE WEEK IT IS? GARY: Because sometimes I work until midnight and sometimes until TOM: Gary, Gary, Gary, are you nervous? Are you going to fuck this up for us? Don't fuck this up, Gary! Don't screw me over Gary! Because if you screw me over GARY: I ain't screwin' no one over, Tom. I just lost track of the time, I did. I don't know what day of the week it is.

Oh wait! TOM (looking around, thinking Gary saw someone or something): What? What is it? GARY: We had pizza for dinner. TOM: So? So what! What does that have to do with anything, you idiot? GARY: Friday is pizza night. It's Friday. TOM: No it ain't, it's Saturday. We don't always have pizza on Friday. I went to class today.

I never go to class on Friday because I'm working the license plate factory on GARY: What is it? What is it, Tom? TOM: I don't know what day it is either, you know. GARY: You sure tonight's the night? TOM: Sure, why not? We've got to do it sometime, right? GARY: Got to. (Pause in conversation as the spotlight dims on TOM and GARY, and a soft light illuminates the face of ANGELA, the kitchen worker and REYNOLD, the night guard.

Reynold pats Angela on the behind) ANGELA: NO! Ray, leave me alone! Not here, not at work! REYNOLD: What's wrong Angie? I thought you liked doing it in public places. ANGELA; Ray, I said not here. You call this a public place? How can you get horny in a place like this anyway? You're some sicko. Sometimes I think maybe you're the one who needs to be on the inside for a change. RAY: Shut up, you know I don't like you joking about that shit. ANGELA: Sorry, Ray.

But please leave me alone! I have work to do. I don't want to get fired 'cause of you. My brother would kill me -- it took him three weeks and who knows how many dicks he had to suck to get me on the staff. You know how hard it is out there, Ray? How long you been working here, huh? RAY: Let's see…four years? I lost count. ANGELA: See, you haven't had to find work in four years. I was out of work for a year, Ray.

A whole year! I was on food stamps, Ray. Food stamps! You know what that feels like? Do you? RAY: No. ANGELA: It feels worse than this, if you can imagine that, Ray. Worse than this. (Lighting switches again to show Tom and Gary) TOM: You think that bitch in the kitchen's hot, dontcha? GARY: Who me? TOM: Yes, you. Who do you think I'm talking about? Micky fucking Mouse? GARY: Angela, yeah, she's hot. That's her in the kitchen now TOM: I know, you idiot.

I'm going to get her for you. GARY: Huh? TOM: This is going down tonight, Gar, and you're getting a little surprise for dessert. Only I hope you don't mind sloppy seconds (ANGELA bangs some pots and pans as she finishes cleaning up all the dirty dishes. She heads to the corner to get the mop when…The stage lights illuminate. TOM has ANGELA by the throat with a shank, holding her hostage.).