E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. Sienko Foundation Storyteller Musings Solotarian Views Lynne Wiora Tek Poker News Blog Some Biscuits Evil Eye Emporium Niggling Doubts Pressure Release Sara as Mommy runswithscissors Defective Yeti Afternoon Delight trancejen The Terrarium Bird Nird Slipperily Tofu Hut Stereo Gum Links Fixed Gear Gallery Get Crafty This is Grand Featherproof Books Gapers Block Chicago Bird Watching	No one must know my terrible secret... House of Noh! Monday, January 31, 2005 You remember how my neighbors across the hall in my apartment building were staging elaborate plays outside their doorway in the hallway for me to watch through my peephole? Well, unfortunately, showings have become more and more infrequent. Sometimes I hear them, inside their apartment, shouting or laughing about something, but even with my ear pressed up against the wall we share I can hardly make out what they’re saying. Lamentably, I’m starting to lose interest in their lives. Don’t think I haven’t asked myself how this all came about. Then I realized. They were sick of coming up with new ideas, practicing their lines, getting into costume, if I wasn’t ever going to reciprocate and put a show on for them. In my defense, I’m still not really used to living in apartment buildings. But what I should have been doing, all along, was to be putting on apartment hall plays of my own that my neighbors could watch through their peephole. So I’ve performed two plays over the last few days. The first one I titled, “Painfully Unaware of How Much Butt-Crack I was Showing.” This one involved me watering my plant in the hallway. I also performed the thriller, “I Just Almost Crapped in My Pants!” It’s no use. My neighbors haven’t resumed their play schedule. I don’t blame them because, I have to admit, my one person plays aren’t as compelling as theirs are, with their multiple characters and dialogue and everything. But at least now I’m CONTRIBUTING TO SOCIETY with my one person plays. Toward that end, I’ve begun drafting two person plays such as the one I’m pasting in here, it includes two characters, a man and woman who are presumably a couple. I Want To Go to Taco Bell an apartment hallway play by Brian Morris (Apartment doorway opens, man walks outside two steps and turns toward woman who exits door then turns to lock it. Both are dressed semi-formally.) Woman: (locking door) Can we stop at Taco Bell? Man: We’re already late, they’ll probably have snacks there. Woman: (having finished locking door, turning toward man) Do you KNOW they’ll have snacks….good ones? Man: Probably. Woman: I can’t take the chance they won’t have good snacks you douche-bag! Man: O.K., let’s go! Woman: Go to Taco Bell? Man: No, we’re too late. Woman: I want a 7 layer burrito you douche bag! Man: (irritated) You know, someday you’re going to call the wrong person a “douche-bag…” Woman: That day’s not today. Douche-bag! Man: …You’ll just disappear one day. Nobody will know what happened to you and it’ll be a big mystery but I‘ll know what happened to you: you will have called the wrong person a douche-bag! Woman: Oh, yeah? Well, I think that you might die TONIGHT, and an autopsy performed on your mangled corpse will confirm the absence of Taco Bell in your stomach and small intestines. Man: I don’t think that even makes any sense. Woman: It makes sense to me you douce-bag. Man: (sternly) Will you PLEASE stop calling my a douce-bag? (Man and Woman exiting peephole view right by walking down stairs together) Woman: (from out of view) I only wish I could stop, douche-bag! Brian 10:52 PM Comments: Post a Comment

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House of Noh!

Monday, January 31, 2005

You remember how my neighbors across the hall in my apartment building were staging elaborate plays outside their doorway in the hallway for me to watch through my peephole? Well, unfortunately, showings have become more and more infrequent. Sometimes I hear them, inside their apartment, shouting or laughing about something, but even with my ear pressed up against the wall we share I can hardly make out what they’re saying. Lamentably, I’m starting to lose interest in their lives. Don’t think I haven’t asked myself how this all came about. Then I realized. They were sick of coming up with new ideas, practicing their lines, getting into costume, if I wasn’t ever going to reciprocate and put a show on for them. In my defense, I’m still not really used to living in apartment buildings. But what I should have been doing, all along, was to be putting on apartment hall plays of my own that my neighbors could watch through their peephole. So I’ve performed two plays over the last few days. The first one I titled, “Painfully Unaware of How Much Butt-Crack I was Showing.” This one involved me watering my plant in the hallway. I also performed the thriller, “I Just Almost Crapped in My Pants!” It’s no use. My neighbors haven’t resumed their play schedule. I don’t blame them because, I have to admit, my one person plays aren’t as compelling as theirs are, with their multiple characters and dialogue and everything. But at least now I’m CONTRIBUTING TO SOCIETY with my one person plays. Toward that end, I’ve begun drafting two person plays such as the one I’m pasting in here, it includes two characters, a man and woman who are presumably a couple.

I Want To Go to Taco Bell

an apartment hallway play by Brian Morris

(Apartment doorway opens, man walks outside two steps and turns toward woman who exits door then turns to lock it. Both are dressed semi-formally.) Woman: (locking door) Can we stop at Taco Bell? Man: We’re already late, they’ll probably have snacks there. Woman: (having finished locking door, turning toward man) Do you KNOW they’ll have snacks….good ones? Man: Probably. Woman: I can’t take the chance they won’t have good snacks you douche-bag! Man: O.K., let’s go! Woman: Go to Taco Bell? Man: No, we’re too late. Woman: I want a 7 layer burrito you douche bag! Man: (irritated) You know, someday you’re going to call the wrong person a “douche-bag…” Woman: That day’s not today. Douche-bag! Man: …You’ll just disappear one day. Nobody will know what happened to you and it’ll be a big mystery but I‘ll know what happened to you: you will have called the wrong person a douche-bag! Woman: Oh, yeah? Well, I think that you might die TONIGHT, and an autopsy performed on your mangled corpse will confirm the absence of Taco Bell in your stomach and small intestines. Man: I don’t think that even makes any sense. Woman: It makes sense to me you douce-bag. Man: (sternly) Will you PLEASE stop calling my a douce-bag? (Man and Woman exiting peephole view right by walking down stairs together) Woman: (from out of view) I only wish I could stop, douche-bag!

Brian 10:52 PM

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House of Noh!

Monday, January 31, 2005