Click here if you missed Part One. Onward to Part Two!

GRAMPS: So you’re just taking your own life?

MAN: I think of it more as writing my ending.

GRAMPS: But, why 30?

MAN: Everyone has a timeline; I’m choosing to have the benefit of knowing when mine ends. Life needs limits.

GRAMPS: But 30?

MAN: Yes, 30. I’ve been a naive child, a stupid teenager, I grew into an adult. I’ve reached the limit, there is nothing new. Nothing worth discovering anyway. I’ve grown tired of searching for new and exciting when I know all I’m waiting for is to explore what hasn’t been explored. I crave newness. Is that so bad?

GRAMPS: No, it’s a good thing, but nothing new? There is always something new and exciting to do, to explore, to experience. It doesn’t matter if someone has already explored it. It would be a new experience for you. And that’s what is important. You can’t tell me that you have traveled everywhere you’ve ever dreamed, gone to every concert, laughed every laugh.

MAN: We have this illusion of variants when all of it's actually the same. The same stories, different words. Same songs, different pitches. Same paintings, different colors.

GRAMPS: Oh, son. The real illusion here is that you think you have control. You think you can control your timeline and your experiences. What you’re missing is that life is chaos, and that’s what makes it worth living.

MAN: I’m not saying life isn’t worth living. I’m just saying life after 30 slowly starts becoming a life that isn’t our own. Our lives are devoted away to families, jobs, friends; furthermore, our bodies deteriorate. Our minds. I don’t want that - to become a burden.

GRAMPS: Are you saying anyone over the age of 30 is a burden on society?

MAN: Most people see an old man or woman crossing the street and don’t think twice. They don’t comprehend that that’s exactly where they are headed, because if they were smart, if they took just a second to think, they’d be just like me - ready to end it. No, of course everyone over 30 isn’t a burden. But, the potential is there. It’s not worth the risk. I don’t want to lose what I have now; my talents, my speech, my memory. I couldn’t live without them.

GRAMPS: None of that happens around 30…

MAN: I know. Which makes it the perfect ending, the peak of my existence.

(BOY rushes on from stage right.)

BOY: I got you now! HA HA! (stomps on ground, catching the bad guy) Any last words?

(BOY winces and clutches his stomach. Looks suddenly off stage left.)

BOY: Mom? Mom! My tummy still hurts.

(BOY exits stage left, groaning.)

GRAMPS: Sir, how old are you? (beat)

MAN: 29.

GRAMPS: And when will you make your “perfect ending?” (beat)

MAN: Soon.

GRAMPS: (sigh) So…

MAN: I came to visit my friend. Not to say my goodbyes. I don’t need your life lessons or mottos or whatever. I know where my life is headed. I know what’s coming. It’s my choice. It’s what I want. There’s nothing sad about it. It’s time. Ok?

GRAMPS: You’re too young.

MAN: That’s how I’ll stay.

GRAMPS: I don’t buy it. You can’t really think offing yourself at thirty will solve whatever issues you have going on.

MAN: I don’t have any issues. I don’t want to have any to die for. I don’t--

GRAMPS: (interrupting, mockingly) Then go ahead and do it! Why wait? You’re a spry, young, attractive man in your prime. Perfect image to leave behind. Now, how are we going to do it?

MAN: Wait, I still have time. And “we”?

GRAMPS: Oh yes, I am along for your “journey into the unknown.” But we have to do it the right way. We could slit your throat with the pure beauty of blood pouring down your torso, dripping onto the floor. The beauty! But cliche. No, no, no. You’re clearly “unique” and “different” and “quirky.” No simple jump off of a cliff for you! Oh, let’s build a guillotine!

MAN: Ok. You’ve clearly lost it. I still have time, old man.

GRAMPS: But what’s the point? You’re just going to grow older and ache...and the wrinkles! Oh god, the wrinkles that could develop. Don’t get me started on hair loss. The sooner the better. We need to expedite this. Your talents and skills will go to waste; withering away like the leaves grow, fade, then die, floating away in the wind waiting to be stepped on and obliterated into nothing.

MAN: I set my timeline, old man. I don’t need you to come along and change that.

GRAMPS: (growing more and more frustrated) Oh, ok. Then let’s cut out all of this poetic bull shit and actually have a conversation. Why do you want to die? (MAN grows more and more upset) What has gone so wrong in your life that you are so scared, so mortified by the idea of living, of actually living, and experiencing pain, and love, and loss, and gain? What is it? (beat) What?

MAN: (stumbling over his words) I… I don’t have anything. I. have. nothing. I’m 29 years old and have nothing to show for myself or anything to do with myself or even the slightest glimpse of a future… at least a future I’d be proud of. (tears up) Up until this point, I had everything laid before me, and I knew what to do, where to be, how to act, how to dress. Craig complicated things, I hate this new job, and I'm in a town I despise. I guess the good always comes with bad… A new puppy followed by a pile of shit.

GRAMPS: That’s more like it.

MAN: (sarcastically) Yeah. Thanks. I feel so much better.

GRAMPS: That’s not what I was trying to do. Boy, and, yes, I’m going to call you boy, you have to understand that a full life is not about the joy and happiness. If that’s all you seek you are going to be hurting for much longer. Life is pain. That pain is a blessing.

(BOY walks on stage left)

BOY: Mom? Where are you, mom? (winces) Mom? (begins to cry) Ow…

(BOY falls to ground, clutching his stomach, continuing to cry.)

BOY: (shrieking) Mom!

(lights fade on BOY. He exits the stage)

MAN: Nothing is ever simple, nothing is ever what I imagine, no one gets the cliche fairytale ending. Life is just a big ball of confusion, hate, and suffering.

GRAMPS: I believe that’s why they call it life and not a fairytale, it’s part of growing up.

MAN: Growing up? More like accepting a dull complacency. (beat) Does it ever get to be what you want?

GRAMPS: I don’t think you’ll like the answer.

MAN: (sarcastically) Lie to me.

GRAMPS: So it may not become what you want. Who cares? It becomes something worth living. It’s worth it. Boy, you need to care less about what other people think and take some time to care more about yourself. That’s when you’ll be happy. That’s when you’ll want to live.

MAN: (reluctant) I feel so alone. Even with Craig. It’s like…

(MAN pulls out his cell phone, looks at it a moment, then puts it back.)

MAN: I have to go. It’s been… (sighs) Goodbye. (MAN begins to exit)

GRAMPS: Just a second. (reaches into his coat pocket and produces a small notepad.) You got a pen on you, boy?

(MAN reaches into his pocket and hands GRAMPS a pen.)

GRAMPS: I want you to call me tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. You understand me?

MAN: (reluctant) I don’t---

GRAMPS: Just take it.

MAN: Goodbye.

GRAMPS: Talk to you later.

(MAN exits. GRAMPS sits in his original seat and leans on his cane. Lights fade. Lights come up on BOY who is unchanged from his previous scene. He lies on the ground clutching his stomach crying in pain. GRAMPS enters from behind him, entering the light. He crouches down next to BOY)

GRAMPS: What’s wrong? What’s going on?

BOY: (almost screaming) My tummy hurts. It’s being hit by a billion hammers.

GRAMPS: Don’t worry, boy. You’ll be ok.

BOY: I want my mommy.

GRAMPS: It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I’ll help you. I’ll help you. (pulls out his cell phone, punches in 911) Hi, I need help. (lights begin to fade) I’m with a young boy and his tummy hurts. He says it feels like hammers are hitting his stomach. Please send help. Please.

BLACKOUT

THE END

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