(background noise of static and REM’s “End of the World” song fading in and out)
RADIO ANNOUNCER: That’s right, because it looks like indeed it is the end of the world, as we know it, and that’s…just… what’s going on. I mean, have you looked out
your window yet? That’s a lot of rain, folks, a lot of rain. And that sky? Man, I didn’t think the sky could be dark green and black in the middle of the day! That’s
right, it’s around 12:15 pm and there is chaos in the weather around us. From what I’ve been hearing, streets have randomly fallen into erupting sinkholes causing power lines to topple and
buildings to crumble and…well…general anarchy and chaos. So why am I still here playing your greatest hits? Especially overly ironic 90s tunes, of all things? Well, maybe at heart I’m a bit of an
optimist. Maybe somewhere, someone is listening to this completely erroneous broadcast and is taking comfort in the fact that at least some semblance of normalcy still remains. It’s sure as shit
not still there for me…once that stupid volcano erupted in following with that stupid prophecy from the damn Mayans, my wife just left. Immediately started packing her bags and I was like “Honey,
where are you going? If it’s the end of the whole entire world, there wouldn’t be any safe place for you to go… I mean… why are you packing, what are you doing?!” And she immediately replies
without hesitation, “I’ve been having an affair with Richard from the 5th floor for the past 2 years now and if the world will end then I want him to be the last person I sleep with. I’m sorry
Steve, it’s over. You’re a lousy lover.” And then she just left. That’s it. I’m sorry, Steve, you’re a lousy lover?! I mean, come on?! Who says that? Who just says something like that to someone… I
don’t know. This whole end of the world business is just too much for me… maybe I’ll just end it here and now. Please, enjoy some of these oldies but goodies while I go hang myself…
(static pops and crackles and we can hear the faint sounds of pearl jam or something- really I don’t care what song the director chooses here. It can be deep and meaningful and symbolic of
the end of the world or whatever, or it can just be a random song they danced to at their Junior High dance. Makes no difference to me.)
(We see JESS, BRAD, and MARK sitting in a living room type area. They’ve been listening to the radio broadcast. The sounds of thunder and rain continue on throughout the play, and there are
flickers of greenish lightning in the background. The three sit on chairs or couches or the floor, drinking beer, eating pizza)
JESS: Well… that was a cheery update.
BRAD: I mean…it is the end of the world. Not the best time to tell anyone…well… anything, really.
JESS: I guess… I think she could’ve just left, though. She didn’t have to throw in the ‘lousy lover’ part.
MARK: I thought it was funny…
JESS: Well you’re fucked up.
BRAD: He does make a good point, though. It’s the end of the world. The motherfucking apocalypse. Which means that none of us will ever have sex again. Ever.
MARK: Damn. You’re right.
BRAD: I know! That sucks…
JESS: Wait...are you defending him...or her?
BRAD: Well... her...I guess.
JESS: But...she’s such a bitch! She uses the ‘end of the world’ as an excuse to tell her husband she’s been cheating on him!
BRAD: Yes...but if she’s only going to have sex one more time before it’s all over, it might as well be with someone who is not, quote un-quote, a “lousy lover”. So
yeah, I’m kinda on her side.
MARK: Besides, now radio guy is free to fuck whoever he wants before the world ends, so maybe she did him a favor.
JESS: But what if the last person he wanted to fuck was, oh I don’t know, his own wife, maybe?
BOTH MARK & BRAD: Pshhh (general guffaw-ing)
MARK: No dude wants to bone his own wife.
BRAD: Especially if it’s the end of the world.
MARK: Right, see it’s all about wanting what you can’t have.
JESS: Well obviously he couldn’t actually have her in this case because she was with someone else. Does that make the whole wife-thing technically irrelevant?
(BRAD & MARK are silent)
MARK: (after a beat) You’re a woman. You don’t know anything.
JESS: A woman joke. Nice. I like that you’re playing it safe.
BRAD: Dude, I wonder if his wife is hot. Radio guys are always pasty fat pricks, but their wives are somehow always smokin hot. I’d probably get in line to bang her if it was gonna be my last
bang on earth.
MARK: Oh, oh this is a fun game. Last day on earth, the only girls left are Adele, a post-maternity Angelina Jolie, and a 15 year old Dakota Fanning. Who would you do?
JESS: (more to herself) Gross...
MARK: I know, tough choices, but not the worst ever. Come on, you can do this.
BRAD: Dude, okay. So even though she’s had a baby, Angelina is still pretty hot. Plus I wouldn’t mind going where the last guy there was Brad Pitt. That guy is pretty enough that if I had to
do him to get to her, I would.
JESS: That’s good to know...
MARK: Really, dude? See, I’d go with Adele, I think. I mean, she’s curvy, but her moaning would probably be so melodious... making love with her would be like making sweet, sweet music...plus
her tits are huge.
JESS: She’s pregnant now, FYI.
MARK: Oh, well then fuck that, I’d take Dakota Fanning.
JESS: Ew! But you said she was only 15!!
MARK: It’s the end of the world, Jess. There is no such thing as statutory now.
JESS: You’re awful. Both of you. Just...awful.
BRAD: Hey. No. We’re guys. And guys want sex. And I want sex. But with who? The world is ending and we don’t know who’s left. So we’re fucked. But not literally. Which sucks.
MARK: Oh hey, what about that neighbor’s hot girlfriend...maybe we could get in line to tap that. I’ll bet she’s looking for apocalypse nookie too.
JESS: But she’s dating the guy next door...
MARK: Again, Jess, it’s the end of the world. There are no distinctions anymore. Pussy is pussy, I don’t care who it technically ‘belonged’ to before the storm. Plus, I don’t believe in
labels, you know that.
BRAD: Aw dude, nice. Yeah I’d get in line for her too. Have you seen her ass in those legging-things she wears? It’s like...damn... I would eat pancakes off that ass.
JESS: They’re called jeggings, by the way.
JESS: They’re leggings that look like jeans...they’re called jeggings.
BRAD: Who the fuck cares what they’re called?! Rip ‘em off and let me put my dick inside her!
MARK: Ha! Maybe she’d even do DP.
JESS: Oh my g-d you guys are terrible! This is seriously all you guys can talk about right now? It’s the end of the world and you’re more concerned about your dicks than you are the fate of
BRAD: Hey, our dicks are the fate of humanity! Who knows what future president or war hero lurks in the depths of my…semen…cavities…
JESS: I’m 100% willing to bet none.
MARK: You don’t know that for sure, Jess. Brad’s semen can be very persuasive like a politician.
JESS: Oh yeah, you would know wouldn’t you? No wonder you ass clowns share a bathroom.
BRAD: Yeah. Cause Mark eats my semen all the time.
MARK: Cause it’s got proteins in it! Did you know if you drink about a gallon of semen you’ll get your protein intake for the day...
JESS: No, I did not know that.
BRAD: See, Jess. Yet another reason to swallow.
JESS: I’m pretty sure to get my protein for the day there are easier ways than swallowing a gallon of semen. I’ll have some salmon.
MARK: Yeah but the semen would be way more fun for more people. If you eat salmon, you’re killing a fish. If you swallow a gallon of semen...well...that’s like...a hundred blowjobs. Which is
a hundred happier men.
JESS: Who are still all going to die.
MARK: Yeah but at least they’ll die happy!
JESS: So you’re saying I should get gang banged by one hundred men for the greater good?
MARK: Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. But you can start small and work your way up.
BRAD: (laughing) Dude, yes! Start with needle dicks and work up to chodes. We will coach you. We believe in you.
JESS: This is not the blow-job olympics.
MARK: Oh my g-d it should be!
BRAD: We could have so many different events...
JESS: No, there would only be three- the basics: handjob, blowjob, penetration.
BRAD: Dude...no way...
MARK: No, wait, yeah she’s right on this one... it’s just the penetration event will have the most variety...like the gymnastic floor routines. A few basic moves with varying
JESS: So it’s like a porn-triathlon?
MARK: No, Jess, obviously it would be a tri-fuck-lon. Duh.
BRAD: Or a triple-sex-marathon...thing...
MARK: Yeah, don’t be so stupid.
JESS: Oh whatever this will never happen so what do I care. Are there really that many different ways to give a handjob?
BRAD: It’s all about technique, man.
MARK: Yeah, plus there’s varying tempos, rhythms, and positions. And hands.
JESS: (sarcastically) Wow, I didn’t realize tugging on your dick could be so complex.
MARK: Not ‘complex’. Cock-plex.
BRAD: That’s because you don’t have a dick. Which is why you are inferior as a human in general.
JESS: (epic sarcasm here) Oh, right. Women are inferior to men. Which is why sex with us isn’t nearly as fun as masturbating by yourself. Alone. In the shower. With your dick in your own
hand. Because having a hot female do that for you is just...no fun...at all.
BRAD: Shut up. You’re... dumb.
JESS: This is a stupid conversation.
MARK: This is a brilliant conversation that would win awards if anyone else was around to hear it.
JESS: No. It’s not brilliant, it’s retarded... don’t you think we should be talking about something more...substantial?
MARK: More substantial than sex? Sex is substance, Jess. Learn it. Live it. Preach.
JESS: Seriously, guys, this is one of the last- if not the last- conversations we will ever have! It may even be one of the last real conversations to ever be had by
all of humanity- cause we don’t know if anyone else is alive out there- so this might be the last proof of intelligent life this planet will ever see, and we’re spending it talking about the
MARK: Oh, I like that.... dick-lympics...
BRAD: Yeah, that’s a good one...
MARK: Can there be an event for beer pong in this as well?
BRAD: Yeah, that we play with our dicks!
MARK: The baton in the relay can be a giant dildo! Or a vibrator to make it even more challenging...
JESS: Alright fine, I give up. You win. Last conversation on Earth: fuck-city.
BRAD: No, Jess, fuck-lympics.
MARK: No, no, dude it was dick-lympics.
BRAD: Oh, that’s right, it was. (laughing) That was clever, Jess. For a woman.
JESS: Fuck everything. Is there any beer left?
BRAD: Yep. And rum.
JESS: Hand it to me.
BRAD: Hell Yeah! No fucks.
(The three proceed to take swigs of hard alcohol and music fades up...use lighting through the windows to show the progression of time- from early afternoon (even though it’s dark) to much
later at night. The roommates become increasingly intoxicated and as they do, the storm gets worse)
MARK: (quietly, more to himself than the others) I never asked out Kristi…
JESS & BRAD: What? (Huh?)
MARK: (turns to look at them) Kristi…I’ve had a crush on her since… well… forever. And I never asked her out…I should have-
JESS: Wait, why are you bringing this up now in the midst of a perfectly raunchy conversation about the penis-job olympics or whatever...
MARK: Because I was just thinking about who I most want to touch my penis at this moment and I realized it’s Kristi.
BRAD: Dude, I’m sorry. Maybe you can call her...
MARK: Nah, dude there’s no reception in this storm. Cell phones are useless pieces of plastic now. There’s no way I’ll ever reach her again. I just...wish I would’ve told her...
BRAD: Yeah, man when I first heard about this storm even being a thing, I should’ve just driven to North Carolina to see that Amber girl. Have one last night with her. She’s so fuckin cute.
I’ll never see another facebook pic of her again...
JESS: No, no, fucking NO. We are NOT doing this.
MARK & BRAD: Not doing what?
JESS: We are NOT playing the “I never did this” or “I never did that” game. Fucking No. It’s the end of the world, sure, but come on. We’re still us. We’re still friends. Why dwell on all the
shit we never did? Or all the stupid meaningless memories for that matter? Why dwell on anything?! Let’s dwell on nothing, get fucked up, and wait to…just… um……
MARK: Cease to exist?
BRAD: That does not sound fun.
MARK: Nothing about the world ending sounds fun.
JESS: Jesus, guys, is that really all you can talk about?
BRAD: Yes, Jess. When all of the entire world of forever and always is randomly just ending all around you, it’s a little hard to focus on anything else.
JESS: Well I say we focus on just hanging out. Like we do.
BRAD: Alright, fine. Let’s just…hang out.
This is us. hanging out.
How much fun are we having…just… hanging-
JESS: Okay, shut up, I get it.
MARK: What was it all for?
BRAD: What was what all for?
MARK: All of it. I mean, everything we had, everything we had worked for.
BRAD: You mean, ‘we’ as in the three of us specifically or ‘we’ as in all of humanity?
MARK: I mean from the very beginning of time! We evolved as a species, and for what? Just to get decimated some couple million years later by something beyond our control? There’s no escaping
this. We didn’t evolve fast enough.
JESS: Well, maybe we weren’t supposed to.
MARK: What? We weren’t supposed to evolve at all?
JESS: No, I mean maybe we were never supposed to have survived in the first place, evolution or not… Maybe it was always gonna end this way, no matter what.
BRAD: Well that sucks.
JESS: It does suck, yeah.
MARK: Okay, guys, I think we can all agree that everything about the end of the world pretty much sucks.
JESS: Sorry, it’s just hard to… you know… it just… sucks.
MARK: Yeah we know it sucks but someone wanted us to try and talk about something else.
JESS: Yes, but I mean something else-else other than the beginning or ending of all of humanity. Like, something smaller. I bought whipping cream the other day. We
could make white chocolate mousse...
MARK: And what would we do with that mousse once its made?
JESS: …we’d eat it.
MARK: But what’s the point!
JESS: The point is that it’s something to do other than sit here and contemplate our impending doom! The point is that it’s something fun we used to do when things weren’t so…final. The point
is that… that…
BRAD: We’re fucking hungry!
JESS: Yes, right. That.
MARK: But we’re eating pizza. And drinking beer. Mousse doesn’t go with pizza and beer.
JESS: How would you know? Have you ever tried it before?
BRAD: Yeah, Mark, it might be fucking delicious.
MARK: Or it might be terrible.
BRAD: Well you can have yours separately and we’ll combine ours and it’ll be fine for everyone.
MARK: Whatever, dude, I’m not even hungry. I’m not even anything right now. I’m just…numb.
(they all sit in silence, listening to the crackling of the radio and the raging storm outside)
JESS: You know… there are some upsides.
BRAD: To the destruction of all mankind?
JESS: Yeah. Totally.
MARK: Like what?
JESS: Well… no more commercials. That’s cool, right?
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