BEN
I didn’t mean to cut myself that deep. Probably be all gimpy now. Crackers were good though. And the apple juice—I wish I had a whole bottle ‘a that.
(Walks around, testing out his leg and wincing periodically:)
If I ever do that again, no way I’m usin’ a rock. I shoulda’ used my knife. I would’ve, only I thought it might look too neat.
(Looks at his jeans:)
Damn.
(To an imaginary person:)
Hey, you got seventy-five cents so I can wash my pants?
(The person walks by him:)
Enjoy your purchase!
(Pause as he shrugs it off:)
It’s weird seein’ all the Harvard people. Tower Records bags, all the stuff they get with their Coop cards.
Walkin’ like they’re God. Not seein’ you at all. Assholes. I wish I had some more a’ those crackers.
(Beat.)
I wonder if my Mom’s a good cook. I bet she is. She’ll probably make me a ten course dinner. Hamburgers and chicken and spaghetti with two different sauces and bread and butter and a salad ’cause she’ll want me to eat healthy, and maybe an apple. And lots of dessert.
She’s pretty rich, so if she wanted, she could make it a hundred courses, but ten’s about my limit, far as I what I can eat without pukin’. I’d eat more if she wanted me to. I don’t mind pukin’ if she wanted me to eat more.
(Beat.)
She’s some kinda’ architect, or a designer. I bet she wins lots of awards for the buildings or whatever she designs.
(Beat.)
What if she doesn’t remember me, or she doesn’t care? Or maybe she just wouldn’t know what to say?