Lee Stupendous

They are sitting at the table, each having a wine glass that is about half full. She, 30, is youthful but generally displeased with life. He, 29, equally youthful and displeased, seemed more internal than he normally does and She started to become concerned. This is where we begin. 

HE: I'm sure that'll be good. 

He doesn't lookup.

SHE: That my mom's friend has to go back to chemo because the previous round didn't get it all. That is good to you?

H: Oh, yeah no that's not great. Sorry to hear that. 

*pause* 

H (cont.): But I guess it'll be good because she still has cancer so they have to get it, right? 

He looks up to her confused disapproval. 

H: I mean, you know what I mean. 

S: Honestly, I really don't but also honestly, I don't even really like my mom's friend anyway so I don't know why I brought her up in the first place. 

H: Jeez, that's kinda dark. She has cancer, for Christ's sake. 

S: You just said that it was good that she was going back in for chemo. 

They start to chuckle but don't fully let it take them over as they both start to stifle it at the same time. 

He goes back to not really engaging and she sips her wine once and then twice, and then a third time as she finishes it. 

S: Well, looks like I'm all out. Do you need a refill? 

He starts to look up and then doesn't commit fully. 

H: Yeah, that'll be fine. 

Annoyed, she trounces over to the kitchen to find something, anything to drink. Her expression changes when she is no longer in eye-shot of Him. Panic comes over her face and she holds her stomach. She wants to scream but restrains herself, she gives the appearance of screaming but no sound comes out. She starts to compose herself and locates another wine bottle. She quickly grabs the bottle and makes her way swiftly into the other room but hesitates for a moment, seemingly to gather herself, which she does, takes a deep breath, and makes her way. She sets the bottle down harder than she anticipated but in a way, she was hoping that he would look her in the eyes. This was a futile attempt as he was unmoved. She goes to pour more into His glass and then into Hers, she realizes that she left the wine opener in the kitchen. 

H: You are always running around, one thing to the next. 

He scoffs and under his breath mutters. 

H: It's like you're everywhere and nowhere. Exhausting, really. 

She didn't catch the whole sentence but knew it was probably better that way. 

She picks up the wine opener and in an instant, cuts a gash into her hand and the blood starts to form rapidly in the shape of the incision that she made. She starts to scream but once again, no sound makes it out. She begins to make her way to the ground, dropping the wine opener a moment before she herself hits the ground. 

A crash. 

H: What the hell is going on in there? 

He finally picks up his head and swiftly moves toward the kitchen. 

He finds her covered in her own blood and sitting against a cabinet. He notices that she is drawing on the floor in her own blood. She picks up her head and starts to laugh softly. Her laughter grows to a cackle and she reveals that her teeth are too covered in blood. As he starts to back away, she quickly gets up and pushes his face into the cabinet. She gets really close to his face, still smiling from the laughter. 

H: What are you doing? Why are you doing this? 

She laughs again in his face for more than 15 seconds and her laugh starts to channel a hyena as it becomes uncontrollable. 

S: You did this to me. You did this to me. You did this to me. You did this to me. You did this to me. 

She kisses his forehead, leaving her own blood in the shape of her lips. She staggers out the back door, revealing a message written on the floor in blood, "You did this to me". 

He is scared and confused. He decides that he will clean this up tomorrow, locks the back door, and finds his way to the couch. 

3 days pass and his mother comes to check on him because he hasn't answered his phone and he didn't go to work yesterday or today. His mother bangs on the door and eventually, with the help of the police, the door to his house is opened. He is still on the couch where he had been for the last 3 days. He had blood all over his face and body. His hand had a large gash in it that was still dripping blood. The autopsy showed that he had died from blood loss due to a cut from a wine opener. 

tHe EnD !

It opens on the two main characters in the car together, Mike & Tyson. The black duct tape covering part of the driver window is visible on the 1998 Buick LeSabre. The car isn't beat up per se but due to age and surroundings, it looks beaten down. The expired license plate adds to that look. There is smoke rolling out of the passenger window which does roll down (for now). Mike gets out and moves toward the gas pump, we focus on the gas pump as it goes from 0.00 to 11.47. There is loud music coming from the car, indistinct. Sounds more like buzzing than music. The one at the pump finishes up and turns to the one in the car. 

Mike: I'm going to grab a drink, do you want anything? 

Pause, Tyson is "vibing" in the car and wasn't paying attention. 

Tyson notices and looks up. 

Tyson: Wait, what? 

M: I'm going to snag something inside, need anything? 

T: No, I'm good.

Pause. 

T: Actually, do you know those Japanese vodkas? The uh -- Soju. 

M: I got you. 

Mike heads inside and Tyson goes back to his vibing. 

Tyson has the window in the car rolled down and suddenly several people who look the part of homeless approach the car. Tyson looks up to see that there are now 6 people around the car and oddly get into a single file line to meet at the passenger window. Naturally, Tyson rolls up the window and tells them to fuck off. This goes on for a couple of minutes until finally out of sheer curiosity as to why this was exactly happening, Tyson rolls down the window. 

As soon as he rolls the window down, the man that is first in line looks confused and a bit displeased by who he saw. 

Homeless Man 1: Oh shit man, I thought you were Lizard. We were looking to get our fix. 

The man looks back to his posse still in single file, "It ain't him. We got the wrong beat-up Buick." 

He looks back at Tyson who is starting to realize what is going on. 

HM1: Sorry about that G, keep on and you should fix that window, it looks like shit. 

Tyson rolls the window up and posse disperses. Mike is walking out of the gas station, Soju in hand, and sees the end of the interaction. 

Mike's eyes get wide and he approaches the car a bit slower than he otherwise might have but finally gets in the car after confirming that Tyson hadn't been mugged. 

M: Bro, what the fu----

T: You are never going to believe what just happened. 

Tyson starts laughing so hard and almost can't get out the sentence.

T: They wanted to buy drugs, like a car side service and apparently you have the same "beat up" Buick as they put it as Lizard, their guy.

There is a slight pause then a roar of laughter from both of them. 

Mike keeps repeating, "Beat up". 

M: He really said, "beat up". 

T: I think he said it a few times. 

They can hardly contain their laughter.

She is driving on the highway home. Things haven't been the best lately, lows and more lows. Slight pain in her back starts to form, it is dull. She thinks about how driving bothers her these days, she thought about that for a while until she couldn't anymore. Her body starts to get hot and then cold and her vision starts to blur. She couldn't believe this was happening as the car slows to a stop, darkness ensues. 

She had been sleeping a lot recently and weirdly, on her hands which she would often wake up to them numb with the needles that are often followed with a shaking of the hands, tingling ends, and then back to sleeping on them. It was almost as if her hands were holding her, giving her some human comfort. 

She thinks about eating and how much she doesn't want to do it. She's been shaking more recently, which starts to feel more like part of her as the days go on.

She'll face the world another day if this one ever ends. 

In a sea of feelings and yet, no feelings are felt. 

In theory, I have a lot of energy. 

In reality, I have no energy. 

Trying to fill the void but I am the void. 

Talking to the walls but they won't talk back. 

Putting it together while tearing at the seams. 

Take off to another world but not the one you thought. 

In truth, I am just out of space.