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| Tim
Jeffrey has written numerous plays, some of them performed on the radio,
and others on stage. He has just re-done a radio comedy, PARKING
AT BELL CREEK, as a musical comedy with composer Craig
Furkas. Here are a couple of songs in process for the musical, which we welcome you to try and perhaps get back to us on your thoughts. It will be obvious the singers are not on board yet, so try to listen only to the musical lines. Thanks. "Confessions" "Jump Me" Excerpt from "Parking at Bell Creek" JUDE Being the father of a teenage girl is like being in the infantry without a gun or a compass. I was born Catholic, attention deficit, and peculiar, all related. My wife says to add that I not only don’t understand women, I don’t like them. ELAINE buzzes in behind him, mumbling and knocking things around. JUDE I concur. They make too many excuses for their petty cruelties and reactive inanities. You don’t get a pass with me. This will all become clear as we go, unless of course one of us falls asleep or I forget that I promised, in which case we arrive somewhere else. Life is not a journey; it’s a reality show, not that those nitwits are actually -- ELAINE You’re off the subject again. JUDE There was a subject? ELAINE She sulks around here like everyone should drop what they’re doing and jump to please her. JUDE Wonder where she got that idea? ELAINE That’s it? Cryptic? That’s as constructive as you can be? JUDE Be like any other mother and antagonize her passive aggressively till she develops eating pathologies. ELAINE You think you’re funny? JUDE (off her glare) If by “funny” you mean “uproariously entertaining.” (okay, better give up) Come on Elaine. You love your daughter. ELAINE When she’s married off with kids I’ll like her. JUDE She’s thirteen, Elaine. Think of yourself then: you weren’t hyper-sexual, brainless and insipid at that age were you? ELAINE Oh my God. That’s what you think of your daughter? JUDE You don’t even like her! Look, she grates on your nerves because you’re so much alike. It’s a mother daughter thing. ELAINE You’re saying I’m a whiny, defiant, self-pitying, life-sucking narcissistic flake? JUDE (He freezes her; to us) Of course that’s what I said. You can see where this is going, can you not? I’ll inevitably be nominated as the perpetrator. What she’s actually saying is... (activates her) ELAINE When I pretend we’re deciding something together based on something I know but you haven’t been privy to can you just absorb my contempt for not knowing how I feel? JUDE (glibly, to us; “freezing” her) Why of course I can dear...Which is somehow beside the point. Mental survival is the point. Remember, if you want isolation and protection, you must use their merciless illogic against them by speaking the language of emotions, my friends. (to his wife, who is “activated” again) I’m hurt that you would think that of me. (playing to us for approval) ELAINE Do you remember what we did on our eighth date? JUDE Of course, I was wearing a madras shirt and a canny leer. You had flowers in your air. Squadrons flew overhead. We had malted duck for breakfast and I mad a joke in bad taste. ELAINE In other words, no. JUDE What, was I supposed to keep a scrapbook of each -- ELAINE Forget it. I was trying to discuss the fact that we had sex. JUDE First date. ELAINE So not a scrapbook, just notes on fictional heroics. JUDE I’m romantic. ELAINE If by “romantic” you mean “deluded.” JUDE She had a bullet proof hymen/her castle keep to secure/I could have gained entrance/if I had been mature/now we take turns on the toilet/while we discuss the bills/No longer firing torches at her gates/sometimes I lack the will. ELAINE That’s not my fault your daughter’s got/ me talking to myself/If you want to criticize me/why not take some cuts yourself? JUDE Nothing to it, I’ll be glad to do it/ show you how it’s done. ELAINE (song over) Good, then you’ll lend her your inspirational take on teenage love and sex? I really appreciate your getting involved. (exiting) JUDE (Condition Red!) Where did that...? Who said that was the subject? (to us) Did you hear...? (beat)You’re probably wondering why I called this meeting. Tonight’s subject is Female Spousal Dystopia. ELAINE (OFF) You’re talking to yourself again? JUDE Can you count the ways you love me? ELAINE (OFF) Can you stop spitting in the wastebasket? JUDE I have a medical condition! Where’s the love? (to us) Let me introduce myself. The name is Jude, I come from Detroit, I wear a leather, and I’m tough as hell. (Waits. Unsatisfied.) Yeah, never worked when I was a kid, either. My name brought scores of ass whippings. The Beatle song only added to my misery. HANNAH has entered and sits on the other end of the “couch” from Dad. HANNAH We don’t have anyone like the Beatles. JUDE Or romance. (Oops. Shut her off already.) Not that we, you know... HANNAH What were they like? JUDE The Beatles were like us, kids having fun making things up, love songs, ditties, rumors, rude comments to the press, challenging phonies. It was the first time these remote stars spoke directly to their audience. They made fun of their own fame, thought it was crap. We liked that. We opposed crap. HANNAH That’s what I do. JUDE Don’t like crap. HANNAH No. Elaine peeks in, secretly telegraphing her disappointment at him like Xrays. JUDE Crap can be...not so hot. HANNAH Everybody is so dishonest. JUDE Yeah, well... (seeing Elaine) Not entirely honey. HANNAH They’ll lie right to your face. JUDE Your mom and I don’t lie to you. HANNAH Yeah, mom tries to control everything I do. JUDE Well, that’s her... (off Elaine’s glower) ...and me, of course. She just wants what’s best for you. HANNAH Why can’t I do what I want then without her always -- JUDE Who..what, I mean not who, What...are you doing? That’s it: Elaine leaves. HANNAH Were you popular at my age? JUDE (to HANNAH) Popular? A lot of people, ah...knew me, let’s say... (to us) I won’t tell her but the joke was to construe my name as “Jew,” which cost me Biblical floggings, a sacramental laying on of hands by good Christians in personalized pogroms. They said it was purifying. Gangs call it “beating in” rituals; they thought of it as a conversion. (to HANNAH) Hannah, sweetie, “popular” isn’t all... HANNAH Yeah, I know, all it’s cracked up to be. JUDE No. It is important at your age, sweetie, I know that. (to us) It all goes away when you become secure, sane, well-adjusted drug-addicted, furiously unhappy sexless twerps with short (catching himself) ...well, memories. (to HANNAH) Is it boys? HANNAH (petulant) No. JUDE (secretly to us) Thank God. HANNAH It’s one. JUDE (rocked, restraining himself) Really. HANNAH He’s not the problem. We get along really well. JUDE Why? You talk...what...you have things in common? HANNAH Same thing as you and mom; you have a lot in common, right? JUDE Why, of course. We’re...on the same page. (to us) Of very different books. (back to top) |
