lion.mouth

(Something I'm working on. Read on, but don't worry about it. But tell me what you think. If you want. NBD.)

...

MAN
We expect that each year will have at least one climax. One shuddering start and one—one--end.

WOMAN
CRACK!

MAN
That each year is a doorway. No one minds 364 days of tugging, of fumbling with a greasy knob, if one day it swings open and lets you through.

WOMAN
CRACK! We used to wake to days shutting behind us like that. A sequence anda, anda sound.

MAN
Are you finished?

WOMAN
You tell me.

MAN
It feels pretty good.

WOMAN
Maybe you should look at it.

MAN
He ruffles his own hair, relaxes in his chair and eyes a bowl of pasta on the table. He is certain the haircut is done.

WOMAN
Go look in the mirror, I barely cut any—

MAN
There’s that guy again. You should say hello.

WOMAN
She looks out the window to the street below. She keeps a hand on his shoulder while the other dangles scissors over his ear.  It’s enough to keep him in his chair.

MAN
I’ll introduce you two. He jumps suddenly at the window. The scissors fly out of her hand, just as he starts to yell

WOMAN
Hey! Hello!

MAN
An open blade sticks his foot. Shit! Oh, shit!

WOMAN
Shit, I’m sorry. Oh my god. She dives toward the blood. She grasps at the blood. She tries to pick up the blood like pieces of tinsel.

MAN
A paper towel!

WOMAN
Okay okay okay.

MAN
He hobbles to the table and sits in a different chair. He is too angry to care about the pain, which is fading now anyway. He is too hungry to be angry.

WOMAN
Oh, babe, wait til I clean you up.

MAN
He forks the mac and cheese into his mouth. Chunks of garlic roasted soft as marshmallow. It’s a special meal.

WOMAN
Fine, eat, just keep this under your foot. Fuck, I’m sorry, no more haircuts.

MAN
Is it the little red pond forming under his chair, the littlest glacier melting? Or the thick polish of cheese? He feels like a conqueror.

WOMAN
It’s just you’re always saying we can’t take care of ourselves.  That’s what you think.

MAN
This is the best he’s felt all month.

WOMAN
Just you won’t take time.

MAN
He carries his bowl to the window, chewing.

WOMAN
She feels graceful, following spots of blood, like someone who isn’t watched.

MAN
Hey! He laughs. His forehead plunges through the open window. Returns. Plunges. Returns. I didn’t mean to leave so abruptly.

WOMAN
She sweeps hair clippings into a pile.  What’s his name?

MAN
He’s ignoring me now.

WOMAN
You know, I just realized—well, a few days ago. She sits in the chair he sat in to have his hair cut. It’s ridiculous to think anyone is comparing you to someone else. I mean, no one really does that. No one actually thinks about other people that way. Its just so proportional, like feet and forearms. And it doesn’t make sense. No one cares.

MAN
He looks at her nervously. You don’t compare people?

WOMAN
She thinks, He might be a bad person