"Why I Didn't Have Time To Write My One Man Show"
By: Wendy Corene King



[Curtain opens on CAROLINE sitting on a tire, or something of that sort, with a guitar. She is playing "Forward" over the first lines]

I would like to tell you all a story about a man named Fowler, who was born in South Orange, New Jersey, 1959. When he was three, his family moved to LA. When he was 9, he was sent to a military academy for burning down his sister's treehouse. Shortly thereafter, he got into a fight with another student. He got kicked out for throwing a tire at him. He then graduated from Chatsworth High School as Co-Valedictorian. He attended a small college in New York called Julliard. It was then that he changed his name to Spacey. This is the story that I would like to tell you about. But I'm not. I shall tell you the story of "Why I Didn't Have Time To Write My One Man Show" by Wendy Corene King.

[Puts guitar aside]

OK. So my life is weird. Growing up, my best friend was a lawn gnome that worked at Spatula City. But, he left me for the pink flamingo from the Spam factory. But, I guess that's just how some people are. I'm Caroline. When I was younger, my mom always thought I would be somebody. So did I. I guess we should have been more specific.

So, I suppose I'll just start from the beginning. My mon was just 14 when she had her first child. I was her fourth and her last. I was her baby. My father died when I was just two months old from slipping on a bananna peel. His tombstone reads: "Here lies Joe Mercer. Death by fruit." So, Mom took that pretty horribly and has been deathly afraid of banannas ever since. No pun intended. My sister and my brother are much older than me. When I was born, one was graduating med school, and the other had just been promoted to cell block leader at the Reidsville State Penitentary. My other sibling decided she didn't want to live and comitted suicide when she was just 5 months old. She poisoned herself by mixing her formula with a little bit of Aunt Pimbleton's rum cake. It had the same effect on her as Pepsi and Pop Rocks would. Quite disgusting, well, so I've heard.

And that's pretty much the family that I try to avoid. The only one I usually claim im public is my stepfather. I let everyone believe he's my biological father to prove that I did inherit at least some sanity. His name is Roger. We call him Verbal because he used to talk a lot, but he's decided to take a vow of silence recently. So, him and I get along OK. To make things even more wonderful, when I was 5, they decided to hire me a psychotic babysitter. Her name was Blanche. She always carried a little vial around with her and threatened me with it by saying there was enough poison in it to kill everyone in Antartica. So, one day, I was curious to see if she was telling the truth, so I dumped all of it in her soda. Well, about 5 minutes later, I came back and saw that Blanche had decided to spontaneously combust. But, she did leave some nice shoes that I always liked, so, I kept them.

After this little incident, my parents decided it was time for a scenery change, so we packed up all of our stuff and decided to move to Greenwich Village. A place where wierd things don't happen. So, here I am. A young girl living in NY with an odd mother and a mute father. Nothing too eventful happened after that. Well, until junior high school. Yes, in junior high school, I had discovered the one thing that will bring you ultimate pleasure and satisfaction. Yes, of course, I am talking about...the arcade. Yes, the arcade, where you can spend hours of mind-boggling fun pointing a plastic gun at a horrible CG of an alien. I frequently visited one called Penny Arcade, which was ran by these two guys, Gabe and Tycho. It was here that I met my best friend, Chris Sabian.

Sabian was just a few months older than me, but it seemed like he was about 15 years younger. I mean, what kind of person still can't understand how money comes out of an ATM machine. I mean, come on! Everyone knows that the ATM Midget Brigade gives us the money! But anyways, Sabian and I were the bestest of friends. We did everything together. Our freshman year in high school, we convinced or parents to let us camp out in Wal-mart. It was great! We got pillows and blankets and moved them to the lawn and garden department. We picked out the most comfortable set of lawn furniture and that's where we decided to set up our headquarters. Sabian decided that he would practice his fishing skills in the pet department. Needless to say, we had miniature goldfish kabobs as a midnight snack. By our sophomore year, we had successfully managed to get kicked out of every Wal-mart in most of New York and New Jersey.

One summer afternoon, my mom decided that I should go out and get a job. As I've already told you, I don't have much luck when it comes to jobs, and this first one was no exception. I was working at a local coffee shop. My job was wiping down tables and refilling the trays on the table with packets of sugar. I was there for 20 minutes. The manager, Buddy Ackerman, asked me to bring him some sugar for his coffee. So, being the obediant and humble servant that I am, I went and got him a little pink packet of sugar. Boy, was that a HUGE mistake. Apparently, there is a huge difference between Sweet N' Low and Equal! I got a mongatiously long lecture about it, too! Once Buddy was finished explaining that to me, he decided that I had worked there long enough and sent me home with my very first paycheck. It was for $1.75. So, Sabian and I went and blew it all on moldy snowball snack cakes. That was probably the best spent $1.75 that I ever made.

Later that summer, Sabian and I both got a job at Emma's, a local jazz club and coffee shop. This was probably the best job that Sabian and I could have had together. Sabian played the saxaphone in the band. I was fixing drinks and waiting tables. We worked there for about 2 months. We were let go from our positions because the owners, Joe and Mandy, went bankrupt and had to sell the place. Well, during our time there, everytime I would enter the building, Sabian would play my favorite song, "Skylark" by Johnny Mercer. We met some great people there. Once, John Cusack left me and $50 tip. I've gotten tons of autographs, too! John, of course, and from Anthony Hopkins, Weird Al, Robin Williams, Josh Mullen, Sean Connery, Mel Gibson, and Harrison Ford just to name some of the best ones. But, there's one meeting that I will never forget.

I was walking out of the ladies' room and someone plowed into me. My nose hit their shoulder and started to bleed a little. The stranger apologized profusely while grabbing some napkins for me. He asked if I was alright, and I told him I was on my way to get a nose job anyway, so I'd have them fix it for me. Of course, he found this hilarious and asked me if there was anything that he could do. The bleeding had stopped by this time, and I looked up at him. I then realized who it was and said, without missing a beat, "you can buy me dinner sometime." He had a slightly taken aback look on his face. Then, he busted up laughing. I smiled and told him that I had to get back to work, but I was really fine.

I went back to fixing drinks. A few moments later, he came to sit at the bar. He said, "Can I just get a coffee? Like a latte? A latte would be fantastic." So, I got him his drink and started having a conversation with him. He was a huge John Lennon fan, which was awesome because I was, too. I sent Sabian the secret signal, and he started playing "Across The Universe," which just happens to be this guy's favorite song. We talked for about 10 minutes, and then he had to go back to work. He pulled out a business card and writes on the back, "Stop by sometime. KS," and gives it to me. I put the card in my pocket and continued about my day. That was probably my favorite thing that happened at Emma's. Well, as was previously stated, we were let go and life went on. Nothing extreamely interesting happened until a couple of years later. Well, aside from Sabian and I getting banned from IHOP, but that's confidential.

I was walking through Central Park, heading towards Strawberry Fields. It's a part of the park dedicated to John Lennon. It even has a tile mosaic circle where is says "Imagine." Well, I saw someone who was looking a little lost, so I asked him if he needed any help. He said he was looking for Strawberry Fields. Well, since I believe that there are no coincidences, I figured, why not go together? His name was Michael Lynch, and he was here with a few of his friends. He was looking for "Strawberry Fields" because one of his frends back home wanted to come, but couldn't, so he was going to take some pictures for her. Her name was Kylene. I asked him to tell me about her. He said that she was like a sunrise. Most people take it for granted, but if you stop to look and it and really think about it, it really ends up being the most beautiful thing that you've ever seen. I was surprised at this response. I wasn't expecting anything as moving as that was. I asked if she knew he felt like this. He said no, but he's felt this way for years and just didn't tell her. I asked how she felt, and apparently, she feels pretty much the same way, and she just doesn't tell him either.

We arrived at Strawberry Fields, and I helped his pick the best shots. I also pointed him in the direction of John's old apartment building, The Dakota. I told him that he should find some way to tell Kylene this, otherwise, all of this unselfish love would be wasted. We said goodbye as he headed for the Dakota, leaving me sitting on a bench, looking down at the mosaic. Placed above the word "imagine," was a single rose. That was one of the most peaceful moments in my life. I don't know what's become of Micheal and Kylene, but I do hope for the best.

Well, shortly after this, my mother, in her infinate wisdom, decided that I should get another job. So, I went looking through the newspaper for want ads. There were plenty in there for burger flippers, but I wanted to avoid that as much as I could. I did NOT want to do that. Definately not. I saw a few for secretaries. I thought, hey, I could be a secretary. Fetch coffee, keep notes, yeah, I could do that. One of the ads was for a place called "Trigger Street Productions." Now this name sounded eerily familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd heard it before. So, I decided to go and apply there.

I put on my best outfit. I decided that I absolutely despised it, so I just wore my Cusack for President tee, my holy jeans, and my extreamely comfortable shoes that I got from the spontaneous combusting babysitter. I left a little early so I could walk around the village for awhile, considering that 9 Desbrosses Street was only .6 miles away. I started off and I almost got ran over by someone on a turbo-powered Zappy, a motorized scooter. I had to laugh because I could only imagine what the headline would have read if he had hit me. Zippy Zappy Squishes Zealous Pedestrian.

I saw a few tourists, and stopped to chat for a little while. I started in the direction of Desbrosses Street. I passed by where Emma's used to be. They were building a diner called The Nite Owl. As I turned the corner, this guy plowed into me, spilling coffee all over me. I didn't really mind, and continued on my way after giving the guy a few bucks for a new drink. I smelled my shirt and realized that he had a cinnamon latte. Latte? Emma's? Zappy? Plowing? I suddenly realized where I heard the name "Trigger Street Productions" before! I stopped at a nearby bench to open my wallet and pull out a card. On the front it said, "Trigger Street Productions. 9 Desbrosses Street, 2nd floor, New York, New York, 10013. 212-609-0959." On the back, "Stop by sometime. KS."

I ran as fast as I could to Debrosses street. I finally got to the building and ran to the elevator. I furiously pushed the button. Of course, it was way to slow, so I sprinted up the stairs. Then I saw the door. The door with the big, block lettering on it. Trigger Street Productions. I opened the door and walked through it. And started to fall.

When I finally landed, or came to, (I don't remember which), I was wearing this. I've found a few odds and ends around here, too. I found this guitar I named Sabian. I've been teaching myself how to play. I'm not really sure how long I've been here. I don't even know where here is. And for some reason, I keep hearing these annoying songs about conformity and jiggiling biggles play over and over and over. So I had to write something to drowned it out, so, here goes.

[Plays "Keyser"]

Actually, I've made quite a few friends here.

[Curtain closes during the next few lines]

Like old Fluffy here. He's a real pal. He's promised to stick by me until I find a way out of here...


[Curtain opens on CAROLINE standing on stage]

So, you see Mr. Eden, that's why I didn't have time to write my one man show! I swear!

[Curtain closes over next lines]

It's all the truth! It all really happened! I really did move to Greenwich Village over the weekend......