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Manga Creations / The Two Kings (Short Story)
« on: July 10, 2017, 08:14:48 PM »
So a little background on this story was that it was a drama for an assignment I was supposed to write. When it was read out loud in front of the class I got many laughs so hopefully you all will enjoy it too. It might not be pure manga format but I see it as close enough. (Just so you know I am not a smoker and do not condone the use of marijuana in where it is illegal; it is used here purely for comedic effect).
Scene: Two seventeen-year-olds friends, James and Charley, walk into James’ room with their backpacks on. The room is pretty small, with a bed on the far side near a shaded window, with a nightstand beside it with a lamp on top. Other than a dresser on the left side of the room and a trashcan near the doorway, there isn’t much else.
JAMES (sitting down on the bed). So, I got a quarter ounce the other day, and I already got a joint rolled. Wanna just light it up?
CHARLES (sitting down against the wall near the bed). That’d be awesome, I’ve been needing this all day.
JAMES (opening the drawer of his nightstand). Here we go, you have a lighter on you?
CHARLES (handing him a lighter). Here, hurry up and get it lit.
(James lights the joint and lets it burn for a few seconds, then deeply inhales it. At this point, I third character walks into the room. He looks to be around his thirties, with a business suit on. He goes into the corner and stares at the two stoners patiently).
JAMES (passing the joint to Charles). That’s the stuff, Jerry sure makes the stuff good.
CHARLES (after taking a hit of the joint). I can’t believe ya found such a good dealer. What was his price again?
JAMES. (showing a ziplock bag about half-full of weed) The guy’s a saint, I got this all for fifty bucks.
CHARLES. Damn, ya can’t be serious. I can’t find anybody who’d sell a quarter for less than seventy bucks.
JAMES. Jerry is a good buddy of mine, he gives me discounts, heh.
(Charles, who has a look of admiration on his face, takes another hit).
JAMES. Ok dude, pass it on back now.
(James and Charles proceed to pass around the joint for a couple more minutes in silence).
JAMES. You know, I was doing some thinking in the shower yesterday. Have you ever, like, felt like you aren’t in control of what you do?
CHARLES. Maybe.
JAMES. Imagine, that like, someone else is controlling what you do.
CHARLES. Oh yeah, I felt that. My life wouldn’t be so stupid if it weren’t like that.
JAMES. But like, what if we were something a writer wrote. Like characters in a book?
CHARLES. That’d be weird.
(Suddenly the man in a suit comes up and closes the nightstand’s drawer shut. After that, he returns to his spot in the corner).
JAMES (staring inquisitively at the nightstand). Yeah… that totally would be.
CHARLES (throwing the finished joint into the trashcan). Do ya have an ashtray?
JAMES. (opening the nightstand’s drawer again) Yeah, it’s right here.
CHARLES. Could ya roll another one?
JAMES (grabbing materials from within the nightstand). Yeah sure. Anyways, as I was talking about before. I was thinking that, not just me, but we’re all just people someone has in their story. We’re all just here to appease some reader that we have no idea exists. Maybe we’re in some popular book that a lot of people have read.
CHARLES. Like Harry Potter?
JAMES. Exactly like that.
(Suddenly, the man in a suit looks at the pair with a look of annoyance and walks up to the nightstand, closing the drawer shut again, this time with a little more force, and then returning once again to the corner).
JAMES (now looking at the drawer with annoyance while still finishing up the joint). Could you please stop closing the drawer? I’m still using it.
CHARLES (looks at James with a puzzled look) What? I didn’t touch it.
JAMES (sighing while lighting up the new joint in-hand) Whatever, I finished this one, now we just have to light it up.
(James and Charles start smoking the new joint, passing it back and forth).
JAMES. I still can’t shake off the feeling of being a storybook character. It’s seriously spooky.
CHARLES. Maybe that’s, like, how you’re supposed to feel?
JAMES. Oh, that would make sense.
CHARLES. How does our universe work then? I mean, I can feel the joint in my hand, and how crazy ya feel after taking a few hits.
JAMES. That makes sense. Think about anything outside my room. Like, we can’t see it, but we know it’s all there. Like our school, or maybe the In-N-Out down the street.
CHARLES. It’d be nice if our school didn’t actually exist.
(Suddenly, the man in a suit shakes his head, and goes around to shut the nightstand with intense force, and then to the dresser, opening all of the drawers there too. He then returns to his spot, enjoying their reactions. Both James and Charles stare at the dresser in disbelief for a brief moment).
CHARLES. So, uuh. What?
JAMES. Yeah, no. What just happened?
CHARLES. Maybe we’re too high now.
JAMES. Damn right we are!
CHARLES. Like, I just realized, what about outside of our world?
JAMES. Planets and stuff?
CHARLES. Planets and stuff. We, like, hear new things about the universe on the internet all the time. Does the writer think those up too?
JAMES. I don’t think so, why should the writer care about astrological stuff?
CHARLES. Who’s the writer?
JAMES (replying after pausing a moment) Wow, that’s such a good question.
CHARLES. Definitely a woman for starters.
(The man in a suit looks at Charles in surprise).
JAMES. Why should he be a woman?
CHARLES. Because women are, like, better at writing drama.
JAMES. But not everything that people write is drama.
CHARLES. The person who Harry Potter was a woman.
JAMES. Touché. I do feel like our writer would probably be some fat guy though.
(The man in a suit places his hand over his face in disbelief).
CHARLES. But why?
JAMES. Who writes about people smoking pot?
CHARLES. Touché right back at’cha.
(Suddenly, the man goes to the lamp on the nightstand and pushes it over, hitting Charles in the head).
CHARLES (rubbing his head). Why’d ya do that?
JAMES (after taking a huge hit from the joint). Do what?
CHARLES (staring angrily at James). Ya dropped the lamp on my head!
JAMES (staring at the lamp on the floor). Oh, did I do that? Sorry, I guess I’m in it a bit too deep.
CHARLES (groaning). Just pass it back now.
JAMES. I’ve been thinking now though, hasn’t some weird stuff been happening?
CHARLES. Like how you’re a total douche?
JAMES. Besides that, but what if maybe our talk is angering the writer?
CHARLES. James, I’m high right now and I, like, still think that’s a bogus idea.
(Suddenly, the man pushes the dresser over, the rolls the window shades up, and then the entire room shakes a little. After the shaking stop, James and Charles and the man in a suit silently stare at each other in silence, total shock stuck on their faces).
JAMES (taking a look at the joint he’s holding) Ok then.
CHARLES (also looking at the joint) That’s never happened before.
(The man in a suit, still shocked by the earthquake, goes up to James and takes the joint, taking a huge hit from it, after that he returns it to James and heads out of the room, seemingly depressed).
CHARLES (still staring at the joint). That’s a cool trick dude, ya need to teach me that!
JAMES. Uh, yeah. I don’t even know how I did it.
(The two continue to smoke as the curtains closes).
Scene: Two seventeen-year-olds friends, James and Charley, walk into James’ room with their backpacks on. The room is pretty small, with a bed on the far side near a shaded window, with a nightstand beside it with a lamp on top. Other than a dresser on the left side of the room and a trashcan near the doorway, there isn’t much else.
JAMES (sitting down on the bed). So, I got a quarter ounce the other day, and I already got a joint rolled. Wanna just light it up?
CHARLES (sitting down against the wall near the bed). That’d be awesome, I’ve been needing this all day.
JAMES (opening the drawer of his nightstand). Here we go, you have a lighter on you?
CHARLES (handing him a lighter). Here, hurry up and get it lit.
(James lights the joint and lets it burn for a few seconds, then deeply inhales it. At this point, I third character walks into the room. He looks to be around his thirties, with a business suit on. He goes into the corner and stares at the two stoners patiently).
JAMES (passing the joint to Charles). That’s the stuff, Jerry sure makes the stuff good.
CHARLES (after taking a hit of the joint). I can’t believe ya found such a good dealer. What was his price again?
JAMES. (showing a ziplock bag about half-full of weed) The guy’s a saint, I got this all for fifty bucks.
CHARLES. Damn, ya can’t be serious. I can’t find anybody who’d sell a quarter for less than seventy bucks.
JAMES. Jerry is a good buddy of mine, he gives me discounts, heh.
(Charles, who has a look of admiration on his face, takes another hit).
JAMES. Ok dude, pass it on back now.
(James and Charles proceed to pass around the joint for a couple more minutes in silence).
JAMES. You know, I was doing some thinking in the shower yesterday. Have you ever, like, felt like you aren’t in control of what you do?
CHARLES. Maybe.
JAMES. Imagine, that like, someone else is controlling what you do.
CHARLES. Oh yeah, I felt that. My life wouldn’t be so stupid if it weren’t like that.
JAMES. But like, what if we were something a writer wrote. Like characters in a book?
CHARLES. That’d be weird.
(Suddenly the man in a suit comes up and closes the nightstand’s drawer shut. After that, he returns to his spot in the corner).
JAMES (staring inquisitively at the nightstand). Yeah… that totally would be.
CHARLES (throwing the finished joint into the trashcan). Do ya have an ashtray?
JAMES. (opening the nightstand’s drawer again) Yeah, it’s right here.
CHARLES. Could ya roll another one?
JAMES (grabbing materials from within the nightstand). Yeah sure. Anyways, as I was talking about before. I was thinking that, not just me, but we’re all just people someone has in their story. We’re all just here to appease some reader that we have no idea exists. Maybe we’re in some popular book that a lot of people have read.
CHARLES. Like Harry Potter?
JAMES. Exactly like that.
(Suddenly, the man in a suit looks at the pair with a look of annoyance and walks up to the nightstand, closing the drawer shut again, this time with a little more force, and then returning once again to the corner).
JAMES (now looking at the drawer with annoyance while still finishing up the joint). Could you please stop closing the drawer? I’m still using it.
CHARLES (looks at James with a puzzled look) What? I didn’t touch it.
JAMES (sighing while lighting up the new joint in-hand) Whatever, I finished this one, now we just have to light it up.
(James and Charles start smoking the new joint, passing it back and forth).
JAMES. I still can’t shake off the feeling of being a storybook character. It’s seriously spooky.
CHARLES. Maybe that’s, like, how you’re supposed to feel?
JAMES. Oh, that would make sense.
CHARLES. How does our universe work then? I mean, I can feel the joint in my hand, and how crazy ya feel after taking a few hits.
JAMES. That makes sense. Think about anything outside my room. Like, we can’t see it, but we know it’s all there. Like our school, or maybe the In-N-Out down the street.
CHARLES. It’d be nice if our school didn’t actually exist.
(Suddenly, the man in a suit shakes his head, and goes around to shut the nightstand with intense force, and then to the dresser, opening all of the drawers there too. He then returns to his spot, enjoying their reactions. Both James and Charles stare at the dresser in disbelief for a brief moment).
CHARLES. So, uuh. What?
JAMES. Yeah, no. What just happened?
CHARLES. Maybe we’re too high now.
JAMES. Damn right we are!
CHARLES. Like, I just realized, what about outside of our world?
JAMES. Planets and stuff?
CHARLES. Planets and stuff. We, like, hear new things about the universe on the internet all the time. Does the writer think those up too?
JAMES. I don’t think so, why should the writer care about astrological stuff?
CHARLES. Who’s the writer?
JAMES (replying after pausing a moment) Wow, that’s such a good question.
CHARLES. Definitely a woman for starters.
(The man in a suit looks at Charles in surprise).
JAMES. Why should he be a woman?
CHARLES. Because women are, like, better at writing drama.
JAMES. But not everything that people write is drama.
CHARLES. The person who Harry Potter was a woman.
JAMES. Touché. I do feel like our writer would probably be some fat guy though.
(The man in a suit places his hand over his face in disbelief).
CHARLES. But why?
JAMES. Who writes about people smoking pot?
CHARLES. Touché right back at’cha.
(Suddenly, the man goes to the lamp on the nightstand and pushes it over, hitting Charles in the head).
CHARLES (rubbing his head). Why’d ya do that?
JAMES (after taking a huge hit from the joint). Do what?
CHARLES (staring angrily at James). Ya dropped the lamp on my head!
JAMES (staring at the lamp on the floor). Oh, did I do that? Sorry, I guess I’m in it a bit too deep.
CHARLES (groaning). Just pass it back now.
JAMES. I’ve been thinking now though, hasn’t some weird stuff been happening?
CHARLES. Like how you’re a total douche?
JAMES. Besides that, but what if maybe our talk is angering the writer?
CHARLES. James, I’m high right now and I, like, still think that’s a bogus idea.
(Suddenly, the man pushes the dresser over, the rolls the window shades up, and then the entire room shakes a little. After the shaking stop, James and Charles and the man in a suit silently stare at each other in silence, total shock stuck on their faces).
JAMES (taking a look at the joint he’s holding) Ok then.
CHARLES (also looking at the joint) That’s never happened before.
(The man in a suit, still shocked by the earthquake, goes up to James and takes the joint, taking a huge hit from it, after that he returns it to James and heads out of the room, seemingly depressed).
CHARLES (still staring at the joint). That’s a cool trick dude, ya need to teach me that!
JAMES. Uh, yeah. I don’t even know how I did it.
(The two continue to smoke as the curtains closes).
