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Happy Birthday Ray Bradbury!
Here’s a short play with Bradburian influences.
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SUMMER APPLES
By John Weagly
(Lights up. A pick-your-own apple orchard. REBECCA and JENNIFER, both in their late-twenties, watch their children play.)
REBECCA: Look at those kids go, weaving between the trees.
JENNIFER: So much for coming to an apple orchard to pick apples. We should’ve just taken them to a park.
REBECCA: Summer’s winding down. They need to release that last warm, golden burst of energy.
JENNIFER: The cramped backs and sore feet of middle age are a million miles away. How old is your Peter?
REBECCA: He’s eight next month.
JENNIFER: Right. I knew that. Six months older than Doris. I think. Yeah, that sounds right. Six months.
REBECCA: They have their whole lives ahead of them.
(Pause. They watch their kids.)
REBECCA: What do you think they’re thinking of?
JENNIFER: Who knows? The imagination of a child? It could be anything.
REBECCA: Sinister skeletons.
JENNIFER: Diabolical dwarves.
REBECCA: Foghorns calling to sad sea monsters.
JENNIFER: Magical jars.
REBECCA: Illustrated men.
JENNIFER: Traveling back in time.
REBECCA: Captivating carousels.
JENNIFER: Rocketships.
REBECCA: Outer space.
JENNIFER: Martians.
REBECCA: It could be anything.
(Pause. They watch their kids.)
REBECCA: Have you ever had dandelion wine?
JENNIFER: What’s Dandelion Wine?
REBECCA: Wine. Made from dandelions, I suppose. John brought some home. Apparently it’s a summer treat.
JENNIFER: Sounds disgusting.
REBECCA: You’re right. It does.
(Pause. They watch their kids.)
REBECCA: Your Doris looks just like you.
JENNIFER: She does?
REBECCA: Yes.
JENNIFER: That’s odd.
(Pause. They watch their kids.)
REBECCA: I don’t think I’ll try it.
JENNIFER: Try what?
REBECCA: Dandelion Wine.
JENNIFER: Dandelions are weeds.
REBECCA: I know. That’s why it sounds so unappetizing. Weeds fermented and turned into alcohol.
JENNIFER: Yuck.
(Pause. They watch their kids.)
REBECCA: Look at your Doris try to climb that tree!
JENNIFER: Be careful honey!
REBECCA: Such a wonderful child. You’re very lucky.
JENNIFER: She’s not mine, you know.
REBECCA: She’s adopted? How special of you! John and I considered adopting when it looked like I couldn’t conceive, but then we got lucky.
JENNIFER: I didn’t adopt her. I stole her.
(Pause.)
JENNIFER: I was hoping we’d pick some nice apples to take home. Then we could have some good, sweet apples whenever we want. Fresh-picked apples are definitely a summer treat. Maybe you and John could make cider. That makes more sense than making wine from dandelions.
(Pause.)
REBECCA: I’m sorry, what did you say?
JENNIFER: Nice sweet apples are more of a summer treat than wine made from weeds.
REBECCA: No, about your daughter. About how you didn’t adopt her.
JENNIFER: I stole her. I was at a mall and she was wandering around. This was…. Let’s see… four years ago. There wasn’t anyone watching, so I just snatched her. Doris. She’s been mine ever since.
REBECCA: But… that’s… I don’t know how to respond to that.
JENNIFER: It’s all fine.
REBECCA: You kidnapped a child!
JENNIFER: I didn’t kidnap her. I never asked for any kind of ransom, I never threatened to harm her. I just took her and gave her a wonderful home.
REBECCA: But her family must be worried sick!
JENNIFER: It’s been four years. I doubt they even remember.
REBECCA: But…
JENNIFER: I have given her a fantastic life – love, support, she’ll never want for anything. She doesn’t even remember the time before she came to live with me. It’s all fine.
REBECCA: She doesn’t remember anything? Her old house, her friends? She doesn’t remember her real parents?
JENNIFER: She doesn’t remember a thing.
REBECCA: I… I suppose it’s okay then.
JENNIFER: Yes. It’s all fine.
(Pause. They watch their kids.)
JENNIFER: What could they be thinking of?
REBECCA: Assassin infants.
JENNIFER: Curious crowds.
REBECCA: Literary parrots.
JENNIFER: Celebrating all of summer in a single day.
REBECCA:
I dreamt of summer
And picked apples in the sun,
Their yellow skin a weekend in June
Each bite a July firecracker
Their cider tasting of August rain
I dreamt of summer
And apples and warmth
But when I woke
Childhood memories chilled my bones
JENNIFER: What’s that?
REBECCA: A poem I read when I was in grade school, about Doris’ age. I liked it so I memorized it.
JENNIFER: It’s nice.
(They watch their kids as the lights slowly fade.
Lights down.)
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