The Weather

Every Off Off Broadway Play My Ex-Girlfriend Ever Made Me See

ACT ONE

SCENE 1

Silence. Darkness. An underpaid, virtually untrained light board operator slowly raises a single light onstage. A bearded MAN (30s, desperate, sad eyes) stands naked in a bathtub, staring out into the audience, his uncut pubes bushing out like a tiny afro. Sitting in a rocking chair upstage and wielding a large knife, a WOMAN (20s, recent college graduate) begins chopping up dolls or makeup or hair or glamour magazines—anything but actual food. Silence, except for the sound of the knife, held for what feels like thirty minutes but is actually three.

MAN

Did you remember the candles?

The Woman pauses, milking her first moment onstage as if the institution of theater was ending tomorrow and there would never be another role offered to anyone, ever. The cutting resumes.

MAN

It’s her birthday tomorrow.

A second pause. The audience continues to stare at the Man’s uncircumcised penis.

MAN

She’ll be turning four

WOMAN

Your water must be cold.

A beat. The Man’s penis twitches, and thus nobody hears him say:

MAN

It is.

A TEENAGE GIRL (late 30s, malnourished and tired) enters stage left holding a teddy bear and wearing a long, white-laced gown with a large menstruation stain in the front. She looks at the Man. The Woman continues chopping, visibly working very hard not to look at the Teenage Girl, thus establishing that she is a ghost.

TEENAGE GIRL

Where’s our baby? Where’s our little… angel?

The Man turns to the Teenage Girl, his penis swaying.

MAN

Hello… Faith.

As the Man addresses the Teenage Girl, the Woman cuts herself with the knife. She stares at the drop of blood forming on her finger, which should be played like the opposite of a genuine reaction to someone seeing their own blood form on their finger. The Woman looks to the Man.

WOMAN

Faith is dead, Joshua.

She sucks the blood from her finger, then slowly pumps her finger in and out of her mouth half a dozen times, a thinly veiled allusion to a phallus entering a vagina. Then:

WOMAN

Your sister is dead.

She repeats herself, so that the audience can understand the dark, twisted nature of their relationship.

WOMAN

I said, your sister is dead.

From beneath the giant menstruation stain, the Teenage Girl slowly pulls out a tattered American flag. She raises it about her head, her weak, underfed arms trembling. Murmurs of, “the war on drugs” and “she’s supposed to be Afghanistan” can be heard throughout the audience. The Teenage Girl walks off stage. The Man looks out into the audience once more.

MAN

Did you remember the candles?

Silence. The lighting board guy coughs.

MAN

It’s her birthday tomorrow.

WOMAN

No, Joshua. There won’t be a birthday tomorrow.

He slowly turns to face her. This feels like ten years.

MAN

Won’t there?

Trembling, the Man bends down. The audience winces as his nut sack touches the water. Slowly he pulls a BABY out of the bathtub. Water drips off the lifeless corpse of the doll onto his face as he shakes the baby in the air. The light board guy coughs again. The sound of bubbles and a baby crying (quickly and crudely put together in Garage Band) fills the theatre as the lights change.

This continues for the next three hours. 

 

 

EVERY COMEDY MY EX-BOYFRIEND EVER FORCED ME TO WATCH

By Justin Shipley’s Ex-Girlfriend

INT. GROSS APARTMENT – DAY

We open on two dumpy guys smoking pot in a gross apartment they can’t afford. Dumpy Guy #1 farts.

GUY #2

Dude! That smells so bad, man! It smells so bad I’m going to fart, too.

Guy #2 farts.

GUY #1

Man, that smells awful! I secretly like it.

Guy #1 farts again.

GUY #2

Stop being so gay. Hey, wanna look at my penis?

Guy #2 shows his tiny penis to Guy #1.

GUY #1

Cool. Now look at my penis.

Guy #1 and Guy #2 drool as they start smooshing their soft penises together. Guy #3 enters.

GUY #3

Whoa! You guys are gay!

Guy #3 farts and then takes out his limp penis. He drapes it on the other two. The three guys roll on the ground, their awkward, doughy bodies slowly becoming one.

This continues for 120 minutes.

Produced by Judd Apatow. 

Justin Shipley is a writer, improviser, and perpetual office assistant living in Los Angeles. He once waited in line for the restroom behind Chris Pine, so yeah, he's doing just fine, thanks.