A short phone play with a girl calling a friend from her new apartment. |
(Phone rings) Logan: Hello? Hannah: I hate this apartment; it’s tiny. Logan: What? Who is this? Hannah: Who else would call you about their tiny apartment? Logan: Sorry, should have known. How’s the move going? Hannah: It’s tiny, extremely tiny. You know how tiny? I can cook and shower at the same time; even the roaches are complaining. Logan: That is tiny— Hannah: And it smells. Logan: Like roaches? Hannah: Like a nursing home; if the nursing home doubles as a crack house. I heard rustling in the one—yes one closet, so now I can’t open it because of what might come out. Logan: Maybe it’s the roaches; use a shoe to kill them. Hannah: They already died from the smell! Logan: Or they passed out from your nonstop talking. Hannah: Is my panic attack fun for you? Logan: You know if you really hate the smell, try cleaning up with some bleach or something; it won’t smell like crack and the bleach smell will kill any insect intruders. Hannah: Okay, then I should probably go buy some cleaning supplies—and food, though I don’t remember seeing anything even close to looking like a grocery store in this area. Logan: You could always move back home. Hannah: I’m not going back there, I’m trying to be independent. Logan: Then start by cleaning your apartment! Hannah: I don’t have anything to clean with. Logan: That’s what stores—what’s that noise? Hannah: A siren, or screaming, either way I’m not going outside. Logan: Get off the phone. Hannah: What? Why? Logan: So I can come by with some Lysol, take-out and a bat. Hannah: What’s the bat for? Logan: To get rid of whatever’s living in your closet. Hannah: Are you sure, did you hear how small it is? I don’t even have any furniture yet. Logan: Then I’ll use the toilet as a chair, bye. Hannah: Bye. (Hangs up phone.) |