"Twi§ted P@ir" 2-page sample

by Alan C. Baird   [return to synopses]

                           Twi§ted P@ir

a virtual cyber-drama in one act
Alan C. Baird

Copyright (c) 1998 Alan C. Baird e: ia@apcX.net [remove anti-spam "X"] s: Box 10801, Glendale CA 91209-3801 USA i: ^Ace^ on IRC.SuperChat.Org w: http://www.apc.net/ia

MALCOLM A teenaged macho-boy, full of rampaging hormones and soulful dreams. His chatroom handle is ZEUS.
CARL Malcolm's cantankerous, balding grandfather.
NORBERT Malcolm's mild-mannered, yet handsome, father.
DELCIE A pubescent girl, slightly more ripe than Lolita. Online, she goes by the name BUNNYFLUFF.
MONA Delcie's good-looking, overworked mother.
VERLINE Delcie's eccentric grandmother.
The following character voices may be doubled by the actors above, or pre-recorded:
PC VOICE Unbearably sexy female, disembodied.
MALE VOICE #1 Doofus teenager with no clue; a/k/a WIZARD.
MALE VOICE #2 Imagine that Slick Willie pretends to be 35 years younger, hangs out in teenage chatrooms, and calls himself SHAGGER. [It's not such a stretch, is it?]

Black drapes alternately cloak and reveal two abstract, non-realistic locations: Norbert's apartment, and Mona's flat, both containing three chairs. The only "real" item in each area is a waist-high table containing a computer mockup, which won't be required to operate. Mona has the easily-recognized tall, narrow Macintosh casing, and Norbert is a PC kind o' guy. Later scenes will add a small cafe table to the chairs, suggesting an outdoor bistro.

A split-nanosecond into the future.

Release v. 1.1
(Norbert's apartment. Malcolm is snoozing, sprawled across the three chairs which are lined up to suggest a couch. Covering his face is a luridly-illustrated "Cybergeex" comic book.)
PC VOICE MaaaaaAAAAAAlcoooooolm . . .
(Malcolm doesn't hear this coquettish female voice, oozing from a spotlit computer at the stage's front corner.)
PC VOICE MaalCOOOLM? (Since there's still no response, her volume escalates, to nearly a shout.) MALCOLM!!!
(Malcolm awakes with a start, rubbing his eyes. He stares at the computer longingly, but finally decides to leaf through the comic book. His attempt to ignore this enticing machine is not very successful, however. The persistent voice tantalizes him, with a pause between each verse of her siren song.)
PC VOICE Baaaybeeeee . . . turn me onnnnnnnnnn! (Pause) Ooooooo, I wanna feel your strong, MACHO fingers on my keyboard, stroking and caresssssssssing me. (Pause) Sweetcakes, you're the ONLY one who understands how to fondle my special button. You reallllLLLLLLLy know how to massage a girl's data files. (Pause) Oh, Malcolm, how can you treat me like this? (Pause) You know I save it all up for you, Studmuffin . . . (Pause) Puleeeeeeeeze Honeybunch, I want it, I NEEEEEEEEED it, I GOTTA HAVE it! (Pause) Show it to me, Big Boy. Give me allllllllllll you've got. (Pause) Wait a minute. You don't LOVE me anymore! (Pause) Is there another computer? At school? (Pause) At the LIBRARY?! (Pause) Oh. My. God. (Pause) You've found one of those loosey-goosey Pentium hussies, haven't you? (Pause) I knew it had to end up like this. (She breaks down sobbing, but finally pulls herself together, defiantly.) Well, she may be cuter and faster, but I take my tiiiiiiiime with you. I'm the only one who can drive you craaaaaazy with desiiiiiiiiiire . . . (Pause) You know you neeeeeeeed to flick my switch. And I realllllllly want it, too. C'mon, whaddaya say? Just one more, for old time's sake.
(Malcolm sighs, and walks over to the computer.)
MALCOLM One of these days, I really hafta get a life.
PC VOICE You don't need anything but me, you steamin' hunk o' MANLINESS. Now, caress my hot, fur-covered mouse. Thaaaaaat's right, just like we used to. Can you feel me trembling underneath your touch? Sweetie-pie, nobody services me like you do . . . you KNOW that I'm soooooo well-lubricated. I'm really HUNGRY for you. Whip me, beat me, make me beg for it. You know you want to boot me up, and I'm just nasty enough to LET you. Put your fingers right between . . . therrrrrrrrrre. Yeah, YOU know the place. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Don't rush things too much, Loverboy, let me warm up a little bit, first. That's right, gently rub my sweeeeeet slot, around and around and AROUND . . . yessssss, oooooooooo moooore, ohyeah, ohyeah, biiiiig thrust, uh, uh, ooOOOHHHH . . .
(As Malcolm plunges his finger into the power button, her voice is rising. It blends seamlessly into the mounting whine of a hard drive which spins up to speed, resulting in the staccato chirps of several small program loads. These are replaced with a telephone dial tone, followed quickly by the seven ascending beeps of a dialed number, and climaxing with the treble-pitched screeching wail of a yearning modem, finally united with its Internet server host.)
PC VOICE Ummm . . . you don't happen to have a cigarette, do ya?
. . .

© Alan C. Baird · bio · Dramatists Guild member · return to synopses · ^