Table Read - Small Block Act Two

Episode Date: January 11, 2026

The morning after Homecoming week hits different. P wakes up at Dizzy’s house pretending everything is fine, even though nothing is fine. The letter from St. John’s is in his pocket like a weight. The DeLorean didn’t show. The note he wrote is still in his head.Outside, Kev and Dizzy shoot hoops like the world is normal. P pretends right along with them. The kind of pretending every kid knows too well. Then real life barges in, and the moment they were waiting for disappears before it even starts.At the video store, things get even tighter. Bex is behind the counter. Kev is cracking jokes that cut deeper than he realizes. P is trying to disappear inside a ruined shirt and a smile that doesn’t fit anymore.He escapes to the back room, plays a fighting game, and chooses the one character who feels closest to the person he can’t say out loud. For a second, he can breathe. Then everything and everyone he’s avoiding walks right in.Act Two is where the mask slips. Where jokes stop being jokes. Where P realizes he can’t keep pretending forever.SMALL BLOCK is a feature screenplay by Ashley Lauren, performed live and mixed like a feature film for your ears. From the award-winning team at TABLE READ / Manifest Media Productions.Content Advisory: This episode contains suicidal ideation, transphobic and homophobic language, and minor fatphobic language, used intentionally to serve the story and its period portrayal.New episodes drop Tuesdays. Subscribe now.Cast (Full Feature):P - Levi DaffernerKev - Kosi EguchiBex - Piper KingstonDizzy - Deryck HakMiss World - Lydia TinsleyDad - Adam PilverMrs. D - Gemma KyleMom - Leah ZhangBritt - Eric MillerTiff / Martha - Avery NorrisMr. Welch / Kev's Dad - Eddie AguirreDan / Zach - Aidan DickJack - Kellen RoseJames - Michael Amir NashRob - Jack MurphyJanet / Video Store Clerk - Sabrina ArissNarrator - Paula TisoWritten by Ashley LaurenProduced by Jack Levy, Mark Knell, and Shaan Sharma for TABLE READ / Manifest MediaSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Small Block, written by Ashley Lauren. Thank you for listening to Small Block. Please note that there is adult language throughout that is not suitable for young listeners. Furthermore, there are a few items that might be triggering for some readers. These include suicidal ideation, discussion, transphobic language, homophobic language, minor instances of fatphobic language. All phobic language is used intentionally for thematic reasons. It is not used without thought or due to either naivete or bigotry. Thank you again for listening to Smallblock.

Now, on to the show. Oh, hey, cool, you're back. I'm glad I changed my mind about my dark thoughts, for the moment at least. But now, Bex, my former best friend, is super pissed at me. Well, yeah. Is that because I'm a girl? What kind of question is that? Plus, I totally like Kev my current best friend down during the Battle of the Sexes.

It's not the way I envisioned things going. Yeah, you think? At least we get to spend homecoming weekend at our friend and bandmates Dizzy's house. We're still fighting over whether or not to go to the dance, though. Not that any of us have dates yet. It'll be fun. We should go. Definitely not going. I'd like to go, but anyway, we just met Miss World and her sick DeLorean.

Man, I hope you get to ride in it. I could use a win, especially with my dad on me about girls in St. John's. Act two. Interior Dizzy's room, morning. Sun streams in, pee awakens, top bunk, alone in the room. He listens, nothing. He quietly slips the yearbook from under his pillow. A Kleeneck sticks out, a makeshift bookmark.

He opens to Bex smiling with the butterfly. He gazes fondly. He glances at the DeLorean poster on the wall, then back to Bex. He trials different ways to ask her the big question. Do you want to go to the dance with me? Do you want to go to the dance with me? Do you want to go to the dance with me? Do you want to go to the dance with me?

Through the wall, toilet flush, faucet. P quickly returns the Kleenex with backs and shoves the yearbook under his pillow. Kev enters from the bathroom, an unopened but sweating sprite in hand, backpack in the other. What about coma at my funeral? What'd make sense? You're not killing yourself. Kep opens the Sprite and a spriton. writes, sips, P reaches, Kev passes him the can.

You'll probably, like, die surrounded by your hot wife and perfect kids. Pei takes a long drink, returns the can. He adjusts his purple beanie worn through the night. You know, the dance might not be so bad. Please. I'm not going to be the dateless loser in the corner with his other dateless loser friends while Bex laughs at me. She wouldn't laugh at you. I mean, I could, I don't know, like have her hang with us at the dance.

She's super nice. Yeah? You want her to hang with us now? Maybe next time you two can have a heart to heart, and you can tell her how super nice I am. Kev chugs the sprite. He throws the empty can at the trash. It misses. He sorts through his bag by his pillow.

P rolls over, facing the ceiling. He softly sings Guns and Roses, Coma. Hey, you caught me in a coma, and I don't think I want to ever come back to this. Pea looks at the closed door, no dizzy. glances at the door again. Deep breath, here goes. There's some shit that I want to tell.

The door pounds open. Where's my dad's penthouse, homo? Dizzy storms into the room glaring at pee. I know you took it from the stack of my parents' bathroom. Your dad has a stack of penthouses? Did you take it? Kev shakes his head. All 57 issues need to be...

He has 57 penthouses in the bathroom and you never told us? Everything needs to be fucking perfect or my dad will be pissed. I told you, I didn't take it. And I'm telling you, you're a lie. Dizzy grabs P's backpack. Kev props his pillow behind him. Don't just my bag, dude. Dizzy dumps the contents onto the floor. Books cascade out, followed by clothes and a Ziploc with a t-shirt inside.

A blue trapper folder falls out, papers scattering. P rushes to the floor, collecting them. That's our fucking lyrics, man. Dizzy spots something under P's pillow. He tosses the pillow to the floor. He holds the yearbook, confused. Dude, are you whacking off to the yearbook? P.I's the Kleenex book marks.

sticking out at the top. Where are you hiding it? P jumps up, grabs the yearbook. He lets it fall to his side, the Kleenex drifting to the floor. Just put the shit back, okay, and whatever else you're hiding. My dad... Where is your dad anyway? I'm here like every weekend and haven't seen him in months. Dude! Outside, Mrs. D. Pills into the driveway. I've seen your mom working her ass off, though, while you bitch about how she won't make you Bontette or ribs or a fucking sandwich.

Dizzy's on the verge of tears. Some shit should stay inside, bro. It's got to be perfect when it comes back. P shakes his head and pushes past Dizzy into the hallway. Interior hallway, living room, kitchen, continuous. P walks towards the kitchen. Mrs. D. quietly closes the front door, her eyes ringed dark. Morning, Mrs. D. D. D. Gets water. Dizzy enters quiet. How's Uncle Chris? Mrs. Ders turns to Dizzy tired, a faint smile. Okay for now. Your boys want omelets? Anything you want inside? Anything you want inside? Dizzy glances at P first and shakes his head. Mrs. D hands him three, Bontet.

She winks conspiratorially. I can make more before he runs out. P offers Dizzy a cold sprite. He takes it. They're okay. Interior, Dizzy's bathroom short time later. P opens a Ziploc in front of the mirror. An impeccably folded band t-shirt inside,

Sepultura, beneath the remains. He inspects every milliliter carefully, leaning close, he spots a tiny crumb. Here, real quick, just a millimeter. Sorry. A millimeter. I did that at the end. He inspects every millimeter carefully.

Leaning close, he spots a tiny crumb. He brushes until every trace is gone. Exterior. Street Planet VHS. Short time later. The sun shines brightly on the perfect Sepuletura shirt. Peek, Kevin Dizzy walked to. toward the Planet VHS parking lot.

They each hold different ice cream treats. Kev, Flintstone's push-up pop, Dizzy, Firecracker, P, drumstick. Come on, I want to get the crow! He walks even faster. P grins at Kev and walks even slower. Kev slows in kind. They talk quietly. The crow soundtrack is so badass.

Why'd you say Bex could hang with us? I just met at the dance. If we went, you brought her up. Kev thinks about it. We're cool, right? Dude, always. You're my brother. Yeah, I still like her. Just not the same way I used to. Kev nods, thinking, Dizzy notices how far behind they are.

The fuck, Kev. We just wanted to give you space. And I want to give you my fat cock in your ass. Ever consider how tiresome it is hearing gay shit from you all the time? Ever consider how I'd like you better if your mouth was full of dicks instead of words? Kev laughs. P smacks Kev's arm, but smiles. P-flat tires Dizzy. Dizzy kneels to put his shirt.

shoe back on. Fucker. Finally at the store, P reaches for the door handle. Dizzy runs past him flinging the door open. The door flies into P, knocking his hand. The drumstick mashes onto his chest, leaving a huge vanilla smears spattered on his shirt. Fuck you! We gotta go back!

You wish! Looks like Kev's load blasted all over your chest. Kevin Dizzy laugh. Seriously, please, let's go back. Interior Planet VHS moments later, Beck stands at the front of the Blockbuster style video store. P tries to hide his shirt, but nothing doing. Welcome to Planet VHS. Pee, looks like Kev dumped a load on your chest. Reach out if you need me. VHS stands for very hospitable service.

She walks off smiling. P's face burns. Dizzy leans over the tape, return counter, trying to see what just came in, but it's obscured. P follows behind Kev closely trying to hide his shirt. The three boys sort through the rows of tapes on the counter. Chick-flick, chick flick. Seen it. Ah, chick flick. It's not fucking in. Thanks for insisting we come here today, P. We can do son-in-law again. Dizzy renews his efforts. P pulls a tape. Naked Gun 33 and a third? Anything but son-in-law.

Tapes clunk into the return bin. Dizzy searches for help. He signals to a manager. She talks into her headset. Bex arrives moments later. P stands behind Kev. Need help sounding out the titles. Are any of those, the crow? P leans to Kev quietly. Got in quarters? Interior, Planet VHS back room short time later. A small arcade setup with a few game cabinets,

P alone, plays Super Street Fighter 2 Turbo. He's Cammy, a blonde female military fighter. He fights Gile, a blonde male military fighter. Cammy and Gile battle back and forth. The two blonde fighters looking like mirror. as they trade blows. They connect simultaneously with each other. They collapse.

Double K-O. A quarter is placed by the bottom of the screen. Next. P. turns. Bex is right there. Shit. Hey now. Until yesterday, I thought we were still friends.

She inspects P's chin. You shouldn't shave your one hair. You look like a girl without it. Listen, I'm... Bex pushes in the quarter. I'll be gentle, since your bodyguard and his guns all are outside. That's funny. Sam Spade calls a guide.

Gunzel in Maltese Falcon. Sorry, this is like a tongue twister. That's funny. Sam Spade calls a guy a Gunzel in Maltese Falcon. Bex stares dead-eyed. Answers Dead Pan. Oh, my golly. Do you know where I could possibly rent such a film? Listen, I'm an idiot.

Bex hits Start. Short time later, P and Beck's eye the screen intensely. Cammy, P, flips. Blanca, Bex, a green animal. grabs and bites her. K-O. Beck's wins. Two-zip.

Almost went around, though. She checks her watch. Seven minutes left. Three or five? P glances toward the door, no sign of Kev. Deep breath. This is kind of embarrassing, but... Is it about the shirt?

Bit fucked up you'd show with my favorite album looking more like beneath the semen, but I'll forgive you. For that. P. looks at his beneath the remained shirt with the huge ice cream splotch. He turns to the door, still no sign of Kev.

It's not the shirt. I wanted to ask. Listen, that wasn't me yesterday. I mean, it was obviously me, but not like the real me. The real me wouldn't do that. Oh, yeah? Because it looked like you. The fuck, dude?

Kev shoots pee a loaded look from the doorway. Eight whole minutes without pee. Postpartum much? Maybe I wanted to see you. Flowers over there, please. I'm busy kicking Pea's ass. At least, I think it's pee? there's a debate.

P avoids both their eyes. He stares into his reflection in the game screen. It's not what you think, dude. We just went a few rounds. With everything yesterday, you know, I didn't want her to feel bad. Bex snatches her remaining quarter. As she leaves, Bex, wait. I guess this one isn't the real you either, right?

She's gone. Pea stares at the door. Not like you used to, huh? Interior Planet VHS moments later. P. and Kev, mid-chat, find dizzy at the wall of the crow boxes. She called next. She can call whatever the fuck she wants. You don't have to play.

Kev walks a couple of aisles over. P calls after him. Who doesn't continue playing when someone calls next? 47 fucking boxes and not a single goddamn actual tape-in. I knew we should have come yesterday. Kev rapturously brings the box for son-in-law. May I suggest son-in-law, it's featuring the lady of my dreams, Miss Carla Gujarna?

I'd rather shoot myself in the butthole. You like it. I used to like it. Oh, God. A distressed video, Runs past the boys tearing toward the bathroom. Dizzy turns to peeve who peers over the aisles looking for Bex. Isn't there anything else you want?

Something more filmy or whatever? You know what I heard is pretty good? The crying game. Bro. Either have you all seen it? Nope. P. Spots Bex talking to a tall, thin woman with a VCR case. The woman's short skirt shows her midriff, yellow flower in her hair.

So this... I'm sorry, short shirt. Shows her midrift. Yeah, I was wondering how her short skirt shows. As I was saying it, I'm like, how does that work? I was like, okay. P.Spot's Bex talking to a tall, thin woman with a VCR case. The woman's short shirt shows her midriff, yellow flower in her hair.

So this IRA girl's going to fuck this girl, right? IRA guy, but great energy. That's such a director thing to do. You fucked it up, but that was so good. So this IRA guy is going to fuck this girl, right? Beck smiles broadly, almost beaming. She points at a shelf. The woman turns, revealing her face.

Miss World! Miss World surprise, turns. She waves, the boys approach. 1450 for the weekend. Returns for the VCRs are inside the store. I'm here Sunday, if you wanted to hand it directly to me. Anything else I may help you with? No.

Oh, thank you. Bex. Reach out if you need me. VHS stands for very hospitable service. Bex smiles wistfully, reluctantly leaves. Peas eyes follow. Dizzy tries to locate the DeLorean out the store window. So lucky that we came today. I thought any more about a ride? Our parents will be at the homecoming game later.

We're playing St. John's. You can meet them. They'll tell you no big deal and we can go for a ride there. God, I'd love to see everyone from school. Look at me ride around. with a hot chick blasting Pantera. My pairs will buy you a Frito pie. Miss World smiles.

Can't deny it. Dizzy turns back to the shelves. It was fun talking music, and you all seem nice. But a ride's a bad idea. I'm an adult. It's weird. Peace face falls. Here it is!

Dizzy holds up the box to the crying game. So, like I said, this IRA guy is going to fuck this girl, right? It's like any normal, boring, sex scene, tits or whatever. But then the camera keeps going down, and she has a fucking dick. P and Kev both stop what they're doing. They show it? Dizzy nods.

Miss World listens intently. She hot? Dicks should be on dudes. Plus, it should have been huge if you want to shock people. What is the guy deal? Hits her and pukes, obviously. Miss World's eyes circle the group.

Kev bursts out laughing. Sorry. Can we go again, please? Kev bursts out laughing. Ace Ventura is so smart. Miss World steps in taking the tape from Dizzy. Tomorrow morning. Same house? Yes.

Deal. For real? Promise. 11 a.m. I want to talk to your parents first, though. Sweet! I'll wear my Metallica shirt. No.

My primus shirt again. Nope. Maybe my nine-inch-knail shirt. You brought four shirts, but only one pair of underwear? Five shirts. Miss World puts the crying game back on the shelf. Read something else. Dizzy points to the tape in her hand.

That the crow? She displays her tape. Peggy Sue got married. Tomorrow at 11. She leaves. Holy shit. Holy shit! I'm going to ride into Delorean tomorrow.

I can't even imagine what it'll be like to actually be inside it. Kev waits till she's at the register, then quietly picks up the crying game. He looks at Pee and Dizzy shrugs. P gazes at Bex's cheerful smile as she ringed. brings up Miss World. Interior Planet VHS checkout moments later. Dizzy checks the tape return one last time. Bex works one of two registers.

P and Kev wait for the other. Only one customer ahead, but their video clerk, the same one who ran by earlier, shifts back and forth uncomfortably. P picks up a Cadbury cream egg from the discount bin. Oh, those don't deserve to exist. I like the center. Dizzy returns, the customer leaves. Their clerk turns to Bex.

Oh, God, this new modification. I can't hold it. I'll cover me. The boys look to Bex's register. She smiles sweetly at them. Moments later, tapes slide across the counter. P adds the cream egg. Shit, tastes like butt.

You eat butt? Bex laughs loudly, then stops abruptly, deflating dizzy. Pee swaps the egg out for a purple grape tootsy pop. Bex holds up the crying game. Pee looks at Bex. He adjusts his purple beanie. Yeah, let's put it back.

Beck slides it under the counter. God damn it, I want to rent two movies. Kev slides son-in-law across the counter. He and P silently watched Dizzy stare at it. Fine. I get to ride in a D'Laurin. I'll give you son-in-law. Pee nudges, Kevin, congratulations. Touching. A true sacrifice. That'll be 880.

Oh, wait. You guys wanted the crow, right? Guess what my mom just returned. Dizzy raises his hands to the Lord. P gives Beck's a sincere thank-you smile the kind with a sheepish apology included. Beck smiles warmly. She slides the tape across the counter. Yentel.

Tense crowd noise builds. Getting louder, P drops his head. The exterior homecoming game nearby field evening. Pei's head raises. Nearby crowd noise floats on the wind. Pete charges down the field. Weaving past St. John's eighth grade defenders. All the players are in street clothes, a playground game.

The football floats through the dark night sky, arcing downward straight into the hands of the receiver on the homecoming game Main Field simultaneous. The varsity Pond Hill receiver catches the ball, tears toward the end zone. Bright stadium lights bathe everything in fluorescent drama. Go Pond Hill and beat St. John signs on one side. He walks with us.

He walks with us, St. John's is king, and Pond Hill each shit signs fill the opposing stands. The receiver cuts sharply, dodges a tackle, dives, touchdown. The Pond Hill crowd erupts. Yes! Cheerleaders scream wildly. Exterior homecoming game nearby field simultaneous. Eighth grade girls talk about anything else as they kind of watch P and the team play on a small field away from the stands. Spill from the stands.

from the real game's lights illuminate the play. Cheers waft across the night air. Pei turns. Looks for the ball. The girls couldn't care less when a defender tags Britt, the QB, the boy who threw the football to P in the hallway. Kev is wrapped on the sidelines. Come on, Britt!

P, let it out, baby! Pei's team huddles. P scans the sidelines. No begs. Fourth and five. Last shot. Dizzy's chest heaves. He spits.

P adjusts his purple beanie. He tugs his shirt taught. Sorry, I need to cough that whole time. God. Safeties are playing close and center. I can't speak. Sorry. Have some water.

I'll have some, too. Safeties are playing close and center. I'll be free if I go left. Sounds good, beef. Guys, those St. John's faggots are going to blitz. Tiff, I need that juice. Dance fake and go in middle. Plug the left.

Dizzy, stop Jack. Tiffany, thick athletic girl at Britt's locker before, nods. I'll have that fat fuck nursing my dick when we're done. Moments later, they line up. P crouches, ready. Blue 4-2, blue 4-2, hype! P sprints. Dizzy mirrors and blocks Jack at the line of scrimmage.

Britt drops back in the pocket. Tiffany plants her feet and wraps her arm around Dan. She hurls him to the ground. Dizzy slips, collapsing into the dirt. Jack's free. He runs through the gap Dizzy left open. Brits sees Jack getting closer. His arm goes back to throw.

Dizzy scrambles on the ground. Lundges. His craning fingers grasp Jack's ankle. Jack tumbles. Brits free. P button hooks. The ball sails through the air. It's wide left.

Peepes, extending his arms. Got it. Fuck yeah, Pee! Pee! Runs. Safety scramble from the middle. They're too far. Touchdown. Peas cheer.

Ow! Interference. That was clean. Jack, you're l' lost. No way. He's dirty. We win. You St. John's fucks think you're owed everything. Just what we're due. You got caught. Get over it. You and your bitch. He nods at Dan.

You want to go, bitch? Kev charges onto the field. Yeah. Let's go, motherfucker you so hard. Archaeologists will think they'd be scutted and you... Fuck. One more time, please. No, no, that was perfect the way it was. Yeah, one more time to be good.

You want to go, bitch? Kev charges onto the field. Yeah, let's go, motherfucker. I'll skull fuck you so hard archaeologists will think they'd discovered a new species. St. John's team laughs. Archaeologists, man, your school's stupid. Beating your ass, though?

Kev points to the giant scoreboard above the real field. Pond hills ahead, 17 to 7. P runs over. One of the St. John's players trips him. P. Tumbles. He stands, fixing his purple bean. Damn, boy. Don't I know you from the buffet?

I've seen less jiggle on Jello. Guess there is always room. The St. John's team laughs. P looks down. His soft bellies partially exposed. His shirt rode up in the fall. He quickly yanks his shirt taut. Jack, Dan, and the St. John's team leave, cheering.

P joins Kevin Dizzy. Dizzy high fives Kev. Thanks for having my back. They ain't taking my boy's T-D away. Kev looks to Pee, beaming. That's day was sick. No way Brit gets that pass off without you. P extends his fist to Dibby.

P extends his fist to Dizzy. P extends his fist to Dizzy, but before Dizzy can bump it... But that catch, though! Could you see Pee from the ground? It was awesome, man. Dizzy dusts the grass and dirt from his clothes. P. and Kev watch as he walks away past the edge of the light, throwing middle fingers to St. John's. Exterior homecoming game nearby field moments later.

Kevin P. Walk. Dizzy earned us that win. That kid's all hard. He wouldn't have had to save it if he hadn't fallen in the first place. And Brit! Our classmate think that dude's hot shit, but it's garbage. Motherfuckers never thrown an on-target pass ever. The team owes you the victory.

You! You deserve that shit. Fuck those St. John's butt puppets. P.I's Kev. Kev kicks a small rock deep into the night. Pondale for life, bitches! Kev tilts to see the stadium lights. P. studies him.

Next year, we'll settle in the real game. You gonna play? Maybe. Maybe. You'd be a starting receiver as a freshman. Who knows how many touchdowns you'd score? Everyone would revere you. Peace silent.

He steals a glance at Kev. What's your deal? Seriously. Deep breath. My parents are making me apply to schools for next year. Kev slowly stops. And if I get in anywhere, I'll be gone. You want to go?

You kidding me? Not unless you go. They are the St. John's eighth graders laughing. Ugh, God, my dad would cream if I got into St. John's. Over my dead body, though. I told the St. John's interviewers that I don't fit in in an all-boys joint, and that religion has no place in school, and then I quoted Jesus saves. Slayer? You quoted those religious fucks Slayer?

I tanked the interviews at every school, dude. You're such a bro dude. The whistle blows. Half-time. Shit. I told my dad I'd find him before halftime. Want me to come with? Kev's silent. I don't get it. When I see him, he's super nice to me, and then he yells because you're on the phone with me

and all the other shit you tell me, he says. What'd have to change for that asshole to like me? Kev laughs bitterly. He walks away singing Metallica's disposable heroes. You will do what I say, when I say, back to the front. Exterior homecoming game stands, short time later. Peelocates his parents in the stands. Dad nods at the field.

Could be you next year. Girls love football players. Hopefully, you'll be on the other side, though. I just scored a touchdown with the guys, but St. John's jerks pulled BS and said it didn't count. Don't hide behind excuses. Leave an opening, and your opponents will find a way to crawl out. Seal the deal.

Girls love football players. I wanted to play football. Sweat, passion, the guys. Girls love rock stars, too. If they play real music. Pea looks down. He sees Beck's head toward the concessions. Need drinks? Corn dogs? Terry? Pea's mom pulls out a crisp $20 bill. She shuffles through other 20s until she finds the most wrinkled one.

She hands it to P, saving the crisp one. P nods to Dad. Frito Pie, make sure they slather the chili and cheese I don't want to be able to see underneath. And a soda bucket. They got Big Red? Really? The hell's wrong with Big Red. Pete turns to Mom. Course, please. How about a cream soda?

Harris, go with him for the beer. Bex is halfway to the concessions alone. I want to make it easy on you both. Wouldn't you prefer a cream soda? Mom opens her wallet. I'll put this 20 away. Moments later, P and Dad head toward the concession stand. Christine's wedding is Sunday.

If you need to get clothes or anything tomorrow for the dance... I get a date, I'll let you know. Chad, you know, his uncle grown up, he couldn't find anyone to take the dances at your age. Not in high school either. Could have had anyone, too, running back. Good looking that guy. Wasn't until much later he found people he jibed with, like him. Get what I mean? I'm a loser and I won't find anyone until I'm older. No, what? This guy was... Dad looks around, then leans in close. He's, uh, he likes... I like girls. I like girls. Of course, of course. I was just checking in. Not that there would be anything wrong with

you didn't like girls. It's the 90s. You can be anything these days. I don't mean to stop you. Yeah, when you lean in, can you give me more of a quiet voice? Yeah. He's, he's a, he's lying there. So start for the top of five. Yeah, don't wake the baby voice. And just say too on the of course, of course, of course I was just checking in. It's like, thank you God, thank you God, thank you God, Gotcha. He's a... He likes... I like girls, dad.

Of course, of course. I was just checking in. Not that there would be anything wrong if you didn't like girls. It's the 90s. You can be anything these days. Up ahead, P can just make out the back of Bex's head. I guess it's not so bad going stagg.

Plenty of unbridled fillies around. Jesus Christ, fillies? Yeah, fillies. What do you call them? Chicks? What about her? Dad points out a thin girl. High school. Freshman? Junior. Her. He points out a more age-appropriate, but even thinner girl. Not for me. She thinks metal sucks.

That music's holding you back. Her. Dad points out the thinnest girl yet, a cheerleader. That's literally the varsity cheerleading captain. Really? That's short? Taken? Preston Jacobs? Makes sense.

QBs always get the girls. Muscular, but not too muscular. Handsome. Must be a DNA thing. You ever see an ugly quarterback? And they're never fat. Another benefit of playing. Pea tugs the corners of his shirt, Taught.

Bex is just ahead. Pei. Pei wheels. Mr. Welch approaches with a large covered box. Rough break yesterday. I shouldn't have spoken so openly in front of the class. Seen Becks around? It's okay. And, uh, no. Well, I doubt she's hiding.

Okay, got to finish setting up the, uh, half-time surprise. He motions to the box he carries. Hope you enjoy. Mr. Richards? Welch nods and smiles at Dad, then leaves. Dr. Richards, you uncouth fuck. I'd bet money that St. John's make sure their teachers know the station of their student's parents. Who's Bex?

Bex? Beck's Dad. You know who she is. So what's the deal? Nothing. I just got to apologize. Dad sighs. You got to be courteous to women.

Be a mensch, right? Dad points out different thin girls. Any one of these could be yours. You just got to act right. Dad spots a larger girl from behind buying cotton candy. He doesn't recognize her. He chuckles and points with his thumb. Some are easier to get than others.

He follows Dad's thumb to see Bex buying cotton candy. He quickly avert his gaze, focusing on a large locust shell on the ground. He scratches his whisker. Almost forgot. Bex is gone. Pei looks around. She's nowhere. Happy belated birthday.

Mom insisted on the ridiculous ribbon. Dad hands Pee something. P looks upward at him. Exterior homecoming game short time later. Pease face turns scanning for Bax. He walks past the concessions, past the restrooms, past the restrooms, past everywhere. She's vanished. Sying, P turns around. Bex is right behind him. Jesus Christ! Pei jerks, Dr. Pepper sloshing out of his cup and onto his hand. Beck's smiles.

I've been shadowing you for five minutes. Worth it. She peers around him as he regains his wits. No, Kav? He's with his dad. My condolences to both of them. You'd like him if you got to know him. Yes, I've always thought that. P laughs. Can I have some of your cotton candy? Can I have some of your Dr. Pepper? They swap. She makes a face. Is this diet? Pea nods. Bex shrugs it off, drinks again. So, I've been tailing your ass. Who we looking for?

You. Bex turns the cup vertical and drains the soda. She holds it above her mouth so that pee can watch the last drops fall in. Now I'm sad we're alone. You've been doing such a great job humiliating yourself in front of people. That's nothing new. Mom still talks about Retroplex. Just your mom?

Oh, I do too. And my dad and my sisters, some cousins. Haven't been to a water park since. Peace Miles. He looks at the bright stadium lights in the distance. His face shifts. What? Just wondering if I'll ever have lights like that shining on me.

Aren't you planning to play next year? I mean the band. You know what Talca played to 1.6 million people in Russia? Pantara played earlier in the day, and their crowd was over 500,000. They're from here and they played to over over. over half a million fans going bat shit for their music. What was that song you wrote me in fifth grade? Sunshine Heart. Beck smiles.

I just wanted to see if you still remembered. I thought I'd forget? It's not fifth grade anymore. You know what I remember most about Wetroplex? Bex looks at him like he's a dumbass. Shitting your swimsuit on the lazy river and then duck walking with an inner tube stuck in your ass so your suit wouldn't fall off?

No one else would have laughed with me. I mean, no one else would have made me laugh. Their eyes meet, connected. They look deep into each other. The moment's suddenly intimate, close, and raw. I missed you. P pushes his purple beanie up. He puts a knee on the ground, raises the cotton candy like a proposal.

Will you go to the dance with me? Bex is shocked. You can't use my cotton candy? P stands, returns the cotton candy. Boom. A lone firework explodes painting the sky. Whoa. Mr. Welch's surprise.

Boom, boom, boom, more fireworks. The glow paints their faces. Peas eyes, naked and deep, connect with Bex's. I think you feel sometimes you're the only one who knows how special you are. Not when we were friends. Boom, boom, boom, boom. Okay. The dance?

Okay. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. The finale of the fireworks. They burst in aggressive. of beauty, P overjoyed, screams excitedly into me here. P? P turns. Kev is clearly worse for where after his dad.

He might have been crying. Thank God. I thought I was going to find you with fucking Bex again. Fucking Bex, huh? Beck steps from behind P. Kev's face drains. He looks like he's been punched. He hurries away.

I take it you didn't mention this. Yeah. Seven tomorrow? If that shit's squared by then. Moments later Boom The last few fireworks ignite as Kev stomps ahead It's not what you think

Hey, it's not what you think Kev strides forward without turning Yeah? Well every time I turn my back For a fucking second you run to her You're my best friend man, swear Kev stops closes his eyes P catches up Just tell me man

The truth, tell me Pea nervously stammer's What? We're just friends Do you even like me anymore? Peep breathes again, relieved. Of course. Kev laughs bitterly, stomps forward. Can't even be honest with me.

Did your dad fuck you up? Kev wheels on him, eyes ringed red. I love her, dude! I love her, okay? I told you, when we're 18, I'll find a way for you to meet Carla. Bex, man! Bex! Kev storms toward their classmates ahead.

Pea, dazed, follows. Bex? You think I'm stupid? Just friends. my ass fucking palling it up with her like old times. You're going to be best friends forever, and I'm not going to have either of you. Well, jokes on her because you're chasing me and she's alone. They reached their classmates, passing around a soda bucket, a 96-ounce cup with a handle and lid.

James offers P the bucket. Beer fee? I'll have some. You fuck thus, bro. Just give me the fucking beer. Peer nods at James. James gives Kev the bucket. Going to the dance tomorrow, Pee?

Taking two breakfast becks. Pea's head snaps towards Zach. The whole group of boys erupts in laughter. Kev stares at the ground. Can you imagine? P. going with double-quarter pounder with cheese McDonald? Every dance would be a slow dance. Maybe it's true.

You guys were best friends forever. Peep pulls down as Purple Beanie tries to play a cool. As if. Caught you alone with her twice today. P.I.'s Kev hurt. A moment of guilt. Then Kev steals himself. James Hans Kev, the cup of beer.

Classmates laugh and holler. Kev tilts his head back, drinks, moonlight and floodlights paint Pease's face different hues. Interior Dizzy's room later that night, blue, red, white, yellow light flickers on Peas face. Bearknuckle 3, the import version of Streets of Rage 3, a video game, on the TV. The boss, a ridiculous gay stereotype named Ash,

enters the fight. Pea's purple-beenie-framed face focuses intently on ashes. Ash is heavily muscled. Black goatee, purple cop hat, black legless leotard, green stockings that end mid thigh, and women's knee-high heeled boots. A large gold women's symbol medallion hangs from Ash's neck.

P plays as blaze fielding. Badass female cop in all red, miniskirt, boots, crop top. You slip, that's all I'm saying. I'm sure you could see everything I did wrong from the sidelines. P tries to ignore them. On screen, he expertly kept. counters Ash's prancing kicks. Ash laughs effeminently.

My stomach hurts. Kev walks past Dizzy. He covertly rummages in his pillowcase, removes something. He exits. You're right. The import version of this game is the shit. Dizzy lowers his car magazine and watches the screen.

I kick this faggots ass like every day. Blaze wins. Ash lies on the ground and sits up, sobbing. Outside, a car starts and drives off. P pauses the game, freezing Ash on the ground, mid-cry. Your mom's leaving this late? Dizzy stares at the window even after the curtain goes dark. My dad would have gotten a kick out of him.

He hates Homo's. You can fight him now if you want. P stands. puts the purple grape tootsie pop in his mouth. Dizzy raises the magazine. Maybe later, if the mood hits. Give me a Coke, too. Not Coke.

Interior hallway moments later, P closes Dizzy's door. The bathroom door opens. Kev pulls him inside. Interior bathroom continuous. Pea surprised. It doesn't smell bad. Thought your stomach was fucked up. Kev hands pee a penthouse magazine, August 1994.

A black and white photo of a beautiful dark-haired woman on the cover. You did take it. Kev, angry, takes a breath to calm himself. This is a peace offering. I was going to show it to you anyway, but I'm showing you now, so... Listen, Vex... You want to look at this? Pea shakes his head. Kev takes the magazine.

Kev listens at the door, no. Dizzy. He removes a box of Q-tips and a large bottle of hand soap from under the sink. Hold this. He hands Pee a white first-aid kit with a big red cross. He pushes the magazine deep in the cabinet, replaces the other items, and shuts

the door. Coming back? Peh shakes his head. Grab Dizzy a drink. Kev leaves. P assesses his purple beanieed reflection in the mirror. Pulls his shirt taut. He twists his arm, looking for definition. He examines his lone whisker.

It's starting to sprout. Minutes later, P's eyes peer out from behind the penthouse. First aid kit and other items on the counter. He idly rubs his lone chin hair and examines the magazine, flips through, stops at a pictorial with a man and a woman. Pee examines the images almost scientifically, almost confused. Quickly flipping through, he suddenly stops, captivated by two women kissing.

Debbie and Drahixa. His face changes. He crunches through the last bit of purple shell on the grape tootsie pop, finally reaching the center. He gazes at the two women kissing, his face soft, his eyes intense, searching. No lust. Peh shakes his arm, extending and curling his fingers. He turns the page delicately, attention-wrapped,

his world existing only within the two women's glossy, paged fantasy. Interior, Dizzy's room short while later. P returns to find Dizzy and Kev wrestling, on the floor. Kev locks in a sleeper hold on Dizzy. Dizzy's face reddens as he struggles. Finally, he taps Kev. Matte, Matte. Oh, fuck. Kev releases. He opens a sweating sprite, drinks. Start son-in-law, bitch. Dizzy reluctantly opens the coke that Keb brought him. No. Wrestling for it was your suggestion. You're going to welch now? I don't want to see that stupid movie again. Back to the future. Fucking please. In less than 10 hours, I get to ride in a

Delorian. Of all the cool cars in the world, I'd pick the Delorian to ride in first. And for once, I'm going to get what I want. And I want to be hyped as fuck. Bro, no one cares about that busted-ass car outside of you and P. It looks like an industrial fridge with a windshield. It sucks. Bro, I won. I want to watch Son-in-law. I don't get to marry Carla in 10 hours. You know how much I care about her? Let me have this. She's the girl of my dreams, the person I do anything to spend my life with. No one else comes close. She'll be an amazing mother. You know, when we get married...

Wake up. She's famous. She's a fucking movie star and you're nobody. You never will be. Damn it. Get over it. Fuck you! I'm so fucking sick and tired of hearing you complain all the time like a bitch.

I slipped at the game. I slipped. Bitch, at least I wasn't playing cheerleader on the sidelines. Fuck you and fuck Carla. You can't always get what you want. Dizzy crashes out of the room with the door slamming behind him. Fuck!

Dude, what the... The door flies open. Why the fuck am I leaving? This is my fucking room. Y'all motherfuckers leave. Get the fuck out. Now. Dizzy storms over kicking the ground under their legs.

Get the fuck out. Dizzy turns the TV back to Bear Nuckle 3. The game still paused. The effeminate ash frozen mid-sob. Dizzy snatches the controller as P. and Kev shuffle out. He kicks the door shut. Interior, Dizzy's garage moments later. P and Kev enter. The air is heavy.

P sits with his guitar. He idly plays it as is. No amp. Dizzy should focus on his love life. Not yours. Kev slowly slides down the wall until he reaches the floor. Play something. P flips the amp on, clean channel. Neck pickup. He plays a melancholic, somewhat bluesy lick.

Kev closes his eyes. Guitar fills the room with a shared pain. Kev flips off the ceiling light, toggles the string lights lining the room. The warm glow offers barely more light than candles or a Christmas tree. Kev picks up his bass, turns on his amp. He plucks a single, rumbling, sustained note. He plays off Pee, driving the rhythm and weaving a harmony around P's notes.

Kev's groove in place. P plays a slow, sorrowful lead line. Kev adds chords as P. in and out of rhythm and lead. Their eyes connect. The way that only can happen with music. P nods slowly at Kev, whose mouth twists slightly. P kicks to the distortion channel.

They play, charged, more complex than during practice. This sound intricate, thoughtful, and their own. Building to a furiously beautiful climax, they hit their final notes in unison. Kev leans back. shadows covering part of his face. Dad took my CDs. You hung up at nine. Same difference.

At least he only got the wallet. Back on Clean Channel. P plays softly. You're not Dave Mustaine, you know. No. Bex was. I'm Kirk. Well, he's still a Metallica, yeah?

You like Megadeth more than Metallica. Look, I get it. I overreacted. My bad, bro. Just no more Bex tonight, okay? P nods. Few moments later. How did you know Yentel?

Kev chuckles quietly. My aunt told me that one of my parents' last attempts at patching things up was weekly date nights. This was when I was almost two. So they went to Yentel because my dad's an idiot and doesn't know shit about movies. Made way through, my mom turns to my dad and tells him she wants to divorce. He stands up in the middle of the theater, yelling like an asshole. You've heard him. People are screaming at him to shut the fuck up.

They had to stop the movie. Now they're on their way back to the car. My mom hasn't said anything since she said she wanted to get divorced. He finally asks her why, and she says, I can't be myself with you. Peace studies Kev's face as he plays. I wish I knew what she meant, when she wanted to be. But she died the next year.

I watch Yentel a lot. Never asked your aunt? She moved back to Japan. Dad won't give me her number. Kev leans into the light. Shadow King could be great, you know. That shit just now? People would die for us. We'd be all over the radio.

You'd imagine looking out from the stage, knowing every single person there is with you. Feeling what you feel. Thinking we're gods? Kev's baseline sounds similar to Nirvana. After a moment. Kurt fucked me up, man. How can you give that shit up? The adoration, the recognition, he had everything.

Still, like you said in Sentless Apprentice, You can't fight me because I quit. They could fight him. If he walked out, they could still go beat him up. Curfucked me up, man. How can you give that shit up? The adoration? The recognition?

He had everything. Still, like he said in Sentinless Apprentice, you can't fire me because I quit. Fucking rock star move. Now they talk about his genius more than when he was alive. P stops playing. He tugs at his purple beanie. Kev's bass provides a dark, minor key warmth.

He hurt, man. I mean, you can laugh with your friends or play music toward the world. toward the world of anything. Everything's good then. In those moments, the good moments, the pain goes away until you remember it. And then in the moments between the laughs,

you remember it. And then you can't remember how to forget it. You can wish you were someone else, anywhere else, but that's not possible. So you push it back inside and keep it there. And eventually that's all that's left. There was something beautiful once, but now it doesn't exist, because there's

no more space to hold it. Welcome to every night at my house. Pease soft cords ring out as he speaks. When I was four, I wanted a cabbage patch kid more than anything. So Christmas morning, I'm tweaking not knowing which one I'll get because I've seen neighborhood kids with all these cool ones, like different hair, different clothes, all these colors and hair styles. My friend Sarah had this girl with an orange jacket and sneakers,

and my next-door neighbor, Emily, had one with, like, big red hair. All them were so bright and exciting and wonderful. So I'm eye-fucking this big wrapped box under the tree while my parents made coffee, then my grandparents had to have breakfast is killing me. I don't think we got to presents till like 10.30. Dude. No, I know.

Finally, I unwrap it, and there it is. Brown hair, blue overalls, blue checkered shirt. I think he had a red hat maybe, but I lost it. I hated him. Why would anyone choose him? He was boring, ugly. But I didn't want to be ungrateful because I wanted a cabbage patch kid so bad and I got one. My mom said my dad had gone all around town and found the last boy doll in town, so I pretended I loved it.

But every time I looked at it, I knew it could have been better. But that's not what I was given. That was the first time I remember feeling the gray. It was like I didn't know if the sun still existed. Even though it was out, everything was just cold. Like I'd forgotten what warmth was, and I didn't know how to remember the sun. Maybe Kurt couldn't remember either. Maybe all he knew was cold.

You got to know warmth to feel the sun. Write that down. The last thing? Right now. Sick fucking lyric. The folder's in the room. Keb looks around, nothing. P sees a notebook by the drum kid.

Oh, Dizzy's notebook. Kev rips out a sheet of paper, hands it to P. Interior Dizzy's room short time later. P returns, with a glass of water. Dizzy and Kev begrudgingly coexist. They're on the floor, not close, but not separate. Partially eaten Bontet on plates, almost like a burrito.

The tube of rice rests on the banana leaves. The pork is in the middle surrounded by a layer of beans and then of rice. They watch Naked Gun 33 and a third. Kev's eyes stay on the screen. Every so often, Dizzy's eyes drift to Kev. P. gets a CD wallet and a yellow sports discman from his bag. On the bunk, he removes a disc with a white skeletal spiral. He adjusts headphones around his purple beanie.

Nine-inch nails eraser starts, insects or aliens playing instruments made of straws until the drums start pounding. P. Gays is at Anna Nicole Smith on the TV. Curvy, beautiful. He carefully takes out Dad's gift. Two sealed envelopes tied with a bizarre ribbon. Guitars alternating with the classic Groucho Marx

black glasses, big nose mustache disguise. First letter is from Green Tree Prep. Second is St. John's. Green Tree first. We regret to inform. P exhales in relief. Jagged guitars crashing. The song's vocals start.

Need you, dream you, find you, taste you, fuck you, use you, scar you, break you. P quietly and meticulously peels open the St. John's letter. Trembling, he unfolds the paper and reads, Congratulations. He closes his eyes slowly, deep breath. Scans further, the panel was particularly impressed by your distinct candor and courage

that confirmed you are St. John's material above any other factor. The song continues. Lose me, hate me, smash me, erase me. Pea's eyes dart above the letter to his friends. Kevin Dizzy both laugh at the movie. Resentment fades, smiles turn real. The song echoes Pei's thoughts.

Kill me, kill me, kill me. Kev blissfully eats the Vontet, motions P to push his headphones back. We'll have them out of our feet, dude. Pee weekly smiles. He puts the headphones on. Eraser continues. Kill me, kill me, kill me. End act two.

Everybody. Yeah.