Characters

“Not Reggie” – The main character, a lonely businessman who’s contemplating suicide.

X – A mysterious and silly person who disturbs the life of “Not Reggie”, preventing him from killing himself. Might be magic. Cannot be played by someone that can pass as a prepubescent white girl; can be anyone besides a combination of those three qualities. Always smiles, always sounds happy.

 

Setting: The play takes place entirely within “Not Reggie’s” small apartment. A small table is sitting in the middle of the stage, where a chair is seated. “Not Reggie” keeps a bottle of sleeping pills in his pocket. If the budget allows, have a fake wall with a door in it that does not look like a door as the backdrop.

 

“NOT REGGIE”

            (Wakes up in chair.)

Crap, crap, crap! What’s the time? Oh, thank god… I can afford another 30 minutes.

            (Falls asleep, wakes up incredibly abruptly.)

Why did I do that!? Shit, what’s the time, what’s the time? Only 6:50? Looks like today’s shaping up to be pretty good!

            (Exits stage right, running.)

            (Five seconds pass.)

            (Walks in, sits at the chair, stairs into space.)

I did not know people could be allergic to wheat.

            (Reaches into pocket, puts hand against head as if talking into a phone.)

Oh hello, Mr. Debussy.

Yes, yes, I know I’m fired.

Can I at least get back my rubber ducky?

Well, I don’t think he really told you that.

Because rubber ducks don’t talk.

Yes, I am talking back to you.

I understand, yes.

I’m very sorry about your mother, she lived a very long life. If her funeral is ever rescheduled, I’ll make sure to ask permission first before I come.

Well, at least he didn’t have to spend much time away from his wife.

I’m sorry, but I can’t really get all that guilty when you yell at me because you’re nothing more than the theoretical conversation I’ll be having with the real Mr. Debussy when he does inevitably call.

Uh huh, goodbye. Beeeep.

            (Puts hand back in pocket.)

            (Pulls out bottle of pills. Begins unscrewing.)

Well life, I can’t really say it’s been nice knowing you, but… Sorry, I don’t have nothing kind to say.

Well, goodbye cruel world…

Wait! A will! I need to write a will.

Oh, right, never mind, forgot about that, I’m good.

This time for real, GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD!

            (Shoves hand to mouth.)

Huh?

X

            (Barges into the room from the fake wall or enters stage left.)

            (Shouting.)

Looking… for these?

            (Shows a handful of pills in their hand.)

“NOT REGGIE”

Wait, did I kill myself already?

Hey, are you the Grim Reaper?

            (Glances around.)

Is this hell? Because if so, I must say, it’s a lot less exciting than I thought it would be. Not a lot of torture in sight, not a lot of fire and brimstone.

X

            (Shouting.)

No, no, and yes, because life is hell, and you. Are. Aliiiiiiiiiiive!

“NOT REGGIE”

Well, assuming you’re telling the truth, could you quiet down a bit, I’m trying to kill myself.

Speaking of which, could you hand me those sleeping pills? I’m really comfy right now, and if I had to get up it would just take forever to get back in this position.

X

            (No longer shouting.)

I shall quiet myself, for your sake,

            (Suddenly shouting.)

RRRRRRRRRRRREGIIIIIIIIIE!

“NOT REGGIE”

My name’s not Reggie.

X

Then hello, “Not Reggie”, my name is-

            (X flails their arms, finally crossing their arms into a cross shape.)

X! Because I’m a variable, always changing. Heck, just thirty minutes ago I wasn’t even a twelve-year-old white girl!

As for your request, brahski, I cannot give you these sleeping pills.

“NOT REGGIE”

Oh come on, why not? You barge into my apartment without my permission, walked right through that solid wall, which had to have caused some sort of property damage, and now you won’t even let me die!

X

Oh, no, I have no problem letting you die.

            (Pulls a meat cleaver out.)

I’m just not letting you do it to yourself.

            (“Not Reggie” jumps out of the chair and runs to the edge of stage right.)

By the way, would you prefer being dismembered in the order arms, legs, head, or legs, head, arms?

“NOT REGGIE”

            (Shouting.)

Put that knife away, I… I have a gun!

X

            (Speaks in an especially merry voice, slowly approaches.)

Perfect! First we’ll blow you your kneecaps off, then put a couple shots in your collar bone, and badabing, badaboom, we’ll finish you off with gaping hole in the back of the head! That’s in my top ten favorite ways to die, right up there with being eaten by fire-ants after being paralyzed. Ah, Toronto.

“NOT REGGIE”

            (Still shouting.)

Don’t take a step further!

X

            (Stops.)

Oh, why? I can’t really kill you that cleanly from all that way over here.

“NOT REGGIE”

            (Still shouting.)
I’m not going to let you kill me!

X

            (Reels in confusion. Still sounds happy.)

Ah, but why nooooot? I thought you wanted to die? Did you find some sort of newfound passion for life after I talked about my top ten list?

“NOT REGGIE”

            (Stops shouting.)

I don’t want to die in general, I want to kill myself.

X

Wait.

Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait, wait, wait; wait.

Wait, so you’re telling me you want to be dead… But you’re not okay with being murdered?

“NOT REGGIE”

            (Exasperated.)

I mean, yeah? Obviously? I want to die on my terms.

X

Alright, I might have come on too strong, how about I just force these sleeping pills down your throat and force you to swallow?

“NOT REGGIE”

The problem isn’t your methods, the problem is I don’t want you to kill me. Just give me back my pills.

X

You know what? No. I come in here, offer my services in killing you so you don’t have to do it yourself, heck, I’d even dispose of your body afterwards, which I doubt you considered having done, and you reject all my offers? I don’t even know why you’re going to kill yourself, so say goodbye to these pills.

“NOT REGGIE”

What the hell, give me those pills! It’s my life, I get to choose how it ends, and it ends with my unconscious body suffocating.

X

Well, if you want your pills back so bad, tell me why you want to kill yourself.

“NOT REGGIE”

I’m a millennial, pills please.

X

Not a good enough reason! Plenty of millennials out there tricking themselves that they don’t want to put a bullet in their head, how did you break that illusion.

“NOT REGGIE”

Well, I have no friends, my Dad’s dead, my Mom’s off somewhere in Siberia with her three boyfriends performing neo-classical rap-rock, I have no other living relatives that haven’t shot me, and literally every person that I work with has a horror story about me.

Now that I think about it, why did it take me this long to kill myself? Anyways, pills please.

X

Tut tut, you’ve already destroyed your own case, Not Reggie!

            (Turns to face stage left.)

Your Honor! I would like to submit to the court Exhibitionist A: Not Reggie!

            (Turns to face stage right.)

Denied, X. The precedent set in Clemsy v. Rudger-Cliff-Hensen-Fell says that all pieces of evidence must be submitted at least a week before the trial begins so that the plaintiff can disturb the evidence properly!

            (Turns to face stage left.)

But your honor!

            (Turns to face stage right.)

Sorry, X. Not today. Not Reggie, any comments?

“NOT REGGIE”

Please let me die.

X

Overruled! You have not given a reason as to why it took you this long to decide to kill yourself. Why is it that someone who has lived a life so devoid of happy connections would wait until they were as old as you are now to kill themselves? I ask you that!

“NOT REGGIE”

            (Flabbergasted.)

I don’t know? Maybe my job was fulfilling enough to make me want to keep going day after day? I’m almost definitely fired now, though.

X

Oh, so you really liked your job?

“NOT REGGIE”

Oh, hell no. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. Have you ever accidentally had a pinecone shoved up your rectum?

X

Not accidentally.

“NOT REGGIE”

Yeah, well I’ve had that happen to me three times since I started working for Mr. Debussy. I work in an office building. It’s as if reality was designed to make my job, hell, my life as awful as possible.

            (X whistles. If X cannot whistle, X says whistle a couple times.)

I mean… Right? I have no one. I don’t like anything I do. I have no hobbies, no interests, and literally the only things I own are these clothes, that chair, that table, and those pills. So, please, let me suffocate in my sleep!

X

Come on, come on, you’re coming close! Just take that final step!

“NOT REGGIE”

I’m trying.

X

I meant a logical step, you’re so close! Just a step away from figuring out why you want to commit suicide!

“NOT REGGIE”

            (Sarcastic.)

Maybe it’s because the entire universe is conspiring to drive me to suicide.

X

            (X starts clapping furiously.)

Congratulations!

            (Speak in different voice.)

Congratulations!

            (Speak in a voice different from the first two.)

Congratulations! You figured it out! The entire universe is literally designed around you killing yourself! Here are your pills back!

            (Puts the pills in “Not Reggie’s” hand.)

“NOT REGGIE”

You’re joking, right? The entire universe is not conspiring to kill me, that’s stupid!

X

Come on, think about it! No connections with anyone, a job that is defined only by how terrible it is, you don’t even have a name!

“NOT REGGIE”

Yes I do!

            (Beat.)

No, I don’t. Why don’t I have a name?

            (Places hands on table, letting the pills go.)

            (Hysterically.)

X, why don’t I have a name? What is my job? I know that I have dozens of stories of all the horrible, horrible things that have happened to me at my workplace, but I can’t recall a single one besides the pinecones! What’s my Mom’s name? Where did I go to school? X, what the hell is going on?

X

A play. A play is going on. You, and I, are in in a play, in which you try to kill yourself, and I stop you from doing so. Here, I even have the script!

            (Pulls script out.)

“NOT REGGIE”

Let me take a look at that.

            (Snatches the script from X’s hand. X pulls out another.)

            (“Not Reggie” begins pacing around the stage, reading from the script.)

“Characters, ‘Not Reggie’, the title character-”

X

That’s an old script, it should be main character, there was a typo.

“NOT REGGIE”

 “a lonely businessman who’s contemplating suicide. X, a mysterious and silly person who disturbs the life of “Not Reggie”, preventing him from killing himself. Might be magic. Cannot be played someone that can pass as a prepubescent white girl.”

            (Flips through pages.)

“Because rubber ducks don’t talk,” “Oh, no, I have no problem letting you die,” “This is impossible!”

X

Oops, read a bit ahead there.

“NOT REGGIE”

This is impossible! I can’t just be a character in a play!

X

Yes, you can, because you are. You’re like Hamlet, or Macbeth, or Henry V, completely fictional characters that never existed. You aren’t real, just a bunch of words being acted out by some actor. That’s the reason why my name is X, I can be played by anyone, literally anyone.

“NOT REGGIE”

But… but I have a life. I have a job, a boss who hates me, I’m a person! I’m going to commit suicide, because this is my life, and I will end it on my terms, because it is my life, not yours, not my bosses, not some playwright’s, mine! Give me the damn pills!

X

I already gave them to you.

            (Points to the table.)

So, I guess this is where the story ends. What, we have half a page left? Make sure to use it well, “Not Reggie”. It’s your life, as you say. I’ll let you do as you please. Wouldn’t want to hold you up from talking with Mr. Debussy, now would I? Toodles, homie.

            (X bows, and merrily skips out through the fake wall door or stage left.)

“NOT REGGIE”

Hey, where are you going?

            (Shouting.)

Where are you going? You can’t just try to trick someone into thinking they’re a fictional character like that!

            (Growing louder.)

X.

            (Beat.)

X!

            (Approaches the table, looking drained.)

It’s my life.

            (Grabs hold of some of the pills.)

My life.

            (The stage goes dark.)

            (A phone rings.)

[END]