Romans

Sam, a popular Broadway producer paces back and forth in Greg’s (an aspiring playwright) apartment.

Sam:
Cook-cook me up a good story.

Greg:
Well what do you want?

Sam:
I want a story- a good story.

Greg:
Yeah- a good story- what kind of good story?

Sam:
What do I look like- a Hollywood producer? I want a great good story.

Greg:
Give me something to go on here- a good story-

Sam:
A great good story- gotta be great.

Greg:
Fine- okay- a great good story. I need something to go-

Sam:
Jesus Christ kid go on your instincts- you’re a writer- just write.

Greg:
Okay well tell me this- this should be easy-

Sam:
I don’t want to answer any questions- just write kid.

Greg:
Should be easy for you- one question okay?

Sam:
Fine. Fire away.

Greg:
Okay- do you want this story-

Sam:
Great story.

Greg:
Great story-

Sam:
Great good story.

Greg:
This great good story- to be a tragedy or a comedy?

Sam:
What do you mean? I don’t know what the fuck you mean. What the fuck do you mean?

Greg:
Do you want Marlon Brando or Charlie Chaplin- Laurence Oliver or Jerry Lewis?

Sam:
Fuck- I think all of them are hacks- all actors are hacks- writers too if you want the truth.

Greg:
I don’t think you get the question.

Sam:
That’s because I’m not supposed to think- I’m just supposed to come in here and tell you one thing-

Greg:
Yeah- I know but-

Sam:
To write a story- a good story.

Greg:
A great good story.

Sam:
Bingo. Now where talking the same language. You want me to leave you with it?

Greg:
Just tell me- Hamlet or Midsummer’s Night Dream?

Sam:
I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

Greg:
Are you kidding?

Sam:
I never kid- I never even was a kid. What the fuck are you talking about?

Greg:
I was about to ask you the same question.

Sam:
What? About the Ham and the Dream?

Greg:
I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore.

Sam:
I believe you where promising me that the story was going to be great.

Greg:
I can’t promise anything.

Sam:
I don’t care what you can and cannot do- except write of course- if you can write right- then you’re alright.

Greg:
Did you mean to do that?

Sam:
Do what?

Greg:
Never mind.

Sam:
Listen kid- I’ve gotta get out of here- I gotta life to live- I can’t sit in here and be your writing coach- you have my instructions and you have my advance- which has now become your advance- so what more do you need?

Greg:
I’ve told you what I need- I need guidelines- just so that I get start the goddamn thing.

Sam:
What goddamn thing? Oh the grood story.

Greg:
The what?

Sam:
Tired of call it great and good- just figured I’d combine them- what do you think? Nifty eh?

Greg:
Yeah- that’s great-

Sam:
Grood!

Greg:
Yeah- wait. Whatever- do you want this-

Sam:
Grood.

Greg:
This- grood story to be happy or sad?

Sam:
However you see it- you’re the writer.

Great:
Yeah I know I’m the writer- but I can’t go just the word-

Sam:
Grood?

Greg:
No- not grood goddammit- on just the word story.

Sam:
Sure you can. When you think of the word story what comes to mind?

Greg:
Romans.

Sam:
What? Romans? What the fuck are you talking about?

Greg:
You said whatever came to mind when I hear the word story and that’s what I think of- Romans.

Sam:
What- are you a fruit or something? You can’t write a goddamn story about Romans.

Greg:
Well why the fuck not? What’s the difference to you?

Sam:
Look just no Romans- the people don’t want Romans.

Greg:
How do you know what the people want?

Sam:
Hey kid- don’t take that tone with me- I invented the people- I am the people.

Greg:
You’re a loon- a basket case. I’ve been giving a writing assignment by a goddamn bedlamite.

Sam:
Hey- what the fuck did you just call me?

Greg:
I called you nuts because you’re nuts.

Sam:
Look kid- I’m about to snatch that down advance right out from under you- you want that?

Greg:
I don’t know what I want- I want you to leave.

Sam:
What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve been trying to leave here for the past ten minutes- you don’t throw me out- I fucking throw myself out you writer fruitcake!

Greg:
Don’t forget to pick up you’re marbles.

Sam:
And when I come back here in a week- if you hand me a story about some Roman fags or Jesus or some shit- I will crucify you upside down in Times Square buddy.

Greg:
Don’t let the door hit you on your ass on your way out.

Sam leaves. Greg is left alone with his typewriter and a big grin on his face.

Greg:
Gotta be a comedy.