"The Purchase" 
            By, Dave Ulrich

                                        Lights up.

                                        Sam is standing center.

                                   SAM
            I bought a gun today.

                                        SAM looks off distractedly. He anxiously twiddles his
                                        fingers on his leg. His eyes are off in the wings as if
                                        unable to face the audience.

                                   SAM (CONT'D)
            Yeah.

                                        SAM starts to speak, but catches himself mid-breath.

                                        A beat.

                                   SAM (CONT'D)
            It's not that... I'm not... you know -- mad. I guess.

                                        He turns his head toward the audience, almost
                                        accidentally at first, but since he's there, he stops.

                                        He studies the crowd almost with contempt.

                                   SAM (CONT'D)
            But you make it really hard, you know that? It's disgusting.
            I get... disgusted. I don't understand the point anymore.
            There's a line, I've seen it, and the other side isn't pretty
            -- but at least it's true.

                                        He pulls the gun from the back of his shirttail.

                                   SAM (CONT'D)
            I bought this today.

                                        He studies it.

                                   SAM (CONT'D)
            I bought it, because I'm sick -- sick to see it all. The
            foolishness, the mindless nature of the majority. And I'm
            sick of the selfishness most of all. I get so tired of the
            stupid voter, religious freaks, the elitists, the snobs, the
            assholes who would rather make a job of bugging me for my pay
            than even try to make their own. I'm sick of the passionate --
            and worse: the dispassionate. The activists and the roll over
            defeatists. I'm sick of the fucking people who buy these
            goddamn things,
                          (indicating the gun)
            and don't even do it right. And I'm sick of you. And I don't
            even know who you are.

                                        A beat as he looks away.

                                   SAM (CONT'D)
            It was a stabbing in the back of my neck, high, like in
            the... you know, the...
                          (touching the back of his neck)
            ... brain stem. And when I crossed the line and saw it all
            clear... it just became warmth. Like a fever, but my head had
            never been more clear. And when you're ready to die because
            this life is so pointless a parade -- why not take others
            with you? Why not make people pay? I look at my life and
            where it falls short and all the things I'm made to believe I
            lack... yet even with those things, I'd still fall short of
            finding this life bearable. What are we supposed to do? "Make
            it?" We'll just run out of things to buy and get fucked by
            anyone we try to love, because that's what love does... fucks
            you.
                          (changes tone)
            Or what happens if you find yourself fifty-something and
            still trying? Unqualified for anything but answering phones
            and brewing coffee... How do you smile when the years start
            sliding off the board like fish guts under a blade, yet
            inside you still feel exactly like that seventeen year-old
            kid you once were -- who swore to grab the moon and live
            forever? What happens when you realize just how unoriginal we
            all are?

                                        He points the gun down the aisle of the house.

                                   SAM (CONT'D)
            Well, you snap. You stop caring. And that recolors the world.
            You suddenly look at Hitler, Kim, Atta... and you think: Oh.
            Oh, I get it. And then you react. You give orders, start
            production, crash the plane. Or you take a first step. Make a
            purchase.

                                        He looks at the gun almost lovingly.

                                   SAM (CONT'D)
            I bought this today.

                                        He looks up as a smile spreads across his face.

                                        BLACKOUT.
            THE END

"The Purchase" debuted at No Shame Theater (Los Angeles) April 11, 2003,

SAM - Chris Clarke

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