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Actually It Is Drama
Setting: Restaurant with a long table, folded napkins to the right and forks atop them at the right of each napkin. To the right, there are circular plates. Chairs are aligned perfectly corresponding with each plate, a person taking up each seat. There are ten people on each side of the table, and one person on each ‘width’ of the table.
Enter: Martin, 12, Greedy, Fat British
Enter: BUTLER, advisory to the rich Martin, British and Blunt
BUTLER: Sir, what does your heart pleasure. Ask and you will be provide.
Martin: Give me all the food!
BUTLER: As you wish, master. (leaves and gets food)
Enter: Bradley, 12, normal boy, polite, struggling into the room with a wounded knee after being hit by a bus. He is crawling and finds Martin first.
Bradley: You mind helping me?
Martin: Get lost ya filthy animal!
Bradley: (grabbing knee) Please. I need help. Can you call an ambulance or something?
Martin: No. Get lost! (kicks Bradley)
BUTLER: Here is your food, sir.
Martin (to Bradley): What, this is a joke? Get lost!
BUTLER (now looking sternly down): What is this little boy doing on the floor?
Martin: (digging into the stake that the Butler gave him): I don’t know. The little s*** won’t get lost.
BUTLER: Well, help ‘im up! Your dad and I told you many times not too be disrespectful to those less fortunate than you.
Martin: No. He’s just a filthy animal!
Enter: DAD, 20s or 30s, running back with a full plate from the buffet
DAD (taking a seat): What’s going on here?
BUTLER: It seems there is a suffering boy on the ground here. (Points to Bradley)
DAD (chewing meat): Well, did anyone help him?
BUTLER: I’m afraid not. It seems that Martin is continuing his selfish lifestyle.
BUTLER (to Bradley): It appears that you are in need of assistance. Will you be requiring a docto’ of some sort?
DAD (to Butler, yelling): Well, what the hell do you think? Huh? Here there is a dying man, and you’re questioning his medical necessities?
BUTLER (poking Bradley with a fork): It appears that the suffering boy is not responding to this fork. Perhaps…
DAD (yelling): Oh, great! The boy’s dead. And you know who is to blame? You!
BUTLER: I can assure you that it is not my fault. I was hoping your boy whom you have raised so well would help him up.
DAD (yelling): What the hell could he do? Huh? He doesn’t have the decency to help others. As the adult in the situation, you should be the one to assist him!
Martin (to DAD): I’m only twelve, ye know. You can’t expect me to do everything right.
DAD (to Martin): You know what? You’re right. (to BUTLER) Even the kid knows he isn’t perfect and yet you insist it is his fault! (to Martin) I know you ain’t perfect, but ya gotta eventually learn to have some human decency. That said, five months grounded.
DAD (to Martin): That’s the least I could give you. you just let a guy die! (to Butler) And as for you, I require a better mentor for Martin then you. You’re fired!
Martin: I‘m sorry. (begging guilty eyes)
BUTLER: **** you! (Walks out of the restaurant)
FADES TO BLACK