The Day He Died
by Jacob Juntunen
For The Fox's Forest
MOM
Thank you all for coming; does anyone need more coffee? I can get a chair from the kitchen if the arm of the couch is— You’re sure? Well. I know you were concerned about the noise in my basement this morning. It’s my son, David. Um. Losing a child is so hard. I remember when John Lennon was shot. I thought, “The voice of my generation is gone.” But the voice of David’s generation, he shot himself this week, didn’t he? And so the noise this morning. You know things like this happen, but you never think it will happen to your child. You wonder, “Was it something I did?”
(David sits, dials a phone. David beeps out “Smells Like Teen Spirit” as he does so. Says, “Ring, ring.” MRS. BILLMAN answers the phone)
MRS. BILLMAN
Hello?
DAVID
Hi Mrs. Billman, this is David with Family Feature Films—
MRS. BILLMAN
Are you selling something?
DAVID
No, ma’am, we’re just calling to see how you liked the film the “Butterball Boys” you bought from us this Christmas—
MRS. BILLMAN
Well, I don’t want to be rude, but my kids didn’t like it at all—
DAVID
Oh, but they’re not supposed to like it.
MRS. BILLMAN
They ran over it with their bikes. Broke it into a million—
DAVID
We’re trying to show Hollywood that there’s a market for family values entertainment. If you buy films from us, you tell Hollywood to make good, clean fun. You want them to do that, don’t you?
MRS. BILLMAN
Of course—
DAVID
So I’ll put you down for a copy of our latest feature, “Francis the Penguin.”
MRS. BILLMAN
I’m not sure—
DAVID
If you’re still on Rural Route 550, I just need to get that credit card number from you.
MRS. BILLMAN
My husband lost his job last week, and we’re not sure we can pay the mortgage this month—
DAVID
But this is only 19.99 to make Hollywood more moral. Can afford not to buy this video?
MOM
That was my David. He could have sold a cup of rain to anyone in Seattle. He was in a band in high school, but thank God he went to college and got a job. It wasn’t perfect, but in this economy? And at least he wasn’t a slacker like every other twenty-something in Seattle.
(DAVID dials the phone and beeps out “Come as You Are” – “ring, ring.” MIKE enters. No one home. DAVID hangs up.)
MIKE
David, that last sale was nice. You’re one away from beating the all-time monthly record. You’re going to make assistant manager for sure. It’s great being a manager; no more calling, just encouraging. Salary, not commission. You are poised, my friend. And they’ll probably bump me up to full manager for motivating all your sales. So I’ll still be your boss.
DAVID
Great.
MIKE
What’s wrong?
DAVID
Did you hear Courtney read his suicide note this morning?
MIKE
That idiot.
DAVID
They covered it on MTV.
MIKE
He had multi-platinum albums; he was fucking rich; why would he kill himself? I mean, his wife is crazy, but he could have had any girl he wanted.
DAVID
He wrote that he couldn’t keep faking it.
MOM
David probably could have been an actor, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He could sense what someone needed and just turn that part of himself on. That’s acting, right? But it’s also sales, and he just shined there. Everybody said so. If he hadn’t done it, he’d be a manager there now.
MIKE
I guess being a rock star was just too hard; he should’ve tried calling strangers eight hours a day and selling them shit they don’t want, right?
DAVID
That’s not very motivating.
MIKE
Oh, come on. Make a few more calls, get that sale, break the record, and you’ll be on my side of the line. No more calling. Just ringing the bell when someone makes a sale, handing out the gift cards to whoever gets the most credit card sales in an afternoon. Plus benefits. Just dial, man.
(DAVID dials and beeps out “All Apologies”—“ring, ring”)
WOMAN
Hello?
DAVID
Sorry, wrong number.
MIKE
What was that?
DAVID
Over half the people we call don’t even have real addresses. They live on Rural Routes, State Routes, they’ve got mortgages they can’t pay, and we get them to buy these videos they think will shake Hollywood’s foundations—
MIKE
What’s wrong with selling them a little bit of hope?
MOM
People say Courtney reading the note kept copycat, um, incidents from happening. But it obviously didn’t help David at all.
DAVID
I quit.
MIKE
Whoa, hold on there. One more sale, and we’ll talk a little time off.
DAVID
I can’t keep faking it.
MIKE
One more sale, you take a few days off, and I’ll make sure you come back an assistant manager. No more calls.
DAVID
It’s not about the calls. It’s about the lies.
MIKE
Whoa, whoa, whoa. We never lie.
DAVID
“Your 19.99 will show Hollywood there’s a market for family entertainment”?
MIKE
It might.
DAVID
I’m done.
MIKE
Okay, so you’re giving your two weeks, just sit back down and get that sale, break the record, and I’ll still get bumped up to manager, and if you change your mind—
DAVID
I don’t hear cash registers in my mind, Mike. I hear music. All the time. I gotta try.
(DAVID exits)
MOM
And that was it. He gave it all up. And I apologize to you about the noise from the basement, but I just don’t know what to do about it. He moved back home, fixed the basement up into some kind of studio, and got his high school band back together. David won’t even consider a day job. He and his friends just play and play and play that music. If you can call screaming and feedback music. I know you paid too much for the houses in this neighborhood to hear it all the time, so we’re going to sound-proof the basement. I hope you won’t call the police anymore for the noise violations; maybe the band will get better. It’s so sad to see your child self-destruct like this. Can I get anyone more coffee?
Read full lengths by Jacob Juntunen here!
No comments:
Post a Comment