My point is that with all the irresponsible, reckless, idiotic behavior in your

past, that somehow, somehow you have the nerve, the arrogance to
consistently and ruthlessly point out my shortcomings. From the moment
you gave birth to me, I had to trust you. I had no choice.
I needed you to protect me from the world.
To..to be my guide, to help me navigate the difficult, confusing, and
vulnerable journey to becoming a person. You have done none of those
things. You're my mother, and you took a child's trust and smashed it into
bits in a 17-year-long mission to destroy something that you killed a long
time ago. And honestly, when I turn 18 I-I don't know that I ever want to see
you again. Oh, you think that's funny, fat ass? I mean, y-y-you got the big
glasses there I-I-I don't know. T-T-Tell me, tell me what's on your mind?
Oh, I'll tell you, Mister Selfish-ass Dad. You are completely selfish, and
totally irresponsible as a father. You have no education, you have no
interests, you just do whatever reckless thing you want to do whenever you
want to do it without regard for anyone else. Oh, oh, and when you're not
terrorizing the community with your impulsive escapades, you're being a
total jerk to your family. If someone in the outside world could see the way
you treat me, you would be in jail! Oh, ha ha.
Oh, this is amusing to you. Well, see if you find this funny. You are a fat,
lazy, abusive, blue-collar Irish Catholic dad who drinks way too much and
barely makes enough money to support his family.
You've lived half your life, and you have nothing to show for it.
Your only arguable accomplishments are your kids, and look at us; we're a
disaster. You're a total and complete embarrassment in every possible
way. Take a good look at yourself,dad. You're a waste of a man.
Have either of you guys been listening to me? Do you both just have your
heads up your asses?
Justin Foley: “I have to talk to you. Jess...please. I... I’ve been walking
around all night. I’ve got no place to leave, ok? Shit...shit’s so fucked up….
Just talk to me. Last night, I...I walked every street in this shitty ass town.
And I ended up by the water, by the docks. I climbed up this crane, all the
way up there, and I could...I could see the whole city. And I was gonna
jump. Or shoot myself. But I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t stop thinking
about you. I can’t stop. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. I’ll
fucking go to the school. I’ll talk to the cops. I’ll kill Bryce. If that’s what you
want, I’ll kill him with my bare hands and pay the price. Just please tell me
what you want.
“I knew who I was when they found me. I knew my friends and family would
be worried, but I just wanted to fold up and stop. I didn’t want to think
anymore! Yea, well I wasn’t Spencer Hastings for almost a full day, and no
one else showed up for the job; I guess I’m stuck with it. I’m sorry this can’t
be very entertaining. There are people here with real problems. Yeah, just
like me I guess. I um…I fell down in the woods when I was running. I fell
and I looked at the ground. I saw my hand and my sleeve and the little
button on my sleeve and I said to myself, “Ok if this is the last thing I see, I
can handle it.” But it wasn’t! It wasn’t the last thing I ever saw. I just kept
going. How does someone just keep going after the worst has already
happened?! What do you have to change inside to survive?! Who do you
have to become?!”
 Rare Birds (Evan)

by Adam Szymkowicz | ​Author Info​ | ​Play Info

Details

Character: Evan
Genre: Drama
Gender: Male
Age Range: 15-29
Category: Contemporary
Themes: Frustration, Secrets, Death

Scene Synopsis

Evan is creating a video suicide note.

Play Synopsis

Sixteen-year-old Evan Wills is an avid bird watcher who wears colorful songbird shirts to
school despite the constant antagonism it brings him. Evan’s mother just wants Evan to be
normal, and happy—and normal—and get along with her new boyfriend. While Evan
summons the courage to talk to Jenny Monroe (whose locker is next to his), troubled bully
Dylan has something darker in mind. After some stupid choices and unexpected results,
Evan learns that the worst thing you can do in high school is admit you love something.

Evan says

Okay. So I guess this is it. I always thought—well that doesn’t matter. I always thought
somehow someday I would figure out what I’m good for. But . . . now . . . it’s clear I’m not
good for anything.

I guess I should say don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault. No, fuck it. If you feel a little
bit sorry for me at all, it is your fault. It’s everyone’s fault. It’s my father’s fault. Mom, this is
your fault. Everyone at school, all the students, all the teachers, the principal, this is all your
fault. I want the guilt to eat you up. I want you to wonder what you should have done for the
rest of your life. (pause) What am I talking about? No one will miss me. No one will care. No
one will feel bad. You will all be happier.

I could never fit in. I’m too weird. And that’s not going to change. I can’t not be who I am. I
wouldn’t know how.

So, I guess I’ll never get to kiss a girl. I will never see a Red-Crowned Crane in the wild. But
what’s the point of that anyway? It’s just a fucking bird, right? No one cares about fucking
birds.

I’m sorry for being in your lives, for wasting your time.

Okay. This is it. Goodbye. In my next life, I would like to be a bird. If requests are allowed.
So long.

(EVAN raises the gun to his head. A beat. Another beat. A tap on the window. He looks up.
JENNY is outside. He speaks to the screen.)

Okay. Hold on a second. I may be hallucinating.

By: Christopher Durang

GEORGE
Setting: A theater Situation: An accoutant named George Spelvin is baffled to find himself on
the stage of a theatre. The stage manager tells him that "Eddie" (Edwin Booth) has been in a
car accident and George will have to go on for him. The curtian goes up on a play with is either
Private Lives, Checkmate or Hamlet. George wings it as well as he can, but is lost when his
co-stars exeunt.

Oh don't go! (Pause, smiles uncomfortably at the audience.) Maybe someone else will come out
in a minute. (Pause.) Of course, sometimes people have soliloquies in Shakespeare. Let's just
wait a moment more and maybe someone will come. (Spotlight suddenly flashes on GEORGE.)
Oh dear. (GEORGE fidgets awkwardly then decides to do his best to live up to the requirements
of the moment.) To be or not to be, that is the question! (Doesn't know any more.) Oh maid! (No
response, he remembers that actors call for "line") Line. LINE! Ohhhhh. Oh, what a rouge and
peasant slave am I Wheater tis nobler in the mind's eye to kill oneself, or not dreams are made
on ; and our lives are rounded by a little sleep.

(Lights change. Spot goes out.) Uh, thrift, thrift, Horatio! Neither a borrower nor a lender be. But
to thine own self be true. There is

a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. Extraordinary how potent cheap music can be. Out,
out damn spot! I come to wive it wealthily in Padua. (Sings.) Brush up your Shakespeare, start
quoting him now...Da da da!!! (GEORGE moves center stage) I wonder whose yacht that is.
How was China? Very large, China. How was Japan? Very small, Japan. (Looks around
nervously, then

says the first thing that comes to mind.) I pledge alliegance to the flag of the United States of
America and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under god, indivisible with liberty
and justice for all. Line! Line! Line! Oh my god. (Gets idea.) O my god, I am heartily sorry for
having offended thee , and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains
of hell. But most of all they offend thee, GOD, who art all good and deserving of my love. And I
resolve to confess my sins, to do pennace, and to ammend my life. AMEN! (Friendly.) That's the
act of contrition that Catholic schoolmasters say in confession in order to be forgiven for their
sins.

But ARGH! I'm not Catholic or a school master! What am I doing? (Explaining) When you call for
a line, usually the stage manager gives it to you! Y'know to just refresh your memory! LINE! The
quality of mercy if not strained. It droppith as the gentle rain upon the place

below. Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him well. Get thee to a nunnery!! Line! Nunnery! Oh who am I
kidding? I am an accountant. I've

studied ogarithms, and cosine and tangent...... (irritated.) LINE! (Apoligetic.) I'm sorry. This is
supposed to be Hamlet or Private Lives or something. And I keep on rattling like a maniac. And I
expected to see Edwin Booth, and now I have to go on for him! I'm so embarassed. Line! I don't
know what else to do? (Sings alphabet song.) A B C D E F G......etc. (As he starts to sing,
ELLEN TERRY

enters dragging to large garbage cans. She puts them side by side, and gets in one.) Oh, good.
Are you Ophelia? Get thee to a

nunnery. (She points to the other garbage can indicating he should get in it.) Get in? Ok! (He
does) This must be one

of those modern Hamlets.

Then she went back home put on some old clothes. She went into the
bathroom filled the tub opened the box of razor blades she took from her
parents' store that morning She got into the tub still with her clothes on slit
her wrists and bled to death. And she died alone.