a short play

Cast

ME, a depressive
BRAIN, an asshole

[Bedroom, 9pm]

BRAIN: I'm tired.
ME: It's only nine.
BRAIN: I said, I'm TIRED.
ME: I'm not going to bed now.
BRAIN: I can't stay awake.
ME: Yeah, right up until I turn the light off, when you suddenly remember a graphic newspaper article from when I was twelve or that time someone shouted at me in the street or when you thought of some really creative ways for people I love to get hurt and for it to be my fault.
BRAIN: Well, we need to be prepared for all the ways people you love might get hurt and it might be your fault. Then it won't be a surprise.

[song interlude]

BRAIN: I'm TIRED.
ME: You've got to wait.

[Bedroom, 11.30pm]

ME: OK, this is more like bedtime. We can...
BRAIN: We should empty the washing machine.
ME: O...K...
BRAIN: It's important.
ME: Remember when you wouldn't let me do any washing for weeks because downstairs was too far away and I still had three pairs of clean pants?
BRAIN: IMPORTANT. WASHING MACHINE.
ME: Fine.
BRAIN: And hang it all up.
ME: Yes.

[washing machine is emptied, contents are hung on clothes horse]

BRAIN: While we're up, this room's a bit of a state.
ME: What, now?
BRAIN: NOW. It's a mess.
ME: Yes, it's a mess. It's always a mess. You look at it and you CAN'T and it's AWFUL and you have to lie down.
BRAIN: This sounds like excuse-making. You're always doing that.
ME: Alright, fine. I'll put a couple of things away.

[an hour later]

BRAIN: This cupboard needs reorganising.
ME: You have got to be kidding.
BRAIN: IMPORTANT. CUPBOARD.
ME: It's 12.30am and the cupboard is fine.
BRAIN: I'm on a roll. Stop complaining. You're always complaining about things that need to be done.
ME: Remember when you wouldn't let me eat because moving was too hard and you might accidentally see some other humans?
BRAIN: You're fine. Stop living in the past.
ME: Uh...
BRAIN: ORGANISE THIS CUPBOARD FULL OF FABRICS AT ONCE.

[organisation happens]

BRAIN: Now for writing.
ME: What?
BRAIN: You should write! You keep saying that!
ME: ...you haven't let me write for over three months.
BRAIN: So you'd better jump on it, hadn't you?

[writing]

ME: Does this mean you're going to let me dance again too?
BRAIN: Let's not go nuts.
ME: But...
BRAIN: I don't like moving. And there are people.
ME: I like people.
BRAIN: Yeah, but let's face it, you're no fun anymore.
ME: Whose fault is that?
BRAIN: This would be a lot easier if you just accept the fact that nobody cares if you're there or not and that moving around is rubbish.
ME: I'd rather not.
BRAIN: Maybe you should clean the carpet.
ME: Maybe you should shut up.
BRAIN: Maybe YOU should shut up. Ever think about that?
ME: Yes.
BRAIN: Good.

[writing finishes]

ME: Now is it bedtime?
BRAIN: You need to make a spreadsheet.
ME: A spreadsheet?
BRAIN: IMPORTANT.
ME: Can't we do that in the morning?
BRAIN: Well, sure, if that's a risk you want to take.
ME: Fine.

[The next morning, 10am]

ME: So, did you want to vacuum the carpet?
BRAIN: I'm TIRED. I was up LATE.
ME: Whose fault is that?
BRAIN: I can't do ANYTHING. Not one thing. Bring me the internet.
ME: But...
BRAIN: IMPORTANT. INTERNET.
ME: I remember when you used to be nice.
BRAIN: Stop living in the past and bring me the internet before I start imagining that you've been locked in a room with your ex for science and all you can do is scream obscenities at him because of all the things he did that I'm about to remind you of.
ME: Yes, yes, alright.
BRAIN: Youtube is soothing.
ME: The room is still kind of a mess.
BRAIN: You made me do THINGS. I'm not doing THINGS again for WEEKS. Remember when we stayed awake every night and watched five hundred videos of improv sketches in a row? Wasn't that great?
ME: It really wasn't.
BRAIN: Those were the days.

[Youtube]

ME: Can we go for a walk?
BRAIN: Ask me again in a week.