 and help really get this in motion. On that note, just be aware, there is a microphone in this room that can pick up even things the audience is saying. So, as we like to say in the theater, please unwrap your candies during the intermission. For those of you that are new with us, Interim Writers is a playwright's collective that is dedicated to fostering and developing new plays by Boston Area Playwrights. And as part of that mission, we always open up the first part of our events by looking to you, the audience, to share with us what's going on in town. So, if you are an actor, playwright, director, and there is an arts event going on in town, this is time for you to tell the community what's going on. What are you working on? Cassie? I'm working on an apricot for a project. I'm Steve Mandarin, and we're happy to serve it because one of our collaborators is an actor here. Awesome, thanks. Yes, go see Middletown. What else is going on? Legally dead at Boston Playwrights Theater. All right, legally dead at Boston Playwrights Theater. It's one of the most funniest plays I've seen in about five years. Nice. Short and funny. We all have time for that, right? All right. Anything else going on for you theater folks? Yes. Now, I guess next month we'll be opening the first production of HUB Theater Company of Boston, which will be labeled as wrong by Israel Horowitz. Awesome. Yes, so come support the genesis of HUB Theater Company. Awesome. Yes. For people who are new play fans, our host theater next month will be doing their last show of the season, which is The Sea Birds, which is a new play by William O'Rourke, and it's a fantastic show coming here. It's BBT, opening March. Awesome. Thank you. Not until April, but the Senna Latina Theater. It is Spanish, but it's still Anna in the Tropic by Nilo Cruz. Awesome. Yes, but check out Anna in the Tropic. Anything else? All right, next thing that we have going on is here at the Democracy Center on March 3rd, Sunday night. We're featuring the work of three playwrights. So come check it out. Three playwrights. We are doing Debra Weiss, MJ Halverstadt, and Mike Meadows. All right, so with that, I would like to introduce to you our playwright, John Greener-Farris. He is a member of the Accomplets Playwrights Group. He went to Boston University and graduated from their playwriting program that resides in the Boston Playwrights Theater. This play that you guys are going to, in a reading of tonight, was actually a semi-finalist for the O'Neill Playwrights Conference. And I'd like to give a special thanks, shout-out to the actors that are involved tonight. We have Victor Chappell, Dakota Shepard, Derek Frazier, Bob Muset, and Gordon Jack Schultz, with, of course, Ross Brown helping us out with stage directions. So, stay for the whole play. It's about 80 minutes. We're going to take a 10-minute break. We're going to drink some more wine, have some cookies, and we're going to come back and talk about it. Your feedback is important to the playwright. We want to hear your ideas. We want to hear your responses to this play. So, without further ado, Island Center in Vienna. Thanks, dead mother. Pretty, an angel in a cotton house dress. Billy, his friend and lover. JP, 30s to 40s. Hank's dad. Think James D, Dean, just about to go to sea. Henry, 50s. An Indiana farmer. Crusty and no nonsense. Smart and savvy. Island Center in Vienna is dedicated with the deepest love and affection to Susan Farney. Island Center in Vienna. A crossroads in the middle of God's country. Where the nearest neighbors at least a mile down the road. Corn country, hog farms, soybean fields, with the occasional tobacco patch and a couple of head of cattle throw in for good measure. There's a farmhouse with a dilapidated but serviceable front porch over which floats a red tin roof. Couple of old chairs, one of which is Henry's, worn winds of chair, devoid of all but a few flecks of bright paint sit on the porch. Milk cans, galvanized metal buckets and a wooden box that contains firewood and corn cobs for starting fires are all within easy reach. Geraniums are planted in rusty coffee cans. Henry would never splurge at anything so frivolous as a flower pot. A wash stand with a chipped white enamel wash bowl sits by the door. Over in a mirror it hangs on a wire with a sharpening straw hanging alongside. Chickens run loose in the yard. And over here, there's a redneck of the corner of a white picket fence that used to run across the yard or the front and would have been seen from the road. But the rest of the yard that runs back toward the house is enclosed by a rusted wire fence. The edges of the yard are packed with flowers of all kinds, peonies, rows of Sharon, lilies, ivy, lilies of the valley, irises, tulips, daffodils, honeysuckle, forsythia, morning glories, roses all nourished by the fertile soil and chicken manure scraped from the hand houses. Lording over all of this is a barn, big and brooding, cathedral-like. And beyond all this, the immense space of the fields that lie just beyond the house. Even in the huge cavernous sanctuary of the Hayloft, I could feel this land pulling at me, trying to get me. It was here that my life was tipped over, like a milk can spilling its contents out onto the dirt. It was here my mother was buried, where JP abandoned me, where I was left, twisting in the wind. A light comes up on Alice Ann. She sits on her gravestone that's also a screen. She sits easy, comfortable. No one told me anything. Look at you! You'd think that someone would have clued me in eventually, instead of- I don't believe it, you are so big. Oh, what, look at you. Mom? I can't get over how handsome you are. You look just like your dad. Do I? Nimmage. So how come you never told me? I heard you got a bow. Didn't you think I had a right to know? And he's a boy just like you. Don't be shy, tell me. Yes, Mom, Billy's a boy, just like me. I won't say it like that, but it doesn't make any difference to me. Why didn't you tell me? Tell you, tell you what? Oh, Hank, you were just a kid. You were too young to be told anyway. What does it matter? What does it matter? You want to know the cause. Because why, Hank? Tell me, why is all this so damn important? Just, how is I supposed to know who I am if I don't know where I came from? Okay, please, you dragged me here to listen to this. Henry's dying, Mom. That's a shame. Got a letter from Grandma. Between her talking about the weather and how many quarts of peas she just put up, she said the doctor said Henry's not doing so good. Just one line, I almost missed it. If I am who I think I am, that phone could be mine. We'll need some convincing. I want, what's mine? Henry will still need some convincing. Shit. I thought you were happy. You got yourself a bow after all these years. Can't you just be happy? Don't do this to yourself, Hank. Don't do this to me. Mom, I know what I'm doing. Do you? You know what they say about curiosity in the cab. You don't think this is a good idea? No, Hank, I don't. And if I go ahead and do it anyway? It's your life, Hank. I can't live it for you, but I'd hate to see you hurt. You can tell me. Right now? Save me and all of us a lot of trouble. I'm not a baby, mom. Can't keep protecting you. I just don't think it's a good idea to go around digging in the past. No one told me anything. I've gotten no choice, mom. Oh, you've got a choice, all right. Don't stand there and get all up at you with me. I'm still your mother. You're mad. You always were one who had to touch the stove to know it was hot. You're really mad. I'm not mad. Yes, you are. All right, I'm mad. It's just that the men in this family are so darn stubborn. You try and tell them this is like talking to a wall. Nah, it's no fun being a Cassandra, is it? I have no idea what you are talking about. I have to do this. Mom, it's like when I'm writing something and it's a bug and it bugs me until I'm finished and I got to get it out of my system. Well, if it's a bug, why don't you just squash it? Live and let live, isn't that what you used to say? What am I going to do with you? You've already done it. That's what I'm afraid of. It's 20 years she's been buried and I still talk to her like I'm talking to you now. That's so much I miss her. I got out of Highland Center as soon as I could. Scholarship, one of the better Boston schools. And I never looked back. Never had any intention of returning. Billy enters. Billy is overweight, but dressed in very modern, fashionable office attire and carries a satchel over his shoulder, a blackberry and a bouquet of flowers. Lucy, I'm home! Let's for dinner, I'm starved. Where were you? I called you about three times, you didn't answer. I was here, you didn't answer. I was here. I know you don't want to hear it, but sometimes I think this place is designed to self-destruct. It's like people, can we just do our jobs and leave all this political shit out of it? What have I got? Pulls a bottle of wine from the satchel like a rabbit out of a hat. Flourishes it in the morning. Ta-da! I thought we could have it with dinner, it goes with your lay-own stew. Ah, shit. What? I didn't think it, I didn't get around to it. Oh, well, we can do take-out tonight. I'll make the land tomorrow night, I promise. Okay, sure. You can save that for tomorrow, or... We can open it, eh? Why wait for tomorrow night? Do you want a glass? I'm definitely having one. Sure, pour me a glass. Do you mind? No. We spent, I am not kidding you, 10 hours, 10 hours locked in a conference room. Me, Alex, Michael, Peter, Gordon. Oh, God, not him. Give him his due. He actually got us through this today. 10 hours, if you total up the billable hours, my God. Ka-ching! Yeah, Gordon is really good at ka-ching. This thing has to go live Tuesday. He knows how to. He plays the game. He can put all these people in a room and get a consensus, and that's what you want. He is a gross middle-aged man in a Hawaiian shirt who hits on all the young girls, and I hope someday he ends up on the front page of the Herald for statutory rape. Look, I have to work with these people. I couldn't care less what Gordon does on his own time. He's an asshole. That asshole could have fired you instead of laying you off, and then you wouldn't be collecting unemployment and sitting here all day contemplating your navel. I'm supposed to thank him for that? I'm just saying. Did the air conditioner guy come today? Yes. Did you pay him? Yes. I left that check. All he had to do was fill in the amount. Yes, $200, God. What? Just $200, it's a lot of money. It took him about 20 minutes. Well, we have the money, it's done. I hate that. Why should we pay somebody good money to do something we could do? You don't know how to put in an air conditioner. What's to know? You stick them in the window. You close the window. You're fucking with me. I'm not carrying that thing. I'm from the cellar. I can. OK, Charles. And next year, you can go to the air conditioner. We pay that guy $200. I know, honey. And next year, I'll pay you $300. I didn't put in that fucking air conditioner. So put in the air conditioner. Take out the air conditioner. Put the fucking thing back in again. Come on. Make a coo- We work our asses off, and we just take our paychecks. My paycheck. You collect unemployment, but I don't have a feeling for you. All right? Your paycheck. We take it with a left hand, hand it over with the right, and I fucking hate it. We are wasting our lives. Pilly, we are simply exchanging our lives for money. And I can hear the clock ticking. I can hear the seconds dropping, like, shards of glass on a tile floor. Here we go again, shards of glass, and tinkling onto the floor. I don't even have a problem with commerce per se. Oh, per se. We don't work. Pilly, we don't. What do you mean we don't work? I work. You know what I go for? You really have something, you know that? I don't know about you, but at the end of the day, I'm beat. I don't just sit at home on the couch with my feet uprighting. God, you suck, you know that? And half the time, you don't even have dinner ready. Oh, I'll just call out for something. Look, you know I have respect for your work, but don't give me this bullshit because you think I've sold out. Or worse, I don't consider what I do selling out. Quite frankly, I like trying to figure out how to persuade 18 to 24-year-old men how to buy underarm deodorants. It's not hard to figure out. Just show them some tits. Billy, we don't add to society, we don't. What do you want to do, cure cancer? Shit. Okay, Hank, talk. You're not the strong silent type. It's what I've always loved about you. What were you like when you were 17? Are you kidding? I was fat, obnoxious, and gay. Hello? I wasn't like this when I was 17. I saw myself sitting in a cabin in the woods writing novels, and I know all teenagers have illusions of grandeur. So write the great American novel. Billy, I'm such a long wave in that I'm so far from that, it's not funny and it's making me kind of crazy. So I repeat, write the great American novel. You have the time now. Honey, we have such a nice life. People would die for it. We have friends. I'm not running for money. Can't you just enjoy it? Billy, I never wanted the white picket fence. It's great for you. You like your job, you come home and the house is clean. Yes, it is, don't give you that look, it's clean. And for the most part, your dinner's made and the groceries are bought, your laundry is done, and I don't mind, really, I don't. This is not how I envision things. This is not how I thought I'd be living my life. Despite what you say, I don't think traditional in any way describes us. Billy, we are so middle class, we might as well be straight. I think it's a little late for that. Billy, I'll admit it, I signed on the bottom line, I agreed to everything, but I want out. What are you saying? If you don't explain yourself in five seconds, Buster. The air conditioner man today? Yeah. He wanted to know if I was the lady of the house. Was he gay? No. Oh, man, I'll never hire him again. Correction, we'll never hire him again. The lady of the house, so, kind of are. The lady of the house. Billy, shut the fuck up. You know what I hate about this place? There's nowhere to walk. When I was a kid, you could go outside and it seemed like you could go from miles in every direction. Here you go three blocks and it's the harbor. Three blocks the other way, it's bars. You can't get away by yourself, folks. Don't you ever just want to be by yourself? Just sit and think. You are by yourself. You are here. Why don't you take a little trip somewhere? I've been thinking about going back to India, visiting Henry. Really, I was thinking more like a cape. I mean, I got the time. Haven't heard from him from anyone? No, not since I left from Grandma. And now you've taken it upon yourself after 10 years to go see him? More like 12. Because he's dying. It's the decent thing to do. Scramshaw, you know I love you, but I'm not sure you've ever used the words decent and Uncle Henry in the same sentence. Why don't you call your grandmother and see how he's doing? Yes, cancer, Billy, he's dying. Not everyone dies from cancer. They do with my family. It's your choice. Personally, I'm not so sure it's a good idea. I don't think you've ever recovered from the shock of moving there to begin with. You might start having flashbacks or something. Fine. Hank crosses into the yard. Billy watches from the corner. Hank is not a child, but a wee child. I'm not the first kid who got orphaned. I just got handed off. I barely knew my mom to Uncle. I knew nothing about a farm. And it's like you, no fits. I'm not taking it. Mom? Here I am, and right here. This is your home now. Why? Hank, J.P., your daddy, you can't take care of you. Why? Hank, please. Where's my family? Henry's your family. I want you and dad. He's my brother, he'll take care of you. Sometimes life is like that. Hey! What do I think of this little yard? It's such a beautiful, safe little haven. The grass enclosed by a wire fence, son of a bitch. It was here I wondered if I could quietly and happily spend the rest of the turn. I gave your ass out here. You were too young to be thinking about eternity. Parents aren't perfect, Hank. People are just doing the best they can. Oh, it's you. Henry, is the boy around? I thought I'd stop by and see him. The boy has a name. Yes, he does, Henry. Hank. Your sister thought very highly of you, Henry. Wanted her son to have your name, not mine. Yours, she insisted. She had a name too. Yes, she did, she sure did. We all have names, Henry. You got a name. And the boy's got yours. Why is that, Henry? She was so quiet about everything. It must have just happened. But that was the one time she put her foot down for her. I think my sister had a very strong sense of family. I heard her put that way before. A strong sense of family. What do you want, JP? Another boy around? I'm looking for my boy. He's at school. It's that time of day. Right. Right, it should have known. I thought he'd be working. No, he goes to school. You said that. What time does he get back from school? It's only morning. Doesn't get home till afternoon. Then he has chores. Afternoon. Shoot, can't wait that long. Hey, listen, can you give him this? So it's a couple of dollars that he could use it. I'll give it to him. How's he doing? He's managing. I appreciate what you and Henrietta are doing. You may not believe it. Probably don't, but I do. Sure. Well, I'm sure he does, too. I never wanted this, Henrietta. I didn't sign up for this. Your sister's the one who wanted kids, not me. I stayed with her as long as she stayed with me, but till death do us part. You're going to visit her while you're here? I'll visit her. She's up at St. Peter's. She's dead, Henrietta. You're talking like she's still alive. I bet you visit her, though, don't you? Yes, I do. I bet you do. I bet every Sunday you put flowers on her and they're going to bury you, Henrietta. When you go, she's got a name, JP. She's got a name. I received two letters, each with a couple of dollars, then nothing. He's a good man, Hank. Don't give up on him. That time my dad came, I was in school that day. I was right up there in my bedroom listening. Hank crosses back to the condo. Wait, did I just miss something? Henrietta's your father? I don't know. Your mother's brother's your father? That's what it sounds like to me. You never told me this. Billy, I don't know. As far as I know, JP's my dad. Close all that, your name, her name business. I was just a little kid. It was such a long time ago. Things could gotten twisted. It's impossible. You weren't that little. You write everything in your journals. My god, if you're constipated, it's in there. You read my journals. Hank, this is big. You're saying, your mother? Watch it. Oh, Hank, and this is why you want to go back? I don't know. Yeah, I guess. This is amazing. I never knew if I should go look for JP. Continue the charade that he was my dad. Ask him, see if he can tell me the truth. You told me he was dead. He probably is. Probably dead isn't the same as being dead. Where would I look after all these years? The internet? Henry knows the answer. Henry's the one to talk to. You really do think he is, don't you? I'm not your answer. Billy, it's not a question you can just ask. Hey, Uncle Henry, how are you? How are your pigs? Oh, by the way, are you my father? I can't believe you, my mother. Then don't go. Forget about it, Billy. He's dying. This is it. This is my last chance. If I don't go and at least try and find out, I'm just letting things. When I said I was gay, I said, this is who I am. To charge my life. This is me saying who I am, Billy. I have a right to know. All these years, he's never once called me his son. Now, think about this. It's true. I asked him to stand to inherit a 300 acre farm. Is there a will? I don't know. But if he admits to being my father, then maybe he'll also agree that that farm should not be mine. We're doing a lot better than a condo in Southeast. Really? A hog farm. It's been in my family for over three generations. Oh, well, what's it worth? How much could you get for it? Get for it? Sell it. How much could you get? I really don't know, Billy, a lot. It's worth a lot. I wouldn't sell it. You wouldn't be a hog farmer. I'd be dating a hog farmer right now. I'm dating an advertising executive. Mid-morning, the day is humid and lazy. But if you sit still and listen, there is activity. Weathering blackbirds call from the roadside. Cicada's trill now and then in the bushes. Even the heat has a sound. A singing in the ears that is equal to listening to one's own heart. Henry sits in the worn Windsor chair. He is unshaven and wears faded bib overalls, a long sleeve shirt buttoned at the neck and wrists, a cap advertising seed corn, no socks, and high top canvas sneakers. Next to him, at his feet, sits a mason jar with a liquid that's clear as spring water. Henry occasionally sits from the jar. Within reach, is a loaded to 12-gain shotgun. He has bone cancer, and he's beginning to show its effects. Henke's is upon Henry, someone apprehensively, someone saddened. When I think fondly of Henry, and I do, I see him driving an ancient piece of farm machinery, a horse-drawn cultivator. Its wooden yoke has been rubbed as smooth as a piece of fine porcelain by the flanks of dre-horses. And its metal seed is very broad and rusted, but the springs are still lively. The yoke would be too heavy for me as a boy to manage and would respond to me, even trying to lift it like a foundering animal. It took a very strong man to handle this machine. And I still had a very image of my Henry's substantial backside cradled in the sea. His suspenders painting a light stripe down his back, and him urging the horses as they stumbled through the plow furrows, here, get up there, come on. I could clearly hear his guttural shout in my ears. The leather rains and the horses' backs made a light noise, like water, slapping concrete. Oh, don't you? Urgent might be stopped by. Jungle drums sounded the alarm, huh? Jungle drums. Ain't no jungle drums around here. I know. No jungle either. Yeah, and then someone told you word gets around. Word gets around, sure. I was visiting grandma. Yeah, I know. Right, of course you did. I cut through the locus patch across the creek and came across a field, just like I used to. I was wondering where you come from. Crick up? No. No, we haven't had much rain. It's exactly like I remember. What's that? Everything, the fields, the woods, the creek. You know the same rocks were there that I used to step on, even at home. OK, it's all the same. Little rundown, I guess we're all a little rundown. It's really all the same. The field is the same. House is the same. Woman from the church comes by every week and cleans it. Your room's still there. You're kidding. It is the same as it was. You haven't changed it at all. No reason to change it. It's all there. Your bed, the quilt Henrietta made special for you. You left here like there was an invading army coming. Henrietta left it on your bed. Thought you might come back someday. Go on in and look at it now if you want. Maybe later. Hasn't changed. Why would it? Yeah, why would it? I see you're still inviting. If that's the worst thing I have to worry about in a day, I'm doing OK. You always said that. It's true. Still no kidney stones? Works like a charm. Well water and vinegar. Vinegar dissolves pearls, so you think you're going to dissolve kidney stones too. You know, Henry, that's not necessarily true. I don't have kidney stones. You don't have to trim something so foul every day. Not so bad. It's vinegar. Henry spots something in the yard. He reacts quickly picking up the shotgun and surprisingly deft and silent for his age takes a couple of steps into the yard where he points the shotgun straight into the ground when fires. Thanks, ducks for cover. Got you, son of a bitch. Jesus! Henry, what the hell is wrong with you? Got you, son of a bitch. Damn old digging up my yard. Pete could have broken a leg in there. Pete used Pete. My opponent, Jesus. Henry, you could have blown your foot off. No, that's how I killed moles. Well, then you could have blown my foot off. Jesus, Henry, you always was a little bit sissy. Thanks for reminding. That's the way you were. So how are you? That's why you're here. Because I'm going? What? I had a little time on my hands. Can't I visit? When was the last time you had that notion? You're now, aren't I? What do you want, a medal? I don't know, is that what you want, a goddamn medal? And you are not going anywhere. Yes, I am. What are you, a doctor now? I was hoping it was just rheumatism, but they say it's starting in my bones now. Nothing they can do, damn doctors. What about chemo or radiation? No, I don't want any of that stuff. I've seen what that stuff does. Make sure worse. Look what it did to your mother. Maybe it could buy you a little time. No, it's no good. I'm rotten at the core. Nothing to be done about it. I'm sorry. What are you sorry for? It's not your fault. Who's going to take care of you? I will. What do you think I am, some sort of anti-waste? I've been taking care of myself since your Aunt Henrietta died. It's going to get pretty bad, Henri. Yeah, well, you're looking good. You look smart. Thanks. I am good. Life is good. I like Boston. I like what I'm doing. Happy now. Henri, I couldn't have lived here and been myself at the same time. Boston. So now what are you? The prodigal son? No. Is that what you think? You're the prodigal son? Should I slaughter a fatted calf in your honor? No. Get all those servants to blow their horns and beat the drums? No, Henri. Still doing your writing? Oh, yeah. It's what I do. I'll never stop. What you always liked. Used to sit up in that room and just scribble. Just because I'm a farmer doesn't mean I don't know nothing about writing in Boston and such. Yes, Henri. And liking what you're doing? I always liked farming. I didn't have to run off to find myself. I was right here all along. Yes, Henri. How long you here for? Not sure. I thought I'd. You're going to play it by ear, huh? Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm doing. You can stay here. Still your home. Stay as long as you want. Or not. Nobody's going to make you stay. Yeah, maybe. Tell you what. Why don't we go inside? I got some pork chops I can fry up. Special, we can have dinner. Thanks, Henri. But no, I think I'll head back to Grandma's. You're leaving? You just got here. Stay and eat. Get your suitcase and throw it up there in your room. And by the time you're done, I'll have the dinner on the table. Henri, I think we're all going to stay at Grandma's. And besides, I'm a vegetarian. Wait. What'd you just say? I'm going to go stay at Grandma's. No, the other way. I'm a vegetarian. I don't eat meat. I know what a vegetarian is. I may not live in Boston, but I still know what a vegetarian is. You don't have to go back to Grandma's. You can sit at my table and eat meat, potatoes like everyone else. Vegetarian, my ass. Then I'll take you over to Grandma's and you get your suitcase. Henri, it's just that I don't eat meat. Lots of people don't. You're a vegetarian. All right, fine. I'll cook chicken. We have that same day, and light is stronger. There's the sound of a tractor. We hear the engine revved and then the engine being shut off. Henry and Hank enter. Hank is carrying his knapsack and a rabbit in his arms, bleeding, but still alive. God, you can see his insides. Yeah, those mowers slice him up pretty good. He's still living. Not for much longer. Shouldn't we put it out of its misery? He's so long gone, you don't feel a thing. Yeah, still. What do you want me to do? I don't know, Henri, shoot it. Hey, wait, he's going on a rabbit. Give it here. Without waiting for Hank to hand it to him, Henry grabs the rabbit and brings his neck. There. He's dead. Happy? Henry hands the rabbit back to Hank. Don't tell me you forgot how to skin a rabbit. Henry takes a good-sized ball out of his pocket and hands it to Hank. Hank takes it and begins to skin the rabbit. So you're this Billy's maid. Not his maid, Henry. I pull my weight. I do the cooking and grocery shopping. I keep the place clean. We split the expenses. How do you do that if you're not working? I was working. I have some sands. Your mom's money. Yeah, I took that and put it into stocks. Well, that's gone for sure. One minute was there, the next minute it was gone. Like a trap door opened up. God damn. How the hell could you have lost all your mother's money gambling like that? Henry, it's not gambling. It's the stock market. But I told you, didn't I? Couldn't tell you a damn thing. Now, if you put your money in land like I told you, you wouldn't listen to good sense. And now look where you are. Henry, I'm fine. You're broken out of work is what you are. That ain't fine. I'm OK. You thought you was going to make a killing, didn't you? Suddenly, everybody was a banker. That's like saying, suddenly you're a farm. It seemed safe. Everybody does it? Sure. Sure, everybody does it. Now, there's a damn good reason for doing something. Now, those bankers on Wall Street are so crooked, they screw their stocks on them. So we all put our money in mattresses? Land and land. How many goddamn times do I have to say it? If I don't have much except this farm, it's paid for. As long as I got this farm, I got somewhere to live and feed myself. Let them try and take this away. Hell, this farm would kill your average banker in a week. Don't ever change, Henry. You never should have done it in the first place. You're right. I shouldn't have listened to you. They was taking candy from babies. Right, Henry? Damn, you're something. You know that? I'll be goddamn. You think I don't know what you're doing here? The buzzards are certain. Buzzards? Oh, you think? No, no. Now, wait a minute, Henry. I hardly think I could be considered a buzzard. Oh, no. You've been insulted. Jesus ain't that subtle. You stay away for what, 10, 12 years? You didn't even come home to Henrietta's funeral. Suddenly, you show up and you're all, you're right, Henry. And I should have listened to you, Henry. Your first mistake was agreeing with me. You never agreed with me on anything. Hell, I'd say this guy was blue, you'd say was green, just to be honest. Henry. Don't you, Henry, me. Well, what's going to happen? To what? Do you know? Say, if there's one thing I can't stand as a snake. To this farm, when you're gone, when you're dead. What? You think I'm going to hand this farm over to you like your mom handed money over to you and then you go out and lose it, huh? My father gave it to me and his father gave it to him. And I worked and sweated my whole life to make this place work. And now you want it so you can lose it, too? So who's in line next, then? That's my worry, not yours. I think I have a right to know. Don't talk to me about right. God, you are a son of a bitch. You know that? You're right, Henry. It was a mistake coming here to see you. To see if we could patch things up, we never could, Tom. Couldn't agree on one thing. I should have come back here. You came back here because your roots are here. I wasn't born here. Your roots are here, goddammit. Roots don't die. You see those flowers along the fence there? Every fall, I take them over and mow those flowers down right down to the ground. And the first frost comes in the snow, and you can't imagine another living thing ever grown there again, impossible. Every spring, they come back up again. It's because their roots don't die. Oh, yeah, well, that and not their roots do for them, and they'll just get mowed down again. Go ask them, Henry. They might say they'd rather be somewhere else. Flowers don't talk. I don't even argue. Who do you know about flowering? Who do you know about seed? About storms rising up on the horizon so big, you think it's the end of the world coming. And the heat making you wonder if the whole world isn't just going to catch on fire. You left. You wanted to be a riot. Now you want to be a fire. I want what's mine. What's yours? Something. My name. Henry, I want my name, all right? You got a name. We got the same name. All right, we got the same name. What happened? Why is that? I don't know. You have to ask your mom, and she's dead. You don't know why she named me Henry. How should I know? Oh, you're a farmer already. You fad hogs her market, then ship them off to slaughter without batting an eye. You raise up hay into the sunlight, and delight in mowing it down into darkness. You castrate every bore, except one, and that used to be you. But it ain't no more, Henry. You spread your seed with the time for harvests come, Henry, and you know what better than I do, because you're a farmer. If you stay here, you might learn something about how to farm instead of how to talk so damn fancy. Now where's that gotcha? You're still standing here with your and a- Oh, aren't you something? If, if hell, if a lot of things, Henry. You don't like snakes? Well, here's the pure, unadulterated truth. I'm in, Henry. I'm all you've got. And without me, your precious farm will go to hell. Make a bargain with you. I'll stick around. I'll wear the ropes. And we'll play it by ear. Help him be appreciated. Just like riding a biker. What is? Working, putting up hay. Once you do it, you never forget. I don't know. I never rode a bicycle. You know, Henry, despite everything, it did seem simpler when I lived here. In retrospect, hampier. I said I like Boston, and I do. But I'd be lying if I didn't say something's missing. You grew up around this, and you miss it. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. These 288 acres pretty much define my existence. I know every rut, every tree, and fence post-help, I could plow out there those fields blindfolded. I have a lot of fond memories here. You were sheltered from a lot of things. All children are. Sheltered to hell. Henry, take my word for it. It's a lot simpler here. A lot. Every time times get hard, the first thing people want to do is go back to a time they think was better. When they remember being happier. When things were simpler and easy. Times were never like that because life is never simple or easy. Life ain't happy. What do you think of this place? What do you think of this place? What do you mean? What do you say? Take your time. Reminds me of mom? There's a real underlying sense of beauty here that reminds me of mom. That's your family talking, Hank. You're the son I never had. If you want it, show me that you want it. That you really want it. I have the papers drawn up. And this place will be yours when I'm gone. Henry gets up and exits through the house. It's the least you can do, you old fucker. The airport. Billy has picked up Hank. He carries a sign that says, welcome home, honey. And has given Hank a bouquet of flowers. Here? Why not? It's better than you flying back and forth to take care of him. Bring him here? I'm not sure that's a good idea. He's old. If he gets out of hand, I'll just slap him around. How bad can he be? You're telling yourself. He's not this quiet, good old man. You can't just slap him around. We'll slap back. You come back here every time, physically and mentally beat. You can't keep this up. No, not a good idea. What? We have the best medical care in the world here. It's not the good idea. Why not? He doesn't like hospitals. Who does? Or doctors, especially doctors. He's pretty much resigned himself to dying. That's ridiculous. You don't know what you're dealing with. So he's just waiting for the grim reaper to tap him on the shoulder and say, come with me? That's pretty much it. Except he keeps a loaded shotgun by the door. He'll get a few shots out before he goes. Did I'm going with you the next time to help you? No. Why not? No, Billy, no. Billy, there is Boston. And there is San Francisco. And there are 2,999 miles between here and there. You don't know what you're dealing with. You make it sound like it's some kind of demonic force. Like it's a force from beyond the grave. It's worse than that. It's my uncle Henry. I get it. Does he know about me? Yes, he knows about you, Billy. You're ashamed of me. I'd say it isn't it. I'm ashamed of you. Now you're being ridiculous. That's why you don't want to bring him here. That's why you don't want me to go out there because of us. No, Billy, that's not it. He doesn't even know you're gay, does he? I don't know. I don't. How can he not know? Look at you. It's never come up and it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. No. It most certainly doesn't matter. And you know why it matters because you're with me and it matters to me. Billy, I really, I don't need this. Can we just let it drop? This isn't the best time to get all righteous about you and me. It's always the right time as far as I'm concerned. You're a hypocrite. You know that? You all are. How am I a hypocrite? Because you want to know all about the truth about your father, but you don't want to put the truth out there about yourself. Oh, God. It's true. You want people to fess up about themselves, but not you. You're exempt. That's not true. Of course it's not true. That's why I'm coming. Billy. I'm coming next time and your Uncle Henry will see us together. Billy. End of discussion. I'm coming. I'm not going to French kiss you in front of me. I really wish you wouldn't. French kiss you? No, come. I'm coming. Please, Billy. I'm coming. Oh, God. They crossed to the farm. It's towards evening. Hank and Billy are coming back from a locked-down roof. The lights are on in the farmhouse, lighting the scene with a warm look. I don't seem to have a signal here, not lately. What do I do if I want to make a call? Crank something? I don't think I've ever been this far from civilization. This really is the dark side of the news. There's a phone inside. Hank, I saw the phone. It hasn't healed. Henry's not big on technology. I mean, does it actually work? I don't know. I just don't know. There's no phone. I said I guess it works. Why don't you have a phone sitting there, but it didn't work? Have you ever heard it actually ring? No, you mentioned it. He doesn't get a lot of calls because I've never seen him use it. This is like fucking time travel. So what are we supposed to do? About what? I'm out talking. What if there's a fire? What if work is dragging it up holdin' me? This wasn't the best time for me to get away. Not my idea. I mean, I can't even text. Where the fuck are we anyway? Look around. This is where we are. Lights flashing on and off like that. What are those things? Aliens? Am I going to be abducted? Am I about to be probed? Maybe. Those are lightning bugs. Lightning bugs. Heard about them. They look like they could set the woods on fire, don't they? Times Square is amazing. This comes a close second. That's good. Times Square. I need a shower. There's a bathtub. There's no shower. Nope. We take baths. Baths. You just wallow in your own filth. Of course, I'm soaking in luxurious bath oil with heated towels. No, not here. If we're really dirty, we wash off at the pump. The pump, yep. There's a horse tromp, too, not a real subject. If it's sunny, if it's like a nice warm bath when it's sitting in the sun all day. Please don't make me wash that horse thing. Drown. Look, I was raised here. Wasn't perfect, but I told you not to come. I wasn't staying home. And I don't want to hear any more snide remarks. Snide remarks. I know what I'm talking about. What? Henry, this is the best jello I've ever tasted. We don't have jello like this in Boston, do we, Hank? Well, we don't. I don't even think we have jello, do we? It's nothing. Fruit cocktail. Fancy. I mean it, Billy. I'll meet you down at the swimming hole. We'll fry a mess of croquette for some time. This is it, Don. You left your dip in the kitchen. Want some? The thing's done. Your boys have a nice walk? Yes, this is, it's not Boston. Boy, you look and talk like a Kentucky horse trick. Thank you. Hank tells me he's your maid. And Hank tells me you're here with his father. Billy. Agency. Yes, yes, thank you. Can't say I know anything about that, agency. I work on Oral-B on the Oral-B account. What's an Oral-B? It's a $150 toothbrush account that Billy works on. A toothbrush that costs $150. That's just throw away good money. Precisely. What did it do, brush your teeth for you? It's not just a toothbrush. I keep trying to explain this to Hank. It's a complete mouth care system. Hank's cleaning technology maximizes brushing performance. It effectively removes plaque without irritating the gums. They don't want to come out and just simply say it brushes your teeth. They want to say that it actually brushes your teeth for you, which it doesn't. I mean, you have to hold it in your hand, right? The lawyers are hashing it out. The damn thing brushed your teeth for you. Now that's what I call lazy. Or tired. So tired you can't even brush your teeth. I've been that tired. I don't think I'd spend $150 on a toothbrush. I just skipped that night. That's all. I don't accept being on show. Advertising. I like it. I hate it. An advertising agency doesn't sound like something I ever want to be at. Cookin' another man's dinner isn't something I'd like to do either. Henry, I told you I'm not his maid. So you're just good friends. We're roommates, that's all. Right, Billy? Roommates? Yeah. That's right. That's what we are. Roommates. There's a silence except for the chirping of crickets. A dog barks in the distance, once, twice, and then a rapid series of barks announcing an intruder. Nice night. Henry sips from his mason jar. And contemplatively chews and spits. Billy seeds. So what do you all do out here at night when the lightning bugs come out? This is pretty much it. You're blessed. Did you try? No, what kind of logic? Was she barren or were you shooting blanks? Well, good night, boss. We talk about our lives. We're interested in each other's lives. We don't just sit around and chew our cunts. Now here, Billy, we mind our own business. I thought you were my business. No. No? No, you don't own me. Oh, my mistake. God, I need a drink. Why don't you give Billy a sip of what you're drinking? What's that? This? That, Billy, boy, is authentic moonshine. White lightning. Moonshine from a still? This is a hang-throughs, Henry awake. Well, I don't know. This is pretty powerful stuff. Go ahead. What do you taste to taste? That's horrible. What do you think it is, Billy? God, why would anyone want to? Billy takes another snort. Careful, sneak up on you. Drink up, Billy. I should blacken out a front tooth and play the banjo. Make a fuck with my sister. All right, Billy, that's enough. We're roommates. We weren't blessed. And I'm just sitting here on the porch in Highland Center, Indiana, drinking moonshine and counting lightning bugs. Man, if they could see me now. Henry, you're going to have to excuse my friend. I think he said a little too much to drink. Henry, can I ever tell you the story of when Hank and I met? No, Billy, I don't believe you have. Well, Henry, let me tell you. Billy, I don't think Henry is interested in hearing how you and I met. I'd like to hear it. See, Hank, Henry wants to hear my story. Stop that interesting. I promise I'll embellish it. In the right places, of course. Let's hear it. I was a junior account executive at BBD, foiling away on the Gillette account, men's personal care division, very prestigious, very visible. I had my own office, sort of, on the 39th floor of the Hancock. And if I stood on tiptoe, on my desk, and grabbed my bookcase and stuck my head out into the hallway and craneed my neck, I could see all the back day below. That was my own office with a real view. I wanted that so bad, and I was willing to work and do whatever it took for me to have it. I was good at my job, very good, still am. And I'm waiting for my break, just being patient, like a tiger waits, you know? And then I came. A series of print ads for a new razor. Very big deal. Part of TV and POS and blah, blah, blah, blah, nationwide, that was it. Now I know what you're thinking, Henry. Come on, Billy, a junior AE, given all this responsibility, you're pulling my leg. I know, but see what you see, Henry. Don't understand what you don't understand about ad agencies, is they're all smoke and mirrors. You think everyone wants to work at big, bad BBD, but the truth of the matter is, they work into the bomb. So young people get the experience in their portfolios and get out before they burn out, and the senior people don't do shit except clean up the work of the junior people and take credit for it. So, this is exactly what I've been waiting for so I can land that job at the hip and cool boutique because, well, I'm so hip and cool. Minimum eight print tags and I'm told a new junior writer was assigned and I'm thinking, oh shit, this is not good, this is not good. I'm gonna look up this junior writer in column and he doesn't answer his phone and I leave a message that he better get his ass up to my office right now and I hang up and I go to the senior account guy's office whose name, Henry, I know won't mean shit to you but it's a very big deal in this advertising world, a very big deal and I said, Jack, Jack, what is this? A junior writer and he says there's nothing he could do, it's the creative department's decision and I just had to work with it. I go back to my office and there, sitting there is, well, I wasn't sure what was sitting there, whatever it was, it was wearing a blue blazer with gold buttons with anchors on them, anchors. And gray flannel pants and loafers with tassels and a tie knotted at the net. It was our little Hank. Fresh off the turn-up wagon. Now, Henry, agency copywriters tend to nurture the look that they've slept in their clothes even if they didn't because that's advertising. It's all image. So now, not only does my big break hinge on a junior writer, it also hinges on a junior writer who doesn't get it. We have four days to pull together our end of the campaign. Basically, that means headlines tomorrow morning, rewrites tomorrow afternoon, comps that night for next morning's meeting, copy fleshed out that afternoon for the next morning's meeting, then finalized for that afternoon to finish dark and then to the client. We agreed to meet in three hours. Right, Hank? Three, not two. I was going easy on you. And do you remember what you brought back to my office, Hank? Do you? Shit, pure shit, shit about clean shades and smooth skin and looking like a man. The clock is ticking and what do I decide to do? Remember, Hank, what's my number one rule? To lunch. I don't want to be seen in the usual places, not with this character. So we grab a cab, go up to Remington's. I know no one will see us there. And Hank seemed almost relieved when we walked in. It's still your kind of place, isn't it, Hank? Best burgers in Boston? Yeah, best burgers, anyway. We talk the afternoon away, not about razors or advertising, but everything else. Where we lived and what we wanted to do with our lives. But for all of those hours we spent in that dark bar, not one word about where we came from, not one. I went home that night and if memory serves, I drink every drop of vodka I had. I still got it in the office, the first thing. And the red light on my phone was flashing. I didn't recognize his voice. It was hoarse, it was scratchy, it was like. Hey, call me when you get in. I did. And a few minutes later, a figure stood in my doorway holding a single sheet of paper. Hank. Here in cold, wearing the same clothes he had on the day before, sans jacket, sans tie, his shirt half out and his pants wrinkled. It's not very good, he said. Oh, God, I thought. He handed me the paper and it was one single line of copy. Not eight, like he talked about. One. And as we explained his concept, I went from anxious to calm to limp. I wanted to kiss him. Eight ads, eight different images of men's faces, tough men, construction workers and firemen and fishermen and train engineers. None of these, each one, his one single line beneath this beard lies the face of a baby. Hank said that no matter how tough, every man is just like a baby. Needed care and love. Listen about razors of personal care. It's about real people, real men. Remember what we named it, Hank, the campaign? Yeah, we called it the baby face campaign. Baby face campaign. And they didn't take it, they didn't like it. No, but they should have. Never count on the client to do the right thing and that, every is how we became roommates. Billy crosses to Hank and lays his hand gently on the side of his face. Then he pulls his hand back and slaps Hank hard. Baby face. Billy anchors into that house. I'll put him on a plane tomorrow, send him back to Boston. Good idea. I'll stay on. Summer brought hay season. I will stack the hay bales while Henry drove tractor. He'd sit atop tractors, one arm spinning the wheel and his other arm resting easy on the fender. Following round and round the raked hay into tighter and tighter concentric circles, like Theseus following his string back out of the minotaur's maze. Only inside, instead of following his string out of maze, Henry found it deeper and deeper into an open space. Sweeping clean with a baler, any sign of our passage along the earth. Leaving no trace, no path of which to return as he drove us slowly and methodically and unrelentingly to the exact center of space. So quiet there. Out there, two tiny figures lost. Maroon floating in the heat. And it was most quiet at the instant when the last bit of hay was churned up into the baler and Henry would cut the power to the baler and for an instant we would float. And I noticed the sound of the wind and the light and the absolute absence of anything around us. Lights down and the back one. Tank is setting up a string of mole traps in the yard. The trap line follows the meandering of the mole. And in doing so, the yard takes on the appearance of a croquet cord made up of medieval torture vices. In two weeks' time, Henry got noticeably worse. And Henry's distrust of outsiders, including neighbors, nurses, or hospice workers put it all on my shoulders. Running the farm, taking care of it. I knew a thing or two about cancer from mom, but this rapid degradation on Henry's physical being was alarming, this physical decay and rot, the stink. We witnessed the seasonal decline of nature and call it natural and beautiful. But it was just the opposite for me with Henry. I thought nothing beautiful about him. And it seemed that just as Henry's natural evolution repulsed me, it seems my attempt to prove to him how much I wanted and deserved my rightful place also seemed to have the opposite effect on him. The porch in the yard is not as tidy as it was before. While before there was clutter, at least it was neat clutter. There are numerous yellow egg baskets filled with eggs in need of cleaning. Laundry is flung over a closed line strung haphazardly on the porch to open the porch railings and chairs. Henry enters from the house. He has gotten noticeably worse. He's sallow with his lost weight. He now carries a small bottle of oxygen. His movements are labor and painful. He shuffles to the porch rail and suddenly vomits over the rail and continues to do so. Hank notices but doesn't respond at first. He finishes setting the trap line before attending to Henry. Henry sits on the rail and Hank starts grabbing the laundry and stuffing it into a wicker closed basket. You're not doing too good today, are you? No, I'm not. The doctor said you had good days and bad ones. Well, he got that right at least. Jesus, I can't believe it. Those traps might catch pee. These are just to shoot the damn thing. That's the way I kill wolves. Each his own, I guess. That's right. I don't have to sit on the porch and wait for my traps to do the work. These eggs need cleaning. Yeah, they do. They need cleaning by tomorrow. Harold comes for them for tomorrow. That's tomorrow's problem. I've got it covered. Oh, you've got it covered? I'm going to run out and check on that saw and let her, she rolled over on another one yesterday. Now there's just five. Shit. Yeah. Hank all over. Feeling like that saw will over me. I'm thinking of grabbing them all and bottle feeding them. Well, the piglets? What for? So she won't kill anymore? I'll kill them faster than if she rolls over them. Just let nature do her work. I can take care of them. What are you going to do? Sit up nice, bottle feeding pigs? I'm already sitting up all night with you. She can take care of them fine. You always lose some. Henry, we've got a nice healthy litter there. There's a bore you can make with the rest of the litter, those sows, and any more litter. You've got to take care of them. You're telling me how to raise hogs now, huh? Now just say, shit, Henry, you know I'm right. I never breastfed a pig in my life. I am not. Breastfeeding them for God's sake. I'm just going to hand feed them with a bottle and a nipple. Jesus. You want a milkshake before I go? You're going to give it to me in a baby bottle? Go get it up your ass if you don't want to. Do you want one? What's the use? I'll just throw it up again. You've got to put something in you. You don't have to eat. I'll just throw it up again. You've got to eat, otherwise those doctors will come and stick a tube in you and feed you that way. Don't want one. All right. One of those Grover boys will be over sometime this morning. He's going to clean and box these eggs for me. What the hell? What? Hell no, you ain't bringing no goddamn groves over here to clean eggs. You ain't bringing no one on my property to do my work. Now you, Henry, what? I hired a couple of kids to take care of the chickens in the garden. What in the hell did you do that? The other day, I was going past their place and they were out in the yard so I stopped and asked what they wanted to make some money. They're just kids. You went behind my back and hired a bunch of Grover's and hell over to my place. They're just doing some light chores. If you can't do your work, just say so, but you don't go around telling people. And don't go bringing all Grover's around here. Don't be bringing nobody onto my property. Henry, it's a business. This farm is a business. Business? Business? Where the hell you come up with this stuff? Bottle feeding pigs and business. This is a family farm. Henry, I'm doing this for the family. I'm hiring people, kids, paying them a couple of bucks to get some of this shit work out of the way. Why should I clean eggs? My time can be better spent overseeing things. Oh, you're too good to clean eggs, huh? You can scrub and hang it overseas at the same time. What are you, helpless? You got your traps working for you here? You got the goddamn Grover's helping you there? Pretty soon you'll have this farm on itself and it'll be like a goddamn country fair around. You wanted me to prove I want this farm and that's what I'm doing. Oh, that's what you're doing. This farm's been here for over 100 years with nothing but family running it, but that's not good enough for you. Hell no, you gotta stir up the pot. What did you think? I'm trying to intentionally ruin everything for you? Maybe some of the little things a little differently. My idea is to carry the family into the future instead of stagnating in the past. Stagnating? What are you talking about? You know, stagnating. Things just festering, not getting better. I'm talking about hogs and soybeans. I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I can move this family into the future. What the hell do I care about the future? Right, sorry, wasn't thinking. You think you can just waltz in here and take over? Over my dead body, you will, and I'm eating that. Bring the strangers around. I ain't dead yet, not by a long shot. Now are you to clean them eggs or do I have to? The lighting should suggest the lighting should suggest coolness and doubtful sunlight. A low hill with a few trees and mowed grass and emptiness and the absence of everything around it. We didn't have much in the house to eat, so I hopped in the Chevy and drove the hard eight miles to St. Peter's. Brookville would have been easier. It's a longer, but the roads are better and there's the A and P that would have had a lot more. But St. Pete's got the most of what you need. A little store, a parking lot station, the church, and the graveyard. I got a pound of ham, the real kind, not the boiled kind. A loaf of sunbeam bread and some yellow mustard, a couple of cartons of milk. Then I wandered over to mom's grave. Alice Ann is sitting on her gravestone. The tableau has the feel of Vlad Achele's birth of Venus. The slight breeze rustles her hair and breasts. There she was. Just her name, date of birth and date of death. No loving wife of, no loving mother of, no caring sister of. Henry picked it out. Figures. I would have written something special. Look at you. What'd you do, steal your uncle Henry's truck? I always said, if I was one of the apostles, I'd have stolen the keys of the donkey. Look at you. How's farm life treating you? How's Henry? Look at my hands. Oh my God, what's happened to them? They're just blistered, that's all. Henry's not looking up on me. Harvard never killed anybody. Harvard and blisters, didn't he give you any gloves to wear? It's all right, really it is. You should wear gloves. You need a haircut. Look at your clothes, they're filthy. You shouldn't have sent me out here with good clothes then. Oh, a city boy, they never understood why a nine year old boy didn't have work clothes. I still tell people we were too poor to send me to summer camp, so you sent me out here to work. We weren't poor, and you liked it. Yeah, I did. I'd always get the runs from the well water. Henry, like I've seen you. I'm no good at this, Mom, I'm not, none of this. I'm not a run of fun, I don't know how to take care of Henry every morning, I get up and I'm so damn tired. Henry doesn't sleep in the barn, and I can hear him all the way in the house peeking all over himself. That's how loud he is. The fields, the garden, everything is going to happen. Just make him comfortable, Henry. Hopefully it won't be much longer, I hope not, at least then you can worry about the garden and the pig. He makes me sick. He snows, I don't want to touch him, but I have to. It's going to get worse, Hank. I know. I know, oh God, he's an animal. Hank. I can't stand to touch him, or to look at him, and so I just pretend he's livestock, a sick pig or a cow, and that's how I do it. But I don't know how long that's going to work. Dying's not pretty, Hank. I'm going back to books and somebody else can take over. I've done my bit. Thank you, Hank, you're the only one. If you go, he won't have anyone, and you really will be an animal then. He'll die just like some animal that dragged itself into the woods to die. He tinks, the doctors have to feed him chocolate milkshakes to keep him strength up, but he no more finishes one and he throws it back up again. He's rotting from the inside out. He has cancer, Hank, it's in his bones. Once he starts shooting his pants. He has cancer, Hank. How can you be like that? Like what, Hank? Nobody took care of you. You died alone. I don't remember Henry being around for you and you and him were. Brother and sister, we were brother and sister, Hank. He could have come and taken care of you. I had of us been. Yeah, well, where the hell was he? JP, we all do the best we can, Hank. JP did the best he could. He kept his promise. Hank, he loved me right up to the end. And my goodness, how that man could love me. Oh, Hank, it's true, stop it. I never met anyone like him. I knew he was different from other men. The minute I laid eyes on him and he loved me, I know that. And I used that knowledge to my advantage. I asked more out of JP than any woman would have dared to ask out of any other man. And he didn't always like it, but he stuck with it. He kept his promise. You died alone, Mom. I found you dead in the hallway. You were crawling to the bathroom and you died there on the floor, remember? I do. Your night count was pulled up and you died on the floor with your eyes open and your mouth open and that's how I found you. You were so little. You're such a little man. Are you scared like you were then? No. No, I'm not scared when I'm with you. You? Not when I'm with you. I never understood why misery loves company, Hank. Why do people say, well, I suffered so you have to suffer too. I walked two miles in the snow so you should too. Shouldn't it be if you suffered, you don't want anyone else to go through what you went through? Shouldn't it be that we should wanna stop suffering in the world, not preserve it? Hank, take care of Henry. Do your best, but don't quit. Don't run out on him. Hank, we all end up the same place. The only difference is how we get there. Pine box, Hank. We all end up there. So, make Henry's last weeks on Earth as pleasant as possible but he still wouldn't end up there? I wasn't talking about Henry. I was talking about you, Hank. What is it? Henry's leaving me to his farm. He showed me the papers. That land's been in the family for three generations. You've made the force. What am I going to do with it? I don't know anything about farming. Henry hates all my ideas. He won't let me hire anyone all new in the place. I'll starve and you made a laughing stock all at the same time. You always were a worrier. What do you care what anybody thinks that there's weeds in the garden and hogs ruining in the field? What do you care, huh? And Henry always did like to keep things in the family. Take care of him, Hank. All you have to do is take care of him and before you know it, it will be all over and that arm will be... Hank picks up the groceries. This was supposed to be Henry and my supper should have left him home alone. Alice and watches Hank leave. J.P. enters and passes Hank who notices something in the breeze. Don't worry, Scooby Pie. Hank jumps into the pickup. We hear the door slam, the engine start and the truck drive away. You always were too easy on him. Now don't start, J.P. Call the man like that. He's still such a baby. I'm talking about Henry. If Hank wants that farm so bad he should haul the old fucker into court. Carve a hunk of DNA out of his backside and prove once and for all that one thing we all suspect. And what's that, J.P.? I'll show you which is I can give a arithmetic. I can add. I can count up to nine. J.P., we've been over this. Babies are born prematurely all the time. Boys. All over the world. Boys gotta read to know. No, what? For classic, there's nothing to know. Isn't there? No! Pisting on something different. You put that idea in his head and that poor boy has just suffered. You knew he was home that day. You said it yourself. I'm peeking over the window sill. You stood under his window and you just planted seeds. That's what you did, seeds of dissent. Let them die, J.P. Let them die. Just a question, that's all I have. J.P., he's your son. I've told you that. Why don't you ever believe me? I already love you now. You want me to believe you too? You are! So exasperating sometimes. You know that. That's what makes me so damn charmed. That's what makes me such a damn idiot is what it does. I have no idea why that boy wants all that dirt, but I wish I had the money. I'd buy that farm for him, so he could just go home. You would do that for him, wouldn't you? Yeah. And of course, that's easy for me to say, not having the money. I'm afraid he wants more than just the farm. Maybe he's got more of his daddy in him than you thought. He always was bullheaded. I figured he got it from your side of the family, though. He's not sweet like me. No, he isn't. Maybe I should do what you did. Just sit him down, give him some fatherly advice, like I used to. You never did that in your life. Well, maybe I could start. You know what, this is never too late. Don Phillip, don't you go start a trouble. I mean it. Let sleeping dogs lie. Let Henry die in peace and let Hank get in his farm. That's all we've got to do, right? Don't rile Henry, just wait for Henry to die and we all go back to minding our own business. Yes, that's exactly right. You want him to have that farm now too, don't you? Only one thing wrong with that sugar bridges. What's that? We all got a right to know. We all got a right to know. Lights shift. JP comes around. It's night. Hank is driving home on a rough back road in the pickup. The truck bucks and rattles. It's a pitch black moonless night with nothing illuminating the scene except the dashboard lights and the headlights reflecting off trees and road. Sitting next to Hank on the pickup's front bench is JP, who is loose, drunk and in high spirits. He's got his foot up on the dash, his right elbow out the window and he's drinking from a pint bottle of seagrams. He'll ride in silence for a while, then... Did nobody ever tell you to pick up a chapter, Zanky? It's dangerous! Dangerous! Down, down, down Out on the road late one night I see my pretty Alice in every headlight. Alice, down, down, down, down Alice Alice down, down, down You wouldn't get laid, racer. You don't want to end up wrapped around no trees and be in a terrible place to die, wouldn't you? It's Wade. Great, the song driven the back roads So I wouldn't get Wade. Not Wade. What the fuck is Wade mean? Why the fuck wouldn't you want to get laid? He's driving a truck. He's driving a truck and they weigh trucks on the interstate, so he stays off the interstate and drives on the back roads to avoid weigh station. Oh, weigh station! Is that what that song's about? It's what that line means. You fucking little smartass. So, what you gonna do, fucking smarter pants? You, uh, are you running or- I know what you do. Well, hell yes, I know what I do. I bury that fucker in the backyard, up to his neck, then run along! We know farm, one's a little different, huh? Now, your circumstances are mine. Maybe he ain't leaving you no farm either. It wouldn't be the first time that someone bitch lied for his own game. What would he have to gain? You don't have somebody to wipe his ass from? Henry isn't like that. Well, that's for sure. Rather wallow in his own shit than actually reach out to somebody, so you're gonna hold your nose, so in the end you can be the proud owner of 300- Not a gold digger. Not gonna clean up his shit just like I'm a fawn in the end. Oh, well, no, hell no, you got principles. Yeah, you'll put on an apron and clean a house, let some guy dick you up the ass, but no sirree, you ain't gonna clean up no shit! You gotta stand, as well. Let me tell you something, you little cocksucker. You don't know shit about principles. There might be other reasons why I don't want the fawn, but that's got nothing to do with it. That's beside the point. You think about taking care of your family, something you know nothing about. Don't you fucking judge me. Don't you dare fucking judge me. You don't know me enough to judge me. Oh, well, isn't that ironic, JP, considering you're my father? Oh, shit, what's the matter, dude? God damn, you're a fucking prize, you know that? You're not a fucking prize, you're a country boy in the city, and a gay boy in the country. You don't know up from down, you don't know shit from China, all the dude. Well, considering the role model I had. Fucking role model. I hate the role model. Yeah, well, that's obvious. Well, shut up. You think you're the first person on this planet that didn't know what was going on? What, you looking for answers? Go around, I'll tell you. You're all answers. Fucking minute of your life. Pretend that you're a mature, intelligent human being that's leading a useful life. Oh, boy, you are one desperate, sorry ass son of a bitch. I see my pretty eyes in every headlight. What's the purest, most beautiful thing you can think of? I don't know. Well, come on, think. What's yours? I asked you first. Well, I can ask you second. Jesus Christ, just answer the fucking question. What do you think about it? When you think about something nice, I don't know. Guess I always think back when I'd be in my bed just before I fall asleep. It's like we were real family then, like you'd see on TV if you're on. Yeah, yeah, remember that? Yeah, you had the puppets in the air. There he is. Yeah, dangling there from the ceiling. Yeah, their streams would get all knotted sometimes. And you'd make me untangled, though. And you had that little rat in the cave hamster. Was that hamster? Not a rat. His name was Mr. Chumps. Yeah, that's right. Boy, you were a funny little kid. All right, well, now there's where you go. There's your home. When things get all tangled and you get so tired, your breathing gets labored, and your thoughts do that sickening thing they can do going too fast and too slow at the same time. It's hard to explain, but that's what they do. That's where you go. You just put that in your head. That's not a home. It's a nice stop. That's not a home. A house with a family in it. Well, let me tell you something. You're out in this world alone. And you need some comfort. Yeah, you have to find it wherever you can. And if you can, keep it inside you so you can pull it up whenever you need it. That's good. I mean, I don't know. It ain't no house. I know that. But it makes you feel like a house would. What the hell's the difference? You tell me that. So what's yours? Pull over. Pull over. I said pull over, goddammit. Hank stops the truck abruptly. The tire's skid on loose gravel. JP gets out. The hot truck engine ticks as it cools in the night air. JP slams the truck shut, and it makes an empty metal sound as hollow as a drum. There are night sounds. JP leans in the window. Yeah, mom. Pretty thing I've ever seen. First time I've ever laid eyes on her. She was wearing this old barn coat. I turned around fast because I didn't want her seeing me with my jaw hitting the floor. And I'll tell you this. When I looked into her eyes, it's like I knew her my whole life. And not just this lifetime, but all eternity. And she needed me. I could see that she... See that just looking at her eyes. She needed me, and it scared her to death. She needed me to teach her what love is, and how a man and a woman can be when they lay down together. She needed me for that. And I'm afraid she flunked that lesson, but she flunked it good. But I needed her too. I used her just like she used me. When we laid down together, and I turned over and see her face in the light, it was like I was a child. And not just any child. The child. That crazy, scared, confused, happy, hopeful little shit of a kid. We all were at one time. When the heat coming off our heads, could breathe life back into a dead man. But I will never allow myself to be that child again. I won't beg, and I will never let someone see me like that again. JP and Hank continue looking at each other. JP then chucks the bottle on the seat of the truck and disappears into the night. Hank watches him, following him with his eyes, and continues to stare where JP disappears. Hank picks up the bottle, considers it, opens it, and takes a pull. He puts the truck in gear and spins out on the gravel road. He floors it. Warped by the rain, driven by the snow. Drunk and dirty, but don't you know I'm still dead. Light brings on early morning at the house. Hank, from skinning into the yard of the truck, he gets out and re-enters from the house. Where you been? Worried about him? I need the truck. You can barely stand up. What do you need the truck for? Hank starts ripping the mole traps out of the ground, throwing them to the side. I'm going to Brookstil. What are you going to do there? I don't ask you what you're doing, do I? Yeah, you do all the time. What do you want? I'll get it for you. Thought you were made to sit in the pigs. I'm maybe sitting you too, wiping your ass. You're just another piece of livestock to me now. What do you want in Brookville? Getting up on the mole traps, huh? Yeah, it's just better to blow them out of the ground. You were right. Now you're talking sense. I'm keeping the pigs up here, though. They're doing good away from their mother. It's your business. Yeah, it is. Now, what do you want in Brookville? I want to settle up with the Agway. There's nothing to settle up. We're settled up. That's for me too, John. It's no matter, Henry. Don't you believe me? Jesus, I don't have to get your permission up. Ah, no. But you two, they have sick to dry. My own business. I'm wanting to see my lawyer, all right? You know, you could have just come out and said it. I'm just crossing my T's and dotting my I's. God damn it. He said you'd lie. He said you'd lie to help yourself, but I never would have believed that one. Who said that? You showed me the papers, Henry. You tell me now. Who said I was lying? You showed me your will, you son of a bitch. You ran Billy off and strung me along just so you'd have someone to wipe your ass, you self-centered old goat. Who said I was lying? Sit down! I'm gonna knock you down. Hank pushes him to a chair. You're looking worse than a dog. If you were a livestock, it would put you out of your misery a long time ago. I'll clean you up, then I'll take you to your lawyer. It makes no difference to me. Hank gets a washbasin and rifles through Henry's pockets for his barlow. Hank ties a towel around Henry's neck and leans him back. Hank ladders Henry's face and sharpens the knife on straw. He then begins to shave Henry's face. I guess all this wasn't such a good idea, was it me being a farmer? It's not for everybody. Still, you didn't give me much of a chance, head ram. Why does it feel like you had me set up all along? I knew you couldn't run this farm. I knew it from the start. So why'd you let me try? It wasn't my idea. It was yours. I didn't ask you to show up the day you did when you did. I was just sitting here on the porch of my own business, and you showed up. What'd you come for? I'd sell you under a dollar of cash. To where'd you glad to see me? I'm not sure. This is a conversation I should be having with a knife at my throat. Oh, what's the matter, Henry? Don't you trust me? Is there a reason this knife ought to slip, aside from you throwing me to the side so you can cash in your chips? Why don't you just put that thing down? Don't worry, Henry. I trust it, no. Now you're just going to have to trust me. I'm not going to let you throw it. This is just like skinning a rabbit. And I'm not going to desert you. I got nowhere to go. You're all I've got now, Henry. Just you and me now. I'll take care of you. I'll wipe your ass if I have to. Feed the priests some nice things to say about you since he won't know you from Jesus Christ himself. Make sure you get a decent burial there next to Henrietta. I want to be buried next to Alessane. There's a plot next to where I bought and paid for it myself. Yeah, well, there's a plot next to your wife, too, and that's where you're going. J.P. can have the one next to mom, or I'll just plant the tune. Goddamn it, Goddamn it, Goddamn it, J.P. J.P. is not going next to Alessane over my goddamn dead body. Henry, you are the master of irony. Do you know that? It is. And your dead body won't have a whole lot to say about it. He's her husband, Henry. Henrietta's your wife. That's the way things go. I'll get my lawyer. I'll take my body back up. I'm going next to her. Henry, I have to think you actually believe you can do that. I am sick to death of the lunacy in this family, and it's going to stop, and it's going to stop with me. Get it straight. Who's your wife? Who's your sister? And while we're on the subject, who's your son? You talk about a $100 question, we never could get this straight. You don't know what you're talking about. What the hell do you know? You were just a kid. You're still just a kid. Yes, I was just a kid. That's my point. Not what you're talking about. The hell you don't. You can't lay claims to mom. Your sister. And not me. But your mother and I had between us, you and I will never have. I'll slip your throat right now. What me and Alice Ann had was something way beyond brother and sister. You can't understand that. You're a no-positioner. Practically twins. You were 15 months apart to the day we were two peas in a pod. That's right. We were two peas in a pod. And then you come along. You. You run her off. You're the reason she left and married that damn JP. You. That's right. I left because I was pregnant. I came along. That's right. Henry, now we're getting somewhere. Where did I come from, Henry? Did I just drop out of the sky? Did you find me in a manger in the barn? Was it one of the grovers? Get her out of the woods? You know damn well where you come from. No, I don't. Was it JP? Huh? Henry was a JP mom. Always said, I took after him. It wasn't JP. JP came later. That's right. I needed a father for my baby, so JP came later. Well, then who was it? Who's that? There's the mystery. Who else could have had Almasand? It's hard for me to think of her with anyone but JP. What about you, Henry? Is it hard for you to think with her? With another man? It is so goddamn hard, isn't it, Henry? Yes, it is. Then why don't you just get it off your chest then? It's hard. Yeah, it's hard. Make it feel better. You, it was you. Henry, then say it. Say it, Henry. Say it was you. It was me, it was me. She was mine. It was you what, Henry? It was you that what? We did it everywhere. Out in the lobes, patched by the creek. Up in the barn. Night in the bed. There was only one bed for us kids and we just crawled in there like puppies. We did, Hank. Wasn't wrong. We were just like puppies. Alice and me were just like two peas in a pot. Then what am I, Henry? What am I? You know what I am, Henry. Say it. You're a bastard. You're a bastard and you should have been putting a slot for the pigs. That's right. That's what I am. I'm a bastard. I told her exactly what I am. I told her to throw her away. Then everything would be fine again. Just wait. But you wouldn't do it. You want to hear me call you that. But you won't. Because it ain't true. You're the son I never had. I never have son. Stay out of this. Are you listening to me, Henry? Because I'm going to tell you something. You listen good. She loved him. Him. JP. Not you. All you had to do was open your eyes. You could see it. You know it's true. That's why you hate him so much, isn't it? He's a drunkard. And she loved me, too. She left because she loved me. Not you. She handpicked JP for me. That's family. Henry. That's family. Henry sits slumped back in his chair. Hank picks up the shotgun. He pauses and looks at Henry, gauging him, measuring him. He touches the barrel to Henry's throat. Henry's having a hard time breathing. Then Hank descends the stairs and goes around the back of the house. The ringing of cicadas is low, but slowly rises until the sound is extra loud. Alessandro sends the porch. We hear a shotgun fire and pigs squealing. The cicadas abruptly stop singing. Stone cold silence. And then the shotgun fires four more measured times. Between each gunshot, there's the sound of Hank locking and loading the shotgun. And every time Hank takes careful aim and fires, there's one less piglet squealing. The last piglet squeal is particularly loud and shrill and frightened. At the same time, Alessandro lifts the towel from around Henry's neck. Then she carefully places the towel over his face, then pulls it down hard. Henry struggles, and she pulls harder until the last piglet dies. The lights ease down to late afternoon. There's a black ribbon tied around each one of the porch's posts. The light is softening to a pinkish hue. There is a relief to the day. As the air cools, there's even a breeze. And life responds with contempt. Birds twitter in the nearby bushes. Bees make one last run for nectar before heading back to the hive. Hank and Billy emerge from the house. Hank is dressed in suit pants and a dress shirt. No tie. He's barefoot. Alessandro is off to the side, watching. It's time. I should be getting back. Thanks for coming. Appreciate it. Yeah. Sure you can't stay for supper? I can fry out some pork chops. There's plenty of beer left in the trough. We can make a night out of it. No, I really have to return my rental and my flight gets in on a big night. You'll be waiting up? It all came down on Monday. No. I didn't want you to find out some other way. I didn't want to have to write a dear Hank letter. I appreciate it. He's good, huh? Well, I'm still eating takeout. He works late, comes home from the office, and after a stint of rubbing my cutses, he works on his spreadsheets while I read people magazine. I didn't think he would be my type, but then I doubt he'll run off to the heart of darkness in search of himself either. And he insists on paying half the mortgage. You have to love these modern men. No, there you go. It was good seeing you. I'm sorry for everything. Yeah, me too. Take care of yourself, Scrimshaw. Romain. You too. I love you, Scrimshaw. But I'll never understand you in a hundred years. Drive safe. Billy starts to hug Hank. It stops. Billy exits. Hank stands down by the road. We hear a car door slam, an engine start, and the beep beep of a small car's horn. The car drives off. Hank stands with his hand up, frozen, in a way you could buy. Look at you. Look at you. Sorry about your bow. Yeah, sorry for everything. Been good, Hank. I'm proud of you. J.P., your daddy, he'd be proud of you too if he was here. So what are you going to do now? Well, for starters, I guess I have to buy some hogs. Yeah, I guess. The Grover's stopped buying. So the old man, he's not a bad sewer. They're going to give me a hand. I thought I'd rent the lower south field to him. He gave up a lot. Yup. Fourth generation. Yeah, not a fourth generation. Hank, about Henry and me. No. Now listen, Hank, you listen to me. We were just kids. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen. Some people just move away and start over and forget about everything. Other people, you, for instance, dig into their own past, like digging in the ground here. Roots. And there's no changing it. The past, and it's hardly ever pretty, but you find we're just not like that. None of us are. We want to be flowers, but most of us, most of us are just weeds. Are you scared? Not if I'm with you. Well, now, Hank, you know that, don't you? I guess I do. I'll visit you every Sunday. I'll put flowers on your grave on your anniversary. That'd be nice. You remember what I like? Yeah. Yeah? What are they? Pineace. You remember it. And in the end, there's a place for you there, too. Next to me. Alice Ann disengages herself from Hank. She gives a little wave before exiting. Hank crosses to the porch and sits in Henry's chair. He is alone. He brings forth a beat, uh, he brings forth a beat up notebook, a pencil stub, and begins to scribble in his journal. The land held secrets to be uncovered, hidden by space and the dense green living fog of undergrowth that caused the woods to simply fade away. Farther and farther, I wander the countryside, across furrows and corn stubble in and out among the sparkling trees and patches of sunlight, picking my way around fallen logs, ripe with lichens and beetles, slippery centipedes and woodworms, the far corners of the woods, and the far outreaches of the fields. I lay in the cool, green, luminous grass, that grew thick in a damp home, and felt the earth slowly and purposely reclaiming as deftly and patiently as a milk snake swallows an egg. Lights fade to black and to black. Then we'll bring you in here for discussion. Yeah, let's follow him. Let's do this. Yeah. Yeah, that's definitely a person. Hopefully it's a last. Great for that. It's, I mean, I wouldn't say it's fine, but because they didn't want to see us anywhere else, it was a big loss. Yeah. I know. So it was like we were focused on the camera. But last time, I was right. I mean, yeah, the trees, they're going to spin, but they're not. Yes. Yes. So that's the first one. I'm sorry. Yes, that's fine. You're not really going to say that. I didn't have one. Do you want another? No. Come on. Yeah, so you're in there. Great. I'm sure you're gonna love it. It is great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. It's great. For me, it's like that. That's why. Like, I'm going to be the best. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yes. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I can say for you you are talking about our culture. I believe it's the one that won the award. So, I think it was the one that won the award. I don't know why, but I don't know when it's the end. It's my turn to put the music to bed. You're always there. I know I still get trolled, but I'm not. I'm always here. Yeah, I'm always here. I'm always here. I'm always here. I'm always here. Okay. Okay, I'm going to check. Good. Good for you. Good for you. Okay. And I have a journey. A journey. I only have seen, right, Rui-ji, Dao. In 1970s. Oh. When she jumped out, she came out of New York. Right. This is the one. One of Dao's first thoughts. After she did Dao, Dao, she came out of New York. What a mayon. I think you should see Playsport. But that was a problem. I don't know. And she's at a beach. Sit down. Sit down. Right. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Okay. I'm just going to have to. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm just going to have to say something. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You said I wanted every boy? No, you said I wanted every boy? No, I'm sorry. I know. I know. Okay. I'm also, I, well I know this is just a kind of question. Do you know that all? Do you know that all? We're here to give up. We're here to give up. We're here to give up. We're here to give up. We're here to give up. We're here to give up. We're here to give up. I know. I know. Okay. I don't know. That's great. That's for sure. That's absolutely great. We're able to help you. But the only way that wall is a sword. That opening is sword. That is the most important part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. That's the best part. Okay Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh What's stuck out to you? What popped in the play? When were you most engaged or seen at the end of your seat? I'll say something. I have to say at the very beginning with the setting, the scene was really great. So you got a feel for the place. I think that's really important. The place and the feel and where Hank had left and come back to. And for me, I just felt like, okay, I'm in the world. As an audience member, that's really important to me. I liked the moments where things felt like they were just about to explode. Like, simmering under the surface. For example, with Billy. You know, seeing Billy where it's like, it's testing the water. Is it going to get there? Those types of moments. The moments with JP too, in the car, those types of like, it's so tense, you can feel it. But you know that the reason why it's so tense is because it's not exploding. You know, it's because it's staying there. And you're like, you just want them to say something. Just get it out and say it, you know. And those were the really compelling moments. Thank you. What popped from me initially was, I love dead people on stage. So they were like, oh, oh, oh. And realizing that the mother is not necessarily of this time that she is sort of ethereal and can do more than most others. That was interesting. That was exciting. I mean, I saw some head nods with that, so more than one people per person thought that. Yes, look. I thought the confrontation with Billy and Henry and Hank, that was the most, we were laughing a lot. That felt really a lot. And I agree the scene with JP in the car is very surprising and very, very long. Thank you. Yes, I just really loved the loving relationship between Hank and Alice. That was very obvious. I particularly, well, besides the fact that I mentioned John during the internship, during our little commission and how much I enjoyed the sense of place. I like the way laughs were drawn from these very, very tense and uncomfortable moments that, you know, if any of us had to experience firsthand, these would be incredibly unpleasant moments, but at the same time, while bringing the dramatic stakes for very high, there was always the continuum, the humorous level on it that you can get as an audience member. I agree. Thank you. I have to say as a person and as a gay man living already for 21 years here in the States, I actually felt like another reason why I probably don't want to go back home and face some of the, I don't know if reality did, but things that I don't really, well, yeah, reality is that I don't want to face because I'm so different now to what they think and how they live and all of that that I could stand in. So when I heard, and I saw the story, I thought, oh my God, this is another reason. I definitely don't want to go back there. There's no reason for me to go back there at all. Thank you for sharing. Another thing that kind of popped from me was Billy's monologue of how they met. I thought it was a really smart and fun way of almost having something totally blow up, so it kept us really interested and really on our seats, but then also giving this wonderful, beautiful backstory both into how they met and it also really revealed, I think it's quite easy to let a character like Billy kind of slip through the cracks and just sort of be a thing that we use on stage to tell more story about the main character, but you get this wonderful insight into him and it was just this sort of little tangent that was just, I thought, really beautiful and then also sort of the purpose of the play. Then we watched you make that decision not to say the whole thing. That was delicious. Thanks for that, John. All right. Were there any parts for you as audience members where you dropped out when you started thinking about your grocery list or looking at your watch? Definitely, yes. At the end of the first act when he goes back to his journal and writes, like the end of the scene is I'll tell him to go back to Boston tomorrow with a good idea and then he writes something in his journal and that was that. I just completely felt like I didn't need it. I just wanted to end everything. Okay. And I got to say I feel a little bit like this with the monologue at the very end of the play as well. I just could have done this way less of the original version. It's funny because that's the part I love because it's poetic and it's so much layering because the land and a lot of darkness but there's also a lot of beauty and journaling also for a style of poetic form. I agree with all of that but I think you could be done in about half to a third of the time. Any other thoughts? How do I start to be a little confused in the scene? The confrontation scene where Henry divulges, when Hank starts to be really confused with him before he divulges, it just wasn't sure psychologically. I felt like I missed a step or something. Exactly where? He starts to get really angry at him and say, I could just kill you now and I felt like, whoa, what happened? I couldn't follow psychologically his transformation. I felt the same way actually. It seemed like it just happened so fast but then I was thinking, when you're taking care of someone who's sick for such a long time and you're questioning what you are and what you're doing and why you're taking care of this person that you don't necessarily really love, so maybe that would be the reason why all of a sudden you just snap and say, I just want this person to die. I don't know but I felt the same way too. Why so suddenly? That was the reason why he just didn't have it. I lost some symptoms. I don't know if you wanted this to happen, but my rapport with Hank was severed at that point in a way that it never quite actually came back. Thank you. Rich, would you? Yeah, I saw his anger and his break from a car accident with JP. I thought that that's what set him off. I liked going to the scene I did with him humming the same tune, but if maybe some sort of anger, he can see some sort of anger building inside of him from that conversation so that you can tell like he's been driving all night, he's been swinging the jams in there. Seagrams. Thank you. Seagrams. I'm not sure if that's what you saw as the catalyst, that's what I saw as, but if you wanted some sort of build and like that, you can see the fury kind of coming in him and he's taking it out on Henry. I saw what might be happening is that he's afraid he's going to go change as well and makes him really angry, but then he doesn't even know if he really cares about the farm, so why would that make that dishes? Why would making that change anyway? Ian and then Grant. I mean, I kind of saw the same thing that Rachel saw because he's been driving all night after having this very different conversation with his absentee at least on paper father. And drinking, you know, sleep deprivation, some alcohol, emotionally tense conversation with things said and unsaid. I mean, that can make someone a little bit on the paranoid side and the behavior's going to be a bit off. And I think that I thought that was pretty apparent. You know, all the setup was given. Right, you know, we saw the setup in the preceding scene. Thank you. I have to agree with that. I saw the setup and also wonder what specific seeds JP planted that are festering that make him take an extra dime. Did anybody else have something to say about that specific grant? I think I do. Sort of yes to whatever I want to say, but I guess I got lost kind of retroactively where I did buy the arc of what he was doing. But then I was like, wait, let me backtrack. He didn't seem that impassioned about an identity or not knowing who or what he was in the beginning. And so the only reason that I was taken out of that little circle, that little arc was because I'm like, well, he doesn't... What was so bad about his life before? That part wasn't clear. It wasn't so much what was actually happening on stage. I was echoing back to the beginning and I was like, wait, I can't remember the problem that got him here. I can't remember the inciting incident that was so big that it got him here because it seemed like there was just the thing that he wanted to go find out, which I totally get, but that didn't snowball into something bigger that made him stay. There was that sort of stuff. But wasn't the content actually at the last couple of scenes that I thought was like riveting and PS, him dying by his dead sister putting a towel over his face is fucking awesome. That's like one of the sweetest stage deaths I think ever. So that's something about me. It was when I was enjoying and watching that, I was like, wait, but the only reason I can't really get it all the way into this is because I wasn't quite sure why Hank was doing all that because I remember not being clear to begin with. To add on to that, I think the closest thing that I got from what the problems began with was this feeling of being in this set and what's really interesting, I remember I'm like, oh, wait, this is where he's from, is that moment with Hank and Henry and Billy on the porch. And they're engaging in what they would normally do and it's just like riding a bicycle and Billy is in this entirely different world. And so I feel like at that moment I retroactively understood that he just doesn't feel comfortable. He thinks he's comfortable, but he's not actually that comfortable and being unemployed and whatnot, may have stirred up whatever it is that will allow him to sink. I think that maybe perhaps it would be more useful to really see that restlessness in the beginning of the play and that might help sort of, the audience understand that projector is like, how he gets this point, how important it is to know everything about where he came from. Thank you. I felt similarly, I felt there was a kind of aggressiveness to his character. It seemed like there were different junctures in the narrative where he could have said, okay, I kind of found out enough people have given me enough support, but he often said, no, I have to dig deeper and deeper and deeper. And I don't know if that's the sort of thing where you would want to give more kind of explication for why he's, he asked this hunger to really tear up all of these rooms around him, but it just seems sort of, it seemed like one could just take it as a characterization of this person and what he would do just, I don't know, well it's kind of like the beginning of versions of Venice is kind of odd because that play actually begins where someone says, I feel like doing this, I forgot the specific plot point, but the opening scene of that is kind of, someone has a win and it kind of kicks off this big sequence of events that pulls in all these other characters and so I think it's legitimate to do that. So, sorry, I'm rambling a little. It was just kind of a curious point that he was so determined throughout. Thank you. Oh, I was just, let me raise my hand. I was taking it, I mean the beginning when he's in the condo with Billy, he was talking about just the fake feeling of life and the emptiness and paying people to put in air conditioners and that whole world just felt fake and that he wanted to go back to his roots, back to the land and the earth and the mother, the mother of being earth and just getting back to that. So I didn't have a problem with him just suddenly, you know, waking up to me, you know, just sort of saying, wait a minute, this is a fake world of living. Thank you. Yeah, I love Billy as, Hank just doesn't fit anywhere. You know, he doesn't fit in the city, he doesn't fit in the country. You know, I think he's trying so hard to find a place where he can and that's why he's doing so much digging because he thinks that if he, it's almost like if he can find that one missing piece, that one thing that he can figure out his place and I don't remember the line that the mother said. She said something about how like, you're not quite a city boy, you're not quite a country boy. I don't. But I think she said something, something somewhat similar. She said he has a place in a pine box. But I do remember a specific line where he's like, he doesn't fit. Saying like he doesn't know why, I don't remember sure why they sent a city boy with no more clothes. Something around that where, I think, or anyway, but that idea of not belonging and so desperately wanting to. And I think that his writing is like, what his common thread is is that that's the only thing he feels like is a part of him. But even that, he's starting to lose a grasp on because if he has another job, he's not getting anywhere with it. His boyfriend keeps saying write a novel and he's not doing anything with his life. So I think that this is his way to find. I like the roots in the book and the idea that he's floating. He's constantly floating throughout this play, floating from scene to scene, person to person. And he's trying to find those roots that can actually ground him somehow to make him feel like he's a person and that he belongs and deserves to be the person here on this earth. Thank you. Let's use that as a jumping point to start and discuss where he thinks he comes from at first. So we have JP as a character and we have Alice Ann as a character. What do you think is an audience that JP and Alice Ann want and need in this play? I'm actually a little unclear on that. The only thing that I could kind of gleaned was that the only reason that we could see them, the only reason that they existed after death was because of Hank. That's all I could understand. That's the only reason why they're there because something in him is keeping them there. I didn't feel like they chose to be there. I felt like he, in whatever worldly way it happened or other worldly way it happened, the fact that he was not yet resolved and something kept them there. So that kind of fogged for me. There were wants and desires. I know they wanted to help him but I wasn't really sure how and I was like kind of the only thing that I could really get was that they, they're so, the only reason they existed was for him to help him with something. And at the end I guess it's to find out the truth but during the course of it I wasn't quite sure why they were there. That was a bad thing to know. Yeah, actually that leads me to something that I didn't realize until now. I was not, it was a pity that J.T. was dead. I thought he was still alive also. Man, that was special. Yeah, because he said there were a lot of things that made him so presumable that he hadn't been buried yet. And J. Ray's life. I thought he had just deserted him and somehow came back. I didn't know how. Okay. Do you have a comment? Did somebody raise your hand right there? Musting ghosts? Yes. Let's take it. Given how rich and complicated the conversations among the various men in the play out, it's really surprising how platitudinous the conversations with Alice Ann are. In her, she mostly says, look at you. I thought you did a great job of what you had. But she's how, ain't got here. And there's not much between them other than those kind of affectionate mother, son, no anger, no, not, not even very profound questioning. So, I'm surprised how little happens there. Even though she's dead. I mean, she could say anything. Thank you. Did you have a good job? I actually really liked how she was sort of reassured, maybe, that she didn't confirm or deny anything. And I think it's really hard to write a dead character who isn't either in the complete guiding hand or, like, is because Hank is completely crazy. I think she did a really good job of being of offering guidance in a sense that it wasn't completely guiding him. It wasn't directing his behavior and it wasn't making him, it wasn't pushing him into the crazy realm, which is really hard for a dead character to create. So, I thought that was really good. So, that's all I have. Rachel? Sorry for talking so much, but I see, well, I saw JP and Alice as, like, you know, the angel of the bellow on the two shoulder sports. Like, Alice keeps saying, this is where you belong. You know, JP's your father. Be nice to Henchy. And JP's like, oh, you're not going to get an answer to your question. You can keep digging, you know, and that kind of fuels his fire. She pacifies, pacifies, and he riles up. And I feel as if JP, what he wants is what Hank most wants, that thirst for knowledge. Because JP kept saying, even in the scene with him, now he's like, just tell me. You know, like, I can do the math, just tell me, and not getting that answer to the math name. So that's what I felt was JP's want, but that's, like, Hank's deepest desire as well. So, in a way, you know, the guy who raised him is kind of like his father as well. He has, you know, keep going. You know, I didn't think the Alice Ann character was kind of bland or idealized, but I also felt that she was weirdly cold and detached at the same time. And in that, in the end, that's what was a rather wonderful characterization of a loving, dead person. You know? So I feel like you get a note that actually feels right to me for that character. Before we wrap things up here, do you have any final questions for the audience? John, they have come to you over the course of our discussion. Um... Well, Monica, you actually sort of mumbled. You said you felt uncomfortable with Hank and Alice Ann's relationship. Yeah, I did. I think it's a little bit... Like, we're left at the end where he's only real connections with his dead mother, but that's like a little fuck-up for a room, right? I mean... This isn't a J-State, mom. I mean, he's been writing the jerks, I don't know. I mean, that end image, like the land swallows him the way he looks, makes swallows an egg. Like, what is that? He's like completely... I think there's like... Yeah, I mean... Okay, all along the trajectory of the play, which feels like kind of on the cusp of healthy and yet self-destructive, is wanting to know where he came from, wanting to know where his father is, wanting to connect with his roots, wanting to find some kind of life that he can identify with that's different from the life in the city that he grew up to. So all of those are... They're like kind of human developmental trajectory towards increased development, even if it's painful. But like, communing with your dead mother, who just like thinks everything you do is wonderful, and it's all going to be fine, that's like the opposite trajectory. And that's where we're left. And that is... Is disturbing. Any other final comments? Yes. One thing I want to say that I really like to play, and I... I assume it was intentional. Was this one sort of magical realism that sort of like, danced along the edges? Like, Boston was this condo, and then, you know, Highland Center was this bigger place. So much time was given to talking about it. And then the fact that we have this sort of communication with the dead that happens, and like a really unique way to each person, in the sense that the person is past, like something to that character. And... I really like that. It was a very good balance of that. I particularly like the way... the mythological illusions that kept cropping up, because they were kind of commentary on the structure of the play as well. The idea that, you know, the protagonist... you know, he has to get his work birthright, but he also must engage in a certain group, you know, a certain set of labors. Yeah, but, you know, there's the cleaning of the... Hercules has the cleaning of the stalls that he has to do. But, you know, the idea that they're the labors, the idea is that, you know, because it's already set up, it's not so much that, oh, there's a big revelation of a mystery at the very end of the play, and that we're all going to be shocked. No, it's already been laid out very early on. We just actually have to get the final confirmation. Because, you know, when... eating Spirits we're seeing Sophocles' new play, Anapis Rex. You know, Anapis Taranis. It's not like, oh my god, I had no idea I was going to end like that. You know, they did it, but they already knew. There's lots of foreshadow, even Sophocles. But the point was that we're going to take all these illusions, and it was representing much of the structure, these things that were finally going to get a confirmation. Thank you, and in the back here, I think the piece that we left pondering the most about is the way in which incest at the end was naturalized. Not to say trivialized, but almost. And given that it's such a universal and profound taboo, I'm sure that was important. I mean, it was the theme of the play, and yet it was primarily something to laugh a little nervously about. You know, not that much different than the sour lane over on the tablets. But we are in a genetic age where I think somehow it's connected to the flatness of the female character in the play, that it's such a minor thing in the end to reveal that this incest did in fact occur but it's not tragic like the Greek plays. It's just something that happens. That's what I'll pond. Thank you very much. Now with that, we're going to wrap up our questions, but John will be hanging out here, and I'm sure he would love to talk to you about his play. So thank you very much, and a round of applause for having said that. Thank you very much.