Kicking and Screaming THIRD DRAFT

Kicking and Screaming
Script

PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE TO READ THIS PLAY IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED. IT CONTAINS ELEMENTS OF 'IN-YER-FACE' THEATRE AND SHOULD ONLY BE READ BY THOSE WHO FEEL THEY ARE NOT EASILY OFFENDED.

I have tried to structure the script correctly however if there are some issues relating to the mechanics of the script then please inform me. However the main reason I have posted this script is to have the dialogue, the characters and the story/plot reviewed so I can improve them. Thank you.

UPDATE 27/3/12: I have updated the script and have also added two scenes, including a new ending.

Kicking and Screaming
A play in one act.

Characters:
Jamie, female, 23.
Mark, male, 30.

Words that are italicised are stage directions.

Scene One:
Jamie is preset lying asleep on the settee. She is wearing a hoody and a pair of joggers. The preset music occasionally features the sound of a crying baby. When the audience is in the song 'That's Entertainment' by the Jam plays and she starts to wake up after the first verse. Jamie then picks up a half eaten pot noodle from next to the settee and starts to eat it. She does not enjoy it. When she finally puts it down the music fades. She then routes around in the settee looking for the TV remote, turns it on and then lies back down and flicks through the telly. When she settles on 'The Jeremy Kyle Show' she drops the remote on the floor and puts one hand down her trousers. This is a comfort thing rather than a sexual one. After a few minutes her mobile phone rings. She withdraws her hand and takes the phone out of a pocket and answers.

JAMIE:
Alright Mark?

Pause.

Nah I'm not busy.

Pause.

Yeah of course you can come over.

Pause.

See you soon.

Puts down the phone. During the monologue she pulls clothes out of the washing basket and begins to change out of her hoody and joggers into a pair of jeans and a vest top or t-shirt. Once she is dressed she tries to neaten up the room.

When most people heard that me and Mark were going out at Uni they were surprised. I can't blame them. I was surprised. For one thing he's seven years older than me. He's one of them "mature students". He got his degree in business studies and then I think he got his masters specialising in business management or something equally soul destroying. Though I can talk. I've got a fucking drama degree and look where that's gotten me. Mark's parents were rich as fuck which in turn makes him rich as fuck. And he's a Tory. I know. A fucking Tory. Meanwhile I'm poor as fuck and directly related to poor fuckers whose job it was to mine coal out of the ground and who spent their evenings sharing a bed with their four brothers and sisters eating nothing but coal fucking sandwiches. I might be exaggerating a bit but they were poor. And they certainly weren't Tories. Mind you just because he's a Tory doesn't make him a total cunt. He's quite nice really. Pays the rent on this place for me because obviously I haven't got a job. In these tough economic times there aren't many jobs going for actors in the North of England. Mark's a manager of some company that makes fancy plates or something like that. He told me it's making money because no matter what the economic climate is the middle classes of England will never cease wanting to throw dinner parties. That made me laugh. It's funny our relationship. We're always either fucking or arguing. Or arguing about fucking. I love him though. I do. And I know he loves me. I'm not just being naive. I'm not a fucking kid. He loves me.

Doorbell

Come in!

MARK:
Hey Jamie, you alright?

She walks over and kisses him on the cheek. As they embrace a baby starts to cry. They both look up.

That kid from upstairs again?

JAMIE:
Yeah. Little brat it's always fucking crying.

MARK:
Why don't you go up there and complain?

JAMIE:
Nah fuck that. I'm not getting involved.

They move to the settee.

How was work?

MARK:
Like fucking Mardi Gras. How was sitting on your arse all day?

JAMIE:
Like fucking Mardi Gras.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence. Jamie turns on the TV and snuggles into Mark. They look happy and contented. They stay like this for sometime still in silence. The baby begins to cry again. Mark switches off the TV and kisses Jamie.

MARK:
Hungry?

JAMIE:
Starving.

Mark withdraws £20 from his pocket. He tosses it on the floor. She sighs. She kisses him back and moves down onto her knees on the floor. She undoes his trousers. Just as she goes to give him a blow-job there is a blackout. The baby cries throughout this exchange.

Scene two:
Jamie is lying asleep on the settee, a thin blanket is covering her up but it is clear that she is wearing a bra. She wakes up to find that she is alone. She looks around for Mark and then notices £20 on the floor next to the settee. She picks it up, half laughs and then turns her back on the audience and goes back to sleep. The baby isn't crying. Blackout.

Scene three:
Jamie is now dressed back in her jogging bottoms and a hoody. She is dozing on the settee with the theme tune of an easily recognisable day time TV program playing from the telly. We hear a microwave ping. She either enters the kitchen or exits and returns with a ready meal. She sits back on the settee and begins flicking through the channels until she lands on a cookery program. She sits in silence as she eats.

JAMIE:
Idiot's burnt his bruschetta.

More silence as she finishes her food. She puts the ready meal container on the floor and continues watching the TV for sometime in silence.

Lasagne, done in the microwave for eight minutes. Guess how much it cost? 85p. What a wonderful fucking world we live in. I can taste food from every country in the world for no more than a couple of quid. It didn't even taste that bad. 85p for an Italian classic and it didn't even taste bad. I'm living the dream.

Pause.

I wake up every day at about 12. Microwave some beautiful Italian cuisine. Watch fucking Jeremy Kyle and Ready Steady Cook until I fall asleep. Wake up at about four. Have a shower and then settle right back down in my lovely pit of despair and watch some more shit. Every day. I do this every day. No one told you about this part of being a grown up did they? No one told you about living the fucking dream.

Jamie settles back down for a nap as the baby begins to cry. Blackout.

Scene four:
Jamie is still dressed in her jogging bottoms and a hoody. The lighting should suggest that it is now mid afternoon. It is some days later. She is pacing the room whilst on the phone to her mother. She is irritable.

JAMIE:
Yes mam, of course I'm looking for a job!

Pause.

No I don't need to come home.

Pause.

Jesus Christ woman how many times do I have to tell you? Mark is taking care of the rent!

Pause.

Oh grow up you aren't even religious!

Pause.

You aren't!

Pause.

Look Mark's on his way over I've got to go.

Pause.

I've got to go, goodbye!

Puts the phone down on the settee.

Right pain in the arse my mother is. When I was 11 she lied saying she was a devout catholic in order to get me into the catholic school. She met a load of other catholic mothers and ended up going to catholic meetings and coffee mornings with them all, all the time in her head she thought "this is bullshit. This is bullshit". It went on for so long though that she stopped thinking it was bullshit and started believing. Started believing their bullshit. She told me that God's always watching and he always knows what I'm doing and what I've done. I told her she was confusing him with Santa.

Pause.

She never quite understood me wanting to be an actor. Never quite understood anything about me. When I moved out after Uni she assumed I'd give up on the acting thing and just get a nice well paid job in an office or something. In hindsight I probably should have done that. Anyway now she phones up every week asking if I have a job yet. And when I tell her no she does this sigh thing as if I couldn't be more of a disappointment if I tried. I think I was a disappointment from the day I was born. I remember her telling me the reason I was called Jamie was because she wanted a boy. She had only ever planned on having one kid and she wanted a boy. My dad was never like that. When I told him I wanted to be an actor he made me promise never to give up on it. Then he died. I'm glad he isn't here to see me disappoint him.

Mark walks in.

MARK:
Good news Jamie my darling I have pulled some strings and managed to get you a job interview!

JAMIE:
An interview?

MARK:
That's right! An interview at Starbucks.

JAMIE:
Starbucks?!

MARK:
Yes at fucking Starbucks! A mate of mine is a manager of the one in the high-street and he said they're hiring.

JAMIE:
Part time?

MARK:
Full time.

JAMIE:
Full time?

MARK:
That's what I said.

JAMIE:
Then thanks but no thanks.

MARK:
What?

JAMIE:
Thanks but no thanks. If I work full time then my job changes from actor who works at Starbucks for a bit of extra cash to Starbucks employee who does acting in her spare time.

MARK:
Are you fucking kidding me? You're not a fucking actor! You don't even have an agent. You spend every day sitting on the settee watching that telly and hoping that one day someone will walk in the door and offer you a fucking part in their play which will make you an indie success over night. You'll be adored by the theatre going public and respected by your fellow actors and critics. That's what you want, isn't it?

Silence.

It's time to grow the fuck up Jamie. The interview is next Tuesday at eight. Wear something smart and have a shower for fucks sake.

JAMIE:
No.

MARK:
No? You'll do as your fucking told.

Mark storms out of the room. We hear a door slam. Jamie says nothing. The baby has started crying again. She sits on the settee with her head in her hands. The crying gets louder, sounding as if it is coming from Jamie's head. Blackout

Scene five:
One week later. Jamie walks in dressed in a smart shirt and trousers. She looks thoroughly annoyed. The baby is crying.

JAMIE:To the ceiling
Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! Fucking hell do you ever stop fucking  crying?!

Mark enters

For the love of god please shut the fuck up!

MARK:
Are you okay?

JAMIE:
No I'm not okay that brat never gives me a minutes peace!

MARK:
How did the interview go?

JAMIE:
Shit.

MARK:
What did you do? How is it possible not to get a job at Starbucks?

JAMIE:
Oh fuck off Mark.

MARK:
Don't talk to me like I'm a piece of shit!

Pause

JAMIE:
I'm sorry. I am Mark. I'm just a bit stressed out.

He moves to her. He wraps his arms around he and they stay in silence for a few seconds. The baby is still crying.

MARK:
What happened? At the interview, what happened?

Jamie moves to the settee and sits down. Mark stands behind it with his hands resting on the back.

JAMIE:
I go in and there's these two other people. One of them is some eco hippy cunt with dreadlocks and a beard and the other is a blonde girl with tits so big you could probably balance coffee mugs on them. Then I'm called in. There's a dick head with slick black hair and this smug look on his face and -

MARK:
That'll be my mate

JAMIE:
And some woman who looked like she had a stick stuck up her arse. They look down at my CV and then back at me. She says, in proper condescending voice, "I'm sorry but it doesn't look like you have any barista experience." And I say "No. No I don't have any barista experience." Why did the bitch say she was sorry? She wasn't sorry. She was fucking delighted I didn't have any experience. Meant she could hire fucking tits or Mr. Eco Warrior.

MARK:
Then what happened?

JAMIE:
Then she goes "I'm afraid without experience I will be unable to offer you a job." So I stand up to leave and just before I go I ask "if you don't mind me asking, how do I get barista experience?" And do you know what she said? She said "well, you work in a coffee shop of course." how the fuck am I meant to get experience if no one will give me a job? It's fucking ridic-

Jamie is cut off by a loud bang. Jamie and Mark look towards the ceiling. The baby has stopped crying. They pause.

MARK:
I'm sorry the job didn't work out. And I'm sorry for being such a dick.

JAMIE:
No I'm sorry. You sorted out an interview for me and I acted like a spoiled brat. Let me make it up to you.

Jamie kneels up on the settee and turns around to face him. They kiss. Mark jumps over the top so he is sitting on the settee facing her. They kiss again and begin to undress. Blackout.

Scene six:
A few days later. Jamie is sitting on the settee in her hoody and joggers. She looks tired and ill.

JAMIE:
My dad died when he was potting some plants in the garden. He stood up, looked into the sun and said "It's a lovely day" then just dropped to the floor. Not dropped. No. No that's wrong. It was more like he folded. Like a deck chair. He folded onto the floor and stayed there. I thought he was kidding but he wasn't. He was dead. There was no struggle. No fight. No pain. He just went. His heart just decided to stop. I can't think of a worse way to die. I think about it a lot and I can't bare the idea of anything so simple. I want there to be a struggle. A fight. I want it to be violent and aggressive. I don't want to fade. I want to be scrubbed. Brutally scrubbed from the world kicking and screaming. I want people to hear about it and say "what a tragic waste of a life for a girl with so much potential." I want them to talk about it with their friends. "Did you hear what happened to that young Jamie girl?" and their friends will say "I know. So tragic that this could happen. That a girls life could be ended so violently and no one was there to help." I want to be stabbed or shot in a busy shopping centre. I want people to cry and hold me as the blood leaks out over their clothing. That's how I need to die. Kicking and screaming.

Mark enters and joins her on the settee.

MARK:
You haven't returned my calls in two days so I thought I should pop round. Are you okay?

JAMIE:
I've been thinking about our baby.

MARK:
Don't.

JAMIE:
I wonder if it was a boy or a girl.

MARK:
Jamie...

JAMIE:
I think about it a lot.

MARK:
Jamie shut up please!

JAMIE:
It's my fault.

MARK:
You asked me to do it...

JAMIE:
They're both my fault.

MARK:
By the time you told me it was too late for an abortion. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to do it did I? But you begged. You begged me to.

JAMIE:
And what did you do Mark? Did you tell me that I was crazy? Did you refuse? When I begged you to help me what did you do?

MARK:
I punched you in the stomach.

JAMIE:
Yes. Yes you did. I asked you to do it again.

MARK:
I did it again...

JAMIE:
You did. Once, twice, three times, four times right here.

She points to her stomach.

Then what happened?

MARK:
You started bleeding. We went to the hospital and I told you to tell them you'd fallen down the stairs. You laughed.

JAMIE:
I laughed because my flat doesn't have stairs.

MARK:
So I said to say we were at my place. You'd fallen down the stairs at my place. They took you into a private room and said you'd miscarried.

JAMIE:
They asked me if you'd hit me.

MARK:
You never told me that.

JAMIE:
They said all the evidence suggested that I'd been hit in the stomach. I told them their evidence was wrong. I'd fallen down the stairs.

Pause

I was desperate wasn't I Mark? I wasn't ready to have a kid and neither were you. I was desperate. That's why I asked you to do what you did.

Pause

MARK:
Why are you bringing all this up now?

JAMIE:
The baby from upstairs.

MARK:
What about it?

JAMIE:
It died.

Pause

MARK:
How?

JAMIE:
It fell out of its cot. He. He fell out of his cot. His tiny skull was cracked open on the hard floor.

MARK:
Fuck.

JAMIE:
They were neglecting him you know. They hardly fed him. Hardly changed him. One day when he was asleep they had left the side of the cot down too low. He woke up and leaned over the edge. Then he fell.

MARK:
Fucking hell.

JAMIE:
I saw them bring out his tiny body. Like a tiny broken doll hidden under a white sheet. It took one man to carry him in little more than a hand. He wasn't crying. He even looked bored. As if it actually was a tiny doll in his hand and not a little boy. A tiny baby boy called Daniel. Why the fuck wasn't he crying Mark?

MARK:
He's probably used to it. He's probably seen a hundred tiny broken dolls.

JAMIE:
Doesn't that make you sick?

MARK:
That's how the world is though isn't it?

JAMIE:
It makes me sick.

MARK:
My Mum told me a story once. A true story. When her Gran was a kid they had a maid. This maid must have been about fourteen, fifteen years old. She was so fucking poor that one night she let someone fuck her for money. She ended up pregnant and didn't know what to do. In those days you couldn't really get an abortion so she ignored it. One day she was sweeping the front garden path when she had contractions -

JAMIE:
Fuck -

MARK:
There was no one in the house to help and she just gave birth right there in the front garden. She panicked. Wrapped the baby up in her jacket and left it on the doorstep. She ran for it and this baby was just left crying on the doorstep. I guess she thought it would be safe. She forgot though, my Mum's Gran, she owned a dog.

Jamie vomits over the back of the settee.

I'm sorry. I don't know why I told you that. Are you okay?

Jamie is shaky but nods.

What happened after they brought out the body?

JAMIE:
The police spoke to me. Asked if I had ever heard any crying from upstairs.

MARK:
What did you say?

JAMIE:
I said no.

MARK:
What?

JAMIE:
I said no. "No I never heard crying. I'm so shocked by what has happened. It just goes to show what people can be like behind closed doors." and I said goodbye to the police then threw up everywhere.

MARK:
It wasn't your fault.

JAMIE:
Yes it was. Why didn't I phone social services or something? Because I couldn't be arsed. I should get the blame for his death but I won't. I should get the blame for my own child but I won't. I should be punished.

Mark tries to pull Jamie into a hug but she flinches away. She stands up and exits. Mark puts his head in his hands.

Scene seven:
Mark and Jamie are sitting on the settee at opposite ends. This is a stark contrast to how they were in scene one. The pair sit in silence for a while. Mark moves closer to her and attempts to kiss her. She flinches away from him.

MARK:
Why won't you let me touch you?

JAMIE:
I'm just not in the mood.

MARK:
I want to touch you Jamie.

JAMIE:
I said no Mark.

MARK:
What?

JAMIE:
No.

MARK:
You don't get to say no. I fucking own you and I want a fuck now!

JAMIE:
I said no, fucking hell Mark!

Mark moves towards Jamie and tries to grab her. She slaps him hard across the face. He grabs the back of her hair and raises his fist to hit her. Jamie is breathless with fear and excitement.

Go on then! Hit me!

He hits her across the face. If it is possible she should be bleeding.

Again!

He hits her again.

Do it again you fucking cunt!

He does and begins to get carried away. The pair end up on the floor. Mark backs away from Jamie who is lying very still. He his panting with the excitement. He drags her so her so she is lying side on to the audience. He undoes his trousers, removes hers (she should still have underwear) and begins to rape her. At the beginning of the struggle a baby can be faintly heard. It should get louder and more distorted until he climaxes. When he is finished he stands up and looks around the room in a panic. He grabs a cushion from the settee and begins to smother Jamie with it. After a couple of seconds he stops, realising he can't do it. He kisses her gently on the forehead and then takes £20 out of his pocket and drops it on the floor. He leaves. Blackout.

Scene eight:
Jamie is still lying in the same position. The lighting should indicate that it is night time. Jamie wakes up and is angry find that she is still alive. She vomits before getting to her feet and sits down on the settee. She is covered in blood, there is a lot between her legs. She spots the £20 note on the floor and begins to laugh and cry hysterically. She then goes either to the kitchen or offstage and returns with a note pad and pen, a bottle of vodka and an container of pills. She settles herself back on the settee and begins to write, and read aloud, her suicide note. Every so often she should pause to take several pills and a large gulp of vodka.


JAMIE:
Dear Mark,
You stupid bastard why didn't you kill me? It would have been so much easier to just kill me. You could have done it then claimed innocence. Now everyone will know. They'll know that you beat the shit out of me and raped me. Getting hit hurts a lot more than I thought it would. I was sure I'd end up dead and I was happy. The happiest I've been in a long time. It should have ended Mark. You should have ended me. Now I have to do it myself. Oh well, it's nearly done now. Tell my Mum I loved her and I loved you. I did love you Mark and I know you loved me. I know you did.
Goodbye.

Jamie stands up and heads towards offstage. She collapses before she can reach it. Blackout. Ambulance sirens.

Scene nine:
In the blackout the settee should be replaced with a hospital bed. The following dialogue should be done as a voice over while the scene is changed.

MAN: (VO)
Jamie? Can you hear us?

WOMAM: (VO)
It's alright Jamie, you're safe now. We're hear to help.

MAN: (VO)
Squeeze my hand for me Jamie love. Good girl.

WOMAN: (VO)
I thought she'd taken an overdose, why is there so much blood between her legs?

MAN: (VO)
Fucking hell... Someone's really beaten the shit out of her.

WOMAN: (VO)
Shit. Fuck. We're losing her.

Scene ten:
When the lights come up  Jamie is sitting up hugging her knees. She is wearing a hospital gown. She should have various drips attached to her to indicate she is a patient. She looks exhausted but not unhappy.

JAMIE:
Mark came back. He found me and phoned an ambulance. Said I'd taken an overdose then ran for it. No one's seen or heard from him since.

Pause

I'm going to live with my Mam for a bit. I think, I think I need looking after.

Pause

I've been talking to this nice woman called Helen from the psychiatric department. She's helping me. I needed help.

Pause

When I'm better I'm going to get a job, save up some money and then travel to auditions. Helen thinks that's a good goal for me to have.

Pause

I don't think I'd like to die anymore. I don't know how I'll feel when the anti-depressants have worn off but for now I don't think I'd like to die.

Pause

I think I'd like to live.

Blackout

The end.