Highway Star
Act 1 Scene 2
Tim and Phill are in a single bedded room. Tim sits on the bed, flipping through the channels on the TV with a remote control. Phill sits on a table surrounded on three of the four sides with chairs. A bathroom is in the back of the room with the door open into the room.
Tim:
I can't believe you only got one bed.
Phill:
I am not paying an extra forty bucks for another bed. If we could have gotten a ride another exit up, we could have gotten a room with two beds for the same price. These Sunshine Hotel rooms are a rip-off.
Tim:
And whose fault is that?! (Stops flipping through the channels) If you could've shut your mouth for more than ten seconds about your traumatizing "near death experience", we could have gotten to the next exit.
Phill:
About that. Why the fuck did you try to kill me?!
Tim:
Try to kill you? That's a bit of an exaggeration.
Phill:
You threw me into the road, in front of a speeding vehicle. I would call that trying to kill me.
Tim:
The guy had plenty of time to stop, Phill.
Phill:
I could've died back there!
Tim:
Could have, and did, are two different things. (Goes back to flipping throughout the channels)
Phill:
You're lucky I lived to complain.
Tim:
No, you're lucky you lived to complain. I have to hear you complain.
Phill:
I almost fucking died back there!
Tim:
So I've fucking heard And you've been talking about it endlessly since! Now lay off the car thing and chill. We'll watch HBO and be cool. (starts surfing through the stations)
Phill:
Do we even have HBO?
Tim:
We'd better. (flip, flip, flip.) AHHHHHG! One fucking bed and no HBO! This is one hell of a room you've selected for us, Phill! (continues flipping. then stops.) Ooo, Baywatch. (Phill stands up and stretches.)
Phill:
I call the bed for the night. (Walks over to the outlet and unplugs the TV)
Tim:
What the hell did you do that for? Baywatch was on!
Phill:
Point being?
Tim:
I happen to like that show.
Phill:
No... you like the chicks on the show.
Tim:
Yeah...
Phill:
The show itself sucks.
Tim:
I'm not quite sure where you're going with this... (Phill turns away, disgusted.)
Phill:
Turn on the radio or something.
Tim:
Do we even have a radio? Can we trade it for HBO or another fucking bed?
Phill:
I think it's on the alarm clock. (Tim hits a button on the clock and heavily distorted music emanates from it.)
Tim:
Well I'll be damned. (Adjust the tuner and some random song can be clearly heard through the clock speaker.)
Phill:
I'm beginning to wonder why I even went on this trip.
Tim:
You're fucking kidding me, right?
Phill:
No, man. I'm serious. Where are we even going?
Tim:
California. (laughs) I thought you knew that. (song ends, Tim switches stations, rolling through the stations on the tuner.)
Phill:
And then what, Tim? We'll have no cash left, and thus, no means of getting us back.
Tim:
Why would you want to go back? Blossumdale is so boring.
Phill:
It ain't so bad.
Tim:
I can start at one end of the town and walk to the other in less than an hour.
Phill:
It isn't that small.
Tim:
Until two years ago, our post office was a trailer.
Phill:
Still...
Tim:
Look, I don't want to pull you into this. I know it's all my little adventure. I just thought it would have been an enjoyable excursion for both you and myself. If you don't want to go, then by all means... go back. I'll go to the sunny beaches of California while you go back to dreary Blossumdale, Ohio. I'll understand if you completely pussy out. I honestly didn't expect you to make it this far. I knew it was only a matter of time before you ran back home with your tail between your legs.
Phill:
Screw you, Tim.
Tim:
Listen though, Phill. I've got to take this monster shit. (Stands up) So I'll be right back. (Exits to the bathroom in the back of the hotel room, along the side of the wall the bed is on. After a moment of silence, Phill speaks.)
Phill:
Tim has this crazy idea in his head that all anyone needs in their lives is a little adventure. So he plans this completely insane, cross-country expedition. And lets face it, it's not exactly running smooth. But aside from general homesickness, it isn't so bad. It's definitely more exciting than Blossumdale. Don't get me wrong now, I love the town. It's just that it's so... so... boring. There isn't anything to do. Even if you turn to drugs, you're bored out of your mind. So we hit the road. It seemed like a decent idea when it was originally presented to me. Now, though, I'm just a little sick of this trip. Just about every aspect of it. I'm sick of walking endlessly with a faint hope of someone stopping. I'm sick of the sun beating down on me all day, and the night giving me chills with it's coldness. I'm sick of sleeping in various, random hotel rooms. And I'm sick of Tims seemingly endless arsenal of ideas from his minds' ever diminishing level of sanity. (As if on cue (or on cue, technically), the toilet flushes and the bathroom door opens. Tim Exits the bathroom.)
Tim:
Damn! (coughs, gags) That was relieving.
Phill:
Your "monster shit" lasted about... (looks at his watch) two minutes.
Tim:
Yeah, crazy ain't it? Must've been all that grease. Lubes the terds right out of me. (Tim sits down on the bed again.) You know, Phill. The road ain't so bad. I've heard some horrible things about life on the road. But it don't seem so bad to me.
Phill:
How can you say it isn't bad? We have two hundred dollars between us to last us to California. And back.
Tim:
So we'll cut corners. We'll stop getting the good booze. We'll get the cheap, sleaze motels that charge you by the hour. And instead of happy meals, we'll just get a burger, small drink, small fry, and a toy.
Phill:
What the fuck?! That is a happy meal.
Tim:
You're insane.
Phill:
A burger, small drink, small fry, and a toy is a happy meal minus the box..
Tim:
All right! So I won't get the fucking toy! I can live without it.
Phill:
You're missing the point, Tim. That two hundred dollars has to last us the trip home too y'know. (Tim stares blankly back at hum) Did you even consider the trip home?
Tim:
Of course not. There is no trip home. I'm not going back to Blossumdale. I'm going to chill my ass out on the beach every day, all day; all year, every year. For the rest of my fucking life.
Phill:
Don't tell me you actually believe that to be a possibility.
Tim:
Why not?
Phill:
You don't even have a job. How are you going pay for a place to stay?
Tim:
I have a job!
Phill:
Two things, Tim. One- your job is on the other side of the country.
Tim:
And the second thing?
Phill:
You quit your job before you left.
Tim:
I did?
Phill:
Yes.
Tim:
No I didn't.
Phill:
Yes, Tim, you did. You were tripping, but you did. You walked up to Ted and told him to shove a pepperoni calzone up his-
Tim:
No fucking way!
Phill:
Yeah dude. Maybe you shouldn't do acid at work.
Tim:
Those are words to live by. For now I will just have to stick with these.(Pulls a joint out of his shirt pocket and holds it out upright, before him, admiring it.)
Phill:
Another good way to cut back on money is to buy cheaper liquor.
Tim:
And this is the day after tomorrow?
Phill:
Of course.
Tim:
And we stock up tomorrow?
Phill:
Of course. (Tim puts his joint back into his shirt pocket and lays down, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.)
Tim:
Wake me up when you're ready to head out.
Phill:
Fuck you, Tim. I called the bed.
Tim:
I'm on it.
Phill:
I paid for the room.
Tim:
I won the bet!
Phill:
You almost fucking killed me!
Tim:
Oh no. (gets up.) Not this again. Here! (motions to the bed) You can have the damn bed! (Phill lays down on it.) You fucking dick. (Tim stands around, all pissed off for a while)
Phill:
We need a serious source of income. Don't you have any hobbies?
Tim:
You could put you're hobbies to use too, y'know? (He kind of mumbles the rest of this statement.) Of course there probably isn't a sperm bank in town, Jack off the Ripper. (Finally sits down. Phill sits up to glare menacingly at Tim.)
Phill:
What was that, Dickhead?!
Tim:
What was what?
Phill:
What the fuck did you just say underneath your breath?!
Tim:
What? I don't even know what you're talking about.
Phill:
You said I could put my hobbies to use and then you muttered some shit under your breath! What the fuck did you say?!
Tim:
But seriously, Phill. I was thinking about something while I was on the shitter earlier. I've got an ingenious cash flow idea. You and I have like minds, you see.
Phill:
I'd hate to think so. (Tim stands up)
Tim:
Hold on a second. I have visual aids. (runs to the bathroom and reappears a moment later with a small piece of card board which reads "Will Work For Food") Well? What do you think? (Phill looks at him like he's a moron.)
Phill:
You're a moron.
Tim:
Have you ever seen these guys in action? They just stand there with their sign, and people give them cash. They toss them tens and twenties. They never have to actually work for a meal. They make enough money from people handing them cash to buy a few days of meals. No one actually hires them to do work, they just fork over the cash.
Phill:
So you're going to mooch off of society. Your hobby, I take it?
Tim:
Well I doubt there's an asshole position open for you down town, so you're no good.
Phill:
How did you mean that? (Tim gives Phill a dumb look.)
Tim:
What?
Phill:
What you just said.
Tim:
What?
Phill:
Asshole position.
Tim:
What?!
Phill:
An open asshole position.
Tim:
A what?!
Phill:
Are you bi?
Tim: What?! No!! What the hell?!
Phill:
Oh. Good. (Silence.)
Tim:
Look, what I'm trying to say here is, how else are we going to get the money? It sounds crazy, but it will provide us that which you speak so desperately of.
Phill:
We would be taking money which could be given to someone who actually needs it.
Tim:
We actually need it, Phill.
Phill:
No we don't. If we turned around right now, we could make it home.
Tim:
And go back to that shit? No fucking way.
Phill:
We absolutely cannot intercept items which would better benefit those less fortunate than ourselves.
Tim:
Hold on... I know what the problem is. You're looking at this all wrong. You're probably still worked up over that asshole remark from earlier. You're looking at it as though morals matter at all in survival.
Phill:
I look out for others, what's wrong with that?
Tim:
Nothing. Nothing at all if your not going any where in life.
Phill:
You ought to pay more attention to me, Tim. You could learn allot.
Tim:
My mom used to tell me the same thing back in the day.
Phill:
Well, listen to her. You could learn to do the right thing from time to time, not just look for events which may work out to your advantage. You know, like not taking money from the poor. Not... pushing your friends out into an oncoming traffic storm in the middle of the fucking highway, mother fucker. What the fuck were you thinking you stupid fucking mother fucker?!
Tim:
All right dude. cool it. You don't have to do it. I'll stand outside while you ... sleep... or some shit. Maybe while your getting booze.
Phill:
Whatever, Tim. Goodnight. (turns off the light. It is pitch black, nothing can be seen, and only voices heard.)
Tim:
Night. (then to himself;) Where the fuck am I going to sleep?
Phill:
Try the floor out.
Tim:
No pillow?
Phill:
There's only one.
Tim:
No blanket?
Phill:
Use your jacket or something, just shut the fuck up, man. Go to sleep.
Tim:
How about if I just turn the heat up instead?
Phill:
Whatever, man. Just fucking get it over with and shut the fuck up about it.
Tim:
Selfish bastard.(We hear him take a few blind steps through the room, and then THUMP!) Ow!!!!! Mother fucker. I just stubbed my fucking toe! Phill. Would you be so kind as to turn on the fucking light so I can see where the fuck I'm going?! (pause) I would like to know where the heater is, and what to do with it when I find it.
Phill:
You won't know what to do with it when you find it with or without the lights. But.. I suppose I'll humor you. (lights on, via Phill. Tim walks over to the heater and turns a knob.)
Tim:
There. (Phill turns the lights off.)
Phill:
Goodnight, Tim. (Turns the lights off.)
Tim:
Yeah, night. (Walks blindly. THUMP.) Ow!! Damn it all!! That's the same fucking toe!
Phill:
Just lay down on the ground and sleep.
Tim:
Fine. (THUMP) Fucking coffee table! Thanks for the fucking light, Phill, you ignorant little prick.(Momentary silence.) Damn it!
Phill:
What the fuck is it, now?
Tim:
I appear to be laying on your fucking shoe, you fucking dickhead.
End scene 2
Tim and Phill are in a single bedded room. Tim sits on the bed, flipping through the channels on the TV with a remote control. Phill sits on a table surrounded on three of the four sides with chairs. A bathroom is in the back of the room with the door open into the room.
Tim:
I can't believe you only got one bed.
Phill:
I am not paying an extra forty bucks for another bed. If we could have gotten a ride another exit up, we could have gotten a room with two beds for the same price. These Sunshine Hotel rooms are a rip-off.
Tim:
And whose fault is that?! (Stops flipping through the channels) If you could've shut your mouth for more than ten seconds about your traumatizing "near death experience", we could have gotten to the next exit.
Phill:
About that. Why the fuck did you try to kill me?!
Tim:
Try to kill you? That's a bit of an exaggeration.
Phill:
You threw me into the road, in front of a speeding vehicle. I would call that trying to kill me.
Tim:
The guy had plenty of time to stop, Phill.
Phill:
I could've died back there!
Tim:
Could have, and did, are two different things. (Goes back to flipping throughout the channels)
Phill:
You're lucky I lived to complain.
Tim:
No, you're lucky you lived to complain. I have to hear you complain.
Phill:
I almost fucking died back there!
Tim:
So I've fucking heard And you've been talking about it endlessly since! Now lay off the car thing and chill. We'll watch HBO and be cool. (starts surfing through the stations)
Phill:
Do we even have HBO?
Tim:
We'd better. (flip, flip, flip.) AHHHHHG! One fucking bed and no HBO! This is one hell of a room you've selected for us, Phill! (continues flipping. then stops.) Ooo, Baywatch. (Phill stands up and stretches.)
Phill:
I call the bed for the night. (Walks over to the outlet and unplugs the TV)
Tim:
What the hell did you do that for? Baywatch was on!
Phill:
Point being?
Tim:
I happen to like that show.
Phill:
No... you like the chicks on the show.
Tim:
Yeah...
Phill:
The show itself sucks.
Tim:
I'm not quite sure where you're going with this... (Phill turns away, disgusted.)
Phill:
Turn on the radio or something.
Tim:
Do we even have a radio? Can we trade it for HBO or another fucking bed?
Phill:
I think it's on the alarm clock. (Tim hits a button on the clock and heavily distorted music emanates from it.)
Tim:
Well I'll be damned. (Adjust the tuner and some random song can be clearly heard through the clock speaker.)
Phill:
I'm beginning to wonder why I even went on this trip.
Tim:
You're fucking kidding me, right?
Phill:
No, man. I'm serious. Where are we even going?
Tim:
California. (laughs) I thought you knew that. (song ends, Tim switches stations, rolling through the stations on the tuner.)
Phill:
And then what, Tim? We'll have no cash left, and thus, no means of getting us back.
Tim:
Why would you want to go back? Blossumdale is so boring.
Phill:
It ain't so bad.
Tim:
I can start at one end of the town and walk to the other in less than an hour.
Phill:
It isn't that small.
Tim:
Until two years ago, our post office was a trailer.
Phill:
Still...
Tim:
Look, I don't want to pull you into this. I know it's all my little adventure. I just thought it would have been an enjoyable excursion for both you and myself. If you don't want to go, then by all means... go back. I'll go to the sunny beaches of California while you go back to dreary Blossumdale, Ohio. I'll understand if you completely pussy out. I honestly didn't expect you to make it this far. I knew it was only a matter of time before you ran back home with your tail between your legs.
Phill:
Screw you, Tim.
Tim:
Listen though, Phill. I've got to take this monster shit. (Stands up) So I'll be right back. (Exits to the bathroom in the back of the hotel room, along the side of the wall the bed is on. After a moment of silence, Phill speaks.)
Phill:
Tim has this crazy idea in his head that all anyone needs in their lives is a little adventure. So he plans this completely insane, cross-country expedition. And lets face it, it's not exactly running smooth. But aside from general homesickness, it isn't so bad. It's definitely more exciting than Blossumdale. Don't get me wrong now, I love the town. It's just that it's so... so... boring. There isn't anything to do. Even if you turn to drugs, you're bored out of your mind. So we hit the road. It seemed like a decent idea when it was originally presented to me. Now, though, I'm just a little sick of this trip. Just about every aspect of it. I'm sick of walking endlessly with a faint hope of someone stopping. I'm sick of the sun beating down on me all day, and the night giving me chills with it's coldness. I'm sick of sleeping in various, random hotel rooms. And I'm sick of Tims seemingly endless arsenal of ideas from his minds' ever diminishing level of sanity. (As if on cue (or on cue, technically), the toilet flushes and the bathroom door opens. Tim Exits the bathroom.)
Tim:
Damn! (coughs, gags) That was relieving.
Phill:
Your "monster shit" lasted about... (looks at his watch) two minutes.
Tim:
Yeah, crazy ain't it? Must've been all that grease. Lubes the terds right out of me. (Tim sits down on the bed again.) You know, Phill. The road ain't so bad. I've heard some horrible things about life on the road. But it don't seem so bad to me.
Phill:
How can you say it isn't bad? We have two hundred dollars between us to last us to California. And back.
Tim:
So we'll cut corners. We'll stop getting the good booze. We'll get the cheap, sleaze motels that charge you by the hour. And instead of happy meals, we'll just get a burger, small drink, small fry, and a toy.
Phill:
What the fuck?! That is a happy meal.
Tim:
You're insane.
Phill:
A burger, small drink, small fry, and a toy is a happy meal minus the box..
Tim:
All right! So I won't get the fucking toy! I can live without it.
Phill:
You're missing the point, Tim. That two hundred dollars has to last us the trip home too y'know. (Tim stares blankly back at hum) Did you even consider the trip home?
Tim:
Of course not. There is no trip home. I'm not going back to Blossumdale. I'm going to chill my ass out on the beach every day, all day; all year, every year. For the rest of my fucking life.
Phill:
Don't tell me you actually believe that to be a possibility.
Tim:
Why not?
Phill:
You don't even have a job. How are you going pay for a place to stay?
Tim:
I have a job!
Phill:
Two things, Tim. One- your job is on the other side of the country.
Tim:
And the second thing?
Phill:
You quit your job before you left.
Tim:
I did?
Phill:
Yes.
Tim:
No I didn't.
Phill:
Yes, Tim, you did. You were tripping, but you did. You walked up to Ted and told him to shove a pepperoni calzone up his-
Tim:
No fucking way!
Phill:
Yeah dude. Maybe you shouldn't do acid at work.
Tim:
Those are words to live by. For now I will just have to stick with these.(Pulls a joint out of his shirt pocket and holds it out upright, before him, admiring it.)
Phill:
Another good way to cut back on money is to buy cheaper liquor.
Tim:
And this is the day after tomorrow?
Phill:
Of course.
Tim:
And we stock up tomorrow?
Phill:
Of course. (Tim puts his joint back into his shirt pocket and lays down, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.)
Tim:
Wake me up when you're ready to head out.
Phill:
Fuck you, Tim. I called the bed.
Tim:
I'm on it.
Phill:
I paid for the room.
Tim:
I won the bet!
Phill:
You almost fucking killed me!
Tim:
Oh no. (gets up.) Not this again. Here! (motions to the bed) You can have the damn bed! (Phill lays down on it.) You fucking dick. (Tim stands around, all pissed off for a while)
Phill:
We need a serious source of income. Don't you have any hobbies?
Tim:
You could put you're hobbies to use too, y'know? (He kind of mumbles the rest of this statement.) Of course there probably isn't a sperm bank in town, Jack off the Ripper. (Finally sits down. Phill sits up to glare menacingly at Tim.)
Phill:
What was that, Dickhead?!
Tim:
What was what?
Phill:
What the fuck did you just say underneath your breath?!
Tim:
What? I don't even know what you're talking about.
Phill:
You said I could put my hobbies to use and then you muttered some shit under your breath! What the fuck did you say?!
Tim:
But seriously, Phill. I was thinking about something while I was on the shitter earlier. I've got an ingenious cash flow idea. You and I have like minds, you see.
Phill:
I'd hate to think so. (Tim stands up)
Tim:
Hold on a second. I have visual aids. (runs to the bathroom and reappears a moment later with a small piece of card board which reads "Will Work For Food") Well? What do you think? (Phill looks at him like he's a moron.)
Phill:
You're a moron.
Tim:
Have you ever seen these guys in action? They just stand there with their sign, and people give them cash. They toss them tens and twenties. They never have to actually work for a meal. They make enough money from people handing them cash to buy a few days of meals. No one actually hires them to do work, they just fork over the cash.
Phill:
So you're going to mooch off of society. Your hobby, I take it?
Tim:
Well I doubt there's an asshole position open for you down town, so you're no good.
Phill:
How did you mean that? (Tim gives Phill a dumb look.)
Tim:
What?
Phill:
What you just said.
Tim:
What?
Phill:
Asshole position.
Tim:
What?!
Phill:
An open asshole position.
Tim:
A what?!
Phill:
Are you bi?
Tim: What?! No!! What the hell?!
Phill:
Oh. Good. (Silence.)
Tim:
Look, what I'm trying to say here is, how else are we going to get the money? It sounds crazy, but it will provide us that which you speak so desperately of.
Phill:
We would be taking money which could be given to someone who actually needs it.
Tim:
We actually need it, Phill.
Phill:
No we don't. If we turned around right now, we could make it home.
Tim:
And go back to that shit? No fucking way.
Phill:
We absolutely cannot intercept items which would better benefit those less fortunate than ourselves.
Tim:
Hold on... I know what the problem is. You're looking at this all wrong. You're probably still worked up over that asshole remark from earlier. You're looking at it as though morals matter at all in survival.
Phill:
I look out for others, what's wrong with that?
Tim:
Nothing. Nothing at all if your not going any where in life.
Phill:
You ought to pay more attention to me, Tim. You could learn allot.
Tim:
My mom used to tell me the same thing back in the day.
Phill:
Well, listen to her. You could learn to do the right thing from time to time, not just look for events which may work out to your advantage. You know, like not taking money from the poor. Not... pushing your friends out into an oncoming traffic storm in the middle of the fucking highway, mother fucker. What the fuck were you thinking you stupid fucking mother fucker?!
Tim:
All right dude. cool it. You don't have to do it. I'll stand outside while you ... sleep... or some shit. Maybe while your getting booze.
Phill:
Whatever, Tim. Goodnight. (turns off the light. It is pitch black, nothing can be seen, and only voices heard.)
Tim:
Night. (then to himself;) Where the fuck am I going to sleep?
Phill:
Try the floor out.
Tim:
No pillow?
Phill:
There's only one.
Tim:
No blanket?
Phill:
Use your jacket or something, just shut the fuck up, man. Go to sleep.
Tim:
How about if I just turn the heat up instead?
Phill:
Whatever, man. Just fucking get it over with and shut the fuck up about it.
Tim:
Selfish bastard.(We hear him take a few blind steps through the room, and then THUMP!) Ow!!!!! Mother fucker. I just stubbed my fucking toe! Phill. Would you be so kind as to turn on the fucking light so I can see where the fuck I'm going?! (pause) I would like to know where the heater is, and what to do with it when I find it.
Phill:
You won't know what to do with it when you find it with or without the lights. But.. I suppose I'll humor you. (lights on, via Phill. Tim walks over to the heater and turns a knob.)
Tim:
There. (Phill turns the lights off.)
Phill:
Goodnight, Tim. (Turns the lights off.)
Tim:
Yeah, night. (Walks blindly. THUMP.) Ow!! Damn it all!! That's the same fucking toe!
Phill:
Just lay down on the ground and sleep.
Tim:
Fine. (THUMP) Fucking coffee table! Thanks for the fucking light, Phill, you ignorant little prick.(Momentary silence.) Damn it!
Phill:
What the fuck is it, now?
Tim:
I appear to be laying on your fucking shoe, you fucking dickhead.
End scene 2