feeble attempt: Red. a one act play.

 Red

a one-act play

Red

by Sheri Grutz

Father and son at the grocery store.

FATHER:  every time I pull this way green, you go for red.

SON:  nah, dad, I got a holiday on my mind.

FATHER:  the ripest aren't always the best.

SON:  I'll remember that next time I want to bathe.

FATHER:  well, you gotta wash everything.  Produce is all about skin.

SON:  Yeah, I got burnt yesterday, dad.  The misquitoes want to eat me.

FATHER:  Maybe you should apply yourself.

SON:  I've taken all the heat, dad, why should I?

FATHER:  (turns cart sharply into the canned goods)  Everything has adhesive.  Stick with something.  

SON:  these labels are for good.

FATHER:  nah, then it's just tin man.

SON:  maybe I always go for the heart.

FATHER:  green is what you see.

SON:  you made me over-grown dad.

FATHER:  what else, ketchup, mater soup, T-bone?

SON:  (walks slowly behind)  I think I'll blush over that woman right there.

FATHER:  yeah, she's got the sex in ham radio.

SON:   I want to get some wine.

FATHER:  let me guess, red wine.

SON:  of course, it's easier than taking in the cold world.

FATHER:  alright, we'll find it.  Remember my money is green.

SON:  so I should be jealous.

FATHER:  no, just love creme de menthe.

SON:  yuck.  maybe in coffee.

FATHER:  you got a shitty attitude thinking it's all stop sign.

SON:  Can't collide with a fire truck.

FATHER:  (gets to the milk and yogurt and cheese)  I think you need some hot pepper cheese.

SON:  Now you're getting there.  The women love me when I bring it out, cuz they've been burned.

FATHER:  let me guess, in red lipstick?

SON:  yeah.  I think I'll take this, the local Merlot.  Good buy, eh?

FATHER:  laser gun straight to the brain.

SON:  dad, you know I'm homegrown.

FATHER:  We didn't get maters this year, all we got was your tongue.

SON:  But I won't swallow it or pride.

FATHER:  let's go check out.

SON:  I'd like a pack of Pall Mall Reds.

FATHER:  what, no menthol, no green??

SON:  no, dad.  I'm going with stripes.

FATHER:  You got nothing on those men.

SON:  (thanks the cashier)  Someday I'll have a little red Corvette dad.

FATHER:  The green signs are for exits.

SON:  trees when I know how to fly.

FATHER:  let's go.

SON:  the red cape, dad.  everybody always coming after me.

FATHER:  (walking quickly out)  You're no Santa.

SON:  (pulling his pack apart, ready to light up)  haven't I put the red gloves on, fought for my life?

FATHER:  the snake in the garden is green.

SON:  alright dad, I'm wanting the holiday.

FATHER:  we'll reach every stoplight going home.

SON:   and I've waited all my life to tell you this.  You're a bastard!  You're a mother fuckin' bastard!

FATHER:  I'm sure Dorothy's red slippers would have given you something more.

(they drive off, Son smoking, Father half way, or no way, accepting.)

the End.