Facebook Said You Were Dead

Facebook Said You Were Dead

by | Dec 22, 2024 | Writing

Facebook Said You Were Dead

I heard a rumor that you were dead. Is that true? Maybe you just moved on from Facebook? I went to your page, and there were all these posts that talked about how they “miss you,” “gone too soon,” and “I remember when.”

Maybe it was a prompt from Facebook: Fill this person’s news feed with dozens of posts with those sentence starters. Do you think it’s a Facebook automation? How do they do it? I really wish I were in one of those meetings with Mark Zuckerberg. He might be a thief, liar, and jerk, but he sure knows how to assemble a great meeting of the minds. I’m wary of his meeting with Trump, though.

So how did they figure it out? I bet they started with a notification ding—”You haven’t posted on so-and-so’s page in a while. Why don’t you start a post with ‘I miss you,'” for example.

So they bombarded Facebook abandoners’ feeds with messages from dozens of friends. So then Facebook sends an email for each message to the abandoner so they get back onto Facebook, even if it’s just to turn off notifications. They’ve got you. They’re back, and you’re engaged, and maybe you’ll click on one of the dozen or so sponsored posts, and Facebook is back to making money on you again. These are the types of things they discuss, plan, and implement in these meetings. I sure wish I lived in Palo Alto. Is that where their headquarters are? If not, I could always go to Stanford University. Even if I sit somewhere on campus near other people, I’m bound to learn something.

I wonder if I should write a post on your page. I would definitely say, “I remember when we put on matching outfits with tutus and rhinestone suspenders and we danced to ‘I Feel Good’ by James Brown. That was my favorite memory of you.” So I hope you aren’t dead and this is just another one of Facebook’s tactics.

I wouldn’t put it past them, but I went through my phone, and I don’t have your contact saved. I’m bummed about that because I really do like you. I just lost track of time, and so I guess your contact didn’t get saved. So if you see this, please respond to me by phone or text at 555-369-2545. Hope to hear from you soon.

Your dancing partner,

Alex

The Night I Met Jack

The Night I Met Jack

by | Nov 29, 2024 | Writing

The Night I Met Jack

I remember the night I met Jack. It was sometime after 1:00 a.m. on November 30th, 1999. Christina and I had been hanging out after work at the downstairs bar at Penang’s, a Malaysian restaurant on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. The bartenders there treated us well. Was it free drinks, extra booze, or engaged conversation? It’s hard to recall, probably a combination. The restaurant closed at 1:00 am, and Craig invited us to meet him after work at a bar down the street. We went ahead of Craig to Peter’s on Columbus Avenue between 68th and 69th streets. I was warm from the Cosmopolitans and didn’t notice the cold November night. The taxis and cars whirled past us. 

Christina had a crush on Craig, but Craig had a crush on me.

Craig walked in and breezed past us without a glance. Christina pulled her sad puppy dog face. “He’s ignoring me,” she whined. Craig was talking to a couple of guys – one of them was Jack, my future husband.

I was pretty sassy back then. I walked up to Craig and said, “Hey, Craig, you walked right past us. Is that any way to treat your friends?” I teased.

Craig, with his blonde rockabilly hair, smiled at me, his grin wide. “Hey, meet my friends, Andrew and Jack. Jack’s in the band RoxVox.”

They both said hello, and I immediately had a visceral reaction to the tall man with splotchy blond streaks in his dark hair. His skin was pale and effervescent. My heart fluttered, my gut tightened, and a smile painted my face.

“Oh, cool. Well, nice to meet you guys.”  I said nonchalantly. “Say, do you want to dance?” I said to the man named Jack.

He smiled and spoke with a British accent. “Where are we going to dance?”

“Outside on the street! I have a boombox with mad bass. We’ll throw a dance party on the street.”

The three men grinned. “Sure!” They said, like obedient dogs.

I pulled my boombox out of my handbag and expanded it to half my size. “Could one of you carry it? It’s always a bit awkward when I have to do it myself.”

“No problem,” the British guy said to me. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure, I’ll have a cosmo,” I said, locking my eyes with his.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, his sultry voice luring me. I blushed.

We had a couple of drinks at the bar. Poor Christina was sitting at the end of the bar, nursing her drink, looking down, and concentrating on her drink. Poor self-pitying, Christina. She’s missing out on a good time.

“Hey, Christina, come join us!” I encouraged, keeping an eye on Jack, as he would never leave my sight now.

Andrew said, “I’m ready to dance with you, babe.” I glared at him.

“I have a name. Don’t call me babe.”

“Sorry. Yes. I just got carried away,” he said solemnly.

The five of us walked out of the bar, drinks in hand. Jack carried the boombox. I like him, I thought to myself. We got outside, and I put on the beats. Kenny Loggins’ “Footloose” blasted out, and Christina and Andrew started dancing. Blood rushed to my cheeks; so embarrassing.

“Oh, that wasn’t supposed to be there! That was a joke from a dance class earlier.” I switched discs. This time, it was Moby. Moby I could groove to. I started dancing with Jack. He was a fierce dancer, and the three others stopped and watched us. Soon, the 2:00 a.m. crowd circled around us, drawn in by the music and the energy of our impromptu street performance.

Someone from an apartment above yelled out of the window, “If you don’t shut up, I’m calling the cops.”

Jack turned down the music.

“Hey, let’s go back to my place and order Chinese food,” said Andrew, his corkscrew curls bouncing on his shoulders.

Jack looked at me. “Are you coming?” His almond-shaped eyes mesmerized me. I smiled at him. “Sure, I’m game, but I don’t want Chinese food.”

“Yeah, me neither. I never eat and drink,” he said to me, a slight smile parted his lips.

I folded the boombox back into my bag, and we started to walk down Columbus Avenue to Andrew’s place. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp concrete and a hint of cigarette smoke, the remnants of a bustling evening fading into the quiet of the late hour. The night air was crisp and biting, carrying the faintest whisper of the Hudson River in the distance, mingling with the earthy coolness of Central Park just a block away. I was tipsy and twisted my ankle on a curb in my 4” heeled boots.

“Ouch!” I said, leaning down, rubbing the pain away. “I don’t know if I can put pressure on it,” I said, discouraged.

The three men all said, “I’ll carry you!”

I looked at the three of them: Andrew with his salt and pepper corkscrew hair, Craig with his Colgate smile, and Jack, perfect in every way. “Sure, thanks, Jack,” I jumped on his back, and he carried me to Andrew’s place. I rested my head on his broad shoulders; his leather jacket cooled my flushed cheeks. 

Christina was lagging behind, whining. Poor Christina. “Wait for me!” She complained.

We arrived at Andrew’s apartment. Jack set me down gently, and I smiled up at him. We sat down on Andrew’s L-shaped black velour couch; the air hung heavy with the scent of stale cigarettes. Jack brought me a drink from the kitchen and sat beside me. 

Christina sat down next to me on the other side. “Craig’s not talking to me. He doesn’t like me. Will you talk to him?” she pleaded.

I leaned into her and answered quietly, sympathetically, “Go talk to him yourself.” Christina moped and took another sip of her drink.

Jack put my hand in his, and I felt an electric jolt of energy, like the start of something I couldn’t yet define. I felt a connection to him, one that would never leave me. The rest is history.

Swept Away

Swept Away

by | Nov 23, 2024 | Writing

Swept Away

Oh my god. I cannot believe my day today. It was totally magical. He kissed me! And yet… Johnny sucks face better than him. I thought all the actors gave good tongue action. That’s okay, he can learn. We can practice—a lot. I wonder when he’ll rescue me from this dull little brick town. I can’t believe we macked! I hoped to meet him, but never in my wildest dreams (well, maybe) thought I’d get to smooch Billy Preston.

 I should be sufficiently tired right now. I barely slept last night in anticipation. I wanted to look perfect this morning. Was it my smoky blue eyes or wine-stained lips that won him over? Obviously, I don’t dress like the other girls. I wore my black crocheted dress with my kitten-heeled boots. I looked pretty irresistible, indeed. How else do you think a famous actor would pick me out of a crowd of thousands? Okay, well, I was sitting at the table with the cast, unlike all those other people. I thought bussing his picture this morning might lure him to me. The funny thing is, he wasn’t even in my top 10. But now, he is totally my number one. 

God, the building was gorgeous. There were these four fireplaces and they were all made of white marble, and they had faces sculpted out of the façade. The furniture and linen were so luxurious, and everything was highlighted in gold colored accents. It looked like a million dollars– unlike my bedroom of ninety-degree angles.

 

I sat at the table with my parents, my mom’s cousin, Melanie, and her husband, Richard Haycroft, the star of the show. We were invited to the special filming in Boston; the 200th episode of, Swept Away. The high volume of chatter and dishes clanging buzzed in my ears. Randoms zigzagged in and out of the room. I barely paid attention until Billy stepped in. He is gorgeous in person. He’s tall, and has the sweetest baby blues… and a dorky gap-toothed smile. 

Everyone saw him come in. After all, he was the young star on the show and I heard he has a movie coming up. Who did he notice? Me, naturally. I sat there, looking nonchalant, sipping my coffee. And then, he called me over to him. I practically jumped out of my seat and ran to him. Somehow, I kept my composure and sauntered toward him. I couldn’t let him think I was fazed. He asked me my name. He had a slight southern drawl, just enough to keep my ear lingering for more. I played coy with him. I was Lily, and I certainly knew who he was. He said, “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”  I’ll ignore the cheesy line to say; wow, Billy Preston thinks I’m hot. I’m one step closer to my goal of becoming a movie star. Isn’t that what they taught me in biology class? Hang around with the stars, and you become one of them through osmosis? 

He offered to buy me a drink. I looked back at my parents, who were trying hard to make it look like they weren’t paying attention to us. I told him I’d have Kahlua and Cream. He asked me if I lived in Boston. What was I supposed to say? I live in a small little town, two hours away. I said I lived outside of the city. He asked me who I knew to get in, and I told him about Richard and Melanie. I didn’t mention Mom and Dad. 

I have to admit, getting buzzed with a TV star in the middle of the day might just be the highlight of my life, or second at least. Then, when we were on our second drink, a photographer from the Boston Globe came over. He asked to take a picture of us for the paper. Me, in the society pages? Billy wrapped his arm around my body and pulled me into him. The flash brightened our eyes and he leaned over and pecked me on my cheek. Okay, so how did we get to the real smacker? Because I know that one was hardly worth writing home about.

I excused myself to the powder room. I touched up my makeup in the mirror, walked out, and he was standing right there. Was he waiting for me? He told me again how pretty he thought I was and how much fun he was having in Boston. And then he stepped in, lips close, and softly pressed his against mine. I threw my arms around him and frenched him right back. It totally rocked, but what can I say? It was kind of weak. I mean, how does a fifteen-year-old boy from a small little hick town lock lips better than a famous person? But then, drat, footsteps approached, and we broke our embrace. It was a production assistant or something. She told Billy he was needed for another scene. He said he’d be right back. I stood there for a moment as I watched him walk out of my life. I felt shocked. Did he really just come to find me? And then he was gone, just like that. Like a fairytale, but was he Cinderella who had to leave the ball at midnight, and I the prince? No, not quite, but I was alone, in the alcove, abandoned by my true love. I couldn’t just stand there. I went back in and sat down at the table with my parents, a little bummed.

I had to leave before he came back. I can’t believe my parents made me leave! I’ll write poetry every day until he drives his limousine up to the front of my school. He’ll put down his window and yell out to me, “Lily Dylan, come with me. You don’t belong here. Move to Hollywood with me, it’s where you belong.” And I’ll climb right in next to him and teach him the proper way to make out.

Mullet Town

Mullet Town

by | Nov 9, 2024 | Playwriting

A One-Act Play

CAST OF CHARACTERS

AMBER- Early twenties. She is a young, hip artist. Wears stylish, trendy clothes. Hair: shoulder length (one length).

ANNIE- Mid-forties; plain woman, friendly. Wears plaid flannel shirts tucked in with brown slacks. Hair:  Mullet.

VIC- Mid-forties; confident and cocky. Wears cheap suits and skinny ties. Hair: Mullet.

JIMMY- Mid-forties; tries too hard. Wears well-worn wrinkled shirts with ill-fitting black dress pants. Hair: Mullet.

EXTRAS- Mid-forties. Varied office attire. Hair: Mullets.

SETTING:  Four desks and chairs are set up in a minimal-looking office.

TIME: The year is 2008. Despite the turn of the millennium, this office and its workers remain a tribute to the past.

ACT I, Scene One

AT RISE: ANNIE, JIMMY and EXTRAS are sitting at desks.  THEY all have MULLETS.

 

AMBER walks onto stage as she steps through the door for the first time. She gawks at everyone’s hair. 

ANNIE  

(Rises from her desk) You must be Amber. Joan from Staffed To Be Sure called and said you were on your way. (Extends hand) I’m Annie. You’ll be filling in as an assistant. 

AMBER

(Doubtfully) Well, I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. (Looks around at everyone, noting hairstyles and grimacing). Probably just today.

ANNIE

(Assuredly) Oh, the first day is always nerve-wracking.  You’ll be fine. Joan tells me you’re an artist. You can really help us get some culture in here.

AMBER

(Meekly) Yes, I’m sure you’re right.

ANNIE

Everyone, this is Amber. She’s filling in for Karen while she’s on maternity leave.

Greetings from ALL

AMBER

 (Tries to be friendly, forces a contorted smile) Hi Everyone.

ANNIE

You can take Karen’s desk right here (gestures to the desk next to JIMMY). Lucky us, we’re deskmates (jovially).

 

AMBER

 (Abashed) Great. 

AMBER slips into her chair and slips her bag under the desk. She has a look of discontent on her face.

JIMMY

(Turning to AMBER, tries to come across as suave) Wow, it’s great to meet you (looks her up and down). Do you, ah, live around here? Are you, ah, new in town?

AMBER

(Recoils) Yes, I’m new.

She starts fussing with items on the desk, avoiding his conversation.

JIMMY

(Still looking at AMBER) It’s just that I haven’t seen you around town. You ever go shopping, or to the park? Pretty girl like you must have a busy life, you single?

AMBER

(Restrained) Hmmm, well I’d rather stick to my work than talk about my personal life. (As in shut up) No offense.

AMBER looks around to see if she notices anyone with a regular haircut. She returns her attention to her desk and avoids looking at JIMMY’S face.

JIMMY

 (Sits back, gestures hands out to show it’s no big deal) Hey, no offense taken here, we can be office buds. (HE turns back to face his desk.)

AMBER

 (Outwardly disdainful) Great. (Turns to ANNIE) So, what can I start on?

ANNIE

Ah, yes, let’s get these inputs into the computer.

She stands up with a stack of papers, then fiddles with AMBER’S computer. 

ENTER VIC. He walks in and stops when he notices AMBER.

VIC

 (Cheesy smile) Oh, now, Annie, you didn’t tell me we hired a sweet little lady.

ANNIE

(Smiling) Good morning, Vic; this is Amber. She’s filling in for Karen.

VIC

 (Still smiling at AMBER, gestures a pregnant belly.) Yeah, that’s Karen. She’s good at making babies. What is that,  five or six now?

AMBER

 (With disgust) I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.

JIMMY

(Turns to VIC) Vic, this is a real feisty one. She doesn’t want to make friends with us oldies. Just look at her with her stylish hair and clothes.

AMBER

 (Defensively) I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot here; I only want to do a good job on my first day.

VIC

 (Sits on the edge of AMBER’S desk and leans in toward her.) Don’t you worry honey; I’m sure you’ll do fine.

ANNIE

(Slightly stern) Vic, get to work and leave her alone. She’s only just walked in the door; give her a break already. 

VIC

 (Playfully) Oh, Annie, you’re always on my back.

ANNIE

 (Playing back) That’s enough, Vic. To your desk (she points to the back desk).

VIC

(To ANNIE) Okay, okay. (To JIMMY, intimately) Hey Jimmy, guess who I ran into on Saturday night?

JIMMY

(Juicing) Oh yeah, who’s that?

VIC

(Walks over to JIMMY’s desk) Monica. I was out cruisin’ in my Trans Am when I saw her. Man, she looked hot. She still has that gorgeous long blond feathered hair and legs up to her neck. (Shaking his head in loving disbelief) Yeah, so we went into Cliff’s Hangout, bada bing bada bam.

JIMMY

(Laughing) Vic, you’re too much. You really know how to find a good time.

AMBER looks horrified at the interaction between the two men.

ANNIE

Now, Boys, get back to work. You’ll scare the new girl (she looks at AMBER she smiles).

AMBER feigns a smile back. VIC sits at his desk. ALL put their heads down to work.

Beat

ANNIE

 (Standing) It looks like it’s lunchtime, Amber. Come, join me. I’ll introduce you around.

AMBER

Thanks, Annie.

 AMBER stands and grabs her bag. ALL walk offstage single file.

BLACKOUT

ACT I, Scene Two

ENTER ANNIE and AMBER: They walk on stage, with the front lights on, as if walking down a hallway.

ANNIE

How do you like it here so far, Amber? Any questions? Is Vic a bit intense for you?

AMBER

I guess so. He does seem a little oblivious.

ANNIE

(Laughs) Ha! Yes, well, Vic can be a bit oblivious. He was (uses quotation mark hands) “The Cool Guy” back in high school. All the girls loved him. I guess he never grew out of that. He’s harmless though, once you get to know him. Underneath it all he’s a big puppy dog.

AMBER

Are you guys all related?

ANNIE

That’s a funny question, why do you ask that?

AMBER

Well, you look similar. I can see a resemblance.

ANNIE

Oh, well, I guess if you work with someone long enough, you can start to blend in together.

AMBER

 How long have you all known each other?

ANNIE

Oh, the boys and me, we go way back. Farmingdale High, class of eighty-four. (Shaking her head) They haven’t changed a bit.

AMBER

Yes, I can see that. (Looks at ANNIE’S hair). Do you guys ever get out of town, or you’ve stayed here your whole lives?

ANNIE

(Proudly) Been here my whole life. How ‘bout you, what’s your story?

AMBER

My parents bought a house over on Elm Street. They wanted a quieter life. My mother said Manhattan was suffocating her so, they moved out here. She wants to concentrate on her painting. Then, when I graduated from college last year, I moved back home to be with them. They want me to apply to graduate school. So, I’m doing that while trying to get my art portfolio together. I figured working through the temp agency would make me some money while I’m here. 

ANNIE

Wow,  sounds like you’ve had an exciting life so far.

AMBER

Well, I just want to get my career started. I’ve been working with a gallery owner at night. He says he can help. I hope so. I’ll be leaving here as soon as I can. I just need a break, for someone to discover me.

ANNIE

Well, I hope not too soon. We’re just getting to know ya.

BLACKOUT

ACT I, Scene 3

TIME: One month later.

AT RISE: Everyone is sitting at their desks.

AMBER has become accustomed to everyone’s style. Although, she is still embarrassed about where she works. She rushes into the office, everyone is already at their seats.

ANNIE

 (Curiously) You’re late?

AMBER

(Apologetically) Sorry about that, I was up late last night working on an installment piece for the gallery.

ANNIE

(Excited) Busy girl, I can’t wait to see it. When’s the opening? Are you having a party?

AMBER

(Flustered) Oh, well, I’m not sure there will be a party. And if there were one, I’m sure you’re much too busy. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to go anyway…

ANNIE

(Winking) Nonsense, never too busy for a friend.

AMBER

(Appreciative) Gee, thanks. 

 ANNIE

(Earnestly) Amber, I’d like to talk to you about something. And I ‘d really like you to consider it. We’d really like you to join us here full time, honey. You’re doing a great job and I think you really fit in here nicely.

AMBER

Thank you for saying that, Annie; I really do appreciate it, but I’m really concentrating on getting my art career started.

ANNIE

Well, that certainly is understandable, but it’s very hard, honey. You could do this job as a base for yourself. So you don’t get too lost—

AMBER

I’d be worried if I had a full-time office job…here… that I would lose my artistic style and vision.

ANNIE

Well, please just consider it. The offer is there.

AMBER

Okay, thanks, Annie.

VIC

(Gets up and walks over to AMBER’S desk) Hey baby, when are you going out on a date with me?

AMBER

(Flatly, without humor) In your dreams, Vic. And it’s Amber; I’m not your baby.

VIC

Hey, I went by your gallery last night, so I went in looking for you.

AMBER

(Astonished, with underlying suspicion) You did not. You actually asked for me?

VIC

(Dismissive) Of course, I did. Some guy with some frilly name said you’d already left. And I have to say, they call that art? I could make that stuff in my garage.

AMBER

Ugh. You don’t understand art at all. You didn’t say anything did you?

VIC

Why, do I embarrass you around your “art friends?” I have a right to my own opinion and the stuff in there was pure junk. I’m telling you, I could’ve done better in high school shop class.

AMBER

It’s called sculpture, and Serge is an acclaimed artist. I really hope you didn’t get into it with him.

 VIC

Well, it’s not my style anyway. That guy is full of crap with his tight sweaters and skinny pants. And what kind of hair was that?

AMBER

(Piqued) Serge’s hair? Vic, the eighties, called; they said they wanted their hairstyle back.

VIC

 (Goading) It looks like you’re the odd one out here. When are you going to cut your hair?

AMBER

Ewww, and when are you going to get rid of that car?

VIC

 (Laughing) Oh, Amber, you’re a funny one. I’ll see you later (He walks to his desk).

ANNIE

(Fetching) You and Vic have gotten chummy.

AMBER

(Shrugging, a touch dismissive) Yeah, whatever. He’s still a bit much with that mullet. (Grimacing, she puts her hand over her mouth, looking at ANNIE’s hair.) Oh, sorry, Annie.

ANNIE

Mullet? What’s that? You mean our hairstyles?

AMBER

Annie, have you ever noticed when you’re out, say, at a store in another town or at the mall?

ANNIE

Oh, no, I never go to the mall, too expensive.

AMBER

But don’t you see that you guys have hair, unlike anyone else? I mean, what are the chances of everyone working here having the same hair?

ANNIE

Really? My hair? I love my hair. It’s so easy to maintain, it’s long and flowing in the back, yet it never gets in my way. Look at you. You’re always fussing with your hair, don’t get me wrong, you look very pretty. Heh, I mean, I can see why Vic likes you.

AMBER

Oh, never mind the hair. I apologize if I offended you.

ANNIE

Is that why you never want to go out with us?

AMBER

Oh god Annie, is that what you think? Of course not, Annie, you know how busy I’ve been with the gallery. I don’t have time to hang out with anyone.

ANNIE

Yes, but you don’t want any of us coming there. Oh, I am sorry that we embarrass you.

AMBER

No, I’m sorry, you guys are good people. I have nothing against you. Hey, I know. How about I introduce you to my hairstylist, Annie? We’ll have a girl’s night out. We can get our hair and nails done, put on some fancy clothes, and go out for a drink. You’ll love it, Annie, really. Can we forget my slip of the tongue?

ANNIE

Oh honey, you’re sweet. That sounds like fun, but I don’t think I’m ready to change my hair. I really do love it. I never really noticed my hair was different. 

AMBER

Yes, but Annie, just think about it: if I helped you with a makeover, You might get some hits on your online dating service. You’re such a sweet person. You just need a bit of help updating your image.

ANNIE

We’ll have to see about that. 

BLACKOUT

ACT I, Scene 4

AT RISE: AMBER alone on stage, spotlight on her. The background is dark.

AMBER

I feel so bad about what I said to Annie. How can I be so shallow? But, I can’t believe I’m still here, I thought for sure it would be just one day. I pleaded with the agency to move me somewhere else… I mean really, this atmosphere is awful. What is wrong with these people? Can’t anyone talk some sense into them? How could I find an office filled with mullets? The ugliest hairstyle of all times. You wouldn’t believe it if I wrote it in a story. And they make me (pointing inward) feel like the odd one out!

 (Emphatically) I am not the strange one here. I will not be brought down to their acid washed level. 

(Yelling offstage to wings) C’mon people get a grip! There’s a whole world out there! A whole world that… that doesn’t have a mullet!

(Quiet again) I mean- they’re good people and all. But, I could never hang out in public with them looking like that. It’s as if they’re in a time warp circa 1982.

ENTER ANNIE, JIMMY, VIC and EXTRAS, in a trance-like manner, all carrying scissors in their hands. AMBER stops talking to look at THEM coming. 

ALL (but AMBER)

(Chanting) Mullet, Mullet, Mullet.

AMBER

(Looking around, confused) No!

THEY come at her, chopping their scissors. She falls to the ground as they stand over her. 

ALL (except AMBER)

(Chanting) Mullet, Mullet, Mullet.

AMBER

 (Screams) No! You can’t make me do it. I won’t, no!

Beat

THEY walk away from AMBER, still trance-like. SHE’S curled up in a ball on the floor, whimpering. She stands up with scissors in her hand, feeling her hair.

AMBER

(Looking at scissors) No! No! Is there a mirror anywhere?

She runs to center stage and uses the audience as a mirror.

AMBER

A mullet? On me? Oh, what has happened to me? Is this a terrible dream? When did I become one of them? I never meant to let it happen! Did I do this? Why do I have scissors in my hand? I’ve got to get out of this job- they’re turning me. I never wanted to lose my sense of self; it was only supposed to be temporary! I don’t want to be one of them! (Looking intently in the “mirror,” she starts preening herself.) Why it’s, it’s… so comfortable, so free. Why, I don’t mind it at all. In fact, if I just throw a pin in it, I think I can get away with it. It really doesn’t look too bad. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I like it; it feels good. (Justifying) I can still be hip. Maybe I’ll even set a new trend with my friends. I haven’t lost my mind have I? Just wait until they all see in the morning.

BLACKOUT

ACT I, Scene 5

Time: The following day-Morning.

ENTER AMBER. She walks into the office sporting her new mullet. EVERYONE is sitting at desks. She looks around as EVERYONE has had a new haircut without mullets.

AMBER

Hi, every-—no! What’s going on?

ANNIE

 (Looks up, noticing AMBER’S hair) Hi Amber, why look, you got your haircut.

AMBER

(Pointing at each) And so have you, Jimmy, Vic, Bob, and Suzanne. How can this be?

ANNIE

Amber, we have to keep up with the times, don’t we? That is, if we’re going to hang with a hip youngster like you.

AMBER

I just didn’t realize I had such an impact on you guys. I mean, you’ve all been working together for twenty years, and you never changed before.

ANNIE

Honey, your opinion is important to us. Hey, did they set a date for your exhibit?

AMBER

(Deflated) No, It was canceled. Serge said something about not having enough funding or interest, or something. I guess he doesn’t think I’m ready.

ANNIE

I’m sorry, honey; I know how much it meant to you. If you keep working at it, you’ll get there soon enough.

VIC

(Looks up from his desk, smiling) Hey AMBER, nice hair, wow! I never thought we’d convert you.

AMBER

(Still in shock) But, your hair is short; you cut off your mullet.

VIC

Yeah, well, I was tired of you riding me about it, so, uh, after work last night, we all decided to cut them all off. I tell ya, I can’t believe I didn’t do this a long time ago. It feels strange, but it feels good—no more long hair scratching at my neck.

AMBER scrambles in her bag, looking for hair clips. SHE frantically starts putting her hair up and back so it no longer looks like a mullet.

VIC

 So, now that I cut my hair, will you go out with me?

AMBER

 (Feeling better with her hair up) Yeah, right, Vic, just look at the way you dress.

END Of PLAY

 

young woman with a mullet hairstyle with a white brick background

Author’s Note: “Mullet Town” was inspired by my own experience of culture shock after moving from London to western Massachusetts. When I took a temp job at a large office, I was shocked to discover that mullets—a hairstyle I thought had been left in the 1980s—were alive and thriving among my new coworkers. This piece playfully captures that bewildering moment when time seems frozen and you realize that some trends refuse to die, no matter how much the world changes.