Mickey takes another sip off his Guinness.
MICKEY: Know what? It's gonna sound crazy but for some reason that doesn't scare me. Dying.
HOPE: No shit. For a car mechanic, you're pretty zen.
MICKEY: Well I don't know 'bout that. But dying here with you...wouldn't be so bad, you know?
HOPE: Okay 'ROMEO' I'll take the compliment. But still - we have to find a way to get outta here. I'm not done with my life yet.
MICKEY: You have... hope and dreams still?
HOPE: Don't you?
MICKEY: I think I just found them.
HOPE: Okay.... now look. I don't know how to say it, but you are making me nervous. You don't know me. And I would appreciate it if you keep to yourself all the.... the sweet stuff. Okay?
Mickey turns to the audience -
MICKEY: (to the audience) Here I go. I push and push and push right to the edge until they all just run away from me. I mean how can I blame them? Who the fuck wants to be MY savior? It's a lousy job. And I'm no dummy. I know exactly what I'm doing. I get my whole inner psychoanalysis or whatever. Wasn't born yesterday. And yeah I've read all those self help books and the youtubes. I've done my research. My self examination. Basically I put so much on them so I don't have to look at myself. 'Cause I don't make mistakes. So when they leave me it's all their fault. See? I got this psychology thing. I got it down. And this one... she's falling right to it. Right to my twisted self destructive bullshit. I can't help myself. It's an addiction, really. And I know a thing or two about that.
HOPE: Listen, you are a pretty cool guy, and I... like you.
MICKEY: So what's the problem then?
HOPE: See, that! Too...forward. Too direct. Can you try that again? But make it more subtle.
MICKEY: Okay... Well, thank you for saying that. I... like you too. Much more than LIKE you actually----
HOPE: AHHHH stop! You had it in "I like you too". That was good. No need for the extra mushiness.
MICKEY: But it's the truth.
HOPE: I get it. But I'm not ready for 'the truth.' I need... some space.
MICKEY: Okay. I'm sorry.
HOPE: No need to... It's not you it's me. Oh God I can't believe I just said that, such a cliche..
MICKEY: Nothing I haven't heard before.
HOPE: But it's a banal thing to say. Seriously.
MICKEY: Hey, if it's your truth come out and say it.
Hope turns to the audience -
HOPE: (to the audience) I'm being a total dick to this guy and he still understands me!? What's going on. Did I get a concussion? Am I hallucinating from the heat? Am I dead already!? If I don't get the fuck outta here I may just FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM. And I can't imagine anything worse! I mean... look at him. He's.... he's.....he's.... I got nothing. He's hot. He's charming. He's sensitive. He's perfect. The problem really IS me.
MICKEY: (to the audience) She wants space! We're not even in a relationship and she wants space! My method, UNFORTUNATELY, works like a charm. Fuck me. Okay well, she wants space I'll give her space.
We could just start walking to the nearest gas station you know?
HOPE: Forty miles!?
MICKEY: Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will pass us on the way.
HOPE: And if we don't?
MICKEY: It will be hard.... and long. We'll be exausted, but I don't think we'll die from walking.
I bet it would be the heat that kills us.
HOPE: That sounds morbid. And also - our only plan. So let's do it. Let's go off to the desert and walk forty miles!
MICKEY: All right! I love the spirit! Sorry if I'm being too sweet.
HOPE: Yeah, how dare you.
MICKEY: I know, I should be locked up.
MICKEY: Is that your only shoes?
HOPE: Yes. And they're fabulous.
HOPE: You don't like them?
MICKEY: No I LOVE them. It just may be hard to walk on them. For forty miles.
Hope rushes in to the truck and comes back with something in her hands.
HOPE: I have THESE!
Hope reveals a pair of roller-skates. And they are cute AF.
MICKEY: Oh my lord.
(to the audience)
If she only knew how hard I am restraining myself right now. My goddess also roller-skates!? I mean, stop it. Stop it right now. It's too much to handle. Too much. This...SHE.... will destroy me.
Mickey turns to see Hope in her skates. His jaw drops.
To be continued...
In April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling.
Header Art: Daniel Landerman