Why am I here, and more importantly, why the hell are you here?

"Why am I here, and more importantly, why the hell are you here?"

by: J. Montgomery Spencer

For Joe:

"S&G Packaging. A one act play with three scenes, all in the same place."

Dramatis Persona
John = Security guard
A Visitor = Imaginary friend of John

Act I, Scene I.

Interior of a security guard shack. John sits at his chair, half sleeping. The phone rings, John answers.
John: -Good morning, S&G Packaging Security.(pause)
-Accounts payable, sure I’ll connect you.
=CLICK=
The phone rings, John answers.
John : -Good morning, S&G Packaging Security.(pause)
-Oh my, you must have been disconnected. Let me try again.
=CLICK=
The phone rings, John answers.
John: -Good morning, S&G Packaging Security.(pause)
-What a mystery.(pause)
-Well let me see if I can get someone from the demolition crew on the radio.(pause)
-Yes, demolition.(pause)
-Oh, well the place burnt to the ground over half a year ago.(pause)
-Now there’s no need for language like that.(pause)
-Could you possibly quit being such a little bitch?(pause)
-Officer Joe Kalicki.(pause)
-Don’t bother, I’ll tell you. 311 Dillman St. in Plainfield.(pause)
-Have a good one.
=CLICK=

I showed up late for work, again. Sure I supposed to arrive there 15 minutes before my shift starts at 7AM, but I don’t. In fact I show up 15 minutes after my shift starts. It really doesn’t matter one way or the other because Rodney Robertson is going to stick around until 8AM.
I walk in the door and Rodney wastes no time including me in the conversation already in progress with himself.
"I got to go to the drug store and pick up some vitamin D. My skin is getting sick. I don’t get enough vitamin D. In the summer I go around without a shirt or pants to absorb the sun; stay healthy. I fell two weeks ago, pulled one of these(gestures by raising his hands in the air and leaning over). Landed on a soft surface (opens his coat to show his large belly), busted up my leg (pulls up his pant leg to expose the slowly healing damage), and my glasses (takes off his dark sunglasses), put a screw in them though. Didn’t see the pole in the freight yard, fell right down, and it hasn’t healed in two weeks."
He goes on to describe what he was doing in a freight yard at night. It has something to do with his mission to clean up his shitty neighborhood. He explains why he'll only work nights and why he lets the local biker gang hang out at his house when he’s at work. Seems his daughter is safer with them than she is alone in the house. There are dark forces that we can only dream of that are out to get her, and he doesn’t want her getting hurt before she finally graduates high school this year. The bikers are a safe bet because, well, she isn’t getting anymore pregnant.
Now I like Rodney. He’s one of my buddies from the National Guard. He’s always full of stories of his exploits as a sniper in the Marines. He’ll go on about how he would kill relatives of warlords in South America, using various weapons(including his favorite weapon, himself) and the ways of disposing of the bodies.
"The first thing a man does when you strangle him is loose control of his bowels. He shits himself. So I’ll be strangling them and dragin’ them back into the brush (he puts his arm tightly around my neck and pulls me across the guard shack in the office chair I’m sitting in), back to the pit I have already dug. That’s where I cut them up so I can burn the body. You have to have the pit to drain the blood. Blood is always what puts out the fire. Doesn’t work that way with girls. Girls just don’t bleed well enough for a quick, clean cremation. Then you smash the skull and pelvis and throw that in the pit and so the only thing left after you’re done is a trail of piss and shit leading to the pit."
Wow, and people think Russell is a character.
Although I cannot openly question Rodney’s logic, I must myself ponder why he skulks around freight yards at night wearing sunglasses under the auspices of the renegade vigil anti fighting the street crime where he lives. While at the same time he buys marijuana from local drug dealers, for a friend, who from what I can gather, doesn’t get out much.
Did I miss something?
I think Rodney was put on this earth to make me feel less crazy. And I do feel less crazy. In fact I feel a whole lot better about my plot to shoot the 6ft rat in front of the guard shack.
"When in Plainfield see the Giant Rat! Oh yeah, and honk at it too. Be sure to honk at it a couple times, because I’m not trying to sleep in here!"
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Now back to our play already in progress.

Act I Scene II

John: There’s a strike at the old burnt out S&G plant
Visitor: Okay... but ummmma, what? *(1) But the plant doesn’t operate anymore.
John: Right, well it’s not the employees who are striking.
Visitor: Okay, that makes sense cause if the... What? *(2)
You’re probably wondering who’s picketing and why.(Nod)*(3) You see the nine guys outside the fence believe that there should be five more members of the demolition crew working here to clean up the burnt out mess here at 2801 S. US Rt. 30. Even though the four guys who are working here right now, seem to be doing a fine job as is. So now there are nine Mexicans outside the fence who disagree. And that’s why they are protesting.
To put this into prospective, let’s say that Russell and I go to the Village Hall and demand that the town needs another mayor, and that we should be that other mayor.

Act I Scene III

Visitor: I get it now, because...the two... and the WHAT!? *(4)
So where does the rat fit in?
The rat you ask. So if striking at a defunct plant that they never worked at in the first place isn’t ridiculous enough; they have on the picket line a 6ft inflatable rat. Like any other unfathomable act of stupidity, bullshit symbolism is in full force here. Maybe one of the guys was sick, and the rat is just a stand-in. But the taco bell Chihuahua would be more fitting if you ask me.
So, why a rat? Why not Boss Hogg, or the Cool Aid guy? Why I ask you!? It’s driven me beyond the point of madness; to where I just want to jump that rat, find it’s air nozzle, and make hate to it on the side of Route 30. That’ll give’em something to honk at!

*(1) This is the first "Double Take" in the history of essay writing.
*(2) This is the second or third "Double Take" in the history of essay writing.
*(3) Oh, by the way. This essay is audience participation.
*(4) Ah the classic "Double Take in Essay Form." Once considered clever and cute, now just another literary cliche’. Its purpose is to detract the reader from a point that is not clearly made. Similar to the "Foot Note."

No, no, I shouldn’t let this get to me. I should vent my frustrations creatively. Maybe I could get a 20ft inflatable cat, and put it on my side of the fence. Or maybe one of those huge pink gorillas with the coconut bra and poke-a-dot skirt. Or maybe I could put my boombox outside and play "Don Gondoto" over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, cha cha cha.
So why am I here?
I’m here because I needed some cash and foolishly went back to working security. There was an opening here because Joe quit and took off to Dallas, Oregon. Wait a minute. Joe should be here! Joe should be sitting in this stupid chair, in this stupid guard shack, with its stupid space heater, and stupid keys to a stupid packaging plant that burnt down, looking at that stupid rat, wondering if I should have made a move on Sara Wilson when I had the chance, and why is the coffee machine on? I fucking turned it off an hour ago! How could it be on?
But more importantly, why are they here?
What are those little Mexicans hoping to accomplish? They can’t very well interrupt the flow of commerce. People aren’t going to stop buying S&G products, because they’re not made anymore. In fact all they accomplish by standing on the sidewalk, is standing on the sidewalk. I’m half expecting the Truth dot Com people to show up.
They can have spin off called "Rat dot Com". I’ll be the token security guard. Some malnourished college type can throw rubber rats at me and criticize my working for this anti-union deconstruction company, and supporting "big tobacco". Then I can kick him in the store and say, "I’m subcontracted through my security company for this site, and I roll my own cigarettes." That’ll show them! Goddamn Rat dot Com sons of bitches.
Ah, what’s the point?
It’s late and I have a very long, very cold night of riding through the city. I’m unshaven, unwashed, my hair is a mess, and I smell a little funky because I craped my pants a bit when Rodney strangled me this morning.
Oh, and here he is now.