Here are those possible first two pages, for anyone that didn't make the meeting tonight... TEN LITTLE ALUMNI ACT I SCENE ONE (FLETCHER enters, carrying a clipboard, and looking around the cafeteria disapprovingly, which is the only way he looks at anything or anyone in the first place. He is already talking when he enters.) FLETCHER: …and so I don’t mind telling you that I am not looking forward to this little exercise in nostalgia one bit. (WAXEN enters, carrying a box of supplies. Whenever she replies to FLETCHER, she looks out toward the audience, not at him). That class, more than any other on record, was the most pathetic, clique-ridden, underachieving pod of miscreants this institution has ever seen. WAXEN: Oh, I don’t know… I don’t think they’re all that bad. FLETCHER: Not all that bad? Take Rhinoski for example. That musclebound freak was woshiped by the class for his prowess on the field, and they did whatever he said… including paying no attention to a single lecture throughout his four year tenure here. Or perhaps you recall Miss Sherman? Her predelection toward the dark beyond would have been endearing in an artist or a writer, but was just plain morbid for a young woman of no talent. WAXEN: Unique. That’s the word I would use. FLETCHER: Unique… you know what else is unique? The wonderous varieties of warts and fungus available to mankind. That doesn’t mean I’d want to spend four years of my life with them. WAXEN: No, really… when you think about it, they’re kind of sexy. FLETCHER: Did you say… sexy? WAXEN: Yeah… shapely enough to get the blood flowing… FLETCHER: That is ENTIRELY inappropriate! WAXEN: Why don’t we both try one on? See how it actually fits and feels? FLETCHER: Well, I NEVER!!! WAXEN: I have to go… big 20th reunion tonight! I’ll call you later. (WAXEN presses a button on her cell phone, takes a wireless earpiece out of her ear, and turns directly to FLETCHER). Were you saying something Jebediah? FLETCHER: (pauses, flustered) I… uh… be-deviled technology! What was wrong with the telegraph? Absolutely nothing, I daresay. Certainly prevented a lot of sexual misunderstandings. WAXEN: (turning away from him, and speaking to herself) Oh, dear… he’s raving again… FLETCHER: Frankly, I don’t know that I’d say you’re much better than any of the class of 2006 lot anyway… after all, you were barely old enough to be teaching them… what class were you again? WAXEN: Class of 2000. The Millenium Generation! FLETCHER: Oh, yes. Just a wee sapling. I have always said that there should be a clear age requirement to teach the young folks. As they say, with age comes wisdom. WAXEN: In that case, I have a question I’m pretty sure you’re qualified to answer. What is the meaning of life?
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----- Scene One Coordinator -----
---- Greg / Mr. H / whatever ----
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