PWNed in Kyrgyzstan

Jeremiah Liend

301 Annapolis St E

Saint Paul, MN 55118

jeremiahliend@gmail.com

PWNed in Kyrgyzstan

By Jeremiah Liend

Copyright, Jeremiah Liend, 2013.

Thanks.

    This piece would not be possible without contributions from three amazing women, and it is to their spirits, to their gifts, and to their mercies that I dedicate each and every ridiculous and absurd line. The first is my mother, Donna Liend, without whom I would be impossible. The second is Catie Belleveau, who has always been a humble and gracious supporter of the arts and who, in 2008 gave my mayoral campaign a generous donation, under the condition that I would write a play, of any kind. It is that patient leisure that has allowed time and space to coalesce and distill into a work of such crap, that it is sure to get trolled by adbots when we are all bust dust and farts in space. I still owe Monica and Norwood Hall a massive pizza, Mackenzie Lindahl a delivery and a ride as well, and Aunt Vicki and I WILL sing in a church SOME day. We can all hope The Church of Q. And when the spiritual debts of 2008 are paid, we can move on to the Batman for Mayor 2014 campaign with renewed vigor, less finance, and a Batman costume. Finally I must thank Ruth Baker, my own personal savior, the meaning in my life, my inspiration, my The Mastress, my partner in crime and sometimes even in law. My life made a radical change for the better when I threw down the bottle, took up your hand, and became a hobo-terrorist with you. Every day is an adventure, and every night is a mystery. When I see you pwn the nwbs and the nazis in their sandy vaginas, it takes my breath away. I would also like to thank, as a ridiculous afterthought, all of the adbots who so regularly visit my site and offer my faint praise in return for my help in your desire to sell affordable e-cigs and online advice. And to my faithful readers, who have continued to read my lunatic ramblings over the years. I say thanks. 

<3 p="">

JTSL

Q

Cast of Characters:

JESTER. Male, 30s, Former biology student, soldier against his will, medium build.

PREACHER. Male, 20s, Chaplain, member of a cult, soldier against his will, very tall.

THE MASTRESS. Female, 30s, Graduate student turned soldier, bad ass, average.

DR. Q. Male, 40s, Lobotomized super-assassin, average build.

Setting:

A Barn, Groznoye, Kyrgyzstan. The near future. [2040s]. Day. The barn should be smallish and dirty. To stage left there are three stables with animal husbandry equipment and loose hay. To stage right there is a single bale of hay in the upstage corner. There are two exits, one door, preferably sliding, upstage left, and one downstage right 

(Preacher and Jester burst into the barn and leap prone to the ground. They are both laden in combat gear. Preacher brandishes a hot-pink rocket launcher and Jester holds a knife handle. They both crawl towards a corner. )

PREACH

 Holy hell! What the F was that!? We have to GTFO! Did you see them?!

JESTER

 No, I didn’t see anything!

PREACH

All I saw were the impacts. They’re using a suppressor! OH F! We are so PWNed! PWNed so hard! I’ve been shot in the spine!

JESTER

Let me see!

                                                                        (Preacher looks at Jester’s spine)

PREACHER

Is it bad, Jester? Doctor Jester Can You See My Spine!? Am I pwned?

JESTER

It isn’t good, kid.

PREACHER

Give it to me straight!

JESTER

Calm down, it just broke your spine armor. Calm down. Maybe we lost them.

PREACH

Lolz, Jester. I lolz at you. We were herded in here.

JESTER

Just calm yourself. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

PREACH

We are PWNEd! BWNed and PWNed and F’ed in the A!

JESTER

Letters! Letters.

PREACH

Can you see anything?

JESTER

I’m lying on the ground very comfortably, Preach.  You look.

PREACH

OK. OW! OOOOWWW!!! My spine!

(Preacher and Jester rise to crouching and then standing. They pace in the little room that they are allowed. Jester indicates Preacher’s rocket launcher.)

JESTER

You got a rocket for that?

PREACH

Nah. What is that you got there, kitten?

JESTER

Knife handle.

PREACH

Just the handle?

JESTER

Yes. Ballistic knife. I shot the blade behind me. Do you have your rifle?

PREACH

Dropped it. You?

JESTER

I threw it in the directions of the shots.

PREACH

It have a bayoneted on it?

JESTER

Oh no. Wouldn’t a bayonet be nice?

PREACH

Then…?

JESTER

Oh… just to distract. It was a distracting action.

PREACH

Sure. What are you holding? Grenades? Ammo? Flashbangs?

JESTER

Nothing. Nothing, nothing nothing. I am here to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I am  all out of bubble gum. And I do not really kick ass.

PREACH

Damn it. FUBAR! Pockets pockets everywhere and not a thing to pwn.

JESTER

What is that? What is that word?

PREACH

What?

JESTER

PWN?

PREACH

What, seriously?

JESTER

Yes, seriously.

PREACH

I use the word all the time.

JESTER

Yes, and I don’t understand it any of the times.

PREACH

Really?

JESTER

Really.

PREACH

For reals!?

JESTER

Yes.

PREACH

It means… uh. To be completely and utterly owned. Defeated.

JESTER

So why don’t you say owned?

PREACH

I don’t know. I think it has to do with a programming error.

JESTER

So, we’re pwned?

PREACH

On hardcore.

JESTER

Curses. We need to escape.

PREACH

Yes! We need to GTFO! You got any bars?

JESTER

BARS! BARRSSS!!!

(Jester pulls out his phone.)

JESTER

YES! We are getting out of here!

(Jester connects with HQ. )

PREACH

Put me on your tooth!

JESTER

I will!

(There is a voice on the other end of the line.)

HQ

Echo bravo victor delta, confirm.

JESTER

Confirm, bulldog, bulldog, bulldog.

HQ

Three bulldogs, confirmed. Go ahead.

JESTER

This is sergeant Whiting with PFC Clemons, we are bingo on ammo and requesting immediate extraction. Over.

HQ

Hold please.

                                                                        (A too long pause.)

JESTER

Hi… hello?

HQ

Sergeant, we are in receipt of your request. Extraction unavailable at this time. You are disavowed. Good luck, and MacBeth. Over and out. 

(There is a loud click.)

JESTER

We are doomed.

PREACH

PWNed! YES! Exactly!

JESTER

Crumbs.

PREACH

PWNED ON HARDCORE!

JESTER

Disavowed like a sad James Bond.

PREACH

This is the suxorz.

JESTER

Stop it with your leet speak! Speak American, damn  it!

PREACH

Sorry. Sorry. When I get nervous I speak in code.

JESTER

We can survive. There must be a way. Whoever is out there doesn’t know that you don’t have a rocket. That’s something. Look around for something we can use.

(Both men look around the barn for usable materials.)

PREACH

Poop. Poop, and piss, and decaying leather goods.

JESTER

A blanket.

PREACH

Bulletproof?

JESTER

Horse.

PREACH

F.

JESTER

Hay.

PREACH

Yeah?

JESTER

Hay. Hay is for horses but cows eat it to, if you don't be quiet ill feed some to you.

PREACH

Now is not the time.

JESTER

Nothing. Nothing useful.

PREACH

We need to GTFO! It is all FUBAR! How good do you think they are?

JESTER

Out there?

PREACH

Yeah.

JESTER

Amazing. They could have taken us at any time. We were herded.

PREACH

F.

JESTER

Letters!

PREACH

Sorry. Sorry. What do we do, Jester? WHAT DO WE DO!?

JESTER

We could bolt? Flee?! Just run for it?

PREACH

And?

JESTER

Be shot in the back? Probably. Spine. Your spine is already in bad shape…

PREACH

Well, then we could rush them. Just bum rush them. Charge. They can’t shoot both of us?

JESTER

I think we both know that’s a lie.

PREACH

Sure.

JESTER

Doomed.

PREACH

PWNed. Well… many of my faiths maintain that dying in battle will get us to heaven, or closer to heaven, so I think, no matter what, we should go down fighting.

JESTER

I don’t know if I want to do that.

PREACH

You would rather go down crying?

JESTER

Maybe…

PREACH

C’mon, man! Let’s go out there and get them! They will never expect it! We have the element of surprise, and our roguish good looks!

JESTER

No. No, we should wait. Every second we are alive is another chance. We can eat hay. Dig in deep. That leather is probably good for a few meals. Worse comes to worse we can eat one another’s hands and faces. We hole up long enough and uur opponent may die of natural causes.

PREACH

You’re funny, Jester. But probably whoever is out there actually has food, which we do not. Food pills, or whatever. We will get weaker while they get stronger. We will eat our hands while their hands remain.

JESTER

That is probably true. I’m talking crazy over here. Thinking of your delicious face.

PREACH

I know. I know, kitten. But, so, for reals, what do we do?

                                                                        (Jester considers seriously.)

JESTER

We die.

PREACH

Negative, Ghost Rider. That is not a good plan. Unless it is fighting. And Odin is real.

JESTER

Well, maybe we should pray to your crazy feathered snake God?

(Preacher is very quiet.)

PREACH

Words hurt more than fists.

JESTER

I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. You are free to worship whatever imaginary creature you want.

PREACH

Thank you.

JESTER

But in all seriousness, I think we are both of us doomed. I don’t see a way out. I wish I did, but I just don’t see it.

PREACH

F.

JESTER

Crumbs.

PREACH

So… what now?

(Jester takes a moment to consider.)

JESTER

You ever hear about Kübler-Ross?

PREACH

Is that a punk group?

JESTER

No. I don’t think so, anyway. Have you heard about the five stages of grief?

PREACH

I may have watched an episode of The Simpsons about it.

JESTER

So we aren’t starting from square one. Well, there was this woman, Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, and she created these stages of death to go through. It was supposed to help cancer patients come to terms with their mortality. Make their transition more comfortable.

PREACH

I don’t think The Simpsons covered that.

JESTER

Well, their writing team isn’t flawless.

PREACH

So?

JESTER

Well, our situation is essentially terminal, and so maybe we should just go through them?

PREACH

Why?

JESTER

To… to calm us? Prepare us? So we don’t die shitting and screaming and what not? In case they have a camera? To make sure our deaths aren’t posted on youtube as hilarious shenanegins? So that we aren’t as horrified at the end of all things? What’s the alternative? Do you have any better ideas?

PREACH

You’re right. OK. I will do your Kübler-Ross thing… but not because you say so.

JESTER

Great! OK. Uh… let’s see. Uh… five stages of grief… just… ah… give me a minute here…

PREACH

Don’t you know it?

JESTER

No no, I do. It’s just been a while since A.P. Psychology.

PREACH

Take your time.

JESTER

First stage… first stage… first stage… OK. AH! DENIAL!

PREACH

Oh! Oh, good. Uh. Let’s see. Here goes nothing; I’m not even supposed to be here!

JESTER

GOOD! Good! Go on!

PREACH

F the draft board anyhow!

JESTER

Right in the A!

PREACH

I was supposed to be a lovable slacker! I was supposed to be at home, taking bong rips and, watching cartoons, and collecting my gubment check for some overblown and relatively minor psychological condition!

JESTER

And I was supposed to be in college! And here I am, in Kyrgyzstan! Kyrgyzstan! I don’t even really know where, on the globe, we are!? Could you even find it on a map?

PREACH

No one could! I hate this place!

JESTER

NO! No, save your hate for anger, let’s stay in denial!

PREACH

Oh good, there is an anger phase?

JESTER

Oh yes!

PREACH

OK. Good. YEAH! I’m not even supposed to BE here!

JESTER

I should be taking biology classes! Studying fish and things! I’m not even good at killing people!

PREACH

Me neither! I’m a chaplain! For Gods sakes! I’m really a pacifist!

JESTER

Me too!

PREACH

I only like simulated killing people!

JESTER

And I don’t even like that!

PREACH

I don’t even like real guns! They scare me!

JESTER

I have been gripped with terror for years!

PREACH

We aren’t even supposed to BE here!

JESTER

And you know what, on a purely scientific level, we aren’t even here!

PREACH

What do you mean?

JESTER

It’s science! We’re made of atoms, right, but the actual material of existence is all just space. I read somewhere, if you were to take all of the cosmos, and remove all of the space between electrons and neutrons and what not, that the entire works would fit in a bucket!

PREACH

A Bucket?

JESTER

Yes!

PREACH

How big a bucket?

JESTER

Five gallon, I think? Like a larger paint bucket?

PREACH

That doesn’t sound right…

JESTER

But it’s true! Why would I lie about that?

PREACH

Just seems like… everything ever would take up more space.

JESTER

But it doesn’t! Life is weird!

PREACH

It sure is…

JESTER

So we aren’t even really here!

PREACH

Sure!

JESTER

And whoever that assassin is out there? Probably not there either!

PREACH

SURE!

JESTER

Maybe they left!?

PREACH

Or maybe we were just hallucinating!

JESTER

Oh, that’s good!

PREACH

Right!? We’ve both probably got PTSD pretty wicked bad! We’re probably just making up the gun shots! And the spine wound! I have a family history of back problems! Those shots were… cars backfiring… or… or ball lightning… or… I dunno!

JESTER

YES!

PREACH

YEAH!

JESTER

Hey, why not take a look out the door and see!?

PREACH

Yeah!

(Preacher takes a moment to bolster his philosophy and peers out the door. Immediately a laser beam paints his forehead. )

JESTER

OH! Oh… no…

PREACH

What?

JESTER

Oh… you’ve… you’ve got a laser on you… on… your face.

PREACH

Oh… oh F.

JESTER

Just… come back in… really slowly.

(Preacher goes back into the barn.)

JESTER

So, that’s denial.

PREACH

NEXT!

JESTER

ANGER!

PREACH

YEAHHHH!!!!

JESTER

I am so angry!

PREACH

I am probably more angry!

JESTER

Well, I very much doubt that. I am VERY angry.

PREACH

What makes you think you are more angry than me?

JESTER

I guess I don’t have anything empirical. I just feel like I am probably more angry than you.

PREACH

Well what are you angry about?

JESTER

Oh… things.

PREACH

And stuff?

JESTER

Wait, what were you angry about earlier!?

PREACH

Kyrgyzstan!!!

JESTER

Yes!

PREACH

F this country!

JESTER

YES!

PREACH

It is like Soviet Russia vomited out a whole country!

JESTER

YES!

PREACH

All these communist buildings and dirty people!

JESTER

SO dirty!

PREACH

It’s like they took all of the most interesting and wonderful things about a culture and then they built grey and terrible walls around it, and then everyone bought blue jeans and coke a cola and said F the rebuilding effort!

JESTER

Oh, you might be more angry than me. You are so angry!

PREACH

I know! But hey, tell me what makes you so angry!

JESTER

Yes!?

PREACH

Yeah!!!

JESTER

Sure! Uh… yes! I’m SO ANGRY!

PREACH

Yeah!?

JESTER

AT WAR!

PREACH

YEAH!!!

JESTER

What are we doing over here!? Killing people for what? Resources? What do they have? Ugly buildings!? What? Why are we here? Stopping communism? You can’t fight a philosophy! You can’t defeat thought! Not with guns! Maybe with education?

PREACH

Keep the anger up! Less speculation!

JESTER

Right! Yes! Yes, so what, we get to DIE!? Because of some dude at the turn of the century writing a book!? Or what? Extremism?! I saw us napalm a school, earlier today, and you think you are curbing extremism with this? What does that serve!? What possible point is there to any of this!?

PREACH

Unleash the fury!!!

JESTER

And also… also… no, I guess that is it. I am mostly angry at war.

PREACH

What is it good for!?

JESTER

Absolutely nothing!

PREACH

Say it again!

JESTER

No. No I’m fine, I think.

PREACH

OK. Are we good with anger?

JESTER

I am also more than a little angry at the army for abandoning us.

PREACH

Yeah. Yeah, I share your anger.

JESTER

Well good. It feels like we are losing some momentum here, so maybe we should move on?

PREACH

Yeah, yeah, what’s next?

JESTER

Bargaining.

PREACH

Oh. Cool. With who?

JESTER

You know, whoever. Whatever?

PREACH

Uh. Well… I guess it is just you. That I can bargain with. So. Our options are somewhat limited here. But no. We can do this… uh… maybe you should die first?

JESTER

Very well.

PREACH

Oh. Well. Uh. That didn’t work.

JESTER

No. Well, maybe? Oh, like we could… or I should put some conditions on it?

PREACH

Maybe? Or maybe we could do something else… like… we could make a suicide pact?

JESTER

What kind?

PREACH

Uh. I dunno. Suicide by assassin? I guess that isn’t really anything new. Or, or you know, you could kill me?

JESTER

Just to… what? To deny them the pleasure?

PREACH

Maybe? Like maybe they get a per-person kill payment?

JESTER

Like a commission?

PREACH

Is that what they mean by a commissioned officer?

JESTER

To be entirely honest I never paid attention to the chain of command.

PREACH

Me neither. We’re pretty terrible soldiers.

JESTER

That much is clear. Look, friend, I honestly don’t know if I could kill you.

PREACH

Yeah. I don’t think I could kill you either. Thanks man.

JESTER

Hey, don’t mention it. Maybe if we had our guns, MAYBE… but I don’t think I could… you know… like beat you to death with hay, for instance.

PREACH

Sure. Or like, choke you. If we had a choke one another pact, someone is going to lose out there. And I probably couldn’t bludgeon you to death either. We sort of end up with the same sort of problems.

JESTER

Sure. Wait! GODS!

PREACH

What?

JESTER

Gods! That’s who most people bargain with!

PREACH

OH! Sure! Like, get rid of my cancer and I’ll join the clergy… or… donate my time to charity or whatever.

JESTER

Obviously a lot of cancer victims are terrible liars. But yes, pray to all your fluffy Gods!

PREACH

And the non-fluffy ones too, here, let me look at The Book of Q and compile a list.

JESTER

Super-awesome!

(Preacher consults his bible to create a list of Gods.)

PREACH

You should get some prayers in too, maybe, just in case? Pascal’s wager and stuff?

JESTER

Sorry, no. Waste of time. I don’t believe in Gods.

PREACH

Well that’s OK, Jester. They don’t believe in you either.

JESTER

There is only one God I respect, and that is the flying spaghetti monster.

PREACH

Don’t worry, he is on the list.

JESTER

Oh good.

PREACH

 I’ve got a list here. And let me just check my cross refrence table… compare THAT to the astrological movements… raise the dead…  and… crumbs. Wait, no! I forgot it’s a leap year! Just a second! That may make all the… no. Nope. Our prayers came back unread. It seems that they all want us to die.

JESTER

Really?

PREACH

For reals. Well, most everyone. I think the Unitarians want us to live, but it’s not clear.

JESTER

Crumbs.

PREACH

WAIT!

JESTER

What!?

PREACH

Why don’t we bargain with them?

JESTER

Who?

PREACH

Whoever is out there!?

JESTER

But… what can we offer them?

PREACH

I dunno!? Tacos! Hamburgers at a latter date! Massive IOUs? Dry hand jobs? Whatever!? We don’t know who we’re dealing with, maybe we can get off with an apology!?

JESTER

You’re right, Preach. Anything is worth a chance.

(Jester pulls out his phone, and suddenly, appearing in the barn, is Dr. Q. This can be accomplished through a number of means, but probably the best would be the back wall presented as a scrim, with the next best being concealed in the bales of hay.)

DR.Q

Hey there.

(Jester and Preacher scream and brandish their impotent weapons at the interloper.)

DR.Q

Relax. I am not really here. I am interfacing with your AR goggles. I am merely a projection. Welcome to the 22^nd century, nwbs.

JESTER

Oh good. Lucky for you! Because we didn’t want to poon you!

PREACH

PWN. PWN. Like bone.

DR.Q

The chaplain is correct. But I think you will find that, in the end, it is you who will be pwned.

JESTER

What do you want!?

DR. Q

You called me.

JESTER

Yes, to find out what you want?!

PREACH

An incredibly dry handjob for instance?

                                                                        (Preacher gently blows unto his hand.)

DR. Q

I want only to pwn you.

JESTER

But why!?

DR. Q

Because I am only three from the record.

PREACH

What record?

DR. Q

Highest kill count.

PREACH

Kill count? There’s only one person anywhere close that record…

JESTER

Who are you?

DR. Q

I am Dr. Quaddle.

(Both men gasp.)

JESTER

Dr. Q?

DR. Q

I am that dudeface.

PREACH [Whispered]

We are so pwned…

DR. Q

It’s true! But fear not, you will be becoming part of history. Your pwning will let me finally overtake Vasili Blokhin as the most pwningest man of all time. Blokhin was only killing prisoners, after all. And here I am, out in the middle of whatever the hell country this is, making it happen. You two will tie the record and then… but I am getting ahead of myself. Why don’t you two just walk out into the open? I will make it quick and awesome. I am putting together an assassins training video. Your deaths may be recorded for quality assurance purposes.

JESTER

But, what can we offer you to change your mind? Money? Tacos? Handjobs?

PREACH

DRY handjobs?

(Preacher continues to blow on his hand, which is, by this time very dry.)

DR. Q

I am sorry. The kill count is everything. Emotion is nothing. I will give you all the time you need to come to terms, but the rest is death and dying.

(With that, Dr. Q disappears and Jester and Preacher are left alone.)

PREACH

Dr. Q.

JESTER

The one and only.

PREACH

Well… at least if we let him break the record… we might get in the news? Tweeted or something?

JESTER

Maybe he will be done then? Maybe he will retire?

PREACH

Yeah.

JESTER

We could save countless thousands of others?

PREACH

Yeah… isn’t that something?

JESTER

Yes.

PREACH

Let’s stick with the plan. What comes after bargaining?

JESTER

Depression.

PREACH

Oh good.

JESTER

Yes.

PREACH

We appear to be a step ahead.

JESTER

Yes.

PREACH

I was going to be an actor, once.

JESTER

Really?

PREACH

Yeah. Yeah, I did some stuff. Did a comedy show, off, off, off, off, off, off Broadway.

JESTER

Was it good?

PREACH

It wasn’t bad. I did a couple short films. Online series.

JESTER

I never knew.

PREACH

Well… yeah.

JESTER

I was going to be a teacher.

PREACH

Yeah?

JESTER

I wanted to teach biology.

PREACH

What grade?

JESTER

Oh, high school, maybe middle-school. I like young people. Their brains are like little sponges.

PREACH

I worry that I may be going to hell. If such a thing exists.

JESTER

Yes?

PREACH

Yeah. Well. Yeah. There are a lot of Gods who have a lot of problems with the things I’ve done. I can only hope that Quetsoquaddle saves.

JESTER

Well, I am expecting, and really kind of hoping for, oblivion.

PREACH

Well, that would certainly be much better than hell.

JESTER

Yes. Balls.

PREACH

F.

JESTER

Crumbs.

PREACH

Jester, it has been a pleasure serving with you.

JESTER

Preach, it has been my honor.

(Preacher and Jester embrace.)

JESTER

You ready?

PREACH

Yeah. I think I am.

(Both men prepare to run through the door when suddenly, The Mastress bursts through the door, silenced gun fire spitting behind her.

She hurls herself prone and both men brandish their impotent weapons at her.)

MASTRESS

Don’t shoot you ninnies! It’s me!

PREACH

MASTRESS!

JESTER

THE Mastress!!!

(Both men help her up.)

MASTRESS

What the F are you dudefaces doing here?

JESTER

Nothing.

PREACH

Just waiting to die!

JESTER

Till YOU got here!

PREACH

Is that weapon hot!?

(The Mastress drops her clip.)

MASTRESS

Nope. Bingo on ammo. All I have is my knife.

JESTER

OOOO!

(Jester takes the knife from The Mastress, breaks it, and attempts to put the blade into his handle.)

PREACH

What did you do?

JESTER

It doesn’t work. Damn it.

MASTRESS

You broke my knife.

JESTER

I was trying to fix my handle. Sorry.

(Jester hands The Mastress back her knife handle.)

MASTRESS

Thanks…  Major douche.

JESTER

Sorry.

PREACHER

Do you have anything else deadly? In those fun and exciting pouches and pockets?

MASTRESS

Nothing. All I have is a bag of dicks.

                                                                        (The Mastress shows the men her bag of dicks.)

JESTER

Wow.

PREACH

What a massive bag of dicks.

MASTRESS

There are a few boxes in the bag too. It’s been a busy day.

PREACH

You terrify and delight me.

MASTRESS

Thanks.

PREACH

That is kind of gross though.

MASTRESS

I know. I shame myself with my psychotic behavior, but it helps me cope.\

JESTER

Maybe you could just take a pottery class or something, instead of mutilating the dead.

MASTRESS

Pottery is lame. Genitals are awesome.

PREACH

You are so badass I can’t stand it!

JESTER

He’s right. But WAIT! Yes! You can call HQ!!! You can get us an extraction!

PREACH

Yeah! HQ LOVES you!

MASTRESS

Did you call them?

JESTER

Yes… but we got disavowed…

(Jester and The Preacher kick the dirt in embarrassment.)

MASTRESS

Well, I’ll give it a shot, but this is a pretty hot LZ. I doubt they will give us a lift.

JESTER

Just give it your best shot, we can’t ask for more than that.

(Jester hands The Mastress his phone and she calls.)

HQ

Victor Golf Baker Delta, confirm.

MASTRESS

Shitzu Shitzu Bulldog Ball toy.

HQ

Confirmed, Baker, we have you. Go ahead.

MASTRESS

Lieutenant Baker, at Whiskey Tango Shopvac, requesting immediate extraction, over.

HQ

Hold please.

JESTER

That’s what they said to us at first too…

                                                                        (There is a too long pause.)

MASTRESS

HQ, confirm extract, over.

HQ

Lieutenant Baker, I am sorry to have to tell you, but you are disavowed. Over.

MASTRESS

Disavowment not confirmed, repeat and expand, over.

HQ

Mission Labeled Standoff is off. We have confirmed civilian casualties in numbers exceeding mission parameters. Collateral damages too large to ignore. AFB has fallen back to rearward location and surviving personal have been disavowed. Sorry. Over.

MASTRESS

Disavowment confirmed, HQ, and a solid FU in the A. Over and out.

(The Mastress hands the phone back to Jester.)

MASTRESS

Well, we gave it the old college try, but I think we are pwned.

PREACH

Pwned like nwbs.

JESTER

On hardcore. Whatever that means.

MASTRESS

Well, this is all FUBAR.

JESTER

Yes. We all agree on these things.

PREACH

Sorry you ended up here, Mastress. We’ve been working on an escape, but everything is pointing to being completely hosed.

JESTER

We had just run through the Kübler-Ross, before you got here, but we could do it again, if you are interested?

MASTRESS

No. That’s OK. I took A.P. Psych II. Apparently it is BS.

JESTER

Oh. What do you mean?

MASTRESS

It’s all placebo. Just something that happens as a result of hormones, but you still end up screaming and shitting and what not.

PREACH

F. All of that therapeutic catharsis. Wasted.

MASTRESS

Yeah, my Mom was a grief counselor for several years. According to her, nothing really prepares anyone for death. It is a horrifying and spiritually crippling process bereft of dignity or function.

JESTER

Well, the good news is that the sniper out there is Dr. Q, so at least it will all be over quickly.

MASTRESS

Dr. Q?

PREACH

Yeah.

MASTRESS

For reals?

JESTER

Yes, he hacked our AR a little while ago. He’s super scary.

MASTRESS

What are the odds?

PREACH

You know him.

MASTRESS

Yeah. We dated a while ago.

PREACH

For reals!?

MASTRESS

Yeah. In college. It was…strange.

JESTER

Well, call him!

PREACH

Yeah, call him!

JESTER

Yes! Call him and plead for our miserable lives!

MASTRESS

It has been years. He probably won’t even remember me.

PREACH

Please!?

JESTER

Pretty please!?

MASTRESS

Oh, all right, give me that.

(The Mastress picks up her empty rifle and then connects using Jesters phone and, as before, Dr. Q appears in the middle of the barn, alarming the men into pointing their useless weapons at him.)

DR. Q

I am still JUST a hologram, guys.

                                                                        (Preacher and Jester relax somewhat.)

MASTRESS

Hey.

DR. Q

Hey...  you.

MASTRESS

What’s new?

DR. Q

I’m sorry. Do I know you?

MASTRESS

Oh sure, the gear. It’s Martha.

DR. Q

Who?

MASTRESS

The Mastress.

DR. Q

Oh. Oh. I see. Well. Hello. How are you?

MASTRESS

Oh. You know. OK.

DR. Q

Oh. Good. That’s good.

MASTRESS

You?

DR. Q

Oh. OK I guess. You know. Pizza sandwich. The usual.

MASTRESS

Did you really get a lobotomy?

DR. Q

Yeah. Yeah I did. Right in the brain.

MASTRESS

And how is that going?

DR. Q

Good, I guess. Can’t really complain. Wouldn’t really recommend it to friends, either. It’s a personal choice. What about you? You ever finish your dissertation?

MASTRESS

Still working on it. Final chapters. Waiting to get the drafts back.

DR. Q

Yeah.

MASTRESS

Yeah, you know. “The average doctoral candidate takes up to seven years to complete their dissertation”

DR. Q

Sure.

MASTRESS

Yeah. OK. Well, listen, we were just wondering if you could not kill us?

DR. Q

Oh?

MASTRESS

Yeah. You know, we like living. Quite a bit. And we were just hoping that you could just… you know. Not pwn us in our sandy vaginas?

DR. Q

Oh dear. You know I am three from beating the record?

MASTRESS

Really?

DR. Q

For reals! That communist executioner I always told you about.

MASTRESS

Right! Blumpkin… or something.

DR. Q

No, a blumpkin is a sexual act. Vasili Blokin. Yes.

MASTRESS

So what was his record again?

DR. Q

7,305

MASTRESS

Really!

DR. Q

Right!?

MASTRESS

You HAVE been busy!

DR. Q

I know!

MASTRESS

Man. So you have?

DR. Q

7,303

MASTRESS

That is so great. I am so glad you found something you are good at.

DR. Q

My life was so purposeless until I started really focusing in on killing a lot of people.

MASTRESS

Well… good on you.

DR. Q

Thanks.

MASTRESS

Still, I mean… there are seven billion people out there, all just asking to get PWNed? So… I mean… we’re still wondering if you wouldn’t mind letting us live? We want to live?

DR. Q

 Well… I’ll think about it.

MASTRESS

OK. Thanks.

DR. Q

Sure.

MASTRESS

OK. Well… good chatting.

(The Mastress hangs up and breathes a sigh of relief.)

MASTRESS

Awkward!!!

JESTER

I don’t know how that went.

PREACH

No. I don’t know what happened there.

JESTER

Did that go well?

MASTRESS

I don’t know. He seems very different.

PREACH

Sure.

JESTER

Well.

MASTRESS

Yeah.

JESTER

Well listen, I think we should try to get out of here. While he may be grasped with indecision.

PREACH

Yeah, that makes sense.

JESTER

But… ah. In the event that didn’t work, I was thinking we could leave messages.

PREACH

Like… death messages?

JESTER

Yeah. You know. Just in case.

PREACH

Sure.

JESTER

Preach, you want to go first?

PREACH

Sure.

(Jester hands Preacher his phone.)

PREACH

Where is your uploader?

(Jester helps Preacher navigate.)

JESTER

There, it’s recording.

PREACH

OK. Good uh. Hey! Out there in the interwebs! Just wanted to say that it is probably pretty likely I will not be surviving much longer past this post, so I just wanted to send a shout out to my FB friends and family. Want to send a special thanks to The Church of Q and its Q-Lords for taking me in. Like to give a solid FU to the military and their leadership for getting us into this mess… thanks President For Life Obama! JK. Love you, Barry. Uh… and I guess I just want to send a prayer up to that feathered snake god in the sky, Quetzoquaddle; please watch over myself and my friends as we journey into the unknown and unforeseeable. Please give you divine and serpentine mercy unto us, and smite our enemies. Amen. So mote it be. Uh. That’s it I guess. Don’t do drugs, kids!

(Preacher ends his recording and hands the phone to Jester.)

JESTER

Mastress?

MASTRESS

Sure. I want to send a video mail?

(Jester punches up the correct format. )

MASTRESS

Hey! Hey there, I hope this is recording. I don’t have a lot of time, and I don’t know what is going to happen after this, but if things go bad I just wanted to send you a message to let you know that I love you, and a miss you, and I hope that things are going great for you. Listen, I know that you have always looked up to me and listened to me, and I am so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, but I just want to make sure that you don’t join the army. No matter what you do, DO NOT… join the army. They are going to tell you that you are making a difference and making a better world, but it is all just a lie to get you to kill people and protect their interests. It will only get you killed and others killed, and you are better than that. So. Do good. Make good choices. I love you.

(The Mastress hands Jester his phone back. He types a few characters. )

PREACH

You recording anything?

JESTER

I updated by status to “Pwned in Kyrgyzstan.”

PREACH

That is it?

JESTER

Yeah. It is fine. Pregnant with irony, perhaps.

PREACH

OK. Well, I have a plan.

JESTER

Yeah?

PREACH

I am going to try to camouflage myself with this horse blanket and claim to be a sheep.

(Jester and The Mastress share a look.)

PREACH

It sounds crazy, but it just might work.

JESTER

Well… sure.

(The Preacher puts on the horse blanket and begins to baa loudly.)

PREACH

Good luck dude and chickface. BAAAAA!!!

(The Preacher crawls out of the barn, and soon his baaaing stops.)

JESTER

Did he make it?

MASTRESS

I have my doubts.

JESTER

Well… what now?

MASTRESS

Look, I think that I should go, and you should go out the other door. Dr. Q will be distracted by my presence, and that might give you enough time to escape.

JESTER

That doesn’t make sense.

MASTRESS

It makes total sense.

JESTER

No, wait, listen, come over here and look at the tree line.

(Jester leads The Mastress DSR and they look out the other door.)

JESTER

If you can make it to the tree line, you will be OK. I think I may even see a jeep.

MASTRESS

I can’t see…

JESTER

Look hard.

(As The Mastress peer out the door, Jester attempt to knock her unconscious by hitting her with his knife handle.)

MASTRESS

OW! WTF! Are you doing!?

JESTER

OH! Oh no! I’m SO sorry!

MASTRESS

What were you thinking!

JESTER

I was going to try to knock you out and then draw him away!

MASTRESS

Have you ever knocked anyone out before!?

JESTER

No! NO! I’ve only seen it done in the movies!

MASTRESS

You NWB! That never works! If you ever get knocked unconscious you have a concussion! Either you go into a coma and die, or you only are knocked out for a few seconds! Read it in a cracked article…

JESTER

I’m sorry! I just… I just didn’t want to let you die

MASTRESS

That’s sweet. You’re a very sweet idiot.

JESTER

Thanks. You’re a pretty badass chickface.

MASTRESS

Thanks. Listen, we can both bolt for the tree line. We’ll go together.

JESTER

Yeah?

MASTRESS

Yes.  

JESTER

So, even if we die it will be all Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid?

MASTRESS

Yeah. And there will be a freeze frame and they will make memes with it.

JESTER

Superawesome.

MASTRESS

OK. Let’s get out of here, Jester.

(They both flee from the barn, empty weapons brandished high. There is a very long pause and then Dr. Q enters for real. There must be a difference between how he has appeared before and now to indicate that he is real. Dr. Q peers around the barn and then we see him operate his phone.)

DR. Q

Hey. Hi. It’s Q. Yeah. Yeah, Dr. Q. Yeah. Well, I didn’t kill you, so I thought we could… get coffee… or see a movie… or… dry hand jobs or something, but you’re not here anymore. Apparently. Oh. You escaped. Yeah. No. I was just coming down. From my position.

Jeremiah Liend

301 Annapolis St E

Saint Paul, MN 55118

jeremiahliend@gmail.com

PWNed in Kyrgyzstan

By Jeremiah Liend

Copyright, Jeremiah Liend, 2013.

Cast of Characters:

JESTER. Male, 30s, Former biology student, soldier against his will, medium build.

PREACHER. Male, 20s, Chaplain, member of a cult, soldier against his will, very tall.

THE MASTRESS. Female, 30s, Graduate student turned soldier, bad ass, average.

DR. Q. Male, 40s, Lobotomized super-assassin, average build.

Setting:

A Barn, Groznoye, Kyrgyzstan. The near future. [2040s]. Day. The barn should be smallish and dirty. To stage left there are three stables with animal husbandry equipment and loose hay. To stage right there is a single bale of hay in the upstage corner. There are two exits, one door, preferably sliding, upstage left, and one downstage right.

(Preacher and Jester burst into the barn and leap prone to the ground. They are both laden in combat gear. Preacher brandishes a hot-pink rocket launcher and Jester holds a knife handle. They both crawl towards a corner. )

PREACH

 Holy hell! What the F was that!? We have to GTFO! Did you see them?!

JESTER

 No, I didn’t see anything!

PREACH

All I saw were the impacts. They’re using a suppressor! OH F! We are so PWNed! PWNed so hard! I’ve been shot in the spine!

JESTER

Let me see!

                                                                        (Preacher looks at Jester’s spine)

PREACHER

Is it bad, Jester? Doctor Jester Can You See My Spine!? Am I pwned?

JESTER

It isn’t good, kid.

PREACHER

Give it to me straight!

JESTER

Calm down, it just broke your spine armor. Calm down. Maybe we lost them.

PREACH

Lolz, Jester. I lolz at you. We were herded in here.

JESTER

Just calm yourself. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

PREACH

We are PWNEd! BWNed and PWNed and F’ed in the A!

JESTER

Letters! Letters.

PREACH

Can you see anything?

JESTER

I’m lying on the ground very comfortably, Preach.  You look.

PREACH

OK. OW! OOOOWWW!!! My spine!

(Preacher and Jester rise to crouching and then standing. They pace in the little room that they are allowed. Jester indicates Preacher’s rocket launcher.)

JESTER

You got a rocket for that?

PREACH

Nah. What is that you got there, kitten?

JESTER

Knife handle.

PREACH

Just the handle?

JESTER

Yes. Ballistic knife. I shot the blade behind me. Do you have your rifle?

PREACH

Dropped it. You?

JESTER

I threw it in the directions of the shots.

PREACH

It have a bayoneted on it?

JESTER

Oh no. Wouldn’t a bayonet be nice?

PREACH

Then…?

JESTER

Oh… just to distract. It was a distracting action.

PREACH

Sure. What are you holding? Grenades? Ammo? Flashbangs?

JESTER

Nothing. Nothing, nothing nothing. I am here to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I am  all out of bubble gum. And I do not really kick ass.

PREACH

Damn it. FUBAR! Pockets pockets everywhere and not a thing to pwn.

JESTER

What is that? What is that word?

PREACH

What?

JESTER

PWN?

PREACH

What, seriously?

JESTER

Yes, seriously.

PREACH

I use the word all the time.

JESTER

Yes, and I don’t understand it any of the times.

PREACH

Really?

JESTER

Really.

PREACH

For reals!?

JESTER

Yes.

PREACH

It means… uh. To be completely and utterly owned. Defeated.

JESTER

So why don’t you say owned?

PREACH

I don’t know. I think it has to do with a programming error.

JESTER

So, we’re pwned?

PREACH

On hardcore.

JESTER

Curses. We need to escape.

PREACH

Yes! We need to GTFO! You got any bars?

JESTER

BARS! BARRSSS!!!

(Jester pulls out his phone.)

JESTER

YES! We are getting out of here!

(Jester connects with HQ. )

PREACH

Put me on your tooth!

JESTER

I will!

(There is a voice on the other end of the line.)

HQ

Echo bravo victor delta, confirm.

JESTER

Confirm, bulldog, bulldog, bulldog.

HQ

Three bulldogs, confirmed. Go ahead.

JESTER

This is sergeant Whiting with PFC Clemons, we are bingo on ammo and requesting immediate extraction. Over.

HQ

Hold please.

                                                                        (A too long pause.)

JESTER

Hi… hello?

HQ

Sergeant, we are in receipt of your request. Extraction unavailable at this time. You are disavowed. Good luck, and MacBeth. Over and out. 

(There is a loud click.)

JESTER

We are doomed.

PREACH

PWNed! YES! Exactly!

JESTER

Crumbs.

PREACH

PWNED ON HARDCORE!

JESTER

Disavowed like a sad James Bond.

PREACH

This is the suxorz.

JESTER

Stop it with your leet speak! Speak American, damn  it!

PREACH

Sorry. Sorry. When I get nervous I speak in code.

JESTER

We can survive. There must be a way. Whoever is out there doesn’t know that you don’t have a rocket. That’s something. Look around for something we can use.

(Both men look around the barn for usable materials.)

PREACH

Poop. Poop, and piss, and decaying leather goods.

JESTER

A blanket.

PREACH

Bulletproof?

JESTER

Horse.

PREACH

F.

JESTER

Hay.

PREACH

Yeah?

JESTER

Hay. Hay is for horses but cows eat it to, if you don't be quiet ill feed some to you.

PREACH

Now is not the time.

JESTER

Nothing. Nothing useful.

PREACH

We need to GTFO! It is all FUBAR! How good do you think they are?

JESTER

Out there?

PREACH

Yeah.

JESTER

Amazing. They could have taken us at any time. We were herded.

PREACH

F.

JESTER

Letters!

PREACH

Sorry. Sorry. What do we do, Jester? WHAT DO WE DO!?

JESTER

We could bolt? Flee?! Just run for it?

PREACH

And?

JESTER

Be shot in the back? Probably. Spine. Your spine is already in bad shape…

PREACH

Well, then we could rush them. Just bum rush them. Charge. They can’t shoot both of us?

JESTER

I think we both know that’s a lie.

PREACH

Sure.

JESTER

Doomed.

PREACH

PWNed. Well… many of my faiths maintain that dying in battle will get us to heaven, or closer to heaven, so I think, no matter what, we should go down fighting.

JESTER

I don’t know if I want to do that.

PREACH

You would rather go down crying?

JESTER

Maybe…

PREACH

C’mon, man! Let’s go out there and get them! They will never expect it! We have the element of surprise, and our roguish good looks!

JESTER

No. No, we should wait. Every second we are alive is another chance. We can eat hay. Dig in deep. That leather is probably good for a few meals. Worse comes to worse we can eat one another’s hands and faces. We hole up long enough and uur opponent may die of natural causes.

PREACH

You’re funny, Jester. But probably whoever is out there actually has food, which we do not. Food pills, or whatever. We will get weaker while they get stronger. We will eat our hands while their hands remain.

JESTER

That is probably true. I’m talking crazy over here. Thinking of your delicious face.

PREACH

I know. I know, kitten. But, so, for reals, what do we do?

                                                                        (Jester considers seriously.)

JESTER

We die.

PREACH

Negative, Ghost Rider. That is not a good plan. Unless it is fighting. And Odin is real.

JESTER

Well, maybe we should pray to your crazy feathered snake God?

(Preacher is very quiet.)

PREACH

Words hurt more than fists.

JESTER

I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. You are free to worship whatever imaginary creature you want.

PREACH

Thank you.

JESTER

But in all seriousness, I think we are both of us doomed. I don’t see a way out. I wish I did, but I just don’t see it.

PREACH

F.

JESTER

Crumbs.

PREACH

So… what now?

(Jester takes a moment to consider.)

JESTER

You ever hear about Kübler-Ross?

PREACH

Is that a punk group?

JESTER

No. I don’t think so, anyway. Have you heard about the five stages of grief?

PREACH

I may have watched an episode of The Simpsons about it.

JESTER

So we aren’t starting from square one. Well, there was this woman, Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, and she created these stages of death to go through. It was supposed to help cancer patients come to terms with their mortality. Make their transition more comfortable.

PREACH

I don’t think The Simpsons covered that.

JESTER

Well, their writing team isn’t flawless.

PREACH

So?

JESTER

Well, our situation is essentially terminal, and so maybe we should just go through them?

PREACH

Why?

JESTER

To… to calm us? Prepare us? So we don’t die shitting and screaming and what not? In case they have a camera? To make sure our deaths aren’t posted on youtube as hilarious shenanegins? So that we aren’t as horrified at the end of all things? What’s the alternative? Do you have any better ideas?

PREACH

You’re right. OK. I will do your Kübler-Ross thing… but not because you say so.

JESTER

Great! OK. Uh… let’s see. Uh… five stages of grief… just… ah… give me a minute here…

PREACH

Don’t you know it?

JESTER

No no, I do. It’s just been a while since A.P. Psychology.

PREACH

Take your time.

JESTER

First stage… first stage… first stage… OK. AH! DENIAL!

PREACH

Oh! Oh, good. Uh. Let’s see. Here goes nothing; I’m not even supposed to be here!

JESTER

GOOD! Good! Go on!

PREACH

F the draft board anyhow!

JESTER

Right in the A!

PREACH

I was supposed to be a lovable slacker! I was supposed to be at home, taking bong rips and, watching cartoons, and collecting my gubment check for some overblown and relatively minor psychological condition!

JESTER

And I was supposed to be in college! And here I am, in Kyrgyzstan! Kyrgyzstan! I don’t even really know where, on the globe, we are!? Could you even find it on a map?

PREACH

No one could! I hate this place!

JESTER

NO! No, save your hate for anger, let’s stay in denial!

PREACH

Oh good, there is an anger phase?

JESTER

Oh yes!

PREACH

OK. Good. YEAH! I’m not even supposed to BE here!

JESTER

I should be taking biology classes! Studying fish and things! I’m not even good at killing people!

PREACH

Me neither! I’m a chaplain! For Gods sakes! I’m really a pacifist!

JESTER

Me too!

PREACH

I only like simulated killing people!

JESTER

And I don’t even like that!

PREACH

I don’t even like real guns! They scare me!

JESTER

I have been gripped with terror for years!

PREACH

We aren’t even supposed to BE here!

JESTER

And you know what, on a purely scientific level, we aren’t even here!

PREACH

What do you mean?

JESTER

It’s science! We’re made of atoms, right, but the actual material of existence is all just space. I read somewhere, if you were to take all of the cosmos, and remove all of the space between electrons and neutrons and what not, that the entire works would fit in a bucket!

PREACH

A Bucket?

JESTER

Yes!

PREACH

How big a bucket?

JESTER

Five gallon, I think? Like a larger paint bucket?

PREACH

That doesn’t sound right…

JESTER

But it’s true! Why would I lie about that?

PREACH

Just seems like… everything ever would take up more space.

JESTER

But it doesn’t! Life is weird!

PREACH

It sure is…

JESTER

So we aren’t even really here!

PREACH

Sure!

JESTER

And whoever that assassin is out there? Probably not there either!

PREACH

SURE!

JESTER

Maybe they left!?

PREACH

Or maybe we were just hallucinating!

JESTER

Oh, that’s good!

PREACH

Right!? We’ve both probably got PTSD pretty wicked bad! We’re probably just making up the gun shots! And the spine wound! I have a family history of back problems! Those shots were… cars backfiring… or… or ball lightning… or… I dunno!

JESTER

YES!

PREACH

YEAH!

JESTER

Hey, why not take a look out the door and see!?

PREACH

Yeah!

(Preacher takes a moment to bolster his philosophy and peers out the door. Immediately a laser beam paints his forehead. )

JESTER

OH! Oh… no…

PREACH

What?

JESTER

Oh… you’ve… you’ve got a laser on you… on… your face.

PREACH

Oh… oh F.

JESTER

Just… come back in… really slowly.

(Preacher goes back into the barn.)

JESTER

So, that’s denial.

PREACH

NEXT!

JESTER

ANGER!

PREACH

YEAHHHH!!!!

JESTER

I am so angry!

PREACH

I am probably more angry!

JESTER

Well, I very much doubt that. I am VERY angry.

PREACH

What makes you think you are more angry than me?

JESTER

I guess I don’t have anything imerical. I just feel like I am probably more angry than you.

PREACH

Well what are you angry about?

JESTER

Oh… things.

PREACH

And stuff?

JESTER

Wait, what were you angry about earlier!?

PREACH

Kyrgyzstan!!!

JESTER

Yes!

PREACH

F this country!

JESTER

YES!

PREACH

It is like Soviet Russia vomited out a whole country!

JESTER

YES!

PREACH

All these communist buildings and dirty people!

JESTER

SO dirty!

PREACH

It’s like they took all of the most interesting and wonderful things about a culture and then they built grey and terrible walls around it, and then everyone bought blue jeans and coke a cola and said F the rebuilding effort!

JESTER

Oh, you might be more angry than me. You are so angry!

PREACH

I know! But hey, tell me what makes you so angry!

JESTER

Yes!?

PREACH

Yeah!!!

JESTER

Sure! Uh… yes! I’m SO ANGRY!

PREACH

Yeah!?

JESTER

AT WAR!

PREACH

YEAH!!!

JESTER

What are we doing over here!? Killing people for what? Resources? What do they have? Ugly buildings!? What? Why are we here? Stopping communism? You can’t fight a philosophy! You can’t defeat thought! Not with guns! Maybe with education?

PREACH

Keep the anger up! Less speculation!

JESTER

Right! Yes! Yes, so what, we get to DIE!? Because of some dude at the turn of the century writing a book!? Or what? Extremism?! I saw us napalm a school, earlier today, and you think you are curbing extremism with this? What does that serve!? What possible point is there to any of this!?

PREACH

Unleash the fury!!!

JESTER

And also… also… no, I guess that is it. I am mostly angry at war.

PREACH

What is it good for!?

JESTER

Absolutely nothing!

PREACH

Say it again!

JESTER

No. No I’m fine, I think.

PREACH

OK. Are we good with anger?

JESTER

I am also more than a little angry at the army for abandoning us.

PREACH

Yeah. Yeah, I share your anger.

JESTER

Well good. It feels like we are losing some momentum here, so maybe we should move on?

PREACH

Yeah, yeah, what’s next?

JESTER

Bargaining.

PREACH

Oh. Cool. With who?

JESTER

You know, whoever. Whatever?

PREACH

Uh. Well… I guess it is just you. That I can bargain with. So. Our options are somewhat limited here. But no. We can do this… uh… maybe you should die first?

JESTER

Very well.

PREACH

Oh. Well. Uh. That didn’t work.

JESTER

No. Well, maybe? Oh, like we could… or I should put some conditions on it?

PREACH

Maybe? Or maybe we could do something else… like… we could make a suicide pact?

JESTER

What kind?

PREACH

Uh. I dunno. Suicide by assassin? I guess that isn’t really anything new. Or, or you know, you could kill me?

JESTER

Just to… what? To deny them the pleasure?

PREACH

Maybe? Like maybe they get a per-person kill payment?

JESTER

Like a commission?

PREACH

Is that what they mean by a commissioned officer?

JESTER

To be entirely honest I never paid attention to the chain of command.

PREACH

Me neither. We’re pretty terrible soldiers.

JESTER

That much is clear. Look, friend, I honestly don’t know if I could kill you.

PREACH

Yeah. I don’t think I could kill you either. Thanks man.

JESTER

Hey, don’t mention it. Maybe if we had our guns, MAYBE… but I don’t think I could… you know… like beat you to death with hay, for instance.

PREACH

Sure. Or like, choke you. If we had a choke one another pact, someone is going to lose out there. And I probably couldn’t bludgeon you to death either. We sort of end up with the same sort of problems.

JESTER

Sure. Wait! GODS!

PREACH

What?

JESTER

Gods! That’s who most people bargain with!

PREACH

OH! Sure! Like, get rid of my cancer and I’ll join the clergy… or… donate my time to charity or whatever.

JESTER

Obviously a lot of cancer victims are terrible liars. But yes, pray to all your fluffy Gods!

PREACH

And the non-fluffy ones too, here, let me look at The Book of Q and compile a list.

JESTER

Super-awesome!

(Preacher consults his bible to create a list of Gods.)

PREACH

You should get some prayers in too, maybe, just in case? Pascal’s wager and stuff?

JESTER

Sorry, no. Waste of time. I don’t believe in Gods.

PREACH

Well that’s OK, Jester. They don’t believe in you either.

JESTER

There is only one God I respect, and that is the flying spaghetti monster.

PREACH

Don’t worry, he is on the list.

JESTER

Oh good.

PREACH

 I’ve got a list here. And let me just check my cross refrence table… compare THAT to the astrological movements… raise the dead…  and… crumbs. Wait, no! I forgot it’s a leap year! Just a second! That may make all the… no. Nope. Our prayers came back unread. It seems that they all want us to die.

JESTER

Really?

PREACH

For reals. Well, most everyone. I think the Unitarians want us to live, but it’s not clear.

JESTER

Crumbs.

PREACH

WAIT!

JESTER

What!?

PREACH

Why don’t we bargain with them?

JESTER

Who?

PREACH

Whoever is out there!?

JESTER

But… what can we offer them?

PREACH

I dunno!? Tacos! Hamburgers at a latter date! Massive IOUs? Dry hand jobs? Whatever!? We don’t know who we’re dealing with, maybe we can get off with an apology!?

JESTER

You’re right, Preach. Anything is worth a chance.

(Jester pulls out his phone, and suddenly, appearing in the barn, is Dr. Q. This can be accomplished through a number of means, but probably the best would be the back wall presented as a scrim, with the next best being concealed in the bales of hay.)

DR.Q

Hey there.

(Jester and Preacher scream and brandish their impotent weapons at the interloper.)

DR.Q

Relax. I am not really here. I am interfacing with your AR goggles. I am merely a projection. Welcome to the 22^nd century, nwbs.

JESTER

Oh good. Lucky for you! Because we didn’t want to poon you!

PREACH

PWN. PWN. Like bone.

DR.Q

The chaplain is correct. But I think you will find that, in the end, it is you who will be pwned.

JESTER

What do you want!?

DR. Q

You called me.

JESTER

Yes, to find out what you want?!

PREACH

An incredibly dry handjob for instance?

                                                                        (Preacher gently blows unto his hand.)

DR. Q

I want only to pwn you.

JESTER

But why!?

DR. Q

Because I am only three from the record.

PREACH

What record?

DR. Q

Highest kill count.

PREACH

Kill count? There’s only one person anywhere close that record…

JESTER

Who are you?

DR. Q

I am Dr. Quaddle.

(Both men gasp.)

JESTER

Dr. Q?

DR. Q

I am that dudeface.

PREACH [Whispered]

We are so pwned…

DR. Q

It’s true! But fear not, you will be becoming part of history. Your pwning will let me finally overtake Vasili Blokhin as the most pwningest man of all time. Blokhin was only killing prisoners, after all. And here I am, out in the middle of whatever the hell country this is, making it happen. You two will tie the record and then… but I am getting ahead of myself. Why don’t you two just walk out into the open? I will make it quick and awesome. I am putting together an assassins training video. Your deaths may be recorded for quality assurance purposes.

JESTER

But, what can we offer you to change your mind? Money? Tacos? Handjobs?

PREACH

DRY handjobs?

(Preacher continues to blow on his hand, which is, by this time very dry.)

DR. Q

I am sorry. The kill count is everything. Emotion is nothing. I will give you all the time you need to come to terms, but the rest is death and dying.

(With that, Dr. Q disappears and Jester and Preacher are left alone.)

PREACH

Dr. Q.

JESTER

The one and only.

PREACH

Well… at least if we let him break the record… we might get in the news? Tweeted or something?

JESTER

Maybe he will be done then? Maybe he will retire?

PREACH

Yeah.

JESTER

We could save countless thousands of others?

PREACH

Yeah… isn’t that something?

JESTER

Yes.

PREACH

Let’s stick with the plan. What comes after bargaining?

JESTER

Depression.

PREACH

Oh good.

JESTER

Yes.

PREACH

We appear to be a step ahead.

JESTER

Yes.

PREACH

I was going to be an actor, once.

JESTER

Really?

PREACH

Yeah. Yeah, I did some stuff. Did a comedy show, off, off, off, off, off, off Broadway.

JESTER

Was it good?

PREACH

It wasn’t bad. I did a couple short films. Online series.

JESTER

I never knew.

PREACH

Well… yeah.

JESTER

I was going to be a teacher.

PREACH

Yeah?

JESTER

I wanted to teach biology.

PREACH

What grade?

JESTER

Oh, high school, maybe middle-school. I like young people. Their brains are like little sponges.

PREACH

I worry that I may be going to hell. If such a thing exists.

JESTER

Yes?

PREACH

Yeah. Well. Yeah. There are a lot of Gods who have a lot of problems with the things I’ve done. I can only hope that Quetsoquaddle saves.

JESTER

Well, I am expecting, and really kind of hoping for, oblivion.

PREACH

Well, that would certainly be much better than hell.

JESTER

Yes. Balls.

PREACH

F.

JESTER

Crumbs.

PREACH

Jester, it has been a pleasure serving with you.

JESTER

Preach, it has been my honor.

(Preacher and Jester embrace.)

JESTER

You ready?

PREACH

Yeah. I think I am.

(Both men prepare to run through the door when suddenly, The Mastress bursts through the door, silenced gun fire spitting behind her.

She hurls herself prone and both men brandish their impotent weapons at her.)

MASTRESS

Don’t shoot you ninnies! It’s me!

PREACH

MASTRESS!

JESTER

THE Mastress!!!

(Both men help her up.)

MASTRESS

What the F are you dudefaces doing here?

JESTER

Nothing.

PREACH

Just waiting to die!

JESTER

Till YOU got here!

PREACH

Is that weapon hot!?

(The Mastress drops her clip.)

MASTRESS

Nope. Bingo on ammo. All I have is my knife.

JESTER

OOOO!

(Jester takes the knife from The Mastress, breaks it, and attempts to put the blade into his handle.)

PREACH

What did you do?

JESTER

It doesn’t work. Damn it.

MASTRESS

You broke my knife.

JESTER

I was trying to fix my handle. Sorry.

(Jester hands The Mastress back her knife handle.)

MASTRESS

Thanks…  Major douche.

JESTER

Sorry.

PREACHER

Do you have anything else deadly? In those fun and exciting pouches and pockets?

MASTRESS

Nothing. All I have is a bag of dicks.

                                                                        (The Mastress shows the men her bag of dicks.)

JESTER

Wow.

PREACH

What a massive bag of dicks.

MASTRESS

There are a few boxes in the bag too. It’s been a busy day.

PREACH

You terrify and delight me.

MASTRESS

Thanks.

PREACH

That is kind of gross though.

MASTRESS

I know. I shame myself with my psychotic behavior, but it helps me cope.\

JESTER

Maybe you could just take a pottery class or something, instead of mutilating the dead.

MASTRESS

Pottery is lame. Genitals are awesome.

PREACH

You are so badass I can’t stand it!

JESTER

He’s right. But WAIT! Yes! You can call HQ!!! You can get us an extraction!

PREACH

Yeah! HQ LOVES you!

MASTRESS

Did you call them?

JESTER

Yes… but we got disavowed…

(Jester and The Preacher kick the dirt in embarrassment.)

MASTRESS

Well, I’ll give it a shot, but this is a pretty hot LZ. I doubt they will give us a lift.

JESTER

Just give it your best shot, we can’t ask for more than that.

(Jester hands The Mastress his phone and she calls.)

HQ

Victor Golf Baker Delta, confirm.

MASTRESS

Shitzu Shitzu Bulldog Ball toy.

HQ

Confirmed, Baker, we have you. Go ahead.

MASTRESS

Lieutenant Baker, at Whiskey Tango Shopvac, requesting immediate extraction, over.

HQ

Hold please.

JESTER

That’s what they said to us at first too…

                                                                        (There is a too long pause.)

MASTRESS

HQ, confirm extract, over.

HQ

Lieutenant Baker, I am sorry to have to tell you, but you are disavowed. Over.

MASTRESS

Disavowment not confirmed, repeat and expand, over.

HQ

Mission Labeled Standoff is off. We have confirmed civilian casualties in numbers exceeding mission parameters. Collateral damages too large to ignore. AFB has fallen back to rearward location and surviving personal have been disavowed. Sorry. Over.

MASTRESS

Disavowment confirmed, HQ, and a solid FU in the A. Over and out.

(The Mastress hands the phone back to Jester.)

MASTRESS

Well, we gave it the old college try, but I think we are pwned.

PREACH

Pwned like nwbs.

JESTER

On hardcore. Whatever that means.

MASTRESS

Well, this is all FUBAR.

JESTER

Yes. We all agree on these things.

PREACH

Sorry you ended up here, Mastress. We’ve been working on an escape, but everything is pointing to being completely hosed.

JESTER

We had just run through the Kübler-Ross, before you got here, but we could do it again, if you are interested?

MASTRESS

No. That’s OK. I took A.P. Psych II. Apparently it is BS.

JESTER

Oh. What do you mean?

MASTRESS

It’s all placebo. Just something that happens as a result of hormones, but you still end up screaming and shitting and what not.

PREACH

F. All of that therapeutic catharsis. Wasted.

MASTRESS

Yeah, my Mom was a grief counselor for several years. According to her, nothing really prepares anyone for death. It is a horrifying and spiritually crippling process bereft of dignity or function.

JESTER

Well, the good news is that the sniper out there is Dr. Q, so at least it will all be over quickly.

MASTRESS

Dr. Q?

PREACH

Yeah.

MASTRESS

For reals?

JESTER

Yes, he hacked our AR a little while ago. He’s super scary.

MASTRESS

What are the odds?

PREACH

You know him.

MASTRESS

Yeah. We dated a while ago.

PREACH

For reals!?

MASTRESS

Yeah. In college. It was…strange.

JESTER

Well, call him!

PREACH

Yeah, call him!

JESTER

Yes! Call him and plead for our miserable lives!

MASTRESS

It has been years. He probably won’t even remember me.

PREACH

Please!?

JESTER

Pretty please!?

MASTRESS

Oh, all right, give me that.

(The Mastress picks up her empty rifle and then connects using Jesters phone and, as before, Dr. Q appears in the middle of the barn, alarming the men into pointing their useless weapons at him.)

DR. Q

I am still JUST a hologram, guys.

                                                                        (Preacher and Jester relax somewhat.)

MASTRESS

Hey.

DR. Q

Hey...  you.

MASTRESS

What’s new?

DR. Q

I’m sorry. Do I know you?

MASTRESS

Oh sure, the gear. It’s Martha.

DR. Q

Who?

MASTRESS

The Mastress.

DR. Q

Oh. Oh. I see. Well. Hello. How are you?

MASTRESS

Oh. You know. OK.

DR. Q

Oh. Good. That’s good.

MASTRESS

You?

DR. Q

Oh. OK I guess. You know. Pizza sandwich. The usual.

MASTRESS

Did you really get a lobotomy?

DR. Q

Yeah. Yeah I did. Right in the brain.

MASTRESS

And how is that going?

DR. Q

Good, I guess. Can’t really complain. Wouldn’t really recommend it to friends, either. It’s a personal choice. What about you? You ever finish your dissertation?

MASTRESS

Still working on it. Final chapters. Waiting to get the drafts back.

DR. Q

Yeah.

MASTRESS

Yeah, you know. “The average doctoral candidate takes up to seven years to complete their dissertation”

DR. Q

Sure.

MASTRESS

Yeah. OK. Well, listen, we were just wondering if you could not kill us?

DR. Q

Oh?

MASTRESS

Yeah. You know, we like living. Quite a bit. And we were just hoping that you could just… you know. Not pwn us in our sandy vaginas?

DR. Q

Oh dear. You know I am three from beating the record?

MASTRESS

Really?

DR. Q

For reals! That communist executioner I always told you about.

MASTRESS

Right! Blumpkin… or something.

DR. Q

No, a blumpkin is a sexual act. Vasili Blokin. Yes.

MASTRESS

So what was his record again?

DR. Q

7,305

MASTRESS

Really!

DR. Q

Right!?

MASTRESS

You HAVE been busy!

DR. Q

I know!

MASTRESS

Man. So you have?

DR. Q

7,303

MASTRESS

That is so great. I am so glad you found something you are good at.

DR. Q

My life was so purposeless until I started really focusing in on killing a lot of people.

MASTRESS

Well… good on you.

DR. Q

Thanks.

MASTRESS

Still, I mean… there are seven billion people out there, all just asking to get PWNed? So… I mean… we’re still wondering if you wouldn’t mind letting us live? We want to live?

DR. Q

 Well… I’ll think about it.

MASTRESS

OK. Thanks.

DR. Q

Sure.

MASTRESS

OK. Well… good chatting.

(The Mastress hangs up and breathes a sigh of relief.)

MASTRESS

Awkward!!!

JESTER

I don’t know how that went.

PREACH

No. I don’t know what happened there.

JESTER

Did that go well?

MASTRESS

I don’t know. He seems very different.

PREACH

Sure.

JESTER

Well.

MASTRESS

Yeah.

JESTER

Well listen, I think we should try to get out of here. While he may be grasped with indecision.

PREACH

Yeah, that makes sense.

JESTER

But… ah. In the event that didn’t work, I was thinking we could leave messages.

PREACH

Like… death messages?

JESTER

Yeah. You know. Just in case.

PREACH

Sure.

JESTER

Preach, you want to go first?

PREACH

Sure.

(Jester hands Preacher his phone.)

PREACH

Where is your uploader?

(Jester helps Preacher navigate.)

JESTER

There, it’s recording.

PREACH

OK. Good uh. Hey! Out there in the interwebs! Just wanted to say that it is probably pretty likely I will not be surviving much longer past this post, so I just wanted to send a shout out to my FB friends and family. Want to send a special thanks to The Church of Q and its Q-Lords for taking me in. Like to give a solid FU to the military and their leadership for getting us into this mess… thanks President For Life Obama! JK. Love you, Barry. Uh… and I guess I just want to send a prayer up to that feathered snake god in the sky, Quetzoquaddle; please watch over myself and my friends as we journey into the unknown and unforeseeable. Please give you divine and serpentine mercy unto us, and smite our enemies. Amen. So mote it be. Uh. That’s it I guess. Don’t do drugs, kids!

(Preacher ends his recording and hands the phone to Jester.)

JESTER

Mastress?

MASTRESS

Sure. I want to send a video mail?

(Jester punches up the correct format. )

MASTRESS

Hey! Hey there, I hope this is recording. I don’t have a lot of time, and I don’t know what is going to happen after this, but if things go bad I just wanted to send you a message to let you know that I love you, and a miss you, and I hope that things are going great for you. Listen, I know that you have always looked up to me and listened to me, and I am so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, but I just want to make sure that you don’t join the army. No matter what you do, DO NOT… join the army. They are going to tell you that you are making a difference and making a better world, but it is all just a lie to get you to kill people and protect their interests. It will only get you killed and others killed, and you are better than that. So. Do good. Make good choices. I love you.

(The Mastress hands Jester his phone back. He types a few characters. )

PREACH

You recording anything?

JESTER

I updated by status to “Pwned in Kyrgyzstan.”

PREACH

That is it?

JESTER

Yeah. It is fine. Pregnant with irony, perhaps.

PREACH

OK. Well, I have a plan.

JESTER

Yeah?

PREACH

I am going to try to camouflage myself with this horse blanket and claim to be a sheep.

(Jester and The Mastress share a look.)

PREACH

It sounds crazy, but it just might work.

JESTER

Well… sure.

(The Preacher puts on the horse blanket and begins to baa loudly.)

PREACH

Good luck dude and chickface. BAAAAA!!!

(The Preacher crawls out of the barn, and soon his baaaing stops.)

JESTER

Did he make it?

MASTRESS

I have my doubts.

JESTER

Well… what now?

MASTRESS

Look, I think that I should go, and you should go out the other door. Dr. Q will be distracted by my presence, and that might give you enough time to escape.

JESTER

That doesn’t make sense.

MASTRESS

It makes total sense.

JESTER

No, wait, listen, come over here and look at the tree line.

(Jester leads The Mastress DSR and they look out the other door.)

JESTER

If you can make it to the tree line, you will be OK. I think I may even see a jeep.

MASTRESS

I can’t see…

JESTER

Look hard.

(As The Mastress peer out the door, Jester attempt to knock her unconscious by hitting her with his knife handle.)

MASTRESS

OW! WTF! Are you doing!?

JESTER

OH! Oh no! I’m SO sorry!

MASTRESS

What were you thinking!

JESTER

I was going to try to knock you out and then draw him away!

MASTRESS

Have you ever knocked anyone out before!?

JESTER

No! NO! I’ve only seen it done in the movies!

MASTRESS

You NWB! That never works! If you ever get knocked unconscious you have a concussion! Either you go into a coma and die, or you only are knocked out for a few seconds! Read it in a cracked article…

JESTER

I’m sorry! I just… I just didn’t want to let you die

MASTRESS

That’s sweet. You’re a very sweet idiot.

JESTER

Thanks. You’re a pretty badass chickface.

MASTRESS

Thanks. Listen, we can both bolt for the tree line. We’ll go together.

JESTER

Yeah?

MASTRESS

Yes.  

JESTER

So, even if we die it will be all Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid?

MASTRESS

Yeah. And there will be a freeze frame and they will make memes with it.

JESTER

Superawesome.

MASTRESS

OK. Let’s get out of here, Jester.

(They both flee from the barn, empty weapons brandished high. There is a very long pause and then Dr. Q enters for real. There must be a difference between how he has appeared before and now to indicate that he is real. Dr. Q peers around the barn and then we see him operate his phone.)

DR. Q

Hey. Hi. It’s Q. Yeah. Yeah, Dr. Q. Yeah. Well, I didn’t kill you, so I thought we could… get coffee… or see a movie… or… dry hand jobs or something, but you’re not here anymore. Apparently. Oh. You escaped. Yeah. No. I was just coming down. From my position.

(As Dr. Q talks, The Mastress walks up from behind.)

Yes. Thanks.  So… that’s a negative on the hand jobs? I see. I see. DRY hand jobs? OK. Well. Uh. I’ll see you around.

(There is a snap, and The Mastress shoots Dr. Q in the back with a ballistic knife.)

                                                                         

DR. Q

Oh! Oh… you PWNed me… you done… pwned…

(Dr. Q dies. The Mastress removes the knife and crouches downstage of Dr. Q. We hear a zip, and a horrible noise, and The Mastress places something unseen into her bag of dicks.)

MASTRESS

7,306. Sorry, doctor. But they don’t call me The Mastress for funsies.

                                                                        (The Mastress exits.)

THE END

 (As Dr. Q talks, The Mastress walks up from behind.)

Yes. Thanks.  So… that’s a negative on the hand jobs? I see. I see. DRY hand jobs? OK. Well. Uh. I’ll see you around.

(There is a snap, and The Mastress shoots Dr. Q in the back with a ballistic knife.)

                                                                         

DR. Q

Oh! Oh… you PWNed me… you done… pwned…

(Dr. Q dies. The Mastress removes the knife and crouches downstage of Dr. Q. We hear a zip, and a horrible noise, and The Mastress places something unseen into her bag of dicks.)

MASTRESS

7,306. Sorry, doctor. But they don’t call me The Mastress for funsies.

                                                                        (The Mastress exits.)

THE END