Pilot Season

AT RISE:

A WOMAN wheels around the stage on a rolly-chair. Her look is pensive.

WOMAN:
Sometimes I feel like I'm being introduced to the world every day for the first time. And it gets me anxious, because I'm never sure if new viewers will catch on to the patchwork quilt of quirks, mannerisms and deep-rooted emotional problems that make me who I am within a reasonable space of five to ten minutes. And once I've lost these metaphorical viewers, I'm worried they'll never tune back in, forcing me to toil in obscurity until my premature cancellation. So I constantly feel this pressure to find some kind of hyper-efficent method of characterization that'll get me noticed, remembered, and possibly adored.

She spins in place on the chair.

WOMAN:
And that's why man invented rolly-chairs.

She zips offstage, laughing.

BLACKOUT. END PLAY.