Poetry

AT RISE:

Two roomates, ZACK and STEVE.

ZACK:
Haiku battle, go!

STEVE:
Challenge accepted! Begin!

ZACK:
I wear leopard print
My cherry pie is the best
I'm your drunk mother

STEVE:
Samuel L. Jackson
Sitting in a field, alone
Dreams of destruction

ZACK:
If norse myth cycles
Are to be believed at all
Sex with wolves is great

STEVE:
Damn it.

ZACK:
Forfeit?

STEVE:
Never!

ZACK:
Continue, then!

STEVE:
I've no idea
What I am going to say...
Aretha Franklin?

ZACK:
If five-seven-five
Is the sole criteria
This poem is great

STEVE:
Uh....
Sweet googly moogly
Ran out of material
But must keep talking

ZACK:
That was terrible.

STEVE:
That's for history to decide.

ZACK:
I'll show you history.

STEVE:
You can't! It's already happened!

The squabbling is interrupted by the entrance of GEORGE, the third, irate roomate.

GEORGE:
This contest is dumb
Your lives are slipping away
Go clean the bathroom.

He exits.

STEVE:
That was impressive.

ZACK:
Yeah, if this was a play, that would be a great ending.

STEVE:
Definitely.

They stand around for a second, at a loss.

STEVE:
Hey, do you wanna-

BLACKOUT. END PLAY.