A large room, with junk and clutter lying around. It is a basement. JACK sits at an old wooden desk in the middle of the stage.

JACK: (talking to a tape recorder sitting on the desk). So this is where things have led me. Everything that has happened, has lied to this point. I find that hard to believe. It almost doesn�t seem real. The fact that things would be so bad it would lead to things.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a .44 magnum. He sets the gun on the table. He then reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a box of bullets. He sets them next to the gun. He opens the box and dumps the out on the table. He then picks up the gun. One by one, slowly, he puts a bullet into each of the chambers. He then snaps the chamber back into place. An echoing click can be heard. JACK stares at the gun.

JACK: I bought this gun 9 years ago. I never had any intentions of using it. But when I inherited one of those big gun lockers from dad�s death, I figured I might as well have a gun to put in there. Cost a pretty penny though. Figured if I was gonna get one, might as well get a big one. For once I�d have something better than Rob. Everything was always a competition with him. Even though I never felt obliged to compete. He�d come over and brag about this or that. All that stuff he had. Guess it wasn�t enough; had to take the love of my life too. I - -

We hear the noise of a loud machine, a grinding noise. A light comes on stage back left and we see it is a water heater making noise. He gets up and walks over to it, picking up a large pry bar sitting on the ground in front of it.

JACK: (Yelling in a country accent). Goddamn you! You sum bitch!! (He starts hitting the water heater with the pry bar) 19 goddamn years!! Eight hundred dollars in repairs!! And a million hours of lost sleep!!

The noise stops, he calmly walks back to the desk, and sits down. He starts talking again as if everything is normal. He takes the pry bar with him and sets it on the desk.

JACK: (While holding the gun). When he took Sally, my heart was broken. We met way back in grade school. But you already know that. You also know how close bobby and I were. There�s nothing like the bond between brothers. So when he breathed in those car fumes, a part of me died with him. I suppose that�s what this is all about. Not being as strong as other people. I hate this just as much as you do. But you have to think. And that�s what I�ve been doing. If you figure - -

The water heater starts up again. He stops talking and gets an angry expression on his face. He screams and throws the pry bar at the heater, hitting it, and the noise stops. He exaggeratingly shakes his head and turns back around.

JACK: If you figure, everybody dies someday, why does it matter how or when? I mean, bobby got to choose. I suppose people won�t give much fuss about me. Bobby had accomplished so much in his life. State champs in basketball, won all sorts of prizes for growing food and livestock. Got a good education and became a teacher, led a full life.

He sits silently for a moment and puts the gun to his head.

JACK: Why live? What gives my life value? I Haven�t really accomplished much. Do friends and family give life value? Possessions? Bobby had lots of friends, and even more �stuff.� I have very little. Maybe it�s simply potential. What if I sat here while something needed to be done. Maybe by me not doing it, I FORCED someone else to do it. If what they did had value, don�t I get some of that? Maybe � aw hell, look at me, I�m rambling. Sorry �bout that. Heh heh, these situations are the kind that tend to bring out the philosopher in everyone.

He continues to sit there with the gun to his head.

JACK: Bobby had kids. Three of them. He�s got a legacy, a reputation. A survival of his memory, and all the great things about him. Children, they must give value to life. Purpose I suppose. Obviously I never had kids. I�m sure when people tell the story of the great Bobby; someone will chime in and say: �Didn�t he have a brother?� Someone else will say, �Yup.� That�ll be all you here about me. Death �

The water heater spurts again, as if to remind the audience of its presence. JACK doesn�t even bother to look. He lowers the gun and is looking at it while talking.

JACK: Death, I guess, is just a way out. Wish I could say I gave it my all. I never much did like the �permanent solution for temporary problem� line. Sometimes it�s life that is the problem. Sometimes, sunny days turn gray, and your favorite food tastes like dirt. Now I have no real particular desire to die. There�s a lot to take in. It would be nice to sit up on a cloud with all those angels. That�s assuming St. Peter lets me through those pearly gates. That�s just another thing to consider. How bad, how terribly bad are things? In the grand scheme not really I suppose, but that�s not the way the- -

The water heater spurts, he looks at it with an angry expression, and turns it off. He opens his mouth to speak, and it turns on again. He looks at it again, and it turns off. Once again, as he opens his mouth, it turns on. He screams again and throws the chair at it, stopping the noise. He continues to stare at the gun.

JACK: Family, friends, possessions, things, sunny days, rainy days. Valuable, invaluable, potential, lack of potential. Happiness, sadness, I don�t know. I�m at a crossroads here. I should keep going, But WHY? I should give up, but WHY?!!!

Just then, we hear the water heater start up and the lights start to flicker and flash like a strobe light, and the noise of the machine gets louder and louder, until there is a loud BOOM and a bright flash. The lights go out and when they come back on, JACK is gone.



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