Ocean
by
Lawrence Peters
©2003
Exclusive Rights Worldwide
are Held by the Author
Perpetually
For Ted
SCENE 1
A field just off a bay. It is about 2am. Two men can be seen. Both are middle-aged, heavy set. One holds a shovel, and is prodding the ground with it.
FRANK
Smell that?
SONNY
What?
Frank
That. Only one place smells like that.
SONNY
The ocean?
Frank
It’s not the ocean, it’s a bay.
SONNY
Whatever.
FRANK
No, not ‘whatever.’ It’s Jamaica Bay. It heads out to the ocean.
SONNY
Thanks for the geography lesson. Bay, ocean, whatever.
FRANK
Want a history one too?
SONNY
What I want, Frank, is for you to finish digging the fucking hole, so can bury this ex-asshole, and get the fuck outta here.
FRANK
Sonny?
SONNY
What?
Frank
Know where you are?
Sonny
No.
FRANK
This is Canarsie. The Canarsie Indians were the ones that sold Manhattan to Peter Styvesant, the Dutchman, way back when.
SONNY
Jesus Christ.
FRANK
Not that far back.
SONNY
Why are we here, Frank? In Canarsie. Burying this stiff. Shit, alla people we killed, I can’t remember the last time we buried someone.
FRANK
A long time.
SONNY
A long time. So why here, why now?
FRANK
I’m from Canarsie.
SONNY
No shit?
FRANK
No shit.
SONNY
That’s right. I knew you are from Brooklyn, though.
FRANK
I’m from Canarsie.
SONNY
You gonna keep digging?
FRANK
Yeah.
SONNY
So why here then?
FRANK
This is where I started. Where it all started for me. This place made me what I am.
SONNY
This place? This place is like the freaking country. Except you can smell the ocean.
FRANK
Bay.
SONNY
Bay. But ok. Why the dirt nap for Mr. ‘I’ll pay you back Tuesday, honest’?
FRANK
I buried my first here 25 years ago.
SONNY
Same place?
FRANK
Same place. Even better.
SONNY
Better? No.
FRANK
Yes.
SONNY
No. Same spot?
FRANK
Same spot.
SONNY
Ok, since tonight you’d rather talk than dig, I guess you’re gonna tell me why.
FRANK
Why?
SONNY
Why.
FRANK
Just thought it would be something to do.
SONNY
How long we know each other?
FRANK
Long time.
SONNY
Long time. So why the bullshit?
FRANK
What bullshit?
SONNY
‘Something to do.’ This is business, not ‘something to do.’
FRANK
Maybe it’s a little of both.
SONNY
Must be the ocean air. You lost me.
FRANK
Bay.
SONNY
Bay.
FRANK
Ok, 25 years. Lots of memories. Lots of work. Lots of good meals. Lot’s of laughs.
SONNY
Meals?
FRANK
Yeah, meals.
SONNY
Great.
FRANK
Great?
SONNY
Hear that rumble? That wasn’t the freaking ocean, that was my stomach. All this talking and no digging’s got me hungry.
FRANK
Bay.
SONNY
Bay. Ocean. Keep fucking digging, I’m starving.
FRANK
You weren’t starving the other night after pounding down three helpings of Consuela’s linguini.
SONNY
It was good.
FRANK
It was good.
SONNY
(looks in hole)
You’re gonna hit freaking China you keep digging. This guy’s a skinny; why the Grand Canyon?
FRANK
So here I am, back in Canarsie. Digging a hole, like 30 years ago. And I’m thinking.
SONNY
Thinking…
FRANK
About the Good, the bad, and the ugly.
SONNY
The movie?
FRANK
Not the fucking movie! My fucking life.
SONNY
Whoa, Digger Jones, cool your jets. I was just asking, ok?
FRANK
Fuck I think I hit it!
SONNY
Hit it? Hit what?
FRANK
The first one.
SONNY
The first one?
FRANK
The first one.
SONNY
How do you know?
FRANK
I left a money belt on him just in case.
SONNY
Serious?
FRANK
Dead serious.
SONNY
How much?
FRANK
Enough.
SONNY
Enough?
FRANK
Enough to get me out of any problem I might have.
SONNY
But wouldn’t it rot? The money?
FRANK
Gold don’t rot.
SONNY
Gold?
FRANK
Gold.
SONNY
You must be shitting me.
FRANK
I shit thee not.
SONNY
So you gonna toss Skinny on top?
FRANK
Yeah, one less problem, one to go.
SONNY
Frank.
FRANK
Yeah?
SONNY
Can I see it?
FRANK
What? The first one?
SONNY
No. The gold.
FRANK
The gold?
SONNY
The gold. Not that I don’t believe you or anything….
FRANK
You want to look, you hop in.
SONNY
Ummmm.
FRANK
Hey, don’t bother.
SONNY
No, this I gotta see.
Frank
(Climbs out of hole)
SONNY
(jumps in hole)
Son of a bitch. You weren’t shitting me.
FRANK
Sure I am.
SONNY
What?
Who’d bury real gold on a stiff. In Canarsie. On Jamaica Bay. That was just my way of dealing with a problem.
SONNY
Problem?
FRANK
Problem. If the news said gold, I knew it was my body. Plus it’s given me a way of dealing with another problem.
SONNY
Another problem?
FRANK
You.
SONNY
Me?
FRANK
You.
SONNY
A problem? The ocean must be affecting your brain or something.
FRANK
(Smacks Sonny in head with the shovel)
It’s a bay, a bay you fucking idiot.
FRANK
My problem was who the hell else knows where the bodies are buried. And that was you. 3 helpings of linguini. I thought for a second I might have to dig the freaking Grand Canyon. 40 years. A lot of meals. A lot of laughs. And a lot of bodies, Sonny. You were right. I missed the ocean… God Damn it!
The End