QFC Clint - final performance for Freehold class


Here is the script I used for my piece in my Solo Performance class this week, through Freehold and taught by the amazing Matt Smith.  

After my first cut at this, Matt said it was like poetry -- maybe cowboy poetry or beat poetry, I forget what he said but it was so empowering.  That led me to continue to develop the piece to where it was this week.  

Maybe I will keep working on it and put it on stage or online somewhere soon. I kept the stage directions.  The highlighted parts are parts that I would say in my own voice or in a third person's voice, rather than the characters voice (aside from the intro, and the last sentence, which are not highlighted, but are in "my" voice. 


QFC Clint: a meditation on daily life in 2020 
By Patrick Hogan 

Everything’s a challenge today, right?

A simple boring goofy thing like going to the grocery store feels like a life-threatening situation, right?

We have to put on some kind of like brave face just to go out of the house.

Well, sometimes it feels like that anyway.

Here’s my brave face.

I call him, QFC Clint.

 

[put on bandana and hat]

I ride down there

I mask up

[put on mask]

I am not afraid

I am not afraid

[lower mask]

You get the idea

 

I approach the corral

I ask the cowpoke

Are these the wild ones or are these the tame ones

He says what

I say have these been wiped down

No, try those over there, he says

I flinch

I had already put a hand on one

Panic

I find a wipe

I wipe

My hands are clean the cart is clean

I wipe it some more, just in case

 

I set my jaw, saddle up, and roll on in

I stride down the aisle

Arrows are pointing everywhere on the floor

I can go forward but I can’t go back

I need hotdogs and pita chips?  What now?

I’ll have to circle around

 

I settle into a groove

Cheeses, fruits, potatoes

Baby Spring Mix

Keeping my distance

Don’t get too close

What’s that over there?

Did I hear a cough?

This cowpoke’s got no mask

He’s coughing on the eggs

Is it a dry cough?  That’s good right?

Or is it a wet cough.  That’s bad.

I don’t need no eggs today

 

Vegetable aisle

Two young women, shopping together

They’re chatting. They’re happy.  They’re perusing the vegetables.

They’re enjoying the task

Where’d you get those cherries, one of them pipes up

Who me?  It’s a break in the distancing.

I look down at the cherries in my cart

I look to the left

I look to the right

I look at the two shoppers

Over yonder, I point, right next to those cantaloupes

Thank you!  They’re still excited

They wheel around the banana island and follow the arrows toward the cherries

It’s a good deed, a connection

 

Round the corner into another box canyon

Toilet paper, lots of it

There’s no shortage, I say behind my mask

It’s bull

They have it.  It’s here

As I look and wonder, another cowpoke over here asks

Do you see any single rolls, I only need one

It’s another break in the distancing.

No.  They only have these packs of 24

He shakes his head

I know what you mean, pardner

We bond

Who buys those

I don’t know

We have each other’s trust

We talk about the state of the world

Another connection, but it’s fleeting

As we part, he says we’ll get through this

I think, unless we don’t

 

It’s time for whisky, for booze – gin, rum, tequila, whatever they got

It’s locked in a case, it’s valuable, it requires asking for help,

Another break in the distancing

I get one of the checkers, lead the way, they say, lead the way

Vulnerability crosses my mind as we approach the booze.

Better not buy too much, they’ll think I’m a drunk

Cazadores, I say

 

The elk on the Cazadores bottle stares at me.

I’m a stag, he says

Oh, sorry,

I was inspired by José María Bañuelos, the grandfather of the founder of the company, seeing wild deer running through his agave fields

Sorry, I didn’t know

I’ve got your number

I have been selling like crazy

A lot of people don’t have to drive anywhere anymore

And they have a lot of stress

So they just say eff it, let’s drink tequila

I see you

You’ll be back

 

Anything else, sir, says the clerk

I’m wrested from my reverie

That’ll do it.

 

I hit the checkout line

The checker waves me over

My items roll down the belt and get put into bags

The bags go in the cart

I touch the machine as I swipe my card to pay

Pump pump pump, wring wring wring

Keep the receipt.

I’m bagged up, loaded up, and moving on out

I ask myself

Do I feel lucky?

Well,

Do I?

 

So that’s my meditation on daily life in 2020.

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