The Blank Page.
by Joe Foster.

*NOTE: Italics indicate stage directions. I am not Henrik Ibsen obsessed with them, but due to the nature of the story, I feel the detail is necessary to better understand what is in fact going on.

INT: Inside a dingy apartment a man sits in front of a computer, opened to a word processor document that reads: "Untitled: A Novel By Henry Lewis. Chapter One;" then is completely blank.

Henry stares at the blank page.
HENRY: hmmmm
Henry begins writing.
NARRATOR: Once upon a time...
HENRY: (sighs) What is this a freaking fairy tale?
Henry deletes what he has written.

NARRATOR: It was a bleak - gloomy evening, rain tepidly poured down from the heavens. An elderly man stood, forlornly absorbing the downpour...
HENRY: No - wait
NARRATOR: A young boy frolicked in the rain, his golden locks gleaming like (pause)
HENRY: Dammit
Henry deletes what he has written.

NARRATOR: Two men stood in a dark hallway, awkwardly surveying one another. There they stood... awkwardly... it was all very awkward.
MAN1: Boy, this sure is awkward.
MAN2: Yes, very awkward indeed. Say, have you ever noticed how awkward the word awkward is?
NARRATOR: the second man inquired. Then suddenly, the entire universe collapsed in on itself. The end.
Henry again deletes what he has written.

NARRATOR: Charlie was a lonely chap. It had been eight long years, since he had last known the pleasures of a woman.
CHARLIE: EIGHT YEARS!? Come on man, cut me a break!
HENRY: Fine.
NARRATOR: It had been far too long, since Charlie had last known the pleasures of a woman - not since the accident, in which he lost the use of both arms.
CHARLIE: No, not my arms!
HENRY: Quiet you. It will be your legs next, if you don't stop interrupting me. Damn fictional characters.
NARRATOR: The armless Charlie, had not felt companionship in far too long, he wreaked of desperation and booze.
CHARLIE: I'm lonely, I'm pathetic, I think they get it - do you really have to belabor this point?
NARRATOR: Unfortunately for Charlie, he had recently and inexplicably been struck mute.
Charlie attempts to protest, but cannot speak.
HENRY: That's better.
NARRATOR: Tonight, all of Charlie's problems were to dissipate. Susie, a local farmer's daughter had agreed to come home with him. As she stood in the moonlight, her large muscles shown; they were well toned from... bench-pressing cattle and performing other farmly... err farmish... err hard-man related activities. Susie approached Charlie's bed cautiously.
SUSIE: Want to feel my biceps?
NARRATOR: She asked, flirtatiously.
Charlie shakes his head, furiously attempting to squirm away.
NARRATOR: Oh yes baby, he would have said, had he still the power of speech. Susie reached to remove her square plaid dress...
The phone rings interrupting the segment

HENRY: Hello? Oh, hi. Yes, it's coming along just fine. No - no problems at all, the words are just flowing right out of me. What's that? No sir. Absolutely no sexual content involving manly-farm girls, I know how much you didn't like that... the last couple times. Yes, thank you sir, bye.
Henry sighs and erases what he has written.

NARRATOR: So a guy walks into a bar - Ouch! Ha-ha.
Henry swings around in his chair, before starting over.
HENRY: I'VE GOT IT!
NARRATOR: Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail...
ISHMAEL: Pssst.... Hey buddy, this is uh... Moby Dick.
HENRY: No it isn't.
Ishmael nods that it is; Henry runs to his bookshelf and flips quickly through 'Moby Dick', comes back grumbling again forced to face the blank page.

HENRY: Hmmm, I know what the kids will like!
NARRATOR: Larry Porter, a wizard, who enjoyed UFC fighting, drinking straight whiskey, and listening to Lady Gaga was trolling internet forums on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Little did Harry Potter, I mean - Larry Porter, know he was about to be ambushed by... (pauses to think)
NARRATOR: ambushed by a blue, avatar-like, sparkling vampire - who was secretly a gay cowboy. And also a ninja; everybody loves ninjas.
BLUE-COWBOY-NINJA-VAMPIRE: My name is Kanye East and I am the greatest warrior of all time. OF ALL TIME. We must kung fu fight.
LARRY PORTER: Yes, let us, kung fu fight.
(FIGHT ENSUES OR WHATEVER, DOESN'T REALLY MATTER)
Henry shakes his head and deletes the story.

NARRATOR: Henry sipped his coffee nervously, he was on the verge of tears, despite what tacit promises his shampoo and conditioner had made. Henry was in a battle for his life, or at least his sanity. His adversary was none other than the blank page itself - his witty musings and tight prose, the only weapons that could save him now. The prospect of failure haunted him even more than the impending release of yet another Twilight movie. This was Henry's last stand, his Troy. His entire life hinged on this paragraph, this very word standing for so much. The only barrier keeping Henry from a complete breakdown, that would likely end with him under a bridge somewhere, riddled with amphetamines and shame. It was a strange choice writing about his inability to write. They would probably say it was crazy, he was crazy. Hell, maybe it is crazy, but my god - it will be poetic.
Henry briefly contemplates erasing what he has written, then stops.
NARRATOR: Chapter Two.

FIN.