Seven (9/20/2009)
7. (9/20/2009)
chester takes the escalator.
A little boy, Chester, walks out on stage.
He places his hand above him at a roughly forty-five degree angle…
as if on the railing of an escalator.
He watches his feet to make sure they don’t catch.
He steps on.
He looks up.
Enter Carol, a woman deep inside of his imagination.
She looks up to.
CAROL: In nine days I will be turning eleven years old.
Eleven years old, of course, as we all know, is a formative age for a child to be growing up in the united states of america.
There are birthday parties.
Bar mitzvahs.
Girls are beginning to grow breasts.
Boys are beginning to make fun of my tennis shoes.
My cowlick.
My braces.
There will be erections during gym class.
There will be sleepover night frights.
I will run home in my onesie in the middle of the night from a friends house because of a particularly trying nightmare.
I will be made fun of for wearing a onesie.
I’m too old for a onesie they say.
I’m wearing it ironically I will say.
They won’t know what ironically means.
I won’t either.
I will be picked last for kickball.
Dodgeball.
Whiffleball.
Football. Basketball.
Soccer.
I will be picked first for mathletes.
Quiz-bowl.
Dungeons and dragons.
Class treasurer.
Yes.
In nine days, I will be turning eleven years old.
But for now-
I’m going to ride this escalator.
Chester looks down.
His shoelace is untied.
He kneels to tie it.
Enter Franklyn.
Franklyn lives even deeper in Chesters mind.
He’s darker.
FRANKLYN: In nine days I will be eleven years old.
There is an entire town of people inside of my head.
They all want to talk.
They all find time to.
When I’m waiting.
When I’ve stopped somewhere long enough to think.
Or to stop thining.
I hum the theme from gilligan’s island to keep them out.
But when I forget to do that for long enough.
That’s when they come out and talk.
Chester opens his mouth.
As if in a yawn.
As he does it:
“Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale…”
It continues as Franklyn tries to speak.
FRANKLYN: I don’t even really like the show all that much.
Franklyn is silenced.
Chester closes his mouth.
Enter Harold.
Harold is an older man.
Most likely in his early seventies.
He is innocence in that sad quiet old-man kind of way.
HAROLD: In nine days I will be eleven years old.
A rumor began to surface that there are no escalators in the state of Wyoming.
What a sad state to live in.
A state with no elevation.
No escalation.
No desire to be on steps, but without the necessary stepping up.
Escalators offer a comforting idea of movement.
Idea of exercise without the actual physical effort.
I will ride escalators for life.
I remember the first escalator ride I ever took.
It was a short one.
In an airport.
But the length of an escalator ride does not make it more or less important.
It was only five steps.
Five or six.
It’s hard to count steps on an escalator because they travel up and down and so it can be hard to count.
Escalators always remind me of malls because most malls have escalators
But not malls in Wyoming.
There are no escalators in Wyoming.
Chester reaches the top of the escalator.
CHESTER: In nine days I will be eleven years old.
My name is Chester.
It’s a small name.
A name I enjoy to say outloud to myself.
Chester.
There are some very important letters in that name.
C.
H.
E.
S.
T.
E.
R.
Chester.
There is no one else on this planet like me.
My name is Chester and I am turning eleven in nine days.
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