4 Nov


Every once in a while there appears a man who does not have much to say. Yet he influences our opinion, our outlook, or possibly our lives.

This is a play about such a man.




SET:  One large fake rock, flat on the bottom but with a noticeable slant on the top. One side of the rock has small water waves painted on it. The other side is plain rock.

One sizeable bush with a wide base to ensure it will not tip.

One rubber fish.


Play opens to silence.

Me: (Standing stage left on the fake rock. Costume: Fishing waders, belt with worm container and a wading staff attached, fishing vest with a variety of pockets and a few fishing accoutrements dangling here or there. I am looking through my bifocals while attempting to attach a new hook to the terminal end of my line.)

“Damn number 10 hooks! They need to make the eyelets larger.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (Attempting to get the fish hook in focus keep changing my line of sight between the distance and close up parts of my bifocals. I get dizzy, fall off the rock and land in the imaginary water.)

“Son-of-a-bitch! Damn bifocals sure screw things up.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (Walking out of stream while shaking my arms and head to rid them of water)

“That was pretty stupid – – – Waldo.”

Mime: (Silence)

(A stage hand appears and moves the rock from the imaginary stream to the imaginary shore. While doing this he makes it obvious that the rock has two sides. He does this by putting the stream side towards the audience and then comes around to the front to see if he has it correctly placed. Noticing he has not, he turns the rock around.)

Me: (Watching and waiting patiently for the stage hand. I take off my fishing vest, unbuckle my belt that holds the worm container, slide my waders down below my ass and then sit on the rock on the shoreline.)

“I’ll never get these wet son-of-a-bitching things off.” (while tugging and pulling at the boot section of the waders)

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (Turning my waders upside down and shaking them to empty out the water)

“Maybe I better hang them upside down on a bush for a few minutes.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me:  (I hang my waders upside down on a bush and sit on the imaginary rock to finish tying the hook to my line. I then smoke an E-cigarette.)

“I ain’t gonna catch any fish this way.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (I retrieve my waders from the bush, sit on the rock, struggle to put the waders on my feet, stand up, pull them up the rest of the way, pick up my belt with the worm container and the wading staff on it. The wading staff falls to the floor – – – without me noticing. I put the belt on, then my vest. I turn my back to the bush)

“These waders better warm up pretty soon or I’m gonna piss right in them.”

Mime: (Silence)

(The stage hand picks up the bush and moves it to center stage. He then picks up the rock and disappears from the stage with it.)

Me: (I watch the stage hand and patiently wait for him to finish. I walk aimlessly around the stage and the bush several times)

“There better not be anybody fishing in the next hole.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (Stopping and looking around)

“Great, I have the hole all to myself.”

Mime: (Silence)

(The stagehand reappears and brings the rock with him. He places it on the stage and turns it several times to ensure he has the stream side facing the audience)

Me: (I take a rubber worm from my worm container and impale it on the hook. I hold the pole up to allow the audience to see the worm dangling quite mercilessly. I cast my worm laden hook delicately beside the rock.)

“Ah – – – right in the sweet spot.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (While my head and eyes follow the bait downstream I speak in a stage whisper.)

“C’mon you little bastards – – – bite! I know you’re in there.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (Retrieving my line and casting again)

“Maybe I need more weight on the line.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (Getting a split-shot out of my vest and biting it so it will stay on the line)

“That should get me down to where the fish are.”

Mime: (Silence)

(Stage hand appears and clumsily attaches a rubber fish to my hook)

Me: (After patiently watching the stage hand for quite some time and watching him walk off the sage – – – I set the hook)

“Now you little son-of-a-bitch, now I’ve got you where I want you.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (Reeling the rubber fish in)

“Nice color. I bet you will taste good.”

Mime: (Silence)

Me: (Walking off stage)

“Great day. Grand time on the stream.”

Mime: (Silence)

(The stage hand walks onto the stage while looking behind to ensure I have departed. He picks up the rock with one hand and the bush with the other. He walks over to the mime and says – – – )

“You’re fired.”

Mime: (Mimicking weeping and sadness for some time, then looks the stagehand in the eyes and says)

“Screw you.”


Don’t ask me why but I © it anyway.

I just hate being the supporting actor.


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