Space Travel

A woman, in a space suit, floats about the stage. She also is projected on the scrim behind her.

Woman : Oh, hello Earth. I'm Amanda. I'm transmitting this to you from thousands of miles away in space.

She pauses for effect.

Woman : Space. The final frontier. Right? Ha. Ha. Ha.

Very unfunny.

Woman : This will be my final video blog, or, vlog, to you. If this is the first time you've watched, I've been keeping these daily and sometimes weekly videos for you to watch. I talk about life, what's it like in space, and all of my exboyfriends back on the ground. Today I'd like to talk about James Pumpernickel Abbott. He lives at 3555 Avantar St in Ohio, Illinois. His phone number is 800-866-2449. He has an 800 number because he gives his phone number out to everyone he meets and thinks more people will call him. More women will call him if it's free. I don't know how this is working for him, as I am in space. Which is why I'm floating. Right now.

Pause.

Woman : On my twenty third birthday, Jimmy, the name he goes by, took me to a pizza place. I don't like pizza. I had spaghetti. They made pretty good spaghetti. The moment we got there, the hostess was giving Jimmy a strange look. I thought maybe she was eyeing him up, so I held his hand tighter and wrapped myself in his arms. I was younger and more insecure. We sat, ordered, and drank our water. The cups were pizza place red plastic. The tables had old pizza place advertisements like you would expect to see. The jukebox played Michael Bolton.

She hums "When a Man Loves A Woman" quietly to herself.

Woman : Halfway through dinner, the hostess walks up to us and says, "Jimmy?" Jimmy cocks his head to the side and says, "Yes?" "I know you," she says, "I'm Marissa. We met last night, at the bowling alley." "Marissa," he pauses. "Yes. How are you?" "I'm fine." "Good." Jimmy turns back to me. Marissa presses on, "I thought you had to go to war today?" "Oh, yeah. It was cancelled," Jimmy replies. This is when my dinner stopped. I left.

Pause.

Woman : And he has a small wiener. I mentioned before that this would be the last vlog for me. You see. I am out of thruster power. I am destined to float in space now. Until I run out oxygen and die. Actually. I don't even know how I got here. I sort of just happened. I saw a sign that said free pogs and followed it. And now I'm in space with video camera equipment. For all I know this could be a tv show within a tv show. When I turn off the camera can you see me. Anyway. This vlog will automatically post itself once I die. Isn't techonology great? Now, I don't want to hear any of those stupid jokes about woman drivers. Oh. I'm out of oxygen now and I'm going to die.

She carefully, but awkwardly lays on the floor. She lets out a deep sigh.