Randomized Writing Assignment


The stresses of life are piling up, and it seems to have stunted my writing time. However, I attended a play-writing workshop in which we were to write five lists in different categories, write two memories of our life, put them all together, and create a writing scene.

There may be moments you’ll be thinking: …why? I assure you, I had to work with what I had. And considering I had 5 minutes, I think it turned out alright.

It was randomized, it was timed, so it is here.


Bench. Sturdy, wooden, and spotted in white. Warped boards due to constant rain, twisting more every day. Still, it stays strong. 

It is raining now.

A hunched figure emerges from offstage, wearing a tan trench-coat that falls to their ankles. They have no umbrella, only a rain hat, and an odd assortment of scarves that covers their face. It is hard to make out the shape or gender of the body, as they hide behind layers upon layers of clothing. Sits on bench, seemingly unperturbed by the weather.

Young man bursts from opposing side. His suit, once fine, is damp. His hair is frayed, and he’s limping–due to the gash in his leg. He collapses onto the bench.

The old person regards him passively.

OLD: How are boys and girls different?

YOUNG: (Clutching leg, face of disbelief) What?

OLD: How are boys and girls different?

YOUNG: Ack! (Rocks forward, tightens grip on leg) I have just been in a car accident, my rental is french-kissing a tree, my phone is ruined, my leg is probably broken and–and–(Checks wrist) and I’m half an hour late for an interview I’ve been waiting for for months and you ask that? (Winces) Oh god… It’s like–everything in my life is going to shit. Everything. (Cackling) 10% chance of rain! Swell, just swell.

OLD: Why are boys and girls different?

YOUNG: This is what I get, you know? I’ve been a piece of shit most of my life and just when I try to get out (claps hands) Bam! Here I am! In the rain! Probably bleeding out, and sitting beside some nut-job.

OLD: Why are–

YOUNG: You know, I think if I just didn’t fuck up my water-polo career, I’d be famous by now. I’d be living the fucking dream.

OLD: Why–

YOUNG: Nah, had to skip down with my junkie cousin to experiment with shit he bought from Egypt. (Takes a breath) I’m seein’ spots. (Holds hand out in front of OLD’s face) Does this look a little white to you?

OLD: Why are boys–

YOUNG: I feel like no one listens to me sometimes. And it’s like–how could someone as talented as me get screwed like this, eh?

OLD: (Contemplates. Stands in front of YOUNG, back to audience. Opens coat wide.)

YOUNG: (Shrieks) WHAT THE–

OLD: (Bends forward slightly. Closes coat. Exits)

YOUNG: (Holding an umbrella) What… the fuck… was that? Am I…dead? (Beat. Opens umbrella)

Rain stops.


.Who was the old person?

What did they reveal?

Why are boys and girls different?

Did the guy bleed out and die?

The world may never know!


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