A One-Act Play for Dorothea Laskyís Voice

Act One

A woman is lying on her bed, talking on the phone. She is lying in a very determined way, as if there are wrong ways to lie and right ways to lie and she is aggressively lying in the right way. The woman is Dorothea Lasky. But her features are slightly blurred a la many of the more sultry Madonna music videos from the mid 1990ís. The audience intuitively realizes the woman is Dorothea Lasky but only Dorothea Laskyís voice can be seen.   


Woman [after a long drawn out breath]:

He was[after a cuteg drawn out breath]:but nothing

endedHe was     cutebut nothingendeduphea Lasky byt okhdvdzgrgfhappening.


I know.
I know.

I know.

Actually            noó ow. endedout breath]:butnotnI do Dorothea labvxfghsrfszvskyknow.



No beardfter a long drawn out breor anythingoth I doxdbgfxxfgbn up but  but

he g draw out birthwasnything I tly totally


sporting

a soul   patch!

Soulpate the soundfgadfvzdfd of mild laughter that soondtch!

Soulpat soulsech! atch!yfggfgbinSoulablflfypatportingdfgfxxfdgbxddffs know. haddch

ch

ch

ch!



Off-stage the sound of mild laughter that soon turns uproarious, abrasive, strange, alienating. The woman gets up from the bed and slowly crawls toward the audience, her crawling style reminiscent of whatever the opposite of a crab will be circa the year 2113. The laughter continues unabated. A simple melody is heard, one played upon a flute.    


Curtain

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Jeff Alessandrelli is the author of the recently published collection This Last Time Will Be The First (Burnside Review Press, 2014), as well as four chapbooks, including Donít Let Me Forget To Feed The Sharks (Poor Claudia, 2012). His work has recently appeared/is forthcoming in Forklift, Ohio, Pleiades, iO: A Journal of New American Poetry, Coconut and Boston Review. He loves Dorothea Laskyís poetry.