fuck your day

Characters: Jane, Monday

Jane is facedown at a table, snoring loudly. Monday enters, looks at her, and leaves again.

(Two minutes elapse)

Monday returns, carrying an uninflated balloon. It proceeds to blow up the balloon until it is just on the verge of bursting. Monday ties the balloon closed, sidles up next to the table, and then pulls a pin out of its pocket.

Jane’s head springs up.

Jane: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Monday: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Monday flails wildly and accidentally pops the balloon, which explodes in Monday’s face.

Monday: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Jane: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH MY GOD YES.
Monday: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?
Jane (beaming sweetly): Sheer cussedness.

Jane pauses to think.

Jane: Also you were about to pop a balloon in my ear while I was taking a nap.
Monday: Yes, but… but…
Jane: Not a strong position you’re trying to argue from here, Monday.
Monday: You do terrible things to me all the time!
Jane: Yeah, but you should really turn the other cheek.
Monday: WHAT.
Jane: Monday. Come on. Have you never heard of the Golden Rule?
Monday (sputtering): Wha-y-y-I-I-b-b-
Jane: It’s only the thing that basically makes society possible, Monday. I mean, really.
Monday: Am I high? I must be high.
Jane: And now you’re taking the drugs? Monday. I’m so disappointed in you.
Monday: IF I AM NOT HIGH THEN I WANT TO BE DEAD.
Jane: Whoa. Whoa. Sounds like it might be time for an intervention.

Jane calls off-stage to the other days of the week.

Jane: GUYS! DUDES! MONDAY NEEDS OUR HELP! IT FINALLY ADMITTED TO THAT DMT ADDICTION!
Monday: IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO GET ADDICTED TO DMT!
Jane: Well, not with that attitude, it’s not.
Monday: What?
Jane: What what?
Monday: You are not making a lick of sense.
Jane: I know. I’m, like, REALLY HIGH on DMT right now.
Monday: AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH- 

Monday runs off-stage.

Jane (calling off-stage): JUST KIDDING!

Jane puts her head down on the table again.

Jane: I came down, like, minutes ago.

Characters: Jane, Thursday

Jane: So, how did the SOPA blackout yesterday go for you?
Thursday: The what what?
Jane: The SOPA blackout. A bunch of sites went offline or put up announcements to protest the SOPA/PIPA legislation.
Thursday: The what what what?
Jane: SOPA? PIPA?
Thursday: Sopapillas? Why would anyone protest those?
Jane: No one is protesting sopapillas. People are protesting shitty legislation that would throttle creativity and leaves loopholes allowing massive abuse.

Thursday thinks for a minute.

Thursday: And this doesn’t involve sopapillas?
Jane: It does not.
Thursday: Hm. Wikipedia seemed to think it involved sopapillas.
Jane: Uhhhhh, are you sure about that? Wikipedia was blacked out yesterday.
Thursday: Is that why Evil Wikipedia was the only page it let me go to and I couldn’t check to see if the List of Fictional Cats had been added to?
Jane: That was… I mean… did you even read the page?
Thursday: Obviously I did not.
Jane: So what, exactly, gave you the idea that Wikipedia said it involved sopapillas?
Thursday: I couldn’t go on Wikipedia, so I searched Wikipedia on Twitter! And all these people were being really helpful and posting Facts Without Wikipedia! I learned SO MUCH!

Jane facepalms.

Jane: Okay. So we can try to undo at least some of this damage, why don’t you tell me a few of the oh so many things you learned yesterday?
Thursday: Oh man! There was so much! It was GREAT! I learned that Pluto can’t be a planet because copyright violation, and I learned that gluten isn’t actually a thing, and that Sarah Palin is a national hero, and-
Jane: Okay. I’m going to go ahead and stop you.
Thursday: Why? I’m just trying to share knowledge, because stupid Wikipedia is gone and now no one can do their homework.
Jane: Wikipedia is back now.
Thursday: Really?
Jane: Yes. It was a 24-hour blackout. To protest terrible legislation.
Thursday: That’s not what Twitter said.
Jane: Twitter was wrong. Twitter is often wrong. Now come here, we have to get the rest of the “facts” you learned yesterday out of your brain.

Jane picks up an impact driver.

Thursday: What are you going to do with that?
Jane: It’s called “trepanning”. It’ll let all the bad facts out of your head.
Thursday: Are you sure?
Jane: Of course. I looked it up on Wikipedia.

Jane revs the impact driver. The curtain drops.

Characters: Friday, Jane

Jane is wearing a shirt that says, “Bitches don’t know about my complex and nuanced views on the charged and multifaceted topic of gender.” Friday enters.

Jane: Friday! Hi! Hi! Hi!
Friday: Hold on. I’m reading your shirt.

Jane stands quietly while Friday finishes reading.

Friday: That’s stupid. Unless your views on gender can be expressed in 140 characters or less, they don’t count.
Jane: That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.
Friday: Really? Don’t you have a twitter account?
Jane: Fair. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard… listen, it’s stupid, okay. I don’t need a superlative for it to still be incredible dumb.
Friday: SAY IT IN 140 CHARACTERS OR I DON’T CARE.
Jane: No. I refuse to discuss something as exceptionally complex as gender with those kind of restrictions.
Friday: Too bad!

Sunday runs in, wearing a sequined gold blazer. Jane facepalms.

Jane: Oh god. Oh dear. Oh dear.

Sunday (in full game-show announcer voice): Thaaaaat’s right, everyone! It’s time to play “WHAT ELSE CAN WE OVERSIMPLIFY AND THEN GET ANGRY ABOUT”!

Canned cheering is heard as three podiums and a giant tv screen descend from above. Jane has her face in her hands.

Jane: This is just such a bad idea. Not even Bad Decision Dinosaur could get behind an idea this bad.

Friday picks Jane up and sets her behind one of the podiums, then eagerly runs behind the other podium. Sunday stands at the third podium, facing the “contestants”. Jane shakes her head.

Sunday: Alllllll right, kids, you know the rules!
Jane: No, I don’t.
Sunday (thrown off slightly): Oh. Right. Okay. (back in announcer mode) Our contestants have 140 characters or less to express the most simplistic view possible on a chosen topic. Ed, what’s our topic for today?
Disembodied Voice From Nowhere: Well, Sunday, today our lucky contestants will be sharing their views onnnnnnnnnn GENDER!

The giant tv screen lights up with “GENDER” in huge letters. Canned applause and cheering plays. Jane thunks her head onto her podium.

Jane: This is just the worst idea.
Sunday: All right, contestants, let’s get started. Friday, as our reigning champion-
Jane: What?!
Sunday (ignoring Jane): You’ll be going first. Aaaaaaaaaaaand we’re off!
Friday (excited): Gender is a social construct!
Jane: Okay, amazingly, so far I’m okay with this.
Friday: Cisgendered men have no right to talk about gender with women or transpeople!
Jane: I’m less comfortable with this.
Friday: We live in a post-gender society!
Jane: That’s just patently false. And stupid. Really stupid. And completely contradicts what you just said.
Friday: ANYONE WHO DOES ANYTHING THAT ALIGNS WITH TRADITIONAL GENDER ROLES IS A TRAITOR TO PROGRESS!

Bells and sirens start going off.

Sunday: And we’ve got our winner! Friday, congratulations! Jane, I’m sorry, but your unwillingness to engage in overly simplistic debates about complicated topics has once again caused you to lose the internet.
Jane: And yet I still feel like I won.
Friday: WHY HAVE YOU NOT THROWN OFF YOUR SOCIETALLY-IMPOSED SHACKLES OF FEMALEHOOD!
Jane: Never mind. Clearly, we have all lost.

Characters: Jane, Friday

Jane is using a tiny toothbrush and vigorously scrubbing her teeth, one by one. Friday enters.

Jane (foaming at the mouth, hopefully from the toothpaste): Goo mahnig Ffidah!
Friday: What? Oh god, Tuesday told me about this! (shaking Jane vigorously) THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU! THE POWER OF-

Jane sprays toothpaste all over Friday’s face.

Jane: Why does everyone think I’m speaking in tongues?!
Friday: Because you’re constantly trying to speak while doing stuff like sticking out your tongue or… what was it you were doing just then?
Jane: Brushing my teeth!

Jane proudly brandishes her tiny toothbrush at Friday.

Friday: You know, they make those in big girl size now.
Jane: I wanted to be sure to clean every tooth! I’ve got a dentist appointment!
Friday: And?
Jane: And it’s my first one in like two years, so I wanted to-
Friday: Wait, WHAT?
Jane: What?
Friday: Two years?
Jane: Yeah, and?
Friday: Let me just be sure I understand what’s going on here. Despite having dental insurance through your job until last summer, AND despite having dental insurance through school starting last fall, you didn’t bother to go to the dentist for TWO YEARS?
Jane (looking sheepish): Well, I mean, I was busy, and-
Friday: NO. NO. Do you know how many people don’t have dental insurance?
Jane: Seven?
Friday: Se-no. It’s more than seven.
Jane: Interesting.
Friday: It’s not interesting, it’s terrible. People would be thrilled to have dental insurance.
Jane: Wait, are you giving me the starving children in Ethiopia argument about getting plaque scraped off my teeth?
Friday: IT’S NOT THE SAME THING.
Jane: YOU ARE CREATING A FALSE EQUIVALENCY.
Friday: It’s still unconscionable that-
Jane: Wait, seriously? I mean, seriously? This isn’t like I’m burning down houses people could live in. It’s not like my dental insurance is transferrable.
Friday: It’s also not like going to the dentist is some huge burden.
Jane: But they’re my teeth! Surely I should be allowed to decide-
Friday: NO. NOT GOING TO THE DENTIST WHEN YOU HAVE INSURANCE BASICALLY MEANS YOU ARE HITLER.

Jane and Friday both pause to think about that one.

Jane: Did you… I mean… Hitler?
Friday: Maybe not Hitler. Maybe just Stalin or something.
Jane: I’ll bet Stalin had terrible teeth.
Friday: Are you now also being racist about Russia?
Jane (shrugging): Sort of? It seems like the kind of thing I would do.
Friday: I take it back. You’re basically Hitler.
Jane: But at least I have great teeth!
Friday: Not if you only go to the dentist every two years, you don’t.
Jane: Oh yeah?
Friday: Ummmmm… yes?
Jane: Only one way to prove you wrong!

Jane leaps at Friday and bites its earlobe off.

Friday: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH MY EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!

Friday runs screaming off-stage, clutching its ear.

Jane (yelling after it): I TOLD YOU SO! 

Characters: Jane, Monday

Jane is catching snowflakes on her tongue. Monday enters.

Monday: What the?
Jane (sticking out her tongue): Imb cathig noflaa!
Monday: You’re speaking in tongues! GET YOURSELF TOGETHER, WOMAN!

Monday grabs Jane by the shoulders, shakes her, and then slaps her across the face.

Jane: OW!
Monday: MY GOD, SHE’S STILL SPEAKING IN TONGUES!

Monday slaps Jane again.

Jane: WHAT THE FUCK?
Monday: Phew. I seem to have fixed you.
Jane: I was catching snowflakes! And “ow” is a word!
Monday: Not according to the Scrabble dictionary.
Jane: Fuck the Scrabble dictionary. The Scrabble dictionary is the bitchy know-it-all sister of decent dictionaries. It’s like that kid in college who spent a month in India and now thinks he’s “worldly”.
Monday: You seem to have spent an awful lot of time thinking about this.
Jane: Yeah. Huh.

Monday and Jane pause, apparently to ponder the amount of time Jane has spent pondering the Scrabble dictionary.

Monday: You’re surprisingly calm, considering.
Jane: Considering what?
Monday: Well, your normal demeanor, really. But also considering how batshit you went when there was even a possibility of snow.
Jane: I live in Michigan. Snow is a thing that happens with some frequency.
Monday: Wait, WHAT?
Jane: Well, it mostly has to do with the latitude, as well as the prevailing winds from-
Monday: I wasn’t whatting in hopes of a bogus climatology lesson-
Jane: But I had one all READY.
Monday: I was whatting about when on earth did you move to Michigan?
Jane (shrugging): Urrrmmm. Like four months ago.
Monday: Seriously?
Jane: No, I’m joking about moving to Michigan, because that makes way more sense.
Monday: I mean, it kind of does. What the fuck are you doing in Michigan?
Jane: Going to grad school.

Monday snorts, then looks at Jane. It snorts again, and then falls to the ground laughing hysterically. Jane narrows her eyes and looks down at it.

Jane: And what’s so funny about that?
Monday: Oh my god, someone let you in to grad school.
Jane: HEY!
Monday (still snickering): What are you getting your degree in, Advanced Cuntiness? Are you pursuing a Ph.D. in Incoherent Cursing?
Jane: Information Science. I am going to be an Information Scientist.

Monday guffaws even harder.

Jane: WHAT IS FUNNY ABOUT THAT.

Monday stands up and wipes tears from its eyes.

Monday: Nothing, actually. That sounds like a really useful thing to do.
Jane: FU- oh. Yeah. Yeah, it is.
Monday: Okay then.
Jane: What the fuck was so funny, then?
Monday: Oh, nothing. I just figured that was the best way to piss you off.
Jane: The fuck?
Monday: Yeah, no, it just seemed like a good way to mess with you.

Jane narrows her eyes at Monday again.

Jane: Hey Monday.
Monday (still giggling a little): Yeah?
Jane: You were right.
Monday: About… about what?
Jane: That was a good way to piss me off.

Jane and Monday stare at each other for a second. Monday looks at Jane, then looks off-stage, then looks at Jane again. Jane continues to stare at Monday. Monday looks at Jane one last time and starts to sprint off-stage. Jane tackles it.

Jane: Did I mention I’m auditing a course in Kicking Your Ass Back to Yesterday?

Jane pummels Monday vigorously.

Monday: Fuck-ow-ing elective OW courses OW OW OW-

The curtain drops.

Characters: Wednesday, Jane

Jane saunters in. Wednesday gapes at her in astonishment.

Wednesday: No. No. It can’t be. I thought… surely… GODDAMMIT. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. I QUIT.

Jane nuzzles Wednesday’s neck, then rests her head on its shoulder and looks up at it through wide, adoring eyes.

Jane: I missed you, toooooooooo.

Wednesday violently shrugs, throwing Jane’s head off its shoulder, and steps away from her.

Wednesday: Go away. Just go away. You’re horrible.
Jane: But I wanted to be sure you had something to be thankful for! It’s almost Fat White People Holiday*!
Wednesday: I was thankful for you not being around anymore! For nearly six months I was basically the most thankful EVER.
Jane: But… you… you didn’t miss me?
Wednesday: NO. I did not miss you.

Jane’s eyes well up with tears.

Jane: Oh. Okay.

She sniffles a few times. Wednesday looks very uncomfortable.

Wednesday: I know what you’re doing.
Jane: Being sad because I missed you and you didn’t miss me?
Wednesday: No! You’re trying to make me feel bad so you can, I don’t know, do something else horrible to me.
Jane: As horrible as trying to make me feel guilty for the emotions I’m feeling?
Wednesday: Wait. Wa-
Jane: Because that’s pretty horrible.
Wednesday: No. That’s not what I was doing.
Jane: It felt a lot like what you were doing.
Wednesday: That’s not what I was doing! Fine! Fine! Go ahead! Cry! Punch me! DO WHATEVER YOU ARE GOING TO DO, AND GET IT OVER WITH.
Jane: I was going to do this.

Wednesday cringes. Jane hands it one of those hand turkey drawings, which looks like it was done by a toddler. Fake feathers are glued all over the page, without regard to where the actual hand outline is.

Wednesday: Wait, seriously?
Jane: Yeah.
Wednesday: This is, like, the worst hand turkey I have ever seen.
Jane: Wow. Okay. My nephew made that especially for YOU, but sure, you go right on ahead and talk smack about it. I mean, you’re right, a four-year-old** should know better.

Wednesday looks mortified.

Jane: BUT HEY. I can just tell him you thought it was the worst hand turkey ever, no sweat. I’ll be right back, just have to go crush his tiny spirit.
Wednesday: No! I didn’t mean it! I thought… I thought you made it!
Jane: SERIOUSLY?

Both pause to think.

Wednesday: I’m not… I’m not doing myself any favors, am I?
Jane: You are not.
Wednesday: Didn’t think so.

Wednesday pauses again.

Wednesday: This would be a good time to run, wouldn’t it?
Jane: It really would.
Wednesday: Right.

Wednesday sprints off-stage. Jane giggles happily.

Jane: Ahhhhh. I missed this.

*You guys would not BELIEVE the appalling image search queries I input for the sake of these mediocre visual/mouseover gags.

**I’m pretty sure he’s four. Sam, are you four? If so, I hope you’re not reading this blog. But if you are, hey, way to go, this blog is at least a second-grade reading level! I’m so proud of you.

Characters: Thursday, Jane

Jane is holding a sign that says, “ASK ABOUT MY OPINIONS ABOUT THE PRIVILEGING OF THE SELF”

Thursday: Ummm… do I actually want to ask?
Jane: It depends. How do you feel about ranting?
Thursday: I guess it’s better than the usual, “I’m so happy I’m going to beat you senseless.”
Jane: Are you sure? We could definitely do that! Because I’m even happier than usual! I-
Thursday: PLEASE TELL ME WHAT ARE YOUR OPINIONS ON THE PRIVILEGING OF THE SELF.
Jane: Really?
Thursday: Well, I actually have no idea what you mean by that, but sure, it’s better than a vicious beating.
Jane: Well, what I mean is that there is this attitude that is prevalent amongst certain hand-wringy types on the internet that somehow the increasingly visible collaborative and collective structure of the online world leads to a devaluing of individuality.
Thursday: Ummmmmm. I am perhaps beginning to regret this decision.
Jane: And this is such bullshit!
Thursday: Uhhhhhh… okay.
Jane: Because here is the thing: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A SOLITARY WORK.
Thursday: What?
Jane: There is no art, no literature, NO ANYTHING that is not in some way collaborative and collective.
Thursday: But… I mean, people write stuff by themselves all the time. And make art. And-
Jane: Yes! But the dissemination of these things is by definition collaborative and collective! And even their creation requires an engagement in the outside world that makes the romanticism of the artist as loner just SO IRRITATING AND WRONG.
Thursday: Well, yes. I mean, there’s no way to escape somehow being a part of the world, even if your part in that world is to reject the outside world.
Jane: Which isn’t really possible, you know.
Thursday: What about “Walden”?
Jane: What about it?
Thursday: That’s all about rejecting the outside world.
Jane: Dude, even that chumpbot Thoreau realized that what he was doing wasn’t actually isolating himself or rejecting the outside world. Also I call shenanigans on anyone who has his mom do his laundry while he’s on a self-declared retreat from society.
Thursday: Thoreau had his mom do his laundry while he was living at Walden Pond?
Jane: Well, she and his sister stopped by to clean the house.
Thursday: Seriously?
Jane: Which is nicely illustrative of my point.
Thursday: I’m still not sure I’m actually getting your point.
Jane: My point is that there is all this whinging and freaking out about how the internet is destroying individuality by valuing collaboration and creation of online communities, which are somehow supposed to be less valid or real than communities in the physical world. Like somehow the internet is less real than the physical world. THEY ARE ALL PART OF THE SAME WORLD OH MY GOD HOW IS THIS EVEN SOMETHING I HAVE TO SAY.
Thursday: I’m really, really rethinking my decision to ask about this.
Jane: The structure of community has changed. As it does over time. AS IT HAS DONE SINCE TIME IMME-FUCKING-MORIAL. The internet is not destroying culture. There is no “culture”. There are many cultures. Some of them have embraced the internet and are doing amazing things in that context. Others of them consist of hidebound literary theorists who live in fear of change.
Thursday: I definitely regret this decision.
Jane: THE INTERNET DOES NOT DESTROY ANYTHING, IT MERELY CHANGES THINGS OH MY GOD THIS MAKES ME SO FUCKING ANGRY.

Jane punches Thursday in the arm.

Thursday: What the fuck?! I listened to your semi-coherent rantings about… things!
Jane: It made me really mad, so I had to hit something.
Thursday: Well, at least you’re violently angry, instead of violently ecstatic, I guess. I do like it when you’re not happy.
Jane: Oh, no, I’m still happy!
Thursday: WHAT THE FUCK.

Jane takes a bat and whacks Thursday in the stomach.

Jane: I love ranting about stuff! Wheeeeeee!
Thursday: Jesus. You could really teach Thoreau a thing or two about sucking the marrow out of life. Also the life out of life.
Jane: WHEEEEEEEEEE! I HAVE OPINIONS ABOUT STUFF!

Characters: Wednesday, Jane

Wednesday is standing on the stage. Jane materializes out of nowhere.

Wednesday: Where the hell did you spring from?!
Jane: What do you mean?
Wednesday: You just… appeared. From nowhere.
Jane: Ooh, I learned a new skill!
Wednesday: You learned how to teleport? That’s impossible.
Jane: I’m even more quantum!
Wednesday: AUGH. No. No you’re not.
Jane: Okay! I’m magic!
Wednesday: Also not true!
Jane: So how come I appeared out of nowhere?

Wednesday pauses for a minute.

Wednesday: Because your rudimentary understanding of physics does not extend to this blog?

A siren goes off. Wednesday ducks, then looks around, alarmed.

Wednesday: What the fuck is that?!
Jane: Fourth wall alarm! Wheeeeeeeeeee!
Wednesday: When did we get one of those?!
Jane: Dunno! I guess my subconscious installed it? I don’t really understand the mechanics of this blog.

The siren goes off again, louder this time.

Wednesday: HOW DO WE MAKE IT STOP?
Jane: I guess we have to stop breaking the fourth wall?
Wednesday: That’s, like, half of what we do!
Jane: I never said it was convenient.
Wednesday: Nothing ever is with you, is it?
Jane: Oh, okay, or you could just get all snippy about it.
Wednesday: I plan to!
Jane: Fine. You do that. I’m going to go fix this.

A sledgehammer materializes in Jane’s hands. She swings it over her shoulder and walks off-stage. Loud crashes are heard, along with breaking glass. The siren stops. Jane walks back in, dusting her hands off.

Jane: Solved!
Wednesday: Oh. Thanks.
Jane: You’re welcome!
Wednesday: So now that we’re done with that, are you going to explain where the fuck you’ve been for the last month?
Jane: Hadn’t planned on it!
Wednesday: Really?
Jane: I’ve been indisposed.
Wednesday: Doing what?
Jane: Being happy.
Wednesday: Let me get this straight. You were too happy. To blog.
Jane: Yep!
Wednesday: But now you’re not?
Jane: No, I’ve just recalibrated so I can function at a higher level of happiness!
Wednesday: Wait, WHAT?
Jane: What what?
Wednesday: You can’t be serious. You are actually HAPPIER than before?
Jane: I know, RIGHT? Fucking crazy!
Wednesday: No. I refuse to allow this. You were already terrifying. If you get happier, you will become… I don’t know. I can’t think of anything stronger than, “unholy terror”.
Jane: Mayhem tsunami?
Wednesday: I mean… maybe. I feel like maybe it should just be a series of incoherent screams.
Jane: Awwww. Thanks!
Wednesday: That’s not a compliment!
Jane: No, I’m pretty sure it is.

Wednesday and Jane look at each other. Wednesday looks slightly nervous.

Wednesday: Soooooo.
Jane: Yes?
Wednesday: I can’t help but notice that you haven’t been particularly mean. Like, you haven’t even called my mom a whore so far.
Jane: Well, I got that out of my system last night. BOOYAH!

Wednesday glares.

Jane: Oh, fine. No more whore jokes for… how about a week?
Wednesday: That’s the next time I’m here!
Jane: PERFECT!

Characters: Jane, Tuesday

Jane is standing on one side of the stage. She is also standing on the other side. Tuesday walks in, and does a quadruple-take.

Tuesday: No. No. I thought your identical twin was a fake!
Jane: She was.
Tuesday: THEN WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON.
Jane: I’m quantum!
Tuesday: You’re what?
Jane: I’m quantum!
Tuesday: That’s not possible.
Jane: I’m superpositioned!
Tuesday: This is not how physics works!
Jane: Since when does anyone involved in this blog understand physics?
Tuesday: I understand enough to know this isn’t possible!
Jane: Yes it is! I’m quantum! Wheeeeeeee!

Jane spins around. Jane also spins around, in the opposite direction.

Jane: Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Tuesday: Really, though, that’s not how it works.
Jane: I’m a qubit!
Tuesday: You’re not a qubit.

Jane, still superpositioned, slaps Tuesday in the face and the back of the head.

Tuesday: HOLD ON.
Jane: Yeeeeeesssss?
Tuesday: I am observing you.
Jane: Yeeeeeeessssss?
Tuesday: Once a particle in a superposition has been observed, it’s no longer in that superposition! THIS IS LIKE THE WHOLE THING SCHRODINGER WAS ON ABOUT.
Jane: Schrödinger’s cat just wasn’t trying hard enough.
Tuesday: THIS IS NOT PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE.
Jane: Nope! It’s quantum mechanically possible! Wheeeeeeeeee!
Tuesday: I’m leaving until your wave function collapses.
Jane: Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Tuesday stalks off. Jane looks at herself. An idea is clearly brewing. Jane runs at herself full-tilt. She knocks foreheads with herself and falls to the floor, giggling.

Jane: I’m quaaaaaaaantummmmmmmmm.

Characters: Tuesday, Jane

Jane stumbles in, filthy and covered with metal shavings. She’s grinning like a manticore.

Tuesday: What the hell happened?
Jane: Are… huh?
Tuesday: What?
Jane: Where are all the robots?
Tuesday: What robots?
Jane: What?
Tuesday: Robots!
Jane: Yes. Where did they all go? There were robots, and then there were more robots, and some of the robots gave me boozy drinks and I liked them the best, and some of the robots went SMASHSMASHDESTROY and I liked them the best, too.
Tuesday: What the hell are you babbling about? WHAT ROBOTS?
Jane: The robot-y ones. You know. With the things. And the parts. And then CRUNCHCRUNCHROBOTATTACKCRUNCHWHEEEEEEEE!
Tuesday: Where have you been for the last two weeks?
Jane: Robots.
Tuesday: Is… is that in Canada?
Jane: It’s not not in Canada. I think. I’m not sure. But where is the robots I miss the robots where is them?
Tuesday: Um. Is that… do you have a gear stuck in your hair?

Jane reaches up and untangles a gear wheel from her hair.

Jane: That explains a few things.
Tuesday: Would you mind passing those few things along to the rest of us? BECAUSE THE REST OF US ARE STILL CONFUSED. Also a little hungry.
Jane: Robots don’t need food. You are not a robot.
Tuesday: Were they zombie robots? Did they eat your brain? Why are you even less articulate than usual?
Jane: Robots.
Tuesday: You’re actually starting to freak me out a little.
Jane: You want to freak out?
Tuesday: No, but-
Jane: SKYNET HAS BECOME SELF-AWARE! OH MY GOD WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE OH NO ROBOTS OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Tuesday (flailing arms, screaming): NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Jane waits patiently while Tuesday flails. Tuesday notices that Jane is no longer screaming.

Tuesday: Oh, you are just fucking hilarious.
Jane: What did we learn today?
Tuesday: We learned fuck off, you spit-tongued virago.
Jane: Ooh! Someone’s been using the thesaurus I bought them.

Jane ruffles Tuesday’s hair. Tuesday glowers.

Jane: Aww, I’m sorry I fooled you into thinking we had reached the singularity again.
Tuesday (mumbling): Bet you’ve reached the cuntiness singularity, I bet.
Jane: If it makes you feel better, I- OH GOD THE MACHINES ARE HERE RUN!

Jane sprints off-stage. Tuesday stands on stage glaring.

Tuesday (calling after Jane): NOT FUNNY!

A menacing-looking humanoid robot taps Tuesday on the shoulder. Tuesday turns around, sees it, screams hysterically, and runs off-stage. Jane re-enters.

Jane (patting the robot on the head): Aren’t you just the cutest l’il death machine? Let’s go kill all humans, precious.