Kisscafe

Lights up in a confession booth. TIM sits waiting dressed up like a priest. Enter JOHN into the other side of the booth.

John: Can God create a boulder so heavy not even he can move it? I think so. Until he decides that it’s time to change the rules. God can do anything he wants. He can screw himself over if he feels like it and then reverse the effect when he gets annoyed.

John takes a drink.

John: I love this story. Judas rats out Jesus Christ and ends up hanging himself. A furious and vengeful God puts a curse on his soul. Check this out. God sends down an Angel to find every single one of Judas’ reincarnations and torment that life as much as possible. If Judas gets married, the angel kills his wife. If he has kids, he kills the kids. The angel spends his time taking away everything that person cares about. Eventually the angel ends up killing him and the soul of Judas recycles into a new body. When the angel finds him he does it all over again. As part of the curse, God erases his own memory and makes it so that the reincarnations of Judas are invisible to him. He doesn’t register his presence and he also doesn’t remember initiating the curse.

John takes a drink.

John: God used to be a prick. He’d kill people that didn’t believe in him. He’d burn your crops if you didn’t say his name properly. He was an asshole. But he turned himself around and became a forgiving God. Now, it doesn’t matter what you do, God will forgive you. He’d forgive Judas if he knew what was going on. He’d reverse the curse and his soul would be free. But his more vengeful, younger self made it so that there was a part of the universe that even God wasn’t aware of. That’s the story of the boulder so heavy not even he could move it. God knows everything. But he made it so that there was one thing he didn’t know.

John takes a drink.

John: Now, I don’t believe in God. I believe in mathematical balance. Everything started at zero and it’ll all eventually go back to zero. Balance controls everything. It’s a force, not a conscious being that makes decisions. You contribute a positive force to the world and the world becomes more positive. You contribute something negative and the world gets shittier and shittier.  

John takes a drink.

John: The only real certainty is that whatever you do, good or bad, it’s done. You’re responsible for it. You can’t take it back. Nobody is holding a gun to anyone’s head telling them how to live their lives and people don’t want to be responsible for what they do. They want excuses. God is the perfect excuse. Ever notice how - when - something good happens - people thank God and when something bad happens they wonder why God would let that happen? Do you know what that does? It let’s people think they have no control over their lives or their actions and, whatever happens - God did it. Not them. That’s ridiculous. They have zero responsibility toward their own existence. Whatever happens to them - good or bad - they won’t believe they had anything to do with it. No reason to get smarter, no reason to be a humble person and no reason to evolve. No matter what happens. God’s responsible. What a horrible way to plateau the evolution of a species.

John takes a drink.

A pause.

John: So? How have you been?

Tim: I’m fascinated at the moment. That was a good story. I’m also confused as to why you come to church if you don’t believe in God.

John: You’re not Father MacKenzie.

Tim: A very astute observation. I had you pegged for someone who would have at least checked to make sure they were venting to the right person.

John: I don’t feel threatened. I’m comfortable talking to a stranger.

Tim: Tell me your sins then, stranger. 

John: My sins are for Father MacKenzie.

Tim: I’m wearing the disguise. You can pretend.

John: Who are you?

Tim: Guess.

John: You’re here to arrest me.

Tim: There’s no arresting you. We both know that. You’d kill me if I tried. You probably have a gun on you right now.

John: I do.

Tim: Well, what I have is this whole building surrounded. Why don’t we consider conversation as an alternative to shooting each other?

John: I’m fine with that. I planned on being in here for at least an hour anyway.

Tim: You and the priest have hour-long confessions?

John: He’s an insightful man.

Tim: How long has he known you?

John: Seven years.

Tim: And how often do you talk?

John: Every day.

Tim: Every day?

John: Every day.

Tim: Doesn’t he run out of advice?

John: Oh, he does. I frustrate him. It’s kind of funny. You know, you could have interrupted my story instead of letting me go through it thinking I was talking to him.

Tim: Why? It was a great story. Everyone loves a good story. Do you think you’re Judas?

John: No. I think there’s no such thing as Judas. Just like there’s no such thing as Harry Potter. And I hope nobody does what we did two thousand years from now - pick Harry Potter up out of the sand and read about a guy with magic powers who’s going to save us all. Cause if that happens, not only will we do nothing but wait for him to come solve all our problems for us - but we’ll miss a good story and never learn anything from it.

Tim: You’re an assassin.

John: I was an assassin.

Tim: Has life really changed so drastically in twenty-five years?

John: Absolutely.

Tim: What’s different?

John: Everything’s different. How long have you been watching me? Must have been a while.

Tim: A little while. It wasn’t easy to find you. You dropped off the face of the Earth at the top of your game. Something you wanna talk about?

John: No.

Tim: Come on. You’re in confession and neither of us is going anywhere.

John: It’s not that much of a complicated story. 

Tim: Good. Then you’ll have no problem explaining it.

Pause.

John: I just never really thought about the consequences of what I was doing until after it was done. It eventually just sort of struck me that I was ending other people’s lives and the wiser I got the more it bothered me.

Tim: But you were so good at it.

John: There’s all sorts of things I’m good at. That doesn’t mean I should be doing them. I’m sure I’m good at punching old ladies in the face and knocking them unconscious. Should I be out on the sidewalk right now crackin’ them in the head? I don’t think so.

Tim: Do you have any idea how hard the crew of the surveillance van would be laughing if they watched you go on an old lady rampage? Walking down the street wildly punching women aged 50 and up? They’d put that on youtube and that’s what you’d end up being famous for.

John: I guess it’s a pretty funny visual. Violence without consequences is hilarious. That’s what makes cartoons so cool. Dropping an anvil on a hungry coyote is funny - especially when he walks away crushed up like an accordion. Actually punching old ladies in the face is horrible. Thinking about it though, that’s funny.

They laugh.

John: All right. So, you found me. Good for you. Arrest me.

Tim: I told you. There’s no arresting you. You won’t come quietly. Watch. Hey, John. Come with me.

John: No.

Tim: See?

John: Well, what then?

Tim: Did you know I used to call you The Ghost Assassin?

John: That’s a ridiculous name. You could have at least called me The Poltergeist. That’s scarier than Ghost Assassin.

Tim: We never had a picture of you. Never had a description. Nothing. We couldn’t even put you on America’s Most Wanted. Although I’m not sure you would have qualified even if we did have a photo. You don’t have a handlebar mustache and everybody knows if you want to make it on that show you have to look like a redneck.

John laughs.

John: Stop making me laugh. I don’t want a friendship getting in the way if I have to kill you and I damn sure don’t want to picture myself with a mullet.

Tim: Not all cops are dicks. We’re just doing our job.

John: You’re not a cop. You’re better than a cop. You’re probably so good you can’t tell me who you are because the government hasn’t authorized you to share that kind of information with someone like me.

Tim: I’m an angel sent from god.

John: This is an amusing waste of time. What do you want?

Tim: What do you know about wormholes?

John: I know Sisko and the cast of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine are up in space right now protecting one.

Tim: So, nothing?

John: So, exactly.

Tim: Why do you come to church everyday?

John: Why would you ask me about wormholes and then come right back to where we started in the conversation?

Tim: Because I’m a conversational artist and I’m going somewhere with this so let me do my creative work and lead you gently into it.

John: You’re assuming what you’re about to tell me is going to be so overwhelming -

Tim: Why do you come to church everyday?

John: Are you going to arrest me or not?

Tim: There is no arresting you. Fine, I’ll answer for you and all you have to do is agree or disagree. You come to church because you regret the things you’ve done.

John: Disagree.

Tim: Why?

John: I don’t know. Because you’re an asshole.

Tim: See, it’s interesting that you won’t turn yourself in but you feel you deserve to be punished. What’s up with that?

John: I can’t turn off my self-preservation mechanism. I can’t kill myself and I can’t turn myself in. If someone tried to take me in I’d have to fight my way out of it. I have an overwhelming instinct to survive. That’s not to say I don’t deserve some form of punishment I just can’t bring that punishment on myself.

Tim: Guilt counts as a punishment. Guilt gets in the way of everything.

John: Guilt is a portable prison.

Tim: And a confession booth is a stationary one. You come in here every single day. You’ve been doing it for years.

John: Wormholes.

Tim: There’s no man on Earth that can take you down but maybe God can do it, right?

John: Oh, come on. I’m not the most dangerous man on Earth. I’m fifty years old. I can’t exactly handspring through a hail of gunfire. I’m looking for answers. I come to church for an alternate method of exploring my problems. Something abstract. My mind doesn’t work in mysterious ways and maybe if it did I could find a solution. I’ve got books on Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism – just about every religion you can think of. It doesn’t just cover this booth in this church.

Tim: So, your exploration is entirely religious?

John: I started with philosophy and moved on to that, yeah.

Tim: And what is it about this church that has kept you in the same place for such a long time? Found something in Catholicism?

John: Found someone.

Tim: Ah. You found Jesus.

John: I found father Mackenzie. He’s one of the most insightful people I’ve ever met.

Tim: Ha. You believe in a priest more than you believe in the religion.

John: That’s right. At least he responds every once in a while. Feel sorry for me yet?

Tim: I’m keeping my emotional distance. Feeling anything for you could be a tactic on your part to have me lower my defenses.

John: See? I can’t even have a regular conversation because of my past. I was an assassin. I killed people and that’s something I have to deal with. Whatever you do, you can’t take it back.

 Tim: Yes you can.

John: You’re an idiot.

Tim: I’m a scientist.

John: Scientists have white coats. You’re dressed up like a priest.

Tim: What I meant was - I work for an organization that has been able to fund the scientific means to take back the things we regret doing.

John: Yeah, it’s called alcohol and someone already invented it. Plus, it doesn’t take anything back it just distracts you and then makes everything worse. 

Tim: Why don’t you call yourself Jack anymore?

John: Jack is a completely different person than who I am now.

Pause.

John: I’m John. I want different things and think in different ways. Jack is someone I can’t stand.

Tim: Jack was an asshole.

John: Jack was an asshole.

Tim: Twenty-five years ago you were hired to carry out your first assassination. You remember your target?

John: Of course I do.

Tim: Three days before you killed him, a machine was built that could open a wormhole and time travel became possible.

Pause.

John: What are you talking abo-

Tim:  - I’m talking about the scientific reality of taking it all back.

John: That’s impossible.

Tim: That’s an uneducated statement. How do you know what’s possible in science and space-time. You got a PHD in physics?

John: Ok. Good point. Still don’t believe you.

Tim: Time Travel works but the farthest you can travel back – is - to when the technology was first invented. For the rest of time, everyone in the future will only be able to go as far back as - twenty-five years ago from today - because that’s when we built the machine. You open a wormhole in the present and a wormhole opens in the past. You can walk right through it like a gateway between time periods. You with me so far?

John: No, I’m not with you. But I’m listening. I wish I had a bag of popcorn because what you’re saying is pretty entertaining.

Tim: Twenty-five years ago you killed your first target and we both know how valuable they were.

John: Valuable? Are people for sale now?

Tim: Yes. As you’ll remember you were for sale and someone bought you and made you kill him.

Pause.

Tim: To this day his death continues to influence politics and I work for an agency that would greatly benefit from him being alive instead of being dead.

John: No problem for you then. You’ve got a time-fuck machine. Send back a tank and kill me. I can’t take a tank. I could get in a punch or two and break my hand before the tank unloads in my face and - Daffy Duck’s my head all the way around. Problem solved.

Tim: Not quite. You managed to get by us even though we knew you were coming after him. It’s not that easy. You’re second-guessing your own talents. In case you weren’t aware of this - you’re a very dangerous man. 

John: I’m not second-guessing myself I’m comparing my abilities to the potential of time travel and I ‘m just not that good.

Tim: But you are a threat - and why send back an agent that you would probably kill if we can just send you back instead? You’re expendable.

John: Hold on a second.

Tim: No - you’re not gonna ask me time travel questions, are you? If you are then please get ready for your head to explode over minor details that don’t really matter.

John: Are you suggesting - I go back in time - and kill my younger self?

Tim: Yep.

John: And you’re not joking?

Tim: Nope.

John: Then you’re an idiot and this is ridiculous.

Tim: It’s ridiculous that you come to church acting like you wish there was a way to take back what you’ve done - and now that I’m telling you there’s a way you can do that -you’re resisting. That’s ridiculous.

John: That’s not ridiculous. If someone told me I could have a bag of cash with no strings attached I wouldn’t believe them regardless of how much I wanted to have some money. Me regretting the things I’ve done - has nothing to do with whether or not I think time travel is a reality. 

Tim: Have some faith.

John: Oh, very funny. 

Tim: Look, I’m not here to arrest you so the best I can do is kill you and you’re already looking for a way to die. You’re convinced you’ve ruined your life so what have you got to lose? What’s the worse case scenario? I lead you into a trap, we have a legendary gunfight and you’ll either win  - or die like you want anyway. I’ll make you a deal. If I’m lying you can kick me in the balls. How’s that?

John: I was considering doing that for fun anyway.

Tim: Don’t listen to what I have to say. Come see for yourself. What would be the point of me telling you this if I thought I could kill you or arrest you? I’d have tried to do one or the other already. This isn’t an elaborate plot. I could have had a sniper take you out on your way in here if I wanted you dead and we could have stormed the church and tackled you if I wanted you in jail. But the only plan that would involve me telling you about wormholes is a plan that involves wormholes. 

John: This is insane. What happens if I go back and kill my younger self? I shoot him right in my face. What happens to me?

Tim: You cease to exist.

John: Oh, good. Everybody wins.

Tim: What did you expect life to hand you from here on in? Were you planning on going to church every day until you died and accomplish - nothing at all? Do something about it. Stand behind what you’re saying. You want there to be a way to take back the things you’ve done. You say so every single day. Well, there is a way. Wanna go do it? Or would you rather complain about it and never find an answer?

John: Shooting my younger self and ceasing to exist is suicide. I already told you. Self-sacrifice just doesn’t work for me.

Tim: It’s still not putting the gun to your own head.

John: Yes it is. It’s exactly that.

Tim: You’re John. He’s Jack.

John: And when he dies I die too. You’re making it sound like I should be protecting him.

Tim: All I’m doing is assuming that - on a scale - your regrets would weigh more than your will to live. You’re a broken man because of the things you’ve done. If you cared that much about your life you’d be making more of an effort to move on and live it. Now, would you like to come with me and do something about your situation or would you rather sit there in your box pretending to be a good person?

Pause.

John: I’ll take the box.

Tim laughs.

Tim: Don’t make me laugh while I’m trying to be intimidating.

John: It’s fun to make people laugh.

Tim: Are you coming with me or not?

Pause.

John: Yeah, I’m coming with you.

Tim: Good. By the way, how does the story end?

John: What story?

Tim: The soul of Judas and his many cursed reincarnations. How does he escape and reverse the curse?

John: He saves someone’s life. As he’s being chased by the angel he sees someone who’s about to die and he goes out of his way to save them. God didn’t figure in the influence of Judas on the rest of history because he forced himself to forget about him, but, when he alters someone else’s destiny, God looks down and says: “Who is that?” God, being all-powerful, demands the answer and gets it. He then remembers the whole story and, being a more forgiving god than he used to be, forgives Judas - and reverses the curse. The angel bursts in to flames and returns to heaven leaving Judas to live out the rest of his life however he wants.

Tim: Who’s story is that?

John: It’s my story.

Tim: You wrote that?

John: I never put it down on paper but, yeah - I put it in my head.

Tim: You’re an impressive person.

John: Yeah. Let’s go move that boulder.

(more)