(LIGHTS UP on an empty stage.)
(Speaker enters carrying a chair and places it center-stage. He sits and produces a pair of pliers and a safety pin. As he speaks, he uses the pliers to bend the safety pin into a tool that, with a screwdriver folding out of the handle of the pliers, he will use to mime the picking of a lock.)
We're friends, right? You and me?
For most of the time that I've known you, I didn't think I would ever want to be anything more than your friend.
Then again, when I decided I wanted to learn to pick locks, I didn't plan to use the skill to gain entry to your dorm room at three in the morning.
Yet here I am.
I guess I didn't really intend to use the skill at all. I just enjoy knowing how to do things. I can bake bread, I can drive stick, and I can change the spark plugs of pretty much any car manufactured before 1991.
So I got bored last summer, and I decided to learn how to pick locks.
Have you ever really looked at Jake? Have you ever watched the way he looks at you? At your friends? At other girls?
Are you blind to the fact that he doesn't care about you. Not the way. . .
Do you know what it's like to be attracted to a girl who jokingly introduces you to people as her "gay best friend"?
One day, it just hit me: You're smart. You're warm. You laugh at my stupid jokes. You do this thing with your lips when you fix your hair-- it drives me nuts. I realized I wanted to be more than your friend.
I didn't say anything, because you were with Jake. I didn't say anything, even though you were with someone who didn't care about you, who told racist jokes, and who shoplifted your Christmas presents.
I didn't say anything.
For about a year.
Last weekend, you and Jake broke up.
Here I am.
I didn't plan on breaking in like this.
Do you have any idea what it's like to ask a girl if you can buy her dinner and take her to a movie, only for her to miss the fact that you're asking her on a date.
You told me you were going to meet Jake for coffee this afternoon and that I should meet you here after. But you hadn't gotten back at six. Or at eight. Or at eleven. Or at two.
From coffee. With your ex-boyfriend.
(He finally gets the lock to turn. He stands and opens the imaginary door in front of him.)
But you'll come home sooner or later. I don't know what's going to happen when you do.
I am certain that we will not be friends anymore.
(BLACKOUT) "Friendship is For Pussies" IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE DOWNLOADED, TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR
"Friendship is For Pussies or: Have You Noticed that Adam Hahn's Characters Never Get Laid" debuted October 25, 2002, performed by Adam Hahn.