I forgot to post this a few weeks ago. It's the final thing I wrote in that apeshit writing class before I ran out the classroom door like a Muppet. We had to write a dialogue between a live person and an inanimate object.
Insert yawn here.
What I ended up writing is a conversation between a woman and a slice of pizza.
Regretably, it reads like a Jenny Craig commercial.
(WOMAN enters quietly. PIZZA is perturbed and pacing back and forth, smoking a cigarette and nursing a scotch on the rocks.)
PIZZA: Where have you been?
WOMAN: Um, you know. Around.
PIZZA: You don't answer my calls. We never see each other anymore.
WOMAN: I've been busy.
WOMAN: No, I mean it. Work has been really tough lately.
PIZZA: Again, bullshit.
WOMAN: OK, look. I don't know how to tell you this.
WOMAN: This really isn't working out.
PIZZA: You're dumping me?
WOMAN: Let me explain.
PIZZA: How could you?
WOMAN: I know we've had such a good time together, you and I. And you've really been there for me through a lot of tough, shitty times. It's just...time for me to move on.
PIZZA: (desperate) But...what about the cheese? You told me you love cheese...
WOMAN: I do, it's just...
PIZZA: It's someone else. Isn't it?
PIZZA: (browbeating) Who is it? Huh? I bet it's that linguine you've been eyeing at the deli.
PIZZA: Or, that meatball sub. Godammit! I should have known. I can never compete with a meatball sub.
WOMAN: Daniel says...
PIZZA: (interrupting) Daniel? Who the hell is Daniel?
WOMAN: He's my trainer.
PIZZA: He's what?
WOMAN: My trainer. He says I shouldn't be with someone like you. It's not healthy.
PIZZA: (abusive) What the fuck does he know?
WOMAN: He says I need someone with more meat on his bones...someone who's not...you know...unenriched and and lacking fiber.
PIZZA: Oh, I get it. After all the handholding, the coddling, the late nights staying up together watching old movies on T.V...you're leaving me for something low-carb.
WOMAN: I'm so sorry.
PIZZA: You know what? Don't come crawling back to me, OK? Don't even try to eye me on the street after a late night out drinking, either. We're done.