A WALK ACROSS AMERICA FOR MOTHER EARTH

An anarchist adaptation of Three Sisters set in the world of radical left activism.

• Named one of "Ten Best Plays of the Year" by The New York Times (2011)

Political activism meets bedazzled dumpster-diving drag show in this story about two young friends who flee their suburban upbringing in "Real America" to join a ragtag group of activists on a protest march from D.C. to the Nevada Nuclear Test Site. On the road, the group attempts to establish a nomadic utopia, but the marchers continually find themselves divided by unrequited affections, indecision, and a secret hunger for power.

Excerpt:

KELLY, ANGIE, and NICK are walking along the side of a road in the middle of America.  

KELLY.  Remember a month ago?  

ANGIE.  Before the walk?

KELLY.  Sitting in the parking lot of the 7-11.  

ANGIE.  You and me.

KELLY.  Always you and me, Angie.  

ANGIE.  In Real America.

KELLY.  Waiting at the doorstep of... of what?

ANGIE.  Convenience.

KELLY.  Right.

ANGIE.  Always waiting.

KELLY.  For a moment when age –

ANGIE.  Or an empathetic over-21-year-old –

KELLY.  Would give us access to good times.

ANGIE.  And we hated where we were.

KELLY.  Growing up in Real America was like... like –

ANGIE.  Drowning in a giant discarded big-cup of yesterday’s half-drunk coagulating soda.

KELLY.  Yeah.  And nobody cared.

ANGIE.  But we care.

KELLY.  We care so much more than Real Americans.

ANGIE.  And so never belonged in Real America.

KELLY.  And you were planning.  Ever since we were on jungle gyms.  Planning a way away from Real America,

ANGIE.  And our Real American families.

KELLY.  And then, as if the thing we’d been seeking was seeking us,

ANGIE.  The leaflet.

KELLY.  Right.  A leaflet,

ANGIE.  Blowing in the wind –

KELLY.  Landed at our feet.

NICK.  Ow.

ANGIE.  And on this leaflet was the Walk.

KELLY. This... what? This...

ANGIE.  Expedition.

KELLY.  Expedition into...

ANGIE.  Adulthood.

KELLY.  Yeah.

ANGIE.  But you were afraid.

KELLY.  I questioned.

ANGIE.  You were afraid to lose.

KELLY.  What if I pour my heart into a cause only to lose?

ANGIE.  We won’t.

KELLY.  Not the action.  Us.  Everyone always says friends grow apart when they explore their priorities.

ANGIE.  Not us.

KELLY.  I was afraid that if we did this we’d be like all the other people in the world who spread their friendships, their souls, to the point where they have none.

ANGIE.  So we promised not to.

KELLY.  Right.

ANGIET.  his is that moment, Kelly.  A moment where we can do something of consequence with ourselves.

KELLY.  I know.

ANGIE.  To be born into a time of apathy and destruction is a magnificent privilege.

KELLY.  I know, this is our opportunity –

ANGIE.  To be great people.

KELLY.  I know.

ANGIE.  To express our empathy.

KELLY.  You don’t have to tell me.

ANGIE.  And through that expression save oceans and lives and culture.

KELLY.  I’m here.

ANGIE.  We can’t squander that which the Creator has given us.

KELLY.  Eww.

ANGIE.  What?

KELLY.  I don’t like that word.

ANGIE.  Creator?

KELLY.  It creeps me out.

ANGIE.  Translate it.

KELLY.  To what?

ANGIE.  Call it the Universe.

KELLY.  Calling the Creator the Universe also creeps me out.

ANGIE.  But the point.

KELLY.  I know.  I’m here.  The leaflet called out and we could –

ANGIE.  If we accepted the call –

KELLY.  We could finally leave the ugliness of Real America.

ANGIE.   And join a chosen family.

KELLY.  Who have the tools and the will to strive for beauty.

ANGIE.  And now a month’s passed.

KELLY.  And here we are, so far away from Real America.

ANGIE.  Walking across the United States of America.

KELLY.  Together.

ANGIE.  Every day our lives consist of walking.  

KELLY.  But.

ANGIE.  What?

KELLY.  Together.  Right?  Walking together?  Right?  Angie?  Right?

Angie pulls an orange stake out the ground.  She flings it offstage in an overdramatic rage.  She is pleased with herself.  She goes on like nothing happened.

KELLY.  And it was so ugly there on the doorstep of convenience.   So ugly my eyes were sore.  I had sore eyes for nineteen years.  Each blink.

ANGIE.  But not anymore.

KELLY.  No.  Now, here with you, with this community, I feel –

The Grass pops up another landscaping stake.  Angie pulls out the stake and flings it offstage, again in an absurd rage.

KELLY.  Why are you doing that?

ANGIE.  It’s part of the plan.

KELLY.  It is?

Angie puts down her activist prop, a soapbox, and stands on it.

ANGIE(As if at a massive rally).  Developers are bad.

She picks up her soapbox and they walk in silence.

KELLY.  Won’t they just put the stakes in the ground again?

ANGIE.  They’re marking their territory.

KELLY.  Isn’t it their territory?

ANGIE.  Not anymore.

KELLY.  I think it’s still theirs.

ANGIE.  Maybe, but...

KELLY.  But...

ANGIE.  But I don’t have to be reminded of it every twenty feet.

NICK.  Would you mind scooting over so I don’t have to walk behind you?

KELLY.  But then I have to walk in the traffic.

ANGIE.  The side of the road isn’t built for community living.

KELLY(A discovery).  There for twosomes.

NICK.  Sometimes threesomes.

ANGIE.  Mostly not.

KELLY.  Mostly the third person has to walk behind.

NICK(In the ditch).  Or in the ditch.

ANGIE(Standing on her soapbox).  It’s like the architecture of the social dictate of how we get from place to place is about leaving someone behind.

KELLY(Writing the word “vile” on his dry-board and holding it up for all to see).  That’s!  So!  Vile!

NICK.  Ow.

KELLY.  Stop whimpering, Nick.

NICK.  I have blisters under all my toenails.  And they’re falling off!  My toenails are falling off.

He pulls a toenail off his toe.  The sinew of the toe, attached to the toenail, elastically stretches and finally pulls off, leaving behind a mangled, bloody toe.

NICK.  I’m getting the feet of an eighty-year-old and when this is all over will probably have to go on disability from varicose veins.  But I’m not giving up.  I will make it to the end.

KELLY.  To the test site!

ANGIE.  Shut it down!