The King of Cool
June 18th, 2020
Starring: Ian (male, late 30’s). Joe (male, mid 60’s, a Camel)
Outside a downtown office building, lunch-hour. Ian sits on a bench, finishing the first half of a sub sandwich. He puts the other half to the side and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He shakes one out, lights it, the whole shebang.
A few beats later, Joe, a tall, slender, wrinkly being, sits on the opposite end of the bench. He has a long pointy nose, thin lips, and a thinner veneer of grey hair, combed over. He’s dressed business casual, wearing dark sunglasses, and chewing a piece of gum.
Joe stares at Ian. Ian hardly notices him.
JOE
Newports. Tsk tsk.
IAN
Excuse me?
JOE
So trashy. At least do Marlboro, or something—
IAN
Sorry, do I know you?
JOE
Come on...now that’s just hurtful, Ian.
Jesus, did I really get that old?
Maybe it’s the glasses.
Joe pulls the glasses down to the bridge of his nose, cool guy style.
That better, kid?
IAN
…woah
No frickin’ way.
Joe?
JOE
Knew I still had it.
How ya doin’ slugger? It’s been a while.
IAN
I thought you were dead! They cancelled you in ‘97.
JOE
You really believed the late 90s media? After all the michigoss with Biggie and Tupac? They’re still alive too, you know. We have a poker group.
Anyways, I know I haven’t been the best at staying in touch. Thought I would lay low for a few decades, try to shed the image.
You’re lookin’ pretty good though. Still rollerblading?
IAN
I’m not 15 anymore, Joe. A lot’s changed.
JOE
Clearly. You’re smoking Newports, for chrissake.
IAN
I’m sorry to hurt you.
JOE
You’re not, you’re not. You know I love ya, kid.
Just thought I raised you better than Newports, Jesus wept…
IAN
So what do you want Joe? Money?
JOE
Money? What in lord’s name are you talkin’ about? Where do you think all your high school lunch money went? From your mama’s hand into my satin trousers, big shot. I’ve got money.
I just wanted to reconnect with ya. Reminisce about the olden days.
You know you were one of my favorites…
IAN
How many kids did you say that to?
JOE
Every last one of em, back in the day. But that was the job, ya know? I had to make a lasting impression. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it.
...
You remember when we first met?
Because I do. I remember it clear as holy day.
Sports Illustrated, February ‘94. Swimsuit edition, page 18. Right before the Kathy Ireland two-page spread.
IAN
It was after the spread.
JOE
Ahhh, so you do remember.
IAN
Of course I remember.
It was all beaches and tan legs and skimpy one-pieces and then there you were, fully dressed in a white tux, cig perfectly hanging from your mouth, effortlessly playing this steinway piano, or something.
...
You looked so damn cool.
JOE
Yeah. I really did.
Ian flicks down his cigarette and stamps it out. He pulls out his pack again and removes one. He offers the pack to Joe.
IAN
For old times sake?
I know they’re Newports, but they’re something.
Joe waves his hand “no.”
IAN
Really?
JOE
Yeah. I’m on Nicorette.
...
IAN
You’re joking.
JOE
I’m not. Very committed.
IAN
Joe Camel is trying to quit.
Imagine seeing that headline twenty years ago.
JOE
As you said, a lot changed.
IAN
What did? Actually.
What happened to the king of cool?
JOE
I grew up. So did all the kids I befriended. They still felt cool, so I did too.
But then they got older. And they got sicker and smellier and more addicted.
And then some of ‘em started dyin’. And then I realized I was too.
I started having a lot of pain in my humps. They thought it was cancer. I had to get both removed, big surgery, and everything. But when I was done, the doc told me that my humps weren’t cancerous. They were just filled to the brim with pure bullshit.
After that I uh...didn’t feel so cool anymore.
IAN
Man. I’m sorry, Joe.
JOE
Don’t be.
Ian?
I came here because I think I might’ve already killed you. You just don’t know it yet.
IAN
I do know, Joe. I do.
I just can’t seem to stop.
JOE
I’m not tellin’ you to.
I’m just tellin’ you I’m sorry.
IAN
I appreciate that.
…
JOE
Well, I should probably be going.
Don’t wanna ruin any more precious lunch break—
IAN
Not at all.
It was really nice seeing you, Joe. I’m really glad you’re not dead.
JOE
I’m glad you’re not too, kid. I’m glad you’re not too.
Joe gets up and saunters away, into the crowd.
Ian watches him go, then sparks up his cigarette.