Apocalypse: Pacific Daylight Time

By Mary L. Sprouse

Apocalypse, Pacific Daylight Time - Armageddon comes to suburbia in this dark comedy about a married couple who awaken to the sounds of imminent war. As Bill and Debra come to grips with impending doom and struggle with ways to survive, they reflect on their lives tog

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary L. Sprouse
• Release date: Dec 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9780971306066

Mary L. Sprouse

Mary L. Sprouse is a playwright and lyricist. Her plays include "Who Killed Annabel Lee," "54, rue Lepic," and "Apocalyse, Pacific Daylight Time." Her songs, such as "A Heartache in the Making," "Firefly Kisses," and "Double Rainbow," can be found on her YouTube channel, Light Me Up Music.She is also an attorney and the author of six published books on taxes and personal finance, including The MONEY Income Tax Handbook (Time Warner), Sprouse's Two-Earner Money Book (Viking Penguin), Financial First Aid (John Wiley & Sons), and If Time is Money, No Wonder I'm Not Rich (Simon & Schuster).  She was Tax Editor of MONEY magazine for seven years.  She has appeared on numerous U.S. television and radio programs, including three appearances on Good Morning, America, in addition to the Today Show, NBC's A Closer Look, CBS Nightwatch, and the Financial News Network. She has also been interviewed or received publicity from The New York Times, Business Week, MONEY. People, Vogue, Ladies Home Journal, The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, and many others. She is a member of the Dramatists Guild of America.

Book preview

APOCALYPSE, PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME

CHARACTERS

BILL HARRISON

DEBRA HARRISON

VOICEOVERS — RADIO STATION ANNOUNCERS AND GUESTS (AUDIO ONLY)

VOICE MAIL CELL PHONE RECORDING (AUDIO ONLY)

SCENE

THE INTERIOR OF A SUBURBAN MASTER BEDROOM BEFORE DAWN

TIME

THE PRESENT

ACT I

THE INTERIOR OF A SUBURBAN MASTER BEDROOM BEFORE DAWN. CENTER STAGE IS A BED. BEHIND THE BED IS A PICTURE WINDOW. IT IS FRAMED BY FLOOR-LENGTH CURTAINS, THAT ARE DRAWN. ON EITHER SIDE OF THE BED ARE NIGHTSTANDS WITH BEDSIDE LAMPS. THE LAMP STAGE RIGHT CASTS A DIM YELLOW LIGHT. AT STAGE LEFT, A BATHROOM DOOR STANDS OPEN, A NIGHTLIGHT SHEDDING AN EERIE GLOW WITHIN. THE INTERIOR OF THE BATHROOM IS NOT VISIBLE. AT STAGE RIGHT IS A WARDROBE. A CHEST STANDS AT THE FOOT OF THE BED.

ASLEEP IN THE BED ARE A MARRIED COUPLE, BILL AND DEBRA HARRISON. THEY ARE IN THEIR MID- TO LATE-FORTIES. BILL IS ON THE STAGE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED.

AS THE SCENE OPENS, BILL IS GENTLY SNORING. THIS CONTINUES FOR SEVERAL SECONDS BEFORE HE ABRUPTLY STOPS AND TURNS OVER. GRADUALLY, IN THE BACKGROUND, WE HEAR A DISTANT AIRPLANE. OVER THE COURSE OF THE NEXT MINUTE, THIS SOUND WILL GROW LOUDER UNTIL IT SEEMS TO BE DIRECTLY OVERHEAD. MEANWHILE, THERE IS AN INCREASED RUMBLE OF OTHER AIRPLANES HEARD AT A DISTANCE. AS THE FIRST AIRPLANE REACHES A PEAK OF SOUND, BILL BOLTS UPRIGHT.

BILL

What the....

The sound of approaching airplanes is magnified as they come closer. The roar has a distorted quality, as if filtered by the atmosphere. It becomes increasingly ominous. As the scene progresses, waves of airplanes will continue to pass overhead, becoming louder, then receding in the distance. At all times, there will be a distant rumble.

BILL

Debra! Do you hear that?

DEBRA mumbles incoherently.

BILL

I think we’re at war.

DEBRA

Planes.

BILL

(Sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor.)

That’s not just planes. Listen! It’s war!

DEBRA

We’re in the flight path.

BILL

I know we’re in the flight path. I know what 737s landing every three bloody minutes sound like.

DEBRA

White noise. Just tune it out, you always say.

BILL

I know what I always say. White noise is static, bath water running, the TV in another room.

This isn’t white noise. This is our daughter learning to play the violin, a dentist drilling into your brain, Janet Leigh being stabbed in the shower.

DEBRA

Or a hysterical husband.

BILL

Could you say that a little louder? I can’t hear you for the impending doom overhead.

DEBRA

It’s just a change in the atmosphere. Like the way we can hear a train whistle downtown when the wind is blowing our way.

BILL

Those are fighter jets. Squadrons of fighter jets. I was in the Air Force. I ought to know.

DEBRA

Maybe they’re on maneuvers.

BILL

Exercises. They’re called exercises.

DEBRA

If we weren’t in the flight plan, we could have sold this house.

BILL

You can’t leave it alone, can you?

An almost deafening thunder of airplanes shakes the stage. BILL springs up wildly. The noise recedes.

BILL

Get up! Get up! You’re sleeping through the Apocalypse!

The sound has finally alarmed DEBRA. She is sitting, holding the covers to her chest, listening.

DEBRA

It can’t be. How can it be?

BILL

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s not war. God, I hope it’s not war. That lamp. It’s on. That’s a good sign, right? If we were at war, wouldn’t the power be out?

The lamp and the bathroom light flicker and die. Another loud rumble of planes roars overhead. BILL and DEBRA both scream. DEBRA awkwardly scrambles across the top of the bed and throws herself into BILL’s arms. The airplane sound effects recede.

BILL AND DEBRA

We’re at war! We’re at war!

The lights come back on. BILL and DEBRA look around, then move apart, sheepishly.

DEBRA

Oh, God. I have to call the kids.

DEBRA races around to her side of the bed and reaches under her pillow.

BILL

Right. Call the kids. Jerry’s with the government. He should know something.

DEBRA

He’s a fish biologist. He knows how many smallmouth bass there are in Lake Erie.

BILL

It’s still the government.

DEBRA turns on the other bedside lamp. She searches the bedclothes with mounting manic intensity.

DEBRA

I can’t find my phone.

BILL

I thought you