by Bryan Braun

Created on: June 02, 2010

Stan enters. He is an 18 year-old-boy- who has just graduated High School, and the fears of the outside world scare him more then anything in the world. He is relaying his fears in a circle...a help circle. There are imaginary people around him, but he is the only real person. The set is also imaginary; this scene takes place on an empty stage. A light comes up center, and he enters left, walking to the light.

STAN: Hi. I suppose you are all wondering what I am doing here. My doctor says it will help me to talk to people about my fears. He says, "Don't be afraid of what people think, they have probably been thourgh the same thing." But that can't be truce. Not everyone is me. See, I am afraid..of the future. Most people look forward to the future, but it scares me. I graduated number 225 out of 495 in my class, And that is about...middle. Average. I am always average. I got mostly C's, and never really beat anybody at anything. I always took 5th or honorable mention in a contest out of 6 or 7. I have been average my whole life. Average people don'g get anywhere in this world. Donald Trump, Bill Gates, Teddy Rosevelt, Chef Boyardee, and Mrs. Buttersworth. She is a bottle of syrup, yet she owns her own syrup chain. I could never own my own syrup chain, let alone be a talking bottle. Aberagepeople get nothing but stupid, deadbeat jobs...like bagging groceries. Oh boy, I can see it now...in three years I am going to be asking people "Paper or plastic" or "Do you want fries withthat?" But not even that, I am so indecisive. I don't even know what I want to do with my life. I mean...I suppose I could start a syrup chain. I could call it Stan's super...er...duber...um...mega...syrup. See, I can't even decide on a name for my syrup. And if I can't decide a name for a syrup industry, how can I choose what I want to do with my life? Or even what college to go to. I mean...I got accepted into Baker, but I don't really want to be a chef. I did get accepted into Eastern, but I live on the west side of the state, and I am not ready to live on my own. I mean I can't even do my own laundry, Every monring I bring down my dirty clothes and say, "Mom, wash these." She scowls at me and says, "Why don't you learn how to do laundry.?" But I can never figure out an answer, so I say, "I don't know." But laundry isn't the only thing I have to worry about (I can pay someone for that) its cooking that scares me. Cooking is a scary, scary thing. Although, I suppose if I go to baker, I could

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