Thanks to the The Space's 29PlaysLater initiative, I wrote a play a day throughout February 2016. There are generally short, badly typed and quite frankly not very good but here they are for your perusal.
29 Plays Later
Cheese Board by Mike Carter
Emma is chatting to a female friend on a smoking break from work.
A holding your breath competition? Is that your idea of how to behave. On a date? That's what I said to him. And he said, well he didn't say anything because he was determined to win. He didn't say anything for a good four minutes. Just blew up, like a raspberry. An oddly sexy cumface of a raspberry and I caught myself thinking. I could do worse. I could do worse and then I thought, Christ, he’s holding his breath.
He thinks that’s cool. I’m an idiot. And then I thought, because I had time, do guys compete at everything. That would be exhausting. And I kept thinking, because I was trying to keep the thought out of my head that he might die tight there in front of me, I thought is he nine? Actually nine years old and I'm dating a child. Clearly not true because that physique, the balding pot-bellied beauty of it, had not happened overnight. Years of effort.
So, at best I was on a first date with an intellectually subnormal adult gradually turning into a raspberry before my eyes. He was verging on violet. Why? I can hold my breath longer than you. OK, then we can play with crayons, then my mind went on to breast feeding and he went from quite cute cumface to mopping up afterwards and a little bit of sick came up in my mouth.
So faced with twenty seconds, I thought, before he breathed or died, I made decision. I ordered a large glass of Merlot. May have accidentally ordered two and then said yes to the Cheese Board.
He squeaked. Drew breath. Grinned. I win. No, sunshine I thought. No you didn't.