a love letter to snacks

Dearest Snacks,

You know who you are, and this is why I admire you so. It's not your sweet melt-in-mouth goodness, or the crunch that's come (oh!) unexpectedly — it's that's mellow feeling you hollow out inside me that magnetizes me to you without a fight.

But, Snacks, it's clear to me that perhaps our love affair is lopsided. Perhaps I need you more than you need me. Perhaps you can just as easily find another unassuming girl who could get swept up in all you have to offer — and maybe she'd have no guilt in indulging you. I think you actually said this to me once, that I liked you more than you liked me, and then you swiftly exited through the backdoor. I found it rude at the time, and I honestly can say that I don't know why I'm even bringing that up to you now.

I apologize. This is a love letter for Christ's sake. I was going to say for Hershey's sake or Crunch's sake, but I decided to go for sincerity and got the Lord involved. Even just then I would have substituted Lord for Truffle or something insanely perfect, akin to Christ. Or a something like a Whatchamacallit.

This, my darling Snacks, is a love letter. And I love you, Snacks. I love you so much.

Dammit. I feel like a fool for how long I've loved you, stood beside you as you taunted the chubby kids with your soft exterior, and smooth as butter (and sometimes butter) center. Loved you as you made me feel bad about myself. Loved you even when you stood on the top shelf, just out of my reach, but not my sight. You're cruel, but I love you anyway.

I do, Snacks. Please, please — I beg you. Don't leave me ever. The sun couldn't set without the moon there to step in, just as I couldn't live without you. Don't ever say I can't have you. Don't try to make me enjoy you in moderation. I will have all of you or none of you. Anything else would be too painful. You agree, don't you, Snacks?

All or nothing when it comes to you, Snacks. I won't have it any other way.

You understand, don't you? I'm sorry it has to be this way. I love you too much, and maybe, just maybe, that's my problem. But, I won't talk to anyone about it, Snacks. I can only console this imminent grief with more of you. Treat my disease with that which will make me worse.

Let me know how you feel after reading these prose, and if you feel the same as I, either leave me alone forever, or meet me at the Jewel. Aisle 5. You know where to find me.

Love forever, or never,

Brigid E Marshall

HANG UPS. (At the Jewel)

HANG UPS

BY BRIGID MARSHALL

DRAFT 2

CAST

AMY – mid-twenties, disillusioned

EMMA – mid-twenties, silly

KRIS – mid-twenties, sensible

Jewel-Osco. Three girls are in the fruit aisle.

AMY I mean, exclusive hook ups are a far cry from a real relationship.

EMMA Right?

AMY Yeah. I mean. I think so. Apples?

KRIS Well, it’s not really.

EMMA Yeah, apples — What do you mean, Kris?

KRIS It’s not really that far of a cry from a real relationship. Oh, Asian pears!

AMY (Picking up Asian pears) How so, sensei?

EMMA (Buddhist-y, picking up carrots and petting them) What is real anyway?

KRIS Well, it’s exclusive, darling grasshoppers.

AMY Yeah, and?

KRIS Well, isn’t that the biggest part of what “being in a relationship” is?

EMMA No.

AMY No, I don’t think so. See, you need to like, talk about it and stuff.

KRIS Fine, then what is?

AMY Love. Or something.

KRIS So you’re not in a relationship until you’re in love?

AMY No, that’s not what I’m saying.

KRIS Then what are you saying, Confucius?

EMMA More like confusing-cius.

[EMMA high fives herself.]

KRIS You win, Emma.

AMY I’m saying, stay with me here. But. Ok. So, if you’re exclusive with someone sexually that doesn’t mean you like them as like in a boyfriend kind of way. Necessarily. You might just like them for their hot toosh.

KRIS God.

EMMA (All existential, but jokey) God?

AMY Yeah. Well, that’s what I’m saying.

KRIS You’ve seen too many movies like that fuckin’ No Strings Attached and whatev.

AMY What of it?

KRIS It’s kind of gross, Amy.

AMY Banging for pleasure?

KRIS Jesus. Yes.

EMMA I mean, I don’t think it’s a big deal, or whatever. I’m not going to judge you.

KRIS I’m not judging. I have no room to. Ugh.

EMMA So wise. But yeah, I get your point, K. But, I guess I just…don’t necessarily…agree?

KRIS That wasn’t a question. Stop upturning your statements.

EMMA (Upturning on purpose) OK?

AMY Well that’s because of Jim.

KRIS Oh, la la! Jiiiim.

EMMA Shut up. (Completely changing subject) I wish I had those tiny Asian lady shoes.

KRIS The ones made of wood and stuff?

AMY Like the ones they wore on the Chipmunks? – Stop changing the subject.

AMY/KRIS Jiiiiim!

EMMA Shut up.

KRIS/AMY SH’UP!

AMY I don’t think so. Jiiiiim!

EMMA Seriously. We are not in a relationship, unless relationship means never sleeping over and getting texts at 12am and answering them like an idiot.

AMY Or maybe that just makes you someone who just understands the thing of it, and wants some booty, too?

KRIS But don’t you want more than just booty, Em?

EMMA Yeah.

KRIS Well, then, change the relationship.

EMMA Easier said than done.

AMY Yeah, what a greeeeat suggestion, Kris.

KRIS I’m only saying you can’t expect the relationship to change if you don’t change.

AMY WISE SENSEI!

KRIS (Does something dumb physically, like bowing too emphatically) The wisest!

AMY Fortune cookie, Sensei.

EMMA/KRIS/AMY (All bow to each other repeatedly repeating over and over) WISE SENSEI, SO WISE, kanichiwa, etc.

KRIS Wait. Stop. You’re just a booty call if you’re not in a relationship, even if it’s exclusive. OK?

EMMA/AMY WISE SENSEI, SO WISE, Kanichiwa, etc.

KRIS This turned real quick.

(Black out.)