Scene opens with Richard sitting in a chair, with an acorn in one hand and a hammer in the other. He is looking down at the acorn.
You are a tree’s crap And father called you my future…
Richard Raises a hammer, hesitates, puts the hammer back down.
You know… dad and I used to collect acorns. Every single Sunday, we would wake up early, go into the woods, to hunt, and collect acorns. It was his thing. It was our thing. Although, I was never a big fan of hunting. Even cried the first time he I saw him shoot. It was a pheasant, stupid little thing, wandered too close to our picnic.
It was the thing we looked forward to every week. I got to be away from home, school, stress, him arguing with mom… We’re not church people, so this is our holy ritual.
We always did this thing, before we left to go back home. He takes an acorn from the last time we were there, and gives it to me. I chuck it into the pond: the past… Then he gives me another one. Telling me to cherish it. To keep it: the future.
This went on for years, until my father gave me you.
I never got a chance to chuck you into the pond.
The man was gone. He left, running like a coward from his life, his struggles, leaving his son and wife behind with nothing but despair, confusion, anger and you.
What did my father leave me?
The droppings of an oak tree?
Or my future?
He left me a future.
A future without my father.