GOK Final project script

(Final project for my Elements of Playwriting class. Had to write a script involving Georgia O'keeffe. It was really fun. Oh, just so you know, the story goes middle, end, beginning, and loops back into the original conversation. Alot of the quotes are from various sources that GOK said herself. I was trying to get across that it wasn't the person, it was the ideas that the person had that were of importance. Oh, and the setting is two men in a mortuary preparing the body for the embalming process (Shut up- I know that she was cremated).)

Final Project Script
Quantrale Amos

Kevin: It doesn’t matter if the color is absolutely right; it matters if the picture feels right.
O’ Roarke: The Hell? Isn’t that going against what your first said?
Kevin: Old man, you just don’t get it do you? How old are you anyways? 60, 70 thousand?
O’ Roarke: Old man my ass. I was born January 7th, 1930 can you do the math? Probably not, bony lil’ whippersnapper.
Kevin: Whippersna… (wtf?) Anyways, course I can. Just because I’m not old as dirt like you doesn’t mean that I’m stupid or anything. I *am* a doctor.
O’ Roarke: So’s that idiot Regan. Trickledown economics my ass. Poor excuse for blatant capitalism ideology, you ask me.
Kevin: Don’t look at me, I didn’t vote for him.
O’ Roarke: Got the brain capacity to‘ve, that’s for sure. Probably have your checks pre-signed so you don’t screw up and crack under the pressure of remembering your name while buying one of those hippity hop LE Cool Juice cassette tapes.
Kevin: First off, it’s HIP- HOP, and its LL Cool J, soon to be the Greatest of All Time. Secondly, ya know what? So what if I use pre-signed checks? I rarely sign anything, and it’s not because I’m an idiot. My pens always dry out in the desert heat. I hate the sun.
O’ Roarke: Which explains why you live in Albuquerque.
Kevin: Christ, you’re just like my wife. You’re both real smartasses. At least you don’t bitch and wine.  That’s all she does. “Kevin, all you do is work. Kevin, drop the kids off at school.  Kevin, you don’t pay enough attention to me. Kevin, stop painting and take me snorkeling.”
O’ Roarke: Snorkeling?
Kevin: Snorkeling, shopping, something like that, I wasn’t really payin attention. The point is: Thelma is just like her parents. They never approved of me. Maybe all old people are like you, Mr. I’m-so-old-I’m-gonna-be-on-this-table-next-week.
O’ Roarke: Probably outlive you, whippersnapper. I’m going to try and live to be one hundred.
Kevin: TRY being the keyword. When you turning one hundred? Tuesday? …Christ, you’re digging all the way down to the bone, you know that?
O’ Roarke: You have to in order to get the clean incisions around the aorta.
Kevin: Whatever, old man.

*Silence*

Kevin: Speaking of wives, how’s the second divorce goin’?
O’ Roarke: It was a pretty good settlement when it was first proposed, but it was pretty worthless by the time I paid my legal bills. Didn’t help that my lawyer was a soulless snake in the grass.
Kevin: Aren’t all of them soulless snakes in the grass?
O’ Roarke: Sure seems that way. Snakier than my first divorce lawyer, Mr. Fondlebottom, and he tried to gyp me outta 120% the going rate. But I’m not even mad at that. Both times, I’ve been worn out by the divorce process itself. There’s no way anything can pay for eight years wasted like that. It was a Kafkaesque game, and I’m sure my life was shortened by it.
Kevin: That’s never good.
O’ Roarke: Neither is being estranged to a stripper for almost a decade that you left your first wife for, that’s for damn sure.
I thought you said she was an artist.
O’ Roarke: Pole artist, in more ways than one.
Kevin: I REALLY don’t need to hear about the sexual escapades of a bengay encrusted old geezer.
O’ Roarke: Ha ha, whippersnapper. You know, you still never answered my question.
Kevin: What question?
O’ Roarke: How old am I?
Kevin: I saw your signed copy of the bible in the office, so I’m guessing…
O’ Roarke: I knew it.
Kevin: April 13th, 1986 from January 7th, 1930 roughly translates into 56 years, 3 months, and 6 days.
O’ Roarke: Aha! I knew it! Date today is the 14th, not the 13th. Thought of everything but that, huh, whippersnapper?
Kevin: Whatever, old man.

*Silence*

Kevin: I finished another painting before I came into work today.
O’ Roarke: Did you now? What’s it of? New Age Politically Charged Abstract Impressionism of demonically themed religious figureheads?
Kevin: No that was the last one. This time I went for something different. I painted a landscape.
O’ Roarke:  A landscape?
Kevin: A simple landscape. Well, actually there’s nothing simple about it.
O’ Roarke: What’s that coming sideways outta your mouth? All you gotta do is slap a sky, mountains, and a ground on canvas. Easy as that.
Kevin: Sounds like the rationalization of someone who’s never picked up a brush in his life.
O’ Roarke: Why do you do it? You and I both know you’re a terrible artist.
Kevin: Doctor said it’d keep my blood pressure down. Relaxing without feeling like you’ve accomplished nothin’. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my style. I don’t go for detail, I go for color depth.
O’ Roarke: The hell’s color depth?
Kevin: I know I can’t  perfectly render a sun on the dessert in a bright summer morning or even paint an actual flower, but through terms of paint color I can convey to you my experience of the flower or the experience that makes the flower of significance to me at that particular time.
O’ Roarke: …What? Cut out with all that hippie talk, Whippersnapper. Do something productive and check the sheet. Who’s on the table this morning?
Kevin: Umm…someone named O’Keefe. Just wait a second, gramps, don’t cut me short- I was being serious!
O’ Roarke: Alright, since there’s not a single body in this mortuary that can hold a decent conversation, present company excluded, I’ll humor you. What about that painting of the horses in shades of blue against the purple sky? Those colors were all wrong weren’t they?
Kevin: It doesn’t matter if the color is absolutely right; it matters if the picture feels right.
O’ Roarke: The Hell? Isn’t that going against what your first said?
Kevin: Old man, you just don’t get it do you? *fades out*