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The action takes place inside the shape room at the distribution facility for The Daily Mirror in Hunts Point, the Bronx. It’s one of the oldest newspapers still in circulation in the United States, serving New York City and the entire metro area.
At the shape, union and non- union truck drivers come to bid on any "open" jobs that are available for the night or week. They do so according to the order of their status: steady man, one list, two list and three list, also known as casuals. A world within itself of backstabbing, side hustles, fragile alliances, and mob affiliations
(Skip if read before and go to Scene below. For new readers previous scenes are available in my archives)
SETTING: The shape room at the distribution facility for The Daily Mirror in Hunts Point, the Bronx; outdated lounge chairs, a dingy couch and a beat-up coffee table. A phone hangs on the back wall, upstage center. There is a booth the size of a walk-in closet, downstage left; the upper half glass (sliding) and the bottom half scratched-up wood paneling. To the right is a rickety kitchen table with black office chairs. All the furnishings look like they were picked from a dumpster. A large projection screen is suspended high above the setting, center.
Sending/ outgoing text messages will be indicated by a SNAP (sound), followed by the text on the screen appearing in bold Italics. Incoming/ receiving text messages will be indicated by a WHISTLE (sound), followed by the text on the screen appearing in bold Italics. All other social media text will be indicated on screen in bold Italics, using different sounds to distinguish.
ACT I-SCENE 2
AT RISE: Shape room, one hour later. Tommy D, Irish, Hop Lei, Tats and E are still preoccupied with their cell phones, as they anxiously wait to hear from Fat-Boy Ang for work to come down for the night.
Tommy D sends a text… SNAP.
“Gots... u gonna answer me back or what? “
E: It's been an hour and nothing... nada.
HOP LEI: Ay! Dios mío!
TATS: How am I going to feed my babies like this? It sucks never knowing when we're gonna work.
IRISH: How long we gotta wait?
TOMMY D: Until Fat-Boy says it's up.
E: (pacing) I'm claiming the day, man.
HOP LEI: Me too. Shots be treating us like punk ass bitches.
TATS: I'm wit' ya'll. He can't be doin' that shit.
IRISH: I want to claim a day.
TOMMY D: (to Irish) No, no, no! You don't even know what it is. You get paid a shift if you get jumped in the shape unfairly like Shots did. Union rules. The company has to pay ya if they screw up the shape order.
IRISH: How the hell you all gonna do that when you all passed at the window?
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