fight

You tear me down with those looks
You rip me up with those hooks
Hook, line and sinker I believe you again
And the world comes crashing down
As the blood rushes to my head
I bought your lies again
And there’s no one left to fight you for me

I’ll push you up against the wall
and force the words back down your throat
I’m not as worthless as you make me feel
I didn’t fight this hard and come this far
to let you push me around
But you, you will try and try
To beat me to the ground
Force the blade back to my throat
And make me think that nothing matters

You abuse this power you have on me
Build me up just to knock me down again
And your laughter echos in my dreams
As my blood begins to boil
And my heart begins to race
I can’t fight this feeling in me
Do you like seeing me die in front of you?

I’ll push you up against the wall
and force the words back down your throat
I’m not as worthless as you make me feel
I didn’t fight this hard and come this far
to let you push me around
But you, you will try and try
To beat me to the ground
Force the blade back to my throat
And make me think that nothing matters

This is all in my head
This is not real in my head
This is not what’s suppose to be
This is not the way the story ends
This is all in my head
This is not what I want
This is not what’s going to be true
This is not how the story’s gonna end

Cause no one will fight for me
Die for me, light a candle for me
Watch it burn for me
Your concern for me
Is not real to me!

I’ll push you up against the wall
and force the words back down your throat
I’m not as worthless as you make me feel
I didn’t fight this hard and come this far
to let you push me around
But you, you will try and try
To beat me to the ground
Force the blade back to my throat
And make me think that nothing matters

And nothing matters,
And nothing matters…behind Donna.

JOSH: What’s going on?

DONNA: How should I know?

JOSH: Would you call Leo’s office and find out what’s going on, and, more important, how long it’s going to be going on for?

DONNA: They’re probably scared. You might try lightening up a little bit.

JOSH: Yeah, I’ll definitely give that a try.

Josh and Donna follow the rest of the kids into the mess. Josh stands in front of the kids and addresses them.

JOSH: Okay, well, uh, this is called a “crash.” It means there’s been some kind of security breach and no one’s allowed in or out of the building.

Josh turns around, smacking his hands together nervously, and looks at Donna, who is standing behind him.

JOSH: Would you call Leo’s office?

Donna goes off to a side room, and picks up a phone.

JOSH: So, I guess we should use this time. Uh, this is the White House, the home of the President and the Executive Branch, the most powerful of the three branches of the federal government.

One of the students raises his hand to ask a question.

JOSH: Yeah.

BILLY: Actually, Mr. Lyman, isn’t it true that the Framers made sure that the Executive Branch was the weakest of the three branches? Because we were breaking off from the royalist model that put absolute power in just one place. I mean, isn’t that why they made the Legislative branch-or People’s Branch-the most powerful?

Josh stops in front of Billy, and acts vaguely menacing, a little smirk on his face, and Donna can be seen reentering in the background.

JOSH: What’s your name?

BILLY: [with a slight hesitation] I’m Billy Fernandez.

JOSH: I’ll call you Fred. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. I don’t know how long we’re all going to be here, but you just made my list.

Billy smiles, and Josh walks off, continuing.

JOSH: Yes, I suppose, technically, constitutionally the Legislative Branch is the most powerful, but we get a motorcade, so back off. All right, you already know about the branches of government, I assume you know how a bill becomes a law. What do you want to talk about?

The kids make no response, they seem nervous.

JOSH: Guys, seriously, it’s nothing to worry about. We’ve been having these crashes once a week. Let’s go. Somebody ask me something.

A girl pipes up from the group.

GIRL 1: So… what’s the deal with everybody trying to kill you?

JOSH: Well… it’s not everybody, and they’re trying to kill you, too.

GIRL 1: But mostly you.

JOSH: No, both of us the same. Let’s go, it doesn’t have to be about politics. You’re off to college. I’m the guy who knows what you need to know. Sophomore year, my roommates and I got a fish registered for 18 credits, and she made Dean’s List. My roommates and I made a Dean’s List of a different sort, but that doesn’t matter.

Another boy, behind Billy, pipes up.

BOY 1: Do you get scared coming to work at the White House?

JOSH: No. I mean, we’re bystanders, basically, and we work around a lot of people who routinely put themselves in harm’s way-the Secret Service and the military. You know, the protection detail? They practice a thousand different scenarios for a gun: who tackles the president, who opens the car, who’s covering the perimeter, and there’s one guy whose job it is to stand in front of the bullet. Not get the shooter-stand in front of the bullet. I’ve seen him do it.

GIRL 1: Do you ever think about quitting?

JOSH: No. [hesitates for a moment, and continues] Well… my, uh… my mother wants me to. My family members have a habit of, uh, dying before you’re supposed too. So it’s just me and my mom now and… You guys know I guess, that I got accidentally shot a little bit or something at Rosslyn. So, she’d like to see me in the private sector. But I tell her my government salary may not be a lot, but I still make more than the guy whose job it is to stand in front of the bullet, so how do I tell him I’m quitting? So she made me this box that I’m supposed to keep in the trunk of my car, and it’s got a super-powered flashlight, five gallons of water, and a transistor radio, and some first aid. But she keeps thinking of things to add to it. She’ll call and say, uh, “I found that cap that Dad got Joe Pepitone to sign for you on your birthday. You wore it to school every day in the seventh grade. You want me to send it to you so you can put it in the box?”

Josh has trailed off a bit, and stops for a moment, looking sad and serious. He looks around the room for a moment. He starts up again, livelier.

JOSH:So… I’ll say “Yeah, Ma, let’s put it in the box.”

Josh gives a little chuckle. He walks over, leaning against something by the wall.

JOSH: So anyway, I… I don’t know against who, and I don’t know what it’s going to look like, but one of these days we’re gonna have a big win, and for a lot of us who’ve seen what we’ve seen, we’re not leaving till we do. I’m gonna be here six presidents from now, in my office, Wile E. Coyote and a map.

GIRL 2: So why is everybody trying to kill us?

JOSH: It’s not everybody.

GIRL 2: It seems like everybody.

BOY 2: It’s just the Arabs.

BOY 1: Saying the Arabs is too general.

BOY 2: It’s Islamic.

JOSH: It’s not Arabs. It’s not Islamics. [to Donna] They’re juniors and seniors?

DONNA: Yes.

JOSH: You’re juniors and seniors. [heads over to a dry erase board across the room] In honor of the SAT’s you’re about to take, answer the following question.

He erases the board, and Donna hands him a marker.

JOSH: Thanks. Islamic extremist is to Islamic as “blank” is to Christianity.

Josh writes this on the board as he speaks it again to the kids.

JOSH: Islamic… extremist… is to… Islamic… as… “blank” is… to Christianity.

BOY 2: Christian Fundamentalists.

JOSH: No.

BOY 3: Jehovah’s Witnesses?

JOSH: No. Guys, the Christian right may not be your cup of tea, but they’re not blowing stuff up. “Islamic extremist is to Islam as blank is to Christianity.”

No one responds. Josh turns around and writes “KKK” on the dry erase board, and circles it.

JOSH: That’s what we’re talking about. It’s the Klan, gone medieval and global. It couldn’t have less to do with Islamic men and women of faith of whom there are millions upon millions. Muslims defend this country in the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, National guard, police and fire departments. So, let’s ask the question again.

GIRL 1: Why are Islamic Extremists trying to kill us?

JOSH: That’s a reasonable question if ever I heard one. Why are we targets of war?

BOY 2: Because we’re Americans.

JOSH: That’s it?

GIRL 3: Because of our freedom?

JOSH: No other reasons?

BOY 3: Freedom and democracy.

JOSH: I’ll tell you, right or wrong-and I think they’re wrong-it’s probably a good idea to acknowledge that they do have specific complaints. I-I hear them every day-the people we support, troops in Saudi Arabia, sanctions against Iraq, support for Egypt. It’s not just that they don’t like Irving Berlin.

DONNA: Yes, it is.

JOSH: No, it’s not.

DONNA: No, not about Irving Berlin, but your ridiculous search for rational reasons why somebody straps a bomb to their chest is ridiculous.

JOSH: You just called me ridiculous twice in one sentence.

DONNA: Hardly a record for me.

JOSH: And you just made my list.

DONNA: [to the kids] Nothing happens on the list.

JOSH: It’s a serious list. But she does have a point, albeit college girlish.

DONNA: Watch now, as he’s going to put me down and make my point at the exact same time.

JOSH: Hardly a record for me. What’s Islamic extremism? It’s strict adherence to a particular interpretation of 7th century Islamic law as practiced by the prophet Mohammed, and when I say “strict adherence,” I’m not kidding around. Men are forced to pray, wear their beards a certain length. Among my favorites is there’s only one acceptable cheer at a soccer match: Allah-uh-Akbar-God is great. If your guys are getting creamed, then you’re on your own. Things are a lot less comic for women, who aren’t allowed to attend school or have jobs. They’re not allowed to be unaccompanied, and oftentimes get publicly stoned to death for crimes like not wearing a veil. I don’t have to tell you they don’t need to shout at a soccer match because they’re never going to go to one. So what bothers them about us? Well, the variety of cheers alone coming from the cheap seats at Giants stadium when they’re playing the Cowboys is enough for a jihad, to say nothing of street corners lined church next to synagogue, next to mosque, newspapers that can print anything they want, women who can do anything they want including taking a rocket ship to outer space, vote, and play soccer. This is a plural society. That means we accept more than one idea. It offends them. So yes, she does have a point, but that certainly doesn’t mean you should listen to her.

GIRL 3: So… what do we do now?

JOSH: What?

GIRL 3: What do we do now?

JOSH: Well, I think for help with that question we’re going to need some people smarter than I am.

DONNA: Definitely.

JOSH: Thing is… that’s pretty tough to find. But I’m going to go upstairs and see if I can get some of my friends to come down and join us. Listen, I-I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know how long we’re going to be here. Are you guys hungry?

GIRL 1: Yeah.

JOSH: Freddy, why don’t you grab a couple of people, go to the back of the kitchen, get apples and peanut butter? Guys, I’ve gotten entire pieces of legislation through Congress on apples and peanut butter. I’ll be back in a little bit.

Josh exits the mess.

CUT TO: INT. A DARKENED OFFICE ROOM – NIGHT

5:22 PM, OLD EXECUTIVE OFFICE BUILDING.

A man, clearly of Arab decent, sits by a window, smoking a cigarette.

Out in the HALLWAY, Ron Butterfield and four other Secret Service men walk quickly to the room where the man is. The man continues to smoke, until he hears the doorknob to the room rattling behind him, and he tosses his cigarette out the window. A Secret Service agent kicks in the door, gun drawn for firing. The agents hurry into the room, and the man looks startled.

AGENT 1: Secret Service, don’t move!

RON: Show us your hands. Do it now.

The man puts his hands up. He is clearly frightened.

RON: Are you Raqim Ali?

RAQIM ALI: Yes. The-there’s-

RON: Stay calm. I’m Special Agent Ron Butterfield of the United States Secret Service. Keep your hands over your head and step away from the window. We’re going to ask you some questions.

FADE OUT.
END ACT ONE