Scene 2

Seth flopped down on the ragged couch in their musty wood-paneled basement den. He peeled off the enormous Mark Twain mustache with a sigh of relief, glanced around, and stuck it on a mannequin in a fur-trimmed broad brim pimp hat to keep it from getting lost in the avalanche of decorations and costume bits that covered the walls and filled most of the surfaces in the room. Seth had performed in almost every theatrical production at West Elm High and had a starring role in many of them. Now, solidly into his Senior year, he had enough pull with the school's Drama Department that his opinions about dialogue and creative direction were usually heard and incorporated into their shows. Their current production, Enemies Abound, was already cast and well into rehearsal. It was the first of his scripts to be approved by their exacting Drama teacher, Mr. Haverty.

Jonesy sank into the usual ragged recliner that he had claimed as his own since early middle school, despite it being in his friend's house. They had all gathered in this room for years to relax, gossip, smoke a little pot, and generally recharge from their busy lives. He smiled as he looked around, satisfied to have made it back to a safe place after paranoid slinking through the dark streets of their neighborhood. He kept his costume's main accessory, an authentic TarGard cigarette holder, Hunter S. Thompson's trademark accessory along with his iconic Aviator sunglasses, clamped firmly between his teeth. The cigarette had fallen out somewhere during their frantic run from the party.

Travis and Francine were both packed into the small