End of the Line

End of the Line
(Joe sits inside of a train car. The train is moving, you can see images go by threw the windows. Joe is looking down reading a news paper. The cover of the paper is of a old man who looks like Mark Twain. Joe looks at the audience)
Joe: My imagination gets the best of me sometimes. When I was a kid I thought the people on TV where real so I smashed my head through the screen to try and meet them. I once thought that there where monsters under my bed, so I through ten M-80’s under it. Burned down half my house. So now I stuck here. Waiting to get off. The sad part is, in my head, I might never get off. This train might never stop and I will be stuck here an eternity. It’s not that hard to imagine.
After my dad died, my mom started moving me and my brother across country in her broken station wagon. We only went to sunny places because it had no roof in the back. I don’t know how it got torn off, but I think that is how she got it so cheap. MY brother and I we used to lie down in the back and look at the clouds. At first I saw thing like dogs kangaroos in the clouds. My brother just saw clouds. He didn’t have an imagination.
My brother died of skin cancer when he was 14. Too much sun. I was hunted by the thought that it could have been me that died. He was my twin, no reason that I couldn’t have died. My mother and I still drove across the country. The clouds started to look like sharks and demons so I didn’t look at them anymore.
I work as an artist. I draw the covers of since fiction novels. The really bad ones with the big aliens on the cover, or cyborgs on the cover or maybe alien cyborgs on the cover. The kind that the only people that read them are the ones who are terrible crosses of nerds and nutcases. I like the job because I don’t have to leave the house that much. I leave the house rarely. Once a week. I visit my family’s graves. I take this train. Every time I get on this train I think it might crash and I really will visit my family. I’ll be buried right next to them.
(The train door opens)
But ever time that door opens I get to imagine that when I walk out and see their graves they will still be alive and waiting for me. I know what they would tell me. They would say that I need to go out and live my life. That is the one thing I can’t imagine and that’s sad.
But I hope one day I can go out and stop being afraid and see the clouds again.