Scenes from a parallel universe; FF8: Part 2
by KaiserVonAlmasy

SCENE 7: Fujin is a Punk Rocker, Fujin is a Punk Rocker, Fujin is a Punk Rocker now

[Fujin’s dormitory room. She is dressed as before. She is looking at herself in the mirror. In her hands, a black eye patch, the sort that would be suitable for a pirate costume.]

[Enter Raijin, also dressed as before. He enters quickly and quietly, as what he’s doing is frowned upon very heavily after hours. Male and female students are not supposed to be commingling in each others’ dorms after dark like this. But then, Fujin and Raijin play by their own rules, nobody else’s.]

Raijin: Sorry I’m late.


Raijin: [quietly] Sorry. What are you up to?

Fujin: I’m thinking about wearing an eye patch.

Raijin: Why?

Fujin: Just for the hell of it. It would definitely turn some heads, wouldn’t it?

Raijin: Yeah. But everybody would start bugging you and asking you about what happened to your other eye all the time. It would get annoying.

Fujin: Maybe. You’re probably right. But it would be so fun to screw with people and tell them all disparate stories about what happened. You know, let all these conflicting rumors circulate around, let everybody argue over it.

Raijin: You wouldn’t mind everybody talking about you behind your back?

Fujin: Well, you know, Wilde once said “Only one thing is worse than being talked about, and that’s not being talked about.”

Raijin: Which play is that from?

Fujin: I believe it’s from his novel, actually. Picture of Dorian Gray. Have you ever read it?

Raijin: No.

Fujin: Highly recommend it. It’s on my shelf over there, you can borrow it.

Raijin: Well, what would you do if people started asking to take a peek at what it looked like under the patch?

[Fujin laughs. Then, turning from the mirror to look directly at Raijin, she adopts a menacing scowl.]

Fujin: RAGE.

[They both share a laugh.]

Fujin: Besides, they’ll probably be more freaked out by my new uniform. Check it out.

[She pulls open her closet door to reveal a light blue military uniform; specifically, the infamous uniform of the GG, Galbadia’s secret elite military police unit within the general army, and the most feared and reviled unit in Galbadia’s occupation forces during their most recent war of expansion. The atrocities they committed in the name of their duty are still talked about with fear and loathing.]

Raijin: You aren’t seriously going to start wearing that, are you?

Fujin: And the armband!

Raijin: People would probably take that the wrong way.

Fujin: Hm. Maybe you’re right. Still, it would be shocking.

Raijin: That’s true.

Fujin: It would be the truly Punk thing to do.

Raijin: You going to do it?

Fujin: Probably not. Well, maybe on Halloween. Now, what about the eye patch?

[She puts the eye patch on.]

Fujin: What do you think?

[Raijin steps up to Fujin.]

Raijin: It looks cool. [He embraces her.] But I don’t like only being able to see one of your eyes. [He takes the eye patch off and kisses her flush on the lips.]

[Fujin giggles and pushes him away.]

Fujin: Cut it out! I’m serious. [Her laugh indicates otherwise.] Wait. Do you really think my eyes are that pretty?

Raijin: Of course I do.

Fujin: Hah. Mr. Smooth. C’mere.

[They kiss again, playfully. Awwww, how cute.]

Fujin: So, no eye patch.

Raijin: Nah.

Fujin: All right. Now get out of here before you get busted.

[Fade Out.]

SCENE 8: Everybody Hurts, Sometimes

[Irvine is in his dorm. He’s taken the coat and tie of his suit off, and untied his hair, but still looks much more formal than his classmates. He is sitting on the edge of his bed, reading some self help book filled with tips on making friend and influencing people and getting ahead in the business world or something to that effect.]

[He’s taking copious notes on it, too.]

Irvine: It all sounds so simple in this book. I wonder what I’m doing wrong? I mean, I follow all the tips. Everybody at garden should like me, but everybody hates me. Why? I’m doing the right thing! I’m helping everybody! What I’m doing is for everybody’s own good. There are rules in this world and we all have to learn to play by them eventually, and it’s better to learn them now while we’re still in school. I’m really just trying to help. Why doesn’t anybody see that? Squall is just so obnoxious. He’s a bad influence on everybody. And a distraction. Not just to me, not just to all of them, but he’s sabotaging himself, too. It’s not like I’m some petty vindictive little boy who’s trying to get everybody back for personal injuries.

Even though, it does hurt when I get excluded. Sometimes I wish something bad would happen to them. I guess that isn’t right. I know that. But it’s just so frustrating! They’ve never really liked me. I’ve tried hard. I try my best. But none of them have ever respected me, never included me, not ever! Especially not the girls.

It isn’t fair that I’m not part of the in-crowd. They accept everybody else for who they are. They’re all different; they’re all weird in their own way, but how come they only judge me by what’s on the outside? Everyone else gets to be judged by their internal character! But not me! I just get judged by how I look and how I talk.

It makes me so angry. I just want to lash out sometimes. I really do like those people, I think they’re really cool, but they don’t ever notice me except to criticize me. I want to be their friend. I really do. But they won’t let me. I only have one course of action after that, and then when I take it, they yell at me and make fun of me even more! Like I’m the bad guy!

I hate this garden. Maybe I should get transferred, and start over somewhere else. No, it probably wouldn’t matter. The same thing would probably just happen all over again.

[Fade Out.]

SCENE 9: Yo Mama

[Squall, at home (he lives off-campus), in the kitchen. He’s getting his mad cooking skills on, in the form of laying the peanut butter down thick on two pieces of white bread, and then he brings them together like rap and metal on the “Judgment Night” film soundtrack.]

Squall: Man, that is so wack! I can’t believe Sid snatched my boom box, yo!

[Enter Laguna from upstairs, followed closely by Kiros and Ward-Head. They’ve come down to watch TV. Laguna wears a denim jacket, black t-shirt, and brown slacks. Kiros wears gray shorts and a Metallica T-shirt. Ward-Head wears red shorts and an AC/DC T-shirt.]

Squall: Yo dawgs, what up?

Ward-Head: [Laughter] We’re going to, like, watch TV, and stuff. [Laughter]

Kiros: Yeah. [Laughter]

[They go to the TV room. Exit Kiros and Ward-Head.]

Laguna: What’s bothering you, Squall?


Laguna: You can tell me, Squall. You can tell me anything. After all… [Begins breathing in and out in a deliberately loud, overdramatic, and curiously familiar fashion] Squall, I am your father!

Squall: Man, cut that out! That’s wack!

Laguna: But I really am your father!

Squall: Naw, dawg, I just live witcha cuz you was tight with my real dad.

Laguna: No, actually, you see, that was all just an elaborate cover so that you would wander the world and bounce from orphanage to orphanage and eventually end up a student at Balamb Garden so that you could master the art of using the Gunblade and lead an elite cadre of crack troops into a battle to save the world from an evil sorceress trying to destroy the world and warp the very fabric of space-time into such a macabre perversion of its former self that nothing could survive in the new universe except her. I really am your father, but I had to give you up and abandon you in order for you to fulfill your destiny as a mighty warrior. And dropper of the most dope rhymes on the West Side.

Squall: You Know! But, um, if you really be my dad, den, who’s my mom?

Laguna: Well, son...I don’t know, I macked so many girls in my day that I lost count, it could’ve been any of them!

Squall & Laguna, simultaneously: Awww Yeah! [They do some elaborate secret handshake gesture.]

Squall: Seriously though, who was my mom?

Laguna: A woman named Raine.

Squall: Was she hot?

Laguna: She was beautiful. And nurturing, and intelligent, and strong of will…just…everything.

Squall: Did she have da flow, or did I get that from you?

Laguna: Well, nobody really listened to hip-hop back then, so I don’t know. Wouldn’t surprise me, though, if that comes from her side. She was so amazing. She could do anything.

Squall: Where she at now?

Laguna: She’s dead, actually. I’m sorry.

Squall: Oh.

Laguna: She would have loved you, though. She’d be proud of how you’ve turned out. And you would have loved her too. She was probably the coolest person I’ve ever met.

Squall: Cooler even than your homies?

[From off-stage, Kiros and Ward-Head talk back at the TV.]

Ward-Head: [laughter] Uh, this sucks. [laughter]

Kiros: Yeah. [laughter] Change the channel Ward-Head.

Ward-Head: Uh… [laughter] No way. [laughter] I’m going to make you watch this, Kiros. [laughter]

Kiros: Cut it out, bunghole! Change it!

Ward-Head: Uh, shut up, Fart-knocker! You’re, like, talking over the video. [laughter]

[They begin to brawl with each other, off-stage, making a great deal of violent noise.]

Laguna: [shaking his head] Much, much cooler.

[Fade Out.]

SCENE 10: Selphie’s Diary

[Selphie, in her dorm, asleep, at night. Of course, she really is wide awake at night and asleep during the day, because she is one of the Kindred, but in order to shield herself from persecution by the mortal automatons she must affect the illusion of conforming to a typical mortal sleep schedule. She must drink a cup of mortal’s blood every morning (it’s actually red Kool-Aid) in order to give herself immunity to sunlight, and drinks a cup of The Nectar of Nosferatu in order to put her to sleep at night (Dr. Pepper).]

[Her diary lays open to a random page on her desk, surrounded by a ring of candles. Its pages contain a series of poems. Let’s sneak a peek, shall we?]

“Alone and Dead”
By Mephistina Booyaka of the Seventh Clan of Alucard (known as Selphie Tilmitt to the mortals)

Alone. Miserable and Alone
In a vacuous pit inhabited by automatons
Unaware of the depths of their own shallowness
I will kill myself before I become like them
Cold and Dead
I experience the living death of this world
One of the blessed few who know the truth
And are persecuted for it by those who are blind
They are stupid and blind.

“Beelzebub Rising”
By Mephistina Booyaka of the Seventh Clan of Alucard (known as Selphie Tilmitt to the mortals)

Ever darkly into the ebon abyss of feral eyes,
Against the groping fingers of my black obsessive passion,
For I have given of my soul to Lucifer The Light-Bearer
To gain protection from the clones
That strangles all true existence and life on earth
Mindless slaves to their corporate masters
He will destroy them all
And we his children shall rule the night.


[Fade Out.]

{For more fun with paint-by-numbers Goth poetry, try a search for “Goth Poetry” using your web browser. I used for a little inspiration, and in fact the first half of Selphie’s second poem is taken almost ver batum from the “tips” page of said site [] . But there are a lot of sites out there dedicated to this often hilariously bad and hyper-pretentious poetry genre. So go out and find it. Well, finish reading my play first.}

SCENE 11: The Plot Thickens, Albeit Slightly

[The next day, in the Balamb Garden’s gym. Specifically, in the weight room. Zell, in standard issue p.e. suit (reversible red-blue ventilated T-shirt and black shorts), is pumping the proverbial iron, bench-pressing a sufficiently macho amount of weight. On the other side of the weight room, two loud, obnoxious, ape-like jocks are enthralled by the shiny new medicine balls and their bouncy quality as they propel them towards each other. Or, more specifically, towards the boy with the short blond hair who has the poor misfortune of being situated between them. It’s Seifer, and he simply wants to be left alone while he does his curls with the lower level dumbbells. But, being what they are, the apes won’t let him.]

Biggs: Hey, Almasy, catch!

[The medicine ball bounces off the right side Seifer’s head.]

Wedge: Think fast, dweeb!

[And the other medicine ball rebounds off of Seifer’s left elbow, forcing him to abort his curl attempt.]

Wedge: [laughing] What’s wrong with you, Almasy, can’t even complete a 5 lb. Curl? What a weenie!

[The Jocks begin to join in a joint chorus of laughter - - common social practice among the lower primates. Seifer simply sighs, resigned to another day of absorbing the abuse until they go away bored or start picking on the scrawny kid with curly red hair, freckles, and thick glasses held together by scotch tape.]

Seifer: [ASIDE, TO AUDIENCE] I’d fight back, you know, but fighting back is useless. The gym teachers are always on their side. Like right now, for example. Look at the coach, conveniently turning a blind eye to the bullying while ostensibly trying to help the girls who consider themselves too pretty to ever touch the weights tune in the local top 40 station on the class radio. Besides, it would be a waste of time and effort, anyway. I’ll be out of this hellhole in a year, and everything will be okay. No big deal. I know who I am, and I accept myself. My self-image is immune to their pathetic knuckle-dragging behavior.

[The bell rings.]

Coach: All right class, hit the showers.

[Seifer calmly puts the 5 lb. Dumbbells back, doing his best to ignore the pointing and laughing of the 180 lb. Dumbbells who enjoy pelting him with medicine balls.]

[Exit Coach, Jocks, and other students. Zell and Seifer remain.]

Zell: Hi. You’re Seifer, right?

Seifer: Yes.

Zell: Those punks pick on you a lot, don’t they?

Seifer: Yeah, they do. [sighs]

Zell: Doesn’t it bother you?

Seifer: Yes, but I can take some solace in knowing that they only pick on me because they themselves have low self-esteem and feel very insecure about their own masculinity. When people lack the ability to create for themselves, they have to destroy others to feel better about themselves. Besides, I don’t believe in revenge, or passing judgment on others. I consider that God’s business, not mine.

[Zell is utterly puzzled.]

Zell: Oh. Well, don’t you ever feel like fighting back?

Seifer: Oh, certainly, I’m only human, but it would never get me anywhere. The retaliator is always the one who gets in the most trouble. Also, I don’t want to stoop to their level. And even if I fought them off, there would be a new bully by next week, and those two would just move on to a new target, like the kid with the freckles and the curly red hair. It’s better that I get bullied than he. I can take it. It doesn’t really bother me much anymore. I know that I will be delivered from this place one day, and this period will be behind me, and then, they won’t be an issue in my life anymore. There’s no point in fighting back, really. Besides, violence never solves anything. An eye for an eye only leaves the whole world blind.

Zell: Are you sure?

Seifer: I’m sure.

Zell: Okay. Because, if you want to, I could teach you some self-defense moves. Teach them a lesson or two.

Seifer: Thank you very much for your offer, but I’m not interested.

Zell: Oh, don’t be such a Chicken-Wuss, Seifer. Look, I know how those two work. They’re only going to get worse if you don’t make a stand for yourself now. I know you think you can handle it, but this is only the tip of the iceberg. They are going to get a lot rougher if they sense they can walk all over you without some retaliation.

Seifer: Thank you for the information, but that is not my way.

Zell: Well, if you change your mind, talk to me. Okay.

Seifer: Okay. God be with you, Zell.

Zell: Yeah, sure, thanks.

[Zell starts to walk away.]

Seifer: Zell, wait.

Zell: Yeah?

Seifer: Isn’t Selphie in your homeroom class?

Zell: Who, the Goth girl? Yeah. Why?

Seifer: Oh, I bumped into her yesterday accidentally when I was running to class. She dropped her notebook, and one of the loose-leaf papers fell out. It has a few of her poems on it. Would you return it to her for me?

Zell: Uh, sorry, I think you better take care of that yourself, Seifer. She’d probably think I stole it or something. I don’t want to get her angry with me. She’s kind of weird, she might do something really extreme.

Seifer: Yes, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I shouldn’t show it to you, anyway. It seems like very personal poetry, and she didn’t give me permission to let you look at it. Actually, she didn’t give me permission, either. I only found it after she walked away. I know it wasn’t my business, but I figured it would be better if I picked it up and kept it to myself, rather than let someone else pick it up and spread it around.

Zell: Yeah, like Irvine. He’d probably rat her off to the Headmaster and say it was proof she was plotting to kill us all or something.

[Zell laughs.]

Seifer: I really don’t think that is anything to joke about.

Zell: Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry. But it seems like the kind of thing Irvine would do.

Seifer: I agree.

Zell: That kid has some real social problems.

Seifer: He is probably simply misunderstood. Maybe he feels as though he’s been rejected by us, his peers, and the lack of acceptance makes him feel trapped into a certain life path, which requires him to be spiteful. [Pause.] Also, I don’t think Selphie is the sort of person who would go on a violent rampage. I feel you’re simply judging her by her dark appearance. I probably should not say this, but her poetry reveals a completely different side to her. I really would like to get to know her better.

Zell: You like her, don’t you? [ASIDE, TO AUDIENCE] Well, I suppose there has to be someone for everybody. [TO SEIFER] Hey, that reminds me. If you’re thinking about getting with her, well, you might have some competition.

Seifer: Oh?

Zell: Yeah. Squall.

Seifer: [drained of enthusiasm] Oh.

Zell: Yeah. Yesterday at lunch, he made a bet with Quistis that he could get any girl in Garden to go with him to the dance. He challenged her to name any girl, and he would ask her out and, so the bet goes, get her to go with him to the dance.

Seifer: Does she know about this?

Zell: Probably not. Pretty high stakes bet, actually. If Squall loses, Quistis gets to pick his wardrobe for a week.

Seifer: And if he doesn’t?

Zell: Ah! [laughs] That one is a classic! If he does convince Selphie to go to the dance with him, then Quistis has to… [sudden pause, as he remembers Quistis’ wager], never mind. I forgot.

[Awkward silence.]

Zell: Catch ya later, Seifer. And remember, if you want to learn some moves...

[Fade out.]

SCENE 12: Donde Esta La Biblioteca? (Wo ist die Bibliotek?)

[The Library. Xu is sitting at a table with a small tower of chemistry books stacked to one side. Another chemistry book lays open in front of her. She is reading it quietly.]

[Enter Nida, also quietly.]

Nida: [whisper] Hi.

Xu: [also whispering] Hi.

[Nida takes a seat. They continue to whisper for the rest of the scene. I’m mentioning this now so that I don’t have to type [whisper] in front of every line for the next page or two. It’s tedious as hell, slows down my flow, and threatens my enthusiasm level in general. So remember they’re whispering for the rest of the scene. Anyway, so, like, Nida sits down in a quiet fashion.]

Nida: Hi.

Xu: Hi.

Nida: So, those are the chemistry books professor said to look at.

Xu: Yeah.

Nida: All right.

[Long Silence.]

Nida: I guess I better look at them, then.

Xu: Yeah.

[Nida reaches for the book on top of the stack. At the same time, Xu reaches for the book on top in order to hand it to Nida. Their hands touch. Surprised, they stare at each other. Their hands linger there, in contact. They are both incredibly embarrassed, and yet neither one really wants to pull away. Finally they pull away at the same time.]

Nida: Sorry.

Xu: Sorry.

[They both laugh nervously. And reach for the book again. Their hands touch, again.]

Nida: Sorry!

Xu: Sorry.

[Again, nervous laughter from both. Both are heavily blushing by now.]

[Again, Nida reaches to claim the book for himself, and again Xu reaches for the book so that she can politely hand the book to Nida. And, of course, again, their hands touch. They smile nervously, blush, and apologize to each other. They’ll never finish their project at this rate. Fade Out.]

SCENE 13: So You Know Something Ominous and Unfortunate is Going to Happen

SCENE 13-B: This Scene Deleted on Superstitious Grounds.

[In this scene, Head Matron Edea was possessed (again!) by an evil spirit.]

[Trust me.]

SCENE 14: The Emperor’s New Groove

[A discouraged and dejected Squall is “kickin’ it” with Fujin and Raijin after their creative writing class. Lunch hour is starting.]

Squall: Man, dis is totally wack, you know? How is I gonna hook up wit Selphie and win da bet if I don’t got my blaster, yo? I don’t want to dress like some dumb-ass boy band fool! Everybody be hatin’ on me den!

Raijin: Well, can’t you get another one? You’ve got lots of…bank, or whatever it is you call it, right?

Squall: Oh You Know! But I got my mix tape in da blaster that Sid shanked off a’ me. And dat be my only copy! It one of a kind, yo!

Fujin: Damn.

Squall: Exactly! Man, dis sucks worse den when people callin’ me Vanilla Ice!

Raijin: Well, good luck, Squall. You’ve got a quick wit, I’m sure you’ll think of something. Now if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for us to go scare the cheerleaders.

[Exit Fujin and Raijin.]

Squall: But who be I without my phat beats?

[Enter Ellone, wearing a simple gray skirt and a dark blue sweater with the Balamb Garden crest in the upper center just below the neckline. It’s the school uniform. Mandatory uniforms were repealed last year, but she still wears her uniform all the time anyway.]

Squall: [halfheartedly, as he is without his boom box and hence has lost all his macking powers] Yo.

[Ellone smiles, but says nothing. She unshoulders her backpack, pulls out a book, and hands it to Squall.]

Squall: What dis?

Ellone: It might help you. You can give it back to me when you’re finished with it.

[Ellone zips her backpack back up, reshoulders it, and walks on. Exit Ellone.]

Squall: “The Taming of the Shrew” by William Shakespeare. Huh? What up with her?

[But Squall opens it, and begins to read it.]

Squall: Hey! Hold up! Dis dude got some flow! He got dat old-school flavah workin’ up in dis book.

[Squall reads the following passage out loud:]

Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace:
We will have rings and things and fine array;
And kiss me, Kate, we shall be married o’ Sunday.

[Squall stops reading.]

Squall: Petruchio is straight-up a true playah!

[Squall puts the copy of “Taming of the Shrew” in his backpack.]

[Fade Out.]

Part 3