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An excerpt from the play "Happy 9/11" (formerly "Season's Greetings") by Chris Lockheardt:
STEVE: When does it change?
ELLEN: Into what?
STEVE: To a, you know, a celebration.
ELLEN: Celebration? What is there to celebrate?
STEVE: Well . . . that we survived it.
ELLEN: Steve, of course we did, but—
STEVE: No, no buts. Did you see everyone's faces this morning? During the moment of silence? Bill's jaw all clenched with rage. Roberto looking like he was crumbling in slow-motion. And Jesus, Gina . . .
ELLEN: Her cousin was working in the towers.
STEVE: It's like it happened yesterday for them.
ELLEN: That's why you have to be careful with—
STEVE: But it didn't happen yesterday! There's no avalanche of ash crashing through Manhattan. There's no blue sky eerily clear of contrails. There's no endless loops of fireballs and falling bodies playing on the television. We made it back, safe and sound, to the right side of the looking glass!
ELLEN: Wonderful. So what do you want to do? Declare September 11th "Snap Out of It Day"?
STEVE: No, I just want . . . I want . . .
ELLEN: What?
STEVE: I want a day, just one day out of the year, when nobody's asking me to be afraid, when nobody's warning me that "they" can take my livelihood from me, that "they" can take my loved ones from me, that "they" can take my life from me—when nobody is desperate to convince me that there is a "they" out there! Just one day where I'm given permission to believe everything is going to be okay.
ELLEN: Well . . . there's always your birthday.
STEVE: Exactly! That's what I want! A birthday! A day when everyone claps you on the back and says, "Nice work! You made it through another year! I had my doubts, you dumb bastard, but you're still on your feet. Here, have some cake."
ELLEN: Except it would be a birthday for . . .
STEVE: For all of us!
ELLEN: With cake.
STEVE: Oh, man, yeah! You have to have cake!
ELLEN: A 9/11 cake?
STEVE: Sure!
ELLEN: Which would be what? Frosting-covered towers?
(Steve runs to the table and begins constructing the cake out of office supplies as he and Ellen describe it.)
STEVE: Yes! Yes! With a, with a . . . marzipan plane-tail sticking out of the top.
ELLEN: And gumdrop news crews covering the scene from the Oreo streets.
STEVE: And licorice whip fire hoses spraying down mango coulis jet fuel!
ELLEN: Amidst smoldering piles of graham cracker rubble!
STEVE: Under plumes of marshmallow smoke!
ELLEN: With a lit birthday candle sticking out of each window!
STEVE: And everyone gathered around the table singing!
ELLEN: Singing, yes! The . . . the . . .
STEVE: The Tower Day Song!
STEVE & ELLEN: Happy Tower Day to you! Happy Tower Day to you! Happy Tower Day, Happy Tower Day, Happy Tower Day to youuuuuuuuuuu!
STEVE: When does it change?
ELLEN: Into what?
STEVE: To a, you know, a celebration.
ELLEN: Celebration? What is there to celebrate?
STEVE: Well . . . that we survived it.
ELLEN: Steve, of course we did, but—
STEVE: No, no buts. Did you see everyone's faces this morning? During the moment of silence? Bill's jaw all clenched with rage. Roberto looking like he was crumbling in slow-motion. And Jesus, Gina . . .
ELLEN: Her cousin was working in the towers.
STEVE: It's like it happened yesterday for them.
ELLEN: That's why you have to be careful with—
STEVE: But it didn't happen yesterday! There's no avalanche of ash crashing through Manhattan. There's no blue sky eerily clear of contrails. There's no endless loops of fireballs and falling bodies playing on the television. We made it back, safe and sound, to the right side of the looking glass!
ELLEN: Wonderful. So what do you want to do? Declare September 11th "Snap Out of It Day"?
STEVE: No, I just want . . . I want . . .
ELLEN: What?
STEVE: I want a day, just one day out of the year, when nobody's asking me to be afraid, when nobody's warning me that "they" can take my livelihood from me, that "they" can take my loved ones from me, that "they" can take my life from me—when nobody is desperate to convince me that there is a "they" out there! Just one day where I'm given permission to believe everything is going to be okay.
ELLEN: Well . . . there's always your birthday.
STEVE: Exactly! That's what I want! A birthday! A day when everyone claps you on the back and says, "Nice work! You made it through another year! I had my doubts, you dumb bastard, but you're still on your feet. Here, have some cake."
ELLEN: Except it would be a birthday for . . .
STEVE: For all of us!
ELLEN: With cake.
STEVE: Oh, man, yeah! You have to have cake!
ELLEN: A 9/11 cake?
STEVE: Sure!
ELLEN: Which would be what? Frosting-covered towers?
(Steve runs to the table and begins constructing the cake out of office supplies as he and Ellen describe it.)
STEVE: Yes! Yes! With a, with a . . . marzipan plane-tail sticking out of the top.
ELLEN: And gumdrop news crews covering the scene from the Oreo streets.
STEVE: And licorice whip fire hoses spraying down mango coulis jet fuel!
ELLEN: Amidst smoldering piles of graham cracker rubble!
STEVE: Under plumes of marshmallow smoke!
ELLEN: With a lit birthday candle sticking out of each window!
STEVE: And everyone gathered around the table singing!
ELLEN: Singing, yes! The . . . the . . .
STEVE: The Tower Day Song!
STEVE & ELLEN: Happy Tower Day to you! Happy Tower Day to you! Happy Tower Day, Happy Tower Day, Happy Tower Day to youuuuuuuuuuu!