MORALITY PLAY
PROLOGUE: NOH THEATER
OFFSTAGE VOICE (in dark): And now an evening of Noh Theater.
(Lights up on ACTRESS, center
stage; behind her is an ANIME CHARACTER who assumes various poses during the
following; a MAN enters and watches her; she starts to sing a Gilbert and
Sullivan song; the MAN watches for a while, obviously getting angrier as the
song continues; MAN exits, then re-enters with a baseball bat and moves closer
to ACTRESS; he suddenly lifts the bat in the air)
MAN (screaming): No! No!!
(ACTRESS stops singing and starts to run; the man follows her, still
screaming and swinging with the baseball bat)
No theater! No! No theater!
(ACTRESS and MAN exit; ANIME CHARACTER shrugs and assumes another pose; lights go to black)
INTRODUCTION: LECTURE
(Lights up on empty stage; if there is room in the audience the various actors will take places in the audience; PROFESSOR BORDENOV enters and crosses to center stage; as he talks the students get up one by one and leave the room)
PROFESSOR BORDENOV: Good afternoon, and welcome to English 522, the Morality Play of the Middle Ages, a Study of Precursors in the Evolution of British and Worldwide Theater. I am Professor Bordenov. Let us start right off. I will presume that you have at least some preliminary knowledge of the Middle Ages. If you have forgotten, there were three major types of plays that came out of the period. The first were the mystery plays. In this case, “mystery” does not refer to anything mysterious about the church, or indeed anything at all. These were portrayals of Biblical stories as done by various craft guilds. In this context the word mystery is from the archaic definition of mystery as a craft guild. The etymology traces it from the French word for servant back to Middle English, which ultimately came from the Latin word, mysterium, a variant of the Latin, ministerium, which meant service or occupation. Thus there is no mystery at all in the modern sense. (He laughs slightly) The second type of play from the period was the miracle play. These were instructive portrayals of the lives of the saints. Finally, morality plays were developed. Morality plays were secular dramas in which allegorical representations of vices and virtues were used to impart lessons to the masses. They eventually moved away from any moral teachings and became strictly secular, sometimes bawdy depictions of the social attitudes and mores of the time. Basically the allegorical morality play was a type of non-liturgical vernacular religious drama. Though non-liturgical the plays still focused almost exclusively on religious and moral themes, but did so from the point of view of the individual. It was all the imagination they had in the Middle Ages. (He laughs slightly) The allegories were intended to be lessons and were shameless in their didacticism. The characters were all personified abstractions with aptronyms who struggled through a psychomachia. These stories neatly hearken back to exempla and other earlier works of spiritual edification. Along with the longer morality plays were shorter works called interludes, short entertainments that filled time between the longer works. Now, if you open your textbook to . . .
DEAN (entering): Excuse me, Professor Bordenov.
PROFESSOR BORDENOV: Oh, hello Dean.
DEAN: I’m sorry to interrupt, but it appears that the last of your students just withdrew. He just left my office five minutes ago. So, it looks like we won’t be holding this course for this term.
(DEAN exits; PROFESSOR BORDENOV gathers his materials)
PROFESSOR BORDENOV: Idiots.
(Blackout)
SONG: I’M A MORALITY (PLAY)
(NAIVETE and SAGE enter)
SAGE: So, Naivete, have you ever seen a morality play?
NAIVETE: Nah, I don’t know what it is.
SAGE: Well, a morality play is a play about morals.
NAIVETE: What’s that?
SAGE: What’s what?
NAIVETE: Morals.
SAGE: You don’t know what morals are?
NAIVETE: Oh, you mean like the mushrooms.
SAGE: No, morals, a code of ethics.
NAIVETE: Morals, huh. Ethics? I don’t know.
SAGE: Ethics are a code, a way to live.
NAIVETE: I’ve never seen that in the world.
SAGE: Let me show you. (A chorus and singer enter) This is a song about a morality play. Listen and you’ll learn.
What is an allegory
if not a little story
that teaches me about myself?
And so then a morality
is just a type of allegory
that teaches us about ourselves.
Chorus:
Let’s all play with morality,
a morality play for you and me,
a moral lesson is what you’ll see
as you head toward immortality.
It uses psychomachia
as a way to talk to ya—
that’s a battle in your own soul.
It uses aptronyms,
opposite of antonyms—
they’re names that match up with the roles.
Repeat Chorus
You’ll see didactic roles;
you’ll see big plots with holes
because the play just wants to teach you right.
There are also interludes,
shorter plays which aren’t as good
but also teach you wrong from right.
Repeat Chorus.
In a morality play
Vice and Virtue join the fray
and they are likely to be parts.
God and Satan fight it out
until there’s certainly no doubt
which one of them will win our hearts.
Repeat Chorus
Now not even famous ones
are ever even staged or done,
even the one called Everyman;
because the time for morality
has passed on into history
and the plays have fallen just like man.
NAIVETE: Now I get it. It’s a play that teaches what is good.
SAGE: And it teaches right from wrong.
NAIVETE: It does it by telling a simple story.
SAGE: And sometimes with the use of song.
Repeat Chorus two times.
(Lights go to black)
SCENE: JUVENTUS
(Lights up on a coffee house; an open mic poetry session is taking place; GOOD COUNSEL is in the audience; MR. KNOW-IT-ALL, the owner of the coffee house is behind the counter; WOMAN is on stage finishing up a poem)
WOMAN: And so I wept; oh, I did weep
The day I saw the humpback whale humping in the sea.
(WOMAN bows; GOOD COUNSEL applauds; MR. KNOW-IT-ALL steps to the mic)
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: So there you are. That was The Day I Saw the Humpback Whale Humping in the Sea. Awesome. Inspiring. Thank you, thank you. And now, all the way from downtown, to read you a poem of his own, the young and lusty Juventus.
(GOOD COUNSEL applauds as JUVENTUS enters; JUVENTUS crosses to mic)
JUVENTUS: I awaken in green grass,
Green that is tainted by the black
That surrounds the night like paint,
That surrounds the evening dark . . . dark.
I
Remember.
I remember light.
I remember evening.
I remember grass under asphalt.
I remember playing under stars.
I remember youth now lost in the black night.
But most of all I remember her,
The thought of her,
Thought of her,
I think
Of her.
And soon the thoughts become dreams,
And with dreams come awakening,
And awakening leads to night and dark and nothing.
So I stand here with an empty heart;
In the dark,
Away from her.
Looking down a black tunnel
I see no light waiting for me.
Black, black, it is all
Black.
(JUVENTUS drops to his knees)
What does it mean?
What does it mean?
What the fuck does it all mean?
Into darkness I go; I am dead.
(JUVENTUS falls to the floor and lies motionless; GOOD COUNSEL applauds; JUVENTUS stands up, nods, and mouths “thank you”; JUVENTUS steps aside as MR. KNOW-IT-ALL crosses to the mic)
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: That was Juventus with a poem of his own. I don’t know the title. I don’t think it matters. We’re going to take a little break and come back with more open mic poetry in about 15 minutes.
(The lights come up for a moment and then start to fade back down)
JUVENTUS: Where is everyone? They told me they’d be here. I told them how important it was to me. I want to party. I want to be with my friends. (Pause) What friends? They don’t even bother to show up. (JUVENTUS crosses to the counter; to MR. KNOW-IT-ALL) I’ll have a soy triple ice latte’, and so help you God if it has honey in it.
GOOD COUNSEL: Hi, how you doing?
JUVENTUS: Peachy.
GOOD COUNSEL: That was quite the death rattle you had going there.
JUVENTUS: Yeah, my parents love it. They’re really proud of me.
GOOD COUNSEL: They should be.
JUVENTUS: Uh-huh. Look, what are you trying to do, sell insurance or something?
GOOD COUNSEL: No, it’s just that you don’t see too many teenage boys reading poetry these days.
JUVENTUS: Ooh, that hurt.
GOOD COUNSEL: Well, you don’t. I like it. You’re doing something.
JUVENTUS: And you don’t see too many 40-year old guys hanging out with teenage boys either. What do you want?
GOOD COUNSEL: Ouch. Speaking of hurting. I don’t really think of you as a teenager. You’re just another person.
JUVENTUS: Uh-huh. What’s on your mind, old man?
GOOD COUNSEL: Nothing, I just like to get out, see what’s doing. I like poetry readings. You never know what you’re going to hear.
JUVENTUS: Or who you’re going to see, right? You’re a dirty old man.
GOOD COUNSEL: First of all, I’m straight. Second, I like women, not girls. I like the experience, if you know what I mean. You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I did want you, which I don’t. So why don’t you get over yourself and let’s just talk, human being to human being.
JUVENTUS: So you like girls?
GOOD COUNSEL: Women.
JUVENTUS: The one with the whale poem?
GOOD COUNSEL: Nice.
JUVENTUS: Nice rack.
GOOD COUNSEL: Yeah, and smart, in more ways than one.
JUVENTUS: So this place isn’t exactly your demographic, you know. What are you doing here?
GOOD COUNSEL: Only advertisers care about demographics. And governments . . . governments that want to keep different kinds of people in different worlds . . . so they don’t all know that they’re all oppressed.
JUVENTUS: Oh, a leftie. Or one of the street crazies.
GOOD COUNSEL: Yeah, and proud of it.
JUVENTUS: Being a street crazy?
GOOD COUNSEL: A leftie.
JUVENTUS: You’re as bad as the conservatives. Everyone wants to shut up everyone who doesn’t agree with them.
GOOD COUNSEL: I’ll agree, sometimes we are just as bad, but Jesus, boy, you need to lighten up. You’re young. You should be a little happier. You shouldn’t be so dark.
JUVENTUS: It’s not always so fun being young.
GOOD COUNSEL: Yeah, I know, I remember. (Pause) I can tell.
JUVENTUS: What, you think because a kid wears all black, paints their nails black, that means they’re a devil worshipper or something?
GOOD COUNSEL: I didn’t say that. It looks good.
JUVENTUS: Oh, yeah, you like this look. Right.
GOOD COUNSEL: Right. It makes me nostalgic. You look like me when I was your age.
(Pause)
JUVENTUS: You’re sort of fuckin’ weird.
GOOD COUNSEL: Boys who write poetry—that makes two of us.
(Pause)
JUVENTUS (holding out his hand): Juventus. (Beat) New Age parents.
GOOD COUNSEL (shaking his hand): Good Counsel. (Beat) An old hippie.
JUVENTUS: So what are you doing here?
GOOD COUNSEL: Oh, I don’t know. I just like to get out. I enjoy poetry.
JUVENTUS: Shouldn’t you be out protesting or something?
GOOD COUNSEL: Shouldn’t you?
JUVENTUS: Oh, yeah, let me go round up the fellas and we’ll meet you at the sock hop. We’ll protest the punch. (Pause) Protesting went out with the Vietnam War.
GOOD COUNSEL: Not for those who care.
JUVENTUS: Well, I don’t. The world sucks. It’ll stay sucky. Nothing you or I can do or say is going to change that. What’s a boy to do but be apathetic?
GOOD COUNSEL: It’s a start.
JUVENTUS: I don’t care.
GOOD COUNSEL: Yeah, you do, or you wouldn’t be here. You recognize your apathy and you want to do something about it. So you’re here. Otherwise, you’d be home watching fuckin’ reruns of Survivor. Why aren’t you home watching T. V.?
JUVENTUS: Because there’s nothing on but programs that tell you which white pop star to worship next, which clothes to wear, which white male to elect as the next President. I don’t give a shit.
GOOD COUNSEL: You’re a liar. You care.
JUVENTUS: It’s easy to care.
GOOD COUNSEL: Uh-huh.
JUVENTUS: It’s easier not to.
GOOD COUNSEL: Uh-huh. But you do. I can tell. You wouldn’t be here. I can hear it in your poetry.
JUVENTUS: Well, yeah, dude, that’s not just bullshit teenage angst. I mean it. So you’re right, I care. Okay? But that doesn’t mean I can do anything about anything.
GOOD COUNSEL: Change comes one moment at a time, Juventus. Martin Luther King didn’t effect a movement in an instant. He took millions of steps just to start climbing to the mountain top . . .
JUVENTUS: . . . which he never reached. He got killed.
GOOD COUNSEL: His body. His spirit lives.
JUVENTUS: Yeah, well, it’s not like he’s here anymore. It’s not like there’s any leaders. It’s not like there’s even protests anymore. When was the last time you saw a protest?
GOOD COUNSEL: Saw, or was in one, or both?
JUVENTUS: Either.
GOOD COUNSEL: A couple months ago I saw one. It was a couple old hippies like me and a couple other younger folks like you. They were standing out on a highway in the middle of fucking farm country in the rural conservative western part of the state. I was driving by and saw the signs, “U. S. Out of Iraq”, “Bring our Sons and Brothers Home”, “Peace”. (Pause) Peace—can you believe it—peace—a grey-haired woman with a peace sign with a red barn and a highway to nowhere as a backdrop. It fuckin’ blew my mind. I stopped and joined them.
JUVENTUS: Okay, one freak show in the middle of nowhere. That’ll change the world.
GOOD COUNSEL: One moment at a time. Let me ask you, are you for the war in Iraq?
JUVENTUS: Fuck no, I think it sucks. But I can’t do anything.
GOOD COUNSEL: You know what? There’s an anti-war protest at the Capitol every Monday afternoon. It started with one man with a single sign that said, “Take a Moment for Peace”. For many weeks, probably eight, ten at least, he sat there by himself. One day an old woman joined him. Several weeks later a younger man. Now there are 13 of us who meet every Monday at the same time. You should come.
JUVENTUS: What time?
GOOD COUNSEL: Noon, for one hour.
JUVENTUS: I don’t know. There might be something good on T. V.
(MR. KNOW-IT-ALL enters)
GOOD COUNSEL: And here’s Mr. Know-it-All. Thank God you’re here.
JUVENTUS: It’s good to know you hold your friends in such high regard.
GOOD COUNSEL: I’m trying to educate the young one here about politics.
JUVENTUS: I like your shoe laces.
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Thanks, they’re imported.
JUVENTUS: So, Mr. Know-It-All, do you think protests make a difference?
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Well, as David the Busboy says, “Good things come to those who wait, as long as they’re asked for.” And my neighbor, Dorothy Dorridge, would say, “What goes in the pot is food for the stomach.” John, the cleaning man, always has been known to say, “No garbage in. Good stuff in, good stuff out.” There’s also the mayor, the man who claims, “You can’t be heard if you don’t speak up.” Or my auto mechanic, Rod, whom I quote thus: “The squeaky wheel gets the grease. You want the grease you gotta squeak.” I’m sure there’s more. When you’ve been in the coffee house business as long as I have you hear them all.
JUVENTUS: I’ve never heard any of those things.
GOOD COUNSEL: You have to learn for yourself what’s important.
JUVENTUS: So why didn’t anyone ever tell me any of this, about protests and stuff. My teachers, my parents . . .
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Republican?
JUVENTUS: What?
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Your parents, Republican?
JUVENTUS: Yeah, and they told me that old hippies and protesters and flag-burners are all idiots who are just too lazy to get ahead in the world.
GOOD COUNSEL: Is that right?
JUVENTUS: They want everything handed to them on a platter and expect the government to take care of their every need.
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Your parents?
GOOD COUNSEL: I think he means people like us.
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: I think I knew that. Are you a Republican, Good Counsel?
GOOD COUNSEL: What!?
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: No sense of irony.
GOOD COUNSEL: Oh. (Beat) No.
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: The deal is, your parents, teachers were ignorant. They kept their eyes closed because they didn’t want to see. But once you do see, once you know about body bags and poverty, rich and poor, suffering and servitude, then you can’t turn your back on it.
GOOD COUNSEL: At least not without turning your back on your own soul.
JUVENTUS: My eyes are open.
GOOD COUNSEL: Then open your heart.
JUVENTUS: My heart is open.
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Love thy neighbor as thyself.
JUVENTUS: Huh?
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
JUVENTUS: Speak English, dude.
GOOD COUNSEL: Don’t fuck with people. Treat them right. The way you’d expect them to treat you.
JUVENTUS: Fair enough. Look, I gotta go. Nice talking to you.
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Here, take these with you. Do a little reading. (Taking some things out from behind the counter) A couple back issues of The Nation, Mother Jones. Here’s a copy of Zinn’s People’s History.
GOOD COUNSEL: Best American history book there is.
JUVENTUS: You guys are both fuckin’ weird, but thanks. I’ll do some reading.
(JUVENTUS takes the reading material and sits at the corner; the other two start to exit opposite)
MR. KNOW-IT-ALL: Good kid.
GOOD COUNSEL: I think so. I think he gets it.
(They exit; a beat, then B. L. ZEEBUB enters opposite and crosses toward JUVENTUS)
ZEEBUB: Zeebub’s the name, temptation’s the game.
I do it with a friend of mine.
(Enter HIP HOP CRISSY)
With a hip, hop, a Hip Hop Crissy,
My girl, she’s a sweet little missy.
CRISSY: I say one thing, but I do another.
I talk about love but I’d kill my mother
If it gave me what I need to get ahead.
I’m a hip, hop, a Hip Hop Crissy,
A tough little bitch and I ain’t no sissy.
If you ask on the street I got me cred.
I act one way, but I mean something else.
I don’t care for you like I care for myself.
I act like I care but I’d kill my brother.
I’m a hip, hop, a Hip Hop Crissy,
I’m a bitchin’ queen, but I ain’t no prissy.
I’m a mean mother fucker like no other.
BOTH: A hip, hop, a Hip Hop Crissy
ZEEBUB: Word.
CRISSY: Hip Hop Crissy, say yo.
ZEEBUB: Yo.
CRISSY: A Hip Hop Crissy, say what.
ZEEBUB: What?
CRISSY: A Hip Hop Crissy, I ain’t no sissy.
I’m a mean mother fucker like no other.
A hip, hop, a Hip Hop Crissy,
A mean mother fucker like my mother.
ZEEBUB: Say what?
CRISSY: A mean mother fucker like no other.
Yo.
JUVENTUS: Do you mind?
CRISSY: What?
JUVENTUS: I’m trying to read.
CRISSY: Read schmead.
JUVENTUS: I’m trying to learn something.
CRISSY: What’s to learn?
ZEEBUB: Ignorance is bliss.
JUVENTUS: What’s bliss?
ZEEBUB: Happiness, boy. Like when you got a big-ass car . . .
CRISSY: And crib.
ZEEBUB: And money out the wazoo.
JUVENTUS: Who needs money? I live cheaply.
CRISSY: Oh, come on, dawg, everyone likes money. Get you some Abercrombie, Bitch.
JUVENTUS: Who needs clothes?
CRISSY: Hey, where do I know you from?
JUVENTUS: You don’t.
CRISSY: I do. We used to be tight.
JUVENTUS: Yeah, I think I’d remember.
CRISSY: No, we did.
JUVENTUS: Kindergarten, maybe. I’m trying to read.
CRISSY: Reading’s for sissies. It ain’t for Crissy.
JUVENTUS: Why the fuck does everyone feel the need to talk to me today? What do you want?
ZEEBUB: Who else has been talking to you today?
JUVENTUS: Some old hippie dude, Good Counsel, and his shoe-laced sidekick, Mr. Know-It-All.
ZEEBUB: You didn’t listen, did you?
JUVENTUS: I’m listening to you.
ZEEBUB: They’re evil. Stay away from them. They’ll land you in jail. They’ll make you an enemy of the government. They’ll make you think that you should join some movement. But it’s a cult.
CRISSY: Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with anything. But they protest everything.
JUVENTUS: What about the war?
CRISSY: What about it? Some dickface leader keeping his own people down and we go there to set them free. Sounds righteous to me.
JUVENTUS: But I just read . . .
CRISSY: Which you are free to do.
ZEEBUB: Here.
CRISSY: You’re free to do anything here. You can become rich.
JUVENTUS: But I don’t want to.
CRISSY: You don’t have to. But at least you can.
JUVENTUS: I don’t want to hear any more of this.
ZEEBUB: Afraid of the truth?
JUVENTUS: The truth is that the only ones who are going to benefit from the war are the rich. They’re already splitting up all the wealth, all the corporations and oil fields. Friends of the President are getting wealthy. People like you and me, we die in the trenches so others can live like royalty. It’s the way it’s always been. It sucks.
ZEEBUB: You speak well. Mind if I see some of what you’re reading there?
JUVENTUS: No.
CRISSY: That book could land you behind bars.
JUVENTUS: Yeah, right.
CRISSY: You’re a traitor to read it.
JUVENTUS: Fuck you.
ZEEBUB: Didn’t your father teach you what a wonderful country we have? Didn’t he tell you about freedom? About how we sometimes have to fight to defend it? And that a freedom that you won’t defend is not worth having? I’ll bet he did. And you’d throw out the love of your father for the words of a man you just met.
JUVENTUS: My father didn’t know any better. Now that I know the truth I can’t let it go. He was ignorant. I was innocent. But now I know better.
ZEEBUB: It’s a terrible thing to lose that innocence. Don’t turn your back on youth so soon, boy, or on your parents.
JUVENTUS: Look, I got a protest to go to. It’s been nice.
CRISSY: Don’t go.
JUVENTUS: Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s evil. See ya.
CRISSY: No, it’s not that.
JUVENTUS: So?
CRISSY: So my cousin’s comin’. She’s hot. I think you’d like her.
JUVENTUS: Not lookin’. Gotta go.
CRISSY: She’s a babe. She gives head.
JUVENTUS: She’s your cuz?
CRISSY: Not to me, dawg. To dudes like you.
JUVENTUS: Really?
CRISSY: Yeah. Bet you’d like it.
JUVENTUS: Yeah, but I gotta go.
CRISSY: Yo, here she comes.
(Enter CUZ)
JUVENTUS: This is your cuz?
CRISSY: Yeah, you like?
JUVENTUS: Yeah.
CUZ: You’re a cute young thang.
JUVENTUS: Juventus. What’s your name?
CUZ: Just call me Cuz.
JUVENTUS: Cuz?
CUZ: Cuz I like what I see.
JUVENTUS: Thanks.
CUZ: And I wanna go down on it.
JUVENTUS: Double thanks.
CUZ: Kiss me. (He does) Let’s go back behind the bushes here.
JUVENTUS: I’m going to be late.
CUZ: It’ll be worth it.
ZEEBUB: Let’s all go behind the bushes.
(They exit down right; GOOD COUNSEL enters opposite; he is holding a PEACE sign; there is the sound of laughter and general good times off stage; GOOD COUNSEL stops and listens; JUVENTUS re-enters momentarily; they see each other)
JUVENTUS: Hey, how’s it going?
GOOD COUNSEL: Not bad. Just coming back from the protest. Where were you?
JUVENTUS: I got tied up.
GOOD COUNSEL: I thought you said you were going to be there.
JUVENTUS: I said I might. I meant to. I got distracted. I read all the stuff. It’s good. I like it. I agree.
GOOD COUNSEL: I see.
(CUZ comes out from behind the bushes buttoning her blouse; the other two follow her)
JUVENTUS: See what? What does that mean?
GOOD COUNSEL: I see you let your dick do your thinking for you.
(CUZ, CRISSY, and ZEEBUB exit)
JUVENTUS: What, you’ve never fucked? You said you like girls.
GOOD COUNSEL: I do.
JUVENTUS: And what do you care anyway? It’s none of your business.
GOOD COUNSEL: It’s just that I was expecting you.
JUVENTUS: I said I might. I will. Just today wasn’t so good. Well, I mean it was good. Just not for that.
GOOD COUNSEL: Juventus, don’t take this wrong, but . . .
JUVENTUS: Go ahead, I can handle it. I’m a man now.
GOOD COUNSEL: Well, I’m just amazed that a two-bit whore is going to keep you from taking up the cause, because if that’s the case the cause doesn’t need you. Not that sex is wrong. Not that women are wrong. I’ve had my share and believe me, I like them. But there’s a time and a place. If you’ve got things to do you have to do them. You have to keep your commitments, because there’s a lot of people depending on you. You just can’t let your dick think for you. Empires have been brought down by the dick. Not by the power of it, but by the weakness.
JUVENTUS: I appreciate what you’re saying, man, but here’s the deal. I believe in your cause. I do. It makes sense to me. But you know what? I’m young. Give me that. There are going to be times when I’m undependable. There are going to be times when something interests me just a little bit more, for a moment. There are going to be times when your schedule or your way don’t work for me. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t be part of it all. It doesn’t mean I can’t be the first one to sit there with a sign that says, “Give peace a chance” or whatever the hell it said. Give me a break. If you want me, if you want other young people on your side, give us a break. Let us be who we are. You got to be.
GOOD COUNSEL: All right, understood. How about next week?
JUVENTUS: I think I’ll be there. And maybe I’ll bring some friends. (JUVENTUS takes the sign from GOOD COUNSEL) Let’s go get a cup of java.
(They cross as the lights go to black)
INTERLUDE: SPEAKING OF
(Lights up; a man walks onto the stage in a top hat and coattails; he stops and takes a slight bow; he pulls a ping-pong ball out of his pocket and starts blowing it into the air, balancing it with his own breath; he lets it drop into his hand and then starts to speak)
MAN: Speaking of blowing . . . Cheney and Bush—I mean Bush and Cheney—are having a barbecue at the President’s ranch. Bush had missed his daughters’ graduation so he wanted a chance to meet the new loves in their lives. The first one comes up—I think it was Jenna—and her date is Ted Kennedy. Well, I tell you, Cheney about has a seventh heart attack right there on the spot and Rumsfeld’s eyes are about as big as missiles, but Bush calmly shakes Teddy’s hand and welcomes him to the house. Little Barbara, or mini-Bush, comes up next and lo and behold her date is Michael Moore. Cheney goes into convulsions. Rumsfeld is about to call up the National Guard when he says Bush extend his hand and welcome Michael Moore to his house, remaining calm and acting the perfect gentleman. The girls and their dates go off and Condi Rice asks her boss in disbelief, “How can you be so calm?” “Easy,” Bush says, it could have been worse. I was afraid it might be Cheney’s daughter.”
(The man takes the ping-pong and starts to balance it with his breath again as the lights fade to black)
INTERLUDE: JUGGLING
(Lights up; JUGGLER enters and crosses to center stage, where he takes out three juggling balls and shows them to the audience)
JUGGLER: These are not juggling balls. They’re jobs. (He starts to juggle them) In this day and age most of us have to juggle one, two, three jobs at a time just to survive. We’re constantly going. There’s no time to stop. There’s no time for family, let alone family values. We have to keep three different bosses happy and we have to do it all for minimum wage. But you know you can’t stop. You know you need the income. You have too many bills to pay. If you lose one job . . . (He drops one of the balls) then the other two may not keep you going. God forbid you should drop to one. (He drops another of the balls and continues to toss the one remaining into the air repeatedly; another person enters). It’s not enough. And it could be taken from you at any moment. (The other person grabs the remaining ball from the air and walks off stage) Then what? Then there is nothing left. (He shows his hands) Nothing.
(Blackout)
SCENE: OCCUPATION AND IDLENESS
(Lights up on MR. FARMER, wiping his brow)
MR. FARMER: Oh, my God, it’s hot. I mean, I don’t mind a little heat. You expect that in the country. You expect to sweat when you work hard. And I believe in working hard, I do. I believe in the American way. But lordy, lordy, I could use a break. I ain’t as young as I used to be. Now I’m not complaining. That’s just the way of the world. You get old. You die. You just gotta work hard while you’re here. You gotta make it count. But you also gotta take a break sometimes.
(MR. FARMER takes off his hat, wipes his brow again, and sits to rest; IDA enters opposite)
IDA (to the audience): Hi all. How ya doin’? You’re all lookin’ fine. I mean fine. My name’s Ida La’Nesse. (Looking at an audience member) I guess you knew that. (Looking around) Hey, there’s a bunch of you I know. (Pointing to a member of the audience) This one, for example, we’ve been drunk together a number of times. Likely drunk now. Just kiddin’. Have a good day. (Pointing to another audience member) This one, nice person, will loan me money if I need. Gotta quarter? Just kiddin’. But you know I often do need it ‘cause I like to spend. Nothin’ wrong with that, I say. Look, if you got it, use it. That goes for everything. But especially money. What’s it for if not to spend? Of course, it’s hard to keep it if you blow it all on big meals and then lose your job. Again. I can’t help losin’ jobs. I mean, if you’re full o’ meat and potatoes and a little good brew it is sorta hard to get up in the morning, ain’t it? No matter. I hate goin’ to work anyway. (Pause) Lost a lotta jobs that way, not showin’ up for work. Oh well, life’s hard. No big deal. (Noticing MR. FARMER) Hey, who’s that over there? That one I don’t know. (Crossing) Hey, how ya doin’?
MR. FARMER: Do I know you?
IDA (to an audience member): Watch this lie. Watch a real con artist at work. (To MR. FARMER) We’ve done business. I’m Cora Peration.
MR. FARMER: Really? I don’t recall.
IDA: Lotsa times.
MR. FARMER: Really, lotsa times? You don’t look like the business-type, just judgin’ on the way you’re dressed.
IDA: It’s my day off. (Pointing to an audience member) Ask this person. They’ll tell you I have all sorts of fine clothes. Don’t I? Yeah. See?
MR. FARMER: I still don’t recall. What line of business?
IDA: Farming, like you. Why, I can plow, I can do it all. I’m good with animals, especially the cows. Hell, I could run this little place. Looks like you could use a break.
MR. FARMER (after thinking for a moment): I could use a partner.
IDA: Great, glad to do business with ya again. But I’m short of cash right now.
MR. FARMER: Well, hey, I’ve done well over the years, but I’m tired. I’ll give ya some money to run the place for a bit. If you need more cash just let me know.
IDA: Great. I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna go into town to get some grub before I start. You need a good meal to work hard, ya know?
MR. FARMER: Yeah, I know.
IDA: So, you go on vacation or whatever you wanna do and I’ll take care of the place for ya while you’re gone. Deal? Deal.
MR. FARMER: All right, then. I’m just gonna go get some sleep.
(MR. FARMER exits)
IDA (to the audience): What an idiot. He gave me an advance and a job without even checking references. His loss, ‘cause really, I can’t help myself. I’m gonna go into town and get me a drunk on. (Pointing to someone in the audience) Meet me at the bar later. I’ll buy ya a drink.
(IDA exits; MR. FARMER returns)
MR. FARMER: I have to get back to work. There’s a lot to be done. And my partner, Cora, seems to be gone. I wonder what happened? I’m worried.
IDA (stumbling in): Oh, man, did I get toasted. Good food, good drink, damn good hangover. Oh, man, my head hurts. I think I’m gonna be sick. My head’s throbbing and holy shit it’s still spinning a bit. (Reaching into pockets) Oh, shit, did I spend it all? And nothin’ to show for it but a big-ass hangover.
MR. FARMER: Hey, Cora! There you are!
IDA: Oh, fuck. (Turning toward him) Mornin’. I been lookin’ all over for you.
MR. FARMER: Where?
IDA: All over the place.
MR. FARMER (getting a whiff of alcohol): You been drinking?
IDA: Okay, you caught me. Yeah. I had a reeeaaaalll good time.
MR. FARMER: Tell me you didn’t spend all the money.
IDA: I didn’t spend all the money.
MR. FARMER: Did you?
IDA: Yeah, well, I guess that’s true. (Pause) Sorry.
MR. FARMER: Damn it. You spent all that money. You did no work. Ya know, I don’t think you’re really a business person like you said.
IDA: You’re right about that too. I lied. My name is Ida La’Nesse.
MR. FARMER: Well, Ida, you owe me money and if ya can’t farm you’re going to pay it back somehow.
IDA: What’re ya gonna make me a clerk or somethin’? I can’t even type. Especially today.
MR. FARMER: I can have Dr. Inn teach you some things.
IDA: Who’s that?
MR. FARMER: A professor at the university. Then you can get a real job and pay me back.
IDA: Uh, no thanks. I don’t need it. I eat as good as you, but I don’t work myself to death.
MR. FARMER: People aren’t going to take care of you forever.
IDA: I don’t care.
(DOCTOR INN enters)
DR. INN: Hello, fellows. What’s going on here?
IDA (to the audience): Boy, what an angry-lookin’ man.
MR. FARMER: Shut up. (To DR. INN) Afternoon and welcome.
DR. INN (putting his hand out to IDA): I’m Doctor Inn.
IDA: Are you?
(IDA laughs and falls to the ground)
MR. FARMER: You know me—Mr. Farmer. I’m the hard-working owner of this place.
DR. INN: It is a nice farm you have here, but it does appear to have fallen into some disarray of late.
(MR. FARMER whispers into DR. INN’s ear)
IDA (getting up; to the audience): Will you look at those two yahoos go on. I think I’ll skedaddle.
(IDA tries to sneak out, but is stopped by DR. INN)
DR. INN: I would like to have a word or two with you.
IDA: Me? I don’t even know you.
DR. INN: I would like to teach you about not scamming others.
MR. FARMER: Doc, if you could teach him some trade or some way of makin’ a living that would be great. He’ll be lost without it and I won’t ever get my money back.
DR. INN: Here’s what I can impart.
IDA: Oh, I can’t wait. What?
DR. INN: Everyone in this world has three enemies—the devil . . .
IDA: Oh, Jesus.
DR. INN: . . . the world itself . . .
IDA (singing): Paranoia will destroy ya.
DR. INN: . . . and his or her own flesh.
IDA: Like I have a good enough body image for that to be a problem.
DR. INN: If you work hard the temptation of any of them is far less. I believe idleness, laziness, is the worst sin of all. It allows the others to thrive.
IDA: Ooh, I better run away. The good doctor’s gonna beat me ‘cause I’m lazy. Ooh, I’m scared.
(IDA sneaks away into a corner while DR. INN continues talking)
DR. INN: It starts with the parents. Don’t spoil the children. Enroll them in school. Teach them the value of hard work. Let them earn something that they can save for themselves. Teach them responsibility.
MR. FARMER: I don’t think he’s convinced like I am.
DR. INN (turning to find IDA gone): Well, you . . . where is she?
MR. FARMER: Over there, ignoring us both.
DR. INN: Come over here. I was talking.
IDA: I know. That’s why I’m over here. You were lecturing and now you’re pissed. I don’t wanna get anywhere near you.
DR. INN: I’m not mad. Come over here.
IDA: Fuck off. Leave me alone.
MR. FARMER: Not very nice, is she? I tried to tell her about drunkenness and laziness and she wouldn’t listen.
IDA: Liar.
MR. FARMER: Really, I told her getting drunk was no good and that you could probably teach her some things.
DR. INN: Honestly, I can teach you. I can help you get a good job.
IDA: Look, I’m tired and hung over. I’ve been up all night. Let me sleep first, okay?
MR. FARMER: She owes me money. I want it.
IDA: Look, shut up about the fuckin’ money. It’s gone.
DR. INN: How could you live like this? Didn’t your parents or your friends ever try to teach you anything?
MR. FARMER: Obviously all enablers.
IDA (sitting down): Look, I’m lazy and a drunk. I admit it. I like it. Leave me alone.
DR. INN: Everyone has to work.
IDA (curling into a fetal position): Oh, shut up. You’re like a one-note clarinet, all reedy and irritating. Just shut up. You’re like a bloodhound howling in the night—nobody wants to hear that. Nobody. Get it?
MR. FARMER: Dr. Inn, just do it now. Give us a lecture. She’ll have to hear it, even if in her sleep, and maybe it’ll sink into her dreams.
(The lights fade to black as DR. INN speaks)
DR. INN: All right, then. This is a lecture on vice. It is a speech on the topic of hard work as opposed to idleness and sloth. It’s based on a research paper I wrote back in 1983. It was for my doctoral dissertation. It starts with the Holy Trinity and continues on (Lights are at black) blah, blah, blah, yakkety-yak)
IDA: Shut the fuck up!
DR. INN: Don’t talk back. Legend, virgins, consumed . . .
IDA: Oh, God, I need a drink.
DR. INN: . . . light, blood, radiate, bliss, death, brother, blah, blah, talk, talk, blah, yak, talk, etc., etc., etc.
IDA: Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut up. I can’t take it anymore. Shut the fuck up!
DR. INN: Mr. Farmer, will you shut her up? I’m trying to speak.
(MR. FARMER crosses to IDA)
IDA: You lay a hand on me and I’ll kick your ass.
DR. INN: Okay, don’t touch her. Leave her be. But you, young lady, please be quiet.
IDA: If I survive this hangover I’m gonna kill you people.
DR. INN: Pardon me?
IDA: Goddam you, leave me alone.
DR. INN: I’m not going to stop talking until you apologize to this man and promise to repay your debt to him.
IDA: All right, all right. I’ll do it. Just stop the lecture.
(Pause)
MR. FARMER (to DR. INN): Wow, you did it.
DR. INN: Not fully yet. (To IDA) Tell him you’re sorry.
IDA (to MR. FARMER): I’m sorry. Please forgive me.
DR. INN: You broke the law.
IDA: I’m sorry. I’ll work it off.
DR. INN: You also have to turn your life around. You cannot do this to others.
IDA: All right, I get the point. I’m a changed person. I won’t do this to others.
DR. INN: I think you are changed indeed.
IDA: I am. Thank you. I guess your words sunk in there somewhere.
DR. INN: You’re welcome.
IDA: Mr. Farmer, thank you, too, for your patience and all.
MR. FARMER: No problem, I’m glad I met you. I’m glad we could really help.
DR. INN: Now I must be off to assist others in their times of need. May God bless you.
(DR. INN exits)
MR. FARMER: Well, it looks like it all turned out okay in the end.
IDA: Well, there is one thing.
MR. FARMER: What’s that?
IDA: I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You coulda just turned your back on me when I came back so drunk this morning, but ya didn’t turn away. Ya did an intervention and ya helped me out.
MR. FARMER: It was the right thing to do.
IDA: And for a stranger. You’re a good man.
MR. FARMER: Thank you.
IDA: So there is that one thing.
MR. FARMER: Oh, yeah, what?
IDA: You could help out just a little bit more. In the name of Jesus and Mary, I am really broke. And I’m hungry. I could stand a good meal after that terrible drunk last night. Or I think I’m gonna be sick.
(MR. FARMER digs his wallet out and hands IDA some money)
MR. FARMER: There ya go.
IDA: Thanks, you’re somethin’ special.
(IDA exits; MR. FARMER stands there as the lights slowly fade to black)
MR. FARMER (in the dark): Ah, horse shit.
INTERLUDE: HOW TO PROPERLY WOO A WOMAN
(Lights up on two men)
BOB ONE: Good evening and welcome to this weeks’ edition of Life’s Little Interludes. On tonight’s show we are going to present the old, old piece How to Properly Woo a Woman. Life’s Little Interludes, and thus How to Properly Woo a Woman, is presented in its entirety by Broom Street Theater on the near east side in beautiful Madison, Wisconsin.
BOB TWO: That’s right, Bob One. Did you know that Broom Street Theater is home of the cheapest theater ticket in the world?
BOB ONE: I did not.
BOB TWO: Probably in the universe. Currently running is an unusual piece called Morality Play, a contemporary look at Middle Ages morality plays.
BOB ONE: I knew that. At this moment within that play is a piece called Life’s Little Interludes. And Bob Two, the two Bob announcers of Life’s Little Interludes in Morality Play are just about to introduce How to Properly Woo a Woman.
BOB TWO: Whoa. I feel like I’m in one of those paintings, one of those optical illusions, in which the same picture is overlaid upon itself and keeps repeating into eternity. What are those called?
BOB ONE: I don’t know, Bob Two. We are experts on the theater, not on art.
BOB TWO: That’s true.
BOB ONE: At any rate I was about to announce tonight’s edition of Life’s Little Interludes. On tonight’s show we are going to present the old, old piece How to Properly Woo a Woman. Life’s Little Interludes, and thus How to Properly Woo a Woman, is presented in its entirety by Broom Street Theater on the near east side in beautiful Madison, Wisconsin.
BOB TWO: Wait, wait, wait. I feel like I’ve been here before. I’m experiencing déjà vu.
BOB ONE: Again?
BOB TWO: Yes.
BOB ONE: Again?
BOB TWO: Yes.
BOB ONE: I don’t feel it.
BOB TWO: It’s gone.
BOB ONE: Shall we move on then?
BOB TWO: Whatever you say, Bob One. You’re the announcer and I’m the sidekick. We’re the Batman and Robin of public television.
BOB ONE: Who?
BOB TWO: We’re the Batman and Robin of public television. It’s happening again.
BOB ONE: Why don’t you take your medication, Bob Two, while I introduce tonight’s program? Tonight we are proud to present the latest in our illustrious series, How to Properly Woo a Woman. These pieces are designed to instruct you, our esteemed audience, on the way to properly woo a woman. Now, you may ask, how can I, the common man that I am, learn to properly woo a woman.
BOB TWO: This series is the Middle Ages precursor to How to Pick Up Chicks, which I’m sure all of you read in high school. Last week, I learned how to seduce a dame. But this week, I’d like to know, how do you properly woo a woman?
BOB ONE: I am so glad you asked, my young sidekick—my robin?—I am so glad indeed. I am going to show you how to properly woo a woman.
BOB TWO: Please do.
BOB ONE: And now, without further adieu . . .
BOB TWO: Good, we’ve been adeiu’ing all night.
BOB ONE: And now . . .
BOB TWO: Don’t.
BOB ONE: . . . How to Properly Woo a Woman.
(A WOMAN enters from downstage left; as she passes by them they start to yell—BOB ONE first, followed by BOB TWO)
BOB ONE: Woo!! Woo!!
BOB TWO: Wooooo!
BOTH: Woo! Woooo! Etc.
(The WOMAN exits, followed by BOB TWO; pause)
BOB ONE: Thank you. Please join us again next week for our two-part segment, How to Woo a Proper Woman, followed by the old, but still very effective, How to Initiate Intercourse.
OFF STAGE VOICE (as the lights fade to black): Morality Play, Life’s Little Interludes, and How to Properly Woo a Woman are registered trademarks of Morality, Incorporated. No part of this may be copied, distributed, or otherwise infringed upon without the express written consent of Morality, Incorporated and Monday Night Football. No actual women were harmed in the making of this film. Cartoon weeds disappear faster than real ones.
(Lights are at black)
INTERLUDE: WOMAN WAITING AT A BUS STOP
(Lights up on WOMAN waiting at a bus stop; two man pass behind her)
WOMAN: Excuse me, does anyone know the way to Trafalgar Square? Piccadilly Circus? The London Eye? Excuse me.
(Two men notice the woman and stop)
WOMAN: I appear to be lost.
MAN ONE: Well, then, excuse me, lass, if you’d care to follow me for a pint of lager I can show ya the way I can.
WOMAN: No, I don’t drink beer and go off with strangers.
MAN TWO: Would you care for a spot of tea?
WOMAN: Tea would be nice, but no thank you.
MAN TWO: Wine, my dear?
WOMAN: Wine would be nice as well, but no.
MAN ONE (digging in his pocket): Care for a piece of mutton?
MAN TWO: Piss off. Please leave the dear woman alone.
MAN ONE: All right then, I’ll have a go at it.
MAN TWO: Right.
WOMAN: Oh, please, you don’t have to do that for my sake. This is no the Middle Ages anymore.
(MAN ONE punches MAN TWO in the face)
MAN TWO: Tosser.
MAN ONE: I’ll kick you in the face.
MAN TWO: I’ve no doubt you will. You’re a strapping young lad.
MAN ONE: T’aint so bad yourself for an aristocrat.
MAN TWO: Thank you. I must say your muscles appear rather large.
MAN ONE: All of ‘em, if you know what I mean.
MAN TWO: Say, what are you doing at this moment? Would you care to join me at my place for a touch of tea.
MAN ONE: That sounds right gentleman’ly. I’ll come right around.
MAN TWO (holding out his arm): Do come with me.
(MAN ONE and MAN TWO exit arm-in-arm)
WOMAN: British men are so cold.
(Lights out)
WOMAN (in the dark): Could anyone tell me the way to the tube?
MINI-SCENE: ME
(Lights up on an empty stage; ME enters and stands up center; after a moment MINI-ME enters and stands behind him)
ME: Me.
MINI-ME: Mini-Me.
ME: Me.
MINI-ME: Middle Age Me.
(Lights fade to black)
SCENE: CASTLE (A PSYCHOMACHIA)
VICE (in the dark): Do it, go do it. You know you want to.
VIRTUE (in the dark): No, don’t. You can resist. You’re better than that.
VICE: I said do it.
VIRTUE: Don’t you dare.
VICE: Do it.
VIRTUE: Don’t.
VICE: Do.
VIRTUE: Not.
(We hear a piercing scream as the lights come up on PERSON; she is standing in the middle of the room, motionless; VICE and VIRTUE are on opposite sides of her)
PERSON: Leave me alone, please, both of you. Just let me be myself.
VICE: I’m just making a suggestion.
VIRTUE: A temptation.
(During the following PERSON’s body is pushed and pulled in various directions)
VICE: A suggestion. Go buy a lottery ticket. What’s the harm?
VIRTUE: You can’t afford it.
(HUSBAND enters and watches her flailing about; he does not see the others)
VICE: You have money.
VIRTUE: It’s a tax on the poor.
VICE: It’s a donation to the state.
VIRTUE: You’ll just waste your money.
VICE: You could win millions. You could donate to the poor.
(HUSBAND steps toward PERSON as she whirls around and screams)
PERSON: Leave me alone! I hate you!
(Beat)
HUSBAND: Hi, honey, I’m home. (She screams again) What did I do this time?
PERSON: Oh, nothing. I was just talking.
HUSBAND: With . . . ?
PERSON: Our neighbor, outside the window there. (As HUSBAND starts toward the window) Good-bye!!! Thanks for stopping. I mean, I hate you! Leave me alone, you bad, bad neighbor.
HUSBAND: We have good neighbors.
PERSON: What makes you think so?
HUSBAND: We have good fences.
(PERSON stares at HUSBAND blankly; beat)
PERSON: I have to go buy lottery tickets.
VICE: Don’t tell him, you idiot.
VIRTUE: At least it was honest.
HUSBAND: You said you would stop.
VICE: He’s on to you. Lie, now!
PERSON: Stop what?
HUSBAND: Buying lottery tickets.
VIRTUE: Don’t lie. Just change the subject.
PERSON: What are you talking about?
VICE: Lie. It’s the only way.
PERSON: I said laundry and dishes.
HUSBAND: You have to buy laundry?
VIRTUE: You might as well be honest. Tell him what you said.
PERSON: I was going to go and spend money on . . .
VICE: No!!!!!
PERSON: No.
HUSBAND: No?
PERSON: No.
HUSBAND: No what?
PERSON: No, what?
HUSBAND: What the hell is going on with you?
PERSON: I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. I think I need one of those purple pills.
HUSBAND: Purple pills?
PERSON: Yes, on T. V., the ones that say “Ask your doctor if the purple pill is right for you.”
HUSBAND: I don’t think that’s for mental things.
PERSON: It’s purple. Little. Different. Like me.
HUSBAND: I think it’s for acid reflux.
PERSON: Does it say that? I just thought it said to ask your doctor. Maybe I should go to the doctor.
VICE: Good excuse. Then you can go get those tickets.
VIRTUE: He’ll find out you weren’t at the doctor’s.
HUSBAND: I can take you.
PERSON: I don’t have to go to the doctor.
VICE: You have to go somewhere. Tell him something. Then you can buy your tickets.
PERSON: I have to go somewhere.
HUSBAND: Where?
VIRTUE: You see what lying does?
PERSON: To the priest.
VIRTUE: That’s a great choice. I like it.
VICE: Oh, dear Lucifer, I can’t believe you said that.
HUSBAND: I’ll take you.
PERSON: What?
HUSBAND: I’ll take you, to the priest. He’ll help you out.
PERSON: Help me out? I’m not possessed or anything.
HUSBAND: Well, there’s something going on with you. Let’s go.
VICE & VIRTUE: Can we come?
PERSON: No!
HUSBAND: Honey, I think we should go. You’re having hallucinations or something. If it is demons the priest can get them out of you. It’s either that or a psychiatrist.
PERSON: Does he have those purple pills?
HUSBAND: The priest?
PERSON: The psychiatrist.
HUSBAND: No, let’s go to the priest.
VICE: I can’t believe you’re doing this. I don’t know if I can go in with you.
PERSON: I’m tired.
HUSBAND: I know. Let’s go.
(HUSBAND starts to lead PERSON off; VICE and VIRTUE follow)
VICE: You can’t get lottery tickets from the priest.
PERSON: I don’t want lottery tickets.
VIRTUE (to VICE): Bingo, that’s it! I win.
VICE (to VIRTUE): Bingo, that’s it! Not yet, you don’t. Hon, listen, they play Bingo at church. It’s not the lottery, but it’s something.
PERSON (with a tired smile): Bingo.
(As they exit a priest enters opposite; a doorbell rings)
PRIEST: Come in.
(PERSON, HUSBAND, VICE and VIRTUE all enter)
VICE: Bingo.
VIRTUE: No.
VICE: Bingo, bingo, bingo!
PERSON (screaming): Free space! Free space!
PRIEST: May I help you?
PERSON: Give me a free space, please.
PRIEST: What seems to be the problem?
HUSBAND: I believe she’s possessed. Do you have experience in this kind of thing?
PRIEST: I’ve been around awhile.
HUSBAND: How old are you?
PRIEST: I, 30.
PERSON: Bingo!
PRIEST: Are you okay?
VICE: Hey, he’s pretty handsome, isn’t he? Look at him . . . sort of sexy.
PERSON: Yes, yes, oh yes.
VIRTUE: Oh, no, don’t even go there.
VICE: I like it.
VIRTUE: That is so wrong.
PRIEST (to HUSBAND): So what seems to be the problem?
HUSBAND: She’s hearing voices or something. It’s been getting worse.
PRIEST: And what was she like . . . before . . .
PERSON: Bingo! I win. I win.
VICE: You’ll win if you seduce that guy.
VIRTUE: He’s a priest.
VICE: Even better, more of a challenge.
VIRTUE: For an adult woman maybe.
PRIEST: So?
HUSBAND: She was docile, benign.
PERSON: Bingo! I called it!
HUSBAND: Can you help?
PRIEST: I think so.
HUSBAND: How many cases have you had like this? How many exorcisms have you done?
PRIEST: Gosh, I don’t know . . . uh . . . gee, 55, 60.
PERSON: Bingo! Bingo!
PRIEST (touching her shoulder): There, there, it’s okay.
VICE: He touched you, he wants you.
VIRTUE: That was compassion.
VICE: Imagine what’s under that frock.
VIRTUE: Don’t you dare.
PRIEST: Have you seen a psychiatrist? They could give her one of those purple pills.
HUSBAND: I think those are for something else.
PRIEST: Oh.
VICE: Imagine . . .
VIRTUE: Stop it.
VICE: Imagine you getting under his frock at the same time he’s getting under your skirt.
PERSON: Oh, yes, oh, 69, oh, Bingo, Bingo, Bingo supreme.
PRIEST (suddenly grabbing her): By the power vested in me I command you to leave this body.
VICE: I will not.
PRIEST: Be gone, evil one!
(The PRIEST now sees VICE and physically starts to try to push VICE away; VICE grabs PERSON to try to hold on; VIRTUE grabs VICE from behind to help out; HUSBAND steps away; finally VICE is pushed away and PERSON falls to the floor; VICE runs over to husband immediately)
VICE: Wow, that guy’s strong for a priest, sort of sexy.
HUSBAND: Yes.
VICE: Ever have sex with a guy?
HUSBAND: Once, when I was younger, a priest.
VICE: You should try it again. You’d like it.
HUSBAND: Honey, why don’t you go wait out in the car? I’ll come in a minute.
VIRTUE: Good idea, hon. We should go home and get some rest. I think I’m on vacation now.
PERSON: Okay, dear.
(PERSON exits; VIRTUE stops at the door and turns around)
HUSBAND: You’re pretty strong for a priest.
PRIEST: Thanks, I think.
HUSBAND (stepping toward PRIEST): You know, I think I know what my wife was getting at when she blurted out 69.
PRIEST: Oh?
HUSBAND: 69.
VICE: Atta boy!
VIRTUE: Damn it! So much for vacation. (Crossing toward HUSBAND) Hey, hey, hey!
(Blackout)
INTERLUDE: WRESTLING
(Lights up an a wrestling ring)
ANNOUNCER: Welcome to Redneck Republican Wrestling at the Freedom Pavilion. Tonight’s bout features our current reigning champion, Ollie Garky (There are cheers in the background) . . . winner of several hundred consecutive matches against such opponents as Fairness, Democracy, the People, and others. Tonight’s opponent, the most formidable that Ollie has faced so far, is Conscience. (There is a smattering of boos) Weighing in at only 98 pounds Conscience is a relentless and scrappy opponent. This is going to be a good fight. Tonight’s match will be refereed by special guest, Supreme Court Justice William Rehnquist.
REHNQUIST (taking the microphone from the announcer): Before we start I think we should say a prayer and sing an anthem. Please join me. Dear Jesus, please let us win. Amen.
I wish I was in the land of cotton,
Old times there are not forgotten;
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land where I was born,
Early on one frosty mornin’;
Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land.
Then I wish I was in Dixie,
Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I’ll take my stand,
To live and die in Dixie,
Away, away, away down south in Dixie,
Away, away, away down south in Dixie.
(REHNQUIST hands the microphone back to the ANNOUNCER)
ANNOUNCER: William Rehnquist, ladies and gentlemen. (Cheers) And now, the fight you’ve all been waiting for. (Cheers) In this corner, our champion, Ollie Garky. (Loud cheers) And in this corner, Conscience. (There is dead silence) Gentlemen, you know the rules. Start when you hear the bell.
(ANNOUNCER steps back; a bell rings; the two wrestlers approach each other, looking for weaknesses; suddenly, OLLIE lunges forward and grabs CONSCIENCE’s neck; OLLIE starts to choke CONSCIENCE to death)
REHNQUIST: Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten. (As he raises OLLIE’s fist into the air) The winner.
(Blackout)
INTERLUDE: EQUAL TIME
(Lights up on a pair of television hosts)
BRIAN: Hi, I’m Brian.
JAN: Hi, I’m Jan.
BRIAN: Welcome to Equal Time, with me, Brian.
JAN: And me, Jan.
BRIAN: The show that gives an equal voice to the truth.
JAN: Non-partisan.
BRIAN: Fair and bal . . .
JAN: Uh, uh, uh. That’s copyrighted.
BRIAN: Good point, Jan.
JAN: On today’s show we’ll be focusing our attention on the other side of the argument.
BRIAN: That’s right, Jan. We all know the liberal media has been on a roll lately.
JAN: Exposing lie after lie after lie after lie after . . .
BRIAN: We get the point, Jan. Well, Equal Time delivers the truth.
JAN: And we think it’s time that someone talked about the other side of the truth, from a conservative point of view.
BRIAN: Exactly. So now, Equal Time proudly presents a showcase of every known truth told by die-hard conservatives.
JAN: How exciting, Brian.
BRIAN: Are you ready, Jan?
JAN: You bet, Brian.
BRIAN: Okay, then, let’s begin . . . truths . . . as told by true conservatives . . . and . . . go!
(Long pause)
JAN: That’s all the time we have for tonight. The hour is up.
INTERLUDE: THE NIGHT SHOW
VOICE (in the dark): And now, here’s your host of the Night Show, Jay Beano.
(Lights up; music plays; Jay enters, bows, stops the applause)
JAY: Thank you, thank you very much. You’re too kind. So, you’ve been hearing the news stories about these prisons in Iraq. It’s terrible, terrible stuff. But hey, it’s a good thing George Bush is President. If it were Clinton those prisoners would have to smoke cigars from Monica Lewinsky.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: Seriously, it’s bad. They should send Hillary there. She’s such a bitch they’d rat on their friends just to get away from her.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: If you really want to torture them, send Al Gore over to give a speech.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: We’d get all the war secrets then.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: But seriously I hope they’re not doing that stuff to Saddam Hussein. I wouldn’t want to see pictures of him naked.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: Anyway, we have a great show for you tonight as we continue Political Week on the Night Show. The Grim Reaper is here. Also we have Democratic candidate John Kerry . . . if he hasn’t changed his mind.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: And headlines. We’ll be right back.
DIRECTOR: Cut. To commercial.
JAY: Who’s the prick on the cue cards? Fire the little fucker! I wanted the goddam Clinton joke last. The Clinton jokes are always my best stuff. Everyone loves the Clinton jokes.
DIRECTOR: Actually, Jay, they’re getting a little old. We’re three years into a different presidency.
JAY: Shut the fuck up. You’re fired. Cameraman, you’re the director now.
CAMERMAN: Coming back from commercial in . . . (JAY takes a seat) five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one!
JAY: Welcome back.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: Sorry we had to go to commercial because you missed it. Bill Clinton was just here getting a blow job from one of our interns!
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. It’s time, Jay.
JAY: Time?
SYCOPHANT: Time for everybody’s favorite—Headlines!
(There is loud applause)
JAY: Okay, here we go. War in Iraq Costly . . . to Iraqi lives.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: Prison Cameras Expose Naked Truth.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: No WMDs Found.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: At Least 11,252 Killed in Iraq
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: Wait. This isn’t funny. Who put these in here? Where’s our funny headlines? And we haven’t lost that many soldiers over there anyway.
CAMERAMAN: Jay, that was civilians. 11,252 civilians as of this morning.
JAY: I knew that was too high. I knew we hadn’t lost that many soldiers.
CAMERAMAN: For soldiers, there have been 1,014 coalition soldiers lost.
JAY: That doesn’t sound right.
CAMERAMAN: Well, that’s coalition. It doesn’t count Iraqi military losses.
JAY: No, I mean it sounds high.
CAMERAMAN: Well, that counts Britain and all our allies. The U. S. has lost 894 of those.
JAY: That’s too high, too.
CAMERAMAN: Yes, it is, but it’s true.
JAY: I don’t want to hear this. You’re fired. Just like we should have done to Bill Clinton.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. And now, Jay, here’s our first guest, the Grim Reaper.
(Applause as GRIM REAPER enters and takes a seat; the GRIM REAPER is dressed in a military uniform)
JAY: I’m surprised at the outfit. Where’s your black cape and scythe?
GRIM REAPER: Well, Jay, that’s just a cartoon depiction of me. I think it started with Thomas Nast or somebody like that and nobody’s had the imagination to try anything new since then. This is one of my many costumes, but it’s the one I’ve been using most lately.
JAY: It looks nice. So, how have you been?
GRIM REAPER: Busy, Jay, very busy. Every time I think business is dying down someone does and it picks up and comes alive again.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
JAY: I love that you have a sense of humor about death.
GRIM REAPER: Well, you have to, Jay. You go around picking up bits and pieces, fragments and body parts, and you try putting them back together to send them into eternity, I don’t know. You see heads separated from their bodies, you see children so bloody you can’t tell they’re human, there’s really nothing you can do but laugh. Right? I can’t cry in my line of work.
JAY: Where have you been working lately?
GRIM REAPER: Well, all over the world, Jay. I’ve been all over the Mideast—Iraq, Israel. I’ve been to Afghanistan. All over Africa. I still stop in on places like Northern Ireland here and there. I think it’s the busiest I’ve been since the 1940’s. I’m getting tired, looking for help. I’m looking for a Grim Reaper intern.
JAY: I heard Monica Lewinsky is looking for work.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
GRIM REAPER: Anyway, I’m happy you all hate each other so much. It keeps me in work.
JAY: Well, thanks for taking the time to stop by.
GRIM REAPER: I’ll see you again someday.
SYCOPHANT (off stage): Ha . . .
JAY: I almost forgot to mention the Grim Reaper has a new book coming out. It’s called I Reap What You Sow and it’s available in bookstores now. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Grim Reaper.
(GRIM REAPER gets up and bows, then leaves)
JAY: Our next guest is the Democratic candidate for President, please welcome John Kerry.
(Applause as John Kerry enters on a bicycle; he parks it and takes a seat)
JOHN: Hi, Jay.
JAY: Wow, that was quite an entrance. You’re just a regular guy, like one of us.
JOHN: I am, Jay.
JAY: No, you’re not.
JOHN: Well, that’s true.
JAY: So, what’s it feel like running for President?
JOHN: It’s good and bad.
JAY: Let’s talk politics. What’s your stance on abortion?
JOHN: I’m for it, but I’ll appoint judges who will undermine it.
JAY: What do you feel about the Catholic bishop who said you shouldn’t be allowed Communion because of your stance on abortion?
JOHN: I’m a Catholic, but like most Catholics I ignore the Church when it’s convenient.
JAY: How about gay marriage?
JOHN: Jay, I’m against it—marriage is marriage—but I think those people should have the right to be together in relationships.
JAY: The war in Iraq?
JOHN: I’m against it. I voted for it.
JAY: The Patriot Act?
JOHN: I’m against it. I voted for it.
JAY: No Child Left Behind.
JOHN: I’m against it. I voted for it.
JAY: What party are you?
JOHN: I’m against . . . I’m a . . . Wait, is this a trick question?
JAY: Any final words before you go?
JOHN: Be against Bush. Vote for me.
JAY: Ladies and gentlemen, John Kerry. (A smattering of applause as he walks his bicycle off stage) Join us again tomorrow night when we continue Political Week here at the Night Show. Our guests will be the highly respected and objective journalist, Bill O’Reilly, and Carrot Top. Good night.
(Applause as the lights go to black)
(Lights up on Ashton Kutcher)
ASHTON: Remember when you were a little kid and you liked to scare the hell out of your mom or your sister. Huh!?!? Huh? Remember that? It rocked, I swear to God, watching them jump out of their shoes and stuff. Well, it ain’t just little girls that get scared. Sometimes big boys do cry, when they have the crap scared out of them. We set up movie star, Avery Mann, with a little help from one of his friends. You’re gonna love this. He went to the doctor. We’re all scared of the doctor, right? So he went to the doctor, except the doctor was our man, and the doctor was ready to tell him he had days, maybe even hours, possibly even minutes, to live. So you’re just told you’re about to die, you’re heading down the path of life to death’s door and the doctor leaves the room and you have time to think and who should walk in the room but death himself. It’d scare the crap outta me. Watch. Watch.
(ASHTON steps off to the side and puts headphones on; he will be giving instructions during this; a man dressed as a DOCTOR enters and takes his place; AVERY MAN enters; he is wearing a hospital gown)
DOCTOR: Good afternoon, Mr. Mann. How are you doing? Wait, wait, wait. I know. I’m the doctor.
AVERY MANN: Oh, good, you’re joking.
DOCTOR: I always do that when I’m nervous. I’m afraid . . .
AVERY MANN: Yes?
DOCTOR: Yes.
AVERY MANN: Yes?
DOCTOR: Yes, I am. Afraid. Aren’t we all.
AVERY MANN: Do you have results?
DOCTOR: For what?
AVERY MANN: From my tests.
DOCTOR: Oh, that, yes. I’m avoiding it.
AVERY MANN: Why?
DOCTOR: Well, I have good news and bad news.
AVERY MANN: And?
DOCTOR: Which do you want first?
AVERY MANN: The good news. I’m not sure I’m ready for the bad news.
DOCTOR: The good news is you’re going to live a lot, lot, lot, lot longer than what I thought at first.
AVERY MANN: Oh, thank you. What’s the bad news.
DOCTOR: I thought you only had minutes.
(Pause)
AVERY MANN: What?
DOCTOR: Minutes. I thought you had minutes.
ASHTON: Tell him he has weeks at most . . .
DOCTOR: You have weeks at most . . .
ASHTON: Days at best . . .
DOCTOR: Days at best . . .
ASHTON: Possibly hours . . .
DOCTOR: Possibly hours. But you have more minutes than I thought.
AVERY MANN: I’m going to have a heart attack.
DOCTOR: That could make it minutes.
ASHTON: Tell him you have to leave.
DOCTOR: I have to go.
AVERY MANN: What?
DOCTOR: The bathroom. I’ll be back in minutes. Don’t go away.
(He exits)
(AVERY MANN starts crying, pounding the floor, wailing; meanwhile, ASHTON is rolling around the floor laughing; suddenly DEATH enters)
AVERY MANN: Who are you?
DEATH: Death.
AVERY MANN: What? I must be dreaming.
DEATH: Young man, you best get your house in order. Reconcile with your maker. Prepare yourself for a journey.
AVERY MANN: This can’t be happening. Death isn’t some being that can walk and talk.
DEATH: I am what I am. Right now I’m your only friend.
AVERY MANN: I have friends. Watch.
(He pulls out a cell phone and dials; a phone rings; ASHTON answers)
ASHTON: Yo, Kutcher here.
AVERY MANN: Ashton, dude, look, I gotta talk to you. I’m dying.
ASHTON: I heard. Listen, man, I can’t deal with death. I gotta go. (He suppresses a laugh)
AVERY MANN: Dude, you can’t do that to me!
ASHTON: No, really. The guys are all over here. We heard you were sick. No one wants to be around you. Bad karma, you know? (He suppresses more laughter)
AVERY MANN: Hey, I really need somebody right now.
ASHTON: Sorry, man.
(He hangs up; AVERY MANN dials again)
AVERY MANN: I’ll call my family.
(An answering machine picks up)
ANSWERING MACHINE: Hi, this is Mom and Dad. If this is Avery we’ve adopted a new son. It was nice having you but you haven’t been around in a while so we’ve given up on you. Good luck with everything and we love you. For anyone else, please leave a message and we’ll get back to you as soon as we possibly can.
DEATH: Sorry, but I told you so.
AVERY MANN: Shut the fuck up, Death. (Pause) Wait. Is this happening? Did I just say that?
DEATH: Come with me. We have a journey to make.
AVERY MANN: Just a second. I have to get my clothes.
DEATH: You won’t need them.
AVERY MANN: My wallet and cell phone are in my pants.
DEATH: You won’t need them.
(AVERY MANN screams, but starts to follow DEATH)
AVERY MANN: I’m too young to die.
DEATH: Look, I’m an equal opportunity employer. Young, old, I don’t care.
AVERY MANN: I don’t deserve this. I’m a good guy. Really, I am.
DEATH: You’ve done some good, but you’re a sinner, too.
AVERY MANN: Not really.
DEATH: I’ll be you’ve cheated on your girlfriend.
AVERY MANN: No, I haven’t.
DEATH: Sure.
AVERY MANN: Okay, just that once. With Ashton’s girl.
(ASHTON stops giggling)
ASHTON: Tell that fucker his last couple hours are going to be fuckin’ painful.
DEATH: Your last hours are going to be fucking painful.
AVERY MANN: Oh, great. I’m scared to die. I’m scared.
DEATH: Well, if you’re sorry for being a bastard it might be all right in the next life.
AVERY MANN: Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. Whatever. I’ll do anything.
ASHTON: Anything?
DEATH: Anything.
ASHTON: Tell him to suck your dick.
DEATH: I will not.
AVERY MANN: Will not what?
ASHTON: Tell him.
DEATH: Tell you to suck my dick.
AVERY MANN: Okay.
(He falls to his knees)
DEATH & ASHTON: Okay?
AVERY MANN: Sure, if it’ll save me.
DEATH: Get up. I appreciate the offer. You may get into heaven now.
AVERY MANN: Oh, thank you. I’m losing my wits.
DEATH: And your youth and beauty. You’re fading before my very eyes.
ASHTON: Tell him to lay down.
DEATH: Lay down.
AVERY MANN: Lay down?
DEATH: It’s time.
AVERY MANN (half-screaming): No, no, it can’t be, no, no.!!
(A woman enters dressed as an ANGEL; she crosses to AVERY MANN)
ANGEL: Avery Mann? Avery Mann?
AVERY MANN: Did I die? Are you an angel?
ANGEL: I am an Angel of Death. (She starts to sing Ode to Joy)
AVERY MANN: Please stop! What’s going on here? Am I dead?
ANGEL: No, you’re not dead.
DEATH: In fact, you’re not dying.
AVERY MANN: What?
ASHTON (rushing in): You’re punked!
AVERY MANN: You fucker. I’m going to kill you.
(AVERY MANN chases Ashton off stage, with DEATH and ANGEL following; the DOCTOR re-enters)
DOCTOR: That’s it for this week. So what do we take from this? What’s the moral of our story. I guess it’s just this. Don’t believe anything you hear. Don’t believe anything you see. Don’t believe anything until you know for yourself what it means.
(ASHTON runs across the stage followed by AVERY MANN, DEATH, and ANGEL; lights go to black)
EPILOGUE: LECTURE/NOH THEATER
PROFESSOR BORDENOV: Now, as I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted . . .
(ACTRESS runs onto the stage and looks around as if to hide; she exits; MAN runs on screaming)
MAN: No! (He looks around and doesn’t see her; he looks at PROFESSOR BORDENOV and screams) Noh theater! (He races off stage)
PROFESSOR BORDENOV: Idiots.
(Blackout)