ACT TWO
Scene 1
PLACARD: ‘18 OCTOBER 1939. THE FUTURE ASSASSIN OF OUR PRESIDENT IS DELIVERED FROM HIS MOTHER’S WOMB.' A bedroom. WIFE and K in bed. K’s ambassadorial clothes draped over a chair. ENTER O in bathrobe and bare feet.
O: [Childlike hereafter.] Help me—help me!
K: Who the hell are you?
O: I’m cold—I’m freezing—
WIFE: Move over and let him in the bed with us, honey.
K: The hell I will! [Leaves bed, begins to dress.] Are you going to explain what this is all about?
WIFE: He’s our baby—our son!
K: Are you crazy?
WIFE: [Helping O into bed.] Come, darling, get under the covers with Mommie.
K: What do you mean, "our" baby?
WIFE: Such things happen when men and women do what you and I have been doing.
K: Not like this; a bolt out of the blue!
WIFE: See how much he looks like you?
K: I don’t see any resemblance!
WIFE: He’s your son, alright. Take it from me; I ought to know.
K: This makes life complicated. I’ve got a fucking migraine and I’m due at the embassy. Everything is falling apart. The Krauts are marching into the Rhineland, another French government is going down the toilet—and now this!
WIFE: Are you coming back here tonight? If so I’ll need some things. Diapers, nipples, bottles—and a rattle might be nice. I recall having one when I was a baby.
K: I don’t know. I’ll see. I can’t think right now. You should have told me about this sooner. A man has a right to know—
WIFE: I won’t let it happen again. You’ve been out of town so much it just slipped my mind.
K: The whole world is collapsing and we’ve brought another goddamn baby into it!
EXIT K.
WIFE: Don’t worry about your dad, his bark is worse than his bite. You’ll get to like him. He’s a very successful man.
O: I think he hates me.
WIFE: It’s not hate. Some men are afraid of babies, that’s all. Paternity frightens them because being a father has its godlike attributes and they don’t think they can measure up to such celestial standards. But they get over it—are you warm now?
O: Yes. It’s nice being in bed with you. It was terrible being alone. So cold and dark. Where did you go?
WIFE: They took you away from me for a little while so I could have a rest, that’s all. It’s very tiring giving birth. But we will be together all the time now, sweetheart—[From nightstand she lights cigarette, sips drink.] Everything will be perfect from now on. Tonight your father will bring you a baby rattle and we will all be together, the 3 of us—a real family. The father, the mother and the little baby! [Touches O’s nose with finger.] Now close your eyes and go to sleep.
O: I’m afraid to close my eyes. It gets all dark when I do and I am all alone in a dark forest; fierce animals are chasing me. Their yellow eyes and fangs shine in the dark!
WIFE: That was before; now that I’m with you there is nothing to be afraid of. There is no forest, no wild animals.
O: They’re outside—surrounding the house!
WIFE: [Goes to window.] Come here and see for yourself. The world outside couldn’t be nicer!
O: Don’t leave me! [Beckons WIFE to return, then reluctantly joins her at window.]
WIFE: That’s it my little man—come on—[She and O gaze at audience through ‘window’ downstage.] See all those friendly faces out there? They’re people; just like we are! The world is full of them. They won’t let the wolves eat you up! And there are no forests anymore! As you can see, the landscape we live in looks just like the pictures in a storybook. It’s full of leafy green trees and wellkept lawns and houses full of mothers and fathers and babies; families just like us. And there’s a policeman down there to protect us from coming to any harm! And beyond the city limits there is something called the countryside; all grassy and dotted with lakes full of fish for frying, and farms full of cows and sheep who provide us with their milk and wool. That’s the world you’ve been born into, my son! A fairytale world, a garden of Eden—a paradise on earth!
O: What’s up there?
WIFE: That is the sky. Its fleecy clouds bring us rain and snow; and its birds fly down to eat corn out of your hand and serenade you with their sweet songs!
O: And beyond the sky?
WIFE: High above the sky there’s a magical kingdom called "heaven" where God rules the universe surrounded by galaxies of stars. Tonight you will see those stars shaping themselves into the most amazing pictures. Believe me, the world is the happiest of all places when you are a baby.
O: How long will I be a baby?
WIFE: A few years. Then you will be a little boy going off to school with other children to play in sandboxes and learn more about this wonderful life of ours. Then you will become a young man, eager to make your mark in the world. And some day you will fall in love with a woman and have a son just like yourself.
O: And after that? What happens after I become a father?
WIFE: Many things—many things that aren’t important right now. Do you think you can close your eyes and go to sleep now?
O: Yes. I’m not frightened anymore. I can see the sheep and cows and the stars and a policeman whose vigilance will protect me from the forces of evil
O and WIFE return to bed. Phone on bedside table rings. WIFE answers it.
WIFE: My God!
O: What’s the matter, mother?
WIFE: Your father’s been killed. He’s dead!
O: What’s "dead," mother?
WIFE: I’ve got to think. Something must be done. We’ll need money to buy food and pay the rent. I’ll have to find work—
ENTER SONS 1 & 2 in U.S. Marine uniforms. Both have been drinking.
SON 1: Hello ma!
SON 2: We’re home from the wars!
WIFE: Jesus, am I glad to see you two!
SON 1: Just got into town and thought we’d look you up, old girl.
SON 2: We’ve got a two week furlough.
WIFE: Two weeks isn’t much time but it’ll have to do until I can find another husband.
SON 1: Listen Ma, the fact is we’re flat broke and need a little loan. [Auto horn sounds.]
SON 2: Believe it or not Ma, we both just got married this morning.
SON 1: Our brides are waiting outside in the car. They were waitresses at the same bar. Isn’t that a coincidence?
SON 2: We’re headed for Niagara Falls but we need some cash for gas and a hotel—
WIFE: You got married at a time like this? Are you drunk or crazy? I haven’t got a dime. Your stepfather is dead. I’ve got to support your baby brother.
SON 1: None of that’s our fault!
SON 2: We’re entitled to have a happy honeymoon! [Auto horn sounds.]
WIFE: Listen, you apes, you’ve got to help your mother out. Just get me over the hump and then you can have your honeymoons. [Auto horn sounds.]
SON 1: They’re getting impatient.
SON 2: We could take some of these family "heirlooms" and pawn them!
SONS start looting bedroom.
SON 1: Yeah, let’s liberate our share of this crap—
WIFE: What are you doing! [Tries to intervene but is pushed aside by SONS.]
SON 1: Pop’s dead. We’re claiming our inheritance, that’s all.
SON 2: You always said he’d leave us a legacy. [Auto horn sounds several times.]
SON 1: We’re even now Ma, all right? This settles the score. You don’t owe us and we don’t owe you.
SON 2: Come on! Come on!
EXIT SONS with furniture, and pillowcases stuffed with ‘booty.’
O: They hurt you—
WIFE: I’m alright. Everything will be alright. But I must go out now and find some work.
O: You’re leaving me all alone!
WIFE: That’s the way it has to be! War has been declared. It’s an all out fight for our survival now! Go to sleep. I’ll be back later. [O cries, WIFE slaps him.] Stop that! You’re a big boy! Here’s a book. Read it. [EXIT.]
O sobs, turns pages of book. Fade to BLACK.
Scene 2
PLACARD: ‘THE FUTURE ASSASSIN IS RESCUED FROM AN ENCHANTED FOREST.' The stage is dark. We discern tree shapes, the glaring eyes and fangs of wolves. Snarling wild animals is heard. O still wears bathrobe.
O: Help! Help! Mama! The wolves!
M [Off.] : Hello? Where are you? Who’s calling?
O: Mama help!
ENTER M with lantern.
M: Don’t be frightened. I will lead you out of the forest. There is nothing to be afraid of.
O: [Gradually becoming more adult.] My mother brought me here and left me! The wolves want to eat me up!
M: The wolves have been frightened away by the light of my lantern.
O: Why did she leave me here?
M: I don’t know about mothers. I don’t have one. My mother was killed in the war many years ago. She went out digging for potatoes one day and never came back.
O: It’s rotten being left alone like that.
M: Yes, it’s rotten.
O: Promise you will never abandon me.
M: That’s a lot to ask of me on our first date!
O: I love you! I want to marry you!
M: Are you sure you love me?
O: Yes! Yes!
M: But I don’t know about you—
O: You’ll see. I worship the ground upon which you stand. I will work and buy you pretty things.
M: Can we have a honeymoon?
O: A honeymoon! Yes! Niagara Falls here we come!
M: No, there is a better place. It’s called the Promised Land. It’s the most beautiful place on earth. People are happy all the time there. The sun is bright and warm in winter. The breezes are cool in summer. Every child has a mother and father. There is no death there. And all the wolves are locked up in a zoo!
O: Alright, let’s go!
O and M skip off happily hand-in-hand.
Scene 3
PLACARD: ‘THE HONEYMOONERS VISIT THE PALACE OF REVOLUTIONARY MARTYRS.' Several bodies lying in state under glass. ENTER O and M with TOUR GUIDE.
GUIDE: As clients of the Ace Honeymoon Service you have been shown the many materialistic miracles of our socialist society. You have seen the highrise apartment houses, the superuniversities, mills, factories, hydroelectric plants and scientific dairies. But the highlight of this Tour is to be here among the saintly remains of the men who made it all possible; the martyrs of the social revolution. [Leads O and M to mummified cadavers.] This man was a humble street fighter. This one a pamphleteer. Him, an organizer of labor. He, a famous assassin. And this is the hero of heroes who gave meaning to all of their martyrdom. He tied all of their loose revolutionary ends together so to speak, and made a neat package out of them. Press that button over there—[O presses button.]
LENIN [via recording.]: Welcome to my resting place comrades! It warms my heart to see you in such good health and high spirits. Your welfare was always my principal concern, of course. You, the common people, were what our revolution was all about! It is only through you that I will live forever! Comrades! You are building a soviet oasis in a vast social desert. Soon the entire world will thirst to drink at your pool. Be ready for them. Show them the way to truth and socio-economic justice! That is all I have to say at this time, comrades. Please come again to visit me. You will find me here every day from 10 to 4:30.
M: Did you see that? His lips were actually moving!
O: How wonderful it must be to lie there for all eternity and be venerated by an endless stream of people. What man wouldn’t happily sacrifice himself to enjoy such a fate!
GUIDE: Yes, but he was no ordinary man. His autopsy revealed scientific evidence of certain superhuman configurations in the cranial region—
O: I’m telling you I’ve got what it takes! Someday I will make history!
GUIDE: If you’re serious about that, there is a woman I know who can determine from the shape of your skull what kind of a brain you’ve got. But if we visit her it means skipping the State fish hatcheries.
M: I don’t think it’s a good idea letting some crackpot make remarks about your brain.
O: I’m not afraid of what she’ll find. I know what’s inside of my skull! Take us to her!
BLACKOUT.
Scene 4
PLACARD: 'O HAS HIS HEAD EXAMINED.' The studio of a Slavic mystic. MADAM X seated. Two large charts of phrenology and palmistry. ENTER GUIDE and O.
GUIDE: Madam X, I’e brought with me an individual in need of having his head examined! [Winks at her.] He claims to have exceptional mental powers which he wants you to verify.
MADAM X: Sit down. My fee is $20.
O pays. MADAM X feels his skull using fingers and calipers, consulting large book; makes notes.
MADAM X: By calculating the shape of your skull we can make certain predictions concerning the scope and future development of your mental powers. In this book are recorded no less than 30,000 case histories bearing out that truth. I have measured the skulls of great lovers, artists, scientists, statesmen; and the skulls of thieves, murderers, fools and idiots. There can be no doubt about it. A man’s destiny is formed by the shape of his head.
O: And what is mine—what is my destiny?
MADAM X: Are you sure you want to know? Such knowledge can be a dangerous thing. Not everyone should know the truth.
O: I can handle it. Tell me.
MADAM X: Well—your brain is quite remarkable! It shows exceptional development in the area of politics and action. In short, you have the ingredients common to men who take the fate of other men in their own hands. Now, let me see your palm. That will tell the rest of the story. [Examines O’s palm.]
O: What do you see?
MADAM X: [Reluctant to be truthful.] Just a minute please! This much I can tell you; by all men you will be known. Your deeds will be of great historical consequence.
O: Can’t you be more specific? Are we talking about conventional politics or some sort of revolutionary role—
MADAM X: I’ve told you all I can—the rest will be revealed to you soon enough.
O: I must tell my wife the good news! [EXIT.]
GUIDE: My commission—
MADAM X: Here, take it.
GUIDE: That was a beautiful performance! You really are an actress of the first magnitude!
MADAM X: I told him the truth!
GUIDE: That clown is going to be famous?
MADAM X: Famous—or infamous. His kind of greatness runs deep into the lower depths. His skull is warm to the touch. Inside it his brain smolders. Someday it will explode! [She puts burning stick of incense to dish of magnesium; there is a blinding flash, then BLACKOUT.]
Scene 5
PLACARD: ‘O IS A VICTIM OF INJUSTICE IN THE LAND OF SOCIAL JUSTICE.' GUIDE, O and M on pavement outside hotel.
GUIDE: It’s been a hectic day, folks, but now you lovebirds are back at your nest. You can freshen up for cocktails and dinner and have the entire evening to yourselves! So, if there’s nothing else I can do for you tonight, I’ll present you with my bill and be going home—
O: My wallet’s gone!
M: Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?
GUIDE: No, he’s right. Look. Somebody has slit your pocket with a razor and picked you clean. A professional job alright. But you were the perfect victim with that bulging back pocket of yours. Such a fat pig was bound to have its throat cut!
O: What are we going to do? Every cent I had was in that wallet!
GUIDE: You mean you can’t pay me?
O: You should have warned us Moscow was crawling with pickpockets!
GUIDE: I thought you were smart enough to realize how dangerous life in a big city can be with that big brain of yours!
O: I don’t have to take your insults!
GUIDE: When you can’t afford to buy compliments you must take whatever’s offered! I could have you jailed for fraud you miserable doublecrosser! I’ve got a family to feed. What are they going to eat for supper?
M: Can’t we settle this quickly? I need a bath. I’m covered with grime. I could use a stiff drink. I’m getting a headache. Is this how you treat a bride on her honeymoon?
GUIDE: What do you expect, having married a loser like this? He’s nothing but a disaster waiting to happen. Your whole life will be spent in situations like this—
O: How would you like your nose flattened, wise guy!
GUIDE: There, you see? He’s compensating for his shortcomings with this show of belligerence! It’s a classic symptom.
M: I’m going to faint from hunger!
O: I’ve got a dime left. I’ll call the Palace of Justice and let them handle this. [EXIT.]
GUIDE: [Calling.] I’ve got a good mind to call the cops myself and prosecute you! [To M.] In this town they can be pretty tough on indigents.
M: But it wasn’t our fault. It was an act of providence.
GUIDE: Somebody has to be blamed.
M: Then blame the pickpocket.
GUIDE: How could any criminal resist such an easy mark? Besides, I don’t know who the pickpocket is. [Pause.] Listen, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll forget about what your husband owes me in exchange for a kiss.
M: Don’t be absurd! I was just married this morning. My Groom and I haven’t even been to bed yet. What kind of a girl do you think I am?
GUIDE: You tell me!
M: I’ve never kissed any man. I’ve been saving that first kiss for my husband.
GUIDE: A kiss like that would be worth the price I’m paying! Otherwise, believe me, I could make trouble for you. If I tell the hotel you’re broke they’ll throw you out bag and baggage!
M: You wouldn’t! We have no place to go!
GUIDE: Just give me that kiss and everything will be O.K. Don’t be a puritan! Just one quick meeting of our lips and I’ll be on my way.
M: [Pause.] Alright, but hurry. My husband will be coming back.
GUIDE kisses M passionately. His hands go up her dress. He fondles her breasts. M resists in vain, then kicks GUIDE in groin. He backs off, holds his groin and smiles.
GUIDE: Who taught you that little trick? You know something about men after all, don’t you, my little puritan! Where we’re most vulnerable for instance? We’ll meet again some day, you adorable bitch!
EXIT GUIDE. ENTER O.
O: The Palace of Justice! What a laugh! They said if we were really destitute the thing to do would be to steal someone else’s wallet! What’s the matter with you?
M: Nothing. I’m just tired, dirty and hungry.
O: Things will work out alright. I’ll think of something.
They cross to hotel lobby where CLERK ENTERS to meet them.
O: The key to room 312, please.
CLERK: 312—[Takes note from pigeonhole.] I’m sorry, but I must ask you to pay for your room in advance. Just a technicality we neglected when you checked in.
O: My wallet was just stolen.
CLERK: Really? That’s too bad.
O: I’m having some money sent to us by my mother.
CLERK: Yes, well, when it arrives—
O: In the meantime, my wife is tired and would like to take a bath.
CLERK: I’m afraid the rules don’t permit occupancy until payment is made in advance.
M: Don’t argue with him! There is another hotel across the street.
O: We’d like to have our luggage.
CLERK: I’m sorry. But you already owe us for one day’s lodging. When you pay for that we will relinquish your property.
O: Don’t you understand? We’re on our honeymoon! My wallet’s been stolen!
CLERK: We’re running a hotel, not a hospital for life’s casualties!
M faints. BLACKOUT.
Scene 6
PLACARD: ‘O IS BAITED LIKE A BEAR.' O and M asleep in gutter. A CROWD has gathered around them. KEYSTONE KOP ENTERS, pokes O with nightstick.
KOP: Hey! Wake up there! Wake up!
O: What? What’s going on?
KOP: This is a public thoroughfare, not a hotel.
O: We had no place to go. We were forced to sleep on the curb.
KOP: More than sleeping going on here! Button up that fly! Or were you thinking of charging admission for this show?
CROWD laughs.
O: We came here on our honeymoon and someone stole my wallet.
KOP: Is that the best story you can come up with?
O: It’s the truth!
KOP: Maybe that’s why you’re not winning popularity contests—you haven’t got any imagination! We want to hear a good story.
CROWD laughs
O: Shut up, you bastards! We’ve had all we can take of your ridicule and abuse!
KOP: So have we! [Beats O with billy club.] That’s how we teach manners here, comrade. Learn the lesson good and keep your trap shut or we’ll sew it shut!
CROWD: Yes, sew his mouth shut! Here’s a needle. And some thread!
O: What kind of madhouse is this? Am I having a nightmare? Are you real? Barbarians! Wolves with yellow fangs!
KOP: I gave you fair warning! One more word and I’ll break your ribs! I’ll gouge your eyes out! I’ll crush your manhood!
CROWD approves.
O: Gouge my eyes out? Smash my manhood? Why don’t you murder me as long as you’re at it! What have I done? I’m the victim, not you. A thief stole my money. We came here to be happy for just a few short days. That’s all we wanted. And now you want to humiliate me! Why? I’m asking you, why!
KOP: Since you ask, I’ll tell you: we smell something coming from you that’s foul, like the odor of death. You’ve got a curse on you, the curse of Cain! And one day that curse of yours will come crashing down on our heads in an avalanche of misery and destruction. Just to be near you is to risk disaster.
M: [Awakening.] What’s happening? What are you saying? This is my husband. He’s just an ordinary human being.
KOP: As ordinary as the bear who claws your face off. He should be kept at the end of a pole, this husband of yours.
M: My husband wouldn’t hurt a fly! That’s his trouble. He lets bullies like you push him around.
KOP: Of course he wouldn’t hurt a fly! To him the world is a garden of Eden, where you just pluck the fruit off the trees when you’re hungry. Then, when he realizes the hard facts of life, he goes off his nut and becomes a revolutionary, burning cities, murdering people by the millions; but never harming a single fly! [CROWD laughs.] A thief we can tolerate. He steals because he has a passion for life. But your husband is the type who can’t cope with his fucked-up life, so he tries to destroy it.
O: I’ll show you I’m no threat. I’ll kill myself on the spot. I don’t want to live in the same world with you!
M: No, no! Think of me!
WIFE: [As member of crowd, to KOP.] Aren’t you going to stop him from committing suicide?
KOP: He’s better off dead. He’s a dead man already!
O wrenches free from M’s grasp, slashes his wrists with knife. Blood spurts onto CROWD, which disperses, except for WIFE.
O: There! You wanted my blood! Now taste it, vampires! [Collapses.]
WIFE: [To M.] Help me bandage his wrists—you’re not a widow yet! [Makes bandages from dress. BLACKOUT.]
Scene 7
PLACARD: ‘O’s WOUNDS ARE BANDAGED AND IN TIME HEAL.' M and WIFE ENTER an apartment carrying O.
WIFE: Set him down here on my bed.
M: Are you sure he’ll be all right?
WIFE: These wounds aren’t very deep. It takes a lot to kill a man. I had a husband once whose head was crushed by a steel beam so that both his eyes were on the same side of his head. He looked like a flounder. Most of his brains had oozed out of his skull. But he hung on for three years that way.
M: I don’t know what we’re going to do!
WIFE: Keep going child. Don’t think about these little adversities. That’s his trouble. He thinks too much.
M: Who?
WIFE: Him. Your husband. My son.
M: Your son!
WIFE: You think I’d go to all this trouble for a stranger? He’s got blood on my sheet!
M: I don’t understand—
WIFE: Let’s see what we can do about supper. Do you cook?
M: We were just married. We ate in restaurants. It was our honeymoon.
WIFE: Well, the honeymoon’s over. Give a hand with these spuds. [Gives M bowl of potatoes.]
M: They’re rotten!
WIFE: Yes. Just like expensive cheese! When they’re this far gone you don’t even have to cook ’em! It’s another of life’s blessings in disguise!
M: Isn’t there anything else to eat? What’s that you’re cooking?
WIFE: A stew of octopus tentacles and bull’s balls.
M: I’m not hungry.
WIFE: There’s only enough for one anyway, but I’m willing to share it if you want some. It’s really not bad when you lace it with curry powder and garlic—the god’s gift to those they make eat tainted meat!
M: Does life have to be like this? So hard?
WIFE: Must be—it’s been like this since time immemorial. Dig in if you want, or believe me, I’ll eat the whole pot. This is breakfast, lunch and dinner.
M: Is there any milk or bread?
WIFE: Look in the cupboard.
M: [Looks in cupboard, screams.] There’s a skull in there!
WIFE: I keep it to remind me there are some things worse than this stew!
M: I’ve got to eat something—
WIFE: I’m through coaxing you.
M: [Fills bowl with stew.] Aagh! It’s full of gristle!
WIFE: What were you raised on—truffles and pate de foi gras?
M: I had it rough. I was a war orphan.
WIFE: And now you think your troubles are over! You’ve had your quota of hard times! When you married my son you thought of yourself as a queen, or the First Lady!
M: As a matter of fact that son of yours made certain promises about becoming famous—
WIFE: His intentions were always good. As a little boy he was given to dreams of adult grandeur. But he was haunted by bad luck—
M: Even as a child his luck was bad?
WIFE: Nothing to worry about. He will have a brilliant future yet. I’m remembering things his teachers said about his academic abilities, his sensitivity, his potential for greatness!
M: We can’t go on like this. If he had succeeded in killing himself, what would I be now but a widow without insurance—without anything.
WIFE: That’s the way it is with men like him. They’re artistic. They want to tear the world apart and rebuild it brick by brick. You’re a lucky girl to have such an ambitious husband! He was born with an Irish sweepstake ticket in his mouth! That’s your insurance. Believe me—someday he will make you rich and famous; maybe in a way you’ll wish he hadn’t. In any case you’re getting a better deal than I ever got.
M: I don’t want much. Just a cute house in the country and clean sheets on the bed and a washing machine—and potatoes that aren’t rotten.
WIFE: I had the same simple dreams and look what I got. I’ve had 10 or 12 husbands and not a good one in the bunch. Like a bad piece of meat drawing flies; that’s what we women are. The flies buzz around us for their meal and then stick their noses up and call us carrion! Even when I was young and pretty like you they’d just nibble the flesh here and there and never really consume all of me. They would just gorge themselves on the choicest bits and leave the rest for the buzzards.
M: Look! He’s moving.
M and WIFE go to O’s side.
WIFE: Take it easy; those wounds are still open.
O: What happened?
M: You tried to kill yourself!
WIFE: The crowd was baiting you like a bear but you showed them who was the bear and who was the man.
O: They stole our money. We had to sleep in the gutter. We made love while a crowd was watching us!
M: Do you think I could be pregnant?
WIFE: Who cares? We’re together now. We’ll survive and maybe even triumph, like the 3 musketeers!
O: I’m hungry—
M: There’s nothing left. We emptied the pot.
WIFE: No, I’ve saved something special for my prodigal son! [Gets skull from cupboard.]
M: What kind of meal can he make of that?
WIFE: It’s made of sugar! Ha! Ha! Just what you need to give you the energy to go out and punch the goddamm world right in the nose!
O eats candy skull greedily. BLACKOUT.
Scene 8
PLACARD: ‘THE TORN DRESS EPISODE.' Wife’s apartment. M naps on bed in slip. O reads. ENTER WIFE with packages.
WIFE: Give me a hand.
O: What’s all this?
WIFE: Your wedding reception. Better a week late than never. Which reminds me, why didn’t you send me an invite to the ceremony?
O: We didn’t want to bother you. Besides, there wasn’t any ceremony.
WIFE: Bother me? You’re my son. I’m your mother for Christ’s sake! I’ve had 15 or 18 sons married and not been to one wedding ceremony yet!
O: You shouldn’t have done it. We don’t need gifts.
WIFE: Don’t be a blockhead! When you’re thirsty and somebody offers you a tit, suck on it!
O: Don’t talk like that!
WIFE: I thought you had become a man of the world! Having you two around here has had its effect on me. I’m getting a little horny watching you make love—
O: Watching us—!
WIFE: I couldn’t help hearing the song those bed springs were singing—and I was curious to see what kind of lover you were. It’s a mother’s right to know such things about her son. I only wish the mothers of my husbands had been interested in the kind of lovers they were turning out! Actually, your technique isn’t all that bad. No Rudolph Valentino, but at least you’re not a tyrannical sadist like most men. Anyway, after supper I’ll let you in on a few trade secrets about giving your wife a thrill.
O: I’ve got some reading to do at the public library after supper.
WIFE: Some things can’t be found in books!
O: Is that all you women think about—sex?
WIFE: We’re all only human. Just one small step removed from the apes. Whether it’s a step up or down I don’t know; but it’s hard enough being whatever it is I am without trying to be something God didn’t intend me to be. Here, wake up your bride and give her this—[Shows O a pretty summer dress.]
O: Where’d you get this stuff?
WIFE: I prayed and my prayers were answered. [Opening package.] This is real caviar and French champagne! Yesterday it was rotten spuds crawling with worms. Today the worm has turned!
O: But the leopard hasn’t changed her spots.
WIFE: Meaning what?
O: I smell a rat. I think you stole this stuff.
WIFE: You’re accusing your own mother of stealing?
O: Yes!
WIFE: I’ll swear on a Bible!
O: Then tell me where you got it.
WIFE: In a store, with money. With legal tender.
O: And where did you get the money?
WIFE: From a wallet.
O: Whose wallet?
WIFE: I don’t know—I threw it away as soon as I got the money out of it.
O: You picked somebody’s pocket?
WIFE: For all I know it could have been the character who took yours; or his brother, or his cousin. That’s why I didn’t try to find out who he was. Let him be an unknown soldier. In God’s eyes he was the one who picked your pocket. I stole from a thief!
M: What’s going on?
WIFE: The manna has fallen from heaven.
M: Is that dress for me?
O: No, it has to be taken back to the store.
WIFE: They won’t take it back. It was on sale.
O: Then I’ll burn it!
M: It’s so pretty! Let me try it on!
O: Don’t you understand? This dress was bought with stolen money!
M: Our money was stolen! It’s tit for tat! [She and O struggle over dress and it is torn.] See what you’ve done! Everything you touch is ruined! [Puts dress on.]
O: I’m getting out of here.
WIFE: The library is closed.
O: I’ll find a job. I’ll make honest money. I’ll buy you a dress that won’t be torn!
EXIT O. WIFE and M laugh as M whirls about in new dress. BLACKOUT.
Scene 9
PLACARD: ‘O APPLIES FOR WORK AT K’s DISTILLERY.' O seated nude, filling out a form. ENTER DOCTOR F wearing medical coat.
DOCTOR F: Finished? Good. [Takes form from O.] Stand up. I want to look you over. Are you embarrassed to have me looking at you in the nude?
O: No.
DOCTOR F slaps O viciously on cheek.
DOCTOR F: [Hysterically.] Don’t lie to me! You can’t fool us, so don’t even try! [Reasonably.] Just be totally honest. Let your brain be as naked as your body. You’ve got nothing to be frightened of if you’re on the up and up. K Distilleries is a big outfit. We have the right to know who we’re taking unto our corporate bosom. If we hire you, you’re a member of the K family. You’re shivering. Are you nervous or cold?
O: Both.
DOCTOR F: Nervous about what? Does it embarrass you to be examined au naturel?
O: —yes.
DOCTOR F: That’s what I like to hear! We’re going to get along fine! Tell me; what do you think about your sex organs—are they normal in your opinion? [Pause.] Answer!
O: I don’t know—
DOCTOR F: [Slaps O.] Answer! Are they normal?
O: —no.
DOCTOR F: Of course they’re not normal! But is that any reason to be defensive? I’m a doctor. I see all kinds of freakish genitalia. They bore me. You bore me. Even your abnormalities are commonplace, O! Alright, sit down. [Makes notes.] I must tell you I think you have homosexual tendencies.
O: Doesn’t everyone?
DOCTOR F: Oh, that’s very cute! When your legs are crossed you’re a real tiger, aren’t you? What did you do in the Marine corps?
O: Marksman.
DOCTOR F: Kill anybody?
O: No.
DOCTOR F: Honorable discharge?
O: Yes.
DOCTOR F: There you go again! We know all about your service record, O! We’ve had you checked out from A to Z.
O: They altered my discharge because of certain—political beliefs—
DOCTOR F: As a matter of fact, you’re a revolutionary communist, aren’t you?
O: I believe in social justice!
DOCTOR F: Oh, fuck! You’re a bloody bolshevik, admit it. We don’t give a damn about your politics. After a month with the company, you’ll be a bona fide blue ribbon plutocrat. We’ll swamp you with fringe benefits. We’ll have you throwing your revolutionary comrades into our corporate gas chamber. I think you’ve got a brilliant future with K Distilleries, O. Communism, homosexuality and the free enterprise system are part and parcel of the American dream. I’m recommending you for the job, O! Just one more thing. Stand up. Now that you’re on the team, I want to take a closer look at those genitals of yours—
BLACKOUT.
Scene 10
PLACARD: ‘O LEARNS WHAT IT MEANS TO LIVE BY THE SWEAT OF HIS BROW.' O building wooden crates. FOREMAN ENTERS.
FOREMAN: You’re falling behind the quota, O!
O: I’m working like a nigger!
FOREMAN: You’re supposed to build 100 crates a shift. Yesterday you made 20 and 8 of those were no good.
O: I was hired for bigger and better things. Executive training. I’m a college grad. Does Doctor F know I’m working in this sweatshop? When he finds out you’ll have your ass in a sling.
FOREMAN: 100 crates a day; that’s all I know. I do my job, you do yours; everything is jake. 100 crates a day filled with whiskey and the company makes money and we get paid. That’s how it works around here.
O: Don’t give me a lecture on economics. Let me tell you something: this is slavery, and you will rot in hell a year for every drop of sweat you squeeze from us!
FOREMAN: That’s just the trouble, O—you’re not sweating. In your case I’ll only have to spend a minute or two in hell!
O: [Laughs.] You can’t be all bad. You’ve got a sense of humor. Maybe when I get myself elected President I’ll take you into my Cabinet as Secretary of Labor. I’m making a list of my friends and my enemies. If you treat me right you’ll be suitably rewarded.
FOREMAN: And if I’m a bastard? What will my punishment be?
O: I’ll—I’ll put you to work making crates!
FOREMAN: When you become the President, eh?
O: I’ve laid out my life like a book. Each chapter leads me one step closer to my ultimate goal—
FOREMAN: Which is what?
O: To make this screwed up planet a decent place for people to live on!
FOREMAN: Shit! You can’t even make a decent box! [Picks up box O has been working on and smashes it. BLACKOUT.]
Scene 11
PLACARD: ‘FIRST SWEAT, THEN TEARS.' O in line with other WORKERS waiting to be paid by CASHIER who is guarded by KEYSTONE KOP. K stands in shadows watching.
CASHIER: Name?
O: O.
CASHIER: Here’s your envelope.
O: Wait a minute! There’s no money in it!
CASHIER: There should be an explanatory note then. [Takes note from O’s envelope.] Your wages have been attached by the Ace Honeymoon Tour Service. It’s 100% legal. There’s nothing you can do.
O: Nothing except to starve! That guide is a crook! He made a deal with my wife to forget his fee in exchange for a kiss!
CASHIER: You let him kiss your wife?
O: What else could I do?
CASHIER: [To KOP.] What do you call a husband who lets his wife bail him out with her sexual favors?
KOP: A pimp!
O threatens KOP.
CASHIER: Take it easy, O! He’s got a gun! I was only joking. We know you wouldn’t turn your wife into a whore without a good reason.
KOP: I heard it was all her idea!
O: I want to see the head accountant!
CASHIER: That won’t do you any good. You’ve been laid off. We’re closing the crate factory and switching to cardboard.
O: If that’s the case I’m entitled to severance pay. I know my rights.
KOP: Suppose we sever your balls!
CASHIER: Your severance pay has been sent to the Grand Hotel on account of that bill you ran up on your honeymoon.
O: Those bastards still have my luggage! You’re all screwing me. It’s a conspiracy! You’ll all pay for this in blood!
KOP pistol whips O and drags him off. ENTER DOCTOR F, laughs with K. BLACKOUT.
Scene 12
O’s apartment. M wearing apron. Table set for candlelight supper but bare of food. ENTER O with blood and dirt on face.
M: My God, what happened?
O: Nothing. An accident.
M: What about the groceries?
O: I had an accident!
M: You spent your pay on booze!
O: I never got paid. They wouldn’t give it to me.
M: How can that be? You worked—
O: The hotel, the tour guide—they went to court against us. [M cries, collapses.] We’ll get what they owe me tomorrow. I’ll see Doctor F. I have some influence with him. They won’t get away with this.
M: What good is tomorrow? The landlord’s coming for the rent tonight. We’ll have to move again. I can’t stand this! Why? Why is this happening to us?
O: There’s a reason. When you forge steel you’ve got to get the iron white hot. Then you hammer it. It’s hard on your morale, but when you’re done you have something that’s durable, indestructible, immortal—like those martyrs in the Palace of the Dead. Someday I’ll have a steel fist and smash these criminals like the insects they are!
M: Someday—but tonight we’ll be sleeping in the gutter again! [Knock at door.] Speak of the devil, it’s him—the landlord!
O: [At door.] Who is it?
COMRADE P [Off.]: A friend. Open up!
O opens door. ENTER COMRADE P. He has been drinking.
COMRADE P: Comrade O?
O: Yes. Who are you?
COMRADE P: [Embracing O.] Comrade P!
M: We thought you were the landlord.
COMRADE P: Landlord! You are looking at a man who sent 17,000 Russian rent collectors to hell!
M: And tonight all those ghosts will have their revenge on us.
COMRADE P: My dear woman, your worries are over. I’m bringing you sensational news—
M: We’ve had enough news today.
COMRADE P: I’m serious. The labor relations committee of the Party has sent me. They’ve been watching your husband here ever since he made a monkey of that foreman in the box works. He’s a natural born troublemaker, this husband of yours! That’s what I told the committee. "Comrades," I said, "if you’re looking for someone to symbolize America’s downtrodden proletariat, then this fellow O is your man. He’s been dropped into our laps like manna from heaven."
O: I don’t understand—
M: Neither do I.
COMRADE P: [Gathering O and M into a conspiratorial huddle.] Shhh. These walls might have ears. For the moment this is all strictly hush hush. But tomorrow the whole world will know the plot we’re hatching. Yes, my little Russian wildflower, tomorrow your husband will be recognized as the legendary character he was always destined to become. He is going to be nothing less than the leader of a second American revolution!
M: And will that somehow pay our rent and buy our groceries?
COMRADE P: Listen; in the morning we’re going out on strike against K. We’re going to break his capitalist balls. Every bone in his body will be smashed with our steel fist. And we’re putting your husband in charge of the whole operation. They made a fatal mistake treating him like dirt. And now they are going to pay for it.
M: [Freeing herself from COMRADE P’s embrace.] Let K pay with money, not with broken bones.
COMRADE P: My dear little woman, how can you talk about rent and groceries when you and your husband are on the threshold of getting your names in the history books?
M: Even heroes must eat breakfast.
COMRADE P: When K’s distillery is unionized we will make O a shop steward with a takehome pay of $200 a week.
M: And when does that happen?
COMRADE P: As soon as the strike is settled. And that will be soon, my little sparrow. Every day we’re on strike K loses $50,000 worth of business to his competitor, Z.
O: What do you want me to do?
COMRADE P: The Party chiefs are meeting at 9 o’clock. They want you there for a post-powwow press conference and photo opportunity. Here—[Offers O flask.] this’ll steady your nerves.
O: No. I don’t need that. I’m ready for the spotlight of publicity. I’ve been waiting all my life for this chance! [Puts coat on.]
M: You’re leaving me alone to face our landlord?
COMRADE P: I’ll stay with you and take care of that sponger. [To O.] Go ahead and don’t worry. You’ll have a nice flat to come home to. I’ll protect your interests here while you fight for the interests of the whole human race! [Solemnly.] Comrade, I hope you know how honored I feel to have played my small part in this epic drama whose curtains are about to open on your starring role.
O: [Solemnly.] I understand, comrade. [EXIT.]
COMRADE P: Come, let’s celebrate. Vodka will be our supper. It’s a shame to waste these candles. What were you hoping to accomplish with this romantic setting, the seduction of your own husband?
M: No. I just wanted to make a nice meal for him after a hard day’s work, that’s all.
COMRADE P: A pretty piece like you shouldn’t have to entice a man with candlelight. Maybe O takes his politics too seriously. All these books! Can it be he’s up all night reading economic theory while you’re lying in bed waiting for someone to revolutionize your sex life?
M: Why didn’t you talk like this when O was here?
COMRADE P: The subject didn’t come up.
M: You’re a coward!
COMRADE P: Of course I’m a coward! During the day that is. But at night, in bed, my heroism is legendary. Haven’t you heard about my exploits from the other neglected housewives in the neighborhood?
M: Leave me alone. Don’t touch me! Get out!
COMRADE P: What about the landlord? He’ll evict you if there’s no one here to protect you! Remember that episode with the tour guide? I promised your husband I would take care of you. [Embraces M, kisses her.] Don’t pretend. You know what’s going to happen and you’re looking forward to it. Why else are your nipples getting stiff? You’re a bitch and a whore. Don’t pretend you’re not. Be what you are! I’ll send you on a trip to the moon. You’ll see stars! I’ll put my brand on that luscious backside of yours so you will never forget this night. I’ll have you begging me on your hands and knees for more!
COMRADE P pins M on table or bed. Her dress is up, his fingers caress her thigh. BLACKOUT.
Scene 13
PLACARD: ‘WHILE HIS WIFE IS TAKEN FROM THE FRONT O IS TAKEN FROM THE REAR.' MARX, LENIN and K meeting in office of K’s distillery.
MARX: We can wipe the floor with you, K. You’re big but we’re bigger. You’re the past and we’re the future.
K: A strike against me will bring Z’s labor force out in sympathy.
LENIN: Why would they cut their own throats by sabotaging the competitive advantage Z gains when we shut you down?
K: Because they hate Z more than they hate me. And because I’ve also made a secret deal to pay their wages for the duration of any strike at my plant. For them your siege warfare against K’s distillery is a paid vacation.
MARX: That could cost you millions.
K: When Z folds I’ll make billions—some of which I am willing to share with you in the form of this check for 200,000.
MARX: We couldn’t consider anything less than 500,000.
LENIN: Jesus—we came here to bury this bastard and now he wants us to help him monopolize the distilling business!
MARX: If he helps us by filling our treasury, it will be worth it. We need capital!
LENIN: But what happens when he’s got his monopoly? He’ll try to welch on the deal. He’ll screw us like he screwed that sucker O. When we open our pay packet a snake will jump out and bite us.
MARX: We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We have the force of history on our side. That check represents a down payment on the shovel we will use to dig his grave one of these days.
LENIN: Then why would he write it? He’s not that stupid—
K: My friends, I don’t know who will bury who in the future. I don’t even care. Maybe the future does belong to you; if so you’re welcome to it—as long as I am calling all the shots today!
MARX: Then it’s a deal; let’s drink on it.
LENIN: The end justifies the means!
A knock at the door.
MARX: That must be the press. We can break the news to them. [ENTER O.] Are you from the media?
O: No. My name is O. I was sent here by Comrade P.
MARX: Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.
O: It’s about the strike at K’s distillery.
MARX: There isn’t going to be any strike at K’s. The strike is at Z’s.
O: Does that mean I’ll be reinstated at K’s with back pay?
MARX: This isn’t a local grievance committee. We are the leaders of an International Labor Movement!
LENIN: This is a summit meeting. We can’t be bothered with your petty gripes, comrade.
O: But I started this ball rolling. I laid the foundation. I put my head on the block and it was chopped off! I’ve got a wife to support! Our rent is due! I was promised a key job in the union!
MARX: We don’t have room in the movement for hotheads. Somebody like you could upset our entire ideological applecart.
LENIN: We are your leaders. You can trust us to see that your needs will be met in the long run.
O: My rent has to be paid tonight!
MARX: On Monday you can tell your troubles to the shop steward.
O: I was supposed to be the shop steward!
K: This man has been fired and I don’t want him back! That’s part of our deal.
MARX: He’s trying to dictate party policy to us already!
K: This creep is a bone in my throat!
LENIN: So you try shoving him down our craw? What have you got against him?
K: He lied on his job application.
MARX: You’re complaining about his lies? The more you say against him the more I like him. He seems like just an average chap trying to support his family—
K: He’s an ingrate. I gave him a job, treated him like a member of my own family and he tried to knife me in the back! He’s a bad penny, a rotten apple—an albatross you’re welcome to wear around your necks, but count me out of any deal that includes him.
O: Lies! Lies! Lies! [Lunges at K, but is restrained by MARX and LENIN.]
MARX: Enough! We can’t settle anything like this. Wait outside. We’ll discuss the matter and let you know what we decide.
O: Alright, but remember this; I’ve given my life to the movement. I’m ready to make any sacrifice that’s required. So don’t throw me to the wolves! My fate is in your hands. But your credibility is in mine. The workers of the world are waiting to see what you do about removing the chains this plutocratic bastard has forged for me! [EXIT.]
MARX: Come on, we can sneak out the back way!
ALL EXIT. BLACKOUT.
Scene 14
PLACARD: ‘THE PRODIGAL RETURNS.' O and M descend gangplank to meet small CROWD carrying signs—"O FOR PRESIDENT"—"O WILL LEAD THE HOMELESS TO THE PROMISED LAND"—"AFRO/AMERICANS FOR O"—"WE DEMAND SOCIAL JUSTICE"—"WE DEMAND CHEAP WHISKEY!." KEYSTONE KOPS and REPORTERS are present.
NEGRO: The negroes welcome you back, Mr and Mrs O! We have been waiting for this glorious moment since our false emancipation 100 years ago. We are anxious to leave Egypt and pass over into Sinai. You have seen the Promised Land and can lead us to it. When will you give us our marching orders?
O: In my wanderings I have wept for you, negroes! I have heard your anguished cries across the wide ocean. Yes, I will lead you out of Egypt and into paradise on earth. You will be one of my cherished tribes. You will be free and proud once again, negroes. Go and tell your people to lift their heads, for I have come to deliver them from bondage!
EXIT NEGRO singing ‘Go Down Moses.'
RADICAL INTELLECTUAL: We are the ghosts of intellectuals from the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s; languishing in the dungeons of an establishmentarian mentality that made our radical ideas for a socially just society the laughing stock of Presidential cocktail parties. We kept the faith, knowing you would be born; that you would be exiled—and would one day return to liberate us from our enslavement so that together we might alter the American status quo.
O: Courage, radical intellectuals! Don’t give up the ship of state! Your iconoclastic ideologies will emerge from the darkness of ridicule into the sunshine of a new Golden Age! Henceforth you will occupy the highest governmental offices and your wisdom will be the law of this second Athens!
EXIT RADICAL INTELLECTUAL singing Communist ‘Internationale’
POOR PERSON: What about the poor people? Who’ll pay our rent and buy our groceries?
O: We will take from the rich and give to the poor. As simple as that! I will put an end to poverty with a single stroke of my Presidential pen!
EXIT POOR PERSON singing ‘Happy Times Are Here Again.'
ALCOHOLIC: Cheap whiskey! Give us cheap booze to ease the pain of our miserable existence!
O: Alcohol will be outlawed! You won’t need it anymore. No one will run away from life on the yonder side of my New American Frontier! You will run to embrace it with open arms! We will shut down the distilleries and convert them into Palaces for the Performing Arts!
EXIT ALCOHOLIC singing ‘How Dry I Am.'
INVALID: We are sick and they won’t let us into the hospitals!
O: From now on they will or we’ll put the doctors against a wall and re-administer the Hypocratic oath to them from the muzzle of a machinegun! A new day is dawning. A new chapter in the history books is being written. Politics as usual is dead. The will of the common people will rule the land from now on!
EXIT INVALID singing ‘Jerusalem’
A WOMAN: What about us women?
O: I will take away your right to vote and your right to work. You will stay home with your babies from dawn to dusk where you belong!
A WOMAN: That’s just what I was hoping to hear you say!
EXIT WOMAN singing ‘Tea For Two.'
OLD PERSON: Don’t forget us old people!
O: Everyone who wants to work will have a job. And when you cease to be useful we will put you to sleep like they do with dogs at the pound.
OLD PERSON: Yes! That’s it! When our time is up treat us like dogs! We deserve at least that much respect!
EXIT OLD PERSON howling and barking like dog.
RHINOCEROS: Some of us mammals are threatened with extinction!
O: I will put a tax on technology. I will tax it out of the extinction business. Ecologically our policy will be two steps back for every economic step forward. We will rediscover the ancient wisdom of Mother Nature! Nothing will stand in the way of our return to an Edenesque existence!
EXIT RHINOCEROS singing ‘America The Beautiful." REPORTERS follow Rhinoceros off. Only KEYSTONE KOPS remain.
KOPS: We will stand in your way!
O: My strength comes from the American masses. How can you stop a force like that?
KOPS: With bullets! With tear gas grenades and dogs. With cattle prods! With clubs! Broken bottles, brass knuckles! With our bare hands if we have to!
O: Why do you oppose me when I represent your only chance for salvation?
KOPS: We don’t have to answer your questions. But if you must know, we’re afraid somebody might take you seriously one of these days!
KOPS fire guns at O’s feet, making him dance. BLACKOUT.
Scene 15
PLACARD: ‘THE MAMMALS CONVENE IN ATLANTIC CITY.' A convention hall decorated with bunting. RHINOCEROS addresses DELEGATES.
RHINOCEROS: Fellow mammals! We have come to the end of our 650,000th annual convention. And now to present the winner of our Mammal of the Year Award we have last year’s recipient, Mrs George Antrobus.
Cheers from DELEGATES.
MRS ANTROBUS: It gives me great pleasure to pass on this honor which you so graciously voted me last year although I did not really deserve it—[Shouts of ‘No! No!’ from DELEGATES.] The past year has wrought many changes. The wall of ice has receded. The war is finally over and we are left to ponder what new calamities lie ahead. What great trials will we mammals have to face this next year? There is talk of the sun exploding, invasions from outer space, air pollution and that perennial bugaboo, the baby bottle! There are rumors about mass extinction that make the great herds of endangered species justifiably restless. There have been stampedes—in this direction and that. And, unfortunately, many of us have decided our only salvation is in larger and larger herds, and eventually in one global herd which by virtue of its size alone will be incapable of stampede. Indeed, it will be incapable of doing much of anything at all. The Life Force itself will probably die of rot in such a herd. It’s not a very bright picture. We are coming face to face with our greatest enemy—not the insects or the reptiles; not the ice or the fire; not disease, starvation or war. We have conquered all of them. We have still to master our worst enemy, however: technology! That’s the fancysounding name we have given to a disease of the human brain. I ought to know something about that disease because my husband was one of its first victims. George’s case began innocently enough with his invention of the wheel, the alphabet and mathematics; then it rapidly got out of control when he developed things like gunpowder, napalm and, of course, the hydrogen bomb. And when all that failed to destroy us physically, the disease went into its terminal phase: our psychic destruction as symbolized by the computer and its offspring, the punched card. These science fiction creatures have now made it possible to organize the biosphere into a single SuperHerd known as humanity that is crowding all mammalian life forms right off the face of the earth—
1ST MAMMAL: What can we do about it?
2ND MAMMAL: We’re doomed!
3RD MAMMAL: Tell us the answer!
4TH MAMMAL: The only answer is to stampede, stampede!
1ST MAMMAL: Crush the computers!
2ND MAMMAL: Trample the technocrats!
3RD MAMMAL: Which way do we go? Who will lead us?
MRS ANTROBUS: Please! Panic is not the answer!
RHINOCEROS: Mrs Antrobus, we must get on with the award. A storm is brewing!
MRS ANTROBUS: Sorry. I got carried away. Well—this year’s award goes to a member of my own species and a sister American! So I feel a particular kinship with her. You can’t help but admire her determination in the face of overwhelming odds. She is like a human Hiroshima, rising and rerising from the ashes of one manmade disaster after another. Where she gets her abiding faith in the future, goodness only knows. She has seen more than a dozen of her husbands disappear chasing other women and the rainbows of their pot of gold fantasies. She’s watched her sons being sucked into the maw of a socio-economic system where they have been deodorized, lobotomized, castrated, shuffled, stacked and dealt by politicians in a crooked poker game where they were themselves the stakes. Some of them are still hanging in their parachutes from the rubber trees of Vietnam like pods of exotic fruit. Their bones are powdered and mixed with the cement of freeways on which the rush hour megaherd gallops toward its daily rendezvous with futility. Yes, my fellow mammals, this poor, ignorant, brood mare of a woman has seen her stallions scattered to the wind like seeds, to root themselves in distant lands and become God knows what—perhaps a messiah who might lead us out from technology; or an assassin to take us further into the darkest regions of our madness. And so I introduce to you, the Mammal Of The Year 1963, Mrs O, from Dallas, Texas!
DELEGATES cheer as WIFE joins MRS ANTROBUS on rostrum. She wears plain print dress, small straw hat with flowers, carries handbag.
WIFE: [Nervously.] I don’t mind telling you it was a long and hot trip getting here all the way from Dallas. Being a widow lady I could only afford to come by bus. When I got the telegram about this award it was like a bolt out of the blue! I’ve never won anything before!
MRS ANTROBUS: That’s one of your most endearing qualities, Mrs O.
WIFE: I just want to take exception to that remark you made about one of my sons being an assassin—
MRS ANTROBUS: It happens to the best of us, my dear. My own Henry turned out to be a bit of a murderer himself. Whether we like to admit it or not, every murderer is some mother’s son—
RHINOCEROS: Please hurry. The sky is nearly black!
Sounds of thunder.
MRS ANTROBUS: Here is your award, suitably engraved with your name. Mrs O—
WIFE: Why—it’s just a small tin cup! I was led to believe there would be merchandise and cash—is this all there is? If so, I’ve been swindled!
RHINOCEROS: [Seizing microphone.] Evacuate the area immediately! The hurricane is upon us! Tidal waves have been sighted! Run for your lives!
WIFE: Stay where you are, I’m not finished! I spent all my cash getting here. I can’t go on! I’m dead broke! Let the tidal waves come! Let the whole lousy world come to an end!
Thunder, lightning. BLACKOUT.
Scene 16
PLACARD: ‘K HAS A CANDID CONVERSATION WITH HIS BIOGRAPHER.' K alone in his study.
K: This weather is depressing. I hate these gloomy days. There is a stench in the air of decaying seaweed and dead fish. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m as nervous as a cat! This pain in my head won’t stop! If only I could sleep—it’s this fucking birthday. When it’s past I’ll feel better. And if the sun doesn’t come out tomorrow, by God I’ll jet myself to Florida or Spain or California or Brazil or wherever the damned thing is shining! I can afford such luxuries! My bones are frozen. At least the boys will be coming up for the party. It will be good to see the family. Jesus! I can’t believe I’m 70 years old! But it’s true—I’m old man—a lonely and frightened old man! Everything is falling apart!
ENTER S. He is a young man in Ivy league clothes, carries briefcase.
S: Good morning.
K: What? Oh, can’t you sleep either?
S: I’m flying back to New York this morning. My plane leaves Boston at 8.
K: I thought you might stick around for the party. Give you a chance to meet the whole family. They’re the real measure of my accomplishments.
S: I have all I need, K; although some of the closet doors were locked—
K: My life’s an open book. I’ve been a public figure for 50 years. How deep do you want to dig for Christ’s sake?
S: I only want the truth.
K: Let me ask you a question: what’s the real reason you’re writing my biography?
S: I was hired to do it.
K: By whom? One of my son’s political enemies?
S: As a matter of fact, I was hired by your son himself.
K: Are you telling me my own son needs to read a book to find out who I am?
S: You’re a mystery, K; I should think you have difficulty knowing yourself who you really are.
K: Life is action. You do it. You don’t think about it. That’s the trouble with you Harvard types —sitting on your kiesters passing judgment on people like me breaking their backs and their balls to subsidize your parasitical reason for being!
S: You can call it that; but in these biographical matters a certain sense of detachment is required—
K: Bullshit! You’re just one of those 10¢ tyrants who thinks for the price of his ticket he can criticize the show as if he owned it!
S: Is this part of your "Life is a circus" theory?
K: You can quote me. The world is a circus. [Indicating audience.] Everyone out there is hoping the guy on the trapeze will break his neck, and when he doesn’t they all feel cheated out of the dime they bet he’d lose his gamble with death. They criticize a daredevil like me because I drive around town in a fancy car with a beautiful broad and drink champagne for breakfast and don’t read the books that say I’m a dumb bastard who’s never done anything noble for mankind. That is the kind of book you’re writing about me, isn’t it?
S: There’s some of that in it—
K: To you I’m some kind of clown, eh?
S: When I started the book I think I can say I was completely open minded—
K: Like a mouse is about a cat?
S: What do you think the should book say?
K: How the world looks when you’re not wearing rosecolored glasses. What it’s like in the trenches—where men get their faces shot off before they die, and a hero’s death doesn’t consist of a slow motion climb up some alabaster staircase into a cloudfilled freezeframe; it’s a 45 caliber slug slamming into your head so your brains explode like shit hitting a fan. I’ll tell you what life is all about, sonny. It’s so frigging simple I don’t know why everyone has such a tough time figuring it out. Life is a race. In every race there is just one winner and lots of losers. You either go all out to win the race or you lose it. In life you are either a success or a failure.
S: Do you run that race fairly or unfairly?
K: Exploiting your opponent’s weaknesses isn’t unfair. That’s the kind of race it is. The stakes are big.
S: When you broke Z, for instance; what was his weakness?
K: Z was naive.
S: Because he didn’t think you’d stab him in the back?
K: That’s business. It’s cutthroat. You’ve got to protect yourself at all times. Only the fit survive.
S: Then you must be the fittest of the fit, K.
K: I’m no twobit club fighter, pal. I started at the bottom and got to the top by breaking heads. I’m a maineventer and I don’t shed crocodile tears for punchies and hopheads when they hold out their tin cups; I spit in them. In my religion we praise success, not failure.
S: And no price is too great for success?
K: I can’t think of one!
S: Suppose the price is your soul?
K: Are you going to tell me you’re some kind of Mephistopheles?
S: Would that surprise you?
K: Hell, yes, it would surprise me! I didn’t think the devil would be so sanctimonious!
S: Oh, but he is. He’s a very sanctimonious fellow indeed—constantly disillusioned by the folly of trapeze artists and prizefighters. The devil is an idealist, K. But you thought of him as a pimp and life as a whore. Your victories weren’t won K, they were bought; and at a terrible price. What should have been a great love affair became a lifelong whorehouse escapade of cheap thrills and momentary gratifications. And now the bill for all that debauchery must be paid—
K: [Holding temples.] Leave me alone. This conversation isn’t amusing anymore—Wait! Get a doctor; something’s wrong!
S: You’ve smiled your last smile, K, and boasted your last boast. Don’t worry. You are not dying yet. Oh, no. You will live a while yet. Just long enough to see everything you built crumble until there is nothing left but ghosts and madness. And then you will beg for death. But death will only come when you finally confess all of your sins!
EXIT S. BLACKOUT.
Scene 17
A TV studio. In background are blowups of ads: ‘ DRINK K’s WHISKEY’, ‘A BOTTLE OF K’s BOOZE A DAY KEEPS THE BLOOZE AWAY.' DIRECTOR, wearing earphone headset, comes downstage to address audience.
DIRECTOR: We’re 10 seconds to air time, folks. When the star of the show comes out we would like a generous round of applause. Just watch the prompter here—it will tell you what to do—[Cues ANNOUNCER.]
ANNOUNCER: Hello America! Welcome to your Number One TV Gameshow—"Humiliation!" And here’s our master of ceremonies to prove that: "People Can Be Humiliated," that Great Humiliator himself, SS-Obersturmbannfuehrer Adolf Eichmann!
Recorded applause. ENTER EICHMANN with whip, wearing black SS uniform.
EICHMANN: [Cracking whip.] Alright, let’s get on with the show! Bring on the first victim—I mean the first contestant! [AUDIENCE laughter.]
ANNOUNCER: Here she is Adolf, from Dallas, Texas—Mrs O.
EICHMANN: That’s a funny name. An O is just an empty space; a hole—a zero! [AUDIENCE laughter.] You’re not Jewish, are you? [AUDIENCE laughter.] Are you nervous, my dear? [Hugs her.]
M: No; well—a little, yes—it’s the prizes. I need them so desperately. I can’t go on living like this!
EICHMANN: Oh, I like that! It’s so much better when the contestants are desperate! It makes the game that much more thrilling! Now, we have a list of things you must accomplish. For each one you will be given certain prizes. But if you fail, all the prizes you have won up to that point will be taken away. Do you understand the rules?
M: Yes.
EICHMANN: Who is Mrs O’s partner?
ANNOUNCER: Her husband, Adolf. He’s being kept in a soundproof room. We’ve told him this is a rally of the American Social Justice Party convened to redress his grievances against our sponsor, the supercapitalist, K.
EICHMANN: Does he swallow that?
ANNOUNCER: Fell for it hook, line and sinker!
EICHMANN: Well, let’s have a look at this husband of yours, Mrs O. I won’t believe him until I see him!
AUDIENCE laughter, which, pursuant to cue card, changes suddenly to cheering when O ENTERS.
ANNOUNCER: Here he is, comrade delegates! A genuine hero of the American Social Justice Movement!
O: I have a speech I wrote out—
EICHMANN: No time for that, I’m afraid. Besides it isn’t words that define the hero, it’s deeds. You’ve made a lot of promises to your wife and now it is time you did something about them!
O: The only thing I’m interested in winning is Social Justice—not washing machines!
Boos from AUDIENCE.
EICHMANN: You can’t eat social justice! It won’t keep the rain off your head or the bugs out of your bed! [AUDIENCE laughter.]
ANNOUNCER: Our first group of prizes includes lingerie from Copenhagen, Italian shoes, Siberian furs and a complete wardrobe of Parisian fashions!
Prizes are revealed. Squeals of admiration from female members of AUDIENCE.
EICHMANN: Now this is justice! The kind you can pinch to tell if it’s real. [Pinches M’s arm.] Ask your wife what your revolution is for if women like her can’t adorn themselves in pretty frocks and sexy underwear! [Cheers from female AUDIENCE members.] That’s what all this history and economics boils down to, you fool! If your woman is happy she will make you happy and the world becomes a paradise on earth! Haven’t you ever noticed how the kingpins of your revolution are married to the frumpiest kind of females? They don’t even shave their armpits! [AUDIENCE laughter.] Maybe if Marx and Engels had had a little sexpot at home like you have they might not have become such troublemakers! [AUDIENCE applause.]
M: He spends so much time reading revolutionary theory he never makes love to me anymore! [AUDIENCE boos.]
EICHMANN: [To O.] Is that true? You’re letting this juicy little grape wither on the vine? Think of the wine that could be made from her!
Masculine wolf calls, whistles, hoots, etc. from AUDIENCE.
O: Our love life is a private matter.
EICHMANN: Nothing is too private for 50 million Americans! They want to know what is going on in your bedroom and they have a constitutional right to know!
O: We’ll see about that. Come on, we’re getting out of this madhouse—
EICHMANN: If you quit you forfeit all the prizes.
M: And if you forfeit the prizes, you forfeit me!
O tries to drag M off. Great roar of AUDIENCE indignation.
EICHMANN: We’re looking for a little humility from you, O, and unless we find it in the next 10 seconds you will be disqualified. Your wife doesn’t have to leave with you. We have the authority to grant her asylum. We can designate her as a prize and award her to someone who will really appreciate what she has to offer a real man!
O: [Pause.] Alright, you win. What is it you want me to do?
EICHMANN: Just play the game. Humiliate yourself! You’ll find it’s good for the soul. It’ll give you a new outlook on life! Now: just tell us when you last made love to your wife and she will win these nice prizes!
O: I—I can’t remember.
M: Tell them, for God’s sake! We’re running out of time.
O: Two—two months ago—[AUDIENCE applause.]
EICHMANN: I might add we have previously learned from Mrs O that it was in his sleep and while he was dreaming about some slut he had met in Havana! [AUDIENCE laughter.]
ANNOUNCER: Well, Mrs O, you have won your prizes; do you want to go on for more?
M has taken fur stole from prize display and put it on over her housedress.
M: Yes! Yes! I want more! More!
EICHMANN: [To O.] Even you should find this treasure trove of materialistic goodies for your baby hard to resist—[A luxurious assortment of nursery furniture, toys, clothing is revealed. AUDIENCE is impressed.] You do love your baby, don’t you?
O: Of course I do!
EICHMANN: And all you have to do to win this bonanza is get down on your hands and knees and kiss your wife’s shoe!
AUDIENCE is disappointed. O gets on hands and knees; kisses M’s shoe.
EICHMANN: You might as well stay down there for your next humiliation. The prize this time is a shiny new Cadillac convertible! Are you game?
M: Let’s get it over with!
EICHMANN: All you have to do, Mrs O, is mount your husband and ride him like the horse’s ass he is. Here’s my whip just in case he needs some encouragement!
M mounts O, rides him and uses whip on his hindquarters as AUDIENCE urges her on.
EICHMANN: The next prize is every woman’s dream come true: a lifetime certificate for free laundry, dusting and dishwashing service! And all you have to do to free your wife from the curse of household drudgery is sit up like a dog and beg for this piece of raw liver.
O: That’s it! I’ve had enough! I can’t go on!
M: You must! [To EICHMANN and AUDIENCE.] He forces me do all the diapers by hand on a scrub board. My hands look like the claws of a boiled lobster!
EICHMANN kisses her hands as AUDIENCE boos O.
EICHMANN: Look! He’s begging! He’s sitting on his haunches like a mutt begging for this slimy hunk of raw liver. Give it to him! Drop it down that frothy canine oral cavity! [M drops liver into O’s mouth, he gags.] Go ahead, doggy, swallow it! [AUDIENCE is frenzied.] Now you’ve made a mess on our nice clean stage, doggy! Lick it up! [Pushes O’s face into regurgitated liver.]
ANNOUNCER: We’re running out of time, Adolf.
EICHMANN: Such a shame when we’re having so much fun! Well, we’ll lump the remaining prizes together in a grand finale. In short, Mrs O, we will give you anything you desire, up to a total of 17 million dollars, if you win this last event. And, because of the way you have helped build our ratings, the network is throwing in a bonus prize—a lovemaking machine named "Orgasmo!"
Feminine squeals of joy as ORGASMO ENTERS wearing only posing strap on his oiled bodybuilder’s torso.
Orgasmo will remain with you for life! He is guaranteed never to age or flag in his devotion to you. His only reason for being is to gratify your every whim and desire! He’ll laugh at your jokes—[ORGASMO laughs.] Not now stupid! He composes poetry and can even change diapers; and he’s all yours, Mrs O, if you can, in the next 30 seconds, persuade your husband—to commit suicide!
Great commotion of organ music, audience noise, sound of countdown clock with sweeping second hand. M is given pistol which she tries to convince O to accept. She gestures with him and finally he takes pistol and points it at his temple but time runs out.
EICHMANN: I’m sorry Mrs O, but according to the rules of the game you have lost everything!
ANNOUNCER removes M’s fur stole.
EICHMANN: [To O.] So, you failed her again! Why didn’t you do it? Is life so precious to you?
ANNOUNCER: I wouldn’t press him, Adolf. Remember, he’s holding a loaded gun.
EICHMANN: This worm hasn’t got the guts to kill. Not even me, his tormentor—the symbol of everything he hates! I’ll tell you what, O. Shoot me and the grand prize will be yours! Heaven on earth, utopia, social justice, The Great Society—whatever you call it. Kill me and it will all be yours!
O takes aim and fires. Loud report and puff of smoke. From muzzle of pistol a red flag emerges saying ‘Bang.' AUDIENCE is delirious. Organ music up with gameshow theme.
ANNOUNCER: Tune in tomorrow America for another zany edition of television’s favorite game—Humiliation!
BLACKOUT.
Scene 18
PLACARD: ‘THE ANGELIC AVENGER COMES TO DALLAS, TEXAS.' A deserted street in the small hours of a dark Dallas night. A lamp post sheds a cone of yellow light. PROSTITUTE, PREACHER and CHINAMAN ENTER to sing:
THE SONG OF THE SECOND COMING
PROSTITUTE: The world is in a hell of a mess
Yet hope somehow lingers
The dike is full of holes
And we’re running out of fingers
There’s only one place to turn
When things get to such a state
It’s to the Lord above we submit our fate
He’s helped us in the past
When the righteous were sinking fast
By annihilating our enemies with floods, fire and disease
And now we call upon him
With all his righteous might
To send us a sign
That his will be done tonight
The last lines are accompanied by bumps and grinds.
CHINAMAN: The world is in a hell of a mess
That’s plain for all to see
And for nobody is it worse
Than the slanty-eyed Chinee
Whose childlike fate was placed
In the hands of his white brothers
Who prospered by the trust
While keeping our aspirations in the dust
But now the coin has turned
And with God’s help
Our white brothers will get the wages they have earned
We’ll pay them off in bullets and napalm
Slaughter every last one until
Once again the world is calm
PREACHER: Dearest God,
We send you this cry
From our very hearts
Of anguish and of misery
That you might send us some sign
Of your fiery design
Show us a leader that we might join
In the great crusade of the righteous!
We will spread the message far and wide
Of how the earth committed suicide!
It was promised long ago:
That Christ would come a second time
To smite the wicked
And make the meek sublime
Certain signs have appeared of late
Which make us think we’ve not long to wait
In fact we have reason to believe we’re right
In thinking that tonight’s the night
When you will reveal your terrible plan
By sending down your doom in the shape of a Man!
ALL: The devil holds sway on earth now
By many he is consecrated
But with God’s help we’ll see to it
That he’s assassinated!
PROSTITUTE: Look, someone’s coming!
CHINAMAN: It’s not him. He’s white. The Son of God will not be white this time.
PREACHER: What’s he carrying?
PROSTITUTE: Some kind of—weapon!
ENTER O carrying sniper’s rifle.
PREACHER: He must be the one we are waiting for! Hear that music? [Organ music is heard.] Don’t let him get away! Hello there! We’re looking for a man—
O: There is no one but me—
PROSTITUTE: Where are you going? It’s late to be out on the street.
O: I’m waiting—
PREACHER: Waiting for what?
O: For the sun to come up; for the new day to begin.
PREACHER: I am convinced! It’s him! Fall down on your knees! We are in the presence of our Savior!
PREACHER and PROSTITUTE kneel. CHINAMAN remains standing. BLACKOUT.
Scene 19
PLACARD: ‘THE LATTERDAY APOSTLES OF O GATHER AT THE LOWER DEPTHS BAR’ A Texas beer joint. Most patrons sleep or sit in state of alcoholic funk. Juke box plays ‘These Boots Are Made For Walking.'
BARKEEPER: Whatta you think?
JUDAS: I don’t know. They’ve been gone a couple of hours.
BANKRUPT: You don’t believe—you can’t be that dumb!—that God will come to Dallas, Texas and bail us out? Don’t be a horse’s ass, man. God is dead! He died in a concentration camp 20 years ago.
ZEALOT: Your God died; the false God of false miracles—
AMERICAN NAZI: Lousy skeptic! What the hell are you doing here if you don’t believe?
BANKRUPT: I have been reduced to hoping for a miracle that will make the world right. Everything else has failed. My business failed, duty failed, piety, reason. There is nothing left but faith.
AMERICAN NAZI: Even your money has failed you, eh Jew?
BANKRUPT: My money?
G.I.ATROCITY: Leave him alone, you stinking Hun!
BARKEEPER: Hey, the war’s over!
G.I.ATROCITY: If there’s anything I can’t stand it’s a Hun racist! We should have exterminated every last German when we had the chance!
AMERICAN NAZI: And we should have killed every last Jew banker!
BANKRUPT: I’m all for killing bankers. The bastards ruined me. But they weren’t Jewish. They were Irish from Boston!
PROFESSOR: Anything happen yet?
ZEALOT: Everything has happened! The Executioner’s axe has been sharpened for the public beheadings! The pigeons are flying home to roost by the millions! We are building a generation of Americans who worship nothing but their own mediocrity! Cretins! Zombies! Wipe them all out!
G.I.ATROCITY: He’s right! We can’t wait any longer! I’m itching to start shooting again! Mow the sonsofbitches down! and start the whole fucking world over again if that’s the only way I can get my goddamm face back! [Smashes fist on table, knocking drink to floor.]
BARKEEPER: Sam! Get your black ass out here and bring a mop with you!
ENTER BLACK HANDYMAN with mop.
HANDYMAN: Anything happen yet?
BARKEEPER: No, just our great war hero killing off some of the glassware.
HANDYMAN: I’m tired of cleaning up his shit. Here, clean it up yourself, whitey—
G.I.ATROCITY and BLACK HANDYMAN go for each others’ throats and begin a mutual strangulation that gradually loses emotional steam from physical fatigue and alcoholic amnesia.
DIPLOMAT: [Rising; rhetorically.] I got the man elected! I made the speech that electrified the nominating convention. He promised me the Paris consulate! I spent a fortune learning to speak French! And then what? I ask you, then what?
THIEF: For Christ’s sake, can’t a man get some sleep?
DIPLOMAT: How can you sleep in the face of such injustice? I made the man president and he spits in my face! I was thrown out of the White House!
THIEF: A whorehouse more likely.
DIPLOMAT: Here, read the letter he gave me confirming our deal! [THIEF takes letter, blows his nose in it.] You bastard!
THIEF floors DIPLOMAT with groinkick.
THIEF: Goddamm crackpots, every one of you—wanting to destroy the whole world! I don’t hold a grudge against anybody unless there is some profit in it for me. I don’t hunt for sport. I eat everything I kill.
AMERICAN NAZI: You’re no hunter. You haven’t got the guts to look your victims straight in the eye while you’re exterminating them—
THIEF: [Pulls pistol.] Maybe you’re right. I’ve never tried doing it your way, Nazi!
THIEF menaces AMERICAN NAZI with pistol. Doors burst open. ENTER PROSTITUTE.
PROSTITUTE: HALALOOYA! We found him! Our Savior is on his way here!
BANKRUPT: [Rising.] I don’t believe it!
Heavenly organ music comes from juke box as PREACHER ENTERS with O. CHINAMAN is not far behind.
PREACHER: Everyone on your knees! The Lord has come among us!
ALL kneel except CHINAMAN.
CHINAMAN: To hell with that genuflecting shit! I’m through licking the white man’s boots, and the white god’s boots. Show me a deity whose skin is yellow and whose eyes are slanty!
HANDYMAN: [Rising.] He’s right! This Chinese gentleman is right! We people of color are fed up with your ofay deities!
CHINAMAN: Let go of my coat tails, nigger! We Orientals have been civilized for 10,000 years. You black apes have a long way to go yet!
HANDYMAN: I’m an American, you slant-eyed sonofabitch! We Americans don’t have to take no shit from gooks!
As O is led past DIPLOMAT he seizes him by collar.
DIPLOMAT: I want it understood from the start this time about our quid pro quo vis a vis the Paris consulate!
BANKRUPT: Get away you fool! [Pries DIPLOMAT from O.] He’s quite mad, Your Holiness—
PROFESSOR: We’re all quite mad! Tell me, can you wash the blood of Hiroshima from my hands? [Shows O his palms, which are bright red.]
BARKEEPER: The drinks are on the house!
PREACHER: Brothers—let us seat ourselves at the side of our master!
ALL sit at a long table, forming a tableau flanking O like that in The Last Supper, while drinks are distributed by BARKEEP and BLACK HANDYMAN.
PREACHER: It won’t be long now before the day dawns that will see the earth cleansed of its sin with the blood of lambs—
DIPLOMAT: I want your solemn promise!
THIEF: Here’s my solemn fist! [Strikes DIPLOMAT on mouth.]
ZEALOT: How is it possible to organize anything with these anarchists?
PROFESSOR: It’s beautiful—the way we are floundering in our own lunacy!
ZEALOT: [Rises to toast with shot glass.] Lord; let my life be one of beauty and justice, for its roots are sunk deeply into your love of all mankind. I want to mean something! Can you understand that? Can such a simple idea penetrate your divine cranium? In any event; here’s mud in your eye. [Thrusts shot glass toward O in toasting gesture, then drinks quickly.]
THIEF: To hell with all this protocol; let’s get down to brass tacks.
AMERICAN NAZI: He’s right. His thief’s mentality shines like a torch in this cave of ignorance and mixed motives.
ZEALOT: The torch of an incendiary; a looter and common pickpocket.
THIEF: I didn’t make up the rules. I just play the game to win.
ZEALOT: [To O.] And that includes living off the earnings of his whores!
PROSTITUTE: [To O.] I had no idea he was a pimp when we started dating!
THIEF: Where would you be without me—still giving it away for nothing?
PROSTITUTE: All I ever wanted was love!
PREACHER: Let us put aside our frictions! We are all victims of the devil.
PROFESSOR: Is the devil really to blame? I wish I could believe in those Faustian fairytales. Think of the babies I have incinerated! Think of the mutants I have fathered!
G.I.ATROCITY: We had to kill them before they killed us. They shot my fucking face off!
PROFESSOR: It’s all too hideous—[Breaks down.]
CHINAMAN: There is no need for your tears, professor? You did the world a favor ridding it of all those excess mouths to feed. Your defoliants cleared the jungle so we could plant more rice. In Asia you are highly revered. They call you the "Hiroshima Kid!" The truth is not as simple as you think.
PREACHER: Sometimes death is the only answer. Sweep the whole mess into a sewer. Satan tries to confuse us by mixing the innocent with the guilty. But let us not be deceived by his surrogates—
BANKRUPT: Those babies you killed were made of plastic, professor. Their veins contained only ketchup. You shouldn’t lose any sleep over them!
BARKEEPER: There’s a glow in the east. The sun is coming up.
PREACHER: The time has come to act!
AMERICAN NAZI: My plane is loaded with hydrogen bombs and germ diffusers.
PREACHER: [To O.] We have been making preparations to assist you.
AMERICAN NAZI: The problems of mass extermination have become enormously complicated. We used to kill 20,000 a day, 7 days a week in Poland. But we couldn’t dispose of the corpses fast enough. Human flesh is the damnedest stuff to get rid of.
PROFESSOR: Our Chinese friend is right. Humanity has become plasticized! When you incinerate a man nowadays he melts but never totally disappears. His residue remains stuck to your fingers!
G.I.ATROCITY: In my experience, when used properly, napalm will turn people into a neat little pile of clean white ash—
CHINAMAN: In Vietnam they scoop it up with bulldozers and use it as fertilizer. Since you Yanks started throwing flames in Southeast Asia the rice has never been greener or tasted sweeter!
HANDYMAN: I got my razor all nice and sharp for all those KKK motherfuckers out there! [Shows O straight razor.]
PROSTITUTE: [To O.] I’ll infect my tricks with V.D. It’s not much, I know; but it’s the best I can do.
CHINAMAN: We will poison the fortune cookies of those roundeyed cocksuckers who treat us like subhumans in our own chop suey parlors—
BARKEEPER: When you give me the signal I’ll start serving wood alcohol to every teenage cowboy who comes in here trying to impress some cheerleading cunt with his liquor-holding capacity.
ZEALOT: And I will start the holocaustal ball rolling by slashing my own wrists! Suffer in your frozen hells of apathy—boil in the selfhate of outraged impotence! Listen to my voice! Hear how sick, sad, lonely and forlorn it is—[Breaks down and cries.]
HANDYMAN: Hey Jude, what part are you planning to play in this apocalyptic massacre?
JUDAS: Count me out. You can’t kill off the whole human race. Not even with napalm and germ bombs.
PREACHER: The Bible says otherwise. The Good Book tells us God can always find a way!
AMERICAN NAZI: My H-bombs will take care of 99.9 per cent.
JUDAS: There is a better plan—
AMERICAN NAZI: It’s too late for new plans!
PREACHER: We must act now!
JUDAS: Here’s how I see it—the only logical way to rid the earth of evil is by eliminating the devil himself.
PREACHER: The devil is far too clever for that! According to scripture "he disguises himself with infernal cunning."
PROFESSOR: Theoretically his identity should be deducible.
JUDAS: Ask yourselves this: if you were the devil, what disguise would you take? That of a murderer? A dictator? An infidel?
PROFESSOR: I see what Judas is driving at—if Satan is as smart as he is supposed to be, he would disguise himself as virtue incarnate; as a shepherd leading his flock directly into the wolves’ lair!
PREACHER: That doesn’t make him any easier for us to find.
JUDAS: We don’t have to find him. He’s on his way here, to Dallas. It’s in the morning papers. There’s your proof of divine providence! [Produces newspaper which is examined by others.]
PREACHER: What does this mean? Have I misread the scriptural signs?
JUDAS: It means we’ve all been wasting our time!
DIPLOMAT: It means he’s a fraud. This "god" you were waiting for is a phony!
BARKEEPER: Just another bum lured in by the free drinks.
G.I.ATROCITY: The joke’s on us, boys! And one hell of a joke it is! Here we are expecting the arrival of an avenging angel who has divinely chosen us as his henchmen in a righteous bloodbath—and who shows up in Dallas but the Prince of Darkness himself, riding in his portable Presidentbunker and convoyed by a motorcade bristling with secret service firepower to demonstrate the absurdity of our apocalyptic pipe dreams! The handwriting is on the wall, gents, and it’s telling us: Thou Shalt Not Tamper With The Establishmentarian Status Quo.
AMERICAN NAZI: What about my bombing run?
PROFESSOR: Can’t you see it’s all over? The system is as unassailable as that Presidential limousine—
BANKRUPT: [To O.] We’re entitled to an explanation. Have you or have you not been sent to us by some extraterrestrial entity?
O: [Rising, speaking more to himself.] Yes, I have—and you have been sent to me. This is a red letter day. The once-inscrutable reasons for my Texas odyssey are revealing themselves. Cosmic forces are converging here in Dallas—and I am one of them!
PREACHER: Then Judas was wrong!
O: No. Judas is right. He has shown us how with a single clap of thunder we can stun the world into a state of introspection. How with one lightning bolt we might illuminate ten thousand years of political darkness. How with just a solitary rifle shot the call for revolutionary social justice can be heard around the world. [Points to newspaper.] The masses venerate this devil in disguise. He blinds them with his charismatic smile. But behind his seductive mask there is the vilest kind of corruption. We must expose the contents of his satanic skull so there will be no doubt about the evil he represents and the virtue of his assassin. The sword of divine justice has been unsheathed; not by God, but by the hum blest of men!
PROFESSOR: [Stretching, yawning.] This kind of talk was suitable for drunks in the night but now the sun’s rays have sobered us up. This is reality now. The alarm clocks are ringing. The solid citizens of Dallas are resurrecting themselves for yet another try at the brass ring in their merry-go-round lives. Listen! The roar of the rush hour rat race has already begun!
BANKRUPT: I don’t know if I can survive another of these Dallas days—
O: No! The 22nd of November 1963 will be unlike any other day you have lived! When you return here tonight you will remain stone cold sober as you all analyze what happened this day in Dallas! [EXIT.]
BARKEEPER: Jesus, we’ve had some loonies in here, but that character just walked out with the grand prize.
PROSTITUTE: And he didn’t have a single drink!
PROFESSOR: Yes, that’s what’s wrong with the poor bastard. If anyone ever needed the beneficial properties of alcohol, it’s him.
CHINAMAN: [Rising.] We can’t sit around here all day. We too must enter the economic jungle of Dallas and fight for our supper, gentlemen! The Second Coming has come and gone and we still have our bills to pay. The prawns need pealing. The noodles must be made. There is rice to be steamed. That is the kind of history we will make in Dallas today! [EXIT.]
BANKRUPT: What else can one do? Here I am, a once-successful capitalist dispossessed of his business and metamorphosed into a collection agency hitman dispossessing others of what they bought but can’t pay for—doing the dirty work of those who did me dirty—and on it goes until, who knows, maybe mankind will finally be brought to its moral senses by the onset of universal bankruptcy! [EXIT.]
AMERICAN NAZI: Instead of people, I’ll be killing bole weevils today. I will dust the crops of Jewish cotton tycoons whose Yiddish is inflected with a southern drawl! [EXIT.]
ZEALOT: I’m going to write a poem about my congenital defects and send it to my mother! [EXIT.]
BARKEEPER: Sam, there’s a mess in the latrine that has to be cleaned up.
HANDYMAN: Oh Lord, I am so sick of the smell of other people’s puke!
PREACHER: Someday the meek will inherit the earth, Sam. Maybe your grandchildren will get a big piece of that action.
HANDYMAN: Fuck my grandchildren! I want what’s coming to me now! [EXIT with mop and pail.]
PREACHER: Well, I’m off to deliver a sermon on the meaning of what has transpired here this evening, if anyone’s interested? [EXIT after his offer is coldshouldered.]
THIEF: Come on, you old whore; we’ve got some hustling to do. With all these political demigods descending on us every hooker in Texas will be walking the streets of Dallas.
DIPLOMAT: Wait for me. I’ve got some ideas on that subject which could prove to be mutually beneficial!
EXIT THIEF, PROSTITUTE and DIPLOMAT.
BARKEEPER: What about you?
G.I.ATROCITY: There’s a circus in town. I hired myself out as a freak. You want to see my act for free? [Threatens to remove mask.]
BARKEEPER: Nix!
G.I.ATROCITY: What’s the matter? I’m willing to show you for nothing a sight thousands will pay 10¢ to see! [EXIT laughing.]
BARKEEPER: You ever seen him with his mask off?
JUDAS: No.
BARKEEPER: It’s a hell of a thing to see; a man with no face and part of his brains hanging out. He can sober a drunk up with just one look at that misbegotten mug of his.
JUDAS: Change for the phone. [Receives coins from BARKEEP, goes to pay phone.] Hello? Some lunatic is going to try to kill the President today. [Hangs up.]
BARKEEPER: So that’s your racket—you’re a stoolie! A guy thinks he’s going out there to do something all on his own. He thinks he’s got the power to make history—but he’s walking straight into a trap. There are factors he is not aware of. He assumes he has the advantage of surprise, but he is dead wrong!
JUDAS: I gave him a good head start. We do what we have to do and let the gods worry about the outcome.
Sound of three rifle shots is heard.
BARKEEPER: Holy Jesus, he’s done it! The crazy sonofabitch has shot the President of The Unites States!
JUDAS: He said the devil in disguise would be his victim!
ENTER BLACK HANDYMAN with mop and pail.
HANDYMAN: Man, that’s lousy work—
ENTER HERALD carrying robes and masks of the gods.
HERALD: My lords, Air Force One has landed. I have brought your costumes for the final act. There will be a brief intermission now.
JUDAS dons robes and mask of Zeus.
ZEUS: I could use a break—
BLACK HANDYMAN dons robes and mask of Eros.
EROS: Yes. We’ve all earned an intermission—
BARKEEP dons robes and mask of Apollo.
APOLLO: That was quite an experience—
ZEUS: I feel as if I’ve gorged myself on a huge meal of ideas—
EROS: We’ll need a few minutes to digest them all.
APOLLO: What these mortals go through! And the things they think up!
HERALD: This way, Lords; I will take you to your chambers!
ALL EXIT. CURTAIN.
End Act Two