ACT TWO
Scene 1
The set is as it was at end of Act One but now the diningroom has, once again, been decorated for a birthday party. It is night and lighting is dim. MATILDE dozes in chair. MOTHER GODOT ENTERS with 2 empty bottles, trying carefully to navigate stage, she nevertheless trips and falls. SABRINA ENTERS, helps her up.
MOTHER GODOT: I really thought I’d make it this time! It’s always the same stool, isn’t it!
SABRINA: I put it over here because you usually come in over there.
MOTHER GODOT: That’s why I came in over here! [Brief laugh before EXIT.]
SABRINA: [Moving stool.] The poor dear—she really has got quite a lump on her shin. Well, it’s 2 years later now. We thought it would be nice to welcome Monsieur back from the war with another birthday party even though his birthday was a week ago. Oh yes, he’s alive—he survived the war, just like his horoscope predicted he would! The Army called the day before yesterday and confirmed the fact that he was on his way home from the jungles of French Guiana. But so far he hasn’t shown up. It’s almost 10 o’clock. I should wait until midnight, I suppose—but in the final analysis we all have our own lives to live and there’s a Robert Redford film I’ve been dying to see at the Odeon.
ENTER MOTHER GODOT with full bottles, trips over stool again.
MOTHER GODOT: [Goodnaturedly.] Ah! You moved it again, didn’t you!
SABRINA: [Helping her up.] I thought—
MOTHER GODOT: So did I—
SABRINA: I didn’t think you would think that I thought—
MOTHER GODOT: Neither did I—[At footlights, to audience.] Good morning. Good morning—
EXIT MOTHER GODOT.
SABRINA: [To MATILDE.] Madam, it’s almost 10 o’clock.
MATILDE: What?
SABRINA: It’s nearly 10 o’clock. I’m going now.
MATILDE: Where is everyone?
SABRINA: They’ve all gone to bed, madam; exhausted by the emotional strain.
MATILDE: Oh! He’s not coming back, Sabrina!
SABRINA: I’m sure he will, madam. So far everything that horoscope forecast has come true, hasn’t it? [Putting on coat.] I’d really like to stay, but the show starts at 10:10.
MATILDE: The show?
SABRINA: Robert Redford at the Odeon?
MATILDE: Oh, yes—well, run along and enjoy yourself, Sabrina—
SABRINA: Thank you, madam—[To audience.] I know it might seem heartless to leave her all alone at a time like this, but really, you have to grab what little pleasure there is in life—and, right now, seeing Robert Redford is more important to me than finding out what happened to Monsieur Godot. [EXIT.]
MATILDE: Oh Felix, Felix, my poor little darling—what new cruelty of fate has overtaken you—and me! I’m really not equipped to handle tragedy. I’ve always been a coward. And now, every time I see a banana—you have no idea how embarrassing it is in the supermarket to suddenly burst into tears—and then try to explain to people!
GODOT bursts into room. He is wearing full combat gear (camouflaged fatigues, paratroop boots, beret). He carries a submachine gun. Immediately he takes cover behind a large chair or sofa. MATILDE emits brief scream.
MATILDE: Is that you, Felix? Felix?
GODOT: [In hoarse, urgent whisper.] Shut up!
MATILDE: [Whispering.] What’s the matter?
GODOT: I think they tailed me from the airport—
MATILDE: They tailed you?
GODOT: Yeah.
MATILDE: Who tailed you?
GODOT: Who else—the guerrillas, for Christ’s sake!
MATILDE: The ones from the jungle?
GODOT: Yes—
MATILDE: The jungle in Guiana?
GODOT: Yes—
MATILDE: All the way here to Paris?
GODOT: They follow you to the ends of the earth if they have to, the fanatical bastards.
MATILDE: But surely, they wouldn’t—do anything—here—in Paris?
GODOT: Why not in Paris? Paris would be the best possible place to ambush me. They think I’ll let my guard down here! [Laughs.] But I saw them—I saw them at the airport. That’s why I gave the slip to those MPs who were escorting me home and made it here on my own.
MATILDE: The guerrillas were at the airport?
GODOT: They’re all over Paris. Disguised as porters, cab drivers, even customs officials. You can see the pistols hidden under their jackets and the outline of that jungle knife they keep strapped to their leg. The sonsofbitches have blowguns they can disassemble and carry in a plain paper bag; and that’s a lousy way to die—by the blowgun. At least with a rifle there’s a warning. Bang. You have a splitsecond in which to say goodbye and salute the sophisticated technology that was required to blow you away. But with a blowgun you die by surprise from a technology the fucking cavemen developed!
MATILDE: I don’t understand what difference it makes how you die.
GODOT: In the jungle you don’t have much else to think about. You know you’re going to die and there’s nothing else to talk about so you get deeply involved in the subject. You become a goddammed connoisseur of death. You know what the absolute worst way to die is?
MATILDE: Can’t we turn the lights up and look at each other?
GODOT: The punji stick. You know what a punji stick is?
MATILDE: Of course I don’t.
GODOT: It’s a small bamboo spear the FLG stick in the ground with the sharp end up. They smear that sharp end with shit—
MATILDE: Felix—such language! I’ve been meaning to say something about your vocabulary since—
GODOT: Human shit—their very own shit. My God, it’s so bloody primitive, so fundamental, so obscene—to be killed by the other guy’s shit!
MATILDE: I refuse to listen, Felix—I’m covering my ears!
GODOT: They can pierce the soles of the thickest combat boots, those goddamm punji sticks. They usually get you right here—in the arch of your goddammed foot—like a bloody barbecue skewer. And once that shit of theirs gets into your bloodstream, you’re finished!
MATILDE: You must stop using that foul language, Felix.
GODOT: How the hell did you expect me to talk after spending two years in that living hell known as French Guiana? Two bloody years sleeping with one eye open and my finger on the trigger! Never taking a single step without feeling the sharp tip of that shitsmeared bamboo stabbing into my foot! Seeing every one of my buddies turned into moldy green corpses!
MATILDE: But you survived all that, Felix. They didn’t kill you!
GODOT: No, not yet, anyway. [Laughs bitterly.] They think they’ll nail me here, but I have a surprise for them. [Lights cigarette.]
MATILDE: My God—is that a cigarette? You’re smoking cigarettes now?
GODOT: You pick up some bad habits in Guiana. [Pause.]
MATILDE: Do we have to keep hiding like this?
GODOT: Only if you want to stay alive. Listen! [pause.]
MATILDE: I don’t hear anything.
GODOT: That’s just it. The guerrillas never make any noise, those devils!
MATILDE: We were going to surprise you with a birthday party.
GODOT: They’d love that, wouldn’t they? What a sweet target I’d make blowing out those candles. Anyway, the boys threw a goingaway party for me at Iracoubo on my last night.
MATILDE: I thought they were all dead!
GODOT: They keep sending new blood in, like they sent me in. But nobody ever lasted two years. They called me "Lucky." Lucky Godot. The bastards took bets my plane would crash on the way back to France!
MATILDE: How nice of them!
GODOT: It was a nervewracking trip. I was sure the FLG would find some way of putting a bomb on that plane.
MATILDE: But that’s all over now, Felix. You’re home. You’re safe—
GODOT: Safe! Christ, can’t you see I’m like a bone in their throat? When you first get to Guiana you find little notes planted in your boots, in the folds of your laundry, in your cigarette pack. Notes written on toilet paper in bad French telling you how no Frogeater ever gets out of their jungle alive; that if they have to fight for a thousand years they will continue to slaughter every single Frenchman sent to Guiana. You think they’re going to let my survival queer their propaganda?
MATILDE: But you can’t go on living like you’re at war the rest of your life!
GODOT: Why not? I am at war.
MATILDE: The understanding we had with the government was that after you served your 2 years our lives would be returned to normality.
GODOT: In the Army you learn not to believe anyone, or to trust anything—except your weapon. That’s the only friend you’ve really got in a pinch. [MATILDE weeps.] Why the waterworks?
MATILDE: I thought we’d be so happy when you came back; that everything would be just as it was.
GODOT: You’ll get accustomed to the new reality. I’ll let you in on a little secret of military life: I used to cry myself those first few weeks in Guiana. But you learn to live with fear and death.
MATILDE: I don’t want to learn to live with fear and death!
GODOT: That’s up to you.
MATILDE: I’ll show you there’s nothing to be afraid of out there, Felix.
GODOT: What are you doing!!!!
MATILDE: I’m going to stand right in front of that window. I’m going to turn the lights on and stand right in front of that window!
GODOT: You can stand in front of the window if you want. It’s your neck. But if you turn the lights on, I’ll blow your fucking head off.
MATILDE: Felix, I am going to turn the lights on and you are not going to kill me. This is number 94, Rue Dauphine, Paris, France. You are no longer in the jungles of Guiana. [Pause.] Do you hear? The idea of you shooting me with that—thing—is just too silly for words. [Having crawled to switch, she turns light on, then pokes head up from behind a chair.] Felix? I’m going to stand up now—don’t you dare do anything rash. [Slowly she stands. GODOT pops up with machinegun at the ready. MATILDE winces, reacts with a nervous squeal.] Now, I’ll show myself in this window and you will see how absurd your fears have been—[Cautiously ‘exposes’ herself in window.] You see! There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of!
GODOT: That doesn’t prove a goddamn thing. They’re not after you. [Lights cigarette, tosses match on rug.] If they knocked you off I’d know they were out there, see? No percentage in it for them wasting you when I’m their prime target—[MATILDE retrieves match, gets ashtray for GODOT.]
MATILDE: You certainly have picked up some bad habits—
GODOT: That was no Sunday school picnic I was on. You don’t go through something like that without changing.
MATILDE: If I hadn’t been expecting you tonight I never would have recognized you, Felix—you’re so brown—so hardlooking! Your eyes have become so deeply set; they’re really quite ferocious-looking. And those muscles in your arms—they positively ripple!
GODOT: [Moving, resisting MATILDE’s attempts at ‘fraternization.'] You have to keep in shape if you want to survive.
MATILDE: Would you like a piece of birthday cake?
GODOT: I’d rather have a beer. A nice, cold beer would be o.k.
MATILDE: You really have changed, haven’t you? You’re almost a complete stranger. Smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, swearing and cursing. It looks as if you haven’t even shaved for a couple of days; and, as for a bath—
GODOT: I’m comfortable like I am.
MATILDE: [Crawls to him.] But surely a bath would be nice—lying in that warm, soapy water? [Twines fingers in his hair.] I could even scrub your back for you—
GODOT moves to new hidingplace, assumes combatready position.
GODOT: You’re distracting me. [Laughs.] Christ! Wouldn’t those motherfuckers just love to nail old Lucky Godot in his bathtub!
MATILDE: Felix, this has really got to stop. Do you hear? We’ve been through 2 years of hell too; all of us. And now it’s time for everyone to get back to normal. So please come up to bed like a good little boy. [Stands.] I am going up to the bedroom, Felix. [Takes steps.] I will draw the bath for you. And after your bath, I’ll be waiting in bed. Think of that lovely, clean bed. Think of your Matilde, so nice and soft and pink; just waiting to feel that new, hard, clean body of yours. I’ll bet you learned a few tricks in the Army. I know you haven’t been faithful to me, Felix. I’m not that naive. I know what soldiers get up to. But I understand. As a matter of fact, I’d be the first to admit that our former sexlife was a bit on the conventional side. So, if you have had other women it doesn’t bother me. Actually, I find the idea of you making love to some—other woman—slightly—well—thrilling. You see! You have nothing to be ashamed of. You can treat me like one of those whores you had down in Guiana. You did have your share of whores down there, didn’t you? [GODOT laughs to himself.] You can do anything you want to me, Felix—as long as you take a bath first. I’ll be waiting in the "boudoir." [EXIT.]
GODOT crawls to light switch. Turns lights off. Sound of oboe playing ‘A’ is heard
GODOT: [As if responding to oboe.] So, I was right! They are out there! That is what you are trying to tell me with that oboe of yours—isn’t it dad? Why don’t you just come out and say it? Don’t they let you communicate in plain language? Against the rules, huh? Or could it be that you are the message—you, with your skull smashed in by a fucking trombone slide? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? [Adds furniture to reinforce his little fort.] Well, message received loud and clear, dad! The cocksuckers aren’t going to get Lucky Godot in the back of his head, goddammit! [Settles down for sleep.] No—they won’t get me—not like—that—
GODOT sleeps. Pause. Lights come up indicating it is morning.
Scene 2
ENTER SABRINA. As she makes noise GODOT leaps up, firing a burst from machinegun. SABRINA screams hysterically.
GODOT: All right, all right, the shooting is over, Sabrina. You shouldn’t have done that—
SABRINA: What did I do!
GODOT: Entered a bivouac area without giving an appropriate warning. Are you wounded?
SABRINA: I don’t think so—
GODOT: Jesus—to think I missed you at this range!
ENTER HENRI followed by COUNT, LULU and MATILDE, all in bed clothes. Confused dialogue with GODOT and SABRINA ensues—‘What was that noise? Is that you, Daddy? What’s going on?’ etc.
MATILDE: Put that thing away, Felix, before you really hurt someone.
LULU: Daddy, you look terrific! A French Charles Bronson!
HENRI: I can’t believe it! Is that a tattoo on your forearm?!
GODOT is still pointing machinegun at the family. They seem to frighten him.
LULU: You wouldn’t shoot your little Lulu, would you, Daddy? [Approaches GODOT.]
COUNT: Lulu, be careful!
LULU: How fierce your eyes are—just like a trapped animal’s! And that little pot belly of yours has gotten all hard and flat, hasn’t it?
GODOT: My God—you’re still pregnant?!
LULU: Not still, you silly. Again. You’re going to be a grandpa twice over, Daddy!
MATILDE: Yes, and you ought to start acting like one.
LULU: Why are you still dressed up like a legionnaire?
MATILDE: He thinks the guerrillas are out there waiting to ambush him.
COUNT: Good Lord! They’re not, are they?
HENRI goes to window.
HENRI: There’s no one out there except a street cleaner—
GODOT makes dash for side of window. He peers out cautiously.
GODOT: He must be one of them, all right—see how dark his skin is?
HENRI: More likely he’s an Algerian. Paris is full of them nowadays. He can hardly attack you with his broom, can he?
GODOT: Not unless it has a hollow handle. Could any blowgun be more perfectly camouflaged? And who’s that suspiciouslooking character in the window across the street?
MATILDE: That’s just Victor, the playwright; Sabrina’s boyfriend.
SABRINA: It’s true, Monsieur. Please don’t shoot him!
Door chime sounds. GODOT leaps back into furniture fortress, puts new clip in machinegun.
GODOT: All right, let the fuckers in! I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!
MATILDE: Felix—this has got to stop! You can’t shoot up this room anymore and that is that! Go ahead—answer the door, Sabrina; but don’t bring in whoever it is.
On way to answer doorbell SABRINA stops to address audience.
SABRINA: I just wanted to tell you I didn’t know about that machinegun. I’m certainly going to tell Victor a thing or two about it! It’s no joke, being shot at. But the bullets aren’t really what bothers me. What really bothers me is that if I didn’t know about being shot at, what else don’t I know about that might transpire in this play? [Door chimes.] Not knowing what’s going to happen from one moment to the next is too much like real life! According to the script there’s supposed to be an Army psychologist at the door. But just supposing it’s a gang of jungle gorillas (sic) from French Guiana? [Door chimes.]
MATILDE: Sabrina!
SABRINA moves off warily.
GODOT: Henri! You’re in my line of fire!
MATILDE: Stay right where you are, Henri!
GODOT: I’m warning you, boy!—
SABRINA RE-ENTERS.
SABRINA: There’s nothing to worry about, folks. It was a psychologist at the door. His name is Professor Laurient and he’s been sent here by the War Department. [Hands MATILDE business card.]
MATILDE: A graduate of the Sorbonne!
SABRINA: He wants to know if Monsieur Godot’s behavior is anything out of the ordinary.
MATILDE: Send him in!
GODOT: I’m warning you. I’ll blast the sonofabitch if he makes one wrong move.
MATILDE: He’s from the government, Felix.
GODOT: Yes; my old friend—the government! I want you to frisk him before you let him in here.
COUNT: I’ll search him—
GODOT: Check his legs. Make sure he hasn’t got a knife strapped to his calf.
COUNT: Don’t worry, Felix—you can count on me! [EXIT.]
HENRI: You really are a killer, aren’t you, dad!
GODOT: I’ve wasted my share of gooks.
HENRI: That’s terrific—terrific!
COUNT ENTERS with LAURIENT. He is professorial-looking, wears tweeds and sports salt & pepper beard.
COUNT: He’s clean, Felix. Is that what you say? "Clean?"
GODOT motions LAURIENT into room with barrel of machinegun.
LAURIENT: Well, well—what have we got here?
GODOT: That’s far enough! Put your hands behind your head!
MATILDE: Felix!
LAURIENT: It’s all right, madam. The sergeant is in command here. We must all do what the sergeant wants us to do. [Puts hands behind neck.]
GODOT: Turn around.
LAURIENT turns.
LAURIENT: I haven’t got a grenade hidden under my collar, if that’s what you’re looking for.
GODOT: All right. [LAURIENT turns to face GODOT.] What do you want?
LAURIENT: Nothing, sergeant. This is just a routine call we make on all returning veterans to see how they’re adjusting to civilian life.
GODOT: That’s bullshit. There haven’t been any returning veterans. I’m the only one who’s ever made it back from French Guiana!
LAURIENT: Yes. That’s what makes your case so fascinating. We hope to learn a lot from you. I think it would help if we could talk alone for a few minutes, sergeant.
GODOT: [Thinking.] O.k. I’ll buy that. The fewer distractions the better. Everybody out. Clear the area!
With a nod from LAURIENT, ALL EXIT but LULU.
LULU: Now don’t do anything rash, Daddy. We don’t want them taking you away from us again. [Blows him a kiss. EXIT.]
GODOT: Well, what do you want to know?
LAURIENT: For starters, why are you holding me at gunpoint?
GODOT: Because you might be one of them.
LAURIENT: Them?
GODOT: Those bastards from Guiana. The FLG.
LAURIENT: I see. And why would the FLG come all this way just to get you?
GODOT: Because I survived. They don’t like survivors.
LAURIENT: I’ll buy that.
GODOT: [Ironically.] Thanks!
LAURIENT: From your point of view that hypothesis is both a prudent and a reasonable one. As a matter of fact, I predicted you would react exactly as you are now reacting. Considering what you’ve been through, Godot, your behavior is quite normal.
GODOT: How the hell would you know what I’ve been through, "professor"? [Lights cigarette with one hand.]
LAURIENT: I’ve been there. To Guiana. Doing research.
GODOT: Research into what?
LAURIENT: The psychology of certain death.
GODOT: That must have been nice. Having all those human guinea pigs to experiment on. Well? What conclusion did you come to?
LAURIENT: My report to the War Department stated that men who are marked for certain death suffer a negative morale effect.
GODOT: Jesus. What would the War Department do without guys like you telling them which side of their bread to butter!
LAURIENT: They wouldn’t know which side of their bread to butter. [GODOT can’t suppress his laughter over this.] Anyway, the Department fully appreciates your importance, sergeant. You are a rare symbol; a man who defied certain death in the jungle. Already they are telling your "inspirational" story to all the new recruits. "If Godot could do it, you can do it. If a flabby 45-year old bank teller can survive in the jungles of Guiana, you can survive in the jungles of Guiana—"
GODOT: Chief Teller.
LAURIENT: Excuse me?
GODOT: There’s a helluva difference between being a "bank teller" and being the "Chief Teller of a Bank."
LAURIENT: Yes, of course; forgive me. You’re a man with a manifestly superior intellect, Godot. That’s why I’m sure you’ll understand you have absolutely nothing to fear here in Paris.
GODOT: Make me understand.
LAURIENT: The War Department is on your side, Godot. They are very concerned about keeping you alive. It may surprise you, but in point of fact, the War Department agrees with you that your assassination by the FLG is a very real possibility. That is why they have surrounded you with the most comprehensive security arrangements in the history of Paris—
GODOT: Are you talking about that pair of desk jockeys masquerading as MPs who met me at the airport?
LAURIENT: They were only decoys whose incompetence, it was hoped, might have tempted the FLG into making a move on the tarmac where we had laid out an inescapable field of fire—
GODOT: A field of fire I had no difficulty escaping from!
LAURIENT: We couldn’t stop you at the airport without tipping our hand. But you were followed by a team of sharpshooters all the way on what you thought was your solo journey home. And now the entire arrondissement surrounding this apartment is saturated with special forces. Every port of entry is being subjected to the most extraordinary security precautions. Even the President of France doesn’t receive the kind of protection you are being given, Godot. But just keeping you alive isn’t good enough—
GODOT: No!
LAURIENT: The War Department doesn’t want you living like a hunted animal for the rest of your life. That is hardly a soldier’s dream of survival, is it? So, for the Department’s sake and your sake, I’m here to help you return to a completely normal life—to walk in the sunshine, to sit in a cafe, to take a nap on Sunday afternoon, et cetera. That is my job, sergeant. To help you back into that sweet, blissfully uneventful life of a bank teller—
GODOT: Chief teller!
LAURIENT: Yes, of course. Chief teller. Now, what can I do to convince you I’m on your side completely?
GODOT: That’s easy. You can get the hell out of my house.
LAURIENT: All right. You have my card.
LAURIENT turns and EXITS. GODOT relaxes, takes machinegun apart for cleaning. SABRINA ENTERS gingerly with tray of sandwiches and bottle of beer. Then, while striking birthday decorations into a cardboard box, she addresses audience.
SABRINA: 10 whole days have passed now and he’s still playing his little war games as you can see. There hasn’t been any more shooting, thank God. You might be interested in knowing that I’ve gotten a solemn promise from Victor that from now on there will be a warning before any more guns go off. That Professor Laurient has been back twice and seems to be establishing a little rapport with Monsieur. But he still has to keep his hands behind his neck. He’s left us some little powders we slip into Monsieur’s beer and that seems to have calmed him down a bit. But don’t dare go near him when he’s sleeping. He’s nervous as a cat, then. Nobody comes into this room anymore if they can help it. Not that they’re so afraid of getting shot. It’s the smell! Monsieur says that special odor is a part of war. Soldiers, it seems, don’t wash themselves for months on end. He says you get used to being filthy. Well, that may be true; maybe you can get accustomed to your own filth, but you never get used to someone else’s—and that is the truth—
GODOT: Now that you’ve taken ’em down, burn the damned silly things.
SABRINA: Monsieur?
GODOT: I said, burn ’em!
SABRINA: But these are the decorations from Monsieur’s 5th birthday!
GODOT: Well, it’s about time they were gotten rid of then, isn’t it? A man has to put his 5th birthday behind him eventually, doesn’t he?
SABRINA: Yes, Monsieur—
GODOT: And I’m moving camp today—[Gathers his things.]
SABRINA: Moving camp?
GODOT: Can’t hang around in one spot too long. How’s the pantry?
SABRINA: The pantry?
GODOT: Is there enough room for me in there?
SABRINA: Monsieur is going to "bivouac" in our pantry?
GODOT makes sudden dash to window and peeks out.
GODOT: The pantry should be ideal. No windows, no rear to cover and plenty of grub—that goddamm playwright is still looking at us from of his window.
SABRINA: I don’t think Victor will approve of your moving into the pantry. He likes to keep an eye on what’s going on.
GODOT: So, that’s why he’s shaking his fist—[Laughs, makes obscene gesture.]
SABRINA: I wouldn’t antagonize him unnecessarily if I were you, monsieur. He’s the one who wrote this play—
GODOT: Well, we’ll see about him and his play—
GODOT dashes to pantry, extreme stage left.
SABRINA: [At window listening to VICTOR’S AGITATED SPEECH.] What’s that? We’re cutting to the boudoir scene? But he’s in the pantry, Victor! It’s really very inconvenient, shifting all this furniture right now—yes, yes—alright love. I’ll see what I can do.
SABRINA begins pushing furniture to side, making room for bed to be moved on stage. During this, MOTHER GODOT ENTERS with empty bottles, crosses warily and finds to her surprise there isn’t any furniture left to stumble into. She EXITS and RE-ENTERS with full bottles, successfully making the return trip. Addresses the audience.
MOTHER GODOT: Oh my! That was really quite miraculous—quite miraculous! [EXIT.]
As bedroom set is being established, LAURIENT ENTERS, knocks on pantry ‘door.'
GODOT: Who is it?
LAURIENT: Professor Laurient.
GODOT: What do you want?
LAURIENT: Would you please open the door?
GODOT: Open it yourself.
GODOT points gun at LAURIENT, who mimes opening ‘door.'
GODOT: Well?
LAURIENT: A couple of items. First: peace talks between the government and the FLG will be starting in Geneva tomorrow. The announcement will be made tonight in all the media. Second: I’ve been around to your bank and they are not satisfied with your progress. They’re giving you one more week to get your ass in gear or you can kiss your career adieu. Third: in the light of one and two above, I think it’s time to accelerate your rehabilitation program. You’ve noticed I haven’t put my hands behind my neck?
GODOT: I noticed.
LAURIENT: And you didn’t shoot me.
GODOT: Not yet.
LAURIENT: So we’ve made some progress. And just then you made that little joke about not having shot me yet, didn’t you? That’s a good sign. You are returning to normalcy whether you like it or not. And you know it. You are beginning to get outside yourself and look down on the man who’s hiding in his own pantry in the middle of Paris—a Paris that is bursting with the joy of life. Is this what you struggled to achieve by surviving your jungle odyssey? You are no longer Sergeant Godot, hero of the Guiana campaign. You are plain Felix Godot, citizen Godot—just one of the crowd, winding down the days of his life in the blissful twilight of anonymity. Even the FLG is ready to give up the struggle and return to the injustices—and the trivialities—of peace. Heroism gets to be a pain in the ass after a while. One’s liver can only take so much exaltation, Felix. I’m here to tell you the time has come to pick up where you left off. I want you to think about that. I want you to think very seriously about that.
LAURIENT makes abrupt EXIT. As lights dim on pantry, GODOT lights cigarette, takes puff, looks at cigarette and snuffs it out. MATILDE has ENTERED bedroom set established by Sabrina.
Scene 3
MATILDE sits at vanity brushing hair. She wears dressing gown. GODOT ENTERS bedroom quickly but not with his former ferocity. Nevertheless he checks room out for ambush possibilities. MATILDE follows him with her eyes. GODOT lies on bed.
GODOT: Ah. That feels good.
MATILDE crosses to bed.
MATILDE: Is it over? Are you "cured"?
GODOT: I don’t know—
MATILDE: Are you going to sleep here?
GODOT: I don’t know—
MATILDE: Did you hear on the radio—they said the peace talks between the government and the FLG were starting in Geneva tomorrow?
GODOT: Yes.
MATILDE: That means the war in Guiana will be over and those guerrillas won’t care about "Lucky Godot" anymore.
GODOT: It might be a trap—
MATILDE: What might be?
GODOT: Those socalled "peace talks." The FLG might be setting the whole thing up to give me a false sense of security—
MATILDE: An International Peace Conference just to trick Felix Godot? The Russians will be there! The U.N. is sending a delegation! Henry Kissinger (or present American Secretary of State ) is on his way from Washington!
GODOT: You don’t think I’m that important to the FLG, eh?
MATILDE: I don’t care about the FLG! To me you are! To me you are the most important human being in the world; in the universe! [Lies beside him.] Don’t think I haven’t been "turned on" by the rugged way you act and talk—even the way you handle that machinegun!
GODOT: You like my little Uzi?
MATILDE: Oh yes—and the way you move; like a beast on the prowl. Even those cigarettes dangling from the side of your mouth—it’s all terribly sexy, darling—[Tries to embrace him but is injured by part of his combat gear.] Ouch! We can’t make love like this, Felix. You’re as prickly as an alligator!
GODOT: I’ll take the grenades off—
MATILDE: No! You’ve got to take everything off!
GODOT: I can’t do that—
MATILDE: [Moving away.] And you’ve got to have a bath first.
GODOT: Just like a woman! First you tell me you like me the way I am; that the "beast" in me excites you! And then you want me to be scrubbed clean like a baby—some harmless little thing you can cuddle! The night I came home you said you wanted to be treated like a whore. Well, this is how we treated the whores in Guiana! With them we didn’t even bother taking our pants off!
MATILDE: [Leaving bed.] That’s quite enough, Felix. The mood has passed—
GODOT: [Pursuing her.] Or, I could show you how we deflowered the native girls when we raided their villages in the bush!
MATILDE: [Stopping ears.] Not another word!
GODOT: Yes. I can see the idea of being raped appeals to you—[From behind he clutches at her breasts, kisses back of her neck and roughly throws her to the bed.]
MATILDE: Felix; No!
GODOT: [Undoing belt.] By God, I’m going to rape you here and now, woman!
MATILDE: Not until you’ve had a bath first!
GODOT: Believe me, it won’t be nearly as much fun if I’ve been sanitized. Don’t you understand; a rapist should be in full combat gear, caked with the grime of war, reeking with the stench of death!
MATILDE: That’s your idea of rape, Felix. Mine is quite different! And, since I’m the one who’s going to be raped, it’s only fair that I have a say in it—
GODOT: Fair? You want a fair rape?
MATILDE: It’s getting very late, Felix. If you don’t hurry into that bathroom this mood we’re in will evaporate!
MATILDE sits up and slips off top of dressing gown to reveal bosom under sheer negligee. GODOT reaches out to touch. She slaps his hand.
MATILDE: Not until you’re squeaky clean, you naughty boy!
GODOT: [Hesitates, then starts undressing.] Why don’t we do it right in the tub?
MATILDE: Felix!
BLACKOUT. We hear GODOTS laughing lasciviously in the darkness.
Scene 4
On side of stage opposite bedroom lights rise on SABRINA as she prepares breakfast tray.
SABRINA: [To audience.] Well, it looks like we’re in for a happy ending, after all. [Carefully refolds newspaper she has been reading; adds it to tray.] The peace conference is moving right along, the wine industry is talking about a vintage year and the forecast for Scorpio looks very auspicious today. The Godots have been sharing the same bed every night for a week now. Victor has begun working on a new play. Henri’s "Fart Filters" are becoming all the rage, and Lulu is on the verge of bringing yet another Romanov into the world. Who would ever have thought things could turn out so nicely? Frankly, Victor is not known for his happy endings! Maybe that’s why he isn’t known at all, I keep telling him! After all, if you’re a shoemaker, you can’t expect people to buy tight shoes. But he says, "good drama should pinch a little." Well, there are pinches and there are pinches, if you know what I mean!
Lights up in bedroom. GODOT alone on bed. SABRINA takes tray to him.
[Moderately apprehensive.] Is it alright to come in?
GODOT: [Reaches for machinegun hanging on bedpost.] Are you alone?
SABRINA: Yes. It’s only me—Sabrina—your maid.
GODOT: Alright. Enter. [Seeing it is her, puts machinegun away.]
SABRINA: Your breakfast, Monsieur. [Puts tray on bed.] Is madam dressing?
GODOT: [Opening newspaper.] Madam is in church.
SABRINA: Church, monsieur?
GODOT: For some reason she felt a sudden need to confess. [SABRINA giggles and gets a rude look from him.] Well, how is my horoscope this morning?
SABRINA: Very favorable, monsieur.
GODOT: And the peace conference is moving right along.
SABRINA: The weather’s very nice today, too—
ENTER LAURIENT.
LAURIENT: A nice day for taking a stroll, Felix—
GODOT grabs his machinegun but does not aim it at LAURIENT.
SABRINA: Good morning, Professor—
EXIT SABRINA as LAURIENT replies with nod.
GODOT: And what brings you here so early?
LAURIENT: I’ve come to say goodbye.
GODOT: Goodbye? What’s that supposed to mean?
LAURIENT: It means the Department is closing your case. The war is being wound down and they are reassigning me to more important matters.
GODOT: What could be more important than the rehabilitation of Sergeant Godot?
LAURIENT: I believe you are rehabilitated, Felix. If it weren’t for that absurd machinegun, you could be mistaken for a normal Frenchman. Why don’t you get rid of the damned thing?
GODOT: I still need it.
LAURIENT: What is there to be afraid of? Surely it’s not the FLG . Deep down you always knew how absurd it was to think they would hunt you down here, in your own home—
GODOT: If it was such an absurdity, why did the government garrison this neighborhood to protect me?
LAURIENT: The government didn’t.
GODOT: What are you saying?
LAURIENT: There never have been any security arrangements for you, Godot. No special forces on the roof tops; no surveillance at the airports. All this time you’ve been absolutely vulnerable. There has been nothing between you and the FLG except—3,000 miles of Atlantic Ocean. So you see how ludicrous it is for you to sit there in your nightshirt aiming that Uzi at me. It would be laughable if there wasn’t the very real risk you might go on clinging to this grim fantasy for the rest of your life. That’s why I came back for one last visit. I want you to give me that weapon.
GODOT: No.
LAURIENT: If you don’t give it to me, the Army will come and take it away. They don’t like having their ordnance in the hands of civilians. They can’t risk the possibility of a massacre.
GODOT: They think I’m nuts?
LAURIENT: What do you think? They wanted to take you by force that first day but I persuaded them—in the interest of scientific research—to give me a chance at bringing you out of it gradually. I knew you would have shot it out with them!
GODOT: Those bloody doubledealers. You’re damned right I would have shot it out with them!
LAURIENT: Let’s not be too hard on the Army, Felix. They did listen to me, after all. It was they who gave me the chance to save your sanity. They trusted me. It looks as if they were misguided in that trust, eh? This episode has not been good for my professional reputation. Psychiatry doesn’t enjoy the esteem it once did. But I am determined not to fail, Felix. You are going to give me that weapon or I am going to take it away from you. And I am going to deliver it to the Army and say: here is the proof that reason can accomplish more than bullets and bazookas and flamethrowers. Here is the proof that a man’s mind can be gently untwisted from the horrible contortions of a warrior mentality. And here is the proof that nothing is stronger—or sweeter—than the trust one man puts in another. I’m asking you to let me have that proof, Felix—[Extends hand to receive machinegun.] Believe me, you will be transformed the moment you relinquish it. That Uzi isn’t really aimed at me, Felix. It’s pointing right at your own heart. You are the target. You are the prisoner. You are the hostage! Can’t you feel how heavy it is? How cold and clammy it seems? How utterly inappropriate such an instrument of death is to these tranquil surroundings? What is that obscene object doing in the hands of Felix Godot—a man who wants only to lose himself in the warm bedclothing of his middleclass anonymity once again? Isn’t that what you really want? The peace and quiet of the old days? Another chance to submerge yourself in the tepid banalities of a meaningless, but relatively safe, life? Let’s be honest, Godot—like most Frenchmen you are an existentialist at heart—not a martyr for the cause of Gallic machismo! [He is able to take machinegun from GODOT, who has become quite mesmerized by the speech.] There. You see how easy that was?
LAURIENT seems to be aiming machinegun at GODOT, who lunges for the weapon. But Laurient is beyond his reach.
LAURIENT: Do you think I’m going to shoot you? Why would I want to do that? All the time you had me on the business end of this thing, did I ever flinch—did I once think that you could look me in the eyes and pull the trigger? I trusted you, Felix. I Trusted you with my life!
GODOT: Alright. I trust you.
LAURIENT: Do you really mean that?
GODOT: Yes, I really mean it.
LAURIENT: Then give me the knife too.
GODOT: What knife?
LAURIENT: The knife you have strapped to your leg.
GODOT: The knife is not government property.
LAURIENT: I know. It’s a knife you picked up in the jungle.
GODOT: Then why does the government want it?
LAURIENT: The government doesn’t want it. I want it.
GODOT: What the hell do you want with a jungle knife?
LAURIENT: The real question is: what do you want with a jungle knife? I want it so that you won’t have it. I wouldn’t like to think that one of my expatients is walking around the rest of his life with a knife strapped to his leg. Call it a matter of professional pride. I like my ex-patients to be completely cured. I also don’t happen to believe we live in a jungle. But if we all start strapping knives to our legs, we might discover we need them; and then this glorious French civilization of ours will indeed become a jungle. So?
GODOT: What choice have I got with that Uzi aimed at me?
LAURIENT lays machinegun on chair or vanity, holds his hand out to receive knife. GODOT lifts his nightdress and removes knife from its sheath. on his calf. He points it at Laurient, then reverses the knife and gives it to him grip first.
GODOT: Careful. It’s razor sharp.
LAURIENT: Yes, I know—
Sound of oboe. GODOT is alarmed but there is little he can do except hope he hasn’t made a fatal mistake.
LAURIENT: It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it—perfectly balanced—light as a feather—a feather of steel.
GODOT: The guerrillas fabricate them from the French choppers they shoot down in Guiana. It’s their weapon of choice. They say—"When all else fails, a man has his knife—"
LAURIENT: Yes—I know what the guerrillas say about their knives—[Removes beard with one hand—a Spanish accent in his speech now.] The knife has a certain mystical appeal for savages—[Menaces GODOT with knife, forcing him to retreat.]
GODOT: Christ!
Oboe sounds a strident note.
LAURIENT: See how the light strikes the blade? It’s quite hypnotic. The perfect unity of form and purpose is awesome, no? One cannot look at such a knife without feeling it pierce the skin and plunge into the tender mysteries that lie within us—eh, Godot?
GODOT: You bastard! You filthy, lousy bastard! Why?! Why like this?!
LAURIENT: We couldn’t let you escape, could we? We couldn’t let you survive—
GODOT: Why not? What difference does one man make?
LAURIENT: All the difference in the world, Godot! It would disrupt the cosmic symmetry. It would disrupt the universe! It would upset the balance of trade! [Laugh.] The banana market would be plunged into chaos, amigo! Don’t you understand how delicately poised everything is? Did you really think your acts of heroism in the jungles of Guiana didn’t matter?
GODOT: But the peace conference; the papers say the war is coming to an end—
LAURIENT: Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, amigo. The "peace conference" was designed for only one purpose: to make you drop your guard! And it has done just that, hasn’t it?
GODOT: Shit! I knew it was a putup job! And they all said I was crazy!
LAURIENT: You are crazy, amigo—crazy like a fox. That’s why it is essential for us to finish you off. If there were any more Frenchmen like Felix Godot, it would make life very difficult for us. We admire your fanaticism—but we must terminate it before it infects all of Europe—before it contaminates the whole of Western civilization with the unrelenting will to triumph! [Lunges but GODOT eludes him. He stalks GODOT until he has him in a corner.] Now—now it is all over! The war is finished!
Another lunge by LAURIENT which GODOT eludes while reaching for machinegun. Oboe is screeching in short, harsh bursts. GODOT gets hands on gun, but LAURIENT stabs him in the back. GODOT staggers, falls onto bed. A sustained note from oboe. GODOT tries to turn gun on LAURIENT but dies. Oboe stops playing. LAURIENT regains composure, checks to see that GODOT is dead.
LAURIENT: Sorry it had to be in the back, amigo—but—well, you know how it is in the jungle.
EXIT LAURIENT. Pause. ENTER SABRINA.
SABRINA: Monsieur? [Reacts to GODOT’s corpse.] Oh, Victor, how could you! The audience won’t like this at all. They won’t understand—[To audience.] I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Just make believe this last scene didn’t happen; that the peace conference was a huge success—and that Monsieur Godot went back to work at the bank and started growing his pot belly again—and lived to the ripe old age of—83. Yes! That is how this play should end!
GODOT FAMILY ENTERS and surround bed as mourners.
SABRINA: Surrounded by his loved ones Felix Godot, former Prime Minister of France, loving husband, father, grandfather and greatgrandfather, succumbed quietly during the night in his favorite bed—having lived a reasonably productive and (except for a brief episode in the jungles of Guiana) pleasantly uneventful life.
GODOT FAMILY and SABRINA EXIT in file. Sound of oboe is heard several times. It seems as if it is asking a question—the notes sharpening at their end. The lights fade until total darkness is achieved.
GODOT: Is that you, dad? [Oboe replies ‘yes.'] I tried, dad. [Oboe replies ‘I know.'] But my fate was inescapable. [Oboe replies ‘yes.'] I did the best I could, but that wasn’t good enough it seems—
A sustained note on oboe is joined now by full orchestra playing last minor chord of Berlioz’ Symphonie Funebre et Triomphale. Then that great major chord leading to the final, triumphant section of the piece is heard as chorus joins orchestra to produce soaring Grand Finale; during which Felix ‘Lucky’ Godot is seen rising heavenward from his bier—with or without wings.
End of Play