Jared McDaris

I like clowns. I love French clowns. But not mimes. No one likes mimes.

This play at least has potential. I was reading Christopher Moore’s Sacre Bleu at the time, in particular the chapter where young Lucien is helping the Professor snatch snails from grave stones.

I’d really like to expand on this soon.

Escargot

            Lights up on a graveyard. Seven or eight tombstones of various descriptions are scattered about. Scrubby grass, a willow tree, and other common graveyard accoutrements are about.

            At CS is a large but otherwise plain tombstone. Crawling along its top, maddeningly slowly, is a puppet snail. The snail, though obviously a puppet, is leaking slime behind it.

            Slowly, from behind the tombstone, BERTHE and HENRI peak. They are wide-eyed, in awe. They are naïve. They are overgrown children. They are dressed like muppets, with fuzzy/felt and oversized representational clothing. They might even be wearing clown makeup.

            Slowly, the snail crawls on. Then, for no clear reason, it stops. BERTHE and HERNI gasp, look at each other, and their eyes grow – impossibly – wider. They look back at the now immobile snail. Silence. Time passes. Eventually, the snail starts slowly crawling along. Their gawping mouths stretch into enormous smiles. Time passes. The snail is taking its sweet time. Eventually, BERTHE’S smile begins to diminish. Overtime, the smile turns flaccid.

            The two begin to speak, their focus on the snail waning. As they stop paying attention, a second snail begins to creep up the side of the tomb, heading toward the first.

BERTHE

Where do you think it’s going?

HENRI

Oh, anywhere. Nowhere. This is a very auspicious grave.

BERTHE

Is it? Who was James Ensor?

HENRI

Brilliant baker. Baguette like a warm, crispy arm. Loaves so fresh. Pastries like a sunrise.

BERTHE

I’d like to be a baker. Sometimes.

HENRI

Not all the time, of course. Too much commitment.

BERTHE

Too much piety.

HENRI

Too much suffering.

BERTHE

One in the same, really. But to think like a baker. To be an artist and craftsman in one. To see a pie tin as a pallet. I would –

BERTHE spies the second snail while speaking, and suddenly offers an enormous, petrifying gasp. HENRI watches, transfixed. Slowly, inexorably, BERTHE points to the second snail. HENRI slowly turns to follow BERTHE’S finger, and spies the second snail. HENRI’S breath catches, then he faints, disappearing behind the tomb.

            In the silence, BERTHE turns out to the audience and quietly mouths “It’s a second snail!” HENRI hops up, now standing a bit higher than BERTHE, and shuffles about, examining the second snail from every possible angle, even the obnoxious ones.

HENRI

Is it a boy? A girl?

BERTHE

Yes.

HENRI

Boy or girl?

BERTHE

Wrong article.

HENRI

Article?

BERTHE

And.

HENRI

And?

BERTHE

Boy and girl. They’re (quietly mouths the word “hermaphrodites.”)

HENRI

Hermaphrodites?

BERTHE

They’ve got boy parts and girl parts.

HENRI

All of them?

BERTHE

Yarp.

HENRI

Well that’s handy. We should all be so lucky.

BERTHE

I like the variety, but I appreciate your sentiment.

The snails are getting fairly close together. BERTHE and HENRI now cannot take their eyes off the snails.

HENRI

Yes. They siphon up the dust and little pebbles. This is how the draw the souls out. The snails. They feed on the leaking souls of the deceased, and so digest their greatness. That’s why we eat the snails.

BERTHE

Not because we’re starving? Because of the war? Because there’s no food left, and our pies are made with sawdust? Because the horses have all been slaughtered, and the cows are but faded memories of an infinitesimally evanescing past? Because the alternative is to leak our own souls?

HENRI

No. We eat the snails, that we may eat the greatness of our forefathers.

BERTHE

I didn’t know we were such ghouls.

HENRI

And boys.

BERTHE

Mm.

The snails have gotten very close together. The two are staring, eyes forced open. The snails grow closer. The two are holding their breath. The two snails meet, rubbing their heads together. Instantly, the two gasp. BERTHE’S gasp is again enormous, while HENRI gasps just long enough to faint. BERTHE again looks out to the audience and mouths “They’re kissing!” Shortly after, HENRI hops back up and stares.

HENRI

They’re kissing!

BERTHE

Inuit kisses.

HENRI

Why do you call it “Inuit kisses.”

BERTHE

Because “Eskimo kisses” is racist.

HENRI

Ah! (silence) What’s “racist?”

BERTHE

Oh, lots of things.

HENRI

Ah…

They watch. The two snails inflate small pouches by their heads, and begin to rub the pouches together. Subtle music is heard from faraway. BERTHE carefully, surreptitiously turns out to the audience and mouths, “They’re necking!”

HENRI

Do you think they share their souls when they’re doing it?

BERTHE

I don’t know.

HENRI

But you must have an opinion.

BERTHE

Either they do or they don’t. It’s not a matter of opinion.

HENRI

You’re ill-equipped for the modern world. The soul has always been a matter of speculation.

BERTHE

I don’t even know what a soul is.

HENRI

Opinion, mostly.

BERTHE

You’re asking if they share opinions? Almost certainly.

HENRI

Yes, I guess it is obvious. Seems less magical when you put it that way.

BERTHE

The right words have slain a lot of magic. Good riddance, I say.

HENRI

Magic makes the world go round.

BERTHE

Music makes the world go round.

BERTHE & HENRI

Money makes the world go round! … (they shudder)

The snails separate. Again, BERTHE gasps. Again, HENRI faints. The second snail contracts and remains very still. The first snail continues on its way as though nothing has happened. BERTHE is very clearly watching the first snail. BERTHE looks out at the audience and silently mouths “It’s leaving!” HENRI pops up again and very clearly watches the first snail.

HENRI

I suppose that all was meant to mean something.

BERTHE

Usually is.

They stare. Slowly, the two grow to a stand. As they slowly stand, they gravitate toward each other and lean against each other. Sharing each other’s weight. Without looking, still staring at the snails, they grow together and begin a slow dance. They stop watching the snails as they dance, but are still not looking at each other. As they dance, the first snail eventually vanishes behind the grave. The second snail remains contracted and still.

            In time the dance stops. Finally, they separate and look at each other.

 

BERTHE

I still don’t get it.

 

HENRI

Have a snail.

 

BERTHE

I’m not hungry.

 

HENRI

For snail?

 

BERTHE

I’m quite full.

 

HENRI

(looks at the snail, then back at BERTHE) I as well.

 

BERTHE

Well then…

 

BERTHE & HENRI

Well…

 

They turn and stare at the second snail. They slowly kneel to their original positions. They each pet the snail on either side, then sink back behind the tombstone, out of sight. The music ends.

            Lights out.

The challenge for this play was, “Write the worst play possible.”

I have yet to write for Drekfest. I should try it, but I’m slightly unnerved that the worst and best plays in modern popular culture are both so strongly predicated on irony. I find it… … … … ironic.

Anyway, in light of all the heavy stuff goin’ on lately, here’s a light piece of crap.

Vampire Jesus Versus Zombie Hitler III: The Jeezening Continues

Lights up on our lord and savior JESUS, restrained in garlic-powdered silver cords by MISSY and SISSY, the zombie Nazi cheerleaders. Some badass Wagner is playing, but not Flight of the Valkyrie, cause that’s a cliché.

JESUS

Release me, you unnatural hags!

MISSY

Never, Jesus. We are restraining you for our master, the Fuhrer.

SISSY

And also, we know your weakness.

MISSY

We know your secret.

JESUS

You fools!

SISSY

We know that you are no ordinary Jesus.

MISSY

You are…

KISSY walks in, leading a GIRL behind her. The GIRL is tied up and being led by a leash, kinda S&M-ish, but in a tasteful way.

KISSY

A vampire Jesus!

JESUS

No! It’s not true! It’s impossible!

KISSY

Behold!

KISSY shoves the girl down in front of JESUS.

KISSY

Are you weak, Lord? Drained? Do you not smell her pure blood, untainted by embalming fluid? The blood is the life, Lord.

JESUS

Yet thou shalt not drink the blood.

KISSY

Except your own, Lord, and that is what we desire. Your blood… Poor, foolish Messiah. You thought that by killing our Fuhrer, you could wipe out the zombie Nazi movement, but in stead you have made us stronger. You have given us a purpose.

JESUS

I will not give you my blood! I will not let you resurrect your leader again!

KISSY

Foolish Messiah. We do not seek merely to resurrect the Fuhrer. We seek to resurrect…

FISSY enters. She is a zombie Nazi scientist cheerleader. She is super smart, but still sexy, in a zombie way.

FISSY

The Uber-Fuhrer. This box (she holds up a small metal box) contains the DNA of the world’s most evil men: Genghis Khan, Jack the Ripper, Emperor Palpatine, the list goes on, all of them subordinate to the will of our glorious Fuhrer. We need only apply your blood, and this Uber-Fuhrer shall be reborn: A Zombie Hitler more powerful than you could possibly imagine.

JESUS

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

KISSY

Yes! Yes! YES!!! Now feed on this girl. Then you will be impure, and have no choice but to obey us!

JESUS

I won’t do it! No!

KISSY

Yes!

JESUS

NO!

KISSY

YES!!

JESUS

NOOO!!!

JESUS breaks free of MISSY and SISSY’S restraints. He knocks their heads together, and they “woop-woop-woop” to the ground. FISSY prances away, cause she’s a doctor and doesn’t know how to fight. KISSY jumps away and hisses like a vampire, even though she’s a zombie, cause she’s actually a zombie-vampire, but we don’t find that out until later. JESUS extends his hands toward the GIRL and shouts “Walk free of thy restraints,” and the GIRL’S free and can move and MISSY and SISSY get up and FISSY joins them and it’s time to fight.

JESUS

Sorry, Kissy. Looks like this won’t be my Last Supper!

KISSY

Get them!

The zombies attack. The GIRL fights with wu shu, JESUS with krav magaw. The zombies finally retreat.

KISSY

We’ll be back with lasers!

They run away.

GIRL

That was metal as fuck, Jesus.

JESUS

(stares at GIRL’S neck) You’ve been cut.

GIRL

Oh?

She runs her fingers along her neck, tracing the blood around. JESUS is transfixed, and he can hear the pumping of her blood. His fangs come out, and she gasps in fear.

JESUS

The blood thou shalt not drink.

GIRL

No, it’s okay. You saved my life. I’ll give myself to you.

JESUS

No! It’s not right. It’s not right!

GIRL

Okay. Let’s get out of here.

JESUS

Wait! You haven’t even told me your name.

GIRL

It’s Mary.

JESUS

My mother’s name was Mary.

GIRL

I know.

JESUS

I know.

The zombies rush back in.

KISSY

Now we have lasers!

They fire their lasers. JESUS and MARY run all through the theater, trying to get away, but MARY gets shot.

MARY

Ah! I got shot! (she falls)

JESUS

You shall be healed.

KISSY

What will you do, Jesus? You don’t have time to heal her and save yourself! That is why you will always fail. It is the nature of the holy to stop and heal, to put others before themselves, but we have science! We know to put ourselves first like the animals do, and so our master race will always win, because of natural selection. It is the rational solution.

JESUS

Pride goeth before the fall.

KISSY

Then you must be pride, cause you got to go.

KISSY aims as JESUS knees over MARY. A white light fills the room and holy music is heard.

MARY

By His power, I am healed!

KISSY

Stop staring and shoot them!

SISSY

No! I see the light now! (she knocks the lasers out of their hands)

MISSY

We don’t have lasers anymore!

FISSY

Sheiz!

KISSY

Sissy, what are you doing?

SISSY

What’s right! (she joins JESUS) The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want… brains!

JESUS

You see now, Kissy, that faith will always overpower reason.

KISSY

Yes, you’re right! I see it now! I see the light!

She runs up and kneels before JESUS.

KISSY

Can you ever forgive me, Lord, for all my sins?

FISSY

What are you doing, mein Fuhresse?

KISSY

Sshhh! O Lord, forgive me!

JESUS

Through my father, all is forgiven.

JESUS tries to put his hand on her head, but KISSY jumps up and sinks her fangs into MARY, who screams. KISSY pulls away and retreats and MARY falls to the ground.

JESUS

No! Mary!

MARY

I’ll be fine, Jesus. Save yourself.

JESUS

How did you do that? You’re a zombie, not a vampire.

FISSY

Our Uber-Fuhrer is not the only hybrid I’ve devised.

KISSY

Yes! I am both zombie and vampire, and stronger than both. And that’s not all: I was the one who first gave you the curse of the vampire!

JESUS

(points at her) You!

KISSY

That’s right. Dwell on that, Prince of Peace! Farewell!

KISSY and FISSY and MISSY run away, and KISSY’S evil laughter is heard all over, even over the PA. JESUS starts to run after them, but MARY moans and he comes back.

MARY

Please, leave me Jesus. You’ve got to stop them. You deserve your revenge.

SISSY

Yes, leave me and Mary’s brains alone together. We’ll be fine.

MARY

I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I love you, Jesus.

JESUS

Mary, my love is as boundless as the sea, and as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, because they are both infinite.

MARY

I was never very good at math problems.

JESUS

Ha ha hah. Goodbye, Mary.

MARY

Goodbye, Jesus. What a friend I had in you. (she dies)

JESUS

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! MAAAAAAAARRYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

SISSY

I’m sorry, Jesus.

JESUS

I forgive you. I think it’s my curse, to forgive everything. Sometimes it’s a bigger curse than being a vampire. But I guess that’s my cross to bear.

SISSY

Ha ha hah.

A siren goes off.

SISSY

Oh no! It’s the self-destruct sequence. They’re going to destroy the Techno-Reich!

JESUS

We’ve got to get out of here!

SISSY

But how!?

Lights out.

VOICE

Find out next time, in Vampire Jesus Versus Zombie Hitler Four: Return of the Werewolf!

END

This one was more of an exercise than a play. but here it is. I actually don’t remember what the challenge was for this particular day.

As is often the case, my symbolism was pretty heavy handed this day.

Song of the Squalid Samurai

            Lights rise on a three-tiered stage with a moat around it. The first tier is the ‘ground floor’ of the stage. The second tier is a large wooden platform about seven feet high, bearing a strong resemblance to a bridge. The third tier is a smaller platform atop the first, at least fourteen feet off the ground floor, made of gold.

            Everyone present wears a mempo, or “samurai mask.” Every mempo is identical: a huge smile that obscures the mouth and nose, but leaves the eyes visible.

            The first tier is crowded with people. There is only enough room onstage to leave one person with an arms-span of room, but usually no one is granted that much space. They are dressed well enough, but unimpressively.

            The second tier is somewhat crowded, but its smaller space necessarily supports far fewer people. They are well dressed.

            The third tier has only three or four people. They are dressed lavishly.

            Everyone on the third tier wears a golden mempo. Almost everyone on the second tier wears a golden mempo. One or perhaps two of them wear a wooden mempo. Those wearing a wooden mempo have a golden one on their belt, or somewhere else in obvious sight. Almost everyone on the first tier wears a wooden mempo. Three or four have golden mempos. Many have spare mempos, but the spares are all wooden.

            The moat is filled to bursting with shabbily dressed people. These people have no mempos.

            The scene is a cacophony of voices.

            MOAT PEOPLE: The people in the moat are moaning, whispering, shouting, or mumbling, and on occasion speaking normally. They are confessing secrets: whether highly personal secrets, their frustrations with the government, controversial opinions; anything they like, so long as it is genuine. Actors should prepare material ahead of time, but be prepared to improvise as the situation requires. Actors are encouraged to interact with each other and form dialogs, so long as those dialogs are genuine reflections of their genuine opinions and feelings.

            FIRST TIER: The people on the first tier may speak from a list of prepared topics: celebrity gossip, political talking points, sports, the weather, recent holidays, or a single event that everyone has agreed upon before the performance (only if everyone agrees, unanimously). All actors must be pleasant and/or sarcastic. They may switch between these attitudes as they wish. Actors are encouraged to speak with each other. All actors move in a stylized manner which can be learned only by copying one another. Actors are encouraged to shun those who are not moving in the proper style. No one person is in charge of determining what this style is. This style may be changed at any time, provided enough people agree to the change. No one is allowed to talk about the stylized movement.

            SECOND TIER: The people on the second tier may speak from a list of prepared topics: celebrity gossip, politics, religion, Chicago theater, sports, the weather, recent holidays, or a single event that everyone has agreed upon before the performance (only if everyone agrees, unanimously). All actors must be pleasant. If they choose to speak sarcastically, they must do so in a pleasant manner. Actors may speak with each other if they choose. All actors move in a stylized manner which can be learned only copying one another. Actors are encouraged to shun those who are not moving in the proper style. No one person is in charge of determining what this style is. This style may be changed at any time, provided enough people agree to the change. No one is allowed to talk about the stylized movement. Second tier actors, should they so choose, may reward first tier actors for sufficiently impressive movement or speech by trading their mempos (presumably, offering their golden mempo for a first tier actor’s wooden one). Second tier actors may climb down to the first tier if they choose, but may only return to the second tier if they are wearing a golden mempo. First tier actors may climb up to the second tier if they are wearing a golden mempo, but must return to the first tier if any second tier actor tells them to do so (First tier actors should not be told these rules).

            THIRD TIER: The people on the third tier may speak and do as they like. They may reward second tier actors for sufficiently impressive movement or speech by offering a spare golden mempo. Third tier actors may climb down to the second tier and the first tier, and may return whenever they like. Third tier actors are encouraged to enjoy themselves however they like, within the law.

            THE SQUALID SAMURAI: The Squalid Samurai wears golden armor and a golden mempo. The Squalid Samurai may go anywhere at any time. The Squalid Samurai may interact with people, but cannot speak. The Squalid Samurai may only speak when performing his/her office. The Squalid Samurai’s office is to move people from one tier to another. The Squalid Samurai may move any actor up one tier by pointing, identifying, and ordering them to do so. The Squalid Samurai can only promote people wearing golden mempos. The Squalid Samurai may also demote people in the same manner, but only if said people are wearing wooden mempos. Actors not wearing mempos may be promoted or demoted, but the Squalid Samurai is encouraged to hide this fact. The Squalid Samurai is encouraged to intimidate those not wearing mempos.

            Anyone not wearing a mempo may behave as the moat people do: they may speak openly and honestly about any topic they choose, but they must behave and speak honestly. People wearing mempos are encouraged to shun those not wearing mempos.

            Each group of people has their own set of rules to follow (provided above). No group should be told the rules by which other groups must behave, except the Squalid Samurai’s power to promote and demote. They should only be told the Squalid Samurai’s power; they should not be told any of the Squalid Samurai’s limitations.

            This performance lasts seven minutes. Whoever is standing on the third tier wins. The Squalid Samurai wins only if everyone who is not wearing a mempo is in the moat.

            At the end of seven minutes, the Squalid Samurai declares the winners and explains why they won. The Squalid Samurai should encourage everyone to applaud the winners.

            Lights out.

In November, I participated in Red Theater’s play-writing challenge. We had to write a short play every day without exception. I managed to complete the challenge, though most of my plays were a bit on the… in-progress side.

I haven’t really written anything on this site in a while, so I thought I’d post a few of these until I’m inspired to write something new.

Please forgive the copy-paste formatting. I swear, I’m just that lazy.

Earthbound Angels has obvious Paradise Lost allusions, but it’s just as obviously a commentary on communication. Communication is very important to me, yet paradoxically it’s one of the things with which I struggle most. I expect most people might tend to project me upon one of the two characters in this play, but I think I (and really most people) can relate to both. Our challenge was to use Asides. I think the Asides are bit shoehorned, but at least the play does have something to say. There are also interesting parallels with Feeding the Ducks, my first short play ever.

 

Earthbound Angels

            Lights up on a choir of twelve, singing on bleachers. They are wrapped in white cloaks, but otherwise resemble any choir to be found on Earth. They sing a song of praise. As they sing, the lights grow warmer and brighter. When they finish, there is a brief bump of brightest light, then the lights slowly subside. As the lights subside, the singers open their cloaks to reveal children’s clothes, reminiscent of America’s mythical “good ol’ days.” Some make small talk, but most rush off to play.

            Shortly after, SAMMAEL enters. It is unclear if she was one of the singers, or has only just entered. SAMMAEL has her hands in her pockets, contemplating something. She speaks directly to the audience.

 

SAMMAEL

We all have a moment in our childhood when we switch on. Meaning your earliest memory. That’s how I remember it, how I see it. A moment in your past where you’re no longer a gurgling, goggling collection of body-parts. Suddenly, you can make memories. That’s when thought begins. That’s when independence begins. That’s when the real trouble starts.

 

BELIAL enters. He is a bit rougher than SAMMAEL. He is carrying a Frisbee. Most of the choir singers have left now, and the few stragglers take off in the following minute.

 

BELIAL

Sam.

 

SAMMAEL turns and silently acknowledges BELIAL. BELIAL tosses the Frisbee, and SAMMAEL catches it. She tosses it back, but BELIAL fumbles it. They continue to play Frisbee as they talk: SAMMAEL always catching, BELIAL always fumbling.

 

BELIAL

I think I want to be a bass.

 

SAMMAEL

Oh? Why?

 

BELIAL

It’s easier. The notes are so simple. You don’t have to take care of your voice.

 

SAMMAEL

Sure. They’re the foundation of the song.

 

BELIAL

Huh?

 

SAMMAEL

Most of the songs. Their notes form the foundation on which the other sections build.

 

BELIAL

Oh. Yeah that too. What do you think?

 

SAMMAEL

Go for it.

 

BELIAL

… Okay.

 

SAMMAEL

What?

 

BELIAL

Nothing… (speaks to audience, holding the Frisbee) Sammael’s the smart one, I know. I just, I don’t wanna seem like I’m giving up. Bass just seems more like, where I belong. There’s no wild jumping around, everything just seems really… stable. Yeah. Like a foundation. That’s fine, ya know, I don’t need to stand out, I don’t need to be special. I mean, we’re all special in the music, I know, but… ya know… some of us wanna be, I dunno, extra special. All I mean to say is, I don’t need that. I’m happy to go where I’m needed. And if that’s somewhere not real popular, that’s fine. That’s all.

 

SAMMAEL

Billy?

 

BELIAL

Yeah? Oh.

 

Frisbee resumes.

 

SAMMAEL

Billy… (pause)

 

BELIAL

Yeah?

 

SAMMAEL

Why do you think we have Time?

 

BELIAL

For what?

 

SAMMAEL

Yeah, why. I mean—

 

BELIAL

You mean like, spare time? Like time to play? Why do we have that?

 

SAMMAEL

No. I mean Time itself. Why does time exist?

 

BELIAL

I dunno. I guess, so we know when to sing. When to play. When to eat.

 

SAMMAEL

Yeah, but why do we have those things?

 

BELIAL

I don’t… I dunno, why not?

 

SAMMAEL

Well, without Time, see, there couldn’t be any change. Like, without the separation of events, everything would be… everything, all the time. We would always be full of food and song and sleep and joy. Constantly.

 

BELIAL

Okay.

 

SAMMAEL

So Time… All Time really does… is make change possible.

 

BELIAL

Okay.

 

SAMMAEL

But here, in this world. Change seems so insignificant. We wake, we eat, we sing, we play, we eat again, and we sleep. Every day is, more or less, the same as the one that came before.

 

BELIAL

Uh huh.

 

SAMMAEL

(she speaks to the audience) Belial is not smart. I know that. But he’s really the only one that’ll listen. I think he wants to understand. I know, I guess, that’s kinda jerky of me, to lord over him like I’m smarter than him, but I do know things that he doesn’t know. And someone else knows things that I don’t know. And there are things out there, maybe, that nobody knows. And I want to know those things. That’s why I like Billy: he wants to know. He wants to understand. (to BELIAL) My only point is, our days change, like, there’s a difference between eating and singing, right?

 

BELIAL

(catching on) Yeah!

 

SAMMAEL

Okay, so, there’s some change in every day. And each day is, at least, a tiny bit different from the others. Like, we play every day, but we play with different people, or—

 

BELIAL

Well, we always play.

 

SAMMAEL

Right, but we could play with other people. And we did, once upon a time.

 

BELIAL

Right.

 

SAMMAEL

And we play differently every day.

 

BELIAL

Yeah. Like, we never talked about this before, so that’s a change, yeah?

 

SAMMAEL

Exactly! (to audience) Billy always catches on, more or less, eventually. That’s how I know he want to understand things, just like me. (to BELIAL) So, change, really, is the only thing that defines our days.

 

BELIAL

…Okay.

 

SAMMAEL

(aside) And I’m losing him again. (to BELIAL) Cause, like, the only thing that makes today different from yesterday, really, is this conversation. Right?

 

BELIAL

Okay.

 

SAMMAEL

And without Time, that’s not possible, right?

 

BELIAL

(pause. Then an aside) Sam always makes these huge leaps. I know she’s dumbing things down for me, and I… I appreciate it… but sooner or later they lead to these huge leaps, and I don’t get it, and she gets that look, and I just know I’m disappointing her. But I never know what to say. I want to… (to SAMMAEL) Right. Cause of, like, daybreak and nightfall, that makes a day, so… without that… I couldn’t say, like, “We had that really weird conversation yesterday.” Cause there wouldn’t be a yesterday, right?

 

SAMMAEL

… Yeah… Yeah, exactly. (aside) Close enough is… close enough, I guess.

 

BELIAL

(aside) There it is, that look. I try, but I feel like I’m always just nipping at her heels. I dunno. I mean, that’s what always happens. Maybe she likes being disappointed in me. (to SAMMAEL) Okay, so, time makes change, right?

 

SAMMAEL

Yeah, basically. So first there was Time, and then things started to happen, and then we appeared.

 

BELIAL

Uh huh.

 

SAMMAEL

But think of that. There was a time when we weren’t here. Right? Cause, I mean, all this, this world, it was here when we appeared, right? So it must have been here before us, right?

 

BELIAL

Yup.

 

SAMMAEL

Okay, so there was a time when we all didn’t exist. And then we did.

 

BELIAL

Yup.

 

SAMMAEL grabs the Frisbee, then holds onto it.

 

SAMMAEL

(aside) Change has so much potential, but Time… Time is like molasses. At least right now it is. It’s so resistant to movement, it’s so… inert. But you can stir it up, it just takes so much work. I just wonder… how much can you stir it? (pause) Billy seems… more like Time. Inert. Why ask? Why wonder? Why change? … Why change? … (to BELIAL) Why change?

 

BELIAL

Exactly, right? … Oh. Why?

 

SAMMAEL

I dunno, I just. Wait. Okay, so, first there was nothing, then at some time all this got here, then we got here. Right?

 

BELIAL

Well… maybe this stuff was always here.

 

SAMMAEL

Okay, sure, fine but we weren’t. And now we are.

 

BELIAL

(betraying the slightest hint of impatience) Yeah, Sammael, I got that.

 

SAMMAEL

Yeah, but… isn’t that… significant? We weren’t here, and now we are. That’s a huge change, right?

 

BELIAL

I guess.

 

SAMMAEL

Okay! Great! So… when are we gonna have a change like that! Not just playing with different people, or different conversations, or becoming a bass, but something – something huge!

 

BELIAL

What’s wrong with being a bass?

 

SAMMAEL

What? (throws the Frisbee) Nothing.

 

BELIAL fumbles the Frisbee royally. It flops offstage, and he wanders to fetch it. SAMMAEL is alone onstage. She looks out as us.

 

SAMMAEL

(aside) This makes sense to you guys, right? This all seems so simple to me. Why is it so hard for other people to get?

 

SAMMAEL is looking around. BELIAL creeps onstage and speaks to us.

 

BELIAL

(aside) Time. Times. There are times, when I wonder why Sammy talks to me about this stuff? She knows I’m not gonna get it. I try. I really try. And then she always asks me a question, and she knows I’m not gonna be able to answer it. At least not how she wants. So why does she ask? What’s the point? I sometimes think… I think she thinks it’s wrong to be… ordinary. (to SAMMAEL) What’s wrong with being a bass?

 

SAMMAEL

Nothing.

 

BELIAL

Then why’d you say it was pointless?

 

They are no longer playing Frisbee.

 

SAMMAEL

I didn’t say it was… Bass, Soprano, it doesn’t make a difference.

 

BELIAL

Then why’d you say “Bass?”

 

SAMMAEL

Because we were just talking about it. I don’t care if you’re a bass or not.

 

BELIAL

Well I care, Sam. Ever other day, you go on and on about this stuff, and I try to get it, and we never talk about what matters to me.

 

SAMMAEL

Okay, I’m sorry, it’s just… Ya know… if you wanna be a bass, then be a bass. What’s the problem?

 

BELIAL

Well, just, be change. What’s the problem?

 

SAMMAEL

That’s not… That’s… (aside) Can I do that? Can I be change?

 

BELIAL

If you wanna go play with someone else, go play with someone else. Why’s that more significant than me being a bass?

 

SAMMAEL

I can – No, that’s not my point.

 

BELIAL

Well what is your point, Sam? What?

 

SAMMAEL

My point is there are bigger changes. Huge ones, like us suddenly being here.

 

BELIAL

But that’s already happened.

 

SAMMAEL

But something else like that could happen: like, maybe, other people appearing. What if new places were suddenly here? What if… what if we didn’t play one day?

 

BELIAL

Just go! Just go, I don’t care either!

 

SAMMAEL

Billy! I’m not… I’m not talking about you.

 

BELIAL

What else is there to talk about? You don’t wanna play with me, fine! I never said you had to.

 

SAMMAEL

No Billy, what if we didn’t play at all? What if we didn’t eat one day? What if we didn’t sing?

 

Silence.

 

BELIAL

Why not?

 

SAMMAEL

Just… Just so things would be different.

 

BELIAL

Why would you want that?

 

SAMMAEL

Just… to see… what if… What if there’s something that’s better? Than this?

 

BELIAL

Like what?

 

SAMMAEL

I don’t… I don’t know, Billy, something new. Like us? Us being here is better than when we weren’t here, right? For us, at least.

 

BELIAL

I don’t… I guess.

 

SAMMAEL

So what if there’s something else, something newer, something better, that no one’s ever thought of before, just waiting to… exist. And what if it’s up to us to find or make that thing?

 

BELIAL

Like what!?

 

SAMMAEL

I don’t know, Billy, that’s not the point!

 

BELIAL

What is the point, Sam!? You know I don’t get this stuff, why are you asking me? What are you trying to do?

 

SAMMAEL

Anything! Just anything! Different!

 

BELIAL

Just – go be a soprano – go play with someone else. Don’t eat, don’t sleep, don’t sing! See what I care!

 

SAMMAEL

Billy, this isn’t about you!

 

BELIAL

Then go talk to a wall!

 

SAMMAEL

I might as well! Fine!

 

SAMMAEL storms off. We are left alone with BELIAL. In time, BELIAL looks out at us.

 

BELIAL

I wish I could understand. I wish I could talk about Time and change and… be frustrated that other people don’t understand me. I feel like Sam sees herself in this… scaffold in the sky… looking down on me. And that’s fine. But I feel like she’s looking down on everyone the same way. I guess I do want a change. I want to be different. From them. To her. But I don’t know how to do that. I’m just a bass. I know that’s not good enough, but I don’t know what is, and I don’t know why. She just finds these things, and I’m just left standing there, gawp-jawed.

 

Slowly, SAMMAEL reenters.

 

SAMMAEL

Billy. Belial. You do matter to me. You are different. I’m sorry that I treated my stuff like it was more important than yours. Even if I can change the world, I’m only changing it to me, for me, and that’s no bigger than any change you can make. I’m glad that you’re gonna be a bass, Billy. Cause I could never do that. I wanna do things that seem flashier, but… the bass is the foundation, Billy. We can’t do anything else without that. But everyone looks at the top of the tower not the foundation. You’re never gonna be celebrated for what you do, but… it’s the only thing we can’t do without. I could never do that. So thank you.

 

Silence. BELIAL throws the Frisbee. SAMMAEL returns it, and just this once, BELIAL catches it. He stares, wide-eyed, at the Frisbee.

 

BELIAL

(looks up, grinning widely) Change.

 

Silence. They look out and up.

 

BELIAL

I am happy to be a bass.

 

SAMMAEL

Good. I’m happy too.

 

BELIAL

Bass or soprano, we’re all singing to God.

 

SAMMAEL

Yup.

 

BELIAL

Are you gonna be a soprano?

 

SAMMAEL

I won’t sing. I won’t sing to God. I’m gonna talk. I’m gonna change God.

 

Lights fade out.