In a fusion of Beckett and Lovecraft, two fools wait for the coming of their dark God. |
Characters: Scott: Blonde, clean cut. Cabbie Hat. Oberon: Tall, dark haired, heavy. Top Hat. Barda Cthulhu (Open, lights up, Scott and Oberon are seated on a pair of chairs, a box between them. Oberon’s shirt is smeared with blood, he is slouched in his chair.) Oberon: Dearest Scott, I seem to be covered in blood. Scott: So you are, good Oberon, are you harmed? Oberon: Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s mine. Scott: Have we finished with the lofty Elizabethan English? Oberon: It would seem so. Scott: That’s good, it gets tedious quickly. Oberon: So, what comes today? Scott: He comes today. Oberon: Who? Scott: Cthulhu. Oberon: I don’t think he’s going to come today, brother. We’ve waited, and waited and waited, and seen nothing. Scott: (looking into the audience) Is he out there? Oberon: (squinting) No, all I see out there is more nothings. Scott: Perhaps. None of them look like the unknowable horror we’re expecting. Oberon: How are we expecting it if it’s unknowable? Scott: What? Oberon: How does one expect the unknowable? Scott: I don’t know, faith? Oberon: Faith? Faith in what? Scott: That which we cannot understand, just know that he loves us. Oberon: Cthulhu loves us? Scott: I doubt it. Oberon: Then why are we here? Scott: Because it’s written that way. Oberon: By whom? Beckett? Lovecraft? Stoppard? Kirby? Scott: I don’t know. There’s something sinister about the whole mess. Oberon: Undoubtedly. Scott: So let’s leave. Oberon: Where do we go? Scott: Is there anywhere else? Oberon: I sincerely doubt it. (From the wings, enters Barda. She walks onstage and looks around, not noticing the pair.) Oberon: Is that him? Scott: I don’t think that’s a him at all. Oberon: Is Cthulhu a him? Scott: I’ve heard he has height, width, depth, and a couple of other things, too, I bet it hurts to look at him. I guess he’s really not a him, then. Oberon: Should we address her? Scott: Why? We’re not waiting for her. Oberon: It will help pass the time. Scott: What time? Oberon: Not now. (he calls to Barda) You there! Ma’am! (Barda lifts her head, and looks toward them.) Barda: Comment? Vous parlez à moi ? Scott : Are we sure she’s not Cthulhu ? She’s speaking in tongues. Oberon: Be quiet. We’ll get through this. Scott: (calling at Barda) Are you Cthulhu? Barda: (moving closer to them) Je suis désolée. Je ne parle pas votre langue. Oberon : She’s not Cthulhu. Barda : Ne parlez plus à moi ! Vous me mettez en colère ! (she storms out) Oberon : Now look what you did ! Scott: We didn’t need her anyway! Oberon: Maybe you didn’t but I can think of a few things I’d like her around for. Scott: You’ll always have me. Oberon: I don’t want you for those things. Scott: Oh. Well, I would. Oberon: I know you would. Crash offstage. Scott: That’s him! Oberon: I don’t want to look at him. Scott: Neither do I. Oberon: We could put out our eyes. Scott: Do you think he’d approve? Oberon: I hope so. Each of them pulls a fork from his pocket, and in unison, they raise them to their eyes. Oberon: Wait. This is going to hurt, isn’t it? Scott: Terribly. Oberon: Give me your fork. Scott: What? Oberon: Give me your fork. I don’t want to put my eyes out one at a time. It will hurt too much after the first one, and I won’t want to do the second. Scott: Oh. Oberon: So, I’ll put my eyes out, and then you can have the forks and do it to yourself, so we don’t have to look at him. Scott: Yes, that makes sense. (Scott hands his fork to Oberon, who raises both of them to his eyes. As he’s about to blind himself, Scott stops him.) Scott: I don’t want to watch. You should do it over there. (he points offstage) Oberon: But I’ll be blind, I’ll have to walk back on in the blackout. Scott: The nobodies don’t want to see that either. They just want to see the fallout. Oberon: You’re right. For the nobodies. (he leaves and Scott covers his ears, Oberon screams bloody murder, before re-entering blindfolded, holding the forks.) Your turn. Scott: You know, I don’t think I should. Oberon: What? Scott: That looks remarkably unpleasant. Oberon: It was. Please. We have to match. Scott: Why? Oberon: We need to match, otherwise we’ll get identities. And if we have identities, responsibilities are soon to follow. We can’t have that. (Another crash offstage.) Oberon: What was that? Scott: Cthul— BLACK. END |