3:33pm: Second Verse, Same As The First...
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WAITING FOR BECKOT
ACT II
Next Day. Same time.
Same place.
10th Green: Pilgrim's frisbee golf gloves front center, palms together, fingers splayed. Barnes' bucket hat in same place. [All characters wear bucket hats] The tree has four or five leaves. Enter Idiot agitatedly. He halts, looks at tree, then moves feverishly about the green. He stops, picks up one of Pilgrim's gloves, examines it, sniffs it, manifests disgust, puts it back carefully, comes and goes. Enter Pilgrim, barehanded and bowed. Idiot turns and sees him.
IDIOT: You again!
PILGRIM: Blah, blah. You're here, you're gone. What good are you?
IDIOT: Did I ever leave you?
PILGRIM: You let me go.
(They embrace)
IDIOT: They beat you again? Who beat you? Tell me.
PILGRIM: You couldn't have stopped them.
IDIOT: Why not.
PILGRIM: There were ten of them.
IDIOT: Before that, I would have stopped you from whatever you were doing.
PILGRIM: I was doing nothing!
IDIOT: Then why did they beat you?
PILGRIM: No one knows. I wasn't doing anything.
IDIOT: Maybe not, but it is the way you don't do it that counts, if you want to go on living.
PILGRIM: It might not be in the cards.
IDIOT: You must be happy, too, deep down, in your misery, you must find joy.
PILGRIM: About what?
IDIOT: To be reunited with me!
PILGRIM: You would say so?
IDIOT: Say it, even if it's not true.
PILGRIM: What am I to say?
IDIOT: Say I am happy.
PILGRIM: You are happy.
IDIOT: And you.
PILGRIM: And you.
IDIOT: Oh well, it will have to suffixe.
PILGRIM: What do we do now, now that we are suffixiently happy.
IDIOT: Wait for Beckot. (Pilgrim groans.) Things have changed here since yesterday.
PILGRIM: And if he doesn't come?
IDIOT: We'll see when the time comes. I was saying, things have changed here since yesterday.
PILGRIM: Looks the same to me.
IDIOT: Look at the tree.
PILGRIM: You call that a tree! It's not even a bush!
IDIOT: Well, it was there yesterday, we nearly hanged ourselves from it, but you wouldn't, don't you remember?
PILGRIM: You dreamt it.
IDIOT: Is it possible you've already forgotten?
PILGRIM: Well, if it was written by this idiot it couldn't have been very memorable.
IDIOT: And Slice and Barnes, have you forgotten them as well?
PILGRIM: I remember a swine who kicked me in the balls and then played the fool!
IDIOT: That was Barnes.
PILGRIM: Yes, Barnes.
IDIOT: And his keeper, do you not remember him as well.
PILGRIM: He gave me a bone.
IDIOT: Yes, that was Slice.
PILGRIM: And all that was yesterday, you suggest?
IDIOT: Certainly it was yesterday.
PILGRIM: And here, where we are now?
IDIOT: Where else do you think? Do you not recognize the place?
PILGRIM: What is there to recognize! I'm drowning here and you ask me to describe the water!
IDIOT: Oh, yes, Nicholson, a nice touch, Barnes!
PILGRIM: I hope you can not now be mistaking me for that stinking sheep!
IDIOT: Nicholson? Well it's true he's put on a few pounds, but sheep? No, I don't think we can categorize him that way, Barnes.
PILGRIM: Best thing would be to kill me altogether, like that other.
IDIOT: What other?
PILGRIM: Like all the rest of the others.
IDIOT: To every man his cross to bear. Until he dies, and is forgotten.
PILGRIM: I guess we are incapable of remaining silent.
IDIOT: You're right, we're inexhaustible.
PILGRIM: It's so we won't think.
IDIOT: We never think.
PILGRIM: So we won't hear.
IDIOT: Wha'd you say?
PILGRIM: Etcetera and so forth. And now? What should we do?
IDIOT: Wait for Beckot.
PILGRIM: Ah!
IDIOT: We are cursed with thought.
PILGRIM: From the beginning. Let's go.
IDIOT: We can't. We're waiting.
PILGRIM: For what?
IDIOT: We're waiting for Beckot.
PILGRIM: Ah! What'll we do?
IDIOT: Nothing to be done.
PILGRIM: Where are my gloves?
IDIOT: Where did you put them?
PILGRIM: I don't remember.
IDIOT: (spies them on the green) There they are, on the green.
PILGRIM: (seeing the gloves) There's only one, and those are yellow; mine were white.
IDIOT: The other one is behind the shed, beside the fence. Someone has taken yours and left these in their place.
PILGRIM: But why?
IDIOT: Too loose.
PILGRIM: No, too tight.
IDIOT: Not yours, his. Maybe these will fit just fine.
PILGRIM: We'll try. (Tries them on) Too tight, don't fit.
IDIOT: Well, they can't convict you now.
PILGRIM: Wha...?!
IDIOT: Football term, the Prevent Defense.
PILGRIM: What-ever. Let's go.
IDIOT: We can't.
PILGRIM: Why not?
IDIOT: We're waiting for Beckot. (Spying Barnes' hat.) Lo, what's this, Barnes' hat.
Here Idiot hands Pilgrim the bucket hat off his own head and puts on Barnes' bucket hat; Pilgrim takes off his own bucket hat and puts on Idiot's hat, and hands his hat to Idiot, who takes off Barnes' and puts Pilgrim's on, handing Barnes' hat to Pilgrim, who takes off Idiot's and puts on Barnes,' handing Idiot's back to Idiot, and so on in this fashion for several rounds.
PILGRIM: Which one am I wearing?
IDIOT: Dunno. Me?
PILGRIM: Dunno?
IDIOT: Let's play Slice and Barnes.
PILGRIM: Never heard of it.
IDIOT: I'll be Barnes, you be Slice. (He imitates Barnes, sagging under the weight of his baggage.) Go on.
PILGRIM: What do I do?
IDIOT: Curse me!
PILGRIM: Asshole.
IDIOT: Stronger!
PILGRIM: Lawyer!
IDIOT: Oh, we're play-acting, you don't have to be cruel.
Enter Slice and Barnes. Slice is blind. Barnes, burdened as before. At sight of Pilgrim and Idiot Barnes stops short. Slice, continuing on his way, bumps into him.
SLICE: What is it? Who is it? (Barnes falls, drops everything and brings down Slice with him. They lie helpless among the scattered baggage.)
PILGRIM: Is it Beckot?
IDIOT: At last!
SLICE: Help!
PILGRIM: Is it Beckot?
IDIOT: We're no longer alone, waiting for the night, waiting for Beckot, waiting for...waiting. All evening we have struggled, unassisted. Now it's over. It's already tomorrow.
SLICE: Help!
IDIOT: Time flows again already. The sun will set, the moon rise, and we away...from here.
SLICE: Pity!
IDIOT: Poor Slice.
PILGRIM: I knew it was him.
IDIOT: Who?
PILGRIM: Beckot.
IDIOT: But it's not Beckot.
PILGRIM: It's not Beckot?
IDIOT: It's not Beckot.
PILGRIM: Then who is it?
IDIOT: It's Slice.
SLICE: Help me help me help me!
IDIOT: He can't get up.
PILGRIM: Let's go.
IDIOT: We can't.
PILGRIM: Why not?
IDIOT: We're waiting for Beckot.
PILGRIM: Ah!
IDIOT: He might have another bone for you.
PILGRIM: Bone?
IDIOT: Chicken. Yesterday's lunch, do you not remember?
PILGRIM: It was him?
IDIOT: Him.
PILGRIM: Ask him.
IDIOT: Perhaps we should help him first.
PILGRIM: To do what?
IDIOT: To get up.
PILGRIM: He can't get up?
IDIOT: He wants to get up.
PILGRIM: Then let him get up.
IDIOT: He can not.
PILGRIM: Why not?
IDIOT: I don't know.
PILGRIM: Let's get the bone first; if he refuses we'll leave him there.
IDIOT: You mean we have him at our mercy?
PILGRIM: Certainly.
IDIOT: And we should subordinate our good offices to certain conditions? But then I worry about Barnes.
PILGRIM: Barnes?
IDIOT: The one who kicked you.
PILGRIM: There were ten of them.
IDIOT: No, before them, the one who kicked you in the nuts.
PILGRIM: He here?
IDIOT: In the flesh.
PILGRIM: We could jump him.
IDIOT: Ambush?
PILGRIM: A sheep in wolf's clothing is worth two in ambush...
IDIOT: Oh dear...Still, we ought to help the man.
Pilgrim and Idiot attempt to help Slice get up, but fall themselves, and wallow for what seems an eternity in the chasm of chaos and self-pity. They right themselves, and help Slice to his feet. Slice counsels them in abusing Barnes, the better to pass the time. They kick Barnes but hurt their feet, and Slice gathers himself to depart with Barnes.
IDIOT: Can you have Barnes give us a song before you leave?
SLICE: But he is dumb.
IDIOT: Dumb? Since when?
SLICE: Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time! It's abominable! When! When! One day, is that not enough for your, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more. (He leaves with Barnes.)
IDIOT: (to Pilgrim) I'm not sure he's really blind. Seems like he saw us.
PILGRIM: You're sure it wasn't him?
IDIOT: Who?
PILGRIM: Beckot?
IDIOT: (Considering) Hmmm, not at all. Not sure at all! It might have been Beckot! And what will we tell people, that we were waiting for Beckot and Slice came, and spoke to us! (Looking at Pilgrim) He'll know nothing. He'll tell me about the beating he's taken and I'll give him a carrot.
Enter A Dog, holding a letter in his mough.
A DOG: Arf!
IDIOT: Ah, another note. (To A Dog.) From Beckot?
A DOG: (Nodding) Arf!
PILGRIM: What's it say?
IDIOT: (Reading the note) So, it says he won't come this evening, but he'll come tomorrow.
A DOG: Arf! (Lifts his leg upon Pilgrim's trousers.) Arf!
PILGRIM: Oh, not again. We ought to hang ourselves.
IDIOT: Have you got a bit of rope?
PILGRIM: No, no rope, radio.
IDIOT: We'll just have to wait.
PILGRIM: For what?
IDIOT: Beckot.
PILGRIM: And if he shows?
IDIOT: We'll be saved.
PILGRIM: We'll never be saved. He's not coming. I'm going.
IDIOT: You're right. Let's go.
PILGRIM: Shall we go?
IDIOT: Yes, let's go.
PILGRIM: Okay, we're going.
IDIOT: We're outta here.
PILGRIM: Adios.
IDIOT: Adieu.
PILGRIM: Twenty-three skidoo.
IDIOT: Vamanos!
They do not move.
-CURTAIN-
Posted by cronish at April 14, 2002 04:04 PM