Category Archives: One-Act Play

LIFE SKETCHES (SHORT SCENES AND MONOLOGUES): “AT THE DOG PARK” (6) · Apr 9th

By Bob Shuman

SCENE: A dog park in the Bronx. 

NARRATOR:  As Mary Jane suspected, the dog park was closed, on 4/6/2020, along with all runs throughout the city.  Fearing Coronavirus infection, and a fine of one thousand dollars, if caught keeping a social distance of less than six feet from one another, people, out of home isolation, seemed to act silently and in slow motion. The public pathways, where Juno and Jasper were taken, were often uncrowded, especially in the April mists and rains, although this could change when there was sun.  Lantern was glimpsed, one morning, looking out a back window, rolled down, as Mary Jane’s car drove by the elementary school and slippery fallen magnolia blossoms, heading south. In the afternoons, Christie walked his dogs by the Hudson, and he recalled a little-known, sometime playwright of the archaic, who had composed, years before, a one-act on themes similar to those voiced now, during the pandemic.

 

TRAVELERS

 Based on and adapted from Shakespeare and Boccaccio, a companion piece to As You Like It

 

CHARACTERS:

DUKE SENIOR: His royal’s possessions included land in the Ardennes, where, after being exiled, he now lives in dense woods. (50’s) 

JAQUES:  A melancholy lord and follower of Duke Senior. (40’s)

FORESTER I:  A lord and follower of Duke Senior. (30’s)

FORESTER II:  Another of Duke Senior’s men. (40’s)

TOUCHSTONE:  A court fool of Duke Frederick, brother of Duke Senior.  The clown followed Rosalind and Celia to the Forest of Arden after banishment, although he knows little of country ways. (20’s)

AUDREY:  An unsophisticated country wench. (20’s)

MARTEXT:  A country vicar. (50’s)

The forest setting includes rough-hewn benches and a table—a stone ring to make a fire.

Suggestion for introductory music: Huun Huur Tu “Sixty Horses in My Herd.”

 

 

SETTING:  In the forest.

PLACE: Duke Senior’s encampment.

TIME: The plague years.

 

AT RISE: DUKE SENIOR and MEN are putting out a fire, preparing to hunt deer.  JAQUES enters with excitement.

 

JAQUES:

(Entering.) A fool, a fool!  I met a fool I’ the forest.

 

FORESTER I:

(About Jaques.) Must herbs need.

 

JAQUES:

A motley fool; a miserable—

 

FORESTER II:

Valerian.

 

HUNTER I:

Will only make him more melancholy.

 

JAQUES:

Drawing a dial from his poke.  And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye—

 

FORESTER I:

Perhaps saffron and . . . eye of newt.

 

JAQUES:

It’s ten o’clock says the fool very wisely; Thus we may see, ‘quoth he, ‘how the world wags; ‘tis but an hour ago since it was nine—

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Without jerkin?

 

JAQUES:

Without gabardine.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Next to venison?

 

JAQUES:

On its path.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Come shall be retrieved.

 

JAQUES:

And after one hour more ’twill be eleven, he says . . .

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Perhaps shall we see your clown.

 

JAQUES:

And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot.

 

(JAQUES laughs. Silence. A note of sadness—the joke is not as funny as Jaques intended.)

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Dost think that jocund?

 

JAQUES:

More there was.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Doth not of patched amusement seem.

 

JAQUES:

If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

‘Tis better.

 

JAQUES:

And hereby hangs a tale.

 

DUKES SENIOR:

(Ignoring.)  Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile . . .

 

JAQUES:

I am ambitious for a motley coat.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Then you shall have it.

 

JAQUES:

I thought thou wouldst delight.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

(Returning to his speech.) Old custom hast made this life sweeter than painted pomp.

 

JAQUES:

(Thinking of the clown.) Oh, worthy fool.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Are not these woods more free from peril than the envious court?

 

JAQUES:

As I do live by food.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Like Robin of old England, who ’tis said we live like . . .

 

JAQUES:

Motley’s the only wear.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

From the rich he steals–givest to the poor.

 

JAQUES:

Grant me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of the’infected world.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

(Noticing that JAQUES has not been paying attention.) I can tell what thou wouldst do.

 

JAQUES:

If they will patiently receive my medicine.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Fie on thee!

 

JAQUES:

To expose the hypocrisy of the world.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin.

 

JAQUES:

Why, who cries out on pride? 

 

DUKE SENIOR:

If you cans’t earn your keep and help our endeavor instead of souring.

 

JAQUES:

That can therein tax any private party?

 

DUKE SENIOR:

There are spies from the court!

 

(Silence.)

 

JAQUES:

He is but a coxcomb, my lord.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Something more than that.

 

JAQUES:

A merry man of the woods.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Thinkest he hast no objective?

 

JAQUES:

To give mirth.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

For thyself has been a libertine. As sensual as the brutish sting itself; And all th’embossed sores and headed evils.

 

JAQUES:

(About himself.) Hast been a traveler.

 

DUKE SENIOR:

(About Touchstone.) When you have robbed him, pillaged for our company, shall you find him and strip his clothes as demonstration!

 

(Silence.)

 

DUKE SENIOR:

Come, shall we go shoot us venison?

 

FORESTERS:

Yes, my Lord.

(Silence.)

 

DUKE SENIOR:

(Waving negative thoughts away, as he exits.) It irks me the poor dapple fools being native burghers of this desert city should in their own confine with forked head Have their round haunches gored.

 

(DUKE and HUNTERS exit.)

 

(Silence.)

 

JAQUES:

(Thinking of the deer that has been felled earlier.) Poor deer, thou makest a testament as worldlings do, giving thy sum of more to that which had too much.

 

(ROSALIND enters as a man, as if from a dream.)

 

ROSALIND:

They say you are a melancholy fellow.

 

JAQUES:

I am so.  I do love it better than laughing.

 

ROSALI ND:

Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows, and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkard.

 

JAQUES:

Why, ‘tis good to be sad and say nothing.

 

ROSALIND:

Why then, ‘is good to be a post.

 

JAQUES:

‘Tis a melancholy of mine own, composed of many simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplations of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.

 

(Pause.)

 

ROSALIND:

Have you perpended tranquil canals in soft-hued Venice?

 

JAQUES:

Death.

 

ROSALIND:

The stately Nile on her course from south to north?

 

JAQUES:

Styx.

 

ROSALIND:

Woulds’t swim through the threadlike Hellespont?

 

JAQUES:

Drown.

(Silence.)

 

JAQUES:

Did’st not see the years wane, or calculate the height of waves.  Yet plagues I’ve seen . . . a pestilence so powerful that it attacked robust and vigorous strength–the way dry or oil close to fire will catch aflame.  Was’t living among the dead but dids’t not recognize it . . .  Just from the touching the clothes of those of the sick or anything felt or used by them.

 

ROSALIND:

(To herself.) Must pray harder think I often, if knowest how to.

 

JAQUES:

Fear filled us so complete that no one cared about the other.   Dost thou know what it’s like to in terror quake?—no, thou are still too young.  Brother abandoning brother, uncle abandoning  nephew, sister left brother and very often wife abandoning husband, and—even worse, almost unbelievable—father and mother neglecting to tend and care for their children, as if they were not their own.

 

ROSALIND:

You have great reason to be sad.

 

JAQUES:

Yes, I have gain’d my experience, boy.

 

ROSALIND:

I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men’s; then to have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

 

JAQUES:

I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician’s, which is fantastical; nor the courtier’s, which is proud; nor the soldier’s, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer’s which is politic; nor the lad’s which is nice; nor the lover’s, which is all these.

 

(ROSALIND has exited; TOUCHSTONE enters.)

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Come apace, good Audrey; I will fetch up our goats, Audrey.  And how, Audrey, am I the man yet?  Doth my simple feature content you?

 

JAQUES:

Shh, shh.  The jig-maker.  It is him.   (Jaques believes that Rosalind is still nearby.)

 

AUDREY:

Your features! Lord warrant us! What features!

 

TOUCHSTONE:

I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths.

 

JAQUES:

(Aside.) O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched house!

 

TOUCHSTONE:

When a man’s verses cannot be understood, nor a man’s good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.

 

AUDREY:

I do not know what ‘poetical’ is: is it honest in deed and word? Is it a true thing?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign.

 

AUDREY:

Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign.

 

AUDREY:

Would you not have me honest?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar.

 

JAQUES:

(Aside.) A material fool!

 

AUDREY:

Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish.

 

AUDREY:

I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness!  Sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in this place
of the forest and to couple us.

 

JAQUES:

(Aside.) I would fain see this meeting.

 

AUDREY:

Well, the gods give us joy!

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts.

 

JAQUES:

(Aside.) I must have liberty withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please, for so fools have.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

But what though? Courage!

 

JAQUES:

They that are most galled with my folly.  They most must laugh.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said, ‘many a man knows no end of
his goods:’ right; many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them.

 

JAQUES:

He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart,

Not to seem senseless of the bob.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Well, that is the dowry of his wife; ’tis none of his own getting. Horns?
Even so.

 

JAQUES:

If not, The wise man’s folly is anatomized

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Poor men alone?

 

JAQUES:

Even by the squand’ring glances of the fool.  Invest me in my motley.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

No, no; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man
therefore blessed?

 

JAQUES:

By how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

No: as a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a
married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; Here comes Sir Oliver.

 

JAQUES:

Doth pride not flow as hugely as the sea Till that the wearer’s very means do ebb?

(SIR OLIVER MARTEXTenters.)

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met:

 

JAQUES:

(Aside.)What woman in the city do I name When that I say the city-woman bears

The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?  Who can come in and say that I mean her. . . .

 

TOUCHSTONE:

(To Martext.) Will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to

your chapel?

 

JAQUES:

When such a one as she such is her neighbor? Or what is he of basest function That savest his bravery is not on my cost, Thinking that I mean him—But therein suits his folly to the mettle of my speech?

 

SIR OLIVER MARTEXT:

Is there none here to give the woman?

 

JAQUES:

Then he hath wron’d himself; if he will be free.

 

SIR OLIVER MARTEXT:

There then!  How then?  What then?  Let me see where in

My tongues hath wrong’d him: if it do him right

 

TOUCHSTONE:

I will not take her on gift of any man.

 

SIR OLIVER MARTEXT:

Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful.

 

JAQUES:

(Advancing.)  Proceed, proceed I’ll give her.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Good even, good Master What-ye-call’t: how do you,  sir? You are very well met: God ‘ild you for your last company: I am very glad to see you: even a
toy in hand here, sir: nay, pray be covered.

 

JAQUES:

Will you be married, motley?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling.

 

JAQUES:

And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush like a beggar? Methinks you’re more than that.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

(Aside, but AUDREY overhears.) I am not in the mind but I were better to be
married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife.

 

JAQUES:

Dost not intend to stay?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home I was in a better place.

 

JAQUES:

This fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will
prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, warp.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

By my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for.

 

JAQUES:

Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

‘Come, sweet Audrey: We must be married, or we must live in bawdry.
Farewell, good Master Oliver: not,– O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver,
Leave me not behind thee: but,– Wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee.

(Exit AUDREY.)

 

SIR OLIVER MARTEXT:

‘Tis no matter: ne’er a fantastical knave of them
all shall flout me out of my calling.

(MARTEXT exits.)

 

JAQUES:

Brazen enough to wear motley among bumpkins?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

My weeds, sir.

 

JAQUES:

Think they wouldst not suspect thine purpose?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

To be married.

 

JAQUES:

Wilt see the duke again?

 

(Silence.)

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Doth thou know him?

 

JAQUES:

What wilt thou tell him of a rustic’s life?

 

 

TOUCHSTONE:

If thou never wast at court thou never saw’st good manners; if thou never saw’st good manners, than thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation.  Thou art in a parlous state.

 

JAQUES:

Why wouldst examine?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

It is a good life, in respect of itself; but in respect that it is a shepard’s life, it is nought.  In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life.

 

JAQUES:

Must be companion to others from the court.

 

(Silence.)

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Come Audrey, let us make an honorable retreat.

 

(But AUDREY is gone.)

 

JAQUES:

Are you not solitary?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Single, to this day.

 

JAQUES:

A base, countryman and wife.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Am here to wed.

 

JAQUES:

Courtiers in disguise.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Wouldst not presume–

 

JAQUES:

Methinks you know something more.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Nothing, Sir.

 

JAQUES:

Know thou the look of informants?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

I’m looking for naught.

 

JAQUES:

What does the Duke want?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

I know not.

 

JAQUES:

Hey, fool?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

He wants his duchy peaceable.

 

JAQUES:

You know then.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

What else could he want?

 

JAQUES:

More!

 

TOUCHSTONE:

I know not more, I tell thee.

 

JAQUES:

Hast betrayed thyself.

 

(Jaques attacks Touchstone, tearing off his clothes.)

 

TOUCHSTONE:

No, sirrah.

 

JAQUES:

Live to be watched, not live to be free. Canst not tell woman from man?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Thinkest so, Lord.

 

JAQUES:

Think we’re daft?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Players is all.

 

JAQUES:

Spies.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Conceit in lusting spring.

 

JAQUES:

Shalt show thine major-domo?

 

TOUCHSTONE:

Nothing is wrongly done.

 

JAQUES:

Give me thine garb.

 

TOUCHSTONE:

We’re travellers.  Travelers– young.

 

JAQUES:

Then thou shalt know the cost.

 

(Touchstone has been stripped naked, exhausted.)

 

(JAQUES flees with the clown’s clothes.)

 

(END OF SCENE)

(“Travelers”: (c) Copyright 2016  by Bob Shuman.  All rights reserved. This free adaptation of As You Like It includes material from Shakespeare and Boccaccio’s Decameron.

(c) 2016, 2020 by Bob Shuman.  All rights reserved.

HAROLD PINTER: FORGOTTEN SKETCH REDISCOVERED—READ HERE NOW! · Oct 25th

(Pinter’s short play and Mark Brown’s article appeared in the Guardian, 10/24.)

It was part of a 1960 revue at the Nottingham Playhouse called You, Me and the Gatepost, performed for one night only, and then promptly forgotten.

But the sketch, written by a 29-year-old Harold Pinter and lost for more than half a century, has re-emerged as a result of some diligent detective work and is published by the Guardian for the first time and in full.

The sketch, set on the sunbathed terrace of a large hotel and called Umbrellas, is very Pinter, and if there was any doubt who the author was, then the 12 designated pauses are something of a giveaway.

Pinter's widow, Lady Antonia Fraser, said she had been "completely unaware" of the existence of Umbrellas. "It's fun. We've all been quarrelling over acting it in the family. I want to act B, which is the better part, but so far I've only managed to act A, so we're waiting for some really good actors to do it."

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2011/oct/24/harold-pinter-sketch-umbrella

ONE ACT: ‘DANCING WITH JOY’ (A BODONI COUNTY FABLE) BY FRANK GAGLIANO · Aug 3rd

(Frank Gagliano’s DANCING WITH JOY is included in FROM THE BODONI COUNTY SONGBOOK ANTHOLOGY, a 21st Century combination of Our Town, Spoon River, and Jacques Brel on acid.  It was first developed at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre Center’s Musical Theatre Conference, then at the Vineyard Theatre’s Musical Workshop in New York, and then, by a Workshop in Pittsburgh.)

 

OVERVIEW

 "DANCING WITH JOY."A BODONI COUNTY FABLE. As told by yours truly, Jonathan Overview—with the help of Eubie Copocolo, Joy, Old Matilda Trimble and The Bikini Poster Girl. In which Eubie meets Joy and, together, they step into a travel poster, make love on a travel poster beech, and look for Joy’s fabled Island of Despair.

 

(JONATHAN clips on a garish bow tie

as EUBIE, wearing an even more garish bow tie,

enters, riding a small unicycle that is trailing tin cans)

 

Eubie Copocolo always wears a bow tie. And Eubie Copocolo has

the most zits of any 23-year-old that ever lived in Bodoni County. In addition—and Eubie will tell this to anyone who will listen—

 

EUBIE

                            (Untying the tine cans with great difficulty)

I was kind of old before one of my testicles descended. But I took shots for that. And it was just a matter of time before my twin jewel stopped playing hide-and-seek and yo-yoed properly; so I didn't sweat that.

                            (Throws the tin cans off stage)

And I was neat! Inside and out! Always neat. And bow ties seemed the neatest. I went to Bodoni County Junior College for a year.

                            (ENSEMBLE run out  and steal EUBIE's unicycle.

                            EUBIE shrugs)

But nobody there wore a bow tie. So College wasn't for me.

        

                                                        OVERVIEW

What was for Eubie Copocolo?

 

                                                        EUBIE

                            (He walks in circles)

Travel to far off romantic places. Because, in truth, I have a turbulent, romantic soul. Seething.  Full of angst-agony; excessive passion; exotic longings—all that.

                            (Stops walking in circles)

But fat chance I had of realizing my exotic angst-potential in Bodoni County. In Bodoni County I was "that neat nerd"—and in Bodoni County I would always be "that neat nerd."

                            (ENSEMBLE runs out. One kneels

                            behind EUBIE and taps him on the shoulder;

                            the other gets in front of EUBIE and

                            pushes him over the kneeling EMSEMBLE member

                            From the floor, EUBIE shrugs)

 

EUBIE

                            (Continued)

So one day I said to myself: "Eubie, you're waltzing out of this burg."

 

                            (EUBIE rises with great and clumsy difficulty)

 

OVERVIEW

He meant that metaphorically, of course. For when he did try to dance, Eubie resembled an arthritic duck with a double hernia, and an inner ear problem.

        

EUBIE

So I pack, check out of the YMCA—and if you don't think living at the Y isn't a zits enhancer, you don't know our young Christian men! Then I say goodbye to the only person who ever cared for me, Old Matilda Trimble, the head of the orphanage.

                                    

                            (OLD MATILDA TRIMBLE enters.

                            Wearing a bow tie)

She cries a little and says,

 

MATILDA

Oh, Eubie, life sucks!

 

OVERVIEW

Then she straightens her wig, and gives Eubie a new bow tie.

 

MATILDA

Here's a new bow tie; special for my Eubie.

 

                            (OLD MATILDA TRIMBLE removes the bow tie

                            EUBIE is wearing and replaces it with

                            the special bow tie and exits)

 

EUBIE

And it is a big one—neat of course—with red dots!

                            (He walks in circles)

Then I walk all the way down to the Greyhound and buy a one-way ticket to Corning, New York! Because I love glass.

         EUBIE

                            (Continued)                 

                            (Takes out colored marbles from

                            his pocket and plays with them on the floor)

Hear they have the best glass; plan to get a job as a Night Watchman at the Corning Glass Museum; and, for the rest of my life,

                                    

                            (Holds colored marbles to his eye)

I'd look at my world through the prettiest colors!

 

                            (Puts marbles away as

                            the ENSEMBLE run out and become

                             a bus)

 

                                               OVERVIEW

But when Eubie gets right up to the bus—

 

                                               EUBIE

I put a foot up and I can't put it down! On the step!

                            (The bus retreats)

I keep trying!

                            (The bus knocks him backwards)

And falling backwards! And everyone laughs!

                            (The bus become people who

                            laugh at EUBIE without making a sound;

                            and mouth what EUBIE says)

And says stuff like, "Is that a new nerd dance?" And those in the bus get ticky!

                            (Those on the bus get ticky)

Because they want the bus to go!

 

                                               OVERVIEW

And those waiting behind Eubie get even tickier and begin to punch him and kick him and pull at his "special" bow tie!

 

         (They punch him and kick him and pull his "special" bow tie

         —let it snap back hard at his Adams apple)

                                              

                                               EUBIE

So I say, what the hell! I'll hitch out of town. But when I get to the outskirts I still can't leave! Something stops me again,

 

                            (The Bus ENSEMBLE become a wall)

 

Some kind of a wall or something! And I keep throwing myself forward; but I keep —bouncing! —Back!  To the Bodoni County line!

 

                            (EUBIE throws himself against the human wall

                            and keeps bouncing off them)

                                              

OVERVIEW

So Eubie gets the message. No escape.

                            (The ENSEMBLE EXIT. FAST!)

Some hidden power does not want Eubie Copocolo to leave Bodoni County. And it's back to old Matilda Trimble,

                            (MATILDA TRIMBLE enters)

who cries, says it is God's will,

 

MATILDA

                            (Through tears)

—and God's will often sucks, Eubie.

 

OVERVIEW

Then she straightens out the "special" bow tie she had given him

                            (She does; then EXITS)

and let's him stay in an empty basement room of the orphanage.

 

EUBIE

                            (Fetal position, sucking thumb, ETC.)

What to do?

 

OVERVIEW

Agonizes Eubie.

                            (A member of the ENSEMBLE

                            becomes a newspaper boy, delivers a

                            paper to EUBIE and waits while

                             EUBIE reads)

 

Then he sees this ad that says:

                           

(EUBIE mouths, while OVERVIEW recites)

 "Night watchman wanted. Prestigious building. Featuring The Bodoni County Travel Agency. Perfect for someone who wants 'night's cloak' to hide him."

 

EUBIE

Just the job for me!

                            (Hands the newspaper back

                            to the Newspaper Boy, who quickly EXITS;

                            as EUBIE walks in circles)

So I straightaway apply for the job and get it!

 

OVERVIEW

So Eubie night watches and takes to staring at all the travel posters.

                            (OVERVIEW hands Eubie a flashlight

                            as the LIGHTS GO TO BLACK and  EUBIE

                            switches on the flashlight and pans the audience)

                                              

OVERVIEW

                            (Continued)

And then one night Joy comes into Eubie Copocolo's life. 

 

JOY

You there, sir! With the zits and the bow tie? Kindly let me in.

 

EUBIE

                            (Catching JOY in the light of his flashlight)

She's tapping on the outside window in a friendly and smiley way.

                            (Lights increase)

And when I see her. . . my yo-yo's really bounce. She's cute and all; but, mostly, I love her because she's neat. She even wears a little bow tie on her prim blouse. I don't worry if she's a terrorist or anything. I just know that I have to find out who she is. So I let her in.

 

                            (Lights increase to romantic level)

JOY

My name is Joy. Say,

 

OVERVIEW

Says Joy, joyously,

 

JOY

                            (Joyously)

Aren't you that nerd, Eubie?

 

EUBIE

Yes.

 

JOY

                            (Joyously)

I thought so!

                            (Seriously

—Say do you know the Winona Street Witch—Carmelita Strega? Well, she told me about this certain poster. Beach scene. If it has the serial number 262 49 32, it's a poster you can walk into. I've been looking all over town for that poster.  Then I saw it here.  Just now. As I was passing.  God, I hope this is the walk-in poster!

                            (TWO MEMBERS of the ENSEMBLE

                            enter carrying an empty poster frame.

                            The POSTER ENSEMBLE will move the

                            empty poster frame as needed in the scene)

 

JOY

                            (Continued)

 Can I get more light in here?

 

EUBIE

This late? Better not—but you can use my flashlight.

 

                                              

OVERVIEW

And when Eubie gives her his flashlight, he feels. . . peculiar, somehow. Intimate, as Joy fingers his flashlight—and examines the poster.    

 

EUBIE

Listen, Joy. . .do you think you could love a man with zits? —and a neat bow tie?

 

JOY

Sure,

 

OVERVIEW

Says Joy, —who is having a tough time making out the smudged serial number on the poster.

 

JOY

As long as he had a turbulent, romantic soul. Seething. Full of angst-agony. Excessiove passion. Exotic longings—all that.

 

EUBIE

Why, Joy! That is a verbatim transcript of my own inner assessment of myself!

 

JOY

Eubie, can you tell if that's a five or a six?

 

EUBIE

A six. Listen, Joy; this is important:  . . .Why do you need to walk into the poster?

 

JOY

Because I can't get on busses. I keep falling backwards. And I've got to get out of Bodoni County!

 

 

EUBIE

Why, Joy! That's a verbatim transcript of my existential quandary! But, tell me, Joy—and this is really important—does your wanting to leave Bodoni County have anything to do with—colored glass?

 

 

JOY

No. It has to do with the blues.

                           

                            (LIGHT CHANGES TO BLUES LIGHTING,

                            and follow spot catches Joy, Stage Center))       

 

JOY

                            (Continued)

—Eubie, I'm a born chanteuse. I sit on pianos and sing the blues. The only place I can chanteuse at in this town is "The Beer Belly." Yucko! There's a customer—every night? —when I'm lost in the smoky lyrics of a blues number? —this joker sucks on my ankle—right through my panty hose! Yucko ditto! —Listen Eubie—I can see your seething soul right through your bloodshot eyes, so I can tell you about it: I once saw this travel poster. Luxury cruiser. Nightclub aboard it. Gorgeous chanteuse with gorgeous gown, slinky black, with a crimson dragon made of crimson sequins—slit up the side. Tall, gentlemanly Gentlemen, stand around in tuxedos and sip martinis and champagne, and try to keep their erotic thoughts secret—though their eyes, focused on the chanteuse—like yours are focused on moi—reveal their simmering smolder. And it's all in glossy color and the chanteuse is caught in the moment of revealing an angst-spasm and—Oh, look, Eubie!

                           

(BLUES LIGHTING OUT AND BACK TO

                            NORMAL LIGHTING AS JOY MOVES

                            TO THE POSTER FRAME AGAIN)

 

That last number is a 32! This is the poster! 262 49 32!

 

OVERVIEW

And she practically rips off her clothes! Down to her delicate see-through undies! And Eubie is speechless!

                            (A MEMBER of the ENSEMBLE runs out

                            with an overnight bag; hands it to JOY,

                            then exits)                    

And Joy pulls from an overnight bag—and puts on—a crimson-dragon, black, slit-up-the-side, gown—identical to the one she described.

 

                                              

 

JOY

                            (Dressing)

Listen, Eubie; Carmelita Strega said there's a graveyard of dead poster scenes on an island called. . ."Despair." My chanteuse poster is in that graveyard, on that island. But to get there you first have to enter a current poster, with this number and—There! Now I'm ready. See you Eubie—and thanks for letting me in here.

 

                            (JOY climbs into the empty poster frame)

                                    

OVERVIEW

She is already into the poster and on the beach when Eubie's instinct says,

 

EUBIE

Joy! Wait! I'm coming, too!

 

OVERVIEW

And he dives into the poster after Joy!

 

                            (EUBIE dives through the empty poster frame,

                            as the POSTER ENSEMBLE exit with the frame

                           

                            Beach lighting)

 

                                                      OVERVIEW

                            (Continued)

A beach! White, white sand! Lots of blue sky. A mountain in the background. A beautiful woman running down the beach. Very tanned. Enormous breasts. Wearing a white bikini. Her top is in the shape of a slim bow tie.

                            (BIKINI GIRL ENTERS;

                            running in place. Her top, indeed, is in the

                            shape of a slim bow tie.)

She is running at the water's edge; kicking some blue-green splash about. Waving. Eubie takes Joy's hand and they run in the splash alongside the woman.

 

JOY

Say, how did you get that great tan?

 

BIKINI GIRL

Always had it. Always will. It's my poster tan.

 

EUBIE

You seem so happy and excited. —I know! You're running and waving to a lover! Down the beach.

 

BIKINI GIRL

No. There's no lover. I'm just running. And waving. That's what I do. Run.

And wave. I'm a poster Bikini girl, with a poster tan, and all I do is run! And wave.

 

EUBIE

How come there are so few people on this beach?

 

BIKINI GIRL

There are always few people on a beach in poster land!

 

                            (BIKINI GIRL and JOY Exit)                                

 

OVERVIEW

Then she's gone. And so is Joy! And Eubie panics!

 

EUBIE

Joy! Joy! Where are you?

 

OVERVIEW

Off poster, Joy shouts—!

 

JOY

                            (Off stage)

Here, Eubie! Off poster! —Turn left at the last palm tree in the foreground!

 

OVERVIEW

Which Eubie does and—LO! —Suddenly everything is black, shiny black! The ground is a shiny black dance floor with silver sparkles flashing in it, and shafts of spotlights that hit and circle the floor. And there is a fanfare and Joy is in a hot shaft of light and opens her arms and says:

 

                            (Lighting—like OVERVIEW just said)

 

JOY

Eubie! I think we're in a limbo area between posters. And I'm sure we're meant to dance here. Yes, Eubie! Let's dance!

 

EUBIE

But I can't dance!

 

JOY

You must, Eubie! One must dance in this place. That's clear. But I can't dance by myself, Eubie.

 

OVERVIEW

God, Eubie is depressed. But then a wonderful thing happens! Eubie hears from inside his soul, the voice of dear friend, Old Matilda Trimble:

 

OLD MATILDA TRIMBLE

                            (Voice amplified)

The bow tie, Eubie—the one I gave you? Rub it!

 

OVERVIEW

And Eubie does and —LO!—his shoes grow pointy and tap heavy. He glides over to Joy, takes her in his arms and —LO! Again— they are Fred and Ginger! Gene and Vera Ellen! Pricilla Presley and anybody! —And first they waltz. Then they do the Peabody. Then it's a seamless transition to all the different ballroom dances that ever were. The Tango.  . . . The Rumba.  . . .The Samba.  . . .The Foxtrot.  . . . the Limbo. . . —all of 'em!

 

                            (They do them all!)      

 

JOY

Poster coming up!

 

OVERVIEW

And this time it's a small island full of coconuts. From her overnight bag Joy takes out a little hammer and spike and taps holes in a coconut.

                            (JOY does all this)

Then she takes two straws out of the bag.

                            (JOY does this)

Then, like the boy and girl in Our Town, they sip coconut juice and make goo goo eyes at each other.

 

JOY

I feel a chanteuse inspired blues lyric coming on:

 

                                     (SINGS OR RECITES LYRICS))   

TIDES ROLL IN.

TIDES ROLL OUT.

AND MY LOVE AFFAIRS DO THE SAME.

WHY IS IT THAT NONE OF THEM LAST?

ARE MY LOVERS AT FAULT? OR AM I TO BLAME?

MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE I KEEP LOOKING FOR THAT FIRST ONE,

ON THE BEACH WHERE I PAID LOVE'S DUES.

PERHAPS I KEEP ON WANTING THE EXTRAORDINARY PLEASURE

OF FIRST-LOVE'S SAND DUNE BLUES.

JOY

                            (Continued)

SAND DUNE BLUES,

FIRST LOVE IN ITS RERUNS.

SAND DUNE BLUES,

HOT SAND ON MY HOT BUNS.

         MEMORABLE DAY.

         WE WENT ALL THE WAY!

                   SAND DUNE BLUES;

                   SAND DUNE BLUES.

 

SAND DUNE BLUES,

THE GLOW FROM CAMP FIRE'S EMBER.

SAND DUNE BLUES,

THE LOG THAT WAS HIS MEMBER.

         MEMORABLE DAY,

         WE WENT ALL THE WAY.

                   SAND DUNE BLUES.

                   SAND DUNE BLUES.

    

                            BUT IF IT WAS SUCH A MAJOR EVENT,

                            WHY CAN'T I RECALL MY FIRST-LOVE'S FACE?

                                     (Discovery)

                            PERHAPS MUCH OF THE TIME I WAS SITTING ON IT?

                            AH, YES—KNOWING ME, THAT WAS THE CASE!

 

SAND DUNE BLUES—SWEET PAIN OF FIRST DESIRE!

SAND DUNE BLUES—GETTING OFF FIVE TIMES

IN A FIVE-ALARM DESIRE FIRE!

        

                   MEMORABLE DAY.

                   MEMORABLE LAY!

                   SAND DUNE BLUES. . .

                   SAND DUNE BLUES. . .

        

OVERVIEW

And then, of course, they make love. And Eubie's world is a kaleidoscope of colors and colored prisms. 

                            (Love and prisms and ETC. happen)

Then, when it all settles back to glossy poster color, Joy says,

 

JOY

Say Eubie, that was really unique—wearing a bow tie through it all! But now it's time to go!

EUBIE

But, I don't want to leave here. Not now. Not ever.

 

JOY

Ah, that's sweet, Eubie. But, I know who I am and where I belong. And I belong on my Chanteuse Poster.

 

EUBIE

But I don't know who I am; or where I belong. I don't know my essence.

 

JOY

I'm all dressed now Eubie and need to high step it off to the Island of "Despair." Coming?

 

                            (JOY tap dances around)

        

OVERVIEW

And Joy tap-dances away off the poster.

                            (EUBIE follows)

And Eubie follows onto the black dance floor. And they tap on down the great black way.

 

JOY

Island ahead!

 

OVERVIEW

And there is nothing on the Island but pole structures that look like crucifixes. And crumpled up old posters all over the ground. And Joy pokes around and miraculously, immediately, finds the chanteuse poster. 

 

                            (The POSTER ENSEMBLE enter with

                            an empty frame)

 

JOY

Eubie, help me put it up.

 

OVERVIEW

And Eubie does. And it is wrinkled and faded; but it is clearly the chanteuse poster. 

 

JOY

Now kiss me goodbye, Eubie.

 

                                              

 

OVERVIEW

So Eubie kisses Joy .

                           

                            (The POSTER ENSEMBLE frame her

                            in the empty poster frame)

 

And she moves into the poster and—LO!—She slips into the figure of the chanteuse on the piano and she is caught forever, arms shooting over her head, in the high-angst moment of the blues! And Eubie is depressed and his feet start to tap dance away.

 

EUBIE

To where? Back to Bodoni County?

 

OVERVIEW

Then—LO!—Eubie hears Old Matilda Trimble's voice saying,

 

OLD MATILDA TRIMBLE

                            (Voice amplified)

Look for the stained glass poster, Eubie.

 

                            (Two more MEMBERS from The ENSEMBLE

                            enter with another empty Poster Frame

                            and lay it on the ground—they move back)                                               

                                    

OVERVIEW

And there it is. At his feet. A faded ripped poster of a stained glass window. And it is of the naked god Mercury.

 

EUBIE

With no zits and the most magnificent yo-yo's that ever were. And there are wings on his heels and a little World War I tin hat on his head and he's dashing through a meteor explosion of reds and blues and greens and magentas and oranges!

 

OVERVIEW

And Eubie's heart idles like a truck, he's so excited;

(The two Poster ENSEMBLE accomplish the following)

and, quickly, he puts up the poster facing the chanteuse poster–and suddenly panics:

 

 

EUBIE

Is this what I really want?

 

OVERVIEW

Then Eubie hears Old Matilda Trimble's voice:

                                              

                                               OLD MATILDA TRIMBLE

                            (Off. Voice Amplified)

It's either this, Eubie; or return to Zitsville. —No, Eubie! There's no choice! And you know it!

 

                                     (The Two Poster Frame ENSEMBLE 

                                     frame EUBIE, opposite JOY's frame)

 

OVERVIEW

So Eubie climbs into the poster and becomes the wingèd God Mercury! And he appears to be dashing toward the chanteuse poster—and will always appear to be dashing that way! And Eubie is finally happy, for he will now look on his Joy, forever and ever—there, on the Island of Despair.

 

                                     (They SING)

                                              

                                              

EUBIE AND JOY

SAND DUNE BLUES.

 

JOY

ESCAPING FROM THE WORLD'S WOES.

 

                                               EUBIE AND JOY

SAND DUNE BLUES.

 

EUBIE

THE FREEDOM OF MY YO-YO'S.

 

                                               EUBIE AND JOY

NEVER A TEAR,

FROM YEAR TO YEAR. . .

SAND DUNE BLUES!

SAND DUNE BLUES!

 

                                               OVERVIEW

And so ends our fable!

 

 

–(c) by Frank Gagliano. Reprinted by permission of the author. All rights reserved.

 

(Frank Gagliano’s work is included in One On One:  The Best Men’s Monologues for the 21st Century from Applause Theatre and Cinema Books.  Visit his Web site: www.gaglianoriff.com.)