A) Give me a cigarette.
B) No.
A) Why?
B) You don't smoke.
A) Kiss me.
B) No.
A) Why?
B) I'm smoking.
A) Smoking is mystical.
"It" has left the stage. A and B look at each other in warm silence; something has been added to the lightness in their eyes.
N.b "She" is a shadow bereft of form, "He" is a whispy cloud whose shape and consistency are determined by the grace of "Her" coldness and breezes. "It" is a memory, an insult, a gleam. Then there's a Hero, a bastard, a twot. Truth and beauty form a silent witness. Hope is on her death bed. Jesus Christ is the Lord.
He: How was your sabbath?
She: I kept it holy.
Truth affirms her claim. He kisses her cheek and bows in front of her with gracious obsequies.
Pause:
Beauty: What about you?
He: I watched the footie. Footie is holy.
She: Yes it is.
Beauty: Football is truth 90 times a minute.
Truth: Football is beautiful.
Twot: What's so clever about a load of millionaires running around chasing a bag of wind? Oi!!
He: Oops sorry. Pissed on you a little. Did it go down the back of your neck?
Twot: Yes it fuckn well did you clumsy tampon!!
He: Good.
Beauty: You bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers...
She: From the seas and the streams.
Twot: Why is it always me who keeps getting pissed on?
She: Who knows?
Twot stomps off.
Twot: We'll see about this!!
They wave their hankies at him.
He: Today is truth or dare day.
She: I'm not playing.
He: It was your idea!
She: I'm too holy still.
He. Honesty is holy!
She: What colour are your knickers isn't a very holy inquisition!
He: All colours of the rainbow is an evasive answer!
She: Can we play truth or dare without any sexual connotation arising?
He: The connotation isn't the only thing arising?
She: What else ?
He: (sarcastically) The moooon!!
Hope coughs softly and groans.
Silence.
Jesus walks past with a fishing rod.
Everyone looks at the moon reflecting at their feet.
She: Don't snow!
He: Why not?
Beauty: It's July.
He: Fair point.
Enter Bastard dragging a mailbag apparently containing a corpse.
A woman screams.
Bastard drags the corpse centre stage, throws a rope over an overhanging beam and hoists the mailbagged corpse aloft where it hangs, swaying gently.
He: Do you have to leave that there?
Bastard: Let it be a reminder to you.
Beauty: What's in it?
She: Twot?
Bastard cackles.
Truth: Tell them.
Bastard: Three guesses?
He: The future.
Beauty: The century's corpse out leant.
She: The malignant and bloated heart of Don Giovanni.
Bastard: Wrong!
He canes the bag with a walking stick and it writhes as though teeming with millions of blind maggots.
Truth: (Angrily) A plague be upon you!!
Bastard: Pah!!
Hope rises from her deathbed, weak and pale. Bastard retreats into the shadows. She hugs the swaying mailbag until the writhing stops.
Hope: Truth will abide with you now. Fare thee well.
Truth looks stern and doubtful.
Twot rushes in screaming and waving a knife. He stabs the mailbag in a frenzy whilst Hope hangs on with the last of her strength. The bag writhes frantically.
Bastard prevents anyone from intervening until a Hero breaks through the melee and tackles the Twot making him drop the knife. Bastard tries to run away but is caught in a fishing net thrown by Jesus Christ.
Dirty silence prevails. Moths Invade the stage, they flutter and crash suicidally.
Hope sinks to her knees and picks up the knife which Twot dropped when tackled by the hero.
Beauty takes the knife from Hope. She approaches the one they call Bastard.
Beauty: What's in the bag.
Bastard: See for yourself!
She: (Grabbing him by the throat) WHO IS IT THOUGH!!?
Bastard: (Choking) Crows...
Twot tries to shout but the Hero stuffs his mouth with a dirty sock.
Beauty and She approach the bag. Beauty slices open the bag from top to bottom. A cascade of black feathers fall out of the bag as Hope slumps to her death and is covered by the shroud of crowskins.
Truth abides. "He"waves his mobile phone light. "She" weeps inconsolably. Beauty arranges the feather deathbed of hope. The Hero is tethering Twot and Bastard back to back. Jesus sets them free. Bastard spits on Hope and Twot takes his knife back.
Tableaux Vivante
He: Give me a cigarette.
She: No.
He: Why not?
She: You don't smoke.
He: Kiss me.
She. No.
He: Why?
She: You're married.
He: Truth or dare?
She: I'm smoking.
He: What colour knickers are you wearing?
She: Have you ever known love?
He: (to truth) Have I?
Truth looks implacable.
He: Yes.
She: All colours of the rainbow.
He: I'm happy now.
"It" has returned, "He" is snowing. Feathers everywhere. Moths.
Jesus Christ: Let go absolutely. Let go and let God.
To be continued
Sent from my iPhone
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