DIARY OF A MADMAN Adapted as a Monodrama by John Monteleone From the short story by Nikolai Gogol CONTACT: e-mail: writing@johnmonteleone.com PO Box 2723 Sag Harbor, NY 11963 IMPORTANT NOTE REGARDING PRODUCTIONS STUDENT CLASS PROJECTS If this is for a student class project you may use this text or sections of it free of charge but I want to know that you're doing it for my resume and would love a video tape of the production, and/or quality rehearsals. PRODUCTIONS OF ANY KIND OR LEVEL You may read and use this text-based script for considering work but if you want to produce my work as a student, amateur or professional production you must purchase scripts from me online and pay royalties per performance. __________________________________ Copyright 1997 by John Monteleone All Rights Reserved Registered with WGAE NOTES: ORIGINAL PRODUCTION: The original production was adapted and performed by John Monteleone and directed by Keith T. Fadelici. The sets and lighting were designed by Tamar Cohn and it was produced by John Monteleone in association with Dowling College and performed at Dowling and again at The Theatre Row Theatre on Theatre Row in New York Ctiy. That production received critical acclaim by The New York Times and Newsday. The video of the production is available through Drama Classics Video and is sold throughout the USA and Canada. I loved performing the piece but felt that it needed to be lengthened to a full evening and written more clearly for the stage, that is, I have extended that earlier version into this longer one with focus on allowing more humor, detail and dramatic movement conducive to live performance to evolve. I felt that it was necessary for a stage performance which must flow, have more dimension and in the case of this particular monodrama, help connect the audience to the central character. This version has been rewritten with much of my own dialogue merged with Gogol’s. I have lengthened certain monologues, shortened others, and written others completely from scratch. I have kept the stage directions to a bare minimum to give some idea of the physical possibilities that can be discovered. PLACE: Unimportant. SET: A small raised platform sits on an angle, askew. It has the feeling of enclosure, as the platforms edges clearly defines the space as confining. There is a single old, wooden, beat chair center stage, a small 14 inch by 14 inch writing table up stage right, and a small cot with a removable mattress and a wire spring to support it stage left, the short end of the cot facing the audience. The rear wall might be red brick, indicating a tenement, or asylum. PROJECTIONS: The dates projected on the rear wall will define the passage of time. I suggest that the actor NOT state the date as he performs the piece, as it can be distracting from the very visible psychological arc taking place in the man himself. ACT ONE THE LIGHTS RISE SLOWLY ON THE MAN, SITTING DEAD CENTER IN THE SMALL, BEAT, WOODEN CHAIR. HE TALKS DIRECTLY TO THE AUDIENCE. OCTOBER 3rd THE MAN SITS, AND LOOKS INTO HIS HAND FOR A LONG TIME. WE CANNOT SEE WHAT'S IN IT. What an amazing thing. A remarkable thing. Want to see? I bet you do. Keep wondering. Keep wanting. HE LAUGHS. They say that a secret revealed, offers health. But a secret concealed could drive you crazy. Know what I mean? HE LAUGHS. LOOKS. Feels wonderful, really--this power. I'll just ignore you for a very long while and play with my... secret. Let you peep into my life of luxury, and promise. LAUGHS. Go on, imagine what's in here (HIS HAND). And the more I deprive you of the secret to this happiness, the more you will make up things to soothe the torment I so willingly, and pleasurably, cast onto you. LAUGHS. Oh all right, I can't do it. I don’t have the heart to torture anyone. HE OPENS HIS HAND WIDE TO THEM. NOTHING! Now they're all saying, "I knew it, I knew it". HE BEGINS TO LOOK AT HIS HAND IN AN IMAGINARY MIRROR. HE LOOKS INTO IT, AND FIXES HIS HAIR. THEN HIS FACE. HE MAKES A FUNNY FACE. OTHER FACES. LAUGHS. BEGINS TO TALK TO HIMSELF. I have a story to tell you. A remarkable story. An extraordinary thing happened today. Yes, a most incredible, marvelous event. Unbelievable really. I had a difficult time believing it myself. And it happened to me!, Something I'll never forget. Would you like to know what it is? I bet you would. LAUGHS HEARTILY. I'll tell you all about it don't worry. Just sit back and Don't be nervous, I'm not insane. I'm not mad. I'm not. I'm fine. Just fine. I feel wonderful. I'm feeling better than I ever have. I do. So relax and enjoy my little story. RELAX. HE LAUGHS. It all began this morning when I got up rather late. When Martha brought my boots, I asked her the time and when she yelled out like the hysteric she is "TEN O'CLOCK STRUCK A LONG TIME AGO AND YOU'RE LATE AGAIN", I Jumped out of bed half asleep, dressed in a hurry and rushed to breakfast. I would have skipped the office altogether, knowing the sour look the Chief of my division would give me. For the longest time now the idiot's been bitching at me: MOCKING MIMICRY. "HOW COME, MY MAN, YOU'RE ALWAYS IN SUCH A MUDDLE? SOMETIMES YOU DART AROUND LIKE A HOUSE ON FIRE, AND GET YOUR WORK IN SUCH A TANGLE THE DEVIL HIMSELF COULDN'T SET IT STRAIT" The viscous old Bastard! That stupid old sickening idiot. He must envy me for sitting in the Director's study and sharpening his pencils for him. That's the only way to explain his constant, whining, mendacious, egomaniacal, neurotic attitude towards me the son of a.... I have a temper, but I'm lovable. Anyway, I wouldn't have gone to the office if not in hopes of seeing the cashier and trying to get just a small advance out off the Jew. What a character he is ooooooohhhhhh, yes, the Last Judgment will come, Apocalypse arrive, people burnt to ashes in the street smoldering like star dust before you'll get a month's pay out of him in advance... HE WON'T GIVE IN. IF YOU WERE A TERRORIST WITH A WEAPON POINTED AT HIS HEAD HE'D BE PATRIOTIC ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE'S MONEY! THE STUPID ASS. HE AND IAGO WOULD MAKE A PAIR IN A TURKISH BATHHOUSE.... you can beg until something bursts inside of you, he won't give in...You know the type. Probably like you. But please sir, my dear mother's ill and we're in dire need of emergency medical treatment. NO! Oh please my good friend, please, put yourself in my place for a moment. IT'S NOT OUR POLICY. She fell in the bathroom and broke her face and must have major reconstructive surgery or she'll die! "BEARS NO SEMBLANCE TO THUS"! "Bears no semblance to thus" what the hell does that mean? Bears no semblance, it's completely insane. "To thus" who does he think he's Shakespeare?! HE'S A GODAMNED CLERK IN A MONKEY SUIT THAT'S ALL HE IS! ANTIGONE'S KING--WHATEVER THE HELL HIS NAME WAS! ARROGANT PIG HEADED NUMSKULL--AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED, ANTIGONE HANGS HERSELF, THE KINGS SON IN DESPAIR KILLS HIMSELF TO BE WITH HER (SHAKESPEARE COPIED THAT ONE I'M SURE) AND THE KING'S WIFE COMMITS SUICIDE OVER THE LOSS OF HER SON... When will these authoritarian imbeciles obsessed with their male penises learn one needs sensitivity, kindness, a good hand. He babbles stupid things like that to defend the fact that he hates himself and his little mindless job and wants to torture me because of it. I'll let it go. HE SEETHES. Even if there's a dire emergency, you can beg until something bursts inside of you, he won't give in... THE SONOFA... MOCKING MIMICRY. "ADVANCE?! THERE'S NO SUCH THING MY MAN, NO SUCH THING. WE WORK A MONTH FOR A MONTH'S PAY HERE -- NO FAVORS. PLEASE, DON'T GIVE ME A SOB STORY, I'M NOT YOUR FATHER, NOR YOUR MOTHER NOR YOUR FRIEND. I AM THE "CASHIER" THE "CASHIER", AND THAT'S THAT." The monstrous, inconsiderate, mindless oaf sits there with his toupee, like a bran muffin sitting on top of his head puffing on that huge cigar--he's latently homosexual that one -- a bigot, a real lazy good for nothing SONOFA.... IT STILL BOTHERS HIM. HE SEETHES. Yet at home his own wife slaps him around everyone knows that. HE LAUGHS HEAVILY. There's no advantage in working in our department. No side benefits. It's not like working, say, for the City Administration or in the Justice Department. There, you may see someone nesting in a corner and scribbling away. He may be wearing a shabby coat and have a snout that you'd want to spit at. SPITS. LAUGHS. WIPES. But then, just take a look at the summer house the bastard rents. And he looks so quiet and sounds so polite, and courteous, and helpful, and concerned: WOULD YOU, BE SO KIND AS TO LEND ME YOUR SHARPENER SO THAT I MAY SHARPEN MY PENCIL, IF YOU PLEASE.... "If you please".... HA! You know he's Macbeth dressed in white, a Neanderthal dressed in a business suit, Iago's Id having an epileptic fit. Richard the Third with a bad case of the hemorrhoids--chronic itch makes him a Crank. He's an academic burocrat--The worst kind the worst -- an idiot who thinks he knows something! I'll let it go. To work in our department carries more prestige. The people of the City Administration have never dreamt of such... cleanliness. We have red mahogany desks and our superiors always address us... politely. Respectfully. If it weren't for the prestige, 'd have left the department a long time ago. Who needs the damn paper-- pushing, pencil--polishing job any jerk who was illiterate could handle with a hangover. Alliterations intended. Anyway, I put on my coat--I bought the rag at a thrift store--it was raining out so I took my umbrella. The streets were deserted except for some prostitutes, a few merchants under umbrellas and homeless people scattered about. As for decent people there was only our kind, the civil--service clerk, squelching along. I saw him at a street corner and as soon as I saw him I said to myself: "You're not on your way to the office. You're after that one trotting ahead over there and it's her legs you're staring at." What a rouge he is. He'll try to pick up anything under a bonnet. Or any other type of garment for that matter. Poor and intelligent. Nothing worse than that. Just looking for a way to soothe his seething nerves... through women, booze, you know. I like him though. He reminds me of myself. I was passing by a store, when a carriage stopped in front of it. I recognized it at once: it belonged to the Director of our Department, himself. Fancy coach, very expensive and, flashy. Taxes paid for it no doubt. But then I thought, he can't possibly need anything here--it must be his... daughter. His daughter! Oh my. Yes. HE GROWS DEEPLY EMBARRASSED. I pressed myself against the wall. The footman opened the carriage door and she fluttered out like a little bird. How she looked around, first right, then left, tilting her neck so that I could see the nape of it.... so long and smooth.... how her eyes and eyebrows passed by me!... Oh God, I'm lost, lost forever. Why did she have to drive out in the pouring rain? Try and deny after that, that women have a passion for clothing. She did not recognize me. Besides, I was trying to hide myself; my coat was quite stained and out of fashion too. I bought it in a thrift shop- -not at all appropriate for her delicate blue eyes. Besides, I look handsome in a suit, not a wasteful jacket like this. It was all I could afford. I needed a haircut too... I looked... disheveled... nothing to display really. I wouldn’t want me if I had seen myself looking like that... That’s why I hid. I felt... When I saw her I... It was like in the middle of that dirty, cold, wet street, Spring came... the air so fresh and clean... it filled my heart with... She... Her dog was too slow to get into the store while the door was open and had to stay in the street. I know this little dog. she's called Madgie. Very cute little... HE TURNS AS IF HEARING SOMEONE CALL TO HIM. I'll be damned. Who's that talking? I turned around and saw two women walking under their umbrellas: one old, the other young and pretty. But they had already passed when I heard again, just next to me: "You ought to be ashamed, Madgie!" What on earth was going On? I saw Madgie and another dog that had been following the two women. The dogs were sniffing at one another. "Maybe I'm drunk"? No. But then, with my own eyes, I saw Madgie forming the words: "I was bow--wow. I was bow--wow--wow!" Very sick. I was surprised to hear her talking. Later, however, when I thought about it, I realized what had happened. As a matter of fact, the world has seen many similar occurrences. Happens all the time. I've heard that, in England, a fish broke surface and uttered a couple of words in such an outrageous language that scholars have been trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about for thirty years--so far in vain. Then I read in the newspapers about two cows who went into a store and asked for a pound of (LIKE A COW) teeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. But I'll confess that I was much more bewildered when Madgie said: "I did write you, Fee Fee. Perhaps Fido didn't give you my letter." Now, I'd be willing to forfeit a month's pay if I've ever heard of a dog that could write! A study should be conducted immediately-- just think that these coy little animals have been loafing around the house for millenniums when in fact, they could hold jobs and contribute a little something to the household besides their morning, late morning, early afternoon, afternoon, evening and bedtime DUTIES--which I have to PICK UP! But they can write. It’s a fact and I know it sounds a little... I was surprised when I heard them talking. I was, taken back... No that’s not it. I was befuddled. Oh who am I kidding, I thought I was going mad! LAUGHS. Ridiculous. Me, mad. There's not a saner man alive. And that's a fact. Oh sure, I'll confess that recently I've been seeing and hearing things that no one else has ever seen or heard before! But that’s because I’m observant. I’m original. I’m open minded. I look at the deeper implications life has to offer... So, I simply saw phenomenon that other people simply pass up because they don’t believe it’s possible. Now that you’re in on the secret don't tell anyone. No, keep it all inside until you BURST. So I thought, "let's follow this little mutt and find out who she is, and what her thoughts really are." I opened my umbrella and followed the ladies. HE FOLLOWS THEM IN A FIGURE EIGHT. THEN THEY MOVE ALL OVER THE PLACE. Oh, could those two talk. Reminded me of my mother. They didn't stop for a second... HE STOPS AND WATCHES THEM. ...except when coming across a pole, you know. Evidently, ladies don’t like to talk while they’re peeing. HE CONTINUES THE JOURNEY. We crossed Pee Street, from there onto to Tradesman Avenue, turned into Carpenter's lane, and finally stopped before a huge building near COOKOO Bridge. HE STOPS. LOOKS UP. I know this house. It's the Zverkov house. What a house. A mansion. A castle, really. Who isn't to be found there. So many important people. And it teems with my fellow civil servants; they sit there on top of one another, like dogs. The ladies went up to the fifth floor. I won't go in now. No. I'll wait here, make a note of the place and... wait for the first... opportunity. OCTOBER 4th HE IS SITTING AT THE SMALL WRITING DESK IN THE VERY CORNER UPSTAGE LEFT. Today is Wednesday and that's why I'm sitting in our Director's Study, in his home. Very plush. Very nice. Completely unnecessary. Ridiculously expensive--neatness is important, opulence is not. Taxes paid for it. We’re helpless, aren’t we. I purposely came in early, settled down and sharpened all the pencils. What fun, really. Oh, I've been through the justification. Yes, I'm free inside, but I simply don't have social liberty-- BALONEY! I'm a slave and I know it. I hate the damned job. Born from the sun, a miracle of the universe to sharpen some corrupt male chauvinist pigs writing implement. If it weren't for her I wouldn't even come here... Never mind. Our Director’s study is crammed with bookcases. Such... erudition, all over the place--cuts an ordinary person off completely; they're all in French or German. And look into his face. What a lot of importance shines in his eyes! He must practice--has a tutor no doubt. I wonder who pays for that?! Nevertheless, I've never heard him utter an unnecessary word. Except perhaps when one hands him some documents, he may ask: SPEAKING TO AN IMAGINARY DIRECTOR PASSING HIM. "How's the weather outside"? It's damp, sir. "OH!" I hope I've been of some help? "I don't like damp weather". Me either--we have a lot in common... THE DIRECTOR HAS PASSED HIM. Well, he's a public figure and has to keep his distance--just in case he might actually feel something human he can STUFF IT. Nevertheless, I feel that he's taken a special liking to me. If only his daughter... AH, Never mind. Never mind... HE GAZES OFF IN A FANTASY. (to himself) Just kidding. She's so... beautiful. Grace like a Summer cloud. A wonder, really. I feel so... Well, I sat down and began reading the paper. The door opened; I thought it was him, and jumped up holding the documents in my hand; but it was her, in person! Right THERE. The way she was dressed! Her dress was white, all white and fluffy, like a swan, and when she looked at me, I swear it was like the sun! She nodded to me and said: "Hasn't Papa been in here?" What a voice! A canary, an absolute Canary. "Ma'am, I was about to say, don't have me put to death. But if you do decide that I must die, let it be by your own aristocratic little hand." But my tongue was in shock and I babbled like an idiot, "No... ma'am". Her glance slid from me to the books and she dropped her handkerchief. HE DIVES FOR IT KNOCKING OVER HIS SMALL DESK AND FALLING FLAT ON HIS FACE. HE CRAWLS ON HIS BELLY TO GRAB THE HANDKERCHIEF, GRASPS IT AND HOLDS IT UP IN AMAZEMENT. What a hanky... Such fine, delicate linen, and amber, sheer amber. It exuded aristocracy. She said: "Thank you", and smiled, but so faintly that her divine lips hardly moved, and then... she left. She just left. I remained seated there. My shin throbbing. After another hour, a footman came in groin first and told me: "You can go home now, the master's gone out. He was telling ME, I could leave. The head clerk. Who the hell is he to tell ME I can leave? The flunky is the one thing I can't stand. A putrid scoundrel with a stench like a skunk’s emission after eating a pound of BEANS. They're always sprawled out in the entrance hall, not bothering to acknowledge my existence with a little nod. Don't you know, you stupid flunky, that I am a civil servant, and that I come from a respectable family? He looked at me like a ape with an abscess, drool coming from his mouth. Realizing it was useless attempting to communicate the simplest idea to him, let alone prove my position in society, I pulled on my overcoat, unaided, since those idiots wouldn't think of helping you, and I left. HE RISES AND EXITS. SITS ON HIS COT. At home, I lay on my bed most of the time. Then I wrote an excellent poem: "Without you one hour crept slowly like a year. "Is my life worth while," I wept, When you are not near?" In the evening, I put on my overcoat and walked over to the Director's house and waited by the gate for a very, very long time, to see whether she wouldn't come out and get into her carriage. HE RISES AND HE WATCHES FOR A VERY LONG MOMENT. But she didn't. NOVEMBER 6th HE STANDS ON THE BED IMITATING HIS DIVISIONAL CHIEF. What's the matter with you, you bumbling idiot. Nothing, sir. What do you mean nothing? Look here, you're over forty. It's time to be a bit wiser. Who do you think you are? I can see what you're up to. Everyone sees what you're up to--you stare at the Director's daughter with your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth drooling like a thirsty Saint Bernard. It's disgusting. Please, don't, sir. Just look at yourself. Look. What are you. Nothing. You're nothing. You haven't a penny to your name. You sharpen pencils for a living. That's the only kind of work you'll ever do. So forget her and keep your mind on realistic goals, like street sweeping and masturbation! How can you even think of such things? HE PUTS ON HIS GLASSES AND STEPS OFF THE BED. The hell with him! Just because he's got a face like a druggist's bottle and that quiff of hair on his bald head all curled and pomaded, and because he holds his head up in the air like that -- like he's got a turd stuck right here, under his potato nose. He keeps it up in the air like that to keep him from falling over because of its humongous size. He thinks he can get away with anything. He's the ugliest monkey I've ever placed my eyes on--he probably has acne on his... GESTURES TO HIS GROIN. I'm all right. I see through his indignation. His self loathing. His posturing buffoonery. He's a coach potato with a mission during the day that's all he is. An anal retentive academic with a fisher the size of a grapefruit that stops his mind from perceiving anything but his infantile quest for power. He's not bald, his hair has grown inward and is tickling his brain to death--and he only started out with a mongoloid's intelligence to begin with--so where does that leave us? He's a baboon with a bow tie. A lizard wearing a ballerina dress--ohhhhhh he infuriates me that ostentatious, calculating rat. I'll let it go. He's envious that's all. Perhaps he's notices the marks of favor bestowed upon me because I attend my work purposefully. It's not the kind of work one does, it's the quality and the dedication and the meaning one puts behind it--you think sharpening pencils can be done by just anyone? Ha! How would he understand? He measures everything by how much, how big, how fast and how long! A lot I care what he says. So he's a Divisional Chief, so what! Let him tattoo it on his forehead or his... weenie... Maybe then some woman will finally give him a lay and he’ll relax. ...So he hangs out his gold watch and chain and has custom made boots! SO WHAT! SO WHAT! I'll let it go. I will. I have to, my ulcer is acting up. LET HIM BE DAMNED! I'D LIKE TO STUFF A PORCUPINE UP HIS ASS... ROLL HIM IN HONEY AND SET HIM OUT IN THE FOREST! USE HIM FOR SHARK BAIT! LOAN HIS FAT CARCASS TO THE CANNIBALS FOR A FEAST BUT WHO'D WANT TO EAT HIM ALL THEY'D GET IS FOOD POISONING! THE... All right now, calm yourself. Take deep breaths. Excuse me for a moment. HE TRIES TO CALM HIMSELF. HE CAN'T. Perhaps he imagines I had a shopkeeper or a tailor or a Divisional Chief, for a father. I'm a gentleman! And I can be promoted too. And I will be one day when someone has the courage to take a peek at my abilities, intelligence and dedication and offer me a position worth my breeding. Then I'll serve this insane world instead of being an amiable slave. I'm only forty--two, an age when one's career is really just beginning. Wait, my friend. I'll go higher than you yet, and God willing, very, very much higher. I'll look upon you as I do an ant! A cock--roaches feces! I'll have a social position beyond your dreams. Then I'll spit on your corpse like it's manure that's become infested with fungus. I'll let it go. Oh, I've got to calm down before I get myself sick... HE CALLS OUT. MARTHA? MARTHA? Where the hell is that woman? TO THE IMAGINARY DIVISIONAL CHIEF. DO YOU IMAGINE YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE TO HAVE DIGNITY?! GIVE ME A FASHIONABLE NEW COAT, LET ME WEAR A TIE LIKE YOURS, AND YOU WON'T BE WORTHY TO SHINE MY SHOES. YOU SELF--SERVING BASTARD! YOU POLITICIAN! YOU BREATHING CANCEROUS TESTICLE! HE GRABS HIS SHOES UP AND REALIZES WHAT HE'S DONE. HE JUST LOOKS AT HIS SHOES. My lack of means--that's the only trouble. PAUSE. My lack of means. LIGHTS FADE OUT AS HE REMAINS HOLDING UP HIS SHOES. NOVEMBER 8th HE IS SITTING AT HIS WRITING DESK. Today, I went in extra early--thought I might catch Sophie before she left for the University. And I was lucky! There I was, sitting at my desk, and she walked through unaware that I was in the room. I said: "good morning Sofia". She stopped in her tracks. "Good morning, Sofia. You look radiant today mam, If I may say so. I have a few moments before I indulge myself in the important tasks of the day--would you perhaps like to sit and talk?" She looked at me and... smiled. She smiled, at me. I smiled back. And I swear, it seemed as if she blushed. I'm almost certain of it. At that moment I was about to tell her how I felt. I saw myself fall to my knees, bow at her glorious feet, look up into her deep, blue eyes and say, " I love you more than the wind loves to breeze." But then I thought --"God, that's a stupid line and if someone said that to you you’d probably puke right in her face and rightfully so, or pull out a gun and shoot the idiot--if you’re going to try and be romantic for heavens sake do it right”, so on my knees I began searching the archive of my heart for an appropriate phrase that would turn her smile into an acceptance of marriage... but I took too long YOU IDIOT... and by the time I came back to my senses and looked up at her, she was gone. Like an angel had appeared before me and then vanished. But then all angels eventually do vanish. LAUGHS. STOPS. GAZES AT HER. But I could still see her smiling. Right there. Right in this spot. Smiling at me. Can you see it? Oh my. Yes. HE LAUGHS JOYOUSLY. THEN STOPS ABRUPTLY. I'm not sure now if she smiled, or frowned. Or if I was seeing myself in the mirror across the way. Actually, it seemed to be a smile, but it could have been... Well it doesn’t matter who was smiling... As long as someone was... Damn it, I need new glasses, why do I put these things off?! HE GAZES AT THE SPOT. THE LIGHTS FADE OUT. NOVEMBER 9TH IN THE DARK WE HEAR HIM APPLAUDING LOUDLY. LIGHTS COME UP TO REVEAL HIM SITTING WITH HIS BACK TO THE AUDIENCE. HE SPEAKS TO US WHILE HE WATCHES THE SHOW (WALL). Went to the theater. I love going to the theater. As soon as I get hold of a few thousand dollars, I can't help myself, I go. But civil servants are such swine... you won't catch clods like them going to the theater, not even if they're given free tickets. I’m different. APPLAUDS. “BRAVO.... BRAVO” THE LIGHTS FADE. NOVEMBER 10th HE IS SITTING AT HIS DESK. Today, I sat in the Director's study and sharpened twenty three pencils for him, and four pencils for... her. He likes to have as many pencils to hand as possible. One word, and he uses a new one it seems. It doesn't bother me. It's a job. Ha ha. I hate sharpening his stupid pencils and running his errands. I'm worth more than that. He must be more intelligent though--what else could it be? How else could one have obtained such a high position? Usually he doesn't say much, but I guess he must be weighing everything in that bloated egoistic head of his. How did he get where he is? WHY AM I NOT HIM? I'd like to know what he thinks about--what's cooking up there. I'd like to know where he keeps his money, how he invests it--he must have the secrets to the ages locked away somewhere. I'd like to get a closer look at these people, how they live, with all their subtle innuendoes and courtly jokes. They must get them out of a secret book of some sort. An underground society full of secrets they only teach their children in private rooms, basements dug deep into the earth. Magical places people like me can't go. I often try to engage the Director in conversation But I'll be damned if it's ever come off. I've managed to say: THE IMAGINARY DIRECTOR PASSES HIM. Good morning sir, it's a fine day. THE IMAGINARY DIRECTOR PASSES HIM IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. Sir, If I might have a word with you I have a wonderful idea... THE IMAGINARY DIRECTOR PASSES HIM IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. Long day, you must be tired, let me get you... THE IMAGINARY DIRECTOR PASSES HIM IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE SIR! THE DIRECTOR HAS PASSED HIM. That's absolutely as far as I've got. Maybe I should try a bribe. Or blackmail. Or MURDER. HE LAUGHS. One day I'd like just to step into their drawing room. The door is ajar sometimes and from there I can see another door, leading to another room. That's where I'd really like to go. I'd like to peep into her boudoir, and see all those little jars and bottles of hers standing there amidst the sort of flowers one doesn't even dare breathe on; to have a glimpse at the dress she has thrown off, lying there looking more like air than a dress. It would be wonderful to glance into her bedroom.... Miracles must happen there. It's a paradise. An absolute paradise. What wouldn't I give to see the little stool upon which her delicate foot descends when she gets out of bed and watch how an incredibly fine, immaculate stocking is pulled up her leg.... Oh, the thoughts... never mind... no I mustn't think that way... No NEVER MIND. SILENCE! HE BECOMES THE DIVISIONAL CHIEF ONCE AGAIN. Looking at her little stool, eh? Her stocking? Get down to it, man, you want to see her naked, like everyone else, don't you. Wretched scoundrel you are. A merciless pervert wanting to have royal flesh! You want to lick her vagina? You want to kiss her an enter her with that throbbing penis? You want to... Sit down. I'd rather stand, sir. SIT. HE WATCHES HIMSELF SIT. I have never in my life seen a man with such delusions. You are a clerk. You never graduated high school. You live with your mother and no woman in her right mind will ever find you attractive because you are not attractive. Not physically. Not financially. Certainly not socially. You are not bright though you think you are. Sit down, face yourself, and accept yourself as God made you- -mediocrity’s servant to those like me, who have earned their place in the world. You, on the other hand have drunk your life away, in a pretense of superiority, while all along, you knew you were simply living a lie. Now, back to work, or I will see to it that you are dismissed permanently from you mindless job that is beyond your abilities. Understand, you idiot? Yes sir, I understand you perfectly. You're a jealous bigot with gonorrhea that has destroyed your senses, syphilis that has turned your once, obnoxious self into a demon that would make Lucifer want OUT OF HELL--and you want TO SCREW HIS DAUGHTER! (HIMSELF TALKING TO THE DIVISIONAL CHIEF) IT’S YOU THAT ARE PERVERTED BECAUSE YOU CAN’T SCREW ANYONE WITH A PENIS YOUR SIZE-- IT WOULD FIT INTO MY PENCIL SHARPENER PERHAPS BUT NOTHING LARGER. YOU’RE INSANELY JEALOUS BECAUSE YOU KNOW THAT I HAVE A CHANCE AT OBTAINING HER LOVE AND SO YOU ATTACK ME TO DELUDE YOURSELF OF YOUR DISEASES! PEDAFILE! JACK THE RIPPER! YOU REEK OF PERVERSION THAT’S TURNED TO A FUNGUS YOU BASTARRRRDDD I'LL DARE YOU ABUSE ME IN THIS WAY! IF I WEREN'T AFRAID OF THE DUNGEONS, I'D CUT OFF THAT STINKING HEAD OF YOURS AND MOUNT IT ON A STICK AND EVERYONE WOULD BE FREE OF YOUR MURDEROUS MOUTH! Oh my. Oh my. My head. Oh my head... HE SITS, DIZZY. LOOKS UP FOR A LONG MOMENT. I would never do that it was just a ... GAZES OFF. But today something suddenly became clear to me when I recalled the conversation between the two dogs, I'd overheard on fifth avenue. I must get hold of the letters exchanged between those nasty mutts. I'm sure to find out something. I called Madgie and said to her: Listen Madge... we are alone now. Finally alone. If you wish I'll even lock the door so that no one'll see us. Now I know you're loyal to her. But I will reward you with the biggest bone you could ever imagine if you tell me everything you know about your mistress: what she's like and all that. You know--the nitty gritty little details and such. And, if you do, you'll have nothing to worry about, I swear I'll not repeat a single thing to anyone. HE WATCHES THE IMAGINARY DOG WALK AWAY. You see that. How remarkable. What a corrupt and manipulative politician she is. Brilliant. She'll go far, no doubt. I would have done the same thing. She's testing me, you see. The old walk away trick--gets right down to the basics, and with little rhetoric, places me in a position of desperation. (TO MADGIE) You must be getting your influences from the Divisional Chief you little bitch. HE LAUGHS. For a long time now I've suspected that dogs are much more intelligent than men; I was even certain that they could speak but simply chose not to out of a peculiar stubbornness. Yes, a dog is an extraordinary politician and notices everything, every step a human takes. Well, I'm glad our relationship is beginning to gain a little trust. They've put me in a precarious situation, and so I'll have to play their little game and slip in the back door somehow. I know; tomorrow I'll go to the Zverkov house and question her dear friend Fee Fee and, if possible, I'll lay my hands on Madgie's letters to her. What an idea! Then I'll know everything. HE APPLAUDS HIMSELF, HYSTERICALLY THRILLED. And he called me an idiot! BLACKOUT. NOVEMBER 12th HE IS STANDING UPSTAGE LEFT. HE WALKS AND DOES THE ACTIONS HE DESCRIBES. At 2:00 P.M. I went out determined to find Fee Fee and question her. I had to make my way through Tradesman avenue--the stench pouring into the streets from under every door is unthinkable. Almost as bad as the Divisional Chief after a THREE HOUR BATH. It's quite an unsuitable place for a person of breeding to take a stroll. When I reached the sixth floor, I rang the bell and out came a girl with little freckles and not too bad-looking either. I recognized her at once, she was the one I saw walking with the old woman in the rain. She blushed a little and I immediately saw right through that. She had a crush. I couldn't blame her for that. I had on my best coat. (TO GIRL) What you need, my dear, is a man. I'm taken. I am not sexually hung up as I have a lover that will do anything I want.. What do you want, she asked. As if she didn't know. I want to have a talk with your doggie. PAUSE. The girl was stupid. I knew it before I even told her my desire. At that moment the mutt ran in yapping furiously and as I was trying to grab her, the repulsive creature caught my nose between her teeth... HE MIMES FIGHTING THE DOG ATTACHED TO HIS NOSE. OW OW OW GET HER OFF ME! I succeeded removing the beast from my nose and at that moment saw her desk in the corner which was just what I was looking for. I ran for the desk, but the little bitch was now attached to my leg which made it difficult and I tripped banging my head on the bedpost. But finally I arrived there, fighting FEE FEE now attached to my leg and opened the drawers a bit too harshly, felt under the junk and to my great joy, found a small bundle of papers. HA HA! Seeing what I was doing, the little smart ass took a bite out of my calf--so I kicked her. Then when upon further sniffing she found that I had taken Madgie's letters, she began whining, and pouting, and making up to me like a lost lover attempting to get them back. HE GETS DOWN ON ALL FOURS AND TALKS TO THE INVISIBLE DOG LIKE TALKING TO AN INFANT. But I told her: You behaved barbarically. Like an animal. An unsophisticated beast. Therefore, I shall keep all these letters and if you don't like it you can take it up with a JUDGE! You ... mutt. And off I went back into skunk town. HE STOPS. THINKS. I believe the girl mistook me for a madman--she seemed very frightened indeed. She didn't have to cry like that. Hysterically. Almost yelping--or was that FEE FEE. Never mind it doesn’t matter. I felt badly when I saw her hiding behind the kitchen chair, trembling like a little bunny. I didn't mean to reject her like that... I should have given her a deep wet kiss and a little pinch to her breast, and if things got intense perhaps we could have had sex on the floor, that would have quieted her--but I didn’t have time for that, I wasn’t really in the mood and more importantly I had to get the dogs letters in my possession. Oh well, misunderstandings... LOOKS AT LETTERS. Now finally, I'll find out everything about these intrigues and plots; I'll understand all the little wheels and springs and get to the bottom of the matter. These letters will explain it all. Dogs are a clever race. They know all about intrigue--so it's all bound to be in their letters: all there is to know about the Director's character and actions. And she too is sure to be mentioned. HE GAZES OFF IN ECSTASY. Yes. I would be in heaven if you would remove your clothes for me. One piece at a time. Down to your bare, pure, lovely skin. And I would lick your body from the tip of your toes to the tip of your... Never mind about that... STOP IT. She’s not a slut like FEE FEE’s mistress. She’s a woman of class. Who are you kidding. They all want your ass. HE LAUGHS. THEN WALKS IN CIRCLES. I walked the streets for some time, thinking. I came home toward evening. Most of the time I lay on my bed. I thought that I had treated my women cruelly today. Yes, I should have given them my body as I realize the torture it must be for them to do without it. That’s why FEE FEE was so persistent. But on the other hand, I have to preserve myself for Sofia. When she accepts my proposal, we shall make love so passionately, the world will move under us, around, and around, up and down, like water under us, and the eternal stars above... until we have to finally... HE CHUCKLES. I will find out what secrets lie in these letters first thing in the morning. And after breakfast, decide what actions I will take in securing our marriage. Then, life will be worth living. Oh, thank God for these... Life will be finally worth getting out of bed for. HE LAUGHS AND IT IS FULL OF RELIEF. THEN HE LAYS BACK WITH HIS HANDS BEHIND HIS HEAD ON HIS BED SMILING, LOOKING UP. LIGHTS FADE OUT SLOWLY. END OF ACT ONE ACT TWO NOVEMBER 13th THE LIGHTS RISE ON THE MAN STANDING FACING THE AUDIENCE. HE HAS THE BATCH OF LETTERS IN HIS HAND AND HE SEEMS EXHILARATED, YET FRIGHTENED. AS IF HE KNEW WHAT WERE IN THEM, BUT WANTS THEM TO CONTAIN SOMETHING ELSE. Let's see now. this letter looks quite legible, although there is something definitely canine about the handwriting: DEAR FEE FEE, I STILL FIND IT DIFFICULT TO GET ACCUSTOMED TO THE COMMONNESS OF YOUR NAME. IT DOESN'T FIT YOUR SOPHISTICATION. Sophistication, the damned bitch almost tore my leg off! Should of been named DURK. FEE FEE, LIKE ROSE, IS VERY ORDINARY, BUT ALL THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT. I'M VERY GLAD WE'VE DECIDED TO WRITE TO EACH OTHER. The spelling is very good. It's even punctuated correctly. this is considerably better than say, our Divisional Chief can do, although he claims to have gone to some university or other. HA! He leaves dangling participles all over the place. Let's see further on. I BELIEVE THAT SHARING FEELINGS AND IMPRESSIONS WITH ANOTHER IS ONE OF THE MAIN BLESSINGS IN LIFE... Hmm. The thought is stolen from the great philosopher... his name escapes me now... I SPEAK FROM EXPERIENCE ALTHOUGH I'VE NEVER BEEN MUCH FURTHER THAN THE GATES OF OUR HOUSE. I LOVE MY BATHROOM, FILLED WITH DAFFODILS AND GERANIUMS TO STOOP BEHIND-- PERFUMES OUR DUMPINGS QUITE WELL. A bit "raw" for a dog of your breeding, hmmmmm Madgie? Better learn to keep that tongue in your mouth. MY LIFE IS FULL OF BLESSINGS. MY YOUNG MISTRESS, WHOM HER PAPA CALLS SOFIA, IS CRAZY ABOUT ME. AHA! I told you she'd be mentioned. SHHHHHH. PAPA OFTEN PETS ME TOO. I DRINK TEA AND COFFEE WITH CREAM. I MUST TELL YOU, MY DEAR, THAT I AM NOT IN THE LEAST BIT TEMPTED BY THE HALF--GNAWED BONES WHICH OUR FIDO CHEWS ON IN THE KITCHEN. I ONLY LIKE THE BONES OF GAME AND, EVEN THEN, ONLY IF THE MARROW HASN'T BEEN SUCKED OUT BY SOMEONE ELSE! That's disgusting, really. (TO AUDIENCE) Do you do that? Suck marrow? A MIXTURE OF SAUCES IS NICE AS LONG AS THEY CONTAIN NO CAPERS OR VEGETABLES AS I AM MORE CARNIVORE THAN OMNIVORE AND NEED THE HIGH FAT CONTENT OF MOIST RED MEAT! MY INTESTINES AND COLON ARE APPROPRIATELY SHAPED TO NOT ALLOW FOR TOXINS TO SIT IN THEM AND PUTREFY. I DUMP SEVERAL TIMES DAILY. A bit barbaric for the sweet bitch. Besides, I'm really not interested in her diet, or colon, or what it produces... I hope this isn't the whole subject. I didn’t realize dogs were so anal, I thought that was kept for academics and bureaucrats. WHAT I HATE IS PEOPLE WHO GIVE DOGS THE TABLE SCRAPS THAT AREN'T FULL BODIED. SOME PERSON SITTING AT THE TABLE, WHO HAS PREVIOUSLY TOUCHED ALL SORTS OF FILTHY THINGS, TAKES SOMETHING OFF THEIR SALIVA RIDDEN PLATE, THEN CALLS YOU AND THRUSTS IT INTO YOUR MOUTH. IT IS AWKWARD SOMEHOW TO REFUSE AND, DISGUSTED, YOU EAT IT UP. KNOCK THAT OFF! What's that all about? What rubbish. As though there weren't more interesting things to write about. Let's see the next page. There may be something less stupid. NOW I'LL TELL YOU WHAT GOES ON IN THIS HOUSE. I HAVE MENTIONED THE MAIN CHARACTER, WHOM SOFIA CALLS PAPA... HE'S A VERY STRANGE MAN... At last! I told you. I knew they had shrewd judgment, what ever the subject. Let's see what Papa's like. ... A VERY STRANGE MAN... HE'S USUALLY SILENT, HE SPEAKS VERY LITTLE, BUT A WEEK AGO HE NEVER STOPPED SAYING TO HIMSELF: "WILL I GET IT OR NOT?" ONCE HE EVEN ASKED ME: "WHAT DO YOU THINK, MADGIE, WILL I GET IT OR WON'T I?" I COULDN'T MAKE ANY SENSE OUT OF IT SO I SNIFFED HIS SHOE AND LEFT THE ROOM. THEN, A WEEK LATER, PAPA CAME HOME OVERJOYED. ALL THAT MORNING FORMALLY DRESSED PEOPLE CONGRATULATED HIM. AT DINNER, HE PICKED ME UP AND HELD ME LEVEL WITH HIS CHEST, SAYING: "LOOK MADGIE, WHAT'S THIS?" I SAW SOME SORT OF RIBBON. I SNIFFED IT--ODORLESS. FINALLY, DISCREETLY, I GAVE IT A LICK: SLIGHTLY SALTY. The style is very jerky. You can see that it's not written by a man. She starts off all right and then lapses into... dogginess. Let's see another letter. OH, MY DEAR, HOW STRONGLY I FEEL THE APPROACH OF SPRING. MY HEART BEATS AS THOUGH IT WERE WAITING FOR SOMETHING. IN MY EARS, THERE'S A CONSTANT BUZZ. VERY OFTEN I LISTEN SO INTENTLY BEHIND CLOSED DOORS THAT I RAISE MY FRONT PAW. A peeping tom. Thomasina, I should say. NO... DURK! AND CONFIDENTLY, I HAVE PLENTY OF SUITORS. I OFTEN SIT BY THE WINDOW AND WATCH THEM. IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE SOME OF THEM, THEY'RE SO UGLY. THERE IS A HORRIBLE MONGREL WITH STUPIDITY WRITTEN ALL OVER HIM, WHO SWAGGERS ALONG THE STREET AND IMAGINES HE IS A PERSON OF BREEDING AND THAT EVERYONE IS BOUND TO ADMIRE HIM. I think I've seen the oaf, myself. Pitiful, really how people can delude themselves. AND THE TERRIFYING GREAT DANE WHO JUST STARES THROUGH MY WINDOW WITH HIS TONGUE HANGING OUT AND HIS HUGE EARS FLOPPING ALL OVER THE PLACE--I GROWLED AT HIM BUT IT DIDN'T PUT HIM OFF IN THE LEAST. BUT MY DEAR YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE DASHING YOUNG LOVER THAT CAME JUMPING OVER OUR FENCE... HIS NAME IS TREASURE AND HE HAS A VERY NICE FACE... Ah, damn it all! What rubbish. How much of her letters is she going to be filled with such dribble? I'm after people, not dogs. I need spiritual food, and I am served insignificant dribble. Let's skip a page... see if there's something more interesting. SUDDENLY, THE MANSERVANT CAME IN AND ANNOUNCED A VISITOR. SHOW HIM IN, SOFIA SAID. SHE HUGGED ME HARD AND SAID, "OH MADGIE, DARLING, IF YOU ONLY KNEW WHO THAT IS. HE'S A GUARDS OFFICER, HIS HAIR IS BLACK AND HIS EYES ARE SO DARK AND SO LIGHT AT THE SAME TIME... LIKE FIRE." A guards officer? I'm not impressed, are you? HE ENTERED THE ROOM, WENT TO THE MIRROR AND SMOOTHED HIS HAIR; HE SMOOTHES HIS HAIR. SOFIA REENTERED THE ROOM AND THEY EMBRACED. I'm sure it was just a friendly hug. Probably a friend. Definitely no tongue. YOU CANNOT IMAGINE, FEE FEE, THE SILLINESS OF THAT CONVERSATION. SUCH STUPID STUFF ABOUT A MAN WHO LOOKED LIKE A DORK, AND ABOUT A WOMAN, LIDINA, WHO THOUGHT SHE HAD BLUE EYES WHEN THEY WERE REALLY GREEN, AND SO ON. I SAID TO MYSELF, "THIS OFFICER DOESN'T COMPARE TO TREASURE. HEAVENS, WHAT A DIFFERENCE. TO START WITH, THE OFFICER HAS A WIDE FACE, QUITE BALD EXCEPT FOR HIS SIDE WHISKERS, WHICH IN FACT, LOOK LIKE A BLACK KERCHIEF TIED AROUND HIS HEAD, WHEREAS TREASURE'S FACE IS NARROW AND FINE AND HE HAS A SWEET WHITE PATCH ON HIS BROW. REALLY, A TREMENDOUS DIFFERENCE! I WONDER WHAT SHE SEES IN HER OFFICER. WHAT ON EARTH CAN SHE ADMIRE IN HIM? Yes, here I tend to agree. Something seems wrong. It is quite unbelievable that this officer should have swept her off her feet. Let's see: IF SHE LIKES THE OFFICER, I THINK SHE'LL SOON BE LIKING THE CIVIL SERVICE CLERK WHO SITS IN PAPA'S STUDY. THAT ONE, MY DEAR, IS A REAL SCARECROW. HE LOOKS A BIT LIKE A TURTLE CAUGHT IN A BAG... Which clerk could that be?... HE HAS A FUNNY NAME AND HE'S ALWAYS SITTING SHARPENING PENCILS. THE HAIR ON HIS HEAD IS LIKE STRAW. PAPA SENDS HIM ON ERRANDS LIKE A SERVANT. USUALLY JUST TO GET RID OF HIM SO THE ROOM DOESN’T LOOK LIKE A PEASANTS. HE’S NOT ONLY UGLY, BUT HE THINKS HE’S SOMETHING TO LOOK AT WHICH MAKES IT ALL THE MORE PATHETIC. RUFF RUFF RUFF. The filthy Bitch! Is my hair like straw? I don’t think I’m something to look at. Not really. She didn’t have to say I was pathetic. That wasn’t nice. That was really unnecessary. We were to be married. You know how women are before a marriage... they get nervous and say things they don’t mean to their dashing young grooms. That’s all. See... and for a moment I was... concerned... HE LAUGHS. When I see her next I’ll tell her how I feel, and that in the future, after we’re married, to try and refrain herself from such utterances when she gets upset or nervous. I have feelings. I’m a human being. She can’t fool me because I saw the way she smiled at me. I know that she adores me, she just won’t admit it, that’s all that’s happening here. HE READS. SOFIA CAN HARDLY CONTROL HER LAUGHTER WHEN SHE SEES HIM. HIS HAND TREMBLES AND HE SMILES. THEN SUDDENLY: You wretched, lying, dog! What a filthy, poisonous tongue! This can't be true. These aren’t her letters. They can’t be. WHO PLANTED THEM? OUT WITH IT! WHOOOO?!!! PAUSE. I know who's tricks these are. I recognize the handwriting here, how stupid of me. It's the Divisional Chief. For some Godforsaken reason that man has sworn undying hatred for me and he is trying to harm me, to do me in, every minute of the day and night. He's not getting it from his wife and so he displaces his glandular derangement onto me, in hopes to vent his steam. This is the result of being so damned anally retentive for so many years... GO EJACULATE ON SOMEONE ELSE YOU PERVERT! I'M NOT YOUR PUNCHING BAG, AND I WON'T HAVE THIS DECEPTION RAVAGE MY HEART! I'm all right... I'll be fine in just a moment... excuse me.... HE TRIES TO BREATHE BUT IT’S DIFFICULT. Let's see one more letter. MY DEAR FEE FEE, FORGIVE ME FOR NOT WRITING TO YOU ALL THIS TIME. I'VE BEEN GOING AROUND IN ABSOLUTE ECSTASY. I AGREE, WITHOUT RESERVATION WITH THE PHILOSOPHER THAT SAID “LOVE IS A SECOND LIFE”. MOREOVER, A LOT OF THINGS ARE CHANGING IN OUR HOUSEHOLD. THE OFFICER COMES EVERY DAY NOW. SOPHIE IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH HIM. PAUSE. Who wouldn’t agree to that. Love IS, a second life. Lovely thought really. Love is a second life. Make a good song title. HE LAUGHS. DIGS INTO LETTER. THE OFFICER COMES EVERY DAY NOW. SOPHIE IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH... HIM. WITH... READS IT AGAIN. THE OFFICER COMES EVERY DAY NOW. SOPHIE IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH HIM. I'm sorry, I thought I read it incorrectly. Well, so be it. I'm happy for her. I knew all along I had no chance. I was dreaming. Pretending, that's all. We all do that. We all dream to have the things in life that are farthest from our reach. I don’t see how I can bear this loss. It’s really very painful. (SMILES) I'll find another, there are plenty of fish in the sea. Ha ha ha hah ha! LAUGHS. READS. SOPHIE IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH HIM. Yes, there it is. See? HE HOLDS THE LETTER UP TO THE AUDIENCE. No mistake about it. She wouldn't lie to FEE FEE. No, FEE FEE is too smart a politician and Sophie would know that. There'd be no reason to attempt to mislead her. There's no competition, they are two different species, and FEE FEE couldn't possibly interest the officer, so Sophie's jealousy would be unwarranted. And in fact I heard that Fee Fee is Madgies first litters Godmother and that would be completely unacceptable. No, it's true. It's absolutely true. All right. Calm down. Stay calm... SOPHIE IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH ... IN... LOVE... WITH... HIMMMMMMMMMM!!! (TO HIMSELF) And of course, that implies that she’s not madly in love with YOUUUUUUUUU. See how that works. Him, not you. But think of it this way, You have nothing, not him. See, you’ve gained something through the depletion of all possibility in life. Something he will never have. So, we all have something the other doesn’t. He has her, a career, money, and you have nothing. See, balance of power. And what prevents me from slitting my wrists, taking strychnine, or jumping off the top of the Zverkov House, is the fact that I know it’s a POLITICAL marriage. No love. She couldn’t love anyone but me. I know that. But what can I offer her socially. I’m nothing. My love isn’t nothing but shallow people wouldn’t notice my love-- it’s too deep. See, that’s where she’s making her mistake. IDIOTS. MORONS. STUPID BITCH!!! HE CRACKS UP. READS. Round face, whiskers like a kerchief, bald... I like FEE FEE, she has taste... She could see from the start it's a political marriage... No love no love, vain killer's can't love. Just... PAPA IS VERY GAY. THE WEDDING IS CLOSE AT HAND, BECAUSE PAPA ALWAYS WANTED TO SEE SOPHIE MARRIED TO A HIGH OFFICIAL OR TO AN ARMY OFFICER WITH A BRILLIANT CAREER AHEAD OF HIM.... Well I don't blame him one bit. It's his daughter. He wants her to have the very best in this life. I would. Wouldn't you? So why not sell her off like slave labor. The ass. Can't he see that he's all wrong for her. She needs a man of refinement, sensitivity, well read. Oh, I knew it all along, Papa's a narcissist. He wouldn't care if she married a frog, if he learned he was rich and held a position. He wouldn’t even care if the frog had testicles or not. Noooooo, he isn’t thinking about the real issues... all money money money. PAPA ALWAYS WANTED TO SEE SOPHIE MARRIED TO A HIGH OFFICIAL OR TO AN ARMY OFFICER WITH A BRILLIANT CAREER AHEAD OF HIM.... A BRILLIANT CAREER AHEAD OF HIM.... That's what it said stupid, why are you getting upset over this. Go for a walk. Put the damn letters down. READS. A BRILLIANT CAREER AHEAD OF HIM.... SOPHIE IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH... There it is. A BRILLIANT CAREER... No doubt.. ... IN, LOVE, WITH... HIM! Just checking to be sure... Yes, it's definite. Well, that's enough of these stupid letters. I think I've had enough for a while. I'll return them in the... HE GRABS THEM UP AND SPEED READS THEM, SKIPPING FROM ONE PAGE TO THE NEXT.. WENT TO THE MIRROR AND SMOOTHED HIS HAIR; SOPHIE REENTERED THE ROOM AND THEY EMBRACED. EMBRACED. Is that embraced or embarrassed? SOPHIE REENTERED THE ROOM AND THEY EMBARRASSED. Well, it was written by a dog. Certainly could have been that when Sophie reentered the room she felt embarrassed. It’s embarrassing to enter a room. THAT’S IT. She was embarrassed. How silly of me to get upset over a word. Perhaps you should read the letters again, syllable by syllable, consonant by consonant to be absolutely sure you haven’t misread anything into them. THAT LOVE IS A SECOND LIFE. ...WITH HIM. HAIR IS BLACK EYES ARE DARK LIGHT SAME TIME LIKE FIRE EMBRACED NO. THE WORD IS EMBRACED. EMBRACED HIM AND PAPA IS VERY GAY. A BRILLIANT CAREER... SOPHIE IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH HIMMMMMMM... .... OH HELL! .... I CAN'T GO ON .... THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME. TO ME. She looked at me in the study. She smiled like the sun, and we touched through the silence. She wouldn't do this to me. Oh, hell. ...High officials, senior officers, they get all the best things in this world. You discover a crumb of happiness, you reach out for it and then along comes a high official or an officer and snatches it away. Goddammit!!! I would like so much to become a high official, just so that I could watch them jump around for my benefit; I'd listen for a while to their courtly jokes and innuendoes and then tell them what they could do with themselves. It hurts though. HE BREAKS DOWN COMPLETELY, RUNS TO THE BED, AND TEARS THE LETTERS TO SHREDS. THEN STUFFS THEM VIOLENTLY INTO A PILLOW CASE RAMMING HIS HAND INTO IT. DECEMBER 3rd LIGHTS RISE ON HIM TOSSING AND TURNING IN BED. Impossible! Lies! There can't be a wedding. So what if he has a commission in the Guards. That's nothing but a position. You can't touch it with your hand. A Guard's officer does not have a third eye in the middle of his forehead. His nose is not made of gold, but the same stuff as mine or yours or anyone's for that matter. He uses it to sniff, not to eat, for sneezing, not for coughing. I've often tried to discover where all these differences lie. But I've never found out it seems. Why is that, I wonder? ----------------------------------------------------- TO READ THE REST OF THIS PLAY CONTACT THE PLAYWRIGHT CONTACT INFORMATION IS AT THE TOP OF THIS PAGE. I used to have the full text on the site but too many people used them without paying fair royalties etc. MS Word Fully Formatted version of this play is available for production after payment for scripts and royalties are made. Student Productions can purchase the script.