A group of volatile people with poor impulse control spend time together in a room. Some of them leave the room in order to carry out unusual tasks. On their return their volatility continues unabated. Such is the instability of the occasion that the fabric of the room itself is affected. The florid design recommendations hereunder were elegantly resolved by the placing of a framed image of a number of butterflies in silhouette on a wall of the room. When the collective psychic temperature approached criticality the butterflies would flutter in their frame.
The characters:
Roy
Mary
Victor
Grace
IT IS NOT CLEAR WHO IS MARRIED TO WHOM.
THROUGHOUT THE SHOW, THE ‘FLUTTERING’ OF FURNITURE, FIXTURES & FITTINGS WILL BE INTRODUCED AT VARIOUS INTENSITIES AT VARIOUS TIMES. (THIS WILL BE THE SUBJECT OF INITIAL DESIGN DISCUSSIONS)
ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE DISCOVERED ON STAGE.
ROY (HAVING NOT ENTERED) I’m back.
MARY Poppet.
VICTOR I am too.
GRACE Cuddlesome.
ROY There is the most cutting person I have met today.
VICTOR Did you brace him?
GRACE Victor!
VICTOR It’s gangland.
MARY Victor – are you in gangs?
GRACE He uses their terminology.
ROY I understood him.
VICTOR Gangs!
THEY ALL DO A MOCK SHIVER OF HORROR THEN LAUGH BRIEFLY BUT NERVOUSLY WITH CONSIDERABLE VOLUME.
PAUSE.
ROY You can’t really physically attack people in an ordinary working situation.
VICTOR I wish that was different.
GRACE The rule?
VICTOR Yes.
MARY They are made for our health and safety.
ROY As a rule.
THEY ALL SHRIEK WITH LAUGHTER FOR NO MORE THAN 2 SECONDS. LOUDLY.
PAUSE.
MARY Would anybody like something?
SHE WALKS ABOUT BRISKLY AND PURPOSEFULLY.
VICTOR I’ll get something.
HE WALKS AROUND SEARCHINGLY. FOR A SURPRISINGLY LONG TIME.
A MODEST, INTRODUCTORY FLUTTERING OF FURNITURE COMMENCES (TO BE DETERMINED IN DESIGN DISCUSSIONS)
ROY Is there nothing?
VICTOR There was plenty.
MARY There were biscuits.
VICTOR In particular there were dark biscuits and light ones.
MARY They were arranged interestingly.
ROY Is that possible? To arrange biscuits in such a way?
VICTOR Of course it is, Roy. Have you no imagination?
ROY Of course I have. Everybody has.
GRACE How do you know?
ROY I imagine they have. Bloody hell. Anyway, these biscuits, were they in the sky, with kittens on them?
VICTOR No.
MARY There were laid out: dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light dark light.
ROY Like dominoes.
VICTOR Less chewy.
MARY That was the problem, the more I think of it.
GRACE What?
MARY When you walked past them they would flicker against your eye.
ROY They were visible, in other words.
VICTOR They had the capacity to induce grand mal seizure.
GRACE Grand?
VICTOR Okay – petit.
ROY A fucking biscuit?
VICTOR Roy – had you ever thought that your cynicism closes you to valuable experience?
ROY No.
MARY The body, anxious to protect the mind, would obscure the biscuits.
ROY It would eat them.
VICTOR No. It would turn away from the migraine-inducing array.
ROY I tell you what I’d fucking do.
(NOBODY TAKES HIM UP ON THIS)
I’d fucking eat the dark ones. Or the light ones. Thereby eliminating the photosensitive provocation and relocating its constituents to my stomach.
MARY Anyway – there aren’t any.
GRACE Downer.
MARY Grace.
GRACE It’s street.
VICTOR Bummer. I’m really bummed. There’s fucking nothing.
PAUSE.
ROY I don’t need anything.
PAUSE.
GRACE How’s that?
ROY Huh?
GRACE How do you get by?
PAUSE
ROY I don’t know. I always have. I see the desire and I smooth it down. I ask myself: just what is this lack? Am I the woman under whose skirts the world crawls? I seal myself.
MARY He does.
VICTOR I wish I was like that.
ROY We can’t be like other people, Victor.
VICTOR No.
MARY They’re there already.
VICTOR Yes.
GRACE Yes.
PAUSE.
ROY Can’t have two of everything.
PAUSE.
VICTOR I…I…
GRACE What?
VICTOR I…I…
GRACE Oh.
MARY What if there were two…
THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER UNEASILY
GRACE I think I’d be sick.
MARY No.
VICTOR Now?
GRACE I certainly feel it.
ROY Would you like to be sick in my jacket?
ROY TAKES OFF HIS JACKET
MARY Roy. You’re old-fashioned.
ROY It wouldn’t be the first time.
GRACE I’m afraid it’s coming up. (SHE STARTS TO GAG)
VICTOR The sick?
GRACE The recent lunch.
SHE CONTINUES TO GAG.
ROY STANDS BY WITH HIS JACKET.
MARY There need not be two, Grace.
A LOUD BANG (MAROON)
GRACE What if I were to kill this prick that is cutting at your work, Roy?
ROY It would certainly take the scent off me and the suspicion of others.
VICTOR You and I, Roy, could play pool in the hotel all day, taking the looks of people.
MARY Thereby constructing alibis should they be needed in the event of enquiries.
GRACE I’ll rip the fucker up.
ROY Thank you very much, Grace. I’m really very grateful for this murder.
GRACE No – you were a gent when I was about to heave my contents.
MARY Bye bye, darling.
GRACE EXITS
VICTOR The sister of the woman next door is having a baby.
MARY Who is its father, this baby?
VICTOR I.
MARY You.
VICTOR I slipped over and gave her one.
MARY A tiny baby?
VICTOR The shag.
ROY Fuck.
MARY Where did you bang her?
VICTOR Where do you think?
ROY She means ‘in what particular physical location?’
VICTOR The front room.
MARY Where was Rebecca?
ROY The woman next door.
VICTOR Holding my trousers.
ROY Fuck.
MARY Was the television on?
VICTOR It may have been. I was on the job.
ROY I’ve only ever dreamed of shit like that.
VICTOR Roy – you are a dreamer. You said it yourself.
ROY So…
VICTOR It may be that your dreams are extraordinary. They may unfold in worlds in which you step between galaxies, irradiated by impossible desires, your nerves extended to distant suns, your palms full of tiny excited animals.
MARY We may all dream, Roy. Those who do not will endure the grey, cancerous worms that writhe brusquely through their intestines. Their minds are windless plains and their skin is stippled with dry sores.
VICTOR Oddly, Roy, those who do not dream are impelled by the very shapes that they suppress.
ROY In what way, exactly?
MARY They are driven. They are puppets engulfed by the dark.
VICTOR But dreamers are ordinary, Roy. It doesn’t exactly take any effort. We might even say that to dream is to hand over the reins.
ROY In the sense of…
MARY Don’t tell me your imaginings, Roy. I have them too.
VICTOR Open the box, Roy.
MARY Let your muscles do the talking.
ROY I think I’ll take a look next door. Rebecca, was it?
VICTOR Her sister is Elizabeth. Betty.
ROY Right.
ROY EXITS
PAUSE
VICTOR STARTS TO TREMBLE.
SOME OF THE FURNITURE STARTS TO TREMBLE (FOLLOWING DESIGN DISCUSSIONS).
VICTOR I…I…I…I
MARY Dunt gah ner…dunt gah…dunt gahn in…ner…dunt Victor!
VICTOR fff…fff…fff…fff
VICTOR STARTS TO HAVE AN EPILEPTIC SEIZURE.
AS HE THRASHES AROUND HE KICKS A PIECE OF FURNITURE TO PIECES.
MARY TAKES A SMALL PIECE OF FURNITURE AND STICKS IT IN HIS MOUTH.
HE CONTINUES TO KICK AND JERK.
A LOUD BANG (MAROON).
VICTOR IS FINE NOW. HE STANDS UP.
EXHILARATING TRANCE MUSIC KICKS IN.
VICTOR DANCES HAPPILY.
ENTER GRACE. HER LIPSTICK IS SMUDGED AND HER HAIR IS DISHEVELLED.
SHE DANCES WITH VICTOR FOR A FEW SECONDS THEN SHAKES HER HEAD.
THE MUSIC STOPS.
GRACE Okay. I shagged him.
MARY I thought…
GRACE He seemed nice enough.
MARY But…
GRACE Yeah, I know. Then I cut his cock off.
VICTOR Ouch.
GRACE Rather.
MARY Everything?
GRACE Everything that stuck out. He’s a woman now.
VICTOR Fuck.
GRACE PRODUCES A PACKAGE, NEATLY WRAPPED IN NEWSPAPER.
SHE TOSSES IT ONTO THE TABLE.
VICTOR What’s that?
GRACE The cock.
VICTOR Shit.
GRACE I’m a flee from justice now. Cops out there. Guns coming.
MARY Where Roy? Roy gone to other feller place.
VICTOR O crikey O crikey.
MARY Dunt ger Roy. Too late.
ROY SMASHES THROUGH THE WALL OF THE SET ONTO THE STAGE.
MARY Aagh Roy. Aagh Roy.
ROY I found out so much!
VICTOR Okay old friend you?
RUN ‘LA RAGE’ (see below)
AS THE SONG PLAYS, ROY SINGS THE FIRST FOUR LINES OF ‘LA RAGE’ BY THE FRENCH FEMALE RAP ARTIST KENY ARKANA
AS FOLLOWS:
La rage du peuple / La rage du peuple / La rage du peuple / La rage du peuple
(Trans: The rage of the people)
THE CAST ALL JOINS IN AND SINGS THE WORDS ‘LA RAGE’ WHENEVER THEY ARISE IN THE SONG. THEY ARE USED CHORALLY THROUGHOUT TO PUNCTUATE THE SINGER’S LINES.
AS THEY SING THEY STAND IN LINE ABREAST AND MOVE TO THE BEATS IN THE ESTABLISHED MANNER. ONE AFTER THE OTHER, EACH CAST MEMBER WILL STEP DOWNSTAGE, CONTINUING TO DO THE MOVES BUT FACING INTO THE AUDIENCE, THEN RETURNING TO THE LINE.
THEIR MANNER IS NOT AGGRESSIVE – THEY ARE FIRM AND SERENE.
WE WILL DETERMINE THE LENGTH OF THIS EPISODE IN REHEARSAL.
BELOW ARE SOME OF THE LYRICS. WE CAN MARK THEM UP TO INDICATE THE CHORAL INTERJECTIONS.
Ok, on a la rage mais c’est pas celle qui fait baver,
Demande à Fabe, la vie claque comme une semelle sur les pavés
La rage de voir nos buts entravés, de vivre en travers,
la rage gravée depuis bien loin en arrière
La rage d’avoir grandi trop vite quand des adultes volent ton enfance.
PARS !! Imagine un mur et abolis la rage !
Car impossible est cette paix tant voulue,
La rage de voir autant de CRS armés dans nos rues.
La rage de voir ce putain de monde s’autodétruire
Et que ce soit toujours des innocents au centre des tirs,
La rage car c’est l’homme qui a créé chaque mur,
Se barricader de béton, aurait-il peur de la nature ?
La rage car il a oublié qu’il en faisait parti,
désharmonie profonde, mais dans quel monde la Colombe est partie ?
La rage d’être autant balafré par les putains de normes,
Et puis la rage, ouais la rage d’avoir la rage depuis qu’on est môme.
(Refrain )
Parce qu’on a la rage, on restera debout quoi qu’il arrive,
La rage d’aller jusqu’au bout et là où veut bien nous mener la vie,
Parce qu’on a la rage, on pourra plus s’taire ni s’asseoir dorénavant on s’tiendra prêt parce qu’on a la rage, le coeur et la foi !
Parce qu’on a la rage, on restera debout quoi qu’il arrive,
La rage d’aller jusqu’au bout au delà où veut bien nous mener la vie,
Parce qu’on a la rage, rien ne pourra plus nous arrêter, insoumis, sage, marginal, humaniste ou révolté !
THE SOUND IS CUT ABRUPTLY.
THE FURNITURE IS FLUTTERING STEADILY.
ROY SEES THE PACKAGE ON THE TABLE.
ROY What’s that?
GRACE His cock.
ROY Goodness me.
GRACE You can have it.
HE EXAMINES THE PACKAGE, WITHOUT UNWRAPPING IT.
ROY It’s very neatly executed.
GRACE Are you saying I’m a slag?
ROY Quite the reverse. The packaging is very neat.
GRACE But you were surprised. You thought, fuck, I didn’t think that slag was capable of that.
ROY My position is that the handiwork is entirely consistent with the opinion, a high one, that I had formed of your character and potentials.
GRACE I just wanted to clear that up.
ROY LOOKS AROUND AND SEES THE BROKEN FURNITURE ON THE FLOOR.
ROY Oh dear.
MARY One of Victor’s turns.
ROY Not very good. Disappointing.
ROY GETS DOWN ON HIS HANDS AND KNEES AND STARTS TO PUSH THE FRAGMENTS OF WOOD INTO PILES, AS IF ABOUT TO CLEAR UP.
MARY No, Roy.
ROY Some of the pieces are very small. I don’t know how I can be expected…
GRACE Use the side of your hand.
ROY How?
GRACE Gather them together.
GRACE GETS DOWN ON HER HANDS AND KNEES AND SHOWS ROY HOW IT CAN BE DONE.
MARY (DISAPPROVINGLY) Grace…
ROY (SHARPLY) Let her do it!
GRACE STANDS UP SLOWLY AND MENACINGLY AND WALKS OVER TO MARY
GRACE Let me fucking do it.
MARY Get your fucking face out of my fucking face!
GRACE Listen, cunt…
MARY Don’t call me a cunt, slag !
ROY Let her fucking do it!
VICTOR Back off, Roy!
ROY STANDS UP SLOWLY AND MENACINGLY AND WALKS OVER TO VICTOR
ROY I’m normally placid, Victor.
VICTOR I noticed, Roy, I fucking noticed.
ROY I’m holding myself in.
MARY Don’t piss about with him, Roy.
ROY I’ve barely fucking begun.
VICTOR Fuck with me anytime, Roy. No need to send a letter.
ROY You couldn’t fucking read it, Victor.
GRACE SUDDENLY PUNCHES MARY.
MARY CRIES OUT.
THE TWO WOMEN STRUGGLE.
ROY (TO MARY) You tried to stop me tidying, bitch!
VICTOR (TO GRACE) It’s a slippery slope, Grace!
GRACE STOPS STRUGGLING FOR A MOMENT.
GRACE What?
VICTOR Tidying! It’s not the answer! It’s to do with your self!
GRACE Fuck OFF, Victor, you fucking dipshit! With your fucking hippy bollocks! My fucking arse knows more than you!
VICTOR Pardon me – I thought I was talking to your arse!
ROY PUNCHES VICTOR
GRACE AND MARY RESUME THEIR STRUGGLE
ROY Remember, Victor, you made me do this.
HE PRODS HIS FINGERS INTO VICTOR’S EYES.
VICTOR STAGGERS BACK, ROARING AND COVERING HIS EYES WITH HIS HANDS. BLOOD RUNS FROM BETWEEN HIS FINGERS.
VICTOR I’m blind!
ROY That’s because you fucked your mother!
MARY Now he’ll never see his longlost twin!
VICTOR What?
MARY Robert.
GRACE Who’s Robert?
MARY Victor’s twin that he’s never seen since birth is called Robert.
ROY Where’s he been, this Robert?
MARY In this town!
GRACE No!
MARY When Victor and Robert were born their father…
ROY Name?
MARY Rex.
VICTOR That’s correct.
MARY It is. Rex said he had only had intercourse with Victor’s mother…
VICTOR Gwen.
MARY If I may continue…
VICTOR I was trying to help.
MARY Thank you. Rex said he only had intercourse with Gwen on one occasion.
ROY Ever?
MARY Apparently.
ROY Perhaps he took her up the arse. On other occasions.
VICTOR Nobody fucks my mother up the arse!
ROY That’s not what she told me.
GRACE (ADMONISHINGLY) Roy!
VICTOR I’d kill you if I could see you, Roy.
MARY Rex believed that you could only have one baby per penetrative episode. He was not familiar with the monozygotic or dizygotic anomaly.
VICTOR He was a fine man.
ROY He fucked your mother, Victor.
VICTOR Daddy would’t do that!
GRACE Where is Robert now?
MARY Rex gave him a map and some sandwiches and told him to fuck off out. He said his resemblance to Victor was coincidental but unacceptable. He suspected Gwen of getting a bit on the side.
VICTOR Robert! I’ll never see him!
MARY He’s been living in the next street. The problem was that he looked so like Victor nobody noticed.
VICTOR Robert!
ROY Look at it this way, Victor. You don’t need to see him. He looks just like you.
MARY Strikingly so.
ROY So what’s it like losing your sight, Robert?
SCREAMS. FLUTTERING. NOISE. END.
2010
Link to Dash #3 in right hand column