America’s Sherklock Holmes
Chicago street corner the early 1900’s. A woman, SADIE looks around, she then reaches into a purse and takes out a cigarette. She puts it in her mouth. Suddenly out of nowhere a man with a long beard grabs the cigarette breaks it and strikes a pose. He is of course detective CLIFTON R. WOOLDRIDGE
CLIFTON
77!
SADIE
77?
CLIFTON
Madam you must be in shock.
SADIE
No just a little drunk.
CLIFTON
Drunk on the presence of greatness. That greatness – MINE! That presence – Currently. Shh, don’t speak. I see the problem! My disguise has fooled you. Well don’t be down in the heaps I fool all of the seedy underbelly of the wormy beef that is Chicago street slime!
(He removes the beard.)
Ta meet da!
SADIE
My name is Sadie.
CLIFTON
Of course, I guessed it from the shape of your skull.
SADIE
Huh? What kind of potato shit are you?
CLIFTON
Your salty language bruises my brain listeners – ears, to the common folk. Don’t you know who I am?
SADIE
A nut.
CLIFTON
I may have a hard shell and a protein rich core, but that’s where the similarities between me and the wonderful drupe exocarp of the South diverge! I see you’re new to Chicago—
SADIE
Lived here my whole life.
CLIFTON
If you call that living.
SADIE
I always called it Komkumba it’s Magyrian for dying a little at the twilight.
CLIFTON
SHUT UP! Here take my introductory pamphlet –
CLIFTON hands SADIE a pamphlet. He says it aloud from memory.
CLIFTON
America’s Sherklock Holmes – Clifton R. Wooldridge. Surprise it’s me!
SADIE
Don’t you mean Sherlock Holmes?
CLIFTON
You are so dumb no the famous English detective Sherklock.
SADIE
I’m think it’s Sherlock . . .
CLIFTON
Well that’s lady thoughts for you so cute and so wrong. Like watching an ape at a monkey party. WHERE IS YOUR TAIL! He hasn’t one. But I have.
(Takes out a tail.)
I removed it from a monkey who was rude to me. Lesson Learned.
SADIE
That’s—
CLIFTON
Lesson. Learned.
(Puts away the monkey tail.)
Sherklock one. Monkey minus one . . . MILLION!
CLIFTON does a karate chop for no reason.
SADIE
Anyway, is this supposed to be you on the cover?
CLIFTON
My likeness yes, but I also kept it vague, so crime can’t memorize my face. THAT’S BRAINS, GIRL! But who do you ask would have the smarts to recognize that I – Clifton R. Wooldridge – is America’s Sherklock Holmes?
SADIE
I did not ask any such poorly phrased query.
CLIFTON
Wrong. The answer is me! I figured it out when I stood in awe of how I solved the case of the missing bagpipe. The closet did it! Well, had it. IT WAS IN THE CLOSET! Oh, I see you doubt my prowess . . .
SADIE
I also doubt your sanity.
CLIFTON
They are linked dear Madame.
SADIE
Sadie.
CLIFTON
Not til after lunch! Turn to the back of the pamphlet – those are my stats!
SADIE looks them over.
CLIFTON
READ THEM ALOUD!
SADIE
Why?
CLIFTON
I like to hear my deeds read aloud. It arouses me . . . to action!
SADIE
Fine.
(Reading.)
17,000 arrests, 125 criminals sent to the penitentiary, $75,000 lost loot recovered, 67 dogs debarked, 100 pounds gained, 76 girls rescued from lives of shame.
CLIFTON
77 now that I can add you to the list!
SADIE
I wasn’t—
CLIFTON
That cigarette was the first step to a spiral of opium and phallus cum mouthus!
SADIE
I just do it for nerves, it’s calming.
CLIFTON
So are the sounds of whales, but you don’t see me punching a porpoise to get my beauty sleep. Perhaps it’s too late. You should read this pamphlet – also a Clifton Production –
CLIFTON gives her another pamphlet.
SADIE
Vampires Exposed or Ferreting Out the Women Grafters?
CLIFTON
I’m on to you like a rug fetishist on a freshly woven Oriental. Now Sinbad you better PrayGood or your adventures will be down at the workhouse.
SADIE
I’m just waiting for my sister.
CLIFTON
Is that what they call him. Of course. Mr. Sister the diabolical tyrant king of the lower slums of the Chicago slum district. Slum-tastic — I bet his battle cry rings.
SADIE
She’s working at the mill.
CLIFTON
I’m on to you– your pleading prose may be enough to bring tears to the eyes of an iron-eyed lawn-dog but I’m the firmer fish in the minnow pail!
SADIE
I only understand about half of what you’re –
CLIFTON
PAMPHLET!
CLIFTON gives her another pamphlet.
CLIFTON
Don’t bother getting your eyes dirty reading the inky words of truth, Sadie. I’ll tell you what it says; it says I’m also a master of disguise. In fact while I was watching you I was in one of my prime disguises.
(Puts the beard back on.)
Howdy Miss I’m Heck Houston Cattle Baron from Wyoming. I’m a whole heap of cow.
(Takes off beard.)
Don’t worry it’s just me. You equal fooled!
SADIE
I wasn’t –
CLIFTON
Other notable aliases, aliasies? Allases? OTHER DISGUISES –
(Strikes a pose denoting each one.)
Gambler Policy Sam Johnson
Wisenheimer Brick Load
Mysterious wanderer J. P. Porridge
Celestial Goat seller Wang Tang Doodle
And—
Ghetto Jew.
Impressed? Answer yes. Even I’m impressed.
SADIE
Is that all? No more pamphlets.
CLIFTON
I have this pamphlet on making pamphlets for fun and profit. And this one on dogs.
SADIE
Dogs.
CLIFTON
I like them. Especially ones that look like my grandmother. Nanny pups I call them. And then I reach down and give their little ears a scratch and then I sometimes realize . .. hey that’s a rat not a dog and I wonder about how I could have made that mistake and suddenly it’s Tuesday and I’m prone to the taste of hamburgers and I look down and the dog cum rat has vanished probably down a sewer maybe into my pants and I don’t realize it until I go home de pant and find him curled up in there sleeping off his little rat fever, for he’s very ill and I nurse him back to health and I dress him up in his own series of disguises because maybe he could be my partner –
(Strikes rat poses.)
Lord Ratting Cheesely Duke of Windsor
Uncle Bites the stern headmaster
Cheese Inspector Morris
And
Ghetto Jew.
(Beat.)
But they always die so soon like dreams in front of a father – oh pardon I’ve said too much. Here’s a forgiveness pamphlet.
CLIFTON gives SADIE another pamphlet.
SADIE
Look it’s all right; I’m just going to go . . .
CLIFTON
OK, but stay out of dens–opium or bear.
SADIE
That’s good advice. I guess.
SADIE scratches her arm, pulling up her sleeve. There’s an odd mark on her arm.
CLIFTON
What! That mark! The twin birthmark of the doomed raccoon! Oh. My. Buns! You’re Mister Sister—
SADIE
What? I mean . . . how did that get . . .
(Dropping the act.)
Well, well, Clifton once again you go and foil me act. Yes it’s me, after our last encounter on suicide falls where I faked my suicide –
CLIFTON
I called it the case of death by death.
SADIE
I read all about it, so I went to France, originally just to see the naked ladies dance.
CLIFTON
Through the hole in the wall?
SADIE
Where the boys can see it all, yes. They wrote a poem about it –
CLIFTON
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d by Walt Whitman — yes I’ve read it.
SADIE
But I knew I’d need a new disguise so I had a sex change or as the French call it change du sex. It was experimental, but I think it worked.
CLIFTON
Even the boobs?
SADIE
Especially the boobs.
CLIFTON
But now cur you have no hiding hole, the only hole you’ll have is a whole lot of jail time and a donut hole because they have donut Wednesdays at Chicago Jail, but no good donuts only plain.
SADIE
My favorite flavor is plain.
CLIFTON
IT WOULD BE!
SADIE
But fine. Yes. You caught me. But just do me one small favor before throwing me into the clink.
(Takes out a flower.)
Smell this flower.
CLIFTON
I hardly see how it’s relevant or even pertinent to the germane-ness of this conversation, but I shall, for I am a man of my word. And that word is – BOONDOGGLE! So it was decreed by a Druid Priest in a meadow not far from here.
SADIE
Gemlo’s meadow?
CLIFTON
Oh, you know it?
SADIE
Nope.
CLIFTON
BASTARD you tricked me for the last time.
SADIE
Doubtful. Now give a wiff with your sniff.
CLIFTON leans in and smells the flower. A beat.
CLIFTON
Very nice. You know for a moment I had worried your put some sort of knockout gas in the flower and I’d sniff it and fall into a slumber deep.
SADIE
Not very sporting of me that would be.
CLIFTON
True.
SADIE
But . . .
CLIFTON
What?
SADIE punches him.
SADIE
You have been lulled to false security! My punch has bested you!
CLIFTON
Ow, my face, I was using it. For talking. To you.
SADIE
But now I escape. For a man who is punched cannot arrest another man for 20 minutes, so go the corrupt laws of Chicago!
CLIFTON
Tis true! Folly! Chicago the criminals and crime-o-diles that pen your laws have made you a villain’s bitch. How you lap at the balls of thieves and sniff the bugler’s crotch! Chicago! Chicago . . .
SADIE
I leave! Slum-tastic!
SADIE runs off.
CLIFTON
This is not the end Mr. Sister! I shall have my . . . oh no a train!
Train sounds as a train comes and runs over CLIFTON.
I Love My Gay Horse
TRIP and BIMINY they are two women at a ranch.
BIMMINY
So I says, Bun, you know you can’t throw that up.
TRIP
What’d she say?
BIMMINY
Nothing she’s a rabbit. You know rabbit’s can’t throw up.
TRIP
Not even vomit?
BIMMINY
Not even up-chuck. They didn’t evolve to have the ability to have their cookies metaphorically tossed.
TRIP
Take that Darwin.
BIMMINY
Right up the monkey hole!
Long beat.
TRIP
So the rabbit, did she eat it?
BIMMINY
The Twizzler? Yep, the whole strawberry twist, right up her stupid rabbit mouth.
TRIP
So remember how I told you I think that horse of mine went gay . . .
BIMMINY
All queer’ed up you said.
TRIP
And I don’t mean this to be offensive; I have many gay friends from Fat Gay Sal to Thin Gay Sal and all the Gay Sal’s in between.
BIMMINY
And Pretty Gay Pete.
TRIP
Love him like a brother. But this damn horse of mine, he’s . . . well look at him.
BIMMINY
Maybe it’s a phase, wasn’t he all into Star Wars?
TRIP
Pokemon. But he collected them all and that was the end of it. Plus his hooves they don’t work the Nintendo so good, so he’s given it up. Not like his ancestors the Dawn horses of the Early Eocene, they had many toes, but then thanks to evolution they only got one toe left so they all prance around like ballerinas.
BIMMINY
Take that Darwin. You and your strange saga of horse evolution through the epochs of a time before history.
TRIP
Yup. Right up the prehistory hole.
BIMMINY
So . . . you test this horse? He looks all fruity and tarted up but he could be straight. There’s all them fancy boy straight people like Little Richard and Hulk Hogan.
TRIP
Test him how?
BIMMINY
Like show him pictures of dicks and see if he gets all hot and heavy.
TRIP
Where am I gonna get pictures of dicks from?
BIMMINY
Dunno. The Big Book of Dicks?
TRIP
Ricks?
BIMMINY
Yeah. Ricks Big Book of Dicks 8th Edition.
TRIP
8th edition!
BIMMINY
They discovered 3 new kinds of dicks and updated some references to tribal peoples . . . dicks.
TRIP
Worth getting? I mean I have vol. 5 . . . they charge a lot for those.
BIMMINY
Damn text-book publishers the way they evolved from a small enclave of men devoted to learning to greedy fat cats charging you an arm and a leg for a new map every time some country in Africa or Asia decides to break away or get a new flag.
TRIP
Take that Darwin. Right up the Myanmar hole. God look at that horse gallop, his long hair like the strings of some instrument playing a song I could never hear because my ears were made of mud and my soul a foolish wish a boy made when he pretended he was a knight but the only dragon was his sister and the sword he gripped was his own sweet . . .
BIMMINY
Sounds to me you love that queer horse.
TRIP
Truth be truth that horse is the best I ever saw and I never saw none better. Except one time but that wasn’t a real horse but an advert for cigarettes. I bet that cigarette shilling horse is long dead.
BIMMINY
Take that Darwin. Right up the nicotiana tabacum hole.
TRIP
That’s the scientific name for tobbacy ain’t it?
BIMMINY
You still remember after all these years. Our doctoral classes in biological husbandry seem to be ages ago.
TRIP
I’d always just copy off your paper. My whole thesis was just a reworked version of Byrad’s eukaryote dilemma.
BIMMINY
Please, you’re understanding of the innate cycle of ATP production in—
TRIP
(Crying.)
Look at that fucking fag horse go. Run you fucking queer ass fucking beautiful perfect fudge-packing horse. I fucking love you. I fucking love you.
BIMMINY
Don’t cry up. Horse owning microbiologist ain’t supposed to drop the salty spray, but—
(Crying.)
But at full cantor ain’t that horse like magic like a shimmer scimitar of truth and beauty more tangled and troublesome than the curves of the most secret writings of the Kabala—
TRIP
(Barely a whisper.)
Take that Darwin. Right up the Tetragammaton hole.
BIMMINY
I’m sorry, Trip, I never realized—
TRIP
(Crying.)
Me too. Me fucking too.
(To the horse pleading, full of tender mercy.)
I’m sorry I ever said those things and published that blog.
BIMMINY
It’s OK . . . people can change.
TRIP
Right up the Darwin hole. Oh, look . . . your fag horse just sprouted gay wings and flew off. Like a fucking Pegasus.
BIMMINY
Punctuated fucking equilibrium. Beauti-fucking-ful.
TRIP
(Watches the sky.)
Fucking fly you fucking pillow-biting queer ass friend of Dorothy horse! You just keep pumping them twink rainbow-spangled wings and soar through them swishy clouds and into the troposphere and, and fag-gone-it . . . fly!
BIMMINY
Fucking fly.
Long beat.
TRIP
Well, gotta go circumsize my Jew Mule.
They head off.
Best Ghost Friends
JILL is dressed as a ghost (sheet with eye holes). BRIAN and ALI enter, ALI has a basket of laundry.
ALI
Spirit! We have returned, are you still on this mortal plane?
JILL
Boo! Yes! Boo!
ALI
I have done this pile of laundry for you and painted that fence in the yard. Do you feel your earthly duties are complete and you can move on?
JILL
Boo! Alas! Boo! So many math problems plague me . . . I need this Algabra II homework done, problems 2 through 48, done . . . and remember . . . to show your work! . . . boo!
BRIAN
OK, enough, Jill—
JILL
Silence! Boo! I was—
BRIAN pulls the sheet off of JILL.
ALI
Oh my god! Under your spectral garb you’re . . .
BRIAN
She’s not a ghost.
ALI
What?
JILL
No.
ALI
You didn’t drown in old McGiver’s Mill.
JILL
No, and I don’t think old McGiver’s has a mill or is even that old.
ALI
But . . . we’re the Best Ghost Friends Club I’ve been helping you move beyond this earthly veil! I chopped all that firewood and picked those apples and . . . cleaned up your ectoplasm.
JILL
That was barf, because I was drunk from the liquor you brought me from your dad’s stash.
ALI
But you said that it was spirits to calm your restless spir . . . I chopped so much wood.
BRIAN
And we appreciate that, but we’re kind of sick of this ghost stuff. I mean I keep having to pretend to feel cold spots and getting ghost molested in the closet.
ALI
So ghosts aren’t touching your dingus?
BRIAN
I wish.
JILL
Plus, my mom caught me with this sheet and gave me this big lecture about how it’s offensive to the Armenians or something. She kept being like “they had a genocide too, Jill, they had a genocide too.”
ALI
But why?
JILL
I dunno, they were annoying?
BRIAN
Every since your mom won that membership to the Museum of Tolerance she’s been like a total Hitler about tolerance.
ALI
Wouldn’t that be a reverse Hitler?
JILL
No that’s when a guy punches you and then wipes his dick on your upper lip.
BRIAN
I thought that was a Steve Harvey—
JILL
No that’s—
ALI
Enough! Why did you guys trick me?
BRIAN
Well at first we thought it was funny, because you know cruelty and you kept reading that book about hauntings. So we were like let’s pretend there’s a ghost.
JILL
And because you smell weird.
ALI
That’s because my mom is all reconstructionist vegan and I can only rub flax seed on my pits because deodorant has rare earth metals that give you tumors. But it doesn’t work. It just makes this sort of paste and–
JILL
Look, honesty time. There is no ghost, but we don’t care. We’ve grown to enjoy your smell. And your weird face thing.
ALI
(Doing weird face thing.)
Weird face thing?
BRIAN
Look, Ali, we started out wanting to do this to hurt you and torment you because you know, growing up and life and wild flowers and hormones. But here’s the really sick part, we realized we liked you.
JILL
Plus we spent so much time making you cut all that firewood that we ignored our real friends and now you’re our only friend. So we wanted to tell you the truth, so now when we make you do things it would be for the right reasons.
BRIAN
I guess you could say the real haunting was Stockholm syndrome, because that’s what it was — like with us being held captive by you and your weird smell and your amazing ability to chop wood.
JILL
So much wood.
ALI
I’m sort of confused, but happy?
BRIAN
You should be, Jill and I are pretty great. So I hope we all—
ALI
Actually, look I only hung around you because I wanted to be around a ghost, because that’s kind of my thing, so if none of you are actual ghosts I think I’m just going to go home. I mean I have a lot of real ghosts that need my attention.
JILL
Wait you know real ghosts?
ALI
Oh sure and some are famous.
BRIAN
Famous ghosts or famous people who became ghosts?
ALI
Both.
BRIAN
Do they touch dingus-es?
JILL
Can’t we come along?
ALI
They touch everything. But no. You guys belong here, by all the wood. I’ll see you in school or something, I don’t want to leave the Dripping Phantasm waiting.
ALI exits.
BRIAN
I thought a dripping phantasm was when a guy—
JILL
Shut up! God.
JILL tosses the sheet down and storms off. BRIAN sulks, then picks up the sheet.
BRIAN
You’ll touch my dingus, right?
(As Ghost.)
“Noooo.”
(Drops the sheet.)
That really is a lot of . . . what a shitty birthday.
Hebert Hoover The Hands-Off President
ANNOUNCER
Dateline! 1931! America! Land of the Free Home of the Grave? Grave News indeed! The depression, gangland violence – but fear not! From the sun of hope comes a ray of believing! Because it’s time now for another thrilling adventure of HERBERT HOOVER – THE HANDS OFF PRESIDENT!
HERBERT HOOVER runs out. He runs in place as patriot music plays. SENATOR BENSON and WONDER PUP enter.
SENATOR
Mr. President!
Music cuts out.
HOOVER
Don’t interrupt me – President Herbert Hoover — when I’m running to patriot music! It keeps the spleen regular.
WONDER PUP
Bark!
HOOVER
Oh I can never stay mad at Senator Benson, the teen boy senator who was accidently elected because of a ballot error.
SENATOR
Whoop-dee! And I just shot marbles and got Dawes’ agee!
HOOVER
And of course you, Wonder pup, the man who thinks he’s a crime fighting dog.
WONDER PUP
Bark! Bark! Growl!
HOOVER
Well you know my motto: Don’t help people – or they’ll never learn to help themselves! Tis the Republican way!
HOOVER / WONDER PUP / SENATOR
Republicans! Republicans! Hugga-hogga hooga-hagga! YEAH!
They all chest bump.
HOOVER
Good, by reciting the secret Republican oath I know none of you were replaced by aliens from another world. Like in my famous adventure . . . aliens from another world.
WONDER PUP
Bark.
SENATOR
We got a big problem, Prez, and I don’t mean deciding between taking Cindy or Mindy to the Senatorial Prom! Because–Wait, I’m receiving a psychic vision—
WONDER PUP
Bow-wowzers!
HOOVER
No, wonder pup he didn’t say he was receiving a t-bone steak! You crazy canine!
SENATOR
I see it now . . . The Senatorial Prom, there’s punch and streams, and Senator Gorman is wearing a tux and we’re all doing the jitterbug, oh it’s so . . . oh, oh SAD!
HOOVER
Sad? But it sounds like a hopknot of a box social!
SENATOR
I’m with Cindy and. . . we’re sitting in the secret make-out compartment in the Supreme Court—
HOOVER
That’s where Taft Jr. was conceived! After much lubricant.
SENATOR
I’ve read the plaque! But I’m just . . . shucks to gonn-it, I’m only gonna get a hand job from that crying dame!
HOOVER
There’s nothing worse than a sloppy woman giving a sloppier hand job.
SENATOR
(Starts normal gets very dark, very evil by the end.)
I wrote that over the door of the white house, until someone caught me and made me erase it, but you can’t erase paint, you can only paint over it, with more paint, lying paint, paint that knows your–I mean, golly! I have a whiz bang of an adventure for you today President Herbert Hoover!
HOOVER
Well shut your fucking mouth and tell me!
SENATOR
Telling is for Democrats, we’ll . . . show you . . . Wonder Pup join hands and we’ll transform into a magic bird.
WONDER PUP
Woof!
SENATOR and WONDER PUP clasp hands and transform into a magical bird.
SENATOR BIRD
Hop on my back . . . we fly . . .
HOOVER hops on they fly off. In another area of the stage is an old woman – OLD MARM — with a badly made puppet and an empty chair.
OLD MARM
Well father, we in such dire straits, that you gone and went puppty, and our boy jimmy has turned into a chair.
(As Jimmy.)
Oh, mama I don’t mind at least I got my splinters.
(Slaps chair.)
Shut yo mouth boy! Ut-oh here comes the dust bowl.
Sounds of wind. OLD MARM throws away Papa puppet.
OLD MARM
Father! You done blown away in the dust bowl. If it only it was a dust net and I could catch my dreams. But.
(Slaps chair.)
You don’t sass me, boy! Oh I can’t stay mad at you.
(Slaps chair.)
That’s for not letting me be mad! And oh what’s–
SENATOR BIRD
Caw! Caw!
SENATOR BIRD and HOOVER fly in, HOOVER gets off the bird. The bird transforms back into SENATOR and WONDER PUP.
SENATOR
Uncombine!
OLD MARM
Wow, things. Happening!
HOOVER
Go on I can handle this!
SENATOR
I’m gonna get me a phosphate with extra old timey reference!
SENATOR runs off.
HOOVER
Madame fear not it is I –democratically elected Republican president Herbert Hoover–famous for doing nothing to stop this crippling depression. Because I believe you have to pull yourself up by your boot straps. I’m here!
HOVOER sits.
OLD MARM
You’re sitting on my son.
HOOVER
I know.
OLD MARM
So you’ll help us since our crops all died and then the cows all died and the crops came back but double died and then the dream of crops died and then the water dyed itself blue which made all our chickens die and then the land done run out on us and left us with nothing but dust as infertile as my sister’s nethers – she’s the old maid school teacher up yonder — I reckon.
HOOVER
Your story was as sad as it was incomprehensible. But reckon nothing, I go around the country wherever I am needed and sternly tell them: “Help yourself.”
OLD MARM
But we got—
HOOVER
HELP YOURSELF!
OLD MARM
nothing. How can we help ourselves?
HOOVER
Try harder!
OLD MARM
But the soil is dead! Our last bean grew wings and flew up to heaven.
HOOVER
You’re not going to get rich with that attitude. Maybe you need motivation. I’m going to cut up your son for fire wood. Wonder Pup burn this chair!
WONDER PUP
Bark, woof!
WONDER PUP takes the chair and runs off.
OLD MARM
Now I got nothing to live for!
HOOVER
Exactly! There on the distance don’t you see George Washington wrestling that cherry tree and kicking a slave? All in front of a waggling banner of Old Glory herself. Look here he comes.
GEORGE WASHINGTON enters.
GEORGE WASHINGTON
I am George Washington!
OLD MARM
Oh I love you General George, when I was a young girl on the farm, I spent many an evening dreaming of you taking me away to Mount Vernon where you’d keep me in a small box and feed me rye bread and rub my haunches.
(To Hoover.)
I have a strange fetish.
GEORGE WASHINGTON
I know, I watched you write in your weird wish book from up in Presidents’ heaven, but now you must fix your situation you must make the land fertile again.
OLD MARM
But how? I got nothing to fertilize this land.
GEORGE WASHINGTON
Nothing? Are you sure?
WASHINGTON and HOOVER
OLD MARM
You mean me? Use my flesh to give nutrients?
WASHINGTON and HOOVER nod, help OLD MARM to the ground, she lays down.
OLD MARM
I’ve wanted for death often, when father used to mount me smelling of tarragon and he’d always sigh and say “well it’s better than a gunshot I guess.” Or when—
HOOVER
Shhh. Shhh.
GEORGE WASHINGTON
Let go, don’t fight it.
OLD MARM
I’m not. I’m . . . oh here it goes. Dead.
OLD MARM dies.
HOOVER
That’s it decompose now, let your body replenish this soil and in time it’ll become a strip mall or an Irish Pub that has nothing authentic or Irish in it, but good deals on pints. Maybe even a Jiffy Lube or a place that sells ice cream novelties like choco tacos or Bubble O’Bill—
GEORGE WASHINGTON
He’s got a bubble gum nose.
HOOVER
maybe your calcium atoms will become the silver sheen on scratch-off tickets, or —
GEORGE WASHINGTON
She’s gone.
HOOVER
Good work.
GEORGE WASHINGTON takes off his hat it was SENATOR the whole time.
SENATOR
I like this George Washington disguise. Did I do good, Prez?
WONDER PUP lumber in.
WONDER DOG
Bark! Bark!
HOOVER
Well you’ve got Wonder Pups vote . . .
SENATOR and HOOVER stare at each other, suddenly erotic.
HOOVER
Should we . . .
SENATOR
So it wouldn’t be . . .
HOOVER
Awkward . . .
HOOVER and SENATOR close their eyes move in to kiss, but WONDER PUP leaps up and they end up kissing WONDER PUP. They open there eyes in shock and surprise.
HOOVER
Wuh-wuh-wonder pup!
SENATOR
What a nickel nubbler!
WONDER PUP
(Shrugs. In weird dog voice–)
Ain’t I a stinker.
They all laugh then it gets erotic again.
HOOVER
Yes . . .
SENATOR
Yes . . .
They all move in for the orgy to begin.
The 7 Scenes that Create the Life of President Franklin Pierce
Scene 1: The Discovery.
Young FRANKLIN PIERCE enters. He looks in a hand mirror, he’s quite handsome. From across the room a bottle of whisky enters. It’s good, expensive and top shelf. FRANKLIN PIERCE spies the whiskey, it spies him. A love song plays as they meet center, and dance.
Scene 2: Courtship of a Good Woman.
JANE APPLETON is sitting at a table with FRANKLIN PIERCE. They are sharing a malted root beverage.
JANE
Oh, Franklin, this is the best malted root beverage I’ve ever had.
PIERCE
I just like it cause I’m with you . . . Jane Appleton . . . future wife of me, Franklin Pierce . . . of history . . .
JANE
Oh, Franklin.
Then BLUTO enters, he’s a big burly sailor with a black beard and blacker heart.
BLUTO
Plain Jane? Hardly, what a dish!
BLUTO moves between PIERCE and JANE.
PIERCE
Hey buddy, don’t musckle in on my lady–
BLUTO
Pipe down, pipsqueak.
BLUTO bashes PIERCE on the head he falls to the floor. BLUTO throws JANE over his shoulder.
BLUTO
Let’s go somewhere secluded, heh, heh.
JANE
Oh help! Franklin! Help!
BLUTO starts to carry her off. FRANKLIN reaches into his pocket takes out a bottle of rum.
PIERCE
Looks like a job for me personal stash.
PIERCE chugs the rum and for some reason gains super strength, he leaps to his feet and runs over and punches BLUTO in the stomach. BLUTO drops JANE, whom PIERCE catches and daintily places on her feet. He then savagely beats BLUTO to a pulp; it’s unsure whether he’ll survive.
JANE
My hero!
JANE embraces PIERCE. BLUTO lets out a death rattle.
Scene 3: The Road to the White House!
PIERCE stands next to a tree holding a bottle of wine. Several other people including the DEBATE MODERATOR and WINFIELD SCOTT stand around watching him.
PIERCE
(To the tree.)
You pathetic fool! You think and you bray like a donkey in a stew pot! But you mean nothing! I want change, vote for Pierce! Your reply, sir?
Beat, the tree of course says nothing.
PIERCE (cont.)
Cat got your onion. Onion? No thank you I’m on a diet. I win this debate! You lose.
DEBATE MODERATOR
Mr. Pierce . . .
PIERCE
(Looking around.)
I think he left.
DEBATE MODERATOR
You are Mr. Pierce.
PIERCE
I know. Keep up, fellow.
DEBATE MODERATOR
I’m afraid the debate is going on over here, sir. You have wandered off and started talking to a tree.
WINFIELD SCOTT
Yeah! Debate me! For I am Winfield Scott! Old Fuss and Feathers!
DEBATE MODERATOR
So if you’re done let-—sir, are you urinating?
PIERCE is in fact urinating with no regard to anyone.
PIERCE
I’m just a little out of it, because I have a cold which has unaligned my humors, plus the lights on the video-cameras are bright.
DEBATE MODERATOR
Video-cameras have yet to be invented. There be no reason to your dunderness, but let us finish the debate over here.
PIERCE
Yes, yes, in two shakes.
DEBATE MODERATOR, WINFIELD SCOTT and exit.
PIERCE
(Noticing the tree as if for the first time.)
Don’t tell my wife, but after I win this debate wait here and I’ll show a lady of your charms what she’s good for. What say ye?
(Pats the tree.)
That-a-girl. See you in a quarter past!
DEBATE MODERATOR
We are waiting on you!
PIERCE goes over to DEBATE MODERATOR.
PIERCE
OK, gramps, but no hard questions my head didn’t get this pretty by thinking.
(He vomits a little on the Moderator’s shoes.)
Ignore that.
PIERCE and the MODERATOR exit.
Scene 4: Humble in Victory
PIERCE humps the tree, his pants around his ankles, his arms out stretched a bottle of bourbon in each.
PIERCE
I’m king of the world!
Scene 5: Pierce’s Son Is Beheaded on the way to the inauguration . . .
PIERCE with his son (who is a bottle of alcohol) stand at some train tracks.
PIERCE
My son, we’re going to Washington! I’m going to be president . . . go play on the tracks! Nothing bad ever happened on train tracks!
PIERCE buts the SON on the tracks a little train comes, runs him over, knocking the top off the bottle spills everywhere!
PIERCE
Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!!
PIERCE cries then starts drinking his son a little.
PIERCE
So tragic! So . . . deliciously . . . tragic. Tragic!
Scene 6: The Presidency
PIERCE, hung-over at his desk. He is staring at a spoon. WILLIAM MARCY his Secretary of State is next to him.
MARCY
Mr. President—
PIERCE
Shhh. I’m trying to move that fork . . . with my mind.
Beat.
PIERCE (cont.)
It moved, did you see it move?
MARCY
You do know that that object is a spoon not a fork.
PIERCE
(Glares at him.)
Did you see it move?
MARCY
If I say yes can we get on to the matters of state?
PIERCE
Yes.
MARCY
Fine, it moved.
PIERCE
Now say that it’s a fork—
MARCY
Sir, my father was a flatware-smith to call a fork a spoon would be akin to desecrating his grave, rather—
PIERCE starts tearing up the documents on his desk. He spills ink on some others.
PIERCE
Ooops, clumsy me.
MARCY
Fine sir, though my father may roll thrice in his grave that object is . . .
(A deep sigh.)
A fork.
PIERCE
(Throwing up his hands.)
I’m the greatest! Ow.
(Clutches his head.)
Ow. Shouldn’t have moved so fast. Stupid hangover. Do you think hangover and hanger steak come from the same root? Steak. No. Greasy—oooh. Don’t upchuck, Franky, hold it in, recall the vomitious tide . . . remember how you opened Japan to the West . . . that was . . .
PIERCE vomits a good deal.
PIERCE
(Considers the vomit.)
Is that chipped beef?
MARCY
Moving on. With Congress—
PIERCE lets out a large belch
PIERCE
Tastes like peaches . . . and day old kittens.
MARCY
(Ignoring him.)
Congress passing the Kansas-Nebraska Act, and—-ew, kittens, that is repugnant!
PIERCE
What? Kittens is my maid.
MARCY
(Restrains from exploding with rage.)
Fine. Great. Anyway the Kansas-Nebraska Act, which you signed into law . . . for some reason.
PIERCE
Senator Brooks double-dog dared me.
MARCY
Well, because of that double-dogged dare a veritable war has broken out in Kansas. The Free Soilers are clashing with—
PIERCE
Which one is Kansas the one the looks like Andrew Jackson’s loins or the one that looks like a scone?
MARCY
It’s the near rectangular one.
PIERCE
No. That’s not right. Are you thinking of Canada? That sounds like Kansas. Canada. Kansas. Canada. Kansas. Canama. Ha. Canama. Who would live in Canama?
MARCY
I assuredly don’t know.
PIERCE
Canamaniacs. SLAM! Ow—
(Grabs head.)
Ow. Still, I got your goat with that.
MARCY
You can keep it. What we need is a resolution that—
PIERCE
(Puts a handkerchief over his eyes.)
Look. I’m too depressed for that. My son was beheaded on the way to my inauguration as president. It’s so terrible.
MARCY
It was terrible. It was also three years ago. Whenever we try to legislate you bring up your son—
PIERCE
(Singing.)
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you feel the same
If I saw you in heaven?
MARCY
Anyway—
PIERCE
I just wrote that song, just now. I am amazing.
(Grabs his head.)
Ow. Ow.
(Beat.)
Look can’t you just do it and I’ll sign it.
MARCY
Do what, Mr. President.
PIERCE
Whatever. Look. Just make me look good.
MARCY
I think that—
PIERCE
Beheaded son.
MARCY
Fine.
Scene 7: Death Comes at Last
PIERCE in his deathbed. He thrashes around.
PIERCE
I’m dying . . . oooh. It hurts.
A giant, empty bottle of Scotch enters the room in a cape, and somehow holding a scythe. It comes ominously toward PIERCE.
PIERCE
Now I see. In life I drank of you. Now in death, you drink me. But be gentle. My son was beheaded you know. So I should go to heaven. I know I said the South was right in the Civil War but . . . come on: beheaded son. Besides all presidents go to heaven, right? Right?
The bottle drawers closer. Closer. It touches PIERCE and begins to fill with liquid. PIERCE dies. A white light shines down upon him.
END OF PLAY
A Day In the Life of the Wolfman
Dr. Von German
Today we continue my seventeen part lecture series: MONSTERS, exclamation point, THEY ARE REAL question mark. Today’s subject is taken from direct field study. We present part six: A Day in the Life of the Wolfman. All of this is fact! Ladies of a weak disposition may want to leave the room now. We begin at 6:00 AM the Wolman awakes!
WOLFMAN gets out of bed. He yawns, scratches. Sits at a table. He clicks on the TV. Low mumble of a newscast. He goes and gets a bloody bucket labeled: “CHUM & PARTS” He gets a spoons and eats the flesh like cereal.
DR. VON GERMAN
Notice how he holds the spoon! Most inhuman!
WOLFMAN
Nothing but bad fucking news. Don’t they know we don’t want to hear this shit? I got my own problems I don’t need to hear about Iraq or shit they call me a monster it’s the politicians that are the real–Oh there’s that hot weather chick.
Wolfman puts his hand down his pants, starts to masturbate. As he does he makes soft barking noises. Dr. Von German gets flustered and tries to block the masturbating Wolfman.
DR. VON GERMAN
Uh let us move forward–
He’s interrupted by an orgasmic howl.
DR. VON GERMAN (cont.)
11:34 AM. The Wolfman has just purchased a medium coffee beverage from a notable coffee vending chain.
Wolfman holds a paper coffee cup. He takes a sip.
WOLFMAN
Is this soy milk? Shit. I hate–excuse, hey! Excuse me is this soy milk? No? It tastes just like–oh, you’re sure. Right. Cause it really tastes . . . OK. Yeah sorry. Five dollars for a coffee and it tastes—and they call me a monster? Corporations are the real monsters! Hooowwwwwllllll!!!!!
DR. VON GERMAN
Later that day, after a quick lunch at Zabar’s our Wolfman spends a few hours in some trendy Chelsea Galleries.
Wolfman looks at paintings. He looks a little bored. Dr. Von German wheels in an odd contraption.
DR. VON GERMAN
Thanks to my Telepatelephonolistenatron, paten pending, we can hear the bestial thoughts of this blood thirsty monster! Let me just tune it to Wolfman.
Dr. Von German adjusts the knobs. It sounds like a radio. He sets the dials.
WOLFMAN
. . . this place. Is that pointillism? Maybe it’s–what’s that shit Jackson Pollack did? I wish I paid attention in art history. Like I’m here for the art . . . check out that piece of ass. My ruff is going up just thinking about her. I wonder if the curtains match the drapes.
(Nods toward her.)
Yeah that’s right. Shit. I’ve gotta itch. Damn fleas.
(He scratches like a dog.)
Oooh, that feels good, oooh yeah, ruff, ruff,
Wolfman makes contented barking sounds. Then stops, suddenly self conscious.
WOLFMAN (cont.)
Shit, is everyone looking at me? Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh god, is that my hair on that painting, maybe I should . . .
Wolfman starts to reach to take the hair from the painting, but then stops.
WOLFMAN (cont.)
Nah, I don’t want to scratch—how much is this thing worth?
(Leans in to read the price.)
1.2 million! This is outrageous! This artist is preying on a public interested only in fashion and taste! Like a succubus! You’re all the true monsters contemporary visual artists! Hooooooowwwwwwwwl!!!!!
DR. VON GERMAN
Later our Wolfman goes home to prepare for his date. Freshly washed from a bath.
Wolfman’s home. He enters in a bathrobe, freshly washed, with a towel around his head. He picks up the remote.
WOLFMAN
Ah, what’s on? Oooh, man Mary Tyler Moore. I’ve loved this show since I was a pup.
Watches it for a moment.
WOLFMAN
Shit if Dracula knew I was watching this, I’d never hear the end of it. He’d be all like: “Hey Vulfman, I vant to suck your menstrual blood, because you are such a girl, vatching this show! Blah. Blah!” Fucking vampires, they’re so—
(Becomes angry at the TV.)
What! Lou Grant you gotta let Mary leave early! She has a date with Tad and—Lou Grant you lumbering old mummy! You’re the true monster! Hooooooooowwwwllllll!!!!
DR. VON GERMAN
And later while checking e-mail . . .
WOLFMAN
Maybe I should help that guy in Nigeria, he seems.–another spam offer for penis enlargements! They keep coming like a horrible gelatinous blob creature! Spammers you’re the true monsters! Hooowwwwwllllll!!!!!
DR. VON GERMAN
That’s what he gets for still using netscape. And now we witness something no other documentaries were ever able to capture. The mating ritual of the feared and elusive man-wolf.
A nice restaurant the Wolfman sits talking to his date.
WOLFMAN
No, order whatever you like, I got the funds, worry not. Fat? No way, baby, you get any skinnier and you’ll be the invisible woman. I actually know the invisible man. Very tragic. Seriously, he killed himself last Christmas right in Macy’s. Really sad part was no one noticed until after New Year’s, you know being invisible and all. Finally they traced this stink to his corpse, and . . . it was a lovely funeral and—you want more wine? No it’s not a—waiter more wine!
(Sigh.)
So yeah. You know I never thought I’d do the whole online dating, but J-Date is really a nice set up. Yeah I’m Jewish. Oh hey you know how they say some people are all thumbs, but I got ’em beat–
(Holds up his clawed hands.)
All paws. Get it? Not paws exactly. Actually more like hideous claws for ripping flesh. Ha. Ha. What? We just ordered. I’m not—look I’m not like. I said in my profile I was hairy. It’s not . . . look. It’s those movies right! Next you’ll be asking about silver bullets and moonlight transformations! Those movies they made in the 40’s are complete lies! Claude Rains should be—those Universal movies are the Birth of a Nation to the Wolfman population. Hollywood is racist! It’s like saying all Blacks are watermelon eating–yes, it is the same thing! No! Listen! Hey you’re not fuzz free yourself, you think I didn’t see that mustache! Yeah I said it! Fine! Go ahead! Leave! I can–I’m going to stay here and have a nice meal by myself! You know what its people like you, you’re the real monsters! Howwwwwllllll!!!!!!
Wolfman sighs and sits back at the table. A pause, then . . .
WOLFMAN
Check please.
DR. VON GERMAN
The Wolfman stops at a bodega, buys a forty stumbles on home . . .
WOLFMAN
(Between chugs.)
Cindy! Why did you–or was it Sarah! Sarah!! Shit look at me, I’m acting like a–you know why! Cause of–
(looks at the bottle.)
Booze you’re the real monster . . .
(Begins to howl but then stops.)
Awww, fuck it.
DR. VON GERMAN
And he stumbles into bed, turns out the light and the world is safe for another day from the Wolf-Man. Join us next week for part seven: The Bogeyman, colon, Where Is He Now question mark. Until then, stay spooky!
END OF PLAY
All For A Tongue
KYLE sits at a table, a few different cups with powders in front of him. He also has a pencil and paper. REGGIE stands nearby holding a stop watch.
REGGIE
And go.
REGGIE clicks on the stopwatch. KYLE quickly goes and tastes the different powders. After a few moments . . .
KYLE
Done.
REGGIE
Done?
KYLE
Click the watch.
REGGIE
(Clicks it.)
Fine, but no one has ever completed a pepper profile in—
KYLE
They never met Kyle Styloid. Super taster.
REGGIE
You super tasters think you’re the shit, but . . .
(Reads over Kyle’s notes.)
Hmm.
KYLE
Nailed it. I have the PRC and antifores down to a point thirty. I know, I know, most super tasters can only do a point sixty, but as I said they ain’t me.
REGGIE
You’re good, but you’re arrogant.
KYLE
I could have lent my tasting talents Flavco or Slurps but I came here to Taste Dome. In 6 months I’ll have raised your flavor profile by a factor of 10. You know what that means? Triple profits for all those food snobs. All thanks to this guy.
(Sticks his tongue out.)
Only 3% of the population can taste things as well as a super tasters and of that 3% there has never been anyone-—
REGGIE
I read the Yale studies. But you act like it’s a skill. You were just born lucky with an increased number of fungiform papillae.
KYLE
So why don’t you take the pepper test?
(Beat.)
That’s what I thought.
REGGIE
You’re a punk! Don’t you realize with great taste buds comes great responsibility?
KYLE
You still talking? Either way, stop. I must prepare. I got a hot date with this internet hottie. She’s going to be a total sea lion.
REGGIE
Sea lion?
KYLE
Wet and balancing some balls on her face. Booya!
Scene changes to a downtown bar. KYLE sits at a table. UMAMI, a hot young woman comes over with two drinks. Some dance music plays in the background.
KYLE
Ooh, yeah . . . listen my enhanced taste makes me . . . alcohol doesn’t–
UMAMI
Oh, yes I know, this isn’t—-just taste it.
KYLE
OK. Just a sip . . .
(Takes a sip. Impressed.)
Subtle, but . . . some star anis. Some. Oh, this is nice.
UMAMI
So does everything have a unique taste to a super taster?
KYLE
Maybe not for your average tongue stud, but me . . . yeah, pretty much . . .
UMAMI
What about . . .
UMAMI whispers into his ear.
KYLE
You are nasty!
UMAMI
Finish that drink and I’ll show you–
KYLE downs his drink.
KYLE
Let’s go . . .
UMAMI takes KYLE by the hand leads him off. Music comes up louder. Lights out for a moment. The music cross-fades with the sounds of KYLE moaning.
Lights up to reveal KYLE sitting in a chair his head thrown back, covered by a large icepack.
Sitting in a chair nearby is FBI Agent, EDITH LAMINA. She watches him with her arms folded. There’s a small cooler next to her. KYLE moans again, starts to wake up.
KYLE
(Talking strangely.)
Uh zuh—-
KYLE bolts upright touches his face. He realizes that his tongue has been cut out.
KYLE
Oh muh guh, oh muh guh.
LAMINA
Tongue’s gone.
KYLE
Huh! Huh uh–
LAMINA
Relax. I’m FBI agent Edith Lamina, I’m here to help you. You are the victim of grand theft organ.
KYLE
Fuh! Fuh.
LAMINA
Easy, don’t panic.
KYLE
Duh pahuh, muh tuh is guh!
LAMINA
I know your tongue is gone, but hysterics won’t bring it back. You have to trust me.
KYLE
Duh uh nu whu Uh um!
LAMINA
Of course, you’re Kyle Styloid. The super taster. And as a super taster you should’ve know better than to just follow a strange women home.
KYLE
Yuh uh stuhguh wuhmuh.
LAMINA
Nothing about me is strange. Now listen I’m only going to explain this once.
KYLE
Guh—
LAMINA
Shh. You’re tongue was stolen by a cult. The Society of the 5th Sense. They are run by a mysterious woman, Umami. We figure she’s the one who took your tongue. Is this the woman who seduced you last night?
LAMINA shows KYLE a photograph.
KYLE
Uh! Uh! Tuhsuh huh.
LAMINA
Many centuries ago an Incan Emperor had his greatest smiths create a potato of solid gold. The Golden Potato of Pachamama. Encoded in this golden tater was all the knowledge of the world. How the Inca got all the world’s knowledge, well—anyway, the secrets can only be licked out of out the potato. But not just anyone can can taste the secrets of the Inca . . .
KYLE
Muh tuh suh nuh muh tuh tuh geh uh puhtuhtuh–
LAMINA
Exactly. Only seven people every generation are born who can taste the secrets of the potatoes. The other six all died under mysterious circumstances.
KYLE
Wuh uh duh putuhuh?
LAMINA
By what some would say is coincidence The Golden Potato of Pachamama is being shown at the City Art Museum’s “Thinkin’ Incan” show on view now until March 8th. You and I have to go to that museum stop her from licking the potato and get back your tongue.
KYLE
Huh uh suh huh?
LAMINA
We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
(Picks up the cooler.)
And here a gift courtesy of the FBI.
LAMINA opens the cooler, KYLE looks inside.
KYLE
Uh duh uh . . .
LAMINA
Yup, open wide.
KYLE opens his mouth, LAMINA takes a tongue out of the cooler and attaches it into Kyle’s mouth.
LAMINA (cont.)
Let me just get the temporary clamps. There.
KYLE
(Weird voice.)
Hey it works! Wait, what’s with this ridiculous voice?
LAMINA
Artificial tongue tech has only progressed so far. You’ll be stuck with that voice for the time being.
KYLE
Well this is ridiculous.
Scene changes to the museum. UMAMI is on one side and the golden potato is on the other.
UMAMI
At last! His tongue is so—the fool could never know what power waggled between his lips. Oh to taste the sculpted secrets and then conquer.
LAMINA and KYLE run in.
LAMINA
Not so fast.
KYLE
Yeah, hands up.
LAMINA
Let me.
UMAMI
Agent Edith Lamina of the FBI. I was hoping you’d be here to witness my victorious tasting.
LAMINA
Yeah well, taste this!
LAMINA lunges at UMAMI. UMAMI and LAMINA fight. They struggle, but UMAMI gets the upper hand and licks LAMINA across the face. This zaps her strength for some reason and UMAMI throws her to the ground.
KYLE runs over to LAMINA and cradles her.
LAMINA
I’m sorry . . .
KYLE
Are you–?
LAMINA
Her powers, when she uses it her tongue is a deadly weapon, and now that she has yours—
(Coughs.)
I don’t have much time.
KYLE
You’re dying? This is messed up.
LAMINA
You have to stop her.
KYLE
She has my tongue. My awesome, awesome tongue.
LAMINA
It’s not just having your tongue. It’s knowing how to use it.
LAMINA dies.
KYLE
No . . . no . . .
UMAMI
How sad. How pathetic But all too soon none of it will matter.
UMAMI moves to the golden potato.
KYLE
You’re not Frenching that magic tater on my watch.
UMAMI
Fine, I shall taste your death upon my papillae.
They battle with their tongues. Using them like weapons.
UMAMI (cont.)
I will not lose to an insolent no taster.
They continue to battle.
UMAMI (cont.)
You’re tiring.
KYLE
Hardly, in high school I pleasured the entire girl’s softball team . . . in one night.
They battle.
KYLE
Feeling licked, yet?
UMAMI
No puns!
They battle more, KYLE starts to get the upper hand, he flings UMAMI away with his tongue.
KYLE
Call me a cat.
UMAMI
What?
In one quick move KYLE lunges and pulls his tongue out of UMAMI’S mouth, she falls to the ground.
KYLE
Cause I got your tongue . . . bitch.
UMAMI
Nuh. Buh wuh uh uh duh nuh? Wuh yuh tuhtuh duh puhtuhtuh?
KYLE
No. I realize that I took this tongue too frivolously. I know that you and your minions may be bested today but you’ll continue to salivate over the knowledge in that golden potato. I know because the desire to lick the golden potato is . . . there’s too much at risk. This is a heroes tongue and let’s face it, I’m kind of a douche bag.
UMAMI
Wuh uh yuh guhuh duh?
KYLE drops the tongue to the floor and stomps on it. Stamps it to pieces with his foot.
UMAMI (cont.)
nuuuuuh! Yuh fuhuh!
KYLE
I may be a fuhuh. But it’s my choice. You and your people have lost. The world or whatever is safe now. You were trying to take over the world, right?
UMAMI
Yuh.
KYLE
Good.
INCAN WARRIOR GHOST appears.
ICAN WARRIOR GHOST
You have done well Kyle Styloid.
KYLE
You’re the ghost of the Incan Priest who carved the potato.
ICAN WARRIOR GHOST
Actually I’m a warrior who was charged to look after the golden potato when—-it’s a pretty long story so yeah I’m the guy who carved it or whatever. Anyway never has anyone given up their taste buds to save the world. You’re a true hero.
KYLE
So what are you going to do her?
ICAN WARRIOR GHOST
Umami? Drag her into a level of hell where the great Puma Spirit will do nothing but force upon her the worst foods in the creation.
UMAMI
Nuuuh! Nuuuuh!
ICAN WARRIOR GHOST
And as a reward for your bravery I will restore your voice!
INCAN WARRIOR GHOST makes a magical gesture.
KYLE
(Irish Brogue.)
Sure in begore, I—
(Beat.)
I think you missed the mark by a wee bit, boy-o.
ICAN WARRIOR GHOST
Yeah well you White Men shouldn’t have gone around and slaughtered my people and razed our cities to the ground.
UMAMI
Guhuhsuh and cuhluhluhuhuhm—
ICAN WARRIOR GHOST
Exaclty. Now off to Hell with you.
ICAN WARRIOR GHOST hurls UMAMI off stage.
UMAMI
(Exiting.)
Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!
INCAN WARRIOR GHOST
What about you Kyle now that you are just an average taster?
KYLE
(Irish brogue.)
I figure I’d travel the world solving taste related crimes and—nah, I’m just kidding. Probably hang on the beach, maybe bum around Europe. My contract with Flavor Dome has a nice golden parachute. But first I’d do something no super taste can . . . eat at McDonalds.
ICAN WARRIOR GHOST
Godspeed, Kyle Styloid, Godspeed.
KYLE
Later.
KYLE exits, the INCAN WARRIOR watches him. He nods, and then wipes away a tear.
END OF PLAY
WHAT COULD BE GREATER THAN SEEING A GATOR?
An alligator farm in Florida. HUGS, the old man who runs it is watching over the pool. TOURIST enters.
TOURIST
You have gators?
HUGS
(Gestures to a sign.)
What’s the sign say?
Sign reads, “We have Gators.”
TOURIST
We have gators.
HUGS
Yup.
TOURIST
Where are they?
HUGS
There.
TOURIST
There? In the—
HUGS
Yup.
TOURIST
Can I see?
HUGS
You buy a ticket?
TOURIST
I have a credit card.
HUGS
Cash. Only.
TOURIST
But—
HUGS
Cash. Only.
TOURIST
Hmmm. How much?
HUGS
Ten.
TOURIST
Dollars?
HUGS
Euro.
TOUIST
Huh? Oh. You’re kidding.
HUGS
Am I?
TOURIST
Huh. Fine.
(Gets out wallet, pays.)
Here.
HUGS
Thanks.
TOURIST
Now what?
HUGS
Take a look see.
TOURIST goes over and looks in the pool. A moment, then he makes a noise.
HUGS
What?
TOURIST
It’s just . . .
HUGS
What?
TOURIST
I just don’t like being scammed.
HUGS
Scammed?
TOURIST
Yeah. That’s not an alligator.
HUGS
Oh? You think it’s a crocodile?
TOURIST
No.
HUGS
A caiman?
TOURIST
No.
HUGS
A gharial?
TOURIST
No.
HUGS
A false gharial?
TOURIST
No.
HUGS
A gila monster?
TOURIST
No.
HUGS
A komodo dragon?
TOURIST
No.
HUGS
What is it, then?
TOURIST
Abraham Lincoln.
HUGS
What?
ABRAHAM LINCOLN gets out of the pool, he’s dressed in his suit with stove-pipe hat but has a fake alligator snout tied on with string.
LINCOLN
I’m afraid he’s on to us Hugs.
HUGS
Yup.
LINCOLN
What now?
HUGS
The usual.
LINCOLN
Yes . . .
LINCOLN pulls out a samurai sword and stabs the TOURIST, he dies.
LINCOLN (cont.)
(Sheathing the sword.)
It is done.
HUGS
Yup.
LINCOLN
But now I must go, once samurai Lincoln has killed he must move on.
HUGS
You want your half of that fellow’s ten bucks?
LINCOLN
No. For I eat only hummingbird beaks and drink the sweet sweat of virgins. Samurai Lincoln is not of this earth, but through the dark magic of the Western Witch, Al’Beyau, I have—-Hugs are you listening?
No in fact he’s not, he’s fallen asleep.
LINCOLN (cont.)
Fine. My journey begins anew.
LINCOLN takes the ten dollars.
LINCOLN (cont.)
Worry world that my next stop will be you!
LINCOLN takes off the gator nose and throws it down. Makes some flashy samurai moves and then leaps away. HUGS begins to snore.
END OF PLAY
The Burn of Victory
A woman sits in a coffee shop. He has a mug in front of her. She reaches into a pocket takes out a bottle of hot sauce pours some in the coffee. She puts the bottle away. Her name is LUCY BLATT, and she has a problem. But we’ll get to that in a minute. The SELLER enters, he’s in a nice suit, a bit nervous, maybe a little sweaty. He carries a briefcase and speaks with a vague accent.
SELLER
Ms. Blatt?
LUCY
Lucy, please.
SELLER
Is it safe?
LUCY
My brother owns the place, coffee isn’t very good, so.
SELLER
So.
LUCY
I’ve never done this before.
SELLER
I have. Many times.
LUCY
Are you nervous?
SELLER
My blood is thick. I’m not used to the temperatures here.
LUCY
I see.
SELLER
You know what I am giving you is classified as a biological weapon. Did Big Bruno brief you on the—
LUCY
He did, thank you, dear.
SELLER
I’ve never sold one to a woman before.
LUCY
Oh?
SELLER
Most of the people who get into this thing are—
LUCY
I understand. In the contest circuit I’ve gone up against most of them. But. It’s got to end. Give me the pepper.
SELLER puts on a pair of rubber gloves, then opens the suitcase and takes out a small glass case inside is a hot pepper.
LUCY
It’s so . . . beautiful.
SELLER
The gulan baal. The hottest pepper in the world. Grown high in the mountains tended by blind monks. Once in their life they will taste one seed of the pepper. That’s what blinds them and gives them a vision quest for six days. It’s not games—
LUCY takes the pepper, smells it through the case.
SELLER
Wait—
LUCY
What?
SELLER
Most people can’t even smell it, or—
LUCY
What’s the Scorville heat unit for this?
SELLER
Eighteen million.
LUCY
That’s impossible. That would make it–
SELLER
Yes. As stronger than pure capsaicin.
LUCY
People think the jalapeño is hot, that’s only a two-thousand on the index. Nothing. The naga jolokia the “official hottest pepper” rates only one million. But . . . eighteen million.
SELLER
When you paid Big Bruno he said that—
LUCY
I know. I’m not stupid when it comes to peppers. I started young. My family had this Italian salad with those peppercinis. My uncle thought it’d be funny to give one to me. I must have been four or five. I hated my uncle he was always playing tricks. So when I bit it, I felt that rush of heat and vinegar, but I played it cool. Soon it became a family joke. At the Mexican restaurant they’d order me a bowl of jalapeños. For my birthday my mom would make stuffed peppers or chili rellenos. Somewhere along the line I got the taste. People in the hot sauce circuit talk about it. You go from just trying to impress people, to show them you can handle that burn in your mouth, to where you start craving it. You’re wandering the streets at night looking for blistering hot Buffalo wings or just sitting in the super market with a can of habaneras popping them into your mouth. It’s an addiction. When I found the hot sauce circuit . . . before then I felt like a freak. Like no one understood what it was like to crave that heat. Hot Sauce completion is easy. You and your competitor pick a number. Sauces are ranked one to ten. Then they place a bottle of the sauce in front of each of you; on the word go you chug, first one done wins. I only lost once. But even the tens don’t do it for me anymore. Nothing does. The crave just burns brighter, hotter.
(Beat. Look at the pepper.)
But this is special.
SELLER
What are you going to do with it?
LUCY
One seed sends you on a vision quest for a week. What do you think one bite will—
SELLER
That’s—
LUCY
It’s what it has to be. I can’t do it anymore the cravings, the blisters.
SELLER
Miss, you’re a beautiful—
LUCY
Kiss me.
SELLER
What?
LUCY
Watch.
LUCY leans across the table and kisses the SELLER. It lingers. They part. A moment, then the SELLER starts to cough, he rubs his lips—
LUCY (cont.)
Burns right?
SELLER
Hurts, yeah. Hold on.
SELLER Gets a zip lock bag with some bread in it, he eats it.
LUCY
You see, I’m a monster, I have Satan’s kiss.
SELLER
Still if you infuse with—
LUCY
I don’t want to let go of the heat, that’s why I’ll eat this pepper and then drift off into it. It will be glorious.
SELLER
All right then.
LUCY
Thank you.
SELLER
Sorry if I don’t say “your welcome.”
LUCY
If I weren’t a woman, would you feel so bad?
SELLER
I can’t say. But—
LUCY
Don’t let your dick get in the way of a pepper. It’ll burn it off.
SELLER
Fair enough.
SELLER exits. LUCY looks at the pepper.
END OF PLAY
HARK, HARK, WHERE THE LEMONS GROW
A small frontier cabin in the Ohio Territory. An old woman who has lost several husbands and most of her teeth sweeps the floor. This is VIRGINIA DARE. VIRGINIA DARE looks at the floor she’s been sweeping tosses down the broom.
VIRGINIA DARE
What’s the use? Fool on me fo’ thinking I can sweep up a dirt floor.
There’s a knock at the door. VIRGINIA DARE sits down.
VIRGINIA DARE
I’m coming!
A beat. Then another knock.
VIRGINIA DARE
I said I’m coming.
(Considers.)
Oh wait. Sorry! Sorry! Thought I was walking just then. Just come in!
LEMONSEED LARRY opens the door.
LEMONSEED LARRY
I can’t hear you through the door. Can I just come in?
VIRGINIA DARE
You don’t enter a lady’s house without permission! I could be doing the deplorable with a dontsaysit in my unmentionables! My meat hole could be whistling in the breeze! You don’t just come in!
LEMONSEED LARRY
So?
VIRGINIA DARE
Close the door, wait a moment, then come in again.
LEMONSEED LARRY
That’d be amenable?
VIRGINIA DARE
Rightly.
LEMONSEED LARRY
Fine then. Wait. How long should I wait?
VIRGINIA DARE
Standard etiquette . . . two pony farts.
LEMONSEED LARRY
Gotcha.
LEMONSEED LARRY closes the door. In two pony farts times LEMONSEED LARRY opens the door, enters.
LEMONSEED LARRY
It is I—
VIRGINIA DARE
Hello, Larry.
LEMONSEED LARRY
You ruined my introduction. Can’t I at least do my song?
VIRGINIA DARE
If you gotta.
LEMONSEED LARRY
Well . . . uh, um, ah, er—-
(Sings.)
O! I am Lemonseed Larry,
On my back seeds of lemons I carry!
I hand them to my fellow man
For some cash and a lemon plan.
Lemonseed Larry is my name!
VIRGINIA DARE
You done?
LEMONSEED LARRY
For now. But know woman that I may burst into songs detailing my great quest to sell lemon seeds to all the Americas at an inflated cost so that I can retire and live in a lemon castle in the swamps of Florida at a moments notice.
VIRGINIA
That sentence was poorly constructed and I feel asleep halfway through.
LEMONSEED LARRY
You’re awake now though—
VIRGINIA wakes up.
VIRGINIA
What? Help! No. Huh? Was I just talking in my sleep?
LEMONSEED LARRY
I don’t have time for this, I can’t sell seeds sitting sweetly softly saying something to you.
VIRGINIA
Yes about that, you may not want to go into town . . .
LEMONSEED LARRY
Oh I already went. They pelted me with garbage and called me names like Lemonass Larry and Yellowbellied sapsucker, or twatface. Which isn’t clever at all . . . rather hurtful. I have feelings after all—they may be segmented and citrus but I have them. I cried lemon-scented tears—
(Singing.)
What’s with all the hate?
Lemonseed Larry will not debate
That he ain’t filled with wit
He may look like–
VIRGINIA DARE
Is it drafty, I’m a bit cold.
VIRGINIA DARE opens a drawer takes out a bunch of terrible animal skins. She drapes a ratty skunk pelt on her shoulder.
VIRGINIA DARE (cont.)
You cold? I have some weasel socks or a rabbit muff?
LEMONSEED LARRY
Stop stalling Virginia, why do they hate me.
VIGINIA DARE
Larry—
LEMONSEED LARRY
Please, call me Lemonseed Larry, I’m trying to build the brand.
VIGINIA DARE
Well, Lemonseed Larry first you sell lemon seeds for ten silver dollars per three seeds. Or three colonial bronzes for a lemon fruit.
LEMONSEED LARRY
A small price to pay for a tree that will give you a power packed sour package for the rest of your life. Such goes my creedo:
(Nobly.)
Give a man a lemon and he’ll smile. Sell a man a lemon tree and he’ll give you money.
LEMONSEED LARRY takes out a lemon and holds it aloft.
VIRGINIA DARE
That’s all fines to dandy but you forgot to take in a few notes about the Ohio Territory. One: your lemon trees don’t grow here, so we just end up with dead seeds. Two: your advice to just eat the lemons . . . they are a bit sour.
LEMONSEED LARRY
Sour! There is no better taste than the refreshing bite of a lemon!
VIRGINIA
At least you should have told them to remove the peel!
LEMONSEED LARRY
The peel is the filet mignon of the lemon! Packed in that pith and peel are angel kisses. Why a lemon is such a great fruit taste it even improves your diction. Listen—
LEMONSEED LARRY takes a big bite of his lemon peel and all. His face contorts horribly. He puckers.
LEMONSEED LARRY
(Through the pucker.)
She sells sea whores down at her shell store.
VIRGINIA DARE
Look, Larry you don’t even like it! Furthers the more you advise people to squeeze the juice into their eyes to improve vision!
LEMONSEED LARRY
(Still recovering from his bite of lemon.)
It does. Makes you see like a bat.
VIRGINIA DARE
Worse off you know who came to town not three weeks after your first visit—
LEMONSEED LARRY
No! Don’t say his name!
VIRGINIA DARE
And he planted for free and gave out his apples on credit—
LEMONSEED LARRY
Don’t! Don’t—
VIRGINIA DARE
Johnny Appleseed!
LEMONSEED LARRY
That no good, good for nothing. He thinks he’s the badger’s breakfast just because he has such a crisp and refreshing fruit that makes great pies and improve lives—
VIRGINIA DARE
Yeah people love him and so do animals. Why he was whistling and a blue bird landed on his fingers while raccoons were doing his laundry in a stream.
LEMONSEED LARRY
That’s not such a big deal. I once got a blowjob from a slug.
VIRGINIA DARE
You can’t really compare apples to lemons I guess.
(Beat.)
No wait, you can, apples is better.
LEMONSEED LARRY
Yeah, yeah. It’s bad enough down in Florida I have to compete with Orangeseed Oren and then there’s that Cherrypit Charlie, Spiderplant-Clipping Clive—-but I started it. Don’t get me started on that sissy Truffle Terrance and Potsbelly his pig. A bit swishy that one. Not like Lavender-flower Lance he’s so manly with his chaps and mustache and love of opera and collection of miniature houses, he also works out a lot. Oh Lance . . . what am I saying I hate him! All of them! Botanical buffoons every one! It’s what happens when everyone just finds a plant that starts with the same letter as his name and goes off planting.
VIRGINIA DARE
Johnny Appleseed doesn’t have an alliterative name.
LEMONSEED LARRY
I bet he shits rainbows too. This is why I always say: When Life Gives You Lemons, SHUT UP AND EAT THEM!
VIRGINIA DARE
About that. I was working with some of the lemons you gave me and I made a drink out of them—
LEMONSEED LARRY
I know Lemon juice. Straight up!
VIRGINIA DARE
No, I added some water, some sugar, and . . . just look.
VIRGINIA DARE takes out a pitcher of lemonade. She pours him a glass, he drinks it.
LEMONSEED LARRY
Why this is delicious!
VIRGINIA DARE
I call it lemonade. I’m glad that—
LEMONSEED LARRY
Truly a refreshing beverage. WHICH IS WHY IT’S TERRIBLE! Lemons aren’t meant for such sweetness! Oh yes let’s just take things that taste bad and make them good!
VIRGINIA DARE
Well why not?
LEMONSEED LARRY
Why? Because the lord gave us mud and he gave us bacon! How can you enjoy the taste of bacon if someone doesn’t shove mud down your throat once in a while! Why to make food better is a slap in the face of the All-mighty! If he wanted lemons to be sweet he’d have done it himself! No! Lemonseed Larry exists in this world to sell lemon seeds at a high cost and to force sour fruit into people’s faces and trick them into rubbing lemon juice in their wounds. Some men are called by God for greatness, some are called to kill, I am called to lemonize! To sour this world!
LEMONSEED LARRY throws open the door.
LEMONSEED LARRY (cont.)
You hear that world! You hear that people of the Ohio Territory! None shall stop Lemonseed Larry until I’ve puckered you all! There’s nothing you can do about it! Noth—
A giant arm of a bear grabs LEMONSEED LARRY and pulls him off to the side starts tearing him to pieces.
LEMONSEED LARRY (O.S.)
Help a bear is eating me! Oooh! The pain! Why must my flesh taste so good! Oooh! I’m dying! It’s dragging my body into woods! I’m doomed! OOOOWWW. It’s chomping me. Dragging me awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay . . .
A beat.
VIRGINA DARE
Well that’s that.
VIRGINIA DARE goes to close the door but before she can a man in green bursts in—
SKUNKONION SAM
Madame I’m Skunkonion Sam and I have a stink that will change your life!
VIRGINIA DARE
(Sighs.)
You better be a good lay. Come in, come in.
END OF PLAY.