an unimportant play for those who are interested
DRAFT #10
PDF VERSION HERE
written by Emilia White
CHARACTERS:
The Cards (two actors)
The Rabbit (the stage manager)
The Queen (the director)
A Marching Band
Sexy Mad Hatter Ushers
The Dramaturg (a Cheshire Cat puppet with a glowing mouth)
Man with the Peppa Pig Socks (an audience member/theater critic)
The Audience
*note: all roles can be played by any gender.
Alice: Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?
The Cheshire Cat: That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.
Alice: I don't much care where.
The Cheshire Cat: Then it doesn't much matter which way you go.
Alice: ...So long as I get somewhere.
The Cheshire Cat: Oh, you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
SCENE ONE
THE AUDIENCE is led into the theater by a group of SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS. They’re seated based on the groupings that they arrived in, and the setting appears to be a rather normal setting for a play. As THE AUDIENCE is seated, they are handed small towels.
Onstage, THE CARDS are smashing tomatoes at tables and putting them into a big boiling pot.
Continue until everyone is seated and the lights dim.
CARD 1: We’re the Cards.
CARD 2: We’re smashing all the tomatoes so there are no more to throw.
CARD 1: That way you can’t hate our play.
CARD 2: That way the Queen will be happy.
They continue smashing. The tomato juice gets everywhere, even squirting on the audience, who wipe themselves off with their towels.
CARD 2: We like smashing tomatoes.
CARD 1: It’s fun.
CARD 2: We do it for every performance.
CARD 1: Even though we secretly hate the Queen.
CARD 2: She is a bitch.
They look at each other and giggle.
Silence.
Smashing.
A trumpet sounds.
A red carpet rolls out. THE RABBIT enters on his hands and knees, dusting the red carpet. The tables are pulled to the sides, and THE CARDS line up like THE QUEEN’S cards. THE RABBIT sweeps up the tomato droppings, ineffectively. The pot of tomatoes spills in the corner, which THE CARDS awkwardly attempt to cover.
A scream is heard in the distance. All hup to. THE QUEEN enters. She is fancy and ugly. Her hair is obviously fake, as are her nails. She has an awkward twitch in her right face, and reeks authority. She follows the red carpet down to THE AUDIENCE and inspects them through a very large magnifying glass.
QUEEN: Hmph. Ugh. Same old, same old. Hmm. Well, hello. She responds to THE AUDIENCE accordingly.
THE RABBIT plays the trumpet sound, then clears his throat.
RABBIT: To whom it may concern, this is the part where the play officially begins, be it in the form of sport.
He reveals a large area of green astro turf grass, which has red roses that drip with red paint around it. THE RABBIT attempts to keep the roses dripping with fresh paint during the following sports event.
THE QUEEN sits on a fancy heart throne beside the grass from where she watches the sports match with delight. She munches on cherry tomatoes.
RABBIT: There are all kinds of sports in the world, including but not limited to soccer, football, baseball, basketball, hockey, tennis, wrestling, scuba diving, ice skating, arm wrestling.... and others... He clears his throat. In our particular case, we will indulge in the game of soft wrestling without equipment.
THE CARDS line up across from each other. THE RABBIT steps to the side.
RABBIT: Round one! He sounds the trumpet.
THE CARDS ‘soft’ wrestle. Perhaps an awkward wrestling that is limited by the awkward card costumes that they wear. They seem tired, but quasi-theatrical for THE QUEEN.
THE QUEEN watches, smiling occasionally and then frowning at other times. A pretend audience applause track alternates between clapping and booing. THE RABBIT adjusts the lights to create shadows of the players on the walls.
THE QUEEN interrupts.
QUEEN: Stop! You’re not doing it right! Try again, with more drama. Pretend you’re predators and you want to rip each other to shreds. Taste the blood on your teeth. Again!
THE RABBIT’s trumpet sounds and the action continues, this time with more fervor and torn clothing.
THE QUEEN interrupts again.
QUEEN: Stop! Now you’re being too ferocious without any emotion. Show some vulnerability! Shed a fucking tear, for god’s sake.
THE RABBIT’s trumpet sounds again and the action continues, this time with lots of over-dramatic sadness. THE CARDS appear to be losing their focus.
THE QUEEN interrupts a third time.
QUEEN: Can’t you act? Where is your fucking Stanislavsky technique? Adler? Grotowski? Spolin, for all I care. Anything. Show me your process! I’m losing my patience.
She grabs the trumpet from THE RABBIT, blows it, and sits back down again, fanning herself angrily.
THE DRAMATURG appears from behind THE QUEEN’S throne and perches on the edge of it.
DRAMATURG: If I may interject, I believe they need something more structured. Soft wrestling is too…. Unspecific.
QUEEN: Well then what are they supposed to do? This isn’t porn. It’s the theater.
DRAMATURG: I suggest Shakespeare. Back to the basics. Fencing will do nicely.
QUEEN: Rabbit! They need swords.
THE RABBIT scrambles to find something, eventually using two long paint brushes from the red roses, which drip during the following action.
QUEEN: Start again, from the Hamlet scene.
THE RABBIT blows the trumpet and THE CARDS recite Hamlet while fighting with the paintbrushes.
CARD 1: Come on, sir.
CARD 2: Come, my lord.
They play.
CARD 1: One.
CARD 2: No.
CARD 1: Judgment.
RABBIT: A hit, a very palpable hit.
CARD 1: Well; again.
THE RABBIT blows the trumpet for round two.
CARD 1: Another hit; what say you?
CARD 2: A touch, a touch, I do confess.
They play while THE QUEEN enthusiastically eats cherry tomatoes, enraptured in the game.
CARD 2: My lord, I’ll hit him now.
CARD 1: Come, for the third, you but dally;
I pray you, pass with your best violence;
I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
CARD 2: Say you so? Come on.
RABBIT: Nothing, neither way.
CARD 2: Have at you now!
CARD 2 wounds CARD 1; then in scuffling, they change paintbrushes, and CARD 1 wounds CARD 2.
THE QUEEN is delighted and gives a round of applause while they both suffer on the ground.
THE DRAMATURG disappears.
THE RABBIT blows a trumpet and removes the lights from the scene. THE CARDS struggle to get up.
QUEEN: I expect you to repeat the same thing tomorrow, but in country western style. Now get off my stage and give me the spotlight!
THE CARDS move out of the way of THE QUEEN, hovering back near the pot of tomatoes which they eat from hungrily. THE RABBIT shines a spotlight on THE QUEEN.
QUEEN: I am the Director, and I am also the Queen. I deserve a round of applause.
She waits for THE AUDIENCE to clap, which they do.
QUEEN: Thank you. It has taken me many years and a lot of hard work to gain the power that I now have. I am a powerful woman. I am the Director. I tell people what to do, and then you pay to see it.
THE RABBIT holds up an “applause” sign and the audience claps again.
QUEEN: Being a Queen and a Director at the same time takes a lot of patience. I have to be tough and I have to be able to tell people what I want all the time. Most people, especially women, have a hard time telling others what they want. Not me. I know what I want and I know how to get it. I will use force if I have to. The Queen is not nice for a reason. She is angry, and she deserves to be. That is why she has become a Director. Because the theatre is like war, and I am the dictator. The tomatoes are my ammunition, and the Cards are my warriors. Only they’re not warriors, they’re idiots.
To be honest, this is the first time I’ve seen them perform in person. All our rehearsals had to be shifted to Zoom because of COVID and it’s nearly impossible to get any sense of a play on Zoom. What is a Director to do? At least I have a Dramaturg (the cat) who offers some helpful advice, but not always.
All I really want is a good review in the New York Times! I want recognition for all my hard work. I want a bibliography that is three or more pages long. I want press releases, interviews on Glamour and W-Mag, fashionable portraits for Rolling Stone, an award or two, maybe even three, guest features on Conan and the Tonight Show. A personal stylist and glass skin. Facials every Friday and pedicures twice a week. A lamborghini. Vacations to Excellence Punta Cana and Plaza Palicanos. A personal cook! A personal trainer! A nutritionist! Someone to carry my heavy bags! Is that too much to ask for? All my hard work, and all I need is just one fucking theater critic who sees me. Really sees me. The deep down talent. Commitment to the theater as the highest form of true artistry. A vision like no other. Relentless skill and commitment to the art of the theater.
Silence.
THE RABBIT sounds the trumpet and the spotlight turns off. THE QUEEN returns to her throne.
RABBIT: The first intermission will now take place in the lobby while I suffer on my hands and knees to clean paint and tomato juice off the floor before the next scene. Please exit through the back doors. Thank you.
THE RABBIT pulls the curtain as a very loud and theatrical MARCHING BAND and group of SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS enter. Members of the MARCHING BAND surround THE AUDIENCE and use the sounds from their instruments to stand them up and gesture them out of the seating area, while the SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS coax them with chocolate-dripped strawberries. They hold the chocolate-dipped strawberries up like carrots on a string, leading THE AUDIENCE out of the theatre and into the lobby, where an abundance of more SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS lounge around waiting for their arrival. As THE AUDIENCE arrives in the lobby, they may become separated from each other, but that’s okay because they are being fed chocolate-dipped strawberries and it’s all very merry and loud.
SCENE TWO
In the lobby, as THE AUDIENCE eats chocolate-dipped strawberries and is perhaps a bit overwhelmed by loud music, they are suddenly interrupted by THE CARDS, who whisper loudly through loudspeakers.
CARD 1: This is the Cards speaking. We’re hijacking this play because it sucks and has no plot. We’re tired of being at the mercy of the Queen. She’s a bad director and a terrible actress. She should have become a lawyer.
CARD 2: We, on the other hand, are The Cards. We have creative minds and ambition for original work. We want to speak with our bodies and not our minds. We’re tired of pretending to be sad to prove that we know how to act. Who cares about acting?! We want to be angry like the Queen.
CARD 1: We want to experiment!
CARD 2: We want to do things that are upsetting to the audience!
CARD 1: We want to make you uncomfortable and force you to participate!
THE MARCHING BAND begins to play a much more experimental repertoire. The lights dim and THE CARDS point flashlights toward their faces, making butoh-esque facial expressions and then pointing their flashlights toward THE AUDIENCE, encouraging them to do the same. THE SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS hand out flashlights for THE AUDIENCE to point at each other as well, telling them to “follow the lead of THE CARDS, who are now the Directors.” THE CARDS lead THE AUDIENCE through a series of very experimental, avant-garde moves, perhaps forming some sort of line that they snake through the lobby in, adding an abundance of oversized soft sculpture “worms” to the mix. This is all to be devised with the performers and developed in collaboration with an audience. There should be strange movements, shadows on the walls, and interaction with the soft sculpture forms. THE SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS help to facilitate while also appearing to want to be the performers as well, although they’re not the best actors to be honest but who cares. It is all very strange and avant-garde and everyone is immersed in the moment (if not a bit uncomfortable) until they’re abruptly interrupted by THE RABBIT, who blows the trumpet to indicate that the intermission is over.
RABBIT: Scene Two will begin in the theater. Please proceed to your seats.
THE RABBIT quickly exits to take position on the stage.
THE CARDS sigh and start to clean up their mess as THE MARCHING BAND returns to its original upbeat music and helps THE SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS to move THE AUDIENCE back into the theater. They’re reseated, this time surrounded by different people than the ones that they came with.
SCENE THREE
As THE AUDIENCE is seated, THE RABBIT sits on the edge of the stage eating an apple. There are several already-eaten apple cores spread around him on the grass.
RABBIT: (refers to the red roses on the grass) The roses were supposed to be dry but instead they are wet because I am a technician, not a scenographer. I was hired to do the lights and instead I am the stage manager, the scenographer, the narrator, the props man, and the person who is supposed to bring some sort of meaning to this pointless play. We should have rehearsed more but everyone kept getting sick and having to quarantine and then we tried to do it on Zoom but the internet didn’t work and before we knew it we had to perform the play without even rehearsing it. So we hired a marching band and an over-eager group of model actor ushers who we found on Facebook and we also got some food to try to convince you that the intermission is just as exciting (if not more exciting) than the play itself.
The truth is that I am the only real actor in this theater. I am more than just a stage manager. I have Hamlet memorized backwards. I could perform Lucky’s monologue from Waiting for Godot while standing on my head! I am a master juggler, a black belt in taekwondo, I sing an impressive baritone, I play the piano and harmonica simultaneously, and I can perform in five different languages including the french version of pig latin. I tailored all of the costumes in the play as well. I composed the marching band songs and taught it to them IN A DAY. I have been working my fucking ass off for this play. So many sleepless nights. And now I am facing you, “THE AUDIENCE”, the people I have feared this entire time, and all I can think about is that I can’t believe that he (pointing to an audience member) wore Peppa Pig socks to the THEATER. Who the hell are you people? Why are you eating my chocolate dipped strawberries? What do I owe you? I am a simple Rabbit, just trying to get my job done on time so I can call it a wrap at the end of the night and return to my day job in the morning. I am done with the theater unless someone can convince me otherwise. I simply cannot do it anymore.
There’s an uncomfortable silence for a moment. A faint ticking clock slowly gets louder.
THE DRAMATURG appears, speaking modified text from Alice in Wonderland.
DRAMATURG: Who are you?
RABBIT: I - I hardly know, ma’am, just at present- at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.
DRAMATURG: What do you mean by that? Explain yourself!
RABBIT: I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, ma’am. Because I am not myself, you see.
DRAMATURG: I don’t see.
RABBIT: I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly. For I can’t understand it myself to begin with: and playing so many different roles in one play is very confusing.
DRAMATURG: It isn’t. You know how to do your role.
RABBIT: Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet, but when you have to paint all of the roses red, and then point the lighting in a certain way while playing a trumpet and telling the audience what to do, I should think you’ll feel it a little queer, won’t you?
DRAMATURG: Not a bit.
RABBIT: Well, perhaps your feelings may be different. All I know is, it would feel very queer to me.
DRAMATURG: You! Who are you?
RABBIT: I think you ought to tell me who you are first.
DRAMATURG: Why?
THE RABBIT turns away.
DRAMATURG: Come back!
THE RABBIT turns back.
DRAMATURG: Keep your temper.
RABBIT: Is that all?
DRAMATURG: No.
Pause.
DRAMATURG: So you think you’re changed, do you?
RABBIT: I’m afraid I am, ma’am. I can’t remember things as I used- and I don’t seem to enjoy any of it any more.
DRAMATURG: Can’t remember what things?
RABBIT: Well, I’ve tried to say Konstantin’s monologue from Chekhov’s “The Seagull” several times, but it came out quite different!
DRAMATURG: Repeat, “She loves me, she loves me not; she loves me, she…..”
THE RABBIT proceeds to recite a mixed-up, slightly modified version of Konstantin’s monologue from “The Seagull” by Anton Chekhov.
RABBIT: …loves me not; she loves me, she loves me not. You see? The Queen doesn't love me. Of course not! She wants to live, to love, to be the director, and here I am, twenty-five years old, a constant reminder that she is anything but the director. When I’m not here, she’s not a director at all, but when I am, she thinks that she is —and for that, she hates me. Besides, she knows I don’t accept the theater. She loves the theater, she thinks she is serving The Audience and The Cards and the sacred cause of art, while in my opinion, the theater of today is too much work. When the curtain goes up, and, in a room with three walls and artificial light, those queens and rabbits and cards, those mouths of holy art, show me how people eat, drink, love, walk about, and wear their jackets during the intermission; when from those banal scenes and phrases they try to fish out a moral—some little moral that is easily digestible and suitable for personal use; when, in a thousand variations, I am served the same thing over and over and over again—then I flee, as Maupassant fled from the Eiffel Tower, which made his brain reel with vulgarity.
DRAMATURG: That is not said right.
RABBIT: Not quite right, I’m afraid. Some of the words have got altered.
DRAMATURG: It is wrong from beginning to end.
Pause.
DRAMATURG: What role do you want to be?
RABBIT: Oh I’m not particular to any one, as long as I don’t have to do all of them at the same time.
DRAMATURG: Are you content now?
RABBIT: Well, I do like to act, I guess. And I enjoy changing the lighting too.
DRAMATURG: The lighting! Do you mean to say that you will turn me off?
RABBIT: Not at this moment! I wish theater people weren’t so easily offended!
DRAMATURG: You’ll get used to it in time.
Pause.
DRAMATURG: One side will make you become the actor, and the other side will make you become the lighting designer.
RABBIT: One side of what? The other side of what?
THE DRAMATURG slowly disappears during the following line:
DRAMATURG: Of the curtain.
Pause.
RABBIT: One side of the curtain will make me become the actor, and the other side will make me become the lighting designer….. That doesn’t make sense. What about all of the parts in the middle? How do I even differentiate one side from the other? It’s a poorly sewn curtain. Full of dust mites and lint! I don’t think anyone has ever bothered to wash it. Years and years of theatrical plays, fake blood, pretend wine, herbal cigarette smoke, all saturated in this grimy curtain and somehow The Dramaturg thinks I can extract my entire reason for doing theater in the first place from it? It doesn’t make any sense.
Pause.
RABBIT: And yet I am intrigued. I am at my breaking point. Does anyone have a cigarette? Maybe if I stare at the curtain long enough, something will happen.
A cigarette and lighter is thrown at THE RABBIT from the audience. He lights up and stares blankly at the curtain, not noticing when THE MARCHING BAND and SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS enter the scene.
SCENE FOUR
THE MARCHING BAND enters with the SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS, blowing several trumpets simultaneously.
USHER: Please join us in the lobby for tea and cookies and a break from whatever is happening in here.
THE MARCHING BAND herds the audience out of the theater and into the lobby, where they’re greeted by more SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS who hand out teacups and pour tea with cookies.
THE CARDS are in the center of the lobby. CARD 2 wears a dress made of light bulbs, similar to the Electric Dress by Atsuko Tanaka. CARD 1 sets up a midi module that’s connected to the light bulbs dress, and a microphone. While CARD 2 moves with abstract expressive gestures, CARD 1 programs the lighting changes through sound on the midi controller and with the microphone. The following monologue is conveyed through the microphone in an art noise sort of way.
CARD 2: We are Dada. We are art.
CARD 1: We are the new version of Cabaret Voltaire
CARD 2: and the avant garde.
CARD 1: I am Hugo Ball reincarnated.
There is a sound cue from CARD 2, and CARD 1 begins to recite poetry by Hugo Ball into the microphone.
CARD 1: jolifanto bambla ô falli bambla
grossiga m’pfa habla horem
égiga goramen
higo bloiko russula huju
hollaka hollala
anlogo bung
blago bung
blago bung
bosso fataka
ü üü ü
schampa wulla wussa ólobo
hej tatta gôrem
eschige zunbada
wulubu ssubudu uluw ssubudu
tumba ba- umf
kusagauma
ba - umf
While the performance takes place by THE CARDS, the SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS make a circle loosely around the performance, almost unnoticeable to the audience until they all simultaneously flick lights on their faces, freezing the sound and actions performed by THE CARDS.
The following text is recited by the SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS. Each recites the special skills and achievements they have as model/actors. As they continue to speak, what they say becomes more competitive until they’re arguing and wrestling. As they argue-wrestle, the lights start to flicker more and the experimental sound becomes more like screechy noise.
SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS:
I studied clown performance with (unknown name).
I can play the ukelele.
I was an understudy for (unknown name).
I model for Shein.
I was in a Doritos commercial.
I can do an excellent Scottish accent.
I was the lead in A High School Musical.
I’ve taken Acting for the Camera twice.
You probably recognize me as the Tide lady.
I deserve this role.
I’ve been in many thesis films by college students.
I’m learning to play the piano.
I can ride a tricycle.
I learn lines quickly.
I deserve this role.
I’m anorexic.
I can tap dance.
I was a nun in The Sound of Music.
I deserve this role.
I deserve this role.
I deserve this role.
No, I deserve this role.
No, I do!
THE SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS begin to throw tea and cookies at each other. As the food flies across the room, THE MARCHING BAND chimes in.
MARCHING BAND: What about us? We are also artists. We deserve to be here too! Do you think that we also didn’t go to music school? Here we are stuck playing the same boring marching band tune over and over, or getting stuck with experimental “sound art” that has no rhythm or melody whatsoever. It’s as if we never learned to play music in the first place!
THE MARCHING BAND begins to play their instruments angrily at each other while the food flies. THE CARDS come back to life and move with the sounds.
Everything slowly transitions to slow motion when THE DRAMATURG appears and speaks directly to the audience.
DRAMATURG: I don’t believe that this was the direction the play was supposed to go. Often, in moments of conflict, it’s the role of The Dramaturg (me) to set things back on track.
Pause.
DRAMATURG: I’m afraid I don’t know quite how to do that, though. I’m a pretty inexperienced dramaturg, to be honest (don’t tell The Queen). This is my first real show (I lied about my experience on my resume). Before this I was a firefighter, but I always loved theater and decided to study dramaturgy on Youtube. There are so many things you can learn on Youtube, including how to be a dramaturg. It’s a very accessible way of learning. It’s free, for one thing. And for another thing you can choose what parts you want to learn. As a firefighter I was just an anonymous person in a fire suit. As a dramaturg, I feel important. Like I’m psychic and can predict the future. Only, to tell you the truth, I can’t. I’m just pretending to be something that I’m not. Like everyone else in this play, really. It’s all a big lie. None of this is true! The actors, the director, even the ushers and marching band. They’re all lying to you. The only person I really trust in this play is The Rabbit, but I’m afraid I may have told him something wrong about the curtain and now he’s gone haywire too. Oh, what a mess I’ve made! Maybe I chose the wrong profession. But what else can I do? Firefighting was too much work. I’m terrible at customer service. I can’t work in a dentist’s office. I tried tele-marketing but the pay was terrible and I hate talking to strangers on the phone. It seemed like dramaturgy was my best option, but now I’m not so sure…. Look at the mess I’ve made!
THE DRAMATURG begins to disappear again as the slow motion fighting and noise comes back up to speed.
Suddenly, they’re interrupted by a loud scream. THE QUEEN enters angrily.
QUEEN: Where is the Rabbit? What is this? Why is there another intermission when we’re supposed to still be in the second act, completing the play? Did you not read the script? There’s no lightbulb costume in the script! This is a play! About the theater! And you’re here in the lobby doing performance art, or whatever the hell this is??!
THE QUEEN is appalled.
QUEEN: Does anyone care that I’ve spent years of sweat and blood training to be a true Director? And here we are, the opportunity of a lifetime, and my actors and ushers and musicians are doing performance art and wrestling in the lobby while the audience eats tea and cookies? This is ridiculous. Cards, come here immediately!
THE CARDS sheepishly obey, returning to THE QUEEN while their costume and technology items trail behind them.
QUEEN: Look how ridiculous you look! What is that, a costume? For what? New Year’s Eve? Come on now, this audience paid to see a play! They’re here to sit in the seats inside the theater, not mingle about while you inundate them with nonsense. If they wanted to see that, they could go to a political rally or spend Thanksgiving with family members that they hate. Come on now, the play must go on! Follow me backstage for a costume change.
THE CARDS follow THE QUEEN backstage with their heads down, technology items trailing behind them.
The SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS, now looking completely disheveled, begrudgingly guide the audience back into the theater. THE MARCHING BAND follows behind them with music that’s slightly out of tune.
SCENE FIVE
The stage is filled with smoke and THE RABBIT, chain-smoking, has pulled the curtain out across it. He’s attempting to string the curtain up to various places but it keeps falling down.
RABBIT: It doesn’t make sense! One side of the curtain will make you an actor, the other side will make you a lighting technician. But which side? Where? How?
The curtain falls down again, despite his attempts to hold it up. He finally asks a person from THE AUDIENCE to help.
RABBIT: Excuse me, if you could just hold this here please. Yes, just stand like that. That’s right. Just stay like that with your arms over your head. Sorry, I hope you’ve got a gym membership. Yes, just like that.
THE RABBIT begins to recruit other members of THE AUDIENCE to stand and hold the curtain up as well. THE RABBIT goes back and forth from either side trying to figure out exactly how to position it.
RABBIT: How am I supposed to know when I’ve set it the right way? There are no instructions or a manual. I could google it but my damn phone is out of battery again. I have no assistant (besides you) and I can’t even tell upright from upside down at this point. I have completely lost my mind! (to an audience member) Is it saying anything to you? Which is the right side?
Eventually he summons the other actors to help.
RABBIT: Cards! Queen! Please help me figure out which side is the right side. And also this man’s arms are getting tired. Please come help me!
THE CARDS and THE QUEEN enter back onto the stage, THE CARDS now in their normal costume attire.
QUEEN: What is the curtain doing across the stage? Shouldn’t we be in Act 3? Rabbit, call things to order!
RABBIT: The Dramaturg told me to find the right side of the curtain. (to an audience member) Maybe position your arms this way instead. Yes, like that. Hmmmmm….
CARD 1: No, they’re not holding it right. It has to be fierce.
CARD 2: Stronger! Faster!
QUEEN: Dramaturg! Come here at once.
THE DRAMATURG sheepishly appears.
DRAMATURG: You called, Queen?
QUEEN: Why are you telling the Rabbit to manhandle the curtain?
DRAMATURG: Who, me?
RABBIT: I’m not manhandling the curtain, he is!
THE RABBIT points at an audience member.
THE QUEEN approaches the audience member.
QUEEN: Who are you?
The audience members responds.
QUEEN: Why are you manhandling the curtain when you’re supposed to be sitting in the seats like a normal audience? Speak up!
The audience member answers.
QUEEN: Are you trying to hijack my play?
The audience member shrugs.
CARD 1: He’s not trying to hijack your dumb play, we are!
QUEEN: What?
CARD 2: That’s right! We’re trying to hijack your play because we hate it! We hate the theater!
QUEEN: You hate the theater? What are you talking about? You are standing in the theater right now!
CARD 1: Yes, but we’d rather be in a site-specific environment without a stage. This is all a facade!
QUEEN: And who is going to pay you for that? The grass?
CARD 2: We don’t care about money, we care about art!
QUEEN: Oh shut up already.
THE QUEEN returns to speaking with the audience member.
QUEEN: Did you pay to see this play?
The audience member nods.
QUEEN: Then why are you in the play? You’re not getting paid to perform, you’re a useless audience member! You’re paying us to perform! What do you do for a living?
The audience member responds and THE QUEEN improvises a skeptical response to their answer.
QUEEN: Interesting, but not interesting enough. Nothing is more interesting than the theater.
CARD 1: Oh shut up already.
CARD 2: We’re tired of your elitist theater banter.
CARD 1: We’re the only real artists in this room.
QUEEN: Artist schmartist.
They continue to argue until they’re interrupted by the MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS from the audience.
MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS: Will you all shut up already? My arms are getting tired and I no longer care about hiding who I am. I am not an audience member, I’m a theater critic! And I hate your play. Expect a bad review.
THE QUEEN nearly has a heart attack. THE CARDS catch her before she falls. THE DRAMATURG hides behind them, shivering in fear.
MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS: For the past hour, I have been sitting in your seats and eating your chocolate-covered strawberries and listening to you argue with each other about nothing. Who wrote the script for this performance? Where is the playwright? I demand to speak with her immediately.
RABBIT: Um, I’m sorry but we’re not exactly sure who the playwright is, actually.
MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS: What do you mean, you don’t know who the playwright is? Don’t you have a script?
RABBIT: Not exactly, no.
MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS: You mean to tell me that there are no written words to this play? How do you have a Dramaturg without a script? This is preposterous.
RABBIT: Well I asked for the script from the start of the production, but every time I asked the Queen kept redirecting the conversation to something else. I tried to pin the details down but as I said earlier on, most of our rehearsals were on Zoom and the tech was quite difficult. The connection was not very good, you see.
MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS: So what is the play supposed to be about, and why am I paying for it when there is no script?
RABBIT: Don’t ask me, ask the Queen! She’s the Director. I’m just a stage manager.
Everyone turns to face THE QUEEN, who is sweating profusely while being fanned by THE CARDS.
QUEEN: The playwright? You’re asking me for the playwright’s name? Well, there are many playwrights indeed. So many playwrights.
DRAMATURG: Yes, so many playwrights.
QUEEN: Thousands, in fact. Millions! You wouldn’t believe how many playwrights there are.
DRAMATURG: So many playwrights trying to write a play.
QUEEN: Too many playwrights trying to write a play.
DRAMATURG: Yes, too many.
QUEEN: Way too many.
DRAMATURG: Hundreds of thousands of millions of billions.
QUEEN: A ridiculous amount.
DRAMATURG: Yes, ridiculous.
MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS: And…?
QUEEN: And so…..
DRAMATURG: Yes, and so.
QUEEN: Will you shut up?
MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS: Can you get to the point already? This entire play has no point. Just tell me the fucking point already!
QUEEN: THERE IS NO PLAYWRIGHT! Okay? There is no playwright. We couldn’t afford to pay a playwright so we decided to make it up. Okay? I am still the Director! I am a skilled director with a lot of experience so don’t you dare try to tell me otherwise you greasy slime-infested theater critic. How dare you come to see my play and tell me it’s not good enough. Who do you think you are? All my life I have tiptoed around the taste of you sleazy theater critics and I HAVE HAD ENOUGH! I am a famous Director and I am damn good at it, no matter what you tell me. I will always be good, and this play is good because I SAID SO. Now get back in your seats and shut the hell up! I still have a final monologue before we proceed to the concluding dinner party in the lobby
THE AUDIENCE hesitates.
QUEEN: SIT DOWN!!!
THE MARCHING BAND half-heartedly stand up and play their off-tune instruments at the audience as they sit back down.
THE RABBIT takes the curtain from them as they go, wrapping it around himself until he is like a giant burrito in a curtain, and sits down distractedly.
THE CARDS return to smashing tomatoes quietly in the back while THE QUEEN takes center stage.
QUEEN: You know, before I was the Director or the Queen I was an actress. I was very good at it. I played Juliet in Romeo and Juliet. I was Blanche Dubois in a Streetcar Named Desire, and I was Emily in Our Town. I was very good at Emily, the best in fact. I am Emily. I have never left Emily. I will forever be Emily. And so I will recite her monologue now.
THE QUEEN takes a deep breath and the lights dim. THE RABBIT and THE CARDS point their flashlights at her, which turn into a spotlight. THE QUEEN recites Emily’s monologue from “Our Town” by Thornton Wilder.
QUEEN: Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I’m dead. You’re a grandmother, Mama. I married George Gibbs, Mama. Wally’s dead, too. Mama, his appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it – don’t you remember?
But, just for a moment now we’re all together. Mama, just for a moment we’re happy. Let’s look at one another.
I can’t. I can’t go on. It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another. I didn’t realize. All that was going on in life, and we never noticed. Take me back – up the hill – to my grave.
But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by, Grover’s Corners. Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking. And Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths. And sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.
Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? – every, every minute?
Pause.
THE RABBIT begins to laugh. He laughs so hard and begins rolling around on the floor in the curtain. He is hysterically laughing. As he laughs, THE CARDS begin to laugh too. Then THE MARCHING BAND and the SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS, and finally, THE QUEEN.
THE RABBIT continues to roll around the floor and the others surround him, pushing him around in the curtain as they laugh hysterically.
They laugh for a very long time, making the audience start to get uncomfortable.
THE RABBIT interrupts the laughter.
RABBIT: Oh my god I peed on the curtain! I was laughing so hard I peed on the curtain!
CARD 1: It’s probably fine, it’s probably been peed on before.
CARD 2: In another play, surely it has.
DRAMATURG: Yes, peeing on the curtain in plays is very common. More common than you would think. It’s probably a good luck charm, to pee on the curtain at the end of a play.
QUEEN: Have we reached the end of the play?
THE RABBIT perks up.
RABBIT: Well that’s a good question. Did we already do the beginning?
QUEEN: Yes, we did the beginning part I remember.
RABBIT: Good. And how about the middle:
CARD 1: Yes I remember the middle. Do you remember the middle part?
CARD 2: I do, we did the middle
RABBIT: Good. And how about the end? Have we gotten to the end yet?
QUEEN: That’s a good question.
MAN WITH THE PEPPA PIG SOCKS: Can you just make a decision already?
DRAMATURG: Please do not interrupt the performers when they are in the climax of the play. This is a very important moment in the theater. After the climax, there is a come-down and then things will end, eventually.
RABBIT: Yes, that would be very good to end. I do have to go to work in the morning, after all.
QUEEN: Yes, me too. We shall end. Do we agree that this is the ending?
CARD 1: I’m willing to agree that this is the ending as long is there is food.
QUEEN: But you already had food earlier, didn’t you?
CARD 2: Those were just the appetizers. Now we’re hungry for a real meal.
RABBIT: Didn’t the Sexy Mad Hatter Ushers mention that they would be making kebabs earlier? One is actually a chef in his day job, he just does modeling and occasional acting on the side for fun. He said he’d make kebabs tonight for anyone who is anorexic and needs to eat more.
QUEEN: That’s a good idea I could use some more food.
RABBIT: Me too. Checking his watch. I think I have time to eat before I go. I can’t get home too late, this is taking a very long time.
THE RABBIT blows on the trumpet.
RABBIT: To our dear audience, including the seedy theater critic with Peppa Pig socks. If you’ll please excuse us we will be in the lobby eating kabobs before we go home. You’re welcome to join us if you want. I hope you find the ending of our play satisfactory.
QUEEN: Of course they find it satisfactory! It’s the theater. People don’t have high hopes in the theater.
CARD 1: Of course they do! Which is why we’re serving kabobs in the lobby.
THE MARCHING BAND reappears with new enthusiasm and THE AUDIENCE is ushered into the lobby, where they’re greeted by the SEXY MAD HATTER USHERS who serve them kebabs and the real end of the play takes place.
SCENE SEVEN
The Lobby of the play has been turned into a dinner cabaret with tables set with kebabs and cocktails.
THE QUEEN interrupts the meal with a toast.
QUEEN: It is my responsibility as the Director of this play and the Queen to make a toast to health and longevity for everyone in the audience who took the time to come see our play. Without you we would be nothing, this play would be nothing.
RABBIT: A toast to the theater! For without it we would be nothing. And so, I have finally decided my true role in the play, which is to do Shakespeare in country western style before we all go home.
THE RABBIT performs the “All the World’s a Stage” monologue from William Shakespeare’s “As You Like It,” in country western style.
RABBIT: All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
THE RABBIT blows his trumpet.
THE MARCHING BAND begins to play again and everyone, in unison, says “THE END” while THE QUEEN holds up the applause sign.
THE END.