The Waiting Room A short comiramadamatragedy Copyright 1994 William H. Benzel The set is a waiting room. On the back wall, stage center, a closed door bears a sign, "The Doctor is out - Will return at." Below that is a clock face which once had moveable hands that could be arranged to display the anticipated time of return. The hands on this sign have fallen off. There is a wooden bench upon which, as the curtain rises and the house lights dim, can be seen the outlines of two men sitting. A coat rack stands next to the bench, the old, wooden type. It is built in the shape of a cross with three metal coat hooks on the horizontal bar, one at each end, the third in the center. A leaf dangles from each hook, suspended by an invisible thread. A slight breeze, provided by a small fan offstage, makes the leaves appear to quake slightly, like aspens. A small spotlight comes up slowly, illuminating the two men who appear to be in the midst of a heated discussion. They are both fiftyish, dressed in torn jeans and tie-dyed tee shirts which make the bowler hats they wear seem out of place and anachronistic. Mudhead is wrestling with his left shoe. Peorgie has a wooden flute tucked into his belt. MUDHEAD: C'mon, Peorge! Help me! I've gotta get these shoes off. PEORGIE: Aw, Mudhead, I don't want to touch those things. They're all smelly and filthy. I've told you every day, "If you want me to help you take off your shoes, you gotta be careful where you walk!" Why do you want to take them off, anyway. MUDHEAD: I've decided to turn them in, Peorge! You remember. PEORGIE: What? MUDHEAD: Shoes for industry, Peorge! Don'tcha remember? We talk about it every day while we're waiting. PEORGIE: Waiting? For what, Mudhead? MUDHEAD: I don't know, Peorge. You're the one who passed philosophy in high school. PEORGIE: (stands, paces nervously, goes stage left and looks out toward wings then goes stage right and looks out toward wings. returns to center, faces Mudhead and waits anxiously.) So I did, Mudhead. So I did. And just look where it's got me. MUDHEAD: (tries again to remove the stubborn left shoe.) C'mon, Peorge. Won't you please, please help me. PEORGIE: Ohhhhhh, allllllright! (approaches Mudhead, sniffs, retreats,) Go wipe them off on that mat first. (points toward stage left - Mudhead goes stage left and wipes his feet Peorgie goes stage right -- almost sighing -- aside) Lifelong relationships can be trying. Very trying! MUDHEAD: (returns to bench and sits down - raises his left leg. Peorgie grabs the shoe, they wiggle and jerk around and the shoe finally comes off.) Thanks, Peorge. Can we do the other one now? PEORGIE: I still don't get it, Mudhead. But,..... welllllllll,... OK! (They wrestle the other shoe from Mudhead's right foot. Mudhead holds his feet up and wiggles his toes, enjoying his new found freedom. Peorgie's nostrils flare in disgust as he sits down on the bench again.) Jeez, Mudhead! (as he speaks this line he looks up to the coat rack, then looks back toward Mudhead) Your feet smell worse than your shoes. How long have you been wearing those things. MUDHEAD: (reflectively) A long time, Peorge. Let's see... (thinks) It's been, ummmmm... (thinks some more - picks up a shoe, sniffs it, looks inside, shakes it, throws it to land downstage - thinks some more - repeats process with the other shoe) .. five hundred and ninety-four years! PEORGIE: That's impossible, Mudhead. MUDHEAD: (looks up at the coat rack for a moment, then turns back toward his friend and speaks thoughtfully and definitively.) No, Peorgie, it isn't! (sighs - long silence - a leaf falls from one of the ends of the crossbar and flutters slowly to the stage. The two men follow its path with their eyes.) PEORGIE: (after long silence -- sighs -- looks at Mudhead's shoes) What happens now, Mudhead? Will industry come for them in the dead of night and give you a blanket to keep you warm? MUDHEAD: Golly, Peorge. I never thought about that. I just saw the commercial on the.... PEORGIE: (cuts him off - speaks disgustedly) TV, Mudhead! I know! Haven't you learned to use the mute button yet? MUDHEAD: Aw, Peorge, dont'cha remember? Louise took my remote control. I was switching channels one night when we were makin' out on the couch in my living room. We were watchin' some old movie and a tampon commercial came on. I switched the channel real quick, 'cause Louise was sensitive about that, ya know, and the next channel was showing some National Geographic show about the Arctic. PEORGIE: So that's why she took away your remote? MUDHEAD: I guess you had to be there, Peorge. It went like this. (changes his voice to mime the event) FEMALE ANNOUNCER: You just got your period... (snaps his fingers - normal voice) click! MALE ANNOUNCER: And the seals move to higher ground. PEORGIE: I see what you mean, Mudhead. She must have been a bit embarassed. What did you do? MUDHEAD: (demonstrates - crosses his wrists so they are back to back and flaps the backs of his palms together as he rises and backs away - makes seal noises.) Wurrrrp! Wurrrrp! Wurrrrp! PEORGIE: And that's when she took your remote? MUDHEAD: (returns, sits down) Right! PEORGIE: (patiently) I understand, Mudhead. So tell me about the shoe commercial. MUDHEAD: Not much to tell, Peorge. They want ya to turn 'em in, that's all. PEORGIE: Well I'm keeping mine, Mudhead! I don't care what THEY want! Did it ever occur to you that THEY might be the enemy? MUDHEAD: Did it ever occur to you that THEY might be who we're waiting for? PEORGIE: Waiting for? MUDHEAD: Right, Peorge. Waiting fo.... PEORGIE: (cuts him off) Wait a mudhead, Minute. I DO remember something. That's it. We're waiting for the Electrician. MUDHEAD: (normal street voice pointing toward spotlight) No, we're not. See? The spotlight's working fine. He's already been and gone. PEORGIE: (normal street voice) Yeah, right. What do we do now? MUDHEAD: I think we better back up in the script and start this exchange again. (back in character) Did it ever occur to you that THEY might be who we're waiting for? PEORGIE: Waiting for? MUDHEAD: Right, Peorge. Waiting for. What do you think we're doing here. Why would we be in a waiting room if we weren't waiting? PEORGIE: (thinks) Jeez, Mudhead, (looks at the coat rack again, then back) I guess you're right. (sounds from offstage -- a ruckus -- running -- cracking of a whip) Listen, Mudhead, (acts surprised) there's somebody coming! (enter Ralph, barefoot, wearing leather pants, very tight across his buttocks, a leather jacket and a heavily studded collar and wristbands. The three are chained together with gigantic locks affixed to "D" rings. The chains are long enough to permit him to lower his hands to his lap and a long chain from the collar leads offstage as he enters. He also wears a bowler which appears out of place and anachronistic. He carries a suitcase and a paper bag in one hand and a small booklet in the other. As he moves across the stage Pozo enters, holding the free end of the chain in his left hand and the whip in his right. He is dressed in a dashing, though clashing combination of slightly mismatched houndstooth checked pants and jacket. The pants are held mid calf with elastic, turning them to baggy clam-diggers and below them, black motorcycle boots. On his head there is a beanie with a propeller on top.) POZO: Halt! (Ralph halts.) Turn! (Ralph turns facing the two on the bench.) Drop bags! (Ralph puts down the suitcase and paper bag.) Whip! (Ralph takes the whip from Pozo's hand.) Turn! (Ralph turns facing Pozo) Kneel! (Ralph kneels.) Wait! (Peorgie and Mudhead observe this action shuddering each time Pozo speaks a command, then surprised when Ralph obeys.) MUDHEAD: Well, they can't be who we're waiting for. PEORGIE: Why not, Mudhead? MUDHEAD: They're waiting, too. PEORGIE: (surprised) Ya know, Mudhead, that almost makes sense. MUDHEAD: Should we speak to them, Peorge? PEORGIE: (clears his throat, preparing to speak.) Uh... POZO: (points toward Ralph who kneels quietly before his master looking like Nipper) Be careful. He's unpredictable. He doesn't adapt to strangers. PEORGIE: (looks at Ralph and moves sideways on the bench to gain more distance. As he moves, he bumps into Mudhead and nudges him toward the end of the bench. Mudhead appears irritated, but moves farther from Ralph as well) Golly! What's that he's holding? POZO: Oh, that? It's my passport. PEORGIE: May I see your passport, please? POZO: Passport! (Ralph extends his hand toward Pozo.) To HIM, idiot! (Pozo points to Peorgie, Ralph extends his hand toward Peorgie who thinks for a moment, then cautiously takes the document from Ralph's hand. -- to Mudhead while Peorgie begins to examine the passport) He is an idiot, I tell you. A complete idiot! MUDHEAD: Can't he think? POZO: Oh, yes, he'll think if I tell him to. (Peorgie stands and walks around the two, looking closely, first at Pozo, then at Ralph. -- to Peorgie) Not too close I tell you. He's very unpredictable. MUDHEAD: Can he speak? POZO: He will speak if I command him to as well. PEORGIE: Excuse me, Mr. Bozo but.... POZO: (cuts him off) That's Pozo! With a "P!" PEORGIE: (looks at the passport, moves close to Pozo and relaxes, holds up passport where Pozo can see it, points to a place on the paper. normal street voice) Look at it, it's definitely a B. POZO: (relaxes, shoulder to shoulder with Peorgie -- normal street voice -- looks toward spotlight) Can we have a little more light please? (spotlight intensifies a bit) Just a little more. (spotlight intensifies slightly again) That oughta do it. Thank you! (turns attention back to Peorgie and points to the passport.) Is that better? It's definitely a "P!" PEORGIE: Hmmm! I guess you're right. (both assume their roles again and return to places - Peorgie clears his throat.) Excuse me Mr. Pozo but, this picture, well, it doesn't look like you at all. (gestures toward Ralph) Actually it looks a lot like him. (Ralph suddenly jerks the passport away from Peorgie who acts very surprised and quickly steps back a few paces.) POZO: See? I told you he's unpredicable. PEORGIE: You mean "unpredictable?" POZO: No, no, no....unpredicable. PEORGIE: But you said he was unpredictable... POZO: (cuts him off) I said... PEORGIE: (cuts him off) What does unpredicable mean, anyway? MUDHEAD: (steps forward) Unpredicable. Unable to be predicated. PEORGIE: What's that mean, Mudhead? MUDHEAD: How should I know, Peorge? You're the one who passed English in high school. PEORGIE: (thinks, speaks thoughtfully.) Hmmm...unable to be predicated, let's see, that means... MUDHEAD: (cuts him off) Golly, Peorge! That means he doesn't exist! PEORGIE: Well, gee, Mudhead, That's sort of true. He doesn't exist. He's just an extension of this, this, (gestures toward Pozo and speaks his name with great emphasis) Pozo over here. MUDHEAD: But Pozo said he could think, Peorge. And speak, too! PEORGIE: That's right, Mudhead! He did. (to Pozo) Tell him to think. POZO: Think, idiot! (Ralph thinks. As he engages in deep thought he cocks his head and looks at the coat rack. The leaf at the other end of the crossbar falls off and floats to the ground. Ralph observes this as do the other three who turn their attention completely to the event, all very pensive.) PEORGIE: (to Mudhead, almost whispering) Now we'll find out whether or not he exists. (to Pozo) Alright! Now tell him to speak! POZO: OK, my bubbly boys, but you're gonna find out I was right! (to Ralph) Speak! (Ralph looks down at his knees and then cocks his head to one side and looks back sad-eyed at his master.) Oh, alright! (to Peorgie, quietly, normal street voice) He likes to stand up when he makes the speech. It's not in the script but.... (back in character to Ralph) Stand! (Ralph stands, stage center directly behind Mudhead's shoes.) Now SPEAKKKKKK!!!!! RALPH: (long silence during which he breathes deeply and postures, opening his mouth acting as if nothing can come out of his throat. Finally his vocal cords come to life.) Given the existence as uttered forth in the public works of Proctor and Bergman of a personal Grid pro quoquoquo with white beard external to reality...... POZO: (cuts him off) Not that speech again, you ignorant twit! The other one. RALPH: (stops -- thinks -- continues, a faraway look in his eyes) ....that in the the light the light the light of the labors lost of Austin and Ossman that in the plains by the mountains by the seas (pauses -- looks confused - restarts) by the sea, yes, the sea all, all, all... POZO: (cuts him off again) Not that one either, you dunce! RALPH: and all the queer and pleasant strangers and..... POZO: (smiles at Ralph and grows patient, approaches him and pats his shoulder gently.) nunununo..... RALPH: and, and, the ordinal of the gremlin..... POZO: (quietly) Uh-uh.... RALPH: and the dead calm falling and the patroness dames..... POZO: (aside) Seems like nowadays Clancy can't even sing. (To Ralph, firmly again) No! RALPH: yes, where I put my nose in the stair,,,, POZO: (Losing his patience) Not that one either, (normal street voice) Look! Just do the one we rehearsed. We're running long. RALPH: (pauses -- eyes look focused --thinks -- breathes deeply and begins again.) Hiya, friends, Ralph Spoilsport here, Ralph Spoilsport Motors in the lovely city of Gilgamush (stops-clears throat) Golgamesh (stops, clears throat) Gilgatha. Let's take a look at this brand used used new used new new pair of used shoes. (moves forward, picks up Mudhead's shoes, sniffs them, shakes them and looks inside.) The industrial code paragraph http double-dot stroke stroke double-ya double-ya double-ya etcet says these shoes should retail for eighty-nine ninety-five but for you, friends, complete with fully aged doctor scholls air-cushion air-cushion air-cushion (as he stammers the faraway look returns) tennis shoes tennis shoes on on the banks of the Ohio Ohio in spite of the tennis shoes the labors abandoned the still abode of the stoned the stoned the stoned (now becoming progressively more relaxed) in a world I resume alas abandoned unfinished the flames the tennis shoes the doctor scholls air-cusion the stoned the stoned so calm so crimson sometimes like fire the air-cushions the tennis tennis tennis shoes yes the stoned the dead calm dead calm falling falling yes so dead so calm so calm .....so...calm......so...calm (as he finishes his eyes glaze over completely and he ends standing stock-still, center stage, gazing into the distance.) dead...calm. POZO: You see? I told you he was unpredictable. PEORGIE: You mean unpredicable? POZO: No. Unpredicatable. I told you so. MUDHEAD: Un-predi-KATE-able? POZO: Yes I told you. He doesn't exist! And neither does that word. MUDHEAD: No, I told YOU he doesn't exist! POZO: (thinks) So you did, Mudhead. (reflectively) So you did. And just look where it's got me. PEORGIE: (aside) Didn't I say that on the other side of the record? POZO: Bag! (Ralph picks up the suitcase and brings it to Pozo.) Not that one, you ignorant twit! (Ralph returns the suitcase to mark and brings the paper bag to Pozo who opens it and removes a box of chicken wings. He sits on the bench and begins to eat noisily and quickly, tossing the bones aside as he finishes each piece.) PEORGIE: Gosh, Mudhead. I'm really hungry. I was up all night calling places and nobody would deliver. D'ya think he'll share? MUDHEAD: I dunno, Peorge. (watches Pozo intently for a few seconds) He looks hungry. By the time you ask him there won't be anything left but the bones. PEORGIE: Excuse me, Mr. Pozo, are you gonna be needing those bones any more? POZO: (mumbling as he eats) Mmmrph! Gohedd! Take 'em! PEORGIE: (on hands and knees, collects the bones and sucks on them hungrily) Thank you, thank you. Mmmmm.(normal street voice) Where'd you get these? POZO: (normal street voice) Some place called Arnie's. They delivered! There's more backstage for after the show. A coupla liters of Old Filipino Creamy and some tubs of slaw too. Scoffin' time soon, man. Just hold out 'til curtain, OK? PEORGIE: Oh, alright, but I still think you should share the goodies on stage too. Even if it isn't in the script. (paces, then returns to character) POZO: (waits patiently while Peorgie gets his head straight, then stands and stretches, patting his belly and leting his belt out a notch.) Well, it's time to go. (voice becomes modulated gameshow host quality) Do you want those shoes, or would you like to trade them for the contents of my suitcase? (Peorgie and Mudhead deliberate this issue babbling at each other ad-lib. Ralph remains silent and still, gazing into space. Pozo whistles and sings in the background) Did you ever have to make up your mind.... MUDHEAD: (loudly, cutting hime off) They're MY shoes Peorge, so it's MY decision! PEORGIE: (patiently) OK, Mudhead but you really don't kn.... POZO: (cutting him off) Well? MUDHEAD: The suitcase! POZO: (to Ralph) You're lucky. This will lighten your load. Then again, it might not. Well, in any case, you're lucky. Shoes! (Ralph remains motionless, as if deaf. Pozo shakes him by the shoulders, slaps his face and Ralph emerges from the trance.) Shoes! (Ralph steps into the shoes. Pozo takes the free end of the chain in hand.) Whip! (Ralph hands the whip to Pozo.) Turn! (Ralph turns to face the left wing.) Forward! (Ralph moves forward, Pozo cracks the whip and is jerked offstage as the chain is pulled taut -- his voice trails off) Into the passssssstttttttt......... PEORGIE: (after a long silence) Jeez, Mudhead! (they both look at the coat rack) That was intense. MUDHEAD: Gosh, Peorge. Don'tcha wanna look in the suitcase. (Mudhead approaches the closed suitcase warily -- opens itfirst one catch, then the other -- pulls the lid up a bitpeeks in -shuts the lid again.) PEORGIE: What is it, Mudhead? (stands and moves toward the suitcase as if to open it -- Mudhead steps into his line, preventing him from reaching the suitcase.) MUDHEAD: Get one of your own, Peorge. Trade in YOUR shoes! PEORGIE: (sits on the bench and elevates his legs, showing the audience the soles of his feet as the soles of his shoes have been removed.) I don't know, Mudhead. These may not be worth very much. MUDHEAD: Gosh, Peorge! You actually did it. (points to the flute) Did you ever learn to play that thing? Peorgie takes the flute from his belt and begins to play a slow, thoughtful minor key African melody. He moves toward the coat rack and looks up toward the leaf as he plays. Mudhead moves to the suitcase and opens it . A helium-filled balloon rises from the suitcase and travels upward at an angle. Beneath the balloon trails a basket which has been painted with the image of a tall, thin, bearded man standing next to a baboon. As the balloon rises higher it crosses in front of the coat rack and the remaining leaf is captured by the basket. Mudhead moves toward the coat rack and stands next to Peorgie who continues to play the chant and both men gaze upward, watching pensively as the spotlight pins down onto the balloon and its payload, following them upward until they disappear behind the upper apron of the proscenium. house lights up curtain