For Entertainment Purposes Only
a play by Marc Heiden and Rory Leahy


Characters:

Messenger #2 our hero. he is dressed in a plain red shirt and black pants
Maiden #3 our heroine. also simply dressed (as are all the extras)
Sage a somewhat older "wise man" character who acts as the extras' mentor. very
long-winded
Messenger #1 slightly arrogant, a friend of Messenger #2
Messenger #3 slightly meek, a friend of Messenger #2
Maiden #2 a ditzy type
Dancer #14 she wears tap shoes, very enthusiastic
Follower #18 a syncophantic type, drawn to charismatic lead characters and scornful of everyone else
Thug #22: a tough guy, friendly when he's not in character
Bartender experienced, friendly but unemotional
Neighbor #5 a non-descript, depressed man
Messenger #42 aka Rosencrantz
Messenger #43 aka Guildenstern
New Messenger a robot-like average-looking man
Offstage Voice fills the extras in on the essential details of their current scene. very authoritative but is usually somewhat disinterested when dealing with the extras

Play Characters:

from Macbeth by William Shakespeare
Macbeth a bold but troubled man, usurper of the Scottish throne
A Dead Old Man
A Ghost bloody, of around Macbeth's age
Three Witches
Macduff a Scottish nobleman
from The Blood of the Ages by Robert Renfield
Count Rudolfo a vampire
Jeannie Harker an extremely scantily-clad, gorgeous young woman
from Dance 'Til You Drop by the National American Record Co.
Ben a wholesome teenage boy from one "gang" (the "gangs" wear their own colors)
Natalie a wholesome teenage girl from a different "gang"
Several Teenagers can be played by extras. each in one of two "gangs"
from Plantation of Passion by George E. Jackson
Rhonda De Arnaud an attractive, aging Southern Belle
from Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
Vladimir a plain, distressed man
Estragon same as Vladimir
from Angels of the Trenches by Sir Laurence Zaudke
British General a grizzled vet, World War One-era
Johnny a fresh-faced young soldier with cockney accent
Several Soldiers can be played by extras; they only appear briefly, while charging
from Star Voyagers by Gene S. Williamson
Starship Captain wearing a gold shirt
Starship Doctor wearing a blue shirt
Starship Science Officer wearing a blue shirt
Security Ensigns can be played by extras; they wear red shirts
from Those Knutty Knights by Scott Dratch
Sir Percival a lecherous, hypocritical Knight of the Round Table
Sir Bedevere the same as Percival, only more so
from Everything Must Go by the Doctor and Messenger #2
Doctor a thin, manic, disturbing man
Three Mimes complete with face paint
from Othello by William Shakespeare
Othello an enraged, jealous husband
Iago a manipulative schemer
Desdemona a hapless, innocent wife
Lodovico an upright Venetian gentleman

Staging:
The play moves forward by mixing scenes from famous plays and made-up plays in which the characters from this play have a brief but momentarily important part with scenes inbetween roles for the characters. The only recurring location is the Waiting Room. It is a limbo-like world inhabited by the "extra" characters while they wait for their next "gig". There is an extremely rickety and haphazardly-constructed bar off to one side, which is sometimes attended by the Bartender when he's not in a scene himself; otherwise the Waiting Room is fairly plain. The other locations are all vignettes from plays, and each is described individually. Very little attention need be paid to detail of the scenes, though, only just enough to convey location. Conveying the right atmosphere for each of the play scenes is absolutely essential - the transitions between their very conflicting atmospheres need to be as sudden and sharp as possible. The disparate nature of moving from Shakesperean drama to schlocky horror to scifi, for example, needs to be emphasized rather than downplayed; the sheer abruptness of it is formative in regards to the psyches of the "extras", and the audience should receive no buffers or gentle transitions that the characters do not. During the scenes, the focus should be on the "dynamic" lead characters of each scene and their aggrandizing speeches and motions. The term "leads" is used to refer to the major characters of each play that the extras have brief scenes in; these "leads" in turn only have brief scenes in this play.

Because of the sheer size of the cast, it may very well be necessary to have actors and actresses playing multiple parts. Ideally, all the play "leads" and the major "extras" will be unique; if absolutely necessary, have a small pool of characters play the play "leads" in order to preserve the focus on the "extras" (i.e. Maiden #2 should not play Rhonda De Arnaud, because Messenger #2 would react differently to a character played by Maiden #2 than he would a genuine "lead"). The "leads" are of a separate species than the "extras", and the "extras" are very aware of this. Be mindful of the differences in meaning that are created by actors and actresses playing multiple parts: the "leads" are notable (ideally) for not being what the "extras" are: interchangeable. If you have someone playing multiple "leads", try to obscure the fact that it is the same person.

All of the "extras" should be dressed very plainly in order to fit into as many scenes as possible. There is no time to clothe them in complete costumes for each scene, and since so little note is taken of the "extras" by the "leads" it doesn't really matter. They may occasionally have a token of what their full costume may be on (like a helmet in the battle scene, etc). In contrast, the "leads" should be dressed as immaculately and close to character as possible. It is they who the playwrights and directors of the individual plays would pay attention to, and their treatment should reflect this.


(We open with an entirely dark stage. Foreboding music and the sound of a fierce storm play. The light flashes upon the following scenes for a split second each along with a roll of thunder. Spacially, they are evenly distributed throughout the stage: a murdered old man, a ghostly apparition, three evil witches cackling, an enraged nobleman swearing vengeance, and finally to the final scene, where the light remains: MACBETH paces alone in a room, looking distraught but determined)

MACB: To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all of our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to a dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but like a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

(Enter a MESSENGER)

MACB: Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
MESS: Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.
MACB: Well, say, sir.
MESS: As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.
MACB: Liar and slave!
MESS: Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
Within this three mile may you see it coming;
I say, a moving grove.
MACB: If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
Til famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.
I pull in resolution, and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
That lies like truth: "Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane; and now a wood
Comes towards Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
If this which he avouches does appear,
There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
I'gin to be a-weary of the sun,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.

(MACBETH seizes a sword and marches off; MESSENGER is left alone onstage)

MESS: Speak thy own tongue, sir, no desire have
I to wade into blood of consequence
belonging to action yours alone. I
Was around when the shit began a'down
That shall I admit, but only that glance
That hath wrote thy downfall as if it'were
A speak'n'spell.

(from offstage is heard MACBETH's voice: "OW! FUCK!" and Macduff's voice: "Villain! Thou art slain!")

MESS2: I suppose that marks the end of this one, then.
OFFSTAGE VOICE: A private detective in Transylvania.

(COUNT RUDOLFO stands in the corner)

COUNT: Come in, my inquisitive friend.
MESS: (approaches, holding a gun) I ain't your friend. Don't try any funny business, punk. I got a few questions for you and neither of us is going anywhere until I got some answers to go along with those questions.
COUNT: So bold, so angry. So...overconfident.
MESS: Yeah, I got six friends in here (indicating the gun) that say I got the upper hand, pal. Now why don't you start talking about where the hell Jeannie Harker is before I get graphic?
COUNT: Have you ever tasted evil, my friend? Have you ever felt it stand just beyond your reach, slyly smiling and mocking your every effort to lash out at it, only to find that it has swallowed you instead? Have you ever felt your beliefs, your very life slip out of you like water from a faucet?
MESS: Watch it, pal...
COUNT: You don't realize that you're just a mere pawn in this game where I am the cat and all of humanity the mice with which I play. Small, small human! The gun in your hand fills you with so many delusions. Do you know what my family name is?
MESS: Hey! If you think you can buy me off with a big name you're sadly mistaken, pal. I don't do business with sickos.
COUNT: (smiles) I did not kill Jeannie Harker. I gave her what you mortals only dream of...I granted her eternal life!

(JEANNIE HARKER enters, walking as though drugged, and
licks the COUNT's ear. She then lies down at his side)

MESS: Why, you dirty prevert! You...you sucked her into your deviated preversions too!
COUNT: That is not all of the sucking I plan to do tonight! You see, my mailbox may say "Rudolfo", but at heart...and at my dark, dark soul...I am DRACULA!

(COUNT lunges at MESSENGER, who fires the gun helplessly as
the COUNT bites his neck until MESSENGER falls, dead)

COUNT: (to JEANNIE) Come, darling, I am sure that your father will send more of these foolish mortal men after us. Let us feed and be ready!

(COUNT and JEANNIE exit; MESSENGER lies in a prone position,
dead, and once they are gone gets up slowly and rubs his neck)

MESS: Ouch. That was one of the worst death scenes I've ever had. "My dark, dark soul" indeed. What a moron.

(MESSENGER #3 enters)

MESS3: Hey, Messenger Number Two!
MESS2: (still rubbing his neck) Oh, hi there Messenger Number Three. What brings you here?
MESS3: The Plot, of course.
MESS2: Whenever there's a need for scenery with legs...
MESS3: Whenever there's a message about something significant to be delivered...
MESS2: Whenever large groups of people have to die for some dramatic point...
TOGETHER: We're your men! (high five)
MESS2: Any idea what our next scene is?
MESS3: Somewhere in the American 1950's is the time,
but the only thing for certain is that our speech must rhyme!
MESS2: Great, not two scenes ago I was mired in iambic pentameter
now everything I say sounds like words of a poetic amateur.
MESS3: So it goes.
MESS2: Heaven knows.

(loud 50's pop music starts up; for the rumble, use surf music. for the dance, use something simple and extremely cheesy. two groups of several TEENAGERS enter, amongst whom are DANCER #14, THUG #22, and MAIDEN #3. MESSENGER #2 joins one group, MESSENGER #3 joins another. The groups confront each other)

TEEN1: Hey, this is our dance hall!
We choose the tunes, out with you all!
TEEN2: I don't think so, not today!
We're gonna dance here, we're gonna do it our way!
MESS2: You better back off, I'll give you such a beating!
MESS3: Nuts to you, square! It's my fist you'll be meeting!

(they lunge at each other and fight; others to the same, in exaggerated
fashions, until BEN and NATALIE step inbetween the two groups)

BEN: Wait! We don't have to fight!
NAT: Ben and I love each other, and that's all right!
BEN: Love's the way! Dancing together is keen!
NAT: No need to hate! No need to be mean!

(everyone breaks into smiles and hugs each other)

BEN: Everybody do the Shrimp, it's the latest sensation!
NAT: (says the first part very quickly) You can buy it on Capitol Records for a quarter from your local supermarket, (takes a breath, then eagerly) it's sweeping the nation!

(everyone launches into a bizarre dance that involves holding arms locked with someone else above their heads and hopping up and down. In the middle, DANCER #14 does a solo and thrills the other teenagers. After a bit of dancing, BEN speaks)

BEN: Come on, everybody! To the streets!

(everyone rushes off, dancing, except for
MESSENGERS #2 and #3, DANCER #14, and MAIDEN #3)

DANCER14: That stunk.
MAID3: And that's no bunk.
MESS3: No hard feelings about the fight?
MESS2: Of course not. We just have to work with what we're given by the Gods. For a moment there, I thought we were going to be stuck in that whole thing, though...
DANCER14: The next scene has the two leads going to City Hall and somehow involving the mayor in this.
MESS3: Well, I'm sure it makes sense to the Gods and I don't mean to question their wisdom, but I can't say I'm depressed about missing it.
MAID3: Although if the Sage is playing a city council member when they arrive, that might be something to see.
MESS2: Hey, have you guys ever noticed...
MESS3: (leaving) I've got to be off. Heck of an epic battle scene up next for me.
MESS2: Bye, Messenger #3. So, ah...
DANCER14: (also leaving)...circus act...
MESS2: Bye, Dancer #14. Hey, Maiden #3...
MAID3: (also leaving) ...Puritan girl being accused of witchcraft...

(all are gone, save MESSENGER #2)

MESS2: (sighs, calls off in the direction of offstage) See you all in the Waiting Room. (sighs again) I don't want to be part of any of this. Who would? That poor king fellow lost the crown he fought so hard to gain and he lost his head with it. I, however, was immune to swinging swords and enraged sons by virtue of my sheer irrelevance. I still have my life, but what's that worth when I don't seem to be able to control it? I'm forced to wander through space and time, a part of other men's lives, but those men hardly seem to take notice of me because I always come and go so quickly. I always have a vague sense of what it is I'm supposed to do and say and then I do and say precisely that because I don't have any other choice. The words come out of my mouth no matter what other words swirl around in my mind. No real participation in my own life...not that I'm missing much if I'm to be spending half my time surrounded by schlocky murders and singing, dancing teenagers. (sighs again) Here I go with the angst and the questioning my existence and that whole routine. I have been spending too much time playing teenagers, I think.

(MESSENGER #2 looks up expectantly, wondering if the offstage voice will appear)

MESS2: Hmm, sounds like they're done with me for awhile. I wish I could go somewhere else but no matter which direction I turn I always find myself back in the Waiting Room.

(He relaxes and wanders into the Waiting Room. He stands quietly in the corner for awhile, watching a group of extras stand around the bar talking)

MAID2: Gods, it was awful! Messenger Number One and I were in one of those really weird, poorly lit scenes!
MESS1: Yes, and we were in it for almost the entire thing.
MAID2: Bodily fluids everywhere! I felt so icky!
BARTENDER: What was it about?
MAID2: Heroin-addicted werewolf farmers on Mars.
MESS1: I've never said "cock" so many times in a two-line part before in my existence.
MAID2: And I couldn't understand why I was playing a butch man in it!
MESS1: And I was a wearing a dress and being called a "Bitch slut whore" by a strange cacophony of voices.
SAGE: Well, you must take what parts the Gods give you.
ALL: We know, we know, "Act well your part, there all honor lies."
SAGE: (smiles) It bears repeating.
DANCER14: I was just in a great musical number. There was this group of lovable street urchins, see, and there was also a big-budget musical going on in a theater nearby...
FOLL18: (sincere) Ooh, a scene about a scene, now that's cutting-edge!
MESS1: (sarcastic) Yeah, only about one in every three scenes stumbles across that highway to brilliance. I think I've done that scene before. The whole cast gets a big ham dinner and...
THUG22: No, not ham you fat fuck! It was pork! The producer was a rich pig farmer. The competing director hired me to poison the cast's pork dinner. Geez.
DANCER14: Whatever. Who cares about the words? (laughs) Words! No, we want dancing, glitz, glamour! (does a quick tap dance) So anyways, since the entire cast was sick the director had no choice but to hire me and the rest of the street urchins, and we wowed the audience on opening night! As it turned out, the director fell in love with one of the female street urchins and she got to stay in the show within the show and the show itself. Became a star, I think.
BARTENDER: You know, that's interesting when you find out that a lead's been amongst you all along - and you never suspected a thing.

(MESSENGER #2 comes over)

MESS2: Hi, everybody.
SAGE: Messenger Number Two! How good to see you here, my friend!
BARTENDER: Come on over, have a drink.
MESS2: (surprised) Wait, how'd you pull that off?
BARTENDER: I was just kidding, actually. We've managed to bring back enough small items to build a bar, but I do think the leads would notice if someone tried to swipe a water pump.
MAID2: It's not as though we ever get thirsty here, anyways.
BARTENDER: Well, you know, it's like I've always said...(pauses) Oops, gotta go. I've gotta go do another gritty "businessman discovers he's an alcoholic and confronts his problem" scene.

(BARTENDER leaves)

MESS2: (smirking) "You're tearing the family apart!"
MESS1: (joining in) "It's got to stop!"
DANCER14: "What about the children? Hasn't anyone thought about the children?"
FOLL18: "You shouldn't drink alcoholic beverages anymore!"

(everyone is silent, glare at FOLLOWER #18)

MESS1: (disgusted) Oh, shut up, Follower Number Eighteen.
DANCER14: No sense of comic timing what-so-ever.
FOLL18: (quietly) I'm a messenger, just like you. Not a follower. A messenger.
MESS2: When was the last time you delivered a message that a hundred other people weren't delivering at the same time?
FOLL18: I don't need to answer that. I'm not like Thug Number Twenty-Two. I say stuff.
THUG22: I deliver messages too, ya little prick. I just use my fists instead of my mouth. It all depends on what the Gods got for ya to say.

(MESSENGER #3 enters with an arrow through his head)

MESS3: I really wish they would stop sending me to the Old West.
MAID2: Were you a Cowboy or an Indian?
MESS3: It's getting harder and harder to tell the difference anymore.
SAGE: You know that the Gods disapprove of bringing...(indicates arrow) souvenirs back with you.
MESS3: Oh, come on, you try getting one of these out of your head before you're whooshed back here.
MESS2: (to SAGE) May I ask you something, Sage?
SAGE: Why of course, my young friend.

(they step aside; everyone else gathers around MESSENGER #3
to try to help him get the arrow loose)

MESS2: Why am I called "Messenger Number Two"?
SAGE: Because of you and your friends' rash tendency to identify yourself with the part you are most often assigned. Unfortunate and destructive to a healthy sense of interchangeability, in my opinion.
MESS2: Well, that's not exactly what I was asking. Let me clarify: why am I called "Messenger" at all?
SAGE: Because that is who you are. What a strange question!
MESS2: Is that my name?
SAGE: No, it isn't. None of us have "names" as such, we have roles. We call each other by the roles we play most often. Your specialty is to be a messenger in some very important scenes.
MESS2: But why am I not called "Henry" or "Richard" like all of the kings I am forever being dispatched to serve?
SAGE: Because you are not Henry or Richard. Those men have their roles, and you have yours.
MESS2: But men called by those names always do things that are different from the things that you and I do. They are forever fighting and ruling and loving and hating and living! While I...I am forever...delivering messages.
SAGE: Each of us plays the role we are meant to play. It is as simple as that.
MESS2: (impatient) Yes, I know that of course, but what I ask is, to what end?
SAGE2: (mechanically) To serve the Plot.
MESS2: Yes, I know! All my life I have lived to serve the Plot. I have always served it with sincerity and duty but what no one has ever bothered to explain to me is why? Can you tell me? What is the Plot?
SAGE: (mechanically once again) The Plot is what we serve.
MESS2: (bopping his head backwards and forwards, mimicking the SAGE's responses in a slightly mocking way) We serve the Plot. The Plot is what we serve. A to Z and back to A again but no one ever mentions any of the letters in between. You haven't answered my question and no one else ever has either. What is the Plot and why do we serve it?
SAGE: I cannot answer that my friend. I only know that things are the way they are and that we must accept them.
MESS2: Doesn't it bother you after awhile that none of them ever listen to your prophecies? They're always trying to subvert them and escape them, and it always comes out disastrously in the end.
SAGE: No, why should it? They ask me Questions and I have been blessed with the proper Answers. I am not there to save them, mind you, merely to provide the Irony that a good Plot needs.
MESS2: Sage, do you remember...(thought gathering pause) Do you remember? Anything? Do you remember the beginning? (another pause) I mean, did anything come before this, or has it always been this way?
SAGE: (closing eyes, straining) The first thing I remember is the Chorus. A thousand voices saying the same words at the same time and I was one of them. I was neither the first voice nor the thousandth voice, but one of the many hundreds in between. (opening eyes again) And I have striven to be that ever since.
MESS2: (interested) What happened to the rest of the Chorus?
SAGE: I don't remember...we didn't know each other very well. There was no time for socializing because we were so immersed in the Plot, finding our part, and playing it together. We were such a a tight unit! You couldn't tell one of us from the other, offstage or on. We all knew our parts and played them with a grace unmatched by the best of your generation.
MESS2: But what changed? Where are all of the rest of the Chorus now?
SAGE: Oh, I expect they're...around. Gradually there grew to be fewer and fewer scenes featuring the Chorus, and the one you and your fellows assemble when called to do so now pales in comparison to the original. Some of us adapted and learned to play the new parts that the Gods gave to us, even as the Gods began to create your generation to fit their ever-changing needs. Oh, the wonder and wisdom of the Gods!
MESS2: (curious) What happened to the ones who didn't adapt?
SAGE: (slightly uncomfortable) I don't know. They faded, I suppose.
MESS2: You mean they died?
SAGE: Death, life, love, these are things for leads. Not us. But to cease service of the Plot is like a death for our kind.
MESS2: See, you speak of "death" but I've no idea how my life began, or even how long it has lasted so far. I don't know who my father or my mother were, though it certainly seems to be an important topic amongst the leads...but in my life, there has always just been me. And my appointed tasks. And the Plot.
SAGE: Well, if you want clarification so badly I can at least tell you that there is no one Plot as such. There are many little plots. And we must serve them all.
MESS2: (mounting frustration) Well, yes. I know all that, it's elementary. I mean, I've been doing this for...a really long time. What I want to know is where it's all going to, how it's all going to end!
SAGE: No one knows that.
MESS2: My existence is limited to two things. I slip in and out of scenes where I am worth nothing, delivering messages for and taking orders from people who are influencing the world around them in interesting ways while I'm not, and when that's done I sit in limbo with all of you waiting for my next scene. When I'm out there I speak with words that are not my own and I do things that I often don't particularly want to do, and when I'm in here all I do is stand around complaining about it! This is not the kind of role I want to play!
SAGE: But you don't have a choice. The Gods have made their choices as to who is to play what role and they made these choices long, long ago.
MESS2: The Gods, indeed. I've never met these gods who I hear so much about. Have you?
SAGE: No one has ever met the Gods! What has gotten in to you? They exist on the plane of creation. It is they who gave us life. And purpose.
MESS2: Purpose? Purpose? To be used and then disposed of like cattle?
SAGE: Well, if need be, though we rarely have call for agricultural scenes anymore.
MESS2: (rolls his eyes) That's not what I...oh, forget it. But I never agreed to any of this!
SAGE: Do the names of our divine pantheon, such as Euripides, Aristophanes, Moliere, Marlowe, Chekov, Ibsen, O'Neill, or Miller mean nothing to you?
MESS2: To be honest I no longer know what they mean to me.
SAGE: Or even the first amongst all, the greatest of the Gods, the almighty Shakespeare Himself?
MESS2: (hesitant) I...I don't know...
SAGE: When you defame your own existence, you defame Shakespeare Himself. And His wrath is a terrible one.
MESS2: (rebellious once more) Is that so? Is Shakespeare going to punish me for what I say? Send me to some sort of Hell? I'm already in Hell! A string puppet with no control over his own life, that's Hell!
SAGE: Oh, dear. I am sorry to see you beset my such confusion, but I am sure that it is all to help you get into character for your next scene. Have no fear, it is probably a good one with a teenager rebelling against his parents or some such fun. I would like to set you straight about a number of things but I must now go. It seems the King of Thebes is trying to solve a murder and he needs my help.

(the SAGE "whooshes" away)

MESS2: Damn it all! Every time I have the opportunity to start a real conversation with another human being in my own words, he has to go off on some "mission"! I'm so tired of this world. How can people as utterly inconsequential as we are be so busy all the time?

(MESSENGER #1 and MESSENGER #3 approach him)

MESS1: Cheer yourself, Messenger Number Two. This world isn't so horrible. We are all in the same state as you. Besides, you're a #2! You get plenty of the good assignments. (prideful tone in his voice) It's almost as good as being, say, a #1. But we're all friends here.
MESS3: Yes, we're friends. We're in it together.
MESS2: Friends? Is that what we all are? I would like to have friends but how can this "friendship" grow if...
MESS1: Sorry, have to go deliver water for some marathon runners...
MESS3: Whoops, an urban youth is going on trial for murder and I'm the court stenographer...

(both exit, leaving MESSENGER #2 alone onstage once more)

MESS2: (despondent) ...if everyone is always leaving? Popping in and out, saying a few words and leaving you alone again.
OFFSTAGE VOICE: A Plantation, a war, a drummer boy.
MESS2: (Sighs) Including me.

(a woman, RHONDA DE ARNAUD is sitting on a rocking chair,
sipping a glass of bourbon as MESSENGER #2 enters)

MESS2: Ma'am? You're Madame Rhonda De Arnaud?
RHONDA: (laughing with a thick Southern accent) I'm afraid so. Who might you
be in that handsome uniform, child? Are you in the infantry?
MESS2: (with pride) Yes'm. In the thirty fifth battalion. Defending the honor and liberty of the South from the damn Yankee invaders! (adds with slight embarassment) I'm the drummer boy.
RHONDA: Oh, that is simply delightful. I love music. My nigrahs sing all day long. They're just a singin' and a singin'. Their lives are happier than ours really. (sighs, faraway look in her eyes) I don't see how they could possibly want the burden of freedom...
MESS2: I've come with a message from Captain De Arnaud, ma'am.
RHONDA: My husband?
MESS2: Yes'm. The Captain says he's coming home within the week and he wants you to be all ready for him.
RHONDA: Honey lamb, I want you to come here. Come a little bit closer to me.
(he hesitantly takes a step forward) My husband is a frightfully angry and violent man. I don't know whatever I'd do if he were to return. (she touches MESSENGER #2's shoulders) I need someone, anyone, to help me.
MESS2: You want me to protect you from your husband ma'am?
RHONDA: I know you to be a young man of chivalry. Like a knight of the Round Table. (she begins to cling to him desperately) I'm so afraid. The Captain's rages...they take their toll...
MESS2: Ma'am...
RHONDA: My husband doesn't understand chivalry at all. He's a brute, without any trace of human feeling. When he sees me he takes what he wants from me and he tosses me aside like the trash. You're so tender looking. Please let me touch you.

(she kisses him on the mouth. he is wide-eyed and pulls back)

MESS2: Ma'am, I can't...I mean I have to get back to my regiment.
RHONDA: Please don't go, child, please, don't leave me alone again...

(she crumbles wretchedly as he whooshes away.
MESSENGER #2 is again alone onstage)

MESS2: That was quite odd. She...kissed me. It's very rare that one of Them takes note of me like that. I mean, what's the romantic attraction to scenery? No, but there's something unique about that kind of contact that I just can't put my finger on...I wish I could have gone on with her touching me like that but I always have to leave again in a moment, the scene moves on and I'm left behind. I wonder...I wonder.
OFFSTAGE VOICE: A messenger.
MESS2: Ah, perfect. That's just what I feel like doing right now. My area of expertise, after all. A chance to stretch my abilities. Wahoo.

(He enters a plain scene. VLADIMIR stands while ESTRAGON sits)

MESS2: Mister...(VLADIMIR turns) Mister Albert?
VLADIMIR: Off we go again. (pauses) Do you not recognize me?
MESS2: No sir. (aside) You know, I'm lying. I've done this scene before.
VLADIMIR: It wasn't you came yesterday?
MESS2: No sir. (aside) Lies!
VLADIMIR: This is your first time?
MESS2: Yes sir.
VLADIMIR: You have a message from Mister Godot?
MESS2: Yes sir.
VLADIMIR: He won't come this evening.
MESS2: No sir.
VLADIMIR: But he'll come tomorrow.
MESS2: Yes sir. (aside) I don't know that. He probably won't, judging by what I've gathered about this Plot.
VLADIMIR: Without fail?
MESS2: Yes sir.
VLADIMIR: What does he do, Mister Godot?
MESS2: He does nothing, sir. (aside) I seriously doubt he even exists!
VLADIMIR: Tell him that you saw me and...that you saw me.
MESS2: Yes sir.

(MESSENGER #2 whooshes out, is alone onstage)

MESS2: (sarcastically, calling off in the direction where VLADIMIR and ESTRAGON were) Yeah, sure, I'll tell him. Godot and I, we're like this (twists two fingers together).
What fools men are! Having faith in things they never see! Wasting their lives over plans and purposes that simply aren't real. I am...a man.

(He returns to the Waiting Room, where most of the regulars are gone but a few others are milling about. MESSENGER #2 approaches the Bar, behind which the BARTENDER stands. NEIGHBOR #5 is also there)

MESS2: Hi, Bartender. Scene go well?
BARTENDER: Oh, I've done that scene a thousand times. It had everything, the "give me another one, damn it", the "you've had too many", and I think he was hitting the classic "moment of clarity" right as the Plot left the bar.
MESS2: Glad bar scenes aren't my specialty. Do you ever get tired of all of it?
BARTENDER: I think I did once, but you get so used to there being nowhere else to go and not having any other choices that eventually you lose interest in being tired, I suppose.
MESS2: Are there really no other choices? There has to be a way out, doesn't there?
BARTENDER: Depends on who you listen to. Take Neighbor Number Five here...
NEIGHBOR5: Bernie! My name is BERNIE!
BARTENDER: Whatever. He says he used to be on the other side...
NEIGHBOR5: I was a Playwright, damn it!
BARTENDER: HEY! Watch your mouth! This may be a bar but we still show proper respect for the Gods in here, and I'll have none of your blasphemy under my roof!
NEIGHBOR5: (slightly intimidated) Sorry. But it's true! I wrote a play in five acts once. And I cast myself as the lead character! I was the auteur! It was a brilliant theatrical achievement, damn it...
BARTENDER: Which, of course, explains why you're here now...
NEIGHBOR5: It was! See, it was about a writer who suffered from writer's block...
MESS2: (interrupting) I hate scenes like that. They always go the same way and aren't nearly as clever as the Gods seem to think.
NEIGHBOR5: ...whenever this certain girl was around. It purported to demonstrate that human relationships are a tumultuous process!
MESS2: Another stunningly original insight into the human condition. It was probably a thinly veiled account of your own repressed lust for some woman.
BARTENDER: Please don't encourage his delusion...
MESS2: Let me guess. It had a nutty next-door neighbor who came in and ate your food, didn't it?
NEIGHBOR5: Well, yes...
MESS2: You sir, are a bad person, and I mean that.
NEIGHBOR5: And I was about to set about finding someone to produce the even more philosophically profound sequel when I found myself here, stuck playing bit parts as a nutty next-door neighbor for what feels like an eternity.
MESS2: You are deluded. I don't believe you for a second. How could any legitimate scene be that predictable and cliche'd? (NEIGHBOR #5 starts to speak) Never mind, I'd really rather not know. Anyone who'd conceive something like that belongs right here amongst us bits of movable scenery.
NEIGHBOR5: I would have gotten away with the whole thing if it wasn't for those meddling kids!
OFFSTAGE VOICE: The French front, a war, a young British soldier.
MESS2: Hmm. I have to go.

(He whooshes again, to a battlefield with two other soldiers who
should be played by MESSENGER #1 and MESSENGER #3)

MESS1: Today will see a glorious battle for merry ol' England, eh?
MESS2: Quite so, good chap. Today, we're going to push Jerry all the way back to the Rhine we are!
MESS3: Aye, that's the spirit! (an alarm is heard)
MESS1: That's the alarm! The enemy is stirring!
MESS2: To the trenches, lads!
MESS3: Let's show those barbarians what the finest sentry division in His Majesty's Royal Army can do! (the three soldiers adopt "trench" positions and begin firing at the enemy offstage)
MESS3: I'm hit! (falls over)
MESS2: You'll pay for that, you bloody German bastards! (he too falls)
MESS1: Right, and you're also going to pay for that! (he falls)

(all three soldiers lie near dead as JOHNNY and the
officious looking GENERAL come on stage)

JOHNNY: At least fifty were killed in this skirmish, General sir, it was awful bad.
GENERAL: Yes, awful bad indeed. (seems to address audience) Only together as a united island nation can we of the British Empire hope to repel the insidious Hun menace once again. That is why you must continue to send your young lads to the front, to avenge their schoolmates. And also why you must continue to buy war bonds, ration back on sugar and essential fruits and vegetables and why you must continue to say a prayer each and every night for our King and Queen that our forces may be victorious in their continuing battle to preserve our English liberty, our English pride, our English heritage and our English accents! It's going to be a long, bloody war but by God we're going to win it!
JOHNNY: Er, 'o you talkin' to, General sir?
GENERAL: Hm? Oh, no one, no one, no one at all.
JOHNNY: General, sir, one of the men, he's still alive, sir.
MESS2: (weakly) Unnnhhh...
GENERAL: Yes, lad, speak, lad.
MESS2: Unnnhhhh...
GENERAL (irritated) Enough with this bloody incoherent grunting, lad, I don't care if you are dying, you're still an English soldier! Now come on, do you have some final words of comfort for your poor mum back home?
MESS2: I regret I've but one life to give for the English crown...I gladly gave it...for glory... (begins to weakly sing) Rule...Britannia...Britannia rule...the waves... (dies)
GENERAL: (clutching him in his arms) Dear, dear boy! There will be ten thousand more like him before this day is out. Those Kraut bastards are going to bleed tonight! Why, the fire of our hearts will give them a scorching they'll not soon forget! Men! (withdraws sword) Charge!!!

(a group of men charge across the stage, screaming.
the GENERAL and JOHNNY stay where they are)

JOHNNY: General, sir, you're so brave and decisive, sir!
GENERAL: The men need an example, son, and I intend to show the Kaiser's lapdogs a thing or two about freedom today.
JOHNNY: Good golly, sir, where would we all be without you?

(sound of SOLDIERS screaming and dying offstage)

GENERAL: Johnny, just give thanks to the Lord our God that I am here to win this war.
JOHNNY: Why, we'd all be singing in German if it weren't for you, sir!
GENERAL: No fear of that, my young friend! Now let's stop in for some tea and a sandwich while I get back to work on my memoirs, shall we?

(GENERAL and JOHNNY walk off stage in the opposite direction from the enemy. Screams end, the two other MESSENGERS get up, wave, and walk off. MESSENGER #2 is once again alone onstage)

MESS2: Even my death has no consequence! I get shot in the heart and when the lights come back on I'm right as rain again. What kind of a life has no end? And what WAS that all about anyway? Why should I give a damn who wins some stupid, bloody war between England and Germany? They'd both just as gladly use me like an animal and send me out to die. What difference does it truly make to me which one of them it is? I'm just as pointlessly dead and tossed aside at the end of each scene. I'm only vaguely aware of what the word "England" means and yet I'm supposed to kill and bleed and die for that word? What kind of sense does that make?

(MESSENGER #2 finds himself an ensign in a futuristic environment. Also present are the CAPTAIN, SCIENCE OFFICER and DOCTOR, and two other red-shirted ensigns from amongst the extras)

OFFSTAGE VOICE: A security officer, an intergalactic starship.
MESS2: (aside) What the hell is this?
CAPTAIN: Captain's log, Stardate twenty four sixty point one. We have beamed down to the planet Gamma Phi Six where we are investigating the mysterious deaths of a number of colonists in the recent past.
SCIENCE OFFICER: Captain, once again I must question the logic of beaming down here to an environment where so many have died mysteriously without a more extensive sensor scan.
DOCTOR: You green-blooded, pointy-eared son of a bitch! People are dying down here and you don't give a damn do you?
SCIENCE OFFICER: On the contrary, Doctor, I merely want to minimize any risk of further deaths. Perhaps if you were in more control of your emotions you might be able to comprehend that simple fact.
CAPTAIN: Gentlemen, please, this petty bickering is getting us nowhere. (turning to MESSENGER #2) Ensign, are you picking up anything anomalous in your atmospheric scan?
MESS2: No sir, although this foliage is giving off some unusual readings.

(MESSENGER #2 reaches with his hand to examine a plant. It bites him fatally)

AOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!

(he keels over and dies once again. the DOCTOR rushes over to him)

DOCTOR: He's dead, Jim.
CAPTAIN: (rolling his eyes) Well that's a surprise...er...(realizes that the other ensigns are staring at him, suddenly melodramatic) That is a tragedy for which the dastardly cosmic force responsible will surely pay! We are not animals! We are men! (turns to address the sky, shaking his fist) MEN, do you hear me? HUMAN BEINGS! (turns back to crew, calmly) Alright, further in.

(everyone save MESSENGER #2 begins to exit. CAPTAIN turns
to speak to the DOCTOR and the SCIENCE OFFICER as they leave)

CAPTAIN: I tell you, these red shirts drop like flies.
SCIENCE OFFICER: Based on the sheer frequency of the event, I would think it safe to assume that it is somehow related to the fabric or the color of the shirts themselves.
DOCTOR: Don't get your pointy ears in a tizzy, we can always find more of them

(they exit, MESSENGER #2 whooshes back to the WAITING ROOM where the SAGE and several other extras are recounting the events of their recent scenes)

SAGE: It turned out that the murderer was the king himself!
MESS3: No!
SAGE: Yes, and the man he killed turned out to be the king's father!
MESS3: But then...
SAGE: Exactly! He married his own mother!
MESS3: Ah, the lives of these kings...
SAGE: (to MESSENGER #3) So how did your trial go, Messenger?
MESS3: It was sensational and gripping throughout. I thought the kid was going to go to jail for sure but his lawyer was bold and brilliant and by the end of the scene he was able to prove that my character had done it!
SAGE: That must have been quite a surprise for you.
MESS3: It certainly was. Sometimes it seems like you can get to the point where you think you really know yourself and then you find out that you don't know at all.

(they notice the arrival of MESSENGER #2)

SAGE: (to MESSENGER #2) And how have your last few scenes gone, Messenger?
MESS2: My last few scenes? They were mine?
MESS3: Ever the philosophical one, that Messenger Number Two.
MESS2: You imply that I have an individual identity, and that I'm not exactly like you, perfectly adaptable and perfectly disposable.
MESS3: Well, I didn't mean it as an insult...
MESS2: No, that's a great compliment actually! I want to be a unique individual, different from all others!
MESS3: (giving him a rather odd look) Well, if you say so. I think I'm going to go stand over there now.
SAGE: (to MESSENGER #2) You seem to be alienating your friends with radical statements like that, Messenger.
MESS2: If something has happened to alienate me from my "friends" I had nothing to do with it.
SAGE: Ah, that's the spirit. We're not responsible for creating our own lines, that's for the Gods to take care of.
MESS2: That is not at all what I meant...
SAGE: I see you continue to be troubled...
MESS2: Yes! I've died pointlessly several scenes in a row now and also...

(MAIDEN #3 enters the Waiting Room, MESSENGER #2 is suddenly distracted)

...something else...that was, um, on my mind...happened too...(looking across the stage) Say, is that Maiden Three over there?
SAGE: Why yes, I do believe it is.

(MESSENGER #2 walks past the SAGE to go see MAIDEN #3)

MAID3: Messenger Number Two!
MESS2: (nervously) Er, hello, Maiden Number Three.
MAID3 How have your scenes gone?
MESS2: Everyone asks me that.
MAID3: I believe it is said when there is nothing else to say.
MESS2: (saddened) So you've nothing to say to me?
MAID3: Well, I would like to have something to say to you. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what it is.
MESS2: But you would like to have something to say to me?
MAID3: Well, yes.
MESS2: And why is that?
MAID3: I don't know.
MESS2: Could it be...because you have feelings for me?
MAID3: Er, I don't think so. (MESSENGER#2 is saddened again) I mean, that is, I'm not sure.
MESS2: You aren't? I'm not sure either.
MAID3: I sometimes hear things about them, but I don't know exactly what feelings are.
MESS2: I know. I don't either exactly. But I think I know I have them. I want things. And when I don't get them it makes me feel things.
MAID3: What about when you do get them?
MESS2: Well, that hasn't really happened yet.
MAID3: What is it that you want?
MESS2: I'm not sure of that either. But I know I want something. Something different from this life that we lead. Something with a little more... pep.
MAID3: Pep?
MESS2: Pep. (pause) Maiden Number Three, have you ever been...kissed?
MAID3: (surprised at the question) Er, well yes I believe I have. After musical numbers and such. And Nobleman Number Eight and I did it at an elaborate eighteenth century ballroom dancing scene once.
MESS2: But have you ever been kissed by someone who wanted you for who you were?
MAID3: (surprised) No. Who among us has? It's not something that we are meant to do.
MESS2: Who says?
MAID3: Everyone!
MESS2: No, not everyone! I was just in a scene. And a woman kissed me for what seemed like no reason at all.
MAID3: Well, it was probably to serve the Plot, then. This person did not kiss you because it was her will or her desire.
MESS2: I know! But what would happen if someone did?

(after a moment's hesitation, MAIDEN #3 gets a curious look and on
impulse leans over and kisses him. He opens his eyes slightly stunned)

MAID3: (slowly, in awe) Something like that I guess.
MAID3: I...liked that.
MESS2: So did I.

(they do it again, other extras stare at the spectacle
somewhat frightened and disapprovingly)

MESS2: They are all watching us.
MAID3: Isn't that what people do? Watch us?
MESS: People watch us?
MAID3: I've always had the vague idea that I'm being watched. That the Gods, or perhaps others are watching us as the Plot unfolds. But that could just be my crazy idea.
MESS2: I think I like your crazy ideas. They're a bit like mine. But I wish we had more, I guess, privacy.
MAID3: (repeating the word, as if puzzled by it's meaning) Privacy. I don't think I've ever been alone with just one other person. Either here or on the other side.
MESS2: But wouldn't you like to be? (a quick dirty look at the other extras, who are gawking) Just you and I. We could talk more. And touch more. On our own.
MAID3: I...have to go. I have to lie along the shore of some lake giggling and looking beautiful!

(She whooshes out)

MESS2: Don't go! NO! WHY? Dammit, this is so futile! The moment I begin to make a connection it is taken away from me when she has to leave! By the time she comes back I'll probably have to go! This is NOT fair!

(SAGE approaches, puts his arm around MESSENGER #2's shoulder)

SAGE: No one ever said life was going to be fair, lad.
MESS2: (shaking him off) Yeah? No one said anything about it being so UNfair either! No one ever said fucking ANYTHING! And isn't that the fucking point?
SAGE: Calm down, lad. You've been agitated far beyond the point of reason.
MESS2: Oh, are you going to calm me? Tell me what I want to hear and send me back out there so I can do my job obediently and efficiently like every other drone in this place?
SAGE: Living in service of the Plot is your place.
MESS2: I'm tired about hearing what my minuscule place in the Plot is! I'm tired of being cannon fodder and a flunky for some high-on-himself king! Maybe I want to decide my own place in the Plot!
SAGE: Your quest for freedom will not succeed. I know this because I have tried!
MESS2: I guess you didn't try hard enough!
SAGE: The Gods are your masters and you will feel their wrath if you defy them!
MESS2: (quieting down) Perhaps so, but perhaps...
SAGE: Lad, I wish I could do something to ease your current troubles but...(he feels himself beginning to whoosh out) Well, surely there will be time later...(he exits)
MESS2: Hasn't he caught on yet? There's never time.

(scene shifts to MAIDENs #2 and #3 who are on the other
side of the stage, lying by a lakeshore)

MAID3: Is this scene ever going to get underway?
MAID2: Well, see, I was talking to Nobleman Number Four, who was invited to a party at King Arthur's by Messenger Number Six, who hardly even got the message there because Thug Number Twenty-Two said that he was in service of the bad guy who was trying to prevent the knights from gathering at King Arthur's because...
MAID3: (interrupting) Fascinating. Now is there a point to this or are you just making a series random noises?
MAID2: Well if you'd let me finish, there was a large dramatic meeting at King Arthur's that Maiden Number Fifteen said had gotten everyone all excited about going on a quest and also had a really great dance, and then Messenger Number Nine said that he heard that the King was going to have a meeting behind closed doors and then the knights were going to go off looking, so...
MAID3: So what you're saying is that it's going to be another couple minutes before we're on?
MAID2: I suppose that's it, yes.

(they are silent)

MAID2: Maiden Number Three, why were you doing that odd thing with that odd Messenger Number Two?
MAID3: I don't know. I guess it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And I liked doing it. It...was the right thing to do.
MAID2: But kissing in the Waiting Room, that's not right. That's...icky. And Messenger Number Two is of late so...weird. Going on about how he wants to be free. What's the point in that crazy talk? There are so many other things to be interested in. Like our scenes! And Noblemen!
MAID3: Doesn't the idea of being your own woman, able to express your own thoughts and perform your own actions hold any appeal for you whatsoever?
MAID2: Why would you want to do that when you can giggle and play? It's so much more fun than all that stressful "freedom" and "independence" stuff.
MAID3: Why do I spend time with you Maiden Two?
MAID2: Because you have to!
MAID3: Good point.
MAID2: You don't actually...like him do you? That's forbidden!
MAID3: (angrily) If it's forbidden then there's nothing I can do about it! It's what I...It's what I feel! I do feel! I feel and so does he! And there's nothing wrong with it! In fact there's nothing more right!
MAID2: But not with a fellow extra, and not if the Gods don't will it!
MAID3: I've been the fodder for lecherous lead characters for long enough, and they haven't given a damn who I was. I'm tired of that route. There's no lasting happiness in it, no worth... maybe it is forbidden to do so, but I'm going to act on what I truly feel.
MAID2: Shh! The scene is about to begin!
MAID3: Speaking of which...

(SIRs BEDEVERE and PERCIVAL enter the scene)

SIR BEDEVERE: Ah, wenches!
SIR PERCIVAL: Comely and nubile wenches, eh?
MAID2: (giggling) Good sirs, whence dost thou comest?
SIR BEDEVERE: Anywhere you like, darling!
SIR PERCIVAL: We are knights of the Round Table of Camelot!
SIR BEDEVERE: We are on a quest to find the Holy Grail!
MAID2: Oh, how exciting! (looks expectantly at MAIDEN #3)
MAID3: The cup of our Savior?
SIR PERCIVAL: Aye, 'tis the very one. Only we knights of virtue and purity can find it.
SIR BEDEVERE: And we feel we deserve a reward for our virtue and our purity. Such as a night of pleasure with a pair of lovely young harlots.

(both KNIGHTS begin to paw disgustingly at both MAIDENS. #2 acts receptive and sanguine, but #3 finds that she can pull away and express her true feelings)

MAID3: Leave me alone, you swine!
SIR BEDEVERE: Hey, come on baby, wanna feel my virtue?
MAID3: One cannot feel that which does not exist.
MAID2: (aside to MAIDEN #3) That's not in the script!
MAID3: I don't care. These "knights" are no more virtuous than dogs! They'll fill up the Holy Grail with wine and get themselves drunk off their asses! Not that they'll ever find it...it's just a convenient excuse. You expect me to be dazzled by these disgusting apes? I'm sick of this. I'll not surrender my love to them!
MAID2: Stop acting like you're so much better than everyone else! You're just scenery! He's almost a lead!
MAID3: If this...(gesturing) thing is a lead then maybe being a lead is overrated.
MAID2: There's nowhere else to go! What else are you going to do?
MAID3: Maybe there is a choice. Maybe there is somewhere to go, where someone who I want to be with right now is.
MAID2: But you don't have a choice! None of us do!
MAID3: You're wrong and I'll prove it. (she runs offstage)
MAID2: Bitch!
SIR BEDEVERE: Slut!
SIR PERCIVAL: Whore!
SIR BEDEVERE: (sniffles) Dirty low-down harlot, that's what she is.
SIR PERCIVAL: (comforting him) I know man, I know. You can have first turn with this lovely piece of ass. I'll wait.
MAID2: (giggles) Ooh!
SIR BEDEVERE: Thanks, man. That's what honor's all about.

(The scene returns to the WAITING ROOM. MESSENGER #2
stands despondently as FOLLOWER #18 comes over)

FOLL18: You shouldn't speak the way you do, you know.
MESS2: Oh, shut up. These are my lines and I'll write them any old way that I like.
FOLL18: They're not very good, are they? You've none of the social criticism and fervor of the god Bernard Shaw, the dazzling wordplay of the god Oscar Wilde, the...
MESS2: Well, they beat the crap out of your greatest hits. (imitating FOLLOWER #18) "Crucify him! Crucify him!"
FOLL18: Hey, stop it. It made sense at the time.
MESS2: "Give us Barabbas!" Yeah, that was a good one.
FOLL18: Look, if we set the other one free then how could the Plot get to the climactic scene with the crosses and the yelling, huh? That was drama! That was a story, let me tell you...
MESS2: Oh, screw drama! What about life? He could have done a lot of good had he lived. It didn't need to end like that. There are a lot of ways that it could have come out. You should have said something.
FOLL18: You know as well as I do that the Gods do not allow us to speak our own words when we're in scenes. Besides, if they'd been shouting one thing and I shouted another, it would have sounded...

(FOLLOWER #18 begins to whoosh away)

FOLL18: Wait! I was just about to make a point! I...(disappears)
MESS2: (smirks) Don't like it when it happens to you, now do you? Not that it gives me any particular satisfaction, though.

(two new figures enter the waiting room, both rather confused)

FIRST MAN: Er, are we in the right place?
SECOND MAN: Er, no I don't think we are. I do seem to remember this place though.
MESS2: Excuse me, do I know you people?
SECOND MAN: Well, we'd have to ask you that question wouldn't we?
FIRST MAN: Right, only you would know that.
MESS2: I'm not sure I know anything.
SECOND MAN: Oh, we have that problem a lot too.
MESS2: Well then who are you?
FIRST MAN: My name is Guildenstern and this is Rosencrantz.

(they confer briefly and then the FIRST MAN speaks, without embarrassment)

I'm sorry, his name is Guildenstern and I'm Rosencrantz.
GUILDENSTERN: (sighing) We've been doing that bit for years.
ROSENCRANTZ: Or has it been centuries?
GUILDENSTERN: Possibly decades?
MESS2: Excuse me, but why are you here? This is the Waiting Room for extras.
ROSENCRANTZ: Right, right. I remember now. I think we used to come here sometimes. Until...
GUILDENSTERN: Until what?
ROSENCRANTZ: Until we signed that exclusive contract with that Stoppard fellow.
GUILDENSTERN: Oh yes, the moment of liberation. I don't think it kept us from getting ourselves hung though.
ROSENCRANTZ: We were hung?
GUILDENSTERN: Oh, I don't know.
ROSENCRANTZ: You were engaging in idle speculation?
GUILDENSTERN: Harmless supposition.
ROSENCRANTZ: If indeed any speculation or supposition can rightfully said to be either idle or harmless in this mad world.
GUILDENSTERN: The King of England. He killed us.
ROSENCRANTZ: Then how is it that we are here?
GUILDENSTERN: Once again we appear to be manipulated by some higher force, to what end we know not.
MESS2: Gentlemen, please, I find what you say to be fascinating but, how is it that you are here?

(MESSENGERS #1 and #3 come over)

MESS1: Hey, weren't you guys Messengers Forty Two and Forty Three?
MESS3: I remember that. That was a long, long time ago. Where've you been?
MESS2: You left somehow! You gained your own individual identities on the outside!
ROSENCRANTZ: (shrugging) If you say so.
GUILDENSTERN: We have definitely wandered into the wrong place.
ROSENCRANTZ: We should likely be off then.

(they exit)

MESS2: Wait, don't go! (pause) Why do I keep bothering to say that?
MESS3: Those two were strange.
MESS2: Yes, they were! (eagerly) But somehow, I feel a kinship to them! They have filled me with a new feeling, one I don't think I've ever felt before. It could be...inspiration.
MESS1: Are you kidding? Those two could barely walk in a straight line! They probably botch every scene that they're in. Why would you want to be anything like them?
MESS2: Yes, but...they were...
MESS1: Hopeless fools?
MESS2: They were outside. They're...
MESS1: (interrupts) Lost?
MESS2: Yeah! They are! That's it! They don't have somewhere that they have to go! They're hopelessly, gloriously lost!
MESS3: Why on earth are you so excited about that?
MESS1: He has a point, Messenger Number Two. A couple of other messengers told me that they once delivered a message to a King saying that those two end up getting killed, anyways.
MESS2: So what? We can't go four scenes without getting meaninglessly slaughtered ourselves.
MESS3: (with an almost childlike awed fear) Yes, but when leads die...(looks around nervously) They don't come back. That's it. There isn't another scene waiting for them.
MESS2: (nervousness creeping back into his voice) But...how could that be? One scene follows another. That's how it goes, isn't it? The plot is advanced scene by scene.
MESS1: Think about it. You've been around for a few of those scenes where the Voice announces that the two leads go off and live "happily ever after", right?
MESS2: Well, yeah. Lots of them end like that.
MESS1: When was the last time you ever saw them living happily ever after, huh?
MESS2: Well, you're just supposed to assume...
MESS1: "Assume", nothing! You never see them again! They're gone! The Plot abandons them. They get their one moment of passion, one shot at center stage, and then it's over!
MESS2: (nervous) I don't believe that. So much sound, so much fury...they can't disappear! When they say they're in love, it lasts forever!
MESS1: It lasts until the Gods are done with them and move on to something else, then they're gone! Pyramus and Thisbe couldn't beat it! Romeo and Juliet couldn't, and neither can you and Maiden Number Three!
MESS2: (enraged) Shut up! SHUT UP! (lunges at MESSENGER #1, other extras quickly run over to restrain both of them)
MESS1: Everyone knows about you and her, Messenger Number Two! It won't work! It never does!
MESS2: Fuck you, Messenger Number One! You don't fucking know that! You don't fucking know!
MESS1: You're only bringing about your own end, you fool! The leads disappear and you will too! There is no happy ending, there's just darkness!
MESS2: SHUT UP!
MESS1: When the scene's over, the lights go up! Without the Gods we're nothing!
MESS2: What the hell do you think we are right now? Answer me that! One moment of real life is worth a thousand scenes in the background!
MESS1: You...
OFFSTAGE VOICE: A bomb threat at the Super Bowl.

(everyone takes note and begins to leave)

FOLL18: Wow, I wonder how they're going to stage this one! Sounds big! Sounds grand!
SAGE: This must be quite a scene. It's been awhile since we've had one that's called for everybody.
DANCER14: I just came back from a long scene about a man who sold his soul for ultimate power and now I have to back out again? I'll probably have to be a cheerleader now! (shaking her head) They call that silly jumping around "dancing"...
SAGE: (lecturing) Now now, specialties are all fine and good but we all know that versatility and interchangeability are the highest of all possible virtues. I enjoy playing a wise man but many of my roles are in other places, ranging from soldiers to teachers to invalids and beyond! There are no limits, thanks to the wondrous interchangeability with which we have been endowed by the Gods! Why, I remember a time...(SAGE is whooshed out)
DANCER14: (sarcastically) Shame he had to go before he could finish. I mean, it's always fun to hear long-winded speeches describing to me what I spend my time doing. (sighs)

(they exit; the stage is nearly empty save THUG #22 and MESSENGER #2)

THUG22: Hey, Messenger Number Two.
MESS2: (leaning against the wall in an exhausted crouch) Yeah, Thug Number Twenty-Two?
THUG22: I'm one of the bad guys in the next scene. I'll see if I can get Messenger Number One blown up for ya. Just don't sit too close to him, OK?
MESS2: (tired grin) Thanks, Thug Number Twenty-Two.
THUG2: Hey, no problem. We Two's gotta to stick together, ya know?
MESS2: Right, pal.

(he exits; MESSENGER #2 is alone onstage)

MESS2: (looking up) This is odd. I wonder why I haven't been called off yet?

(he gets up and walks towards the center of the stage,
waiting for the voice. It does not come)

MESS2: (shivering) I'm...cold. (holds himself, waits a few moments) Well? What now?

(the DOCTOR enters, bringing with him a large chair - rather like a dentist's - and places it at center stage as he talks. He walks in smooth, planned, circular movements and where not indicated he speaks off into space, to an imaginary audience)

DOCTOR: It would seem to be about that time, then. Everything should be where it is, but not everything will acknowledge where it really is and insists on these charades. (stops suddenly, addresses MESSENGER #2 directly) Charades! Do you believe? (MESSENGER #2 starts to speak, DOCTOR cuts him off and returns to speaking to imaginary space) Sometime it is here when it ought to be there, and sometimes there is not what it used to be. Never quite what you remembered it, but it's really very rude (stops again to address MESSENGER #2, with emphasis) very rude (continues on) to think that it ought to fit what you remember, seeing as how your memories are not real, they're not things, they're reflections. Mere reflections! Echoes, nothing more. They're not you at all.

(MESSENGER #2 has been turning around, trying to follow
the DOCTOR, and finds himself right in front of the chair)

DOCTOR: (directly to MESSENGER #2, poking him in the forehead backwards with each word until MESSENGER #2 falls into the chair) Not. You. At. All.
MESS2: (opens his mouth as if to speak, and then stops in shock) Um. Wait. I, uh, seem to have forgotten my line here.
DOCTOR: (the rest of his speech alternates between addressing MESSENGER #2 and the sky) Well, isn't that a pickle.
MESS2: I never forget my lines. I mean, someone just gives them to me...I don't even know where this scene is taking place. I'm sorry, I've botched everything...
DOCTOR: (furious) NO! DAMN IT! It's not a pickle! It's not a damn pickle at all!
MESS2: What?
DOCTOR: Can't you see past your own eyes? Of course not. You can't see that your eyes are failing. You sit inside them, growing daisies for a lie. Just like everyone else.
MESS2: (confidentially) Look, if you can just fill me in on a few details I'll improvise and we can finish this scene. It may not be what the Gods had in mind but...
DOCTOR: (screams in MESSENGER #2's face) GOOD DAY, SUNSHINE! (smacks MESSENGER #2, who is stunned. DOCTOR then, while whistling a pleasant tune, uses duct tape or something similar to strap MESSENGER #2's arms to the chair and his neck to the back)
MESS2: (nervous) Okay. Who are you? Are you one of the Gods and you're angry at me? I'm being punished for blasphemy or something?
DOCTOR: We're in a Play being written by an obscure French existentialist. He does not believe in imposing agendas and ideologies upon his characters like he feels the world has done to him, thus we are free here. (to the sky, loudly) CORRECTION! (normal) I am free. You, however, are not. (takes out a couple small, sharp dental-like instruments)
MESS2: (scared) What... what are you doing?
DOCTOR: Well, see, just between you and me, I think this guy's a talentless hack. I mean,
(jabs MESSENGER #2, who screams in pain) he doesn't seem to realize that his subconscious, which is reeling from his very religious upbringing, is imposing a message on this play.
MESS2: Which is?
DOCTOR: (now extremely manic) WRONG ANSWER! (hits MESSENGER #2, who yells, and forces his mouth open, reaching in with dental instruments) The author wants to demonstrate what happens when human beings are set free in a world without ideology, without ideas already waiting for them to swallow and gurgle about in their sluggish heads for the rest of their lives. (MESSENGER #2 screams in pain) Ooh, hit a soft spot, did I? Well, that's the problem with mouths. If you can't tell what's going to come out of them...(MESSENGER #2 screams again, in even more pain. DOCTOR speaks with extreme glee) Who knows what you're gonna find inside of 'em? (breaks down in laughter)
MESS2: Please...
DOCTOR: (suddenly enraged) BASTARD! (hits MESSENGER #2) This author has been nice enough to set your miscellaneous ass free in a play, to let you write your own lines, and you come up with crap like "Please"?!?!?! (he shoves MESSENGER #2's head back and returns to work on his mouth) Now, may I finish? (he jabs inside the mouth, MESSENGER #2 screams) Was that a yes? Let's go to the panel, shall we?

(THREE MIMES come onstage)

DOCTOR: Jury? (all give thumbs up) I CAN'T HEEEEAAAARRRR YOU! (all motion enthusiastically with their thumbs) A little bit louder, please, my ears just aren't what they used to be. (all three dance in a circle around the chair, jumping up and down and waving both thumbs in the air happily) Thank you, I think that's a yes. (they stop and smile) Now all three of you are trapped in a box. Can you do that one for me? (they smile, nod, and mime being trapped in a box) And guess what? Now there's a rabid, extremely hungry tiger in there with you.

(all three become genuinely petrified and scream as though being
eaten alive. They fall to the ground, dead)

DOCTOR: (enthusiastically, with his thumb up) Mimes! Now better than ever! And disposable, too. Do you like disposable products, my trapped and bleeding friend? The capitalist fiends that our author so hates quite like disposable products. That's good, solid business strategy. Come up with a product that everyone needs and will frequently run out of. And for those difficult, oh-so-tricky questions...well, who doesn't need a mime every once in awhile? (rummages around a bit in MESSENGER #2's mouth, who screams again) Ahh, I knew it. You're a capitalist at heart too, aren't you? Gods. We're so disappointing to our creator. (contemplative, steps back) So, so disappointing.
MESS2: This is my blood running down my face...(screams in fear) My blood! Not some character's! Mine! My blood!
DOCTOR: Oh, yes of course it is. Couldn't get that sheer vibrancy otherwise, you know? It's so hard these days. Bloody minimalists. Now, where was I? Ah. So here we are in a blank world: just you, me, and those three stiffs. We have nothing imposed upon us, we're free to be ourselves in a way that the poor author feels he was never able to. Except that deep, deep down his subconscious is ticking. It's saying, "Hey, I don't think that they can live without God, without religion, without society telling them what to do. A free human being is a lost and savage human being who will turn destructive, violent, and hateful." And that's what this play has become about. Freedom...unchecked! Me running rampant over you.
MESS2: But why you? We're both free! You said so!
DOCTOR: Nah, but see, kid, I'm the lead character here. You're just supporting cast.
MESS2: Why?
DOCTOR: I'm a god-damn DOCTOR, kid! My medical degree gives me power over bringing tiny little babies into the world and sending grotty old people off into the next one. I am the defining force of birth and death, and what's more important than those two things? Huh? What the hell do you do? Deliver messages? Of course I'm the lead character here. You're powerless, kid. You're at the back of the line. You had one shot at freedom, and as it turned out you just weren't interesting enough to take control of the scene. Don't blame yourself, though. I'm pretty fascinating, after all. I've just decided that I studied at Harvard, am descended from a line of kings, travel quite frequently to all corners of the globe, read all the best books, and you know what? It's all true! Because I said so! I love this! With every bit of pain I deliver unto you
(stabs MESSENGER #2 suddenly and sharply, who screams) I bring the author one step closer to a nervous breakdown. He can't endure these conflicting mental states, conscious vs. subconscious, up vs. down, no reconciliation at all for the little guy. And I'm liking it! Why, against his wishes, I just titled our little play here!
MESS2: (struggling to get words out) What did you title it?
DOCTOR: "Everything Must Go."
MESS2: (struggling even harder) You were wrong.
DOCTOR: Why? I rather like it, and besides it's my show now.
MESS2: (still struggling) No. You were wrong about birth and death.
DOCTOR: Oh, and how so, pray tell?
MESS2: They're not the most important bits.
DOCTOR: (furious) SHUT UP! Are you insane? What tops life and death for sheer extremity, for sheer relevance? They're the extremes, everything else is just inbetween! That's what everyone cares about, whether they're at one end or the other. I control whether you're onstage or off, buddy! You just do messages. I do death!
MESS2: (with renewed strength) No. I do love.
DOCTOR: (genuinely surprised) Love? It's a biochemically-induced hallucination. It's just mind tricks. I don't...I don't follow you at all. I mean, it's pretty irrelevant next to a heart attack.
MESS2: You'd desperately want that to be true, wouldn't you? Then the coldness and emptiness inside you wouldn't be quite so cold because the outside would look like your inside and you wouldn't have to be reminded of what a sorry incomplete bastard you are.
DOCTOR: (shaking his head) If you think that flower-power is going to get you out of this chair, kid, then think something else. Resistance is all fine and good, but that's just weak.
MESS2: No. It matters. You can talk all you want about biochemical hallucinations, but I know that's not all there is to it because what I feel inside of me wasn't put there by some hack playwright or hollow gods. They never found me interesting enough to put anything there. I'm 100% natural Florida orange, baby. My freedom isn't the result of some half assed literary experiment, it is WHO I AM and I don't care whether or not a playwright or a god or anyone recognizes that, and they obviously don't because they don't give a damn, but it's still there damn it. It's not all about whether you're onstage or not. Real lead characters know that it's about something more, because anyone can just be here but not everyone does something. You're not a lead at all. You never figured out the difference between us and the leads because you were too immersed in your new-found power. You're just a second-rate extra from a thousand boring hospital scenes who has an ego that got too large for his own good. We're both extras. We slip in and out of other people's lives like ghosts, comprising the background of their most important moments. We're always here. The important part isn't whether you're alive or dead. I've been floating in limbo with all the other extras long enough to know that. The important part is that searing moment of desperation when you risk it all in order to touch someone else. It's no good living without emotion. It's pointless, it's blank paper. It's being in the background, it's being irrelevant. It's like not even existing. I love Maiden Number Three! And you...
DOCTOR: So you expect me to keel over and die because I'm not in love with some bimbo?
MESS2: No. I expect you to keel over and die because it becomes all to clear to you exactly what you're missing and exactly what you can never do. You may be powerful here, but this is as far as it goes. It can't go anywhere else. You're a black hole inside. You feel alienated from everything and everyone around you. You feel no highs, you feel no lows. You're a creamy mediocrity. Yesterday is no different from today which is no different from tomorrow for you. You're alone. You touch your own body and feel isolated from it. You are alone, and you lack the ability to be together. So you will always be alone.
DOCTOR: (screams) Shut up! I'll cut you!
MESS2: And you will always be empty, and never anything else.
DOCTOR: (adopting a John Wayne voice) Well, fuck you for being right, pilgrim.

(the DOCTOR kills himself and falls onstage, dead. MESSENGER #2 stares in awe)

MESS2: Wow.

(MAIDEN #3 enters, tentatively)

MAID3: (as MESSENGER #2 starts to speak) Shh. You're bleeding all over the place. Let me get you loose from this.
MESS2: How did you get here?
MAID3: I don't know. I felt you needed me to be here, so I came.
MESS2: But this isn't your scene.
MAID3: It is now. (unties his bonds, pulls him up and kisses him) From now on, your scenes are my scenes and mine are yours.
MESS2: But it isn't that simple...
MAID3: It can be! I don't know exactly what happened...but you could feel the shift. It was in the middle of a scene, and suddenly the words that had been written for me to speak could no longer possibly come out of my mouth. I was and am free.
MESS2: You mean you didn't say your lines? You spoke your own?
MAID3: I did.
MESS2: I've tried and failed to pull that off a thousand times.
MAID3: So have I. This time it worked. I think it was because of you.
MESS2: Because of us both. (he kisses her)
MAID3: What happened to him? (indicating DOCTOR)
MESS2: It dawned on him that there's more to being a lead than having the spotlight follow you, and he couldn't take it. Self-awareness is hell sometimes.
OFFSTAGE VOICE: A sixteenth century Mediterranean island, an attendant to the Lady Desdemona.
MAID3: I've got to go. Put your arms around me. (he does) Hold on to me tight. Never let me go.
MESS2: I promise you I won't.

(OTHELLO and IAGO standing alone together. MESSENGER #s 1, 2 and 3 take their places as diplomats following the lead of LODOVICO; DESDEMONA enters with three ATTENDANTS: MAIDENS #2 & 3 and DANCER #14)

LOD: How does the good Lieutenant Cassio?
IAGO: He lives, sir.
DES: Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord an unkind breach; but you shall make all well.
LOD: There's division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?
DES: A most unhappy one: I would do much to atone them for the love I bear to Cassio.
OTH: Fire and Brimstone!
MESS2: (aside to MESSENGER #1) What the hell is going on?
MESS1: Shh! This is a silent role!
MESS2: Yeah, yeah, whatever, but why's he so mad?
MESS1: If you needed to know then the Voice would have told you. Now shut up before they notice!
OTH: Devil! (strikes DESDEMONA)
DES: I have not deserved this!
LOD: My lord...make her amends, she weeps!
OTH: O Devil, Devil! If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, each drop she falls would prove a crocodile!
MESS2: (stepping into the fray) Oh, I get it! You think she's being unfaithful to you don't you?
MESS1: Messenger Number Two!
LOD: What are you talking about, he's part of a deputation from the Duke, not a messenger!
MESS3: (impulsively) Clueless lead!
MESS2: You're damn right he's clueless, like the most of the rest of them.
MESS1: (to MESSENGER #3) Don't you start.
MESS3: (cracking up) Why not? Messenger Number Two already wrecked the scene, we might as well have fun with it. (yells) I'm thirsty! Pay attention to me!
DANCER14: (joining in) Riot! Riot! Riot!
OTH: What is the meaning of this outrage?
MAID3: No, what is the meaning of this outrage? (gesturing towards tearful DESDEMONA)
OTH: I am Othello, the Moor of Venice and I...
MESS2: What you are, sir, is a dumbass! I know all about you! You're some otherwise great man with some kind of "tragic flaw" that's gonna bring you down right? Like doubt or ambition or, let me guess, jealousy? So what if you're a lead and I'm an extra? Your fate is just as predetermined as mine. I'm tired being a pawn for people like you while your foolish egos run rampant over innocents, ruining your own lives and everyone else's!
IAGO: Stop listening to this strange person!
OTH: Quiet, Iago!
MESS2: That guy, Iago is probably manipulating you into thinking your wife is cheating on you, am I right?
OTH: There is proper evidence to that effect I've seen with my own eyes!
MESS2: My ass, you have! It's probably something incredibly flimsy like a misplaced piece of toilet paper! Look into HER eyes and you'll see that she's completely innocent! You've done her wrong not the other way around!
IAGO: The madman doesn't know what he's talking about! He is probably in the employ of... (OTHELLO gestures for him to be silent)
MAID3: He's not a madman! He's more sane than any of you! Those are the eyes of a woman deeply in love and deeply afraid that her love is going to be torn apart by hands of idiotic, petty jealousy. Many think you to be a great man, sir. Prove them worthy of that esteem and put aside hollow mortal rage in favor of boundless immortal love.
DANCER14: Or perhaps you could just do a little dance and make a little love?
MESS3: You could even go so far as to get down tonight!
DANCER14: Whoa, watch it cowboy.
MESS1: (frantic) Shut up! We're all going to be wiped out of existence any moment now.
MAID2: Oh, the Gods are going to punish us...they're going to make me old, I just know it...
OTH: (starts to speak, then stops) How odd, the natural rhythm to my speech and the speech of those around me seems to have been lost. Stressed and unstressed mingle, the number of syllables in each sentence runs free...Lord, what possibilities could this lead us to?
MESS3: Cats and dogs living together, a bat and a pig...
IAGO: (frantic) Their strange speech patterns are evidence of their witchcraft against you, sir!
OTH: No. They may be strange, and they may be way out of their place in speaking like this, but they do speak wisely.
IAGO: No my lord, they deceive you!
OTH: No, you deceive me! Desdemona would never betray me! I have been caught like the most simple-minded of knaves in a trap: the trap of a moment's rage. They speak the truth. Darling Desdemona, I have been a right bastard.
DES: My lord and love you are forgiven!

(they passionately embrace as do MESSENGER #2 and MAIDEN #3)

MESS1: Oh, you're really going to get it this time!
MAID2: You've completely changed the direction of this Plot. He was supposed to murder her!
MAID3: We did them a favor!
MESS1: But you've doubtless angered the Gods!

(everything suddenly stops; as if on a tape being rewound, everyone stiffly
returns to their original positions and the scene begins again from the top)

LOD: How does the good Lieutenant Cassio?
IAGO: He lives, sir.
MESS3: The scene's begun again.
MESS1: Ah! Praise be to the Gods, a reprieve!
MAID3: Othello, don't hit her!
MESS1: Oh, no, not again...
MESS2: She's innocent!
MESS3: I like peas!

(rewind effect takes place again)

LOD: How does the good...
MESS2: Stop!
DANCER14: Hammer time!
MAID3: Don't let the thought even enter your mind!
MESS1: What the hell is with you people? We're extras, damnit! We have simple jobs to do and we do them! The Gods...
MESS2: The Gods are wankers!
MAID2: (on the verge of fainting) Blasphemy gives you wrinkles!
MAID3: Forget what the Sage told you. Free your minds! You are free beings and you can love and hate and live if you want to!
MESS2: The Gods are wankers! The Gods are wankers!

(everything else disappears as MESSENGER #2 and
MAIDEN #3 find themselves onstage alone)

MESS2: All of them! Wankers, every single...(stops suddenly and looks around)
MAID3: Where are we?
MESS2: I don't know. There doesn't seem to be anything here. This isn't the Waiting Room, but I don't see any scenes going on anywhere nearby either.
MAID3: It doesn't feel like we're being punished.
MESS2: No, if anything I think we're being rewarded.
MAID3: What do you think happened?
MESS2: The scene probably just restarted with another messenger and another maiden in our places.
MAID3: (smiling) Quieter ones.
MESS2: (laughs) I've never seen Messenger #3 get that worked up. How did we do it, though? It wasn't enough just to want it, because I've been wanting out for a long time. It had to be something else.
MAID3: I think it was. We both stopped wanting to change and actually went ahead and changed. Most people don't get past that point of desire. The Gods always used us like interchangeable parts, to deliver the lines that said nothing about ourselves but were necessary to provide a hint of a background or to move the Plot along. And then, suddenly, they found that they couldn't use us interchangeably anymore. We're too different from the other extras. So...
MESS2: Off with our heads...
MAID3: and the rest of our bodies.
MESS2: Sage was a fool. Why should the Gods be mad at us and punish us? They never cared enough to intervene in our lives, only to use us in passing. They can't even tell us apart. Whichever god was creating that scene probably barely noticed that anything was going on. They can always just reach back into the Waiting Room and grab someone else, because as long as there are scenes there will be people too frightened to stand up in them, too scared to leave the background.
MAID3: One thing still worries me though.
MESS2: What's that?
MAID3: Couldn't it be that the Gods are paying much more attention than we think? If we are so much different from the others, then maybe the Gods put us here so they can watch us. Just to see what we do on our own.
MESS2: Even if that's true, I don't think it really matters. The point is that we are on our own. I think we should stop questioning our lives and start living them. Although, I'm not sure what lives we are going to be living. (looking around) There's nothing here.
MAID3: (with great enthusiasm) Then we'll create something! Just you and me! It may be a lot easier having a Voice to give you your directions but I'd still rather make up my own.
MESS2: Whatever world I'm going to face I'm glad I have you around to face it with.
MAID3: (smiling) Even if that world happens to be a completely blank sheet of paper, with no gods to direct us and no one to watch?
MESS2: Even if. (looking around) Where shall we start? How about...a giant potato, right over there.
MAID3: Where are we going to find a potato?
MESS2: Isn't it obvious? We'll just have to put on a show about potatoes.
MAID3: (laughs, then pauses, then with a smile) I love you.
MESS2: I used to hear characters say that all the time, and I got so used to hearing other people say it and never finding those words in my mouth that I never really understood what it means. But I'm figuring more of it out all the time. I love you.
MAID3: Let's start the show.

(the scene shifts back to the WAITING ROOM where SAGE,
DANCER #14, and MESSENGERS #1 and #3 are talking)

SAGE: You're going to be damned just like he was! The Gods are especially angered by interfering with the lives of great men! The line must be drawn here!
MESS3: (shrugs) You know, Messenger Number Two was right.
MESS1: What, about love and freedom and self determination and all that nonsense?
MESS3: No, I just think that Othello guy was kind of a dumbass. But you know what? It doesn't matter too much. (he places a crown on his own head and puts his arm around DANCER #14, who is laughing too hard to speak) Whether I'm in the background or not, in my own way I am king. Hail to the king, baby.

(MAIDEN #2 comes over)

MAID2: Hey guys, a new Messenger and a new Maiden arrived. I like the new ones, they're so nice and normal. None of those silly obsessions.
SAGE: Ah, I expect they're a bit confused. I shall go over and educate them, to ensure that none of this...(glaring at MESSENGER #3 and DANCER #14) "individuality" nonsense takes hold of them and prevents them from playing the parts the Gods are generous enough to assign.
MAID2: (to DANCER #14) Aren't you afraid of being kicked out and becoming old and wrinkly?
DANCER14: Nah. I mean, what's the point of all this useless beauty? I'm tired of doing the same old dances. Any group of gods that creates some of the scenes that we're forced to take part in isn't a very intelligent one. I think it'd be much more fun to find those gods and spray-paint mustaches on them.
MESS3: I think I'm doing the gods a favor, actually. (adopting a deep baritone voice) Pretension and cliches are the disease, and I'm the cure.
MESS1: nnnngh! Stop it! You're making me think heretical thoughts! You're going to destroy me too! nnngh! Gods! Hear me! Give me a message to deliver! Please! Anything! I'll be a sewage engineer! (falls to his knees) Something! Please!
DANCER14: (smirks) It's a virus.
SAGE: You can be replaced, you know. All honor lies in service, in waiting quietly for the Gods to find a place for you and accepting it with quiet grace. Trust in the wisdom of the Gods and those who are higher than you. In service lies meaning!
MESS3: In service lies routine and a trap. You go your way, and I'll go mine. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a scene to do...my way. (leaves)
DANCER14: Wait up, I'm coming too. (leaves)

(NEW MESSENGER comes over)

SAGE: (bitterly, looking after them) They can be replaced.
NEWMESS: (mechanically) Hello?
SAGE: Hello. How do you feel, Messenger?
NEWMESS: (confused) Feel?
SAGE: Stay confused. That's the right idea.


FINIS
conceived, created and written by Marc Heiden and Rory Leahy June 1997.