Information, disinformation, fact, fiction and all manner of thoughts

“Good Times”, a play by C.

Found in a hole in the wall, this mysterious manuscript continues to baffle the experts

Act I

MUSIC

Light and airy music that seems to sit in the air, like furniture, or in the form of a flower; an ensemble of piano, guitar and viola.

A drawing room in the Second Empire style. A massive bronze-colored Janus-head ornament hangs above the mantelpiece, betraying a certain questionable taste. SUE MILLER walks in, head held high in a mixture of brazenness and naiveté. MARY OWEN follows her, head down but very determined. Sue stops at the center of the stage and Mary plants herself just to the side of and behind Sue.

SUE

To the audience: Hi, I’m Sue Miller. Something has happened to me. It came as an illness does, not like an ordinary certainty, not like anything evident. Three months ago I was home doing the usual when Mary Owens, a friend of mine whom I hadn’t seen in months, called me on the phone and asked what I was doing. She was so excited and happy about whatever it was. I was a little curious, and maybe a bit suspicious. What can Mary have up her sleeve this time? Still, I like excited people. So when she invited me to see a product demonstration at a party she was giving, I agreed to come along.

Sue happily turns to Mary, watching her eagerly as she speaks.

MARY

To the audience, with sincerity: If I am not mistaken, if all the signs which have been amassed are precursors of a new overthrow in my life; — well then I am terrified. It isn’t that my life is rich, or weighty or precious. But I am afraid of what will be born and take possession of me — and drag me — where? Shall I have to go off again, leaving everything else unfinished?

A pause.

SUE

Turning around to speak to audience: Since you’re brand new with us, let me show you what Mary showed me those first few hours. It doesn’t take long and it is so simple. [To Mary] Now, what do I do first?

MARY

Oh, I don’t know. Set two dates for parties.

SUE

Why two?

MARY

Well, to give your guests a chance to come — to give them a choice. For example; — no, no, no! What do you want me to say? Don’t you realize how maddening it is to have to answer questions one can’t make head or tail of? I am only just beginning to sort out the signs of a new mode of life and fear I may answer in the wrong. Shall we spend our days shooting bullets into a clock to learn of its inner workings from the parts that fly out? [She stamps her foot.] You do make things difficult. Anyhow, I love you just the same, even if you are a coward. Isn’t that enough?

SUE

Well, well!

MARY

Yes? What’s in your mind?

SUE

What do I do to invite these guests?

MARY

The solution’s easy enough: each of us stays put in his or her corner and takes no notice of the others. You here, and I there. Like soldiers at our posts. Also, we mustn’t speak a word. That won’t be difficult; each of us has plenty of material for self-communing. I think I could stay ten thousand years with only my thoughts for company. What are you doing tomorrow at 2 pm? What’s your stand on water pollution? I’m having some friends in for coffee and a demonstration of an exciting new line of products that save time and money.

 

They walk off. Curtain.

MUSIC

Tenor and piano; a Georgian song of longing entitled ‘Isev shen.’

Act II

MUSIC

A repetitive strain from the light and airy theme used at the beginning of Act I.

A public square in Argos, dominated by a statue of Zeus, god of flies and death. The image has white eyes and blood-smeared cheeks. There is a floor-standing microphone center stage. An IDIOT BOY dressed only in red short pants and smeared with mud is squatting in the background. Sue enters in teal, accompanied by Mary in pink. Sue is carrying a big pink handbag with a large yellow daisy on the front of it. She places herself between the microphone and the audience, as if she has no idea of its function. Mary is apparently unaware of the idiot boy’s presence, staring off absentmindedly into the distance.

SUE

To the audience. Something is beginning in order to end: adventure does not let itself be drawn out; it only makes sense when dead. I am drawn, irrevocably, toward this death which is perhaps mine as well. Each instant appears only as part of a sequence. I cling to them with all my heart: I know that it is unique, irreplaceable — and yet I would not raise a finger to stop it from being annihilated. That same afternoon I found these and many more ideas in my cameo girl party guide. [To Mary] Okay, Mary, I can invite some people in. How many should I invite?

 

Mary swings around, emitting little squeaks.

MARY

It’s no use. I’m all dried up. I can’t give and I can’t receive. How could I help you? A dead twig, ready for the burning.

 

She falls silent, gazing at Sue who has buried her head in her hands.

 

How many would you like to invite?

SUE

I guess five or six?

MARY

Fine, five or six would be great, but you earn more with more people.

SUE

Okay, I’ll ask ten.

MARY

I suggest you ask 40 or 50 to be sure ten can come. [Mary points to the audience.] See, there they are, slumped in their chairs, ready for the fleecing. Bored they look. Half-asleep. They’re thinking "Sue is a coward." But only vaguely, dreamily. One’s got to think of something. "That woman Sue was a coward." That’s what they’ve decided, those dear friends of yours.

 

A commotion stage right. We see a bosomy young FEMALE BABOON, in a shell-pink evening gown, her mouth painted purple, her muzzle powdered mauve, her fiery red eyes ringed with mascara. Swaying as voluptuously as the shortness of her hind legs will permit, she walks into a bright pool of light that forms center stage and approaches the microphone. Behind her, secured by a light steel chain attached to a dog collar, comes HENRY FORD, muzzled with a ball gag. As Sue and Mary step aside, the she-ape takes the microphone from the stand and begins playing with it, making ape noises into it. Sue and Mary step aside for all this, as if it all were completely normal.

SUE

Yes, and I will beg the gods’ forgiveness for a crime I never committed. I have no control over the big forces that rule my life; disturbing as that is, I am comforted by the expert power of the unknowns. Who’s in control? We are — and yet we are not. Perhaps if we light a fire to the gods, we will be happy at last. Yes — that makes sense to me. The next question is: What do I do to be ready for the party?

MARY

Vibrating. That’s just it. I haven’t a notion, not the foggiest. In fact, I’m wondering if there hasn’t been some ghastly mistake. I pry into the great conspiracy of our moment in history — the one responsible for our mode of life. I say ‘one’ merely for convenience’ sake, for really there are many such collusions all swirling around the same gravitational draw. Don’t smile. Just think of the number of people who — who must perform the same actions everyday. So much the better. So much the better for you. I can only guess that all this strikes you as very vague.

SUE

Is that it?

MARY

What else should I tell? Keep it simple. Don’t lose heart. It shouldn’t be so hard. Use the hi-lustre on some of your floors for demonstration, use the lemon lustre on some furniture. You have to look at something, and there’s nothing here to see except the sofa and that awful ornament and the table. It bathes us in its splendor. Have a very simple refreshment, like coffee. Be ready 30 minutes before scheduled time and I’ll be over to set up and help you greet the guests.

 

They exit. The ape hands the microphone to Ford. He makes gestures, as though he is trying speak through the ball gag. The ape tugs him off stage by the chain as the curtain closes.

Act III

 

The drawing room. The sun is setting. Mary and Sue walk onto the stage in silence.

SUE

To the audience. Mary told me that I know what’s coming to me. I’m going to burn, and it’s to last forever. Yes. I know everything. But do you think I’ll let go? Mary told me how all the orders at my party would count toward the hostess gifts she had shown me. I assure you, I know everything. She told me to expect that some of the people I called would not be able to come to either of the two parties I had agreed to, but would be interested in the products anyway.

MARY

You won’t catch anything. We’re chasing after each other, round and round in a vicious circle, like the horses on a roundabout. That’s part of their plan, of course. Drop it, Mary. Open your hands and let go of everything. Or else you’ll bring disaster on both of us.

SUE

She said I would get credit at my party for all the "outside orders" I was able to pick up from these folks.

MARY

Enough of this endless searching!

SUE

I thought we’d found it already!

MARY

Are you blind? Look at me, we’re naked, naked right through, and I can see into your heart. Do you think I’d want to hurt you? I don’t regret anything. I’m dried up, too. But for you I can at least feel pity.

SUE

I remember her words and I did as she suggested. Just like the first party I attended, my guests were happy and excited.

MARY

What do you want of me? Snap out of it! Perhaps we have not found the right switch. [She runs to a light switch on the wall, flipping it.] There, is that better? No? [She runs to another and flips it.] This one? Is there no solace?

SUE

To Mary, taking no notice. Are all the parties as great as this one?

MARY

Giving up. They could be, I guess. It all depends on the attitude and excitement of the hostess. Today we both did our parts well.

SUE

To the audience. Well, that’s how it started. In 12 weeks I’ve given 24 parties where different ladies earned hostess gifts and had lots of fun. I won prizes, had fun and brought home some extra money. Often I even suspect one of my customers is thinking, "Wish I could sell these products, too!"

MARY

To Sue, vibrating. Well, what are you waiting for? Do as your told! Let’s get on with it!

 

Sue pulls a pearl-handled revolver from her large daisy handbag and shoots Mary in the chest. Mary falls limply to the floor without reaction, neither horror nor pain. Sue leaves the gun on the mantel and exits stage left. The baboon and Henry Ford enter stage right and drag Mary’s limp corpse by the hand off stage. Curtain.

MUSIC

“Dida voi, Nana,” a song of mourning.

FINIS

This play has been translated into Russian by Dmitri Kolesnik for the web zine The Egg and We.