bad play 1

[achilles]

THE LOST PLAY OF THE BEGINNING OF THE END OF THE BEGINNING END

A single white spot comes up where it came up before on two men twisted together like a demented pretzel or like performers in a small village circus in Siberian Russia. One man is a former Captain in the Soviet Army.
He is now reduced to carrying the mail on a dog sled from hovel to hovel.
The other man is an American expatriate who came to the former Soviet Union with idealistic dreams of an egalitarian society. He now creates small ice sculptures which melt in the spring.

IVAN: I tell you the army was the best way of life. I was a hero. We were ready to kill you and your grandchildren. We loved that idea.
ARNOLD: Ah, that's crap and you know it. Your society was crushed under its own totalitarian weight.
IVAN: And look who's talking. Your America is nothing but a bunch of fairy tales, lies, and secret assassinations. We were honest. You have never been.
ARNOLD: I used to believe in Russia. Now I see every place is the same.
The same men and women cheating on each other. The same crooked local officials. The same lies shoved down the throats by religious leaders.
It's all crap. The only thing that matters is the weather.
IVAN: The weather?!
ARNOLD: Yeah, and the weather here sucks. I miss Brooklyn. I miss springtime when the Dodgers would be gearing up for the season opener.
God, I do I miss baseball.
IVAN: You are still a capitalist swine.
ARNOLD: And you're still an old communist fascist.

Arnold struggles to free himself of Ivan, but it's useless.

ARNOLD: I'm afraid, Ivan.
IVAN: Afraid of what?
ARNOLD: I'm afraid we're going to be stuck like this forever.
IVAN: No, we will be set free by the State. Give it more time. In my dream last night I saw Comrade Stalin on a big white sled drawn by 20 of the best dogs in mother Russia! He was coming for us.
ARNOLD: Oh, shit. I don't want Stalin coming for me. Not even in your stupid nightmares.
IVAN: It was no nightmare. It was a dream of redemption. A dream of salvation.

Arnold struggles harder to get free.

ARNOLD: You're only making me more upset. Listen, I have an idea.
IVAN: You? An idea? Ha, very funny.
ARNOLD: One of us must kill the other. Then at least the killer can be free.
IVAN: You are mad, Arnold. You are a mad American. The sickness of your country is seeping through your pores. You stink, Arnold, you stink!

Arnold manages one free hand and throttles Ivan's throat. Ivan manages on free knee and kicks Arnold in the balls. The strange twisted man pretzel continues like this for ten minutes, each half trying to kill the other. After a while both men go limp.

IVAN: It is no use, my friend. We are doomed. So! Tomorrow I shall drag you again through my delivery rounds. And the next day I will try not to move as you make your new sculpture.

ARNOLD: That's just terrific. That's the best the Soviet Army can come up with? A mutual agreement to be twisted and powerless together?

IVAN: It is all we can do for now.

Arnold manages to reach into his pants pocket and pulls out a straight razor.
Ivan reacts too late and Arnold slits Ivan's throat. Blood is gushing out.
Ivan gurgles.

IVAN: You scoundrel...

Ivan dies. Arnold is jubilant.

ARNOLD: I did it, I did it. Free at last, free at last, thank god almighty I'm free at last.


BLACK OUT

[mtmynd]

creative writing... very creative (as i grab for my throat to make sure it's completely dry like Death Valley in June 18th, 2:43p.m., 1982).

[achilles]

ya, ya, ya, ya, ya...

[hester_prynne]

Whoa!
H

[achilles]

The scene is a pile of snow in Hawaii. Solitudinous and Botch sit on the top of the unmelted pile.

Sol: It's really impossible.
Botch: I know.
Sol: Some things are entirely out of place.
Botch: I know.
Sol: I came here expecting one thing.
Botch: I know.
Sol: And got the exact opposite.
Botch: Exact opposite.
Sol: Exactly
Botch: I know.
Sol: So, we make the best of this.
Botch: The very best.
Sol: It's our nature.
Botch: I know.
Sol: I used to think my life was going to be special. But it's become this.
Botch: Jesus.
Sol: People believed in me.
Botch: I did.
Sol: I'm sorry.
Botch: Me too.
Sol: The sun is coming up again.
Botch: Maybe this time.
Sol: No, it's come up a every morning and nothing has changed.
Botch: Jesus
Sol: Okay, are you ready?
Botch: Yep.
Sol: Let's sing. I'm a million miles away from home but I've still got your love to remember you by.
Botch: Bada, bot, bot, baaa.

Blackout

Achilles 2/15/10