So clearly.
He isn't joking.
A performance. By Justin Locklear.
Actors emerge into light as 'The Players'. 2, 4, 7, 13, 30, the number of players is immaterial. The Players stand in pigeon clumps, shivering and shifting, waiting. An ringing alarm sounds (not a siren), and the Players dance with glee in an organized choreographed chevron. Alarm goes silent and the Players quickly go neutral and search for an audience response.
Lights out.
Lights up on half the Players in the familiar pigeon clumps with similar shuffling about. Same alarm bell, same smiles and dancing. Alarm goes silent and one of the original Players crosses from off stage right, to down center and claps uproariously with hoots and hollers. Players stand in disbelief. Clapping, hooting, hollering all cease and the player exits. Players still in shock and amazement. Some are besotted, some offended, some feel downright lost.
Voice (from offstage): GO HOME!
Players begin to scatter in all directions like newly orphaned baby spiders. Lights out.
Lights up on two Players, both standing arms akimbo, at center stage. Both aware of the audience. Both waiting their cue. Alarm bell starts, the Players slowly plié and then, as they release and make a short leap in the air, the alarm bell goes silent. They shout, mid-leap.
Players (in unison, still in the air): MAGIC!
The Players receive applause from one set of hands backstage. The applause is slow and pitiful. The Players amicably shake hands and are very comfortable with the resulting applause.
Voice (offstage): GO HOME!
Players kiss each others' hands and leave in opposite directions. Another player sweeps. Another player writes the letter 'x' at various locations on the stage. Lights out.
Lights up on blank stage. Alarm sounds and Players rush to stand on the 'x' marks. Alarm goes silent. The Players are very pleased to be onstage again: nothing complex, smiles, nods, confidence.
Voice (offstage): GO HOME!
Players walk in place on their 'x' marks and mime various moods of returning home. It doesn't matter how they do it, but each should find the time to open and close an imaginary door. A player up-left speaks.
Player 1: Go home. Please. Exeunt all but Player 1
I am the fault of no one. I stand alone.
I am the seed of all one. I grow to stone.
I am the thespis eye-twinkle. I get lost for money.
Then I lose the money.
Camels, tubes, medicine, race cars, laundry,
retail, Andy Griffith, the war of... whatever.
I will exist within anything that hasn't a soul but needs one.
I lie the best when I lie to one person at a time.
But I will lie to all, all in love.
If I tell the truth, when I tell the truth,
I want it to be in secret, with a select few lovers,
with eyes bolted, mouths bolted, and our hands up in fear.
If I could end all of the lies with one lie,
I would lie from now until I die, lest I miss the one lie that saves me.
Exits. Re-enters with a sheet. Places sheet on the ground at center. Stands on sheet.
I am a holy mix of nothing.
Walks on 'water.'
I am a holy mix of nothing.
Places sheet on head like a Madonna, making a gesture of peace.
I am a holy peace of tainted flesh. Holy, I am magical, immortal, peaceful.
Removes sheet, folds sheet during the following.
Flesh, I am hot, sniffing, chattering, quick, and gone. Curtains. Wings. Rails. Fires. White coal. Bad luck and empty seats.
Got a dollar to spare? Here's a piece of joy!
'Love comforteth, as sunshine after rain/
Lust's effect is tempest after sun.
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,/
Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done.'
Got a smile for me? Here's assurance!
Player assures audience of their safety in a tacit, concerned pose.
You're a good thief, kid. But I'm better. Lots better.
Kisses.
Two players cross the stage as a couple, holding hands or each other. Player 1 shakes head.
This is my banquet. My fireworks. How does it work? I dunno.
Not my job. I hear it happens, though. Them. That. I hear it's messy!
I have been stabbed 146 times. I have been orphaned 3 times.
I have killed 320 people or thereabouts. I can sail a chariot on fire through the air.
Give me a break, I need to go see a live birth or something. Something messy. Yup.
Lights out. Author is tired, and has to work soon, so he is going to bed. All my love.
