Scenes for Small Actors: Chapters 5-6
SCENE ONE: Souks and Bondage
The distant present.
A place of repurposed dust.
Skeletal divide.
Restless hum of fear.
The air is thirsty and the light is unwelcome.
Faded banners and flags hang like ghostly undergarments.
A stained glass window floats freely.
The crumbled remains of columns.
An elderly MERCHANT appears and unfolds an aging rug.
He unpacks and arranges invisible wares.
A noise is heard from offstage.
The hum of a public address system.
A VOICE is heard from a close distance.
It is almost music.
VOICE
Allah hu Akbar. Allah hu Akbar.
Allah hu Akbar. Allah hu Akbar.
Ash-hadu allā ilāha illallāh. Ash-hadu allā ilāha illallāh.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammadan rasūlullāh.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammadan rasūlullāh.
Hayya 'alas-salāt. Hayya 'alas-salāt.
Hayya 'alal-falāh. Hayya 'alal-falāh.
Allah u Akbar. Allah u Akbar.
Lā ilāha illallāh. Lā ilāha illallāh.
*Adhan loose translation: Allah is the Greatest. I bear witness that there is no lord except Allah. I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah. Make haste towards prayer. Make haste towards welfare. Make haste towards the best thing. Allah is the Greatest. There is no Lord except Allah.
As the VOICE nears the end of the speech, a series of bells are heard.
And then silence.
MERCHANT
Apricots. (Pointing) Good for stomach.
Mint? Mint. (Rubs it between his fingers)
Yes, for tea. Good for moving blood.
And, look the grapes.
The rice. The salt.
(Opens a vial and sniffs it. He coughs.)
It is very strong! Phew! Spicy – not
for children.
You have children?
(He knows just the thing.)
I think the micks call it poteen.
A pretty dumb name but by the morning
what you call it is not all that important.
Or, well, there is the powdered milk.
What? That? That there?
That is a fine Japanese radio. Very rare.
And look here. Feel… feel how soft…
Oh! Watermelon! Ha ha! But be careful –
It always marks its territory!
A YOUNG VENDOR appears with a briefcase under his arm.
YOUNG VENDOR
Cinco! Cinco!
MERCHANT
And here is walnuts. They have a white heart!
YOUNG VENDOR
Cinco! Cinco! Five dollar! Five dollar!
MERCHANT
Or almonds. Almonds as big as cucumbers!
YOUNG VENDOR
Five dollar! Five dollar! Cinco…
MERCHANT
And cucumbers as tender as baby fingers!
YOUNG VENDOR
Cinco! Cinco! War of the Worlds!
MERCHANT
Figs as white as jasmine…
YOUNG VENDOR
Lord de Los Anillos!
MERCHANT
…as fresh as the cold morning’s dew
YOUNG VENDOR
Cinco! Terminator!
MERCHANT
Pomegranates!
YOUNG VENDOR
Erin Brokovitch!
MERCHANT
Sweet…
YOUNG VENDOR
Muy caliente!
MERCHANT
…like roses…
YOUNG VENDOR
Nuevo y viejo!
MERCHANT
…good for the newly weened baby.
A particular noise is heard from offstage.
A bomb.
Alerted, the YOUNG VENDOR sets down the briefcase and vanishes.
The MERCHANT is impassive.
MERCHANT
Televisions. T-shirts. Ah! Polaroid camera.
He looks up to find himself alone. He hawks regardless.
MERCHANT
A goat. Dry beans.
Cheese. Wine. Aspirin.
Good and Plenty. Ha ha! My wife likes this.
Ehh… Not much use for those these days.
But these I know I sell too cheap.
New York Times.
Liberal cow piss!
Washington Post.
Cow piss!
Yesterday’s bread. (Sniffs.)
Still edible.
Ripe nightshades.
You’re not allergic? No?
And this? Well, eh, I don’t know
what it is for. Maybe though it
would look good to hang on a wall?
Now here are pieces of history – believe it,
these are even older than me!
But wait… Still more…
Like a compact mirror.
Expired condoms.
Disposable diapers.
Nike shoes.
Calling card.
Green card.
Russian whore.
Arab whore.
Arab blood.
Arab oil.
Motor oil.
Cigarettes.
Medicines.
Designer shades.
(Looks about him. Can’t be too sure.)
These, I’m told, were Saddam Hussein’s.
Could be true, since they smell like shit.
Errr… Then again, I take those back,
Those are not for sale.
There’s too much risk.
But maybe you like
The Beatles’ Greatest Hits?
Barbecue sauce.
Swiffer mop!
Bowling trophy.
Afro-pop.
Baklava.
Bobble head.
Heart attack.
Democracy.
Oprah. Kafka.
Kentucky Fried Chicken.
The body of Christ.
The Birth of a Nation.
The special sauce.
The Shiite militia.
Security camera.
Smith and Wesson.
The land of the Frisbee.
The home of the foreclosed.
The Quran for Dummies.
Hmmm… no, no, no.
(Constructing ideas. Suddenly, he claps his hands together.)
MTV?
Ecstasy?
LSD?
PCP?
WMD?
NBC?
LED?
Q&A?
R&R?
D&D?
B&B?
DNC
UNC
CDC
AZT
ART
ROB
OLD
GOD
HOT
QED
BLT
SAT
PIE
LIE
SOB
VIP
GPB
GVP
NYC
NOT
OBG
DIG
OTC
JPV
NRV
PLD
JYP
MOB
TXT
PIG
CIC
LCD
Krispy Kreme!
Coffee bean!
Coca-cola!
Ha-ha-ha!
The MERCHANT laughs.
He opens his hands and begins to count his invisible profit.
The lights begin their retreat.
Colored light seeps in as if the stained glass window were melting into the air.
A sound approaches carrying its own echo.
It is a chorus of Bulgarian girls singing a song of regret.
The women wear black robes and black veils obscure their faces.
Their open palms stretch forward; a white powder covers their hands.
The MERCHANT ignores the chorus and rolls up his rug.
MERCHANT
Ha-ha! But it’s late and you’re tired and I talk too much.
Me, I’m like a turtle at the end of the day, I pull in my
valuables and cart them away.
Come back tomorrow!
But not before noon.
Bells ring in the distance.
The MERCHANT notices the briefcase on the ground.
Seeing no one around, he picks it up and looks inside.
Two masked men enter to find the MERCHANT staring at the contents of the box.
The CHORUS finishes their song.
The following sequence happens at shotgun speed:
Just as the MERCHANT closes the case, the CHORUS slaps their hands together once like a guillotine and produce a small white cloud.
The two MEN throw a black sack over the MERCHANT’s head.
Blackout.
SCENE TWO: Al-Ghouta Vibrations
An orchard oasis.
Blindfolded young men are tied to the trees with orange rope.
The HERO, a handsome man with the posture of a God, preaches to them.
HERO
You are tested, boys! You are tested!
The call is to you, princes of the
Forgotten City! Listen, princes!
It is the duty of birth
to hear the call.
It is the duty of birth
to answer.
It is the duty of birth
to submit.
To sacrifice.
To spit blood.
To breathe.
To bury your hearts in the bricks
of fallen Empires!
To spill the barrels of your limbs
and sow the seeds of your fertile history!
You are tested, now, to lift up valleys
and push mountains back into the Earth.
It is the duty of birth
to die.
It is the duty of birth
to cry out.
Unbend the crooked rivers and roads
and make straight the way of the Lord.
On the heels of this speech, a FARMER enters with an empty crate tied to his back. Several yards behind him carrying a tall ladder, his scrawny SON struggles to keep up.
The HERO sneaks off into hiding.
When the FARMER and his SON enter, neither notice the boys tied to the trees.
FARMER
Keep up! Keep up! We haven’t got all day.
The SON scrambles in and uses his remaining strength to lean the heavy ladder against a tree. The FARMER removes the crate from his back and hands it to the SON.
FARMER
Now, keep up! Keep up!
You must be a man today.
You must be strong.
You must be alert.
You must keep up.
Are you strong, my son?
SON
I am strong.
FARMER
Are you alert?
SON
I am alert.
FARMER
Are you a man?
SON
Yes, father.
FARMER
Yes, father?
SON
Yes, father. I am a man, father.
FARMER
Good. Now, you know the drill.
And watch out for cobras.
The FARMER climbs the ladder and disappears into the treetop.
His SON holds the crate out in front of him and leans his head back to watch his father’s movements.
FARMER
“Grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food.”
SON
Genesis.
FARMER
Right!
The SON runs to the right and catches an invisible fruit in the basket.
FARMER
“Behold, I make all things new.”
SON
Revelation.
FARMER
Right!
The SON runs to the right and catches an invisible fruit in the basket.
FARMER
“Put not your trust in Princes.”
SON
Psalms.
FARMER
Left!
The SON runs to the left.
FARMER
“Speak to the earth, and it shall teach thee.” Left!
The SON runs to the left.
SON
Deuteronomy.
FARMER
Wrong! Right!
The SON runs to the right.
SON
Job?
FARMER
Right! Left!
The SON runs to the left.
Right!
The SON runs to the right, but misses the invisible fruit.
Keep up, son! Keep up!
SON
Right.
FARMER
Left!
The SON runs to the left.
“As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.” Right!
The SON runs to the right.
SON (quickly tiring)
James. Ugh! No. No. It is…
FARMER
No! Left! Left!
The SON runs to the left.
SON
Proverbs!
FARMER
Right!
The SON runs to the right but there is nothing to catch. As soon as he does, his father yells:
Left!
The SON stumbles and runs to the left.
Keep up, now! Keep up!
SON (breathless)
Yes. Yes, father.
FARMER
“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Right! Be alert! Right again!
The SON runs to the right, but trips and falls.
Left! Left! Son!
The SON fumbles to his feet and fetches the fallen crate.
He hesitates, then runs to the left.
The HERO, who has been spying this scene from behind a tree, quickly nabs the SON, wrapping his arm tight around his torso and covering the boy’s mouth with his hand.
The SON makes little attempt to fight back.
Answer me, boy! And pick up that fruit!
HERO (imitating the Son)
Uh… uh… Ecclesiastes.
FARMER
Aha! You are not so dumb after all! Left!
The HERO pulls the SON towards an empty tree.
Right!
The HERO quickly blindfolds, gags, and ties the SON to the tree with orange rope.
Left!
The HERO then runs to the far edge of the orchard.
He cups his hands to make his speech sound distant.
He makes barking sounds and yells.
HERO
To the orchard! The orchard! Kill the fruit thieves! Run! Charge!
The HERO makes more barking sounds and then hurries behind a tree.
Bring your rifles! Bring your axes! Let loose the dogs! Secure the borders!
The FARMER is alarmed and begins to scurry down the ladder.
FARMER
Come! Come, my son!
The crate – hurry – we must go!
Keep up!
He pulls down the ladder and turns to see the abandoned crate and fallen fruit, but nowhere his SON.
Desperately he scans the orchard.
From behind the tree, the HERO imitates a baying hound.
You miserable shit! Deserter!
He awkwardly grabs the ladder but is forced to leave the crate.
He makes his bitter getaway, screaming as he exits.
May God’s mercy or the hound’s fang find you, you worthless bug!
The HERO appears content with his success.
He inspects the abandoned crate and pulls out a very real ripe red pear.
HERO
Princes of Great Memory,
You must become men today.
You must be strong.
You must keep up.
Resurrection is the duty of birth
and retaliation is the prescription.
This Eastward garden buds at
tongue and table.
Death begins at breakfast.
The HERO removes the SON’s gag and stuffs the pear into his mouth.
Blackout.
The distant present.
A place of repurposed dust.
Skeletal divide.
Restless hum of fear.
The air is thirsty and the light is unwelcome.
Faded banners and flags hang like ghostly undergarments.
A stained glass window floats freely.
The crumbled remains of columns.
An elderly MERCHANT appears and unfolds an aging rug.
He unpacks and arranges invisible wares.
A noise is heard from offstage.
The hum of a public address system.
A VOICE is heard from a close distance.
It is almost music.
VOICE
Allah hu Akbar. Allah hu Akbar.
Allah hu Akbar. Allah hu Akbar.
Ash-hadu allā ilāha illallāh. Ash-hadu allā ilāha illallāh.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammadan rasūlullāh.
Ash-hadu anna Muhammadan rasūlullāh.
Hayya 'alas-salāt. Hayya 'alas-salāt.
Hayya 'alal-falāh. Hayya 'alal-falāh.
Allah u Akbar. Allah u Akbar.
Lā ilāha illallāh. Lā ilāha illallāh.
*Adhan loose translation: Allah is the Greatest. I bear witness that there is no lord except Allah. I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah. Make haste towards prayer. Make haste towards welfare. Make haste towards the best thing. Allah is the Greatest. There is no Lord except Allah.
As the VOICE nears the end of the speech, a series of bells are heard.
And then silence.
MERCHANT
Apricots. (Pointing) Good for stomach.
Mint? Mint. (Rubs it between his fingers)
Yes, for tea. Good for moving blood.
And, look the grapes.
The rice. The salt.
(Opens a vial and sniffs it. He coughs.)
It is very strong! Phew! Spicy – not
for children.
You have children?
(He knows just the thing.)
I think the micks call it poteen.
A pretty dumb name but by the morning
what you call it is not all that important.
Or, well, there is the powdered milk.
What? That? That there?
That is a fine Japanese radio. Very rare.
And look here. Feel… feel how soft…
Oh! Watermelon! Ha ha! But be careful –
It always marks its territory!
A YOUNG VENDOR appears with a briefcase under his arm.
YOUNG VENDOR
Cinco! Cinco!
MERCHANT
And here is walnuts. They have a white heart!
YOUNG VENDOR
Cinco! Cinco! Five dollar! Five dollar!
MERCHANT
Or almonds. Almonds as big as cucumbers!
YOUNG VENDOR
Five dollar! Five dollar! Cinco…
MERCHANT
And cucumbers as tender as baby fingers!
YOUNG VENDOR
Cinco! Cinco! War of the Worlds!
MERCHANT
Figs as white as jasmine…
YOUNG VENDOR
Lord de Los Anillos!
MERCHANT
…as fresh as the cold morning’s dew
YOUNG VENDOR
Cinco! Terminator!
MERCHANT
Pomegranates!
YOUNG VENDOR
Erin Brokovitch!
MERCHANT
Sweet…
YOUNG VENDOR
Muy caliente!
MERCHANT
…like roses…
YOUNG VENDOR
Nuevo y viejo!
MERCHANT
…good for the newly weened baby.
A particular noise is heard from offstage.
A bomb.
Alerted, the YOUNG VENDOR sets down the briefcase and vanishes.
The MERCHANT is impassive.
MERCHANT
Televisions. T-shirts. Ah! Polaroid camera.
He looks up to find himself alone. He hawks regardless.
MERCHANT
A goat. Dry beans.
Cheese. Wine. Aspirin.
Good and Plenty. Ha ha! My wife likes this.
Ehh… Not much use for those these days.
But these I know I sell too cheap.
New York Times.
Liberal cow piss!
Washington Post.
Cow piss!
Yesterday’s bread. (Sniffs.)
Still edible.
Ripe nightshades.
You’re not allergic? No?
And this? Well, eh, I don’t know
what it is for. Maybe though it
would look good to hang on a wall?
Now here are pieces of history – believe it,
these are even older than me!
But wait… Still more…
Like a compact mirror.
Expired condoms.
Disposable diapers.
Nike shoes.
Calling card.
Green card.
Russian whore.
Arab whore.
Arab blood.
Arab oil.
Motor oil.
Cigarettes.
Medicines.
Designer shades.
(Looks about him. Can’t be too sure.)
These, I’m told, were Saddam Hussein’s.
Could be true, since they smell like shit.
Errr… Then again, I take those back,
Those are not for sale.
There’s too much risk.
But maybe you like
The Beatles’ Greatest Hits?
Barbecue sauce.
Swiffer mop!
Bowling trophy.
Afro-pop.
Baklava.
Bobble head.
Heart attack.
Democracy.
Oprah. Kafka.
Kentucky Fried Chicken.
The body of Christ.
The Birth of a Nation.
The special sauce.
The Shiite militia.
Security camera.
Smith and Wesson.
The land of the Frisbee.
The home of the foreclosed.
The Quran for Dummies.
Hmmm… no, no, no.
(Constructing ideas. Suddenly, he claps his hands together.)
MTV?
Ecstasy?
LSD?
PCP?
WMD?
NBC?
LED?
Q&A?
R&R?
D&D?
B&B?
DNC
UNC
CDC
AZT
ART
ROB
OLD
GOD
HOT
QED
BLT
SAT
PIE
LIE
SOB
VIP
GPB
GVP
NYC
NOT
OBG
DIG
OTC
JPV
NRV
PLD
JYP
MOB
TXT
PIG
CIC
LCD
Krispy Kreme!
Coffee bean!
Coca-cola!
Ha-ha-ha!
The MERCHANT laughs.
He opens his hands and begins to count his invisible profit.
The lights begin their retreat.
Colored light seeps in as if the stained glass window were melting into the air.
A sound approaches carrying its own echo.
It is a chorus of Bulgarian girls singing a song of regret.
The women wear black robes and black veils obscure their faces.
Their open palms stretch forward; a white powder covers their hands.
The MERCHANT ignores the chorus and rolls up his rug.
MERCHANT
Ha-ha! But it’s late and you’re tired and I talk too much.
Me, I’m like a turtle at the end of the day, I pull in my
valuables and cart them away.
Come back tomorrow!
But not before noon.
Bells ring in the distance.
The MERCHANT notices the briefcase on the ground.
Seeing no one around, he picks it up and looks inside.
Two masked men enter to find the MERCHANT staring at the contents of the box.
The CHORUS finishes their song.
The following sequence happens at shotgun speed:
Just as the MERCHANT closes the case, the CHORUS slaps their hands together once like a guillotine and produce a small white cloud.
The two MEN throw a black sack over the MERCHANT’s head.
Blackout.
SCENE TWO: Al-Ghouta Vibrations
An orchard oasis.
Blindfolded young men are tied to the trees with orange rope.
The HERO, a handsome man with the posture of a God, preaches to them.
HERO
You are tested, boys! You are tested!
The call is to you, princes of the
Forgotten City! Listen, princes!
It is the duty of birth
to hear the call.
It is the duty of birth
to answer.
It is the duty of birth
to submit.
To sacrifice.
To spit blood.
To breathe.
To bury your hearts in the bricks
of fallen Empires!
To spill the barrels of your limbs
and sow the seeds of your fertile history!
You are tested, now, to lift up valleys
and push mountains back into the Earth.
It is the duty of birth
to die.
It is the duty of birth
to cry out.
Unbend the crooked rivers and roads
and make straight the way of the Lord.
On the heels of this speech, a FARMER enters with an empty crate tied to his back. Several yards behind him carrying a tall ladder, his scrawny SON struggles to keep up.
The HERO sneaks off into hiding.
When the FARMER and his SON enter, neither notice the boys tied to the trees.
FARMER
Keep up! Keep up! We haven’t got all day.
The SON scrambles in and uses his remaining strength to lean the heavy ladder against a tree. The FARMER removes the crate from his back and hands it to the SON.
FARMER
Now, keep up! Keep up!
You must be a man today.
You must be strong.
You must be alert.
You must keep up.
Are you strong, my son?
SON
I am strong.
FARMER
Are you alert?
SON
I am alert.
FARMER
Are you a man?
SON
Yes, father.
FARMER
Yes, father?
SON
Yes, father. I am a man, father.
FARMER
Good. Now, you know the drill.
And watch out for cobras.
The FARMER climbs the ladder and disappears into the treetop.
His SON holds the crate out in front of him and leans his head back to watch his father’s movements.
FARMER
“Grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food.”
SON
Genesis.
FARMER
Right!
The SON runs to the right and catches an invisible fruit in the basket.
FARMER
“Behold, I make all things new.”
SON
Revelation.
FARMER
Right!
The SON runs to the right and catches an invisible fruit in the basket.
FARMER
“Put not your trust in Princes.”
SON
Psalms.
FARMER
Left!
The SON runs to the left.
FARMER
“Speak to the earth, and it shall teach thee.” Left!
The SON runs to the left.
SON
Deuteronomy.
FARMER
Wrong! Right!
The SON runs to the right.
SON
Job?
FARMER
Right! Left!
The SON runs to the left.
Right!
The SON runs to the right, but misses the invisible fruit.
Keep up, son! Keep up!
SON
Right.
FARMER
Left!
The SON runs to the left.
“As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.” Right!
The SON runs to the right.
SON (quickly tiring)
James. Ugh! No. No. It is…
FARMER
No! Left! Left!
The SON runs to the left.
SON
Proverbs!
FARMER
Right!
The SON runs to the right but there is nothing to catch. As soon as he does, his father yells:
Left!
The SON stumbles and runs to the left.
Keep up, now! Keep up!
SON (breathless)
Yes. Yes, father.
FARMER
“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Right! Be alert! Right again!
The SON runs to the right, but trips and falls.
Left! Left! Son!
The SON fumbles to his feet and fetches the fallen crate.
He hesitates, then runs to the left.
The HERO, who has been spying this scene from behind a tree, quickly nabs the SON, wrapping his arm tight around his torso and covering the boy’s mouth with his hand.
The SON makes little attempt to fight back.
Answer me, boy! And pick up that fruit!
HERO (imitating the Son)
Uh… uh… Ecclesiastes.
FARMER
Aha! You are not so dumb after all! Left!
The HERO pulls the SON towards an empty tree.
Right!
The HERO quickly blindfolds, gags, and ties the SON to the tree with orange rope.
Left!
The HERO then runs to the far edge of the orchard.
He cups his hands to make his speech sound distant.
He makes barking sounds and yells.
HERO
To the orchard! The orchard! Kill the fruit thieves! Run! Charge!
The HERO makes more barking sounds and then hurries behind a tree.
Bring your rifles! Bring your axes! Let loose the dogs! Secure the borders!
The FARMER is alarmed and begins to scurry down the ladder.
FARMER
Come! Come, my son!
The crate – hurry – we must go!
Keep up!
He pulls down the ladder and turns to see the abandoned crate and fallen fruit, but nowhere his SON.
Desperately he scans the orchard.
From behind the tree, the HERO imitates a baying hound.
You miserable shit! Deserter!
He awkwardly grabs the ladder but is forced to leave the crate.
He makes his bitter getaway, screaming as he exits.
May God’s mercy or the hound’s fang find you, you worthless bug!
The HERO appears content with his success.
He inspects the abandoned crate and pulls out a very real ripe red pear.
HERO
Princes of Great Memory,
You must become men today.
You must be strong.
You must keep up.
Resurrection is the duty of birth
and retaliation is the prescription.
This Eastward garden buds at
tongue and table.
Death begins at breakfast.
The HERO removes the SON’s gag and stuffs the pear into his mouth.
Blackout.
posted by MJH at
12:50 AM
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