LEGHORN: You can stop calling me that. Your mother and I have filed for divorce.
JERRY: Well, whoever you are, take a seat somewhere.
LEGHORN: There's a hell of a machine back here. Looks like one of my old industrial chicken roasters—from the early days.
[JERRY has a look, is thrilled.]
JERRY: Oh, boy! A fog machine—left over from our rock and roll version of Macbeth.
LEGHORN: Some boat whistles, too.
JERRY: Left over from our rock and roll version of The Old Man and the Sea. [He takes his place stage center.] Okay, gang—face this way, please.
[Everybody faces him—with horrifying effect.]
JERRY: Oh, no—everybody can't be the monster!
SALLY: But everybody loves monsters so.
[This starts off a production number about how everybody loves monsters, but that not everybody is lucky enough to be a monster, that some people have to be good-looking and therefore hated by everyone, and so on.]
JERRY: Gee—I wonder how the real-life Jekyll is doing over in the lab?
LEGHORN: He can't even light a Bunsen burner, if you ask me.
CURTAIN
SCENE 4: DR. JEKYLL'S LABORATORY—A FEW MINUTES LATER.
[At the rise: Idiotic rock music can be heard coming from the theater through the open window. It consists of a repetition of "Jekyll and Hyde! whoe whoe, baby, good old Jekyll and Hyde!" JEKYLL is alone, happily adding LSD and the unknown diet supplement for chickens and so forth to a large beaker, which is giving off unwholesome fumes.
JEKYLL closes the window, shutting out the music. He continues about his business, singing to himself, to the tune of "Humoresque. "]
JEKYLL: [Singing] We were walking through the park, A-goosing statues in the dark. If Sherman's horse can take it, So can you—oo!
[There is a knock on the door.]
JEKYLL: [Aside] Hmmmm. A possible guinea pig. [To knocker] Entrez, s'il vous plait.
[Jekyll's wife, a gorgeous, tragically neglected older woman, enters. He does not recognize her. She immediately sings to him in a rich contralto a show-stopping song about her total devotion to him.]
JEKYLL: May I ask who you are?
MRS. JEKYLL: I'm your wife, Henry.
JEKYLL: Right, right, right. Got it now.
MRS. JEKYLL: When you failed to come home for supper, I called around to find out what had become of you.
JEKYLL: [Genuinely concerned] Am I all right?
MRS. JEKYLL: Here you are.
JEKYLL: Thank God. I could be lying in a ditch somewhere.
MRS. JEKYLL: They said you were going all out for the Nobel prize.
JEKYLL: [Intensely] It's the new me, Mildred.
MRS. JEKYLL: [Correcting him] Hortense.
JEKYLL: It's the new me, Hortense. Say—you look thirsty to me.
MRS. JEKYLL: Thirsty?
JEKYLL: [Offering the beaker] This'll put hair on your chest.
MRS. JEKYLL: Why would I want hair on my chest?
JEKYLL: Just a friendly expression. You have to pick me up on every last little thing? I don't know how our marriage has lasted as long as it has.
MRS. JEKYLL: That stuff smells vile!
JEKYLL: But you love me so much. That was you, wasn't it?
MRS. JEKYLL: Yes—it was I.
JEKYLL: Okay—so drink, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug; so drink, chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug!
MRS. JEKYLL: This is the first thing I have ever refused you.
[MRS. JEKYLL exits with dignity.]
JEKYLL: [Aside] If it's anything that burns me up, it's women's lib. [To himself] Okay, big boy—if you're ever going to get to Stockholm, you'd better drink this stuff yourself. Here goes nothing.
[He holds his nose and drinks. Nothing happens for a moment, then a horrible transformation starts to take place. He claws at his throat, makes subhuman sounds, drops to the floor, rolls out of sight under a desk. When he emerges, he has become an enormous, homicidal chicken. He flings open the window, and, flapping his wings, jumps out into the night.]
CURTAIN
INTERMISSION
SCENE 5: THE STAGE AT MIDNIGHT THE SAME NIGHT. THE STUDENTS HAVE BUILT A SET TO REPRESENT A NINETEENTH-CENTURY LONDON STREET. THERE ARE THREE FACADES FROM LEFT TO RIGHT: A LOW-LIFE PUB, A SINISTER STOREHOUSE WHERE JEKYLL DOES HIS EXPERIMENTS, AND JEKYLL'S RESPECTABLE HOME. ALL HAVE OPERATING DOORS. THERE ARE STREETLAMPS. THERE is A PROMINENT SIGN ON THE SECRET LAB SAYING, "SECRET LAB."
[Before the rise: College library clock strikes twelve.
At the rise: Full cast, except for WHITEFEET, DR. JEKYLL, and MRS. JEKYLL, is onstage. All except LEGHORN, who is a mere observer in his regular business suit, are dressed in Victorian costumes from every level of society. POPS is a bobby, already on duty. SALLY is a whore with a heart of gold, already waiting for customers under a lamppost. JERR Y, who is going to be Dr. Jekyll, wears a top hat and evening cape, and directs many students who are still working on the set, painting, driving nails. Among them is SAM, wearing a tweed suit and derby, who is to be Utterson, Jekyll's best friend, and KIMBERLY, who is dressed as a nursery maid. Her elaborate perambulator is parked on the street. LEGHORN has been interesting himself in the fog machine, which is now putting out wisps of fog.]
JERRY: Okay, kids—that's close enough. We just want to give the general idea. No point in getting it absolutely perfect tonight.
[Students put down their tools, assemble on the street, awaiting instructions. LEGHORN goes to JERRY.]
LEGHORN: I got your fog machine going.
JERRY: I see.
LEGHORN: It really is one of my old industrial chicken roasters. Didn't realize they were being sold now as fog machines.
JERRY: It wasn't cheap.
LEGHORN: Nothing ever is. If you ever wanted to roast a half a ton of chicken in five minutes, you still could—feathers and all.
JERRY: That's nice to know.
SALLY: I love you, Jerry. I'd die for you, if you wanted me to.
JERRY: That's nice to know. Places, everybody!
[JERRY goes into Jekyll's house. LEGHORN withdraws to one side of apron. SALLY stays under lamppost. POPS continues to patrol. Lower-class types go into pub. KIMBERL Y, with her pram, and SAM exit into wings. The rest compose a London street scene in the late afternoon.
A rock band in the pit strikes up appropriate music to be written by somebody else, and a nonstop rock ballet about Jekyll and Hyde begins.
The story, to be choreographed by somebody else, goes roughly like this, with some information being sung:
Everybody on the street is happy, but worried about nightfall and fog. There has been, only a few days before, the murder of a whore under the lamppost where SALLY stands.
Dr. Jekyll, played by JERRY, comes out of his house, the image of civic decency, and is recognized and adored by all. He is trying to get into his secret lab without being observed. While biding his time, he performs acts of civic virtue which are noted and admired by one and all. He picks up a piece of trash dropped by somebody else, puts it in a waste barrel, gives money to a beggar, politely declines an invitation from SALLY the whore, giving her a gentle lecture, and so on. KIMBERLY enters with her perambulator, and he admires the baby, chucks it under its chin. KIMBERL Y exits into wings, to return, going in the opposite direction, a few minutes later.
A fight breaks out in the pub, spills into the street. POPS rushes in to break it up. Everybody but Jekyll goes to watch. Jekyll takes the opportunity to duck into his lab. Lights go on in there.
The fight is broken up, and one of the fighters invites everyone into the pub for a drink on him.
Many accept, go into pub. Some refuse, exit into the wings instead. SALL Y resumes her post by the lamppost. The street is otherwise deserted.
Utterson, the lawyer, played by SAM, enters in a state of agitation. He carries a huge briefcase on which is written, "Lawyer. " He is on his way to Jekyll's house, is propositioned by SALLY. They dicker. Her price is too
high and her services too limited, and he is too busy anyway. He goes and bangs on Jekyll's door. Nobody is home. He sings to the audience that his client and closest friend, Dr. Jekyll, has just written a will leaving everything to a man named Hyde, about whom Utterson has never heard before. He fears that Jekyll has gone insane or is being blackmailed. He gives up, dickers briefly with the whore again, goes into pub for a needed drink.
JERRY, now as the monstrous Mr. Hyde, peers furtively out the secret lab door, sees nobody around but the whore. He whistles to her, crooks his finger at her. She is appalled, but needs the work. She goes into the lab with him, and the door is closed.
A drunk comes out of the pub, sings a song about the beauty of love, staggers off into the wings.
The lab door opens. The whore reels out, her clothes in frightful disarray. Hyde throws money after her, heaps scorn on her as she picks it up. She exits in disorder and shame. Hyde remains in the doorway, looking up and down the street for other opportunities to do evil.
KIMBERLY enters with her perambulator, on her way home from the park. She seems an ideal target of opportunity. She pauses, giving him a chance to duck into the lab to get a black spherical bomb with a fuse sticking out of it, which he shows to the audience. She starts coming again, and he stops her, pretending to be solicitous, hiding the bomb behind his back. He tells her that she should be careful, that he thinks someone may be following her. She looks back, and he tucks the bomb in with the baby and lights the fuse. She moves on, looking back over her shoulder, exits. Hyde ducks into lab, closes door.
There is a terrific explosion offstage, people come pouring out of the pub, exit in direction of explosion.
They return, filled with horror. Some carry pieces of the perambulator. Utterson carries a wheel. Last of all come POPS and KIMBERLY. Pops has his pad and pencil out, trying to get Kimberly's story. Most of Kimberly's clothing has been blown away. Her face is black. She still holds the handle of the perambulator.
Utterson draws aside, muses over the clue of the wheel. He sings that he knows his friend Jekyll has been performing secret experiments of great importance and behaving queerly. He wonders if he could be making bombs.
Somebody suggests that everybody go into the pub to have a drink. KIMBERLY says that she certainly needs one. All exit into the pub, except for Utterson, who goes to Jekyll's house and knocks again. JERRY, now a respectable Jekyll again, comes out of the lab unobserved, again picks up a piece of trash, puts it into a barrel.
Jekyll comes up behind Utterson, scares the daylights out of him. Utterson asks him if his research involves bombs. Jekyll says he has discovered a means of controlling human character with chemicals. Utterson says this is more dangerous than bombs. Jekyll says it is perfectly safe, with no harmful side effects. He confesses that he turned himself into Hyde many times, and that he isn’t going to do it anymore, that Hyde is dead. "No harmful side effects?" says Utterson. Jekyll echoes this, but with qualifications—blurred vision sometimes, constipation, swollen ankles, nothing serious. Utterson asks how he feels now. Jekyll says he never felt better, but then has an attack. He turns into Hyde.
He chokes Utterson to death. There are Grand Guignol effects, with Utterson spitting out catsup, sticking out an impossibly long tongue, and so on.
Still clinging to Utterson's throat, Hyde, played by JERRY, sings a tragic song about how the most idealistic experiments can sometimes go wrong.
KIMBERLY, POPS, and a few others come out of the pub, all half in the bag. KIMBERLY is still holding the handle of the perambulator. They see Hyde choking the dead Utterson. KIMBERLY identifies him as the man who probably blew up the baby, tells POPS to shoot him like a mad dog.
POPS draws his real pistol, which is loaded, and is so carried away by the drama that he actually takes a shot at JERR Y, shattering a streetlamp.
Everything stops.]
JERRY: [As JERRY, dropping Utterson] That was a real bullet.
POPS: I told you I had real bullets in my gun. Nobody kills babies while I'm around.
JERRY: Imbecile!
LEGHORN: [Striding onstage to disarm Pops] I'll take that thing. [He sticks the pistol under his belt. ]
POPS: I lost my head.
JERRY: I almost lost my life. Get out of here!
POPS: What can I say after I've said I'm sorry?
JERRY: Try "Good-bye."
POPS: This thing is never going to make it to Broadway anyway. [He exits.]
LEGHORN: Well—if this show has accomplished nothing else, at least it's disarmed a campus cop.
JERRY: The whole thing stunk. I really let you down this time, gang. I resign as head of the student body.
[SALLY enters, still a mess, deeply concerned about Jerry.]
SALLY: Jerry—
JERRY: You don't have to tell me: You don't love me anymore. I don't even love myself anymore.
SALLY: It wasn't your fault, Jerry. I mean—it was a story we found in the public domain. Everybody knows there's nothing but picked-over garbage in the public domain.
LEGHORN: A little chicken would cheer us all up about now —but I don't know where we could find a chicken this time of night.
[POPS screams in terror outside the theater. The screams go on and on. Nobody is much concerned.]
SALLY: What's that?
JERRY: It sounds like Pops got himself caught in his zipper again.
SAM: Happens all the time.
KIMBERLY: I don't know—that doesn't quite sound like his zipper scream.
[POPS enters, mad with terror, breathless.]
POPS: [Pointing, gasping] I just saw—I just saw—I just saw—
LEGHORN: You're not making any sense.
POPS: I just saw the biggest chicken in history.
LEGHORN: Uh huh. The biggest chicken in history weighed fifty-six pounds and four ounces, and was found on Bikini Atoll after a hydrogen bomb test there.
POPS: Bigger than that.
LEGHORN: And what was this chicken doing?
POPS: As God is my witness—it was eating a Doberman pinscher alive.
JERRY: He just wants his gun back.
LEGHORN: I don't know. Strange things happen in the chicken world. [Aside] Often profitable. [To Pops] How much would you say this chicken weighed?
POPS: With or without the Doberman inside?
LEGHORN: Without the dog.
POPS: A hundred and eighty pounds, medium build, white— yellow feet, yellow beak—believed to be dangerous. Somebody better get out an APB.
LEGHORN: A hundred-and-eighty-pound chicken would feed about two hundred people. A few birds like that would go a long way toward ending the protein shortages in India, in Africa, in Moscow—in Bangladesh. [He considers going out to have a look.]
POPS: Oh, sir—I hate your guts, but I beg of you, please don't go out there alone.
LEGHORN: I never met the chicken I could not dominate. Besides, gumshoe, I have a gun with five shots left in it. Remember?
[LEGHORN draws the pistol, blows down the barrel, and exits.]
JERRY: Well—that's all very interesting, but it doesn't have a heck of a lot to do with saving the college, does it?
POPS: You'd think it had to do with everything there ever was, if you saw a chicken that size.
SALLY: Maybe somebody should call the Humane Society.
POPS: The National Guard!
JERRY: Maybe we should put on a cake sale.
[A pistol is fired outside.]
POPS: Four shots left.
SALLY: Is it legal to shoot a chicken that size? POPS: A chicken, no matter how big, has no rights in the state of Pennsylvania.
[Two more pistol shots]
POPS: Two shots left.
[LEGHORN rushes back in, holding the smoking gun.]
LEGHORN: Everybody out! Grab a hammer, a broom—anything! I'm gonna need help with this one. This one must have been fed pure plutonium on Mars. I think I winged it, but I can't be sure.
[All but KIMBERLY grab makes
hift weapons and rush out. SAM is the last one out.]
SAM: You coming, Kimberly?
KIMBERLY: No. I am a follower of Albert Schweitzer. I have reverence for life. Besides, I'm very sleepy.
SAM: Okay, you take a nap.
[SAM exits. Sounds of a chase come from outside, fading off into the distance, as KIMBERLY makes a pillow of a discarded garment and goes to sleep on Dr. Jekyll's doorstep. She snores softly, sweetly.
There are clumsy, subhuman sounds in the wings. The great chicken which the head of the chemistry department has turned himself into enters, desperately hoping to elude its hunters. It is wounded and enraged. It does not see Kimberly at first, and KIMBERL Y goes on sleeping. It tears off the door of the pub, uproots a lamppost and bends it double, and so on.
It sees Kimberly at last, approaches her sleeping form with a mixture of dim-witted awe and lust, after the fashion of King Kong. It decides to do something with her—whether to rape her or abduct her or consume her, it is not clear.
We never find out, for just in the nick of time, LEGHORN enters with his pistol cocked and aimed. He is followed by SAM, SALLY, and JERRY.]
LEGHORN: Reach for the sky.
Palm Sunday, Welcome to the Monkey House Page 54
