by Ian Doescher
The careful and consider’d grades they gave?
CHER
’Tis simple: each semester have I done,
For teachers are like clay within my hands,
And I a master potter at the wheel.
JOSH
I’ll wager thou shalt throw but heaps of mud.
CHER We shall see who is wrong or right. Adieu.
[Exit Cher.
JOSH
Ah, though she be but little, she is fierce,
And hath a pleasing moxie, though I think
Her hollow as a log, so empty that
A skulk of foxes may reside therein.
Why doth she wend her way inside my soul,
To nettle and exasperate me so?
She is a silly girl, and nothing more—
Why do her insults, then, infect my mind
As if they were the words of holy writ?
Forget the matter, Josh, and move thou on.
Though we awhile may see each other more,
Unto thy heart to her ope not the door.
[Exit.
Westside Pavilion mall.
Enter CHER, holding bags.
CHER
Most teachers took the bait as I had hop’d—
In education physical, I told
My tutor that a spiteful, brutal man
Had rent my heart in twain deceitfully,
Told her how I could neither eat nor sleep,
So painful was the matter twixt we two.
She comprehended, totally agreed,
For she was ne’er enamor’d of their sex.
She gladly rais’d my C unto a B—
Concerning unto Better in a trice.
I promis’d Lady Geist that I would start
A movement, a campaign of letters sent
Unto the halls of Congress to object
To violations of the Clean Air Act.
One stone, though, even I—a mighty force—
Still found immovable and could not budge;
Firm Master Hall was rigid as a rock,
And thrice as hard. He labell’d my debates
Unresearch’d, unconvincing, and unstructur’d—
As if! As if no research I had done,
As if mine arguments did not persuade,
As if my points flow’d not sequentially,
As if I were no expert of debate!
I felt most impotent and sans control,
Which is a hateful, irritating state.
Some sanctuary needed I, wherein
To gather all my thoughts in one accord,
Regain my strength, that I might be prepar’d
To charge, renew’d, once more unto the breach.
’Tis wherefore I have come unto this place,
This refuge mine: Westside Pavilion mall.
Enter DIONNE.
DIONNE
What is the matter on thy heart, sweet friend?
Thy visage darkens like a dusky eve.
Dost suffer the remorse of buyers’ minds?
CHER
Nay, nothing purchas’d yet hath turn’d regret.
All day within these markets have I roam’d,
Procuring garments new and sundry trifles,
Yet inspiration’s thunderbolt strikes not.
No lightning comes, illumining the case
Of Master Hall and how to change his mind.
Much I’ve attempted to convince him of
Mine excellent scholastic aptitude,
Yet I was brutally rebuff’d each time.
DIONNE
Be done with all thy Herculean efforts—
He is a little, miserable man
Who would make all as desolate as he.
CHER
Thou hast it, Dee! A true advisor, thou!
We must make him exceedingly content.
Think thou of all we know of Master Hall:
The man is single, sans a paramour,
His age is forty-seven, not a youth,
He earneth minor ducats at a job
Wherein he garners little gratitude.
He needeth boinkage in his boring bed.
Unfortunately, his romantic options
Are few and far between within our school,
A drought of eligible bach’lorettes,
A female famine for his feasting fire.
The evil, trollish women who teach math
Have husbands, which is most incalculable.
The grand tradition of sport teachers lives,
As Lady Stoeger plays but women’s games.
Yet what of Lady Geist? I’ll not discount
Th’inherent possibilities therein.
Yea, she is oft beset by running stockings,
A slip that e’er peeks out beneath her skirt,
More paint upon her teeth than on her lips—
She nearly screams for renovation full.
We two may be the woman’s only hope!
Upon the instant, we’ll enact our plan:
To bring good Lady Geist and Master Hall
Into a mountain of affection, th’one
With th’other. I would fain have it a match,
And I doubt not but soon to fashion it.
[She picks up a quill and paper.
I’ll write a letter, signèd only by
One who doth call himself Admirer Secret.
[Writing:] “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of
May,
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.”
DIONNE
Didst thou create those words, thou clever bard?
CHER
Nay, ’tis a quote from poet much renown’d,
Whom all do read and love—or someday will.
DIONNE
Who is the writer, for I know them not?
CHER
One Clifton Hillegass, of CliffsNotes fame.
We’ll place the letter in her postal box,
And set her in the path of Master Hall.
If we can do this, Cupid is no longer
An archer—yea, his glory shall be ours,
For we’re the only love gods, verily.
Come, let us put the plan to action now,
And tie the cords of love round them somehow.
[Exeunt.
Bronson Alcott High School.
Enter LADY TOBY GEIST.
GEIST
When love unbidden comes, who can but heed?
This morn, whilst unsuspecting I did go
About the business of a normal day,
Stopp’d I within the office of the school
To check my mailbox, which is normally
A task quotidian that merely bores—
Some papers, memoranda, and that sort
Of necessary academic matters.
What mighty change came o’er the mail today!
’Twas like a sorcerer had touch’d the box,
Transforming it to a romantic thing.
First did I notice the red rose within,
As colorful as blood that quickens when
A lover whispers in another’s ear.
The scent—how fragrant, as if someone had
Caught loveliness itself within a smell.
The situation, though, grew finer yet—
The rose became the secondary thrill
When I espied the note that ’neath it sat.
In simple letters, penn’d by tender hand,
There was a verse of passing beauty writ,
With signature of one Admirer Secret.
Admirer? Of myself? How can it be?
Ne’er did I think to be the center of
A romance, intrigue, passion such as this.
Who at the school—for surely it must be
A member of the staff who sent the note—
Hath eyes for one so humble as myself,
Whose homely face and horrible complexion
Hath caus’d all fervent hope to disappear
Of ever winning any man’s affection?
The smile that blossom’d on my startled face
Hath only widen’d since this morning’s gift.
Admirer Secret, answer shall I give,
For by thine ardor, I know thou art true.
I must discover who thou art, sweet friend,
That our two hearts may be combin’d as one!
[Exit.
Enter CHER and DIONNE.
DIONNE
Didst see the look upon the lady’s face
When she did ope the letter thou didst send?
How happy look’d she, more than e’er I saw.
CHER
A classic tale of romance halfway told—
We must yet seize upon the other half.
[They walk into Master Hall’s classroom.
Enter MASTER WENDELL HALL. Enter MURRAY, TRAVIS, ELTON, and other STUDENTS, taking their seats.
HALL
Now Paroudasm Banofshon, thou hast
Full sixteen tardies thou must work to clear.
PAROUD.
Sag-e anntar goosaley-e goh—ha!
HALL
Good Janet Hong, no tardies on thy record.
[Janet smiles.
But Travis Birkenstock hath thirty-eight,
By far the most, as if thou sought the record!
Congratulations.
[All applaud.
TRAVIS
—Unexpected!
No speech prepar’d I for this honor.
These few words, though, I’d gladly utter:
The tardy life’s the work of many—
My tardiness by many people
Created was. Yea, I am grateful
Unto my parents, ne’er rides giving,
The drivers of the L. A. buses
Who took a chance upon an unknown.
Last—not the least—the wonderful crew
At old McDonalds Inn, that spendeth
Their hours at cooking Egg McMuffins,
Sans which I never might be tardy.
HALL
Would that thy discourse ever wert so clear.
An thou no messages political
Hast to impart, I shall proceed anon.
CHER
Horowitz, two tardies.
CHER
—I object!
Recallest thou the dates of these alleg’d
And heinous tardies thou accus’st me of?
HALL
One fell upon last Monday.
CHER
—Master Hall,
I was a rider of the crimson tide,
Awash within the surf of burgundy,
My pelvic boat most verily maroon’d.
Unto the bathroom I did swiftly fly
To capsize not into the vast red sea.
HALL
Thou speakest of thy women’s troubles, so
The tardy I shall graciously forgive.
CHER
My gratitude. [Aside:] And now to hook the fish.
[To Hall:] Fair Lady Geist spake truly of thy kindness.
HALL
What meanest thou?
CHER
—She said, to me alone,
That thou art th’only person at the school
Who hath a tittle of intelligence.
[The bell rings. All exeunt except Master Hall.
HALL
My Lady Geist—indeed, can this be true?
Stand I condemn’d by crabbiness so much?
All pettiness and petulance, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Lady Geist, love on; I will requite thee,
Moving mine old heart to thy loving hand:
If thou dost love, mine int’rest shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band;
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Shall with thy wooing, loving heart comply.
[Exit.
The Horowitz house and Bronson Alcott High School.
Enter CHER and MEL HOROWITZ.
MEL
A word with thee, my daughter.
CHER
—Father, what?
MEL
A message was deliver’d unto me,
Of which I’d gladly hear thine explanation.
[He hands her a paper.
CHER
[reading:] “A second notice of outstanding tickets.”
Ne’er was first notice given me, in sooth.
MEL
The tickets thou receiv’dst were thy first notice.
How didst thou, sans a license, tickets earn?
CHER
’Tis simple; tickets come most easily,
Most anytime they haply wander by.
MEL
Not in my household, nay. From this time hence,
Thou shalt no cart nor carriage operate,
Nor sit therein sans supervision of
A licens’d driver watching over thee,
Which meaneth cruising not with Dionne, either.
Two permits equal not one license whole—
’Tis neither mathematics nor the law.
Are my words clear enow?
CHER
—Yea, father kind.
MEL
It is the fondest hope of me, thy father,
That thou becom’st a driver safe and good.
When thou dost put thy mind unto the task,
Thou mayst accomplish nearly anything.
CHER
I shall, and with new purpose soon will practice.
MEL
’Tis well. And now to work. Adieu, dear heart.
[Exit Mel.
CHER
A licens’d driver who hath naught to do—
Where shall I find a loser such as this,
A unicorn of such partic’lar skill?
Ah, Josh approacheth, as if summon’d by
Mine urgent need, his horn already prim’d.
Enter JOSH, reading.
JOSH
[aside:] Past good and evil is the will to pow’r,
The dawn of day shall see the antichrist—
At least, so writes this grim philosopher.
CHER
What is upon thy chin, granola breath?
Some dirt? Perchance a speck of errant dust?
Or is it manly hair that I espy?
JOSH
A fash’nable goatee thereon doth grow.
CHER
’Tis well, for then thou shalt not be the last
Who, in the coffeehouse, some chin pubes hath.
JOSH
Words fail t’express how much my heart doth leap
When we have conversations such as this,
For always ’tis a joy to speak with thee.
’Tis clear, however, that thou something want’st,
So wherefore not save us both energy
And time, and tell me what thou wilt anon.
CHER
Indeed. My driver’s permit I possess,
With which I am allow’d to drive, yet Father
Saith he’d not have me take the carriage out
Sans someone licens’d who would go withal.
Thou hast no matters of importance—
JOSH
—Ha!
What chance have I that thou shalt shut thy mouth
Ere thou convincest me to do thy bidding?
/> CHER
In sooth, ’tis slim to none. Let us away!
JOSH
[aside:] I’ll go, for I am human, all too human.
[They climb into the carriage.
Cher drives as Josh observes.
[To Cher:] Thou drivest like James Bond, the British spy,
And I’ve no time to die today, in sooth!
Yet in America we drive upon
The right side of the road, Cher, not the left.
CHER
An thou didst hold the reins in platform shoes,
’Twould not be easy for thee either, Josh.
JOSH
Soon I must make return unto my school.
Wouldst practice parking, ere our time is through?
CHER
What need have I to park, when nearly each
Establishment hath valets for the task?
JOSH
[aside:] By heav’n, the lass is spoil’d like worm-fill’d fruit.
CHER
What class is thine today?
JOSH
—If thou wouldst know,
I have a meeting with TreePeople now—
’Tis possible Sir Mark E. Mark shall come
To plant a tree and, by the action, shall
Share his celebrity with our good cause.
CHER
How fabulous, Sir Mark E. Mark indeed!
A wonder ’tis he hath the time for ye—
Amidst his active, busy calendar
Of dropping pantaloons—to plant a tree.
Why would your group not hire a gardener?
JOSH
Perchance Sir Mark E. Mark doth wish to use
His popularity for acts of good
And make a contribution to the world?
In case the word is foreign to thine ears,
A contribution is—
CHER
—Excuse me, imp,
Full many fine Italian outfits have
I giv’n to Lucy, and when I procure
My license, I shall brake for animals.
Additionally, I have spent my time
In helping lonely souls—two teachers mine—
Find romance in their sad and empty lives.
JOSH
Belike such serves thine in’trests more than theirs.
If e’er an action of the noble Cher
Were not nine parts of ten her benefit,
’Tis possible I’d die of instant shock.
CHER
Such would be impetus enow for me.
[They arrive at Cher’s school.
Cher climbs out of the carriage.
JOSH
Our lesson endeth for the present time.
Mine impetus is to leave is strong, since thou
Hast call’d me imp and wish’d mine early death.
Farewell. Enjoy thy perfect, pleasant life.
