by Ian Doescher
If my mind were not caught in such a fog,
Disrupted by the lack of food below’t,
Belike I could discover just the word—
Gerhunan? It doth start with growling sound,
The grr my belly maketh even now.
Anhunger? This doth ring with Cockney tones
And satisfieth not discerning ears.
Alas, the word escapes me vexingly—
I cannot think of it, which maketh angry!
Enter CHER and JOSH, delivering food for the clerks, which they begin eating voraciously.
CHER
[aside:] This midnight feast is a phenomenon,
Reviving all the lawyers’ flagging moods!
MEL
Delicious meat to fill a belly bare,
’Tis not mere beef, ’tis banquet of the gods,
Which grants we humans immortality.
CHER
Nay, Father, thou must not ingest the meat,
For it shall not thine arteries abet.
The salad—eat the salad, for thy health!
MEL
Thou hast my gratitude for bringing this
Much-needed banquet. Yet thou also earn’st
My deep frustration by thy prohibition!
Get hence, sweet daughter—let me eat, this once!
[Exeunt Mel and clerks, eating. Josh and Cher sit on a sofa together, listening to a music box.
CHER
Though it shall seem unusual, sans doubt,
Oft I have more enjoyment of a night
In quiet entertainment, spent inside,
Than at a party, dancing all the night.
Belike ’tis that my festival attire
Constricts my movements most uncomfortably.
JOSH
How many hours each day dost thou expend
In grooming?
CHER
—Some are not as fortunate
As thee, so natur’lly adorable.
JOSH
Cease, prithee, for thou causest me to blush.
CHER
A blush with which I’d never paint myself.
JOSH
How, then, shall I help thee unto a groom?
GAIL
[offstage:] O son, my Josh? What, lamb! What, laddie bird!
JOSH
My mother, fie! I fain would hide from her—
I prithee, Cher, if ever thou wert kind,
Tell not my mother where I may be found!
He hides behind an arras. Enter GAIL.
GAIL
O, Cher, ’tis thee. An unexpected joy.
My son, is he herein? I’d speak with him.
Hath he been cleaning out thine ice house with
His appetite ne’er-ending?
CHER
—Nay, ex-step,
He is not here, nor hath been, nor shall be.
Try thou the dormitory where he liveth—
Belike he spends the evening studying.
GAIL
A scholar from the minute he was born.
My thanks, Cher, for thy helpfulness.
CHER
—Farewell.
[Exit Gail. Josh comes forward.
JOSH
Thou art most gracious and kindhearted, lass—
Thy quality of mercy is not strain’d.
CHER
Why wouldst thou hide from thine own mother, Josh?
JOSH
My school’s spring holidays are near enow,
And she would have me to the nest return.
CHER
But thou wouldst fly the coop. Yet wherefore so?
No other little chicks shall be in school—
Why, then, hie not beneath thy mother’s wings?
JOSH
The rooster—husband number four is he—
Doth rule the roost. He’s foolish as a fowl,
Believing acting like a family
Means he may criticize and peck at me
Whenever and however he desires.
CHER
How shalt thou pass the dreary fortnight’s span?
Wilt thou go roaming round the campus by
Thyself and haunt the buildings as if thou
Wert spectral and the school thy haunted house?
JOSH
I do not mind the time alone.
CHER
—Hast thou
Lost all thy sense and sensibility?
Come hither to the house, take thine old room,
And join thou in the balls that we shall host.
JOSH
Nay, but I thank thee.
CHER
—Wherefore wilt thou not?
JOSH
Thou hast a social galaxy entire—
The planets, moons, and quasars in their courses,
With thee, the bright sun, at its center point—
Therein would I be mere impediment.
CHER
Thou couldst ne’er be impediment, in sooth.
JOSH
Wouldst thou want some ex-half-stepbrother type
To orbit round thy dances and soirées?
CHER
Though once our parents were conjoin’d, thou art
No brother mine.
JOSH
—Yet thou dost know my meaning.
CHER
Have some excitement in thy gloomy life—
The universe shines brightly when one sees
The stars of all the firmament array’d.
Thou shalt replenish’d be for thine exams,
Which even thou—whose head may sometimes be
As rigid as a meteor—canst see.
JOSH
Thou hast o’erwhelm’d my better sense with this,
Thine otherworldly pow’r of argument.
CHER
’Tis well—such fun we’ll have!
JOSH
—How did I come
Unto the point where I accept advice
From one who liketh drawings in her books?
CHER
I’ll not take heed whilst thou insult’st Sirs Wren
And Stimpious, who are philosophers
Most existential. For, as it is said,
Cogito ergo stultus sum, in sooth.
JOSH
The words outpouring from thine untrain’d mouth:
Hast e’en a jot or tittle of what thou
Art saying?
CHER
—Nay, yet sound as though I do!
Alas, the heaviness of sleep o’ercomes me,
And I must to my room. Good night, kind Josh.
[Exit Cher.
JOSH
She hath invited me to spend my school’s
Spring holidays residing in this house.
Although her heart toward her Christian turns,
I cannot be dismay’d at this event—
This sudden warmth in our relationship.
Such I’ll not press, but let fate take its time
And see what doth transpire in th’interim.
Who knows but that we two may yet be friends?
Bewildering’s her attitude to me,
Yet ’tis a wonder I’ll bear happily.
[Exit.
The Horowitz house.
Enter CHER and DIONNE.
CHER
My Christian said that he would call on me
Upon the morrow, which, in boyish time,
Translates to Thursday. Pray imagine, then,
My great surprise that he shall come tonight!
He wishes to deliver merriments—
A newfound form of entertainment, which
As yet
is unbeknownst to me, and that
The two of us together shall explore.
A night alone with Christian! This is why
I’ve sent for thee, to reinforce my nerves.
DIONNE
A lighting concept for thy sitting room
We must design, to set the mood aright,
And then decide what garments thou shalt wear—
A costume fit for catching stylish lads.
CHER
The mirror telleth naught but lies to me—
Pray, render me a portrait I shall see.
[Dionne draws Cher in various outfits.
DIONNE
’Tis said that when a lad doth come to call,
One must have foodstuffs cooking on a spit,
With fine aromas to ensnare the nose,
Which shall lead him to thee like fish on hook.
CHER
An excellent suggestion, verily—
I’ll put this lump of flesh upon the flames
And let the fragrance waft to Christian’s nostrils.
[They put meat over the fire.
My face, methinks, still hath a reddish hue.
DIONNE
I’ll paint thee to appear as white as snow,
Yet thou art flush’d, and must unwind thy nerves,
Which yet are tightly coil’d, an ’twere a spring.
CHER
As I bethink upon my maidenhead,
How happy am I that I spent it not
On someone for whom feelings were lukewarm.
My Christian is a most attractive man;
This night shall I remember evermore.
DIONNE
Blot now thy lips—thou art as ready as
Thou canst be.
CHER
—Thank you, Dionne, for thy help.
[A bell rings.
Ah! Christian comes, mine evening must begin.
DIONNE
This is my cue to exit instantly—
Farewell, sweet Cher, and may thine evening shine!
[Exit Dionne. Cher answers the door.
Enter CHRISTIAN, bearing picture book merriments, playbills, and portraits.
CHRISTIAN
Good even, miss.
CHER
—Holla.
CHRISTIAN
—Doth something burn?
I sense a smoldering within the air,
As if ’twere Mass with extra thuribles.
CHER
Alas—the meat!
[They rush to the kitchen, where the meat is burning. Cher quickly removes it from the fire.
CHRISTIAN
—My sweet, thou cook’d for me.
’Tis like we two are married and play house.
CHER
I tried, yet fail’d.
CHRISTIAN
—Show me thine ample home.
[They begin walking around the house.
Thy father hath well-rounded tastes in art,
And his collection shows variety.
CHER
He is no connoisseur of art, yet saith
To purchase artwork is a venture sound.
CHRISTIAN
He is no fool, thy father—quite astute.
This sculpture is Claes Oldenburg, methinks.
CHER
A sculptor of renown and worldwide fame.
CHRISTIAN
This other piece is older, canst thou see?
Transitional—a most important piece.
CHER
[aside:] Who knew he was so riveted by art?
Would he not rather bed me than display
That he knows ev’ry style of furniture?
[To Christian:] Shall we do as merfolk are wont to do,
And take a plunge within my fam’ly’s pool?
CHRISTIAN
An occupation far too wet by half—
Let us inside, to view my merriments.
[They go inside and lounge together on a bed, looking at Christian’s picture book merriments, playbills, and portraits.
CHER
[aside:] Whilst ordinarily this entertainment 60
Would hold some fascination for me, now
It seemeth this is only a delay,
A prelude to the evening’s main event.
These pictures are delightful, in their way,
Yet I am much distracted presently.
My Christian loves the artist Tony Curtis
And brought a number of his pictures here:
Spartronicus and As Some Like It Hot.
I’ll let him know of mine intentions with
A subtle sweeping of my supple foot.
[She rubs her foot against Christian, and he moves away uncomfortably.
CHRISTIAN
Is this a game of footsie thou wouldst play?
CHER
My feet are cold; I hop’d thou wouldst give warmth.
CHRISTIAN
This well-fluff’d pillow, o’er the top of them,
Shall give thee all the heat thou canst desire.
[He places a pillow upon her feet.
View what comes next, for ’tis a thrilling part.
CHER
[aside:] Alas, unto the pages he doth turn,
As if his picture books were ev’rything!
I’ll make my face the sign of wantonness,
That he may know here lies a much-inclin’d—
[She tries to look alluring and, in doing so, loses her balance and falls off the bed.
CHRISTIAN
Art thou well, Cher?
CHER
—In troth, ne’er was I better.
Wouldst thou have aught to drink? Perhaps some wine,
To lubricate the workings of our night?
CHRISTIAN
Nay—hast thou notic’d wine has the effect
Of making people emphasize their sex?
CHER
Yet ’tis no bother. ’Tis a glad result,
If thus to emphasize may further lead,
Attended with the pleasures of the world.
CHRISTIAN
[aside:] Alas, a lass again caught ’neath my spell,
Though I desire it not nor wish’d it so.
[To Cher:] My spirit hath grown tir’d, and I must leave.
CHER
Some coffee shall revive thy spirit faint!
CHRISTIAN
Mine ulcer shall be writhing if I drink’t.
CHER
Yet thou had many cappuccinos once
And made no mention of an ulcer’s pain.
CHRISTIAN
’Tis mostly foam, which—like the seaside’s waves,
Which do but stand upon the foaming shore—
Doth grant one health, detracting not therefrom.
CHER
Wilt thou be gone so soon?
CHRISTIAN
—Pray, hear me, Cher:
Thou art a wonder. Are we two not friends?
CHER
We are.
CHRISTIAN
—Grant me a kiss upon my cheek.
[She kisses his cheek.
My maiden sweet, farewell.
[Exit Christian.
CHER
—What scene was this?
Have I some fault—can flat hair blamèd be?
Did I upon some awkward lighting fall?
O Christian, if thou couldst but tell me what
I did that hath so disenchanted thee,
’Twill be address’d! The problem must be me.
[Exit.
The streets of Beverly Hills.
Enter DIONNE and MURRAY, driving in her carriage.
DIONNE
A mes
sage I receiv’d from Cher today,
Who told me of her disappointing night
With her perplexing newfound paramour.
She is confounded by the manner that
He did display when they had time alone.
I bid thee, hound her not for details, please,
For she is delicate and vulnerable.
MURRAY
More worried over thy new driving skills
Am I than over Cher’s romantic life.
Upon the theme of Cher and her new beau,
I shall withhold my tongue and be like one
Who doth but listen, with no pow’r to speak.
DIONNE
Thou, Murray, art a worthy gentleman.
Enter CHER, climbing into the carriage with them. They drive on.
CHER
Directly to the point, my caring friends—
What’s wrong with me, that someone would not take
Delight in mine appearance or myself?
DIONNE
Belike the lad was truly tir’d, ’tis all.
CHER
Perhaps the match was not our destiny—
The lad doth finer garments own than mine.
What could I bring to such relationship?
MURRAY
[to Dionne:] Beware of all the lanes—an thou wouldst change,
What must thou do?
DIONNE
—First, make my signal clear.
[She begins to signal and turns her head aside.
MURRAY
Nay, watch the road, or thou mayst wreck us.
DIONNE
—Tut!
Thy shouting shall not calm my weary nerves.
Next, in my mirror gaze, that I may view
Another carriage coming up behind,
And check the blind spot, to be wholly safe.
[She turns her head, and the carriage swerves wildly.
MURRAY
Turn with thy head yet not the carriage whole!
By heaven, lass, thy driving wretchèd is!
DIONNE
I shall not hear thee, who would silent be.
MURRAY
My silence was not promis’d unto thee.
CHER
To be capricious o’er my maidenhood
Was foolish—glad am I that nothing came.
Dee, nearly did I give myself to him.
MURRAY
Who is this man, who hath rejected thee?
CHER
’Twas Christian, who hath nearly ta’en my sex.
[Murray laughs heartily.
DIONNE
So quickly turn’d from listen unto laugh?
What is so humorous?
MURRAY
—Are ye both blind?
Hath aught affected your collective eyes,
That ye see not the matter, which is clear
To anyone who hath the pow’r of sight?
Thy would-be paramour, this Christian, is
Less likely to be lover than be squire,
