by David Mamet
SIXTH VARIATION What Kind Of A World Is It
SEVENTH VARIATION Yes, In Many Ways
EIGHTH VARIATION Ahh, I Don't Know
NINTH VARIATION At The Zoo They Got Ducks
TENTH VARIATION It's A Crying Shame
ELEVENTH VARIATION You Know, I Remember
TWELFTH VARIATION Whenever I Think Of Wild Flying Things
THIRTEENTH VARIATION They Stuff Them
FOURTEENTH VARIATION For Centuries Prior To This Time
FIRST VARIATION
“It's Nice, The Park Is Nice”
EMIL: It's Nice.
GEORGE: The Park is nice.
EMIL: You forget.
GEORGE: . . . you remember.
EMIL: I don't know . . .
GEORGE: What's to know? There's a boat!
EMIL: So early?
GEORGE: I suppose so. . . . because there it is.
EMIL: I wonder if it's cold out there.
GEORGE: There, here, it's like it is today. How it is today, that's how it is.
EMIL: But the boat is moving . . .
GEORGE: So it's colder in relation how fast the boat is going.
EMIL: The water is colder than the land.
GEORGE: So it's cold in relation to the water.
EMIL: So it's a different temperature on the boat than on a bench.
GEORGE: They probably got sweaters.
EMIL: There's more than one in the boat?
GEORGE: Wait till they come round again.
EMIL: Where did they go?
GEORGE: Over there, behind the pier, where could they go?
EMIL: Not far . . . it's expensive a boat.
GEORGE: They care?
EMIL: No.
GEORGE: If they got the money for a boat, they can afford it.
EMIL: It's not cheap.
GEORGE: I said it was cheap?
EMIL: Even a small boat.
GEORGE: I know it's not cheap.
EMIL: Even a very small boat is expensive.
GEORGE: Many times a small boat is even more expensive.
EMIL: Ah.
GEORGE: Depending . . .
EMIL: Mmm.
GEORGE: On many factors.
EMIL: Mmm.
GEORGE: . . . the size of the boat . . .
EMIL: Yes.
GEORGE: . . . the engine.
EMIL: Yes. The size of the engine.
GEORGE: Certainly, certainly.
EMIL: The speed of the engine.
GEORGE: Many factors.
EMIL: The speed of the boat.
GEORGE: That. None of it's cheap. It's all very intricate.
EMIL: Cars.
GEORGE: Boats, cars . . . air travel. The military. It was never cheap.
EMIL: Housing.
GEORGE (looks): There's two of them in the boat.
EMIL: It's the same boat?
GEORGE: How many boats have we seen today?
EMIL: That's what I'm asking.
GEORGE: One.
EMIL (looks): Another boat!
GEORGE: One, two . . .
EMIL: A real clipper, too.
GEORGE: Where?
EMIL: Look at her will ya!
GEORGE: That?
EMIL: What else? Go, sister!
GEORGE: That?
EMIL: Sure as shootin’.
GEORGE: That's the water pump.
EMIL: That?
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: That?
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: The pump house?
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: She's the water pump?
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: . . . look at her float.
GEORGE: Mmm.
EMIL: Look at her . . . just sit there.
GEORGE: Mmm.
EMIL: All year ‘round.
GEORGE: I'll give you that.
EMIL: What a life.
GEORGE: Ducks!
EMIL: Where?
GEORGE: Where I'm pointing.
EMIL: Ahh.
GEORGE: A sure sign of spring.
EMIL: Autumn, too.
GEORGE: Uh huh.
EMIL: . . . you see them . . .
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: They go south . . .
GEORGE: Urn.
EMIL: They come back . . .
GEORGE: Ummm.
EMIL: They live . . .
GEORGE: They go . . .
EMIL: Ahhh.
GEORGE: Ducks like to go . . .
EMIL: . . . yes?
GEORGE: Where it's nice . . .
EMIL: Ehhh?
GEORGE: At that time!
EMIL: Of course.
GEORGE: And they're made so they just go. Something inside says it's getting a little cold . . . a little too cold . . .
EMIL: Like humans, they don't like cold.
GEORGE: And there they go.
EMIL: There they go.
GEORGE: And the same when it's warm.
EMIL: They come back.
GEORGE: They got a leader. A lead duck. He starts . . . he's a duck. But he stays with the pack. Many times. He comes, he goes. He learns the route. Maybe he's got a little more on the ball.
EMIL: All this time there is another lead duck.
GEORGE: Of course. But He, he goes, he lives, maybe he finds a mate . . .
EMIL: Yes.
GEORGE: And he waits. . . . The lead duck . . . who knows?
EMIL: He dies.
GEORGE: One day, yes. He dies. He gets lost . . .
EMIL: And our duck moves up.
GEORGE: He is now the leader. It is he who guides them from one home to the next. They all know the way. Each of them has it in him to know when the time is to move. . . . But he . . . He will be in charge until . . .
EMIL: Yes.
GEORGE: Just like the other one . . .
EMIL: There's no shame in that.
GEORGE: Just like the previous duck . . .
EMIL: It happened to him, it's got to happen to him.
GEORGE: The time comes to step down.
EMIL: He dies.
GEORGE: He dies, he leaves . . . something. And another duck moves on up.
EMIL: And someday.
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: Someone will take his place.
GEORGE: Until . . .
EMIL: It's boring just to think about it.
SECOND VARIATION
“The Duck's Life”
GEORGE: You know, the duck's life is not all hearts and flowers. He's got his worries, too. He's got fleas and lice and diseases of the body. Delusions. Wing problems. Sexual difficulties. Many things.
EMIL: It's not an easy life.
GEORGE: Only the beginning. The duck is at the mercy of any elements in the vicinity. Sunspots. Miscarriage. Inappropriate changes in the weather.
EMIL: Yes.
GEORGE: Hunters. Blight. Tornadoes. Traps. Any number of airplanes.
EMIL: Small vicious children.
GEORGE: Chainstores. And, of course, the Blue Heron.
EMIL: Blue Heron?
GEORGE: The hereditary Enemy of the Duck.
EMIL: Yeah?
GEORGE: It's what they call symbiosis. They both live to insure the happiness of each other. The Blue Herons eat ducks, and the duck . . .
EMIL: Yes?
GEORGE: The duck's part of the bargain . . .
EMIL: Is to be eaten by the Heron?
GEORGE: Is to . . . Well it slips me for the moment, but it's not as one-sided as it might appear. Nature has given the duck speed and endurance and the art of concealment. She has made the Heron large and unwieldy and blue to be able to spot at a distance. On the other hand he has the benefits of size and occasional camouflage should he come up against something blue.
EMIL: And shaped like a bird.
GEORGE: Not always necessary. The battle between the two is as old as time. The ducks propagating, the Herons eating them. The Herons multiplying and losing great numbers to exhaust
ion in the never-ending chase of the duck. Each keeping the other in check, down through history, until a bond of unspoken friendship and respect unites them, even in the embrace of death.
EMIL: So why do they continue to fight?
GEORGE: Survival of the fittest. The never-ending struggle between heredity and environment. The urge to combat. Old as the oceans. Instilled in us all. Who can say to what purpose?
EMIL: Who?
GEORGE: We do not know. But this much we do know. As long as the duck exists, he will battle day and night, sick and well with the Heron, for so is it writ. And as long as the sky is made dark with the wing of the Monster Bird, the Heron will feast on duck.
THIRD VARIATION
“Also They Got Barnyard Ducks”
EMIL: Also they got barnyard ducks.
GEORGE: Yeah. I know.
EMIL: That they raise for Easter and Thanksgiving.
GEORGE: You're thinking of Turkeys.
EMIL: Also ducks.
GEORGE: They keep ‘em? In captivity?
EMIL: Yeah. In the Barnyard. They clip their wings.
GEORGE: Uh.
EMIL: Yeah. What? You can't put ‘em on their honor?!
GEORGE: Times have changed.
EMIL: Vandalism . . . . . . they fat ‘em up. They feed ‘em, the farmers, on special mixtures. Corn, and maybe an oat. And they got special injections they give ‘em. To keep ‘em happy.
GEORGE: And they can't fly.
EMIL: No.
GEORGE: All with wildness is gone.
EMIL: Just walking around the farm all day. Eating.
GEORGE: They're allowed to mate?
EMIL: This we do not know.
GEORGE: Eh?
EMIL: Only a few farmers know this.
GEORGE: Yeah?
EMIL: The mating of ducks is a private matter between the duck in question and his mate.
GEORGE: Yeah?
EMIL: It is a thing which few White men have witnessed. . . . And those who claim to have seen it . . . strangely do not wish to speak.
GEORGE: There are things we're better off not to know.
EMIL: If you don't know, you never can be forced to tell.
GEORGE: They don't got those beaks for nothing.
EMIL: Nothing is for Nothing.
GEORGE: Too true.
EMIL: Everything has got a purpose.
GEORGE: True. . . .
EMIL: Every blessed thing . . .
GEORGE: Oh yes.
EMIL: . . . that lives has got a purpose.
GEORGE: Ducks . . .
EMIL: Sweat glands . . .
GEORGE: Yeah.
EMIL: We don't sweat for nothing, you know.
GEORGE: I know it.
EMIL: Everything that lives must sweat.
GEORGE: It's all got a purpose.
EMIL: It's all got a rhyme and a reason.
GEORGE: The purpose of sweat is, in itself, not clear.
EMIL: Yes . . .
GEORGE: But . . . there it is.
EMIL: A purpose and a reason. Even those we, at this time, do not clearly understand.
GEORGE: Sure as shootin’.
EMIL: The yearly migration of the duck, to mate and take a little rest . . .
GEORGE: Purpose.
EMIL: Sweat . . .
GEORGE: Purpose.
EMIL: There's nothing you could possibly name that doesn't have a purpose. Don't even bother to try. Don't waste your time.
GEORGE: I'm in no hurry.
EMIL: It's all got a purpose. The very fact that you are sitting here right now on this bench has got a purpose.
GEORGE: And so, by process of elimination, does the bench.
EMIL: Now you're talking sense.
GEORGE: Darn Tootin’.
EMIL: The law of the universe is a law unto itself.
GEORGE: Yes. Yes.
EMIL: And woe be to the man who fools around.
GEORGE: You can't get away with nothing.
EMIL: And if you could it would have a purpose.
GEORGE: Nobody knows that better than me.
EMIL: . . . Well put.
FOURTH VARIATION
“The Duck Is Not Like Us”
EMIL: The duck is not like us, you know.
GEORGE: How so?
EMIL: The Duck is an egg-bearing creature.
GEORGE: And we're not, I suppose?
EMIL: I didn't say that. The young of the duck at birth are already trained to do things most humans learn only much later. Swim. Follow their mother.
GEORGE: Fly.
EMIL: No. I don't believe they can fly until later life.
GEORGE: But it's possible.
EMIL: It's possible, but you're wrong.
GEORGE: . . . As a matter of fact I do remember reading somewhere that many small ducks do possess the ability to fly at birth.
EMIL: I do think you are mistaken.
GEORGE: No. It could be. . . . But no.
EMIL: Yes. I believe you're sadly wrong.
GEORGE: No. I wouldn't swear to it. . . .
EMIL: No.
GEORGE: But I'd almost swear I've read that somewhere. . . .
EMIL: Yes, I'm fairly sure you're wrong on that one point.
GEORGE: Some little-known group of ducks.
EMIL: No. All my knowledge of nature tells me I must say no.
GEORGE: A very small group of ducks.
EMIL: I can not let that by.
GEORGE: But I think . . .
EMIL: It's possible you misread the . . .
GEORGE: Possibly, but . . .
EMIL: No, no. No. I must still stick to my saying no. No.
GEORGE: . . . Perhaps I misread it. What a thing, however. To be able to fly. In later life.
EMIL: Swimming ain't so bad either.
GEORGE: But any fool who knows how to swim can swim. It takes a bird to Fly.
EMIL: Insects also fly.
GEORGE: But not in the same category.
EMIL: Insects . . . birds and insects and . . . I could be wrong but . . .
GEORGE: You are wrong. Nothing else flies.
FIFTH VARIATION
“Did You Know What I Was Reading”
GEORGE: Did you know what I was reading Somewhere?
EMIL: Don't start.
GEORGE: About the Stratosphere. The Stratosphere, particularly the lower stratosphere, is becoming messy with gook.
EMIL: Eh?
GEORGE: According to the weatherman.
EMIL: Our Stratosphere?
GEORGE: Everybody's. Because it's all the same thing.
EMIL: Eh?
GEORGE: As if you drop a pebble in a pond and the ripples spread you-know-not-where . . .
EMIL: Yes?
GEORGE: So, when you stick shit up in the Stratosphere . . .
EMIL: Yes?
GEORGE: You got the same problem.
EMIL: What kind of gook?
GEORGE: All kinds. Dirt . . .
EMIL: Yes.
GEORGE: Gook . . .
EMIL: No good.
GEORGE: Automotive . . .
EMIL: Yeah.
GEORGE: Cigarette smoke. It's all up there. It's not going anywhere.
EMIL: Yeah.
GEORGE: They're finding out many things about the world we live in from the air.
EMIL: Yes.
GEORGE: For, in Many ways . . . the air is more a part of our world than we would like to admit. Think about it.
EMIL: I will.
GEORGE: Planes that come down, they got to wash ‘em right away. They go up clean, they come down filthy.
EMIL: Yes.
GEORGE: But the creatures with no choice: Insects, ducks.
EMIL: Gliders.
GEORGE: It's a shame. They should be shot.
EMIL: Some of them are shot.
GEORGE: No, them, the ones responsible. Ducks! They're finding ducks with lung cancer. I was reading about this hunter in the forest and he shot a bunch of ducks tha
t were laying down . . .
EMIL: Yes.
GEORGE: And he missed. But! As he was walking away he heard this hacking, and he went back to investigate. And there were these five or six stunted ducks sitting in a clearing, hacking their guts out.
EMIL: No!
GEORGE: Coughing and sneezing. Runny noses . . . and they'd flap their wings and go maybe two flaps and fall down coughing.
EMIL: It's no good for you.
GEORGE: And he says instead of running off they all came up and huddled around his feet with these rheumy, runny eyes. Looking quite pathetic. And he says he couldn't get it out of his mind. . . .
EMIL: What?
GEORGE: I'll feel silly to say it.
EMIL: Tell me.
GEORGE: That they looked like they were trying to bum a smoke.
EMIL: . . . That's ridiculous.
GEORGE: I know it.
EMIL: I think someone is putting you on.
GEORGE: Very likely.
EMIL: You aren't even supposed to smoke in a forest.
GEORGE: Go fight City Hall.
SIXTH VARIATION
“What Kind Of A World Is It”
GEORGE: What kind of a world is it that can't even keep its streets clean?
EMIL: A self-destructive world.
GEORGE: You said it.
EMIL: A cruel world.
GEORGE: A dirty world. Feh. I'm getting old.
EMIL: Nobody's getting any younger.
GEORGE: Almost makes a feller want to stop trying.
EMIL: Stop trying what?
GEORGE: You know, life is a lot simpler than many people would like us to believe.
EMIL: How so?
GEORGE: Take the duck.
EMIL: All right.
GEORGE: Of what does his life consist?
EMIL: Well, flying . . .
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: Eating.
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: Sleeping.
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: Washing himself.
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: Mating.
GEORGE: Yes.
EMIL: And perhaps getting himself shot by some jerk in a red hat.
GEORGE: Or “Death.”
EMIL: Should we include that as one of the activities of life?
GEORGE: Well, you can't die in a vacuum.
EMIL: That's true.
GEORGE: So there we have it: the duck, too, is doomed to death . . .
EMIL: As are we all.
GEORGE: But his life prior to that point is so much more simple. He is born. He learns his trade: to fly. He flies, he eats, he finds a mate, he has young, he flies some more, he dies. A simple, straightforward easy-to-handle life.
EMIL: So what's your point?
GEORGE: Well, lookit:
EMIL: Okay.
