by Paula Vogel
PETER: I feel bad about our fight the other day. But…
ANNA: What fight?
PETER: About the kids.
ANNA: Oh, forget it. That wasn’t a fight. That was a discussion. It’s only a fight when something gets broken.
(Just then, there’s a tremendous crash offstage. Anna does not blink. We hear Ruth, offstage, overlapping as Henri and Orphan.)
HENRI (Offstage): Now look what you’ve done, Orphanne!
ORPHAN (Offstage): T-tough n-n-noogies.
(Offstage noise continues.)
PETER: I…I shouldn’t have yelled at Cecil like that.
ANNA: Well, you know. Peter, he is imaginary—
PETER: Of course I know he’s—
ANNA: Believe me, I know how easy it is to get confused about that sometimes, but at a time like this, you have to keep it separate—
PETER: I have to!…That’s what I’m trying to talk to you about! It’s not my problem!
ANNA: Then why are you getting upset?
HENRI (Offstage): I get to wear that shirt! That’s not yours, Orphanne!
ORPHAN (Offstage): N-now it is.
HENRI (Offstage): You take it off!
ORPHAN (Offstage): M-m-make m-me, Frog Boy.
PETER: It’s very hard to talk around here sometimes.
HENRI (Offstage): Don’t call me Frog Boy!
(Sounds of fighting.)
ANNA: Look. I’m always ready to listen to your point of view, Peter…
PETER: Okay, then, I just want to explain why I think we should stop—
(Sounds of Henri crying.)
HENRI (Offstage): I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, ORPHANNE!
ANNA: Ah, excuse me, Peter—
(Anna gets up and crosses to the bedroom door. She stands there, with her back to us.)
CECIL: Listen, you two. Will you please grow up? What is your problem?
(Silence.)
CECIL: Well, then, let Orphan wear that shirt today. Henri, you can wear my Fiorucci shirt with the fish—
HENRI (Offstage; delighted): All right!
(Anna returns to her seat. Beat.)
ANNA: I’m sorry, Peter. You were saying?
PETER: Never mind.
ANNA: Oh, come on, Petey, don’t be that way.
(Peter drinks his coffee.)
PETER: What way?
ANNA: Can I have a sip of your coffee? Oh, come on. Do you think the kid’s going to come out with a mushroom head if I have some caffeine?
PETER: Okay. I think mushrooms are cute.
ANNA (Swallowing): Oh my god—
PETER: Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment today?
ANNA: Tomorrow. At two.
(Ruth enters, in a Fiorucci fish shirt.)
RUTH: Good morning, Petey.
PETER: Morning.
RUTH: What did I do?
ANNA: I think Peter wants to talk to us, honey.
RUTH: Okay. Talk Peter.
(Peter takes a breath for patience and strength.)
PETER: It’s about the kids—
RUTH: Oh. Okay, you guys. I’ve made a decision.
ANNA: We’re going to stop?
RUTH: Well…not just like that.
PETER: I don’t understand.
RUTH: Look, I want to get my last inch of fantasy out of them. I can’t just stop doing them, just like that. I’ll always be wondering: Will Cecil become a geophysicist? Will Henri go back to Paris? Will Orphan become fully socialized?
ANNA: So what are you proposing?
RUTH: We’re going to tidy up the plots. No loose ends dangling. Starting tomorrow. We’re going to kill them. One by one. First Orphan. Then Henri. Cecil will be the last to go.
(Anna and Peter stare at Ruth. Ruth smiles.)
Scene Six
Afternoon. Ruth is loosely bound in a chair with kitchen nylon cord rope. She has a gag in her mouth. Anna enters from front door, carrying shopping bag. As she turns, Anna sees Ruth.
ANNA: Ruth!!
(The shopping bag drops. Ruth casually removes the gag from her mouth with a free hand.)
RUTH: Hi, honey. What’d the doctor have to say?
ANNA: What is all this!! Are you all right?—
RUTH: I’m sorry, I just wanted to surprise you—
ANNA: Surprise me!! Are you crazy?
(Anna stops, pants.)
RUTH: I’m sorry. Close the door. Are you all right?
ANNA: Christ. You almost made me break my water.
(Anna sits.)
RUTH: I’m sorry. It was stupid.
ANNA: What in the hell are you doing? Why are you bound and gagged?
RUTH: I’m not. Orphan is.
ANNA: Oh. I see.
RUTH: I’m afraid I have some bad news. About Orphan.
ANNA: You’re pushing the envelope, Ruthie, you really are.
RUTH: Are you listening? He…he went into a convulsion shortly after you left and I rushed him to St. Vincent’s. Honey? You know how all these months, Orphan’s been, well, stuttering? Biting? Having little fits?
ANNA (Starting to giggle): I don’t believe this. Yes, yes, go on…
RUTH: And…and you know how hard it’s been to get him to take a bath? Well—it’s serious. Brace yourself. All this time he’s had…rabies. And we didn’t know.
ANNA: Rabies!!
RUTH: And now it’s too late to do anything. He’s in the last stages.
ANNA: I see.
RUTH: So the doctors let me bring him home.
ANNA: How much time does he have left?—Are we really going through with this?
RUTH: Yes. We are. He…he doesn’t have much time left. An hour or two.
ANNA: And they let him out?
RUTH: There’s…there’s a shortage of beds.
ANNA: Uh-huh.
(Pause)
Rabies simplex or rabies complex?
RUTH: Come on, you have to play along with this! Do you want to talk to Orphan?
ANNA: Is he lucid?
RUTH: Well, he goes in and out. Be careful. He might try to bite you.
ANNA: Okay.
(Ruth replaces the gag and sits in the chair as Orphan. Anna carefully takes off the gag, and Orphan almost bites her.)
ANNA: Whew! That was a close one. Orphy? Baby? Can you hear me?
ORPHAN: Grrr-grr-sah, sah, t-t-t—, the d-d-dogs, k-k-k-k—
(Makes strange little popping noises) Pop! Pop-pop-pop—
ANNA: Oh, God, Ruth, this is awful—
ORPHAN: M-m-m-milk.k.k.kkk; w-warmm, w-warm mmmilk…t-ttoo, t-too mmany others…have to k-kick them away. T-to ggett the m-m-milkkk…
(Orphan makes suckling noises)
ANNA: Oh, Jesus.
RUTH: He’s coming round.
ORPHAN: Mmm-hmmm.
ANNA: Baby? Can you hear me?
ORPHAN (Cooing agreement): Mmm-hmmm.
ANNA: Oh, sweetie. Are you in pain?
ORPHAN: Nah-noh. N-no pain.
ANNA (Kneeling by Orphan and stroking his hair): Honey? How did this happen? Can you remember?
ORPHAN: Mmm-hmm.
ANNA: Did you get bitten?
ORPHAN: I, I was pp-playing by Port Authority and these b-b-boys were th-throwing s-stones at th-this d-d-dog. And th-that made me mad.
(Pops his eyes for a second) So-so I, I called, “H-here, d-d-ddoggie.” And it came to me.
ANNA: Was it walking funny?
ORPHAN (Sweetly): Mmm-hmmm.
ANNA: How?
ORPHAN: L-l-like a c-crab.
ANNA: Oh, God.
ORPHAN (Excited): A-and it had a b-b-beard. A wh-white b-b-beard. L-like Mmr. B-b-bbubble!
ANNA: Yes, honey. Like your bubble bath, Mr. Bubble. Then what happened?
ORPHAN: I-I petteded the d-dog. B-because it reminded me…of…
(His voice goes strangely low) Mother.
ANNA: Ruthie. I can’t go through with this. This is just too awful.
RUTH: We’ve got to go through with this. It’s al
most over.
ANNA: Well, hurry up, then!
RUTH: Okay. He’s going into his last grand mal. Look out. Stand back.
(Orphan starts to make strange buzzing noises in his throat. When he erupts into speech, it should be reminiscent of the many voices of Mercedes McCambridge in The Exorcist.)
ORPHAN: “Fuck Me, Jesus!” HEH HEH heh heh…zzzzzz. scratch. ZZZZZ. scratch. “A p-p-plague o-o-o’ both your houses!!—z-z-zounds, a d-d-dog, a rrratt, a m-mouse, a k-k-k-kcat, to sccratch a m-man to death!!!!”…“W-washed, I said. Are they washed? Arggh, that unwashed gggggrrr-grape has transported her soul.” K!!
K!! “Da-da-DAMIEN! W-w-why you d-do this to me?!” Pop!! Pop!! PoppoppoppopppPut out the l-light, and t-then p-put out the l-light! Mmm-hmmm… “Sahh, sa-hhhh-Sunn…Mother, g-give me th-the sahh-sun.”
(A small pause, then accelerated) Poppoppoppoppopppp “Pardon me b-boys; is th-that the Chchchatten-chatenn-Ch—” GRRR!!!…Woof, woof, woof.
(Bites the air three times)
“Good night, ladies; good n-night, GooGooGooJoob!!—O, UNTIMELY DEATH?!”
(Pause)
Sit! Stay!!… “Out, d-damned Spot!!”
(Suddenly, Orphan looks up, quiet, alert. Hums the theme song from “Lassie”)
(Listens; then in a plaintive high voice) “L-l-lassie c-come…hh-omme…”
(Orphan suddenly slumps over in his chair. Orphan is still. A pause.)
ANNA: Orphan? Orphan!!
(Ruth sits upright and takes off the gag and rope.)
RUTH (Cheerfully): The End!!
Scene Seven
Cecil (Anna) and Henri (Ruth) hold a children’s service for Orphan in the kitchen. They hold hands. Both are wearing black armbands. Cecil carries his bear, Sidney, who also wears an armband.
HENRI (Teary): So…so now what do we do, Cecil?
CECIL (Pale and dry-eyed): Well, I, uh, think it might be appropriate to the, uh, occasion if we sing Orphan’s favorite song.
HENRI: Okay.
(The two sing in a sweet, high boy’s soprano.)
HENRI AND CECIL:
Had a dog and his name was Blue
Had a dog and his name was Blue
Had a dog and his name was Blue
Betcha five dollars, he was a good ’un, too.
Here, Blue:
You good dog, you.
Old Blue died and he died so hard
Old Blue died and he died so hard
Old Blue died and he died so hard
Dug little holes all over my yard.
Here, Blue:
You good dog, you.
Here, Blue:
I’m a comin’ there too.
CECIL: Well, Orphan. I don’t know if I think you’re in heaven. I stopped believing in a Divine Presence when I was six, so there’s really no way of knowing. But, uh, I do believe in the Laws of Physics. And that matter can’t be destroyed, but only changed. So I know you’re somewhere. And maybe you can hear me. And I just want to say, that, uh, I’ll never forget you. You’ll always be with me.
(Gently turns to Henri) Henri? Do you have something you want to say to Orphan?
HENRI (Quavering): Well, Orphanne, I just want to say that… (Starts to break)…that when you wanted to eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I’m sorry I didn’t let you—
(Gives vent to heart-rendering cries on Cecil’s shoulder) Oh, Cecilll…
CECIL (Comforting Henri ardently): I know. I know, Henri. It’s all right. We have each other.
(Fiercely) I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it!
Prologue to Act Two
When the house lights have dimmed, we hear light snoring, sweet and melodious, as only an eight year old’s can be. The clown night-light is on.
GHOST OF ORPHAN (Ethereally): C-c-c-Ce-cillll…
CECIL: Hh-huhnh? (Henri’s soft snoring is the only response) Henri? Did you say something? (Henri whistles on) Guess not.
GHOST OF ORPHAN: C-C-CECILLL!!
CECIL (Wide awake): Who…who is that?!!
GHOST OF ORPHAN: O-o-Orphan…or a p-piece of him.
CECIL: O-o-Orphan? Oh, my God.
GHOST OF ORPHAN: L-list, l-list, O list! If thou didst ever thy d-dear brother l-love, Revenge his f-foul and m-most un-un-un-n-n—
CECIL: Unnatural—
GHOST OF ORPHAN: Mm-hmm!…M-murder.
CECIL: Murder? Murder?
GHOST OF ORPHAN: Mmm-hmm! M-murder m-most f-foul and m-most un-un-un-n-n—
CECIL: Unnatural—
GHOST OF ORPHAN: Adieu! Adieu! C-c-Cecil, remember me. Mmm-hmm!
CECIL: Wait!! Orphan?—Wait!
(Pause)
(Then, urgent) Henri! Henri!
HENRI: Zzzz—What? What is it, Cecil? Cecil? You’re…you’re shaking!
CECIL: It’s just…Angst.—Henri, we’ve got to get out of here.
HENRI: What? But why?
CECIL: Do you think…what happened to Orphan…was strange?
HENRI (Trembling): I…don’t know.
CECIL: I don’t think what happened to Orphan happened…by accident. I know it wasn’t an accident.
HENRI (Starting to cry): How…how do you know?
CECIL: I just know.
HENRI: Oh, Cecil—what are we going to do?
CECIL: We’ve got to get out of here.
HENRI: But where…where are we going to go?
CECIL: Listen. Henri, tomorrow I want you to act like nothing’s different. I want you to pack a few things into the Channel Thirteen bag and hide it under the bed.
HENRI: Maybe we could sleep tonight with Uncle Peter!
CECIL: No. I don’t think he can be trusted. I think Uncle Peter’s one of them…We’ll go to bed, and then when Anna and Ruth are sleeping, we’ll slip on out of here.
HENRI (Crying): I don’t think Anna and Ruth would really, really harm—
CECIL: They’re not themselves. Ever since that baby.
HENRI: Yeah. I hate that baby.
CECIL: We’ve got to run away.
HENRI: Okay.
CECIL: Try to get some sleep.
(Henri cries softly; Cecil and Henri peer anxiously into the darkness as the lights fade up into Act Two.)
ACT TWO
Scene Eight
The next morning. Anna is making coffee. She wears a black armband. Peter sits at the table.
PETER: So what exactly happened?
ANNA: Well, he frothed, went into a frenzy and badly misquoted Shakespeare. Then he died.
PETER: How are the other two taking it?
ANNA: They’re devastated. Henri turned down ice cream last night.
PETER: Poor lad.
ANNA: That’s easy for you to say.
(Pause. Peter tries again.)
PETER: So who’s next? Henri or Cecil?
ANNA: Henri. It’s my turn to bump him off. I want it to be painless. Orphan’s demise was just too awful for me.
PETER: When’s it gonna happen?
ANNA: Why? Want front-row seats?
PETER: I’m just asking, Anna. That’s all.
ANNA (Trying to control her irritability): I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t know.
PETER: Tonight?
ANNA: I don’t know. I don’t know. Don’t rush me.
PETER: Sorry.
(Ruth enters, wearing a black armband and Peter’s shirt.)
RUTH: Morning, you guys. I gotta run.
ANNA: That’s Peter’s shirt.
PETER: Thought it looked familiar.
ANNA: Did you ask if you could wear it?
(Ruth and Peter look at each other. There is a moment of uneasy silence.)
RUTH (Then, casually): Um, Petey, would you mind terribly, old man, if I borrowed your shirt?
PETER: Not at—
ANNA (Angry and starting to get loud): That’s not the point! Jesus, Ruthie, you can’t just go around using other people’s things without—
PETER: I really don’t mind.
ANN
A: But that’s not the point!
RUTH: I asked him. Okay? I can’t wear your things right now, they don’t fit—
ANNA: There’s gotta be some respect for other people’s property around here.
RUTH: Sweetie, there’s no reason to get—
ANNA: Don’t fucking condescend to me! Like I’m the one who’s crazy! It drives me nuts to hear the way you both talk to me, sometimes, like I’m a goddamn carton of eggs that has to be carried very carefully or—
PETER (Very calmly): We’re not talking to you like that, Anna—
ANNA: Like hell you’re not—
RUTH: What do you want from us?
ANNA: Just some respect! Some order in this household! Some quiet and some, some…You two just traipse in and out at all hours of the day while I sit here, bloated and tethered like some goddamn Good Year blimp on Super Bowl day. I’m supposed to give up coffee, smoking, drinking, fucking, spicy foods, and I’m expected to be understanding of what Ruth wants, what Peter needs.—Who the fuck am I, some kind of knocked-up Miss Manners? It’s ninety degrees in August, and I can’t get a seat on the subway! I fucking hate New York, and I just want to see my knees again! I WANT TO KILL, MAIM, MOON THE NEIGHBORS!
(Takes a breath; continues a bit more calmly) It would be nice, too, if Peter would pick his shoes up when he takes them off instead of leaving them in the middle of the floor for me to trip over, so I don’t have to worry about dropping the goddamn baby in a burst of placental juice all over the—
RUTH: Maybe it would be a good idea if you went in and laid down. You’re just having…
ANNA: I’m just what…What?
RUTH: You’re having one…of…those—
ANNA: Don’t say it!! Don’t you dare fucking say it!
(Smashes her coffee cup. She crosses to the bedroom, stops, and says with great dignity) You can both suck my imaginary dick!
(She exits. There is a moment of silence. Ruth picks up a shard of the coffee cup.)
RUTH: I think we’re having a fight.
ANNA (Offstage): AND DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME IT’S HORMONES!
(There is a crash offstage from the bedroom.)
PETER: Maybe I should…just pick up my shoes and leave the two of you alone for a while…
(Peter stands; Ruth rounds on him.)
RUTH: Don’t start tippy-toeing out of here!
(Beat)
For once, when the shit starts to fly, just…just stay here, can’t you?
(Peter takes a breath.)
PETER: Okay.
(Ruth and Peter look around the room. Peter goes and picks up the various pairs of shoes and neatly arranges them under the table; Ruth, equally contrite, begins to pick up the shattered coffee mug and rinse the dishes. Peter straightens up magazines. Ruth picks up a few articles of clothing and takes them into the bathroom, while Peter waters the plants. They stop and look at the room, which is a bit more ordered. Then they sit at the table, tentatively smile at each other. Pause.)
