Boots: Duh.
Bitsy: And the other swingers I guess.
Boots: Who are who?
Bitsy: I don’t even want to think about it.
Boots: Wow.
Bitsy: You know?
Boots: (looking across the room) But who’s that other one.
Bitsy: (reaching for BOOTS’s glasses) I don’t know, here let me see.
Boots: I thought you were far-sighted.
BOOTS gives BITSY her glasses.
Bitsy: It depends how much I’ve had to drink.
BITSY puts on the glasses and looks across the room.
Oh my God!
Boots: What?
Bitsy: If I’m nearsighted and far-sighted then what kind of sighted am I?
Boots: What?
Bitsy: It’s Nurk.
Boots: Who?
Bitsy: Paul Kenney.
Boots: Shut up let me see.
BOOTS takes the glasses from BITSY and looks.
Oh my God. Is it?
Bitsy: Yes.
Throughout the following dialogue they share the glasses back and forth.
Boots: Why’d they call him Nurk?
Bitsy: He got all nervous when he’d talk to girls and his voice got like a turkey.
Boots: A turkey?
Bitsy: Yeah.
Boots: What’s a turkey sound like?
Bitsy: Gobbly or something. (in a strange high-pitched voice) Like this, something like this.
Boots: That sounds more like a chicken.
Bitsy: Chickens don’t talk.
Boots: Neither do turkeys.
Bitsy: But turkeys make noise.
Boots: So do chickens, they cluck.
Bitsy: Well they didn’t call him Cluck they called him Nurk.
Boots: That’s stupid.
Bitsy: I didn’t make it up.
Boots: Is that him really?
Bitsy: Yeah.
Boots: He used to be a beanpole.
Bitsy: I know.
Boots: He filled out a bit.
Bitsy: He looks good.
He lives in BC.
Or Alberta.
He’s got a good job with some company.
Engineering.
He left his wife.
She cheated.
Boots: How do you know all this?
Bitsy: Heff told me.
Boots: People’s lives eh?
Bitsy: Yeah.
Boots: Maybe we were lucky.
Bitsy: (staring through the glasses) He looks good. Not so skinny.
Boots: You don’t like skinny guys.
Bitsy: Not too skinny.
Boots: He’s not too skinny is he.
Bitsy: No. Oh my God he’s coming this way.
Boots: What?
Bitsy: (quickly handing off the glasses) Here take these take these put them somewhere.
BOOTS shoves the glasses in her pocket. NURK approaches quickly.
Hi there.
NURK rushes past with his hands over his mouth. BITSY and BOOTS watch as NURK runs past. HEFFER and DOOKIE approach.
Heffer: Hey Bitsy.
Bitsy: Hey Heff.
Heffer: Boots.
Boots: Uh huh.
Dookie: Bitsy and Boots, what a pair you make.
Bitsy: We’re not a pair.
We hear NURK calling from offstage.
Nurk: (sickly) Bingo!
Dookie and Heffer: Bingo!
Blackout. End of Act One.
Act Two
¶ Scene One
The hotel room.
BITSY and BOOTS sit about the room with drinks. There is a cooler of beer on the floor.
HEFFER holds an old boom box, nearby is an assortment of cassette tapes in a plastic bag.
All are in silhouette. DOOKIE stands centre in a spot. He turns and speaks to us.
Dookie: Before there were wives and kids and car payments and mortgages and RRSPs it was only ever summer and we were princes. Our territory was the overgrown fields and empty trails that ran along the creek from Wentworth Park to up behind the tennis courts and out to the old reservoir. We were cowboys, we were soldiers, we were spies, we were superheroes, we were princes. We made the rules and set the laws. Adults were the enemy and if we had a country it would have been called the U.S. of us, and if we had a flag it would have been a skull and crossbones. The skull would have been from that cat skeleton we found under the bandshell and the crossbones would have been BB guns. Every day we’d survey our terrain on our CCM horses, standing high on the pedals, leaning out over the handlebars, and in the evening we’d gather at our command centre—an old shed behind the house, where we’d plan strategies for the imaginary battles we were going to win the next day. As the summers passed the purpose of the command centre changed, first it became a place to stash the Penthouse magazines we’d manage to pilfer from the stack in our dad’s closets—behind the shoebox under the beach towel. Later it was where we’d hide the single cigarettes we’d buy from Piggy at Roddy’s Dairy on Cottage Road. One summer it was the place we spent weeks planning how we were going to convince Gina Arsenault to come over and show us The Meaning of Life. We even bought candles and a bottle of Mateus—but you can’t win every battle—we ended up drinking the wine ourselves and using the candles to have a seance. Then summers passed and summers passed and in the end the shed became the headquarters for our game. The game we invented where the laws and the rules were still ours, a game that no one else could figure out because it was like our secret handshake.
On our territory, we three princes. Princes on our way to being kings. Kings with wives and car payments and mortgages and RRSPs. Kings who would forgot they were once princes. Kings who wouldn’t know how to be kings. But I remember, I remember.
Light shifts as he turns and begins to address the others.
Okay so the thing is it goes like this. And we’ve been doing this since what?
Heffer: Grade eleven.
Dookie: No, grade ten at least. It’s our thing. And it’s like we keep taking shots and after each shot we punch one another in the stomach. And if nothing happens then we wait a bit and take another shot and do it again. And we keep doing that until somebody upchucks. And whoever upchucks wins and that’s Bingo.
Boots: Whoever upchucks wins?
Dookie: Yeah.
Boots: How is that winning?
Dookie: Because you empty your stomach and you can start drinking again.
Boots: So that you can get drunk?
Heffer: Duh.
Boots: So getting drunk’s sort of the point?
Heffer: Duh.
Boots: Then wouldn’t upchucking be more like losing?
Dookie: The point is more drinking than getting drunk.
Boots: What’s the point of drinking if you don’t get drunk?
Dookie: Or if you want to look at it that way then fine. You Bingo you lose but you lose you win.
Bitsy: You lose you win? That’s a weird kind of game.
Dookie: It’s the perfect game.
Boots: For losers.
Heffer: So you should like it then Boots.
Boots: Pphft.
Bitsy: Why do you call it Bingo?
Dookie: I don’t know. Why did we call it Bingo, Heffer?
Heffer: Because we used to play it when our moms were at bingo.
Dookie: No.
Heffer: Yeah.
Bitsy: Is your mom still going to bingo Heffer?
Heffer: Nah. She can’t see the cards.
Bitsy: That’s sad.
Heffer: But she’s still driving.
Bitsy: So’s Boots’s.
Boots: I don’t want to talk about it.
Bitsy: (to HEFFER) What is she, ninety?
Heffer: Ninety-two.
Bitsy: How long do they let people keep driving?
Boots: Until the rigor mortis sets in.
HEFFER takes a pile of cassettes from the bag.
Bitsy: Oh my God cassettes!
&nb
sp; Heffer: Mixtapes.
BITSY looks through the cassettes.
Bitsy: Oh my God!
Heffer: They’re all in the wrong cases though.
Bitsy: I’ll sort it out.
Dookie: When they made my dad stop driving that killed him.
Boots: Really?
Dookie: It was the beginning of the end. Never left the house. Shrivelled up to a shell. It wasn’t like he was going to start walking at his age.
Boots: No I know.
Dookie: You know?
Bitsy: I know.
Heffer: My mom had all the veins replaced in her right leg and she still can’t feel her foot.
Bitsy: If she can’t feel her foot how can she drive.
Boots: (to BITSY) She’s got two feet.
Heffer: (to BOOTS) That’s what she says.
Boots: Tell me about it.
Dookie: At the end my mom couldn’t even walk to the corner.
Heffer: At the end my dad couldn’t even make it up the stairs. They had to move the bedroom into the living room.
Bitsy: My dad wouldn’t come out of the basement. They had to put a chemical toilet in.
Heffer: My dad had to be on oxygen to watch the hockey game.
Bitsy: My mom can’t stand at the sink to wash her own face.
Dookie: Hips?
Bitsy: Knees.
Dookie: Those go fast.
Boots: It’s just a matter of time.
Dookie: Yeah.
Bitsy: Yeah.
Heffer: Yup.
Dookie: Yeah.
Boots: Yeah.
Bitsy: Yeah.
Heffer: Yup.
They grow silent considering their futures.
Boots: Who wants a drink?
They all head for the cooler speaking at the same time.
Dookie: I’m due.
Bitsy: Sure.
Heffer: Good plan.
Boots: Now that I mention it.
NURK comes out of the bathroom.
Dookie: Hey Nurkie brother, ready for another go?
Bitsy: How you feeling Nurk?
Nurk: I’m good I’m good, just going to take a little break.
Bitsy: You should have a glass of milk.
Boots: Milk?
Heffer: No way, it’ll curdle in his stomach.
Bitsy: Yes. Or butter.
Boots: Butter?
Bitsy: Yes.
Boots: No.
Bitsy: Yes. Lloyd knew these Russians they’d eat a whole pound of butter before they’d go out. Coat the stomach.
Heffer: Russians are nuts.
Dookie: Lloyd, you mean Chester’s brother?
Bitsy: Yeah.
Dookie: Whatever happened to Lloyd?
Boots: He’s in town.
Dookie: Wasn’t he supposed to become a priest?
Boots: That was his mom’s plan yeah.
Heffer: (chuckling) Probably should have.
Boots: What’s that supposed to mean, Heffer?
Heffer: He probably should have, might have been happier.
Boots: He’s happy.
Heffer: I’m sure.
Boots: What business is it of yours?
Heffer: What? I’m not allowed to talk? What am I the errand boy? Who’s the one who asked for the boom box? You. And who went home to get it? Me.
Boots: What do you want a medal?
Heffer: A little appreciation maybe.
Bitsy: Thank you very much Heffer.
Heffer: You’re welcome Bitsy.
Boots: You should have brought Deb back with you when you went home.
Heffer: Why would she want to hang around us?
Boots: Well it’s the reunion.
Heffer: But she didn’t graduate did she?
An uncomfortable beat. Suddenly everyone swings into action to change the subject, all talk at the same time.
Nurk: What do you have going on over there Heffer?
Heffer: Mixtapes, have a look. Should I crack a window?
Boots: Let me have a boo at those tapes.
Bitsy: When I graduated…
Everyone stops to hear what BITSY is going to say.
When I graduated…
Dookie: Yes Bitsy?
Heffer: Leave it Dookie.
Dookie: When you graduated?
Heffer: Dookie…
Bitsy: …my whole life was ahead of me.
Boots: True enough true enough.
(to HEFFER, getting involved with the tapes) Have you got any of Deb’s tapes? I love Deb’s taste in music.
Heffer: Which would be mine. She gets all her music taste off me okay?
Nurk: Well that’s still true isn’t it, Bitsy?
Bitsy: What’s not true?
Nurk: No, it’s true now, our life is still ahead of us.
Boots: I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I’ve got more behind me than in front of me.
Heffer: (to BOOTS) From here it looks like you’re carrying equal weight.
Boots: I have a figure Heffer, I don’t have a problem with that.
Heffer: Clearly.
Boots: You’re one to talk Heffer.
Dookie: (to NURK) I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true.
Heffer: (to BOOTS) Don’t be telling me not to talk.
Bitsy: (to DOOKIE) What’s not true?
Boots: (to HEFFER) Somebody has to.
Dookie: (to BITSY) What Nurk’s saying.
Heffer: (to BOOTS) How about you stop talking?
Bitsy: (to DOOKIE) About what?
Boots: (going for the boom box with a cassette) Fine by me. Let me put this one on.
Dookie: (to BITSY) Our lives being ahead of us.
Heffer: (to BOOTS) If it’ll shut you up yeah, gimme here I’ll do it.
Dookie: (to NURK) I mean if you want to talk logistically.
Heffer: (re: “logistically”) Oh great.
Dookie: What Heffer?
Heffer: (to DOOKIE) Nothing.
The Indigo Girls’s “Closer To Fine” booms from the boom box mid-song. BOOTS grooves on it.
Everybody watches her.
Boots: I love this one!
She closes her eyes and sings along.
HEFFER turns off the tape.
BOOTS stops and looks at everyone watching her.
What?
Heffer: Big fan are ya?
Boots: What?
Bitsy: (to the room generally; an excuse) She likes all kinds of music. Not just… you know… folk.
Boots: What? I like the song that’s all.
Heffer: No I know. Just because you listen to… you know “folk” doesn’t mean you’re a… you know, “folkie.”
Boots: (turning off the music) Oh for God’s sake. Find something else then.
BOOTS crosses the room and sits sulking.
Dookie: As I was saying. Logistically—
Heffer: Oh brother.
Dookie: What Heffer?
Heffer: Nothing.
Dookie: But it just goes to reason that for most of us at our ages we can safely say that the majority of our experiences are behind us. We’re not going to have the number or the kind of experiences that we had from high school to here from here to… retirement or whatever.
Bitsy: Sandy LeBlanc’s dad Blackie started hang-gliding when he was seventy.
Heffer: Broke both his legs.
Bitsy: But it was a new experience.
Dookie: Sure there are exceptions but look… Take Boots for example.
Boots: Why?
Dookie: No just… You’re working where?
Heffer: She’s a mailman.
Boots: Mail carrier. God Heffer, wake up and smell the eighties.
Dookie: So you work for the post office. How long have you been working for the post office?
Boots: I don’t know… Twenty-two years or something.
Dookie: And you were excited when you got that job?
Bitsy: She was over the moon. Her life was made.
Dookie: Exactly
. And you’re not going to be leaving that job anytime soon.
Boots: Duh.
Bitsy: Who’d quit the post office? She’s got it made.
Dookie: What I’m saying is, there are just fewer experiences to have.
Nurk: Experience isn’t quantitative it’s qualitative.
Heffer: What? Talk English?
Boots: If you want Heffer to understand talk caveman.
HEFFER grunts like a caveman.
Dookie: (to NURK) Fair enough fair enough but it’s the same thing. So take Boots for example.
Boots: (annoyed) What?
Nurk: (to DOOKIE) Why Boots for example?
Dookie: Or any of us. Let’s say… Graduating from high school, that’s an experience that all of us had.
A moment. BITSY rises and goes to the cooler to get a beer.
Bingo! Page 4
