George....the Hero

by Martin Alcock

SCENE CHANGE : Into Bertha’s private apartments. There is a throne and a small side table. There a much smaller stool for Squidley to sit on.

  (The two guards are receiving a dressing down from Bertha. Plank is hovering close.)

  (A serving lady with a towel is attempting to wipe off Bertha’s face, but, as she keeps pacing furiously up and down, it isn’t easy.)

  Bertha: (Furiously angry) I have never….ever….ever…been so utterly humiliated in my life! Do you realise what this is going to do for my image. My carefully cultivated image….. Glamorous …gorgeous…caring Bertha. All that’s down the drain because you two couldn’t guard your Grandmother’s big toe! Now would someone please try to explain to me what just happened out there?

  Guard 1: Er….poo….ma’am.

  Bertha: I’m sorry?

  Guard 2: You was hit by a small bag of poo, ma’am, flung in your general direction by a common ne’er do well.

  Guard 1: Could have been a rapscallion, we get a lot of those too.

  Guard 2: Might have been a scallywag, you know.

  Guard 1: How about a scamp? Could have been a scamp….

  Guard 2: Naah, too big for a……

  Bertha: (Screaming) SHADDAP!!! (Breathing hard to recover her composure) Now listen to me, doughnut brains, you two are going to find that miserable peasant and bring her to me. You’re going to do it very, very quickly. And for the one of you who brings her to me first, there’s a very special reward

  (The guards perk up at the mention of rewards)

  Thought that might get your attention. Well, the reward for the one who brings me the peasant is………you get to keep breathing. Now GET OUT OF HERE!

  (Plank shoves the two guards out, the serving lady flaps around Bertha with a towel)

  Bertha: (Impatiently) Oh for pity’s sake leave me alone! Go and get me some lunch ………now!

  (The serving lady runs out quickly)

  Bertha: And as for you, Plank, where were you when I was in mortal danger from the mob?

  Plank: (Who also talks like a Secret Service man) I was securing the perimeter, Ma’am.

  Bertha: No you weren‘t….I’ll tell you what you were doing, Plank, you were wandering around with your finger stuck in your ear. Why do you do that, Plank?

  Plank: Small pixie, ma’am.

  Bertha: Pixie?

  (The Serving woman returns with a plate on which is a chicken drumstick and a jug of wine and a glass.)

  Plank: Pixie, ma’am. All members of the Guild of Bodyguards have a small Pixie implanted in their ears. To receive instructions.

  Bertha: (Bemused) So you’re telling me that my personal safety depends on……..I can’t believe I’m saying this…. a pixie stuck in your ear.

  Plank: Yes ma’am. The pixie apologises for taking his eye off the

  Ball today. But he asks me to assure you that he’ll be there for that next bag of poo.

  Bertha: (Picks up the wine glass, drains it. To the serving woman) Leave the bottle. I think I’m going to need it.

  (The serving lady leaves the tray on a side table, bows and exits)

  Bertha: Plank, much as I’d like to keep talking to you, I’m getting a headache, so why don’t you and your ….pixie friend….just run along and……

  Plank: Secure the perimeter, ma’am?

  Bertha: Yes (as if talking to a child)…..that sounds good. It was looking a bit iffy when I passed it in the hall. Off you go then…

  (Plank exits. Squidley enters, carrying his ledger. Bertha flops down on the throne, swigging wine and nibbling at the chicken.)

  Bertha: (Miserably) Ah, Squidley, just in time, I could do with some cheering up. How much did we collect today?

  Squidley: (Sitting down on the small stool - he just about comes up to Bertha’s elbow) Well, we’ve got the final figure for taxing day just here (points at a page of the book) if you’d care to look.

  Bertha: (Takes a sip of wine, looks at the book and instantly chokes)……whaat? ……(recovering) Is that it?

  Squidley: I’m afraid so, Ma’am. It is a bit……disappointing.

  Bertha: Disappointing? It’s pathetic! How am I……(stops and corrects herself) …..how is the city expected to survive on that?

  Squidley: Times are hard….Ma’am. The people are struggling to make ends meet.

  Bertha: Oh, rubbish. If they can afford to stuff themselves with apple cores and mouldy potatoes, they can afford to pay a bit more tax.

  Squidley: I’m not so sure, Ma’am. Look at what happened today in

  the square. The people are becoming restless. There is something strange and ominous in the wind…

  Bertha: (Sniffs herself) Probably the last of that Pig manure, sorry, I thought I’d got it off.

  Squidley: I mean, ma’am, that things are very tense in Bigg City.

  The least little thing could set them off - like those mysterious cottage fires….

  Bertha: (Her mind revolving) Yes….those fires, someone said it was dragons…ridiculous of course, there haven’t been any dragons round here for…..

  Squidley: Centuries, at least…..it’s all just a rumour spread by some ignorant peasants.

  Bertha: (Mind going full speed, a wicked grin slowly spreading across her face) of course it is……but just suppose……just suppose it wasn’t?

  Squidley: Ma’am - I don’t underst…

  (Bertha pinches Squidleys nose shut - to his great discomfort)

  Bertha: Shush Squidley, there’s a good boy, Bertha’s trying to think. (She gets up and starts to wander, thinking, oblivious to the fact that she’s still got hold of Squidley’s nose) Suppose there really was a dragon - a huge, dangerous, firebreathing dragon that threatened to destroy Bigg City and everything in it? What would the people think then, eh? Squidley?

  Squidley: (Speaking as best as he can) Ney’d ne nerrified…

  Bertha: (Her face lighting up with a manic, slightly insane glow) Exactly, Squidley…….terrified….and their terror they would turn to me, their beloved Baroness to protect them. And if……let’s just say…..for the sake of argument…….I was to introduce a special tax to pay for their safety………a….Dragon Tax….the poor fools would be only too happy to pay it….(She is beginning to laugh diabolically in true “villain hatching an evil scheme” manner) it’s perfect! It’s foolproof!

  Squidley: (Trying to get her attention)….Er….na’am?

  Bertha: (Seeing him) Oh, sorry..(Lets go of his nose) you were

  saying?

  Squidley: This is extremely dangerous ma’am! It’s also deeply dishonest and I refuse to have anything to do……

  (She pinches his nose shut again)

  Bertha: Sorry, Squidley, I though you were saying something important. (Bertha is now in full evil genius mode) Now, in order for Bertha’s naughty little scheme to work, I’m going to need to stage a little bit of a drama. Squidley….I think you’re about to show the world your previously undiscovered talent as an actor…..

  (Bertha looks evilly down at Squidley- Squidley looks terrified. Bertha’s diabolical laughter fills the stage as the lights go down.)

  SCENE CHANGE: Back in the Square. It’s nighttime. The guards are mingling with the people wandering around. Brenda, Nora, Vera and Glenys are scattered around, chatting, counting their few remaining coppers, resting their aching feet. A couple of figures who could be beggars are slumped on the ground with their backs to us. Shrouded in tatty blankets, their heads covered.

  Guard 1: (Kicking one of the beggar-type shapes) Hey, you!

  (The shape makes a grunting noise) You seen anyone unusual around tonight (another grunt). Like that kid who threw the ….stuff at Baroness Bertha? (a negative-sounding grunt) Well you make sure that you report it if you do.

  Guard 2: Ah come on, you’re not going to get any sense out of him.

  (The guards wander off. The “beggars” slip off their blankets. It’s George, Winifred and Spud)

  George: Great. Just Great. I’m in
Bigg city for two minutes and I’m being hunted by the law. Why do these things happen to me?

  Winifred: Bertha doesn’t like being made a fool of - it’s a dignity thing.

  George: Yeah….(to Spud) still, it was a good shot, wasn’t it?

  (Spud grins and gives a thumbs up)

  So go, on, Winifred, you were telling us about Dave. You said he

  was a - a what - a “stage one”. Does that mean he’s only a puppy?

  Winifred: No, not at all, he’s probably thousands of years old. He’s probably been wandering the woods all this time.

  George: But he’s titchy……how come he hasn’t grown at all?

  Winifred: He hasn’t grown because people don’t believe in dragons anymore. When people stop believing in them, dragons die out….or shrink. All that stuff about dragons living on maidens or eating peasants is a load of pig plop. Dragons don’t need to eat to live, they live off large amounts of energy.

  George: Energy? Where do they get it from?

  Winifred: From us, from people. When we believe in dragons. We give off energy. That enables the dragons to survive. Like now,

  people don’t really believe in Dragons - or they won’t admit to it. But at the back of their superstitious little minds there’s just enough belief to keep a harmless little stage one mini-dragon like Dave going for centuries.

  George: So what would happen if people started properly believing in dragons again? Like suppose everyone in Bigg City started believing in Dragons again?

  (Winifred takes out Old Fizzler’s almanac and opens it)

  Winifred: (Pointing to a picture) That’s what would happen.

  Stage two.

  George: (gulping) I wouldn’t like to meet him in a dark alley….

  Winifred: It’d have to be a big alley. That’s not all, though….

  George: (Fearfully) I had a feeling it wasn’t….

  Winifred: Well, unfortunately, the most powerful form of energy is negative energy. Things like hate and fear. Dragons lap it up. If people suddenly started fearing and hating dragons like in the old days…..

  George: What?

  (Winifred slowly and hesitantly turns to the next page of the book)

  Winifred: (Indicating a picture) That. Stage three.

  George: (wide-eyed) He’s the size of a mountain! That’s not going to happen…….is it? It couldn’t. Something like that could destroy Bigg City..the woods… everything….Win, please tell me that’s not going to happen.

  Winifred: (Shrugs and closes the book) Who knows? All my life, ever since I was younger than her (indicates Spud who has fallen asleep) I’ve wanted to see a dragon. Never have, though.

  My Auntie Grizelda once saw a stage two in the mountains, a great silver Snow Dragon flying round a mountain top, breathing out flames of ice. She said it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  It’s daft, isn’t it? I’ve spent most of my life trying to save creatures I’ve never seen, which probably don’t exist……in fact, I’d almost got to the point of giving up on dragons for good. And then you two come along and tell me you’ve made friends with one. This has been a very confusing day….

  George: You never know Winfred….I might be able to introduce you to Dave, one day.

  Winifred: I’d like that.

  George: In the meantime….I’m going to try and get some sleep.

  (George curls up on the ground)

  ‘Night, Winifred.

  Winifred: ‘Night, George. (Winifred looks up into the night sky, she pulls her blanket tightly around her. She gives a little shiver.)

  Lights slowly down.

  Lights up on The Square. It’s morning. Spud, George and Winifred are curled up asleep on the ground. The market traders are setting up for the day. Harold is wandering in ready to give the morning news. George starts to wake up.

  George: Ooooooh…me back. Note to self. Don’t go to sleep on damp cobblestones ever again. (Gives Spud a nudge. She starts to rouse herself stiffly and unwillingly) Rise and shine. (Feels her stomach rumbling) Don’t suppose you’ve got another potato

  for breakfast, have you? (Spud shakes her head). Too bad. Now if I could just stop my head from aching….

  Harold: (At the top of his voice)….HEAR YE! HEAR YE!

  George: (The noise going through her head like a knife) That’s not really helping…..

  Harold: It’s the Morning news from the BCBC with me, Harold the Herald. Good Morning Bigg City! First, the traffic report….

  (He is cut short by Squidley running on, disguised as a peasant. His tatty peasant clothes are singed and blackened. He’s taken off his glasses. Which makes him very short sighted)

  Squidley: (Yelling) Help! Help me! My home! My family! Murdered! Destroyed! Incinerated! By….by…..by…

  Harold: By what?

  Squidley: (Taking a big dramatic pause) Dragons!

  Harold: (Excitedly slipping into reporter mode) Breaking news here in Bigg City, folks! Dragon-related mayhem reaches a new high!

  (A crowd starts to gather around Squidley and Harold)

  Squidley: It was awful…..

  Harold: In your own words sir, just describe what happened.

  Squidley: There were at least fifteen of them. All with three heads.

  Squirting out fire and smoke and ……..poison.

  Harold: Poison?

  Squidley: They ate my wife and children.

  Harold: A multiple devouring by fifteen three-headed dragons!!!

  Folks, BCBC is going to stay with this story all day if we have to!

  Winfred: (crossing to Squidley and Harold) Excuse Me! Exactly what colour were these dragons?

  Squidley:Er…..green?

  Winifred: (Emphatically) Green dragons don’t breath fire.

  Squidley: Er…silvery Gold?

  Winfred: A mountain dragon?

  Squidley: Yes..that’s it! Definitely a mountain dragon!

  Winifred: (Pleasantly) Oh well….you should have said…. (Suddenly sharpl) they only live in the mountains and they don’t breathe fire either - they breathe ice - I suppose they could deep freeze your house - but yours was burnt down, right?

  Squidley: Erm…..red?

  Winifred: A red dragon with three heads?

  Squidley: Erm……..it could have been three dragons standing very close together.

  Winifred: Look, I don’t mean to be rude, Mister….

  Squidley: (blagging desperately) er…….Spoon. Fred Spoon.

  Winfred: (Suddenly turning into a hot-shot prosecuting lawyer) It’s just that your story isn’t very accurate is it? In fact your story is the biggest load of cobbles since the cobble factory offered double discount cobbles during national cobble week. I would go so far, Mister Spoon, as to suggest that you, Mister Spoon, have never in fact seen a dragon in your entire life? Isn’t that the truth, Mister Spoon?

  (The crowd is looking quizzically at Squidley. Who looks desperately back at them)

  Squidley: Er……er…..(takes a deep breath)….DRAGONS!!!!!

  (It’s as if Winifred had never spoken. The crowd are shocked back into fearful muttering)

  Harold: And that proves it as far as this reporter is concerned, folks!! Multi -coloured, Three headed dragons are on the rampage!!!

  (Fanfare. Enter Bertha with Plank)

  Bertha: (Innocently) What is all the commotion, My people? What

  is it that troubles you? And what can, I your loving Baroness do to ease your pain?

  Brenda: Save us from the dragons, Ma’am!

  Vera: They’ll devour us all!!

  Nora: They ate this man’s house!

  Glenys: They’ve all got fifteen heads!!!

  (The crowd starts running and gibbering in complete panic,

  throwing themselves in front of Bertha. Begging her to save them)

  Bertha: (holding up her hand for silence) Peace! Never fear, my people, for I, your fearless and incredibly glamorous ruler shall protect you. I shall send ou
t a summons for the greatest warriors in the land to come to Bigg City. We shall hold a great tournament and select the very bravest of all the Knights to go forth and exterminate the Dragons!

  (There is wild applause and cheering)

  Of course…..(The cheering stops)……knights don’t come cheap. It’ll mean paying just a teensy weensy little bit more tax, like ….maybe ….double?

  (The crowd look uncertainly at each other. They’re not sure)

  Bertha: (out of the side of her mouth) Squidley……..

  Squidley: DRAGONS!!!!!!

  (They’re convinced. More wild applause and cheering. A chant slowly builds up. “Kill-The-Dragons-Kill-them-all Kill-The-Dragons-Kill-them-all” until the whole crowd is chanting. Bertha is basking in their adoration. She puts a protective arm round Squidley’s shoulder. He looks uncomfortable. The chant is growing louder and louder - the only ones not chanting are Spud, George and Winfred, who are stood away from the crowd. The crowd freezes. A spot on the three of them)

  Winifred: (opening the book-looking at the picture) It’s started…..it’s started and no-one can stop it!

  George: (Fearfully) Stage two? (Winifred nods) Oh…Dave..

  (The light goes down on them. From the other side of the stage a spot picks up Dave as he wanders on from the other side. The chant begins again. Very, very quiet at first, but building in volume and menace. As it does, Dave sniffs the air quizzically and then his body begins to shake violently and smoke begins to drift round him. As the shouting reaches it’s height…….sudden blackout. End of scene)