a radical monologue in 3 acts

—————————————————————————————————————

CAST:

GUY: a distinctive male character whose appearance and acting change quite significantly for each of the three acts – although a certain ‘core personality’ remains consistent throughout the whole play. he’s representing a male archetype progressing through various stages of human development.

—————————————————————————————————————

ACT 1 – CAVE

SETTING:

prehistoric times. we look into the interior of a cave. through the entrance in the background we can see volcanoes, birds and other strange animals. it is dawn. the sky has an eerie orange-violet tint. GUY is sitting in the centre of the cave, holding a raw shaped stone chalice in his hand. his feet are resting high on a table-like rock in front of him. he’s filthy, grumpy and hairy and only wearing some shabby fur loincloth. quite clearly he’s one of our early human ancestors.

AT RISE:

GUY sips on his drink which we can spot has a deep purply colour and a somewhat caustic consistence. it might as well be blood he’s drinking, we are thinking. between each sip he stares idly into the air in front of him. throughout the whole act his parts are mainly mumbled four letter words which we only after a while recognise as actually being english.

GUY

mmmhh. (he makes swallowing and gurgling noises.) nice, nice. (pause. he’s scratching his balls.) good – drink – … (gulp, gulp.) … – awww. mmmhh – good – strong – juice. aaaahh. (gulp, gulp, gulp. pause.)

(he takes another big gulp but this time spills his drink. as the red liquid pours all over his face and body we are almost certain that it is blood he’s been drinking.)

GUY

(screaming.) aaaaaaahhhh!!!! shit – fuck – fuck – cunt. prick – shit – blood – cunt. blood – fuck – hell. (totally upset he whirls around as if to perform a weird dance.)

(OUTSIDE the sky has blackened and rolling thunder approaches. the beginnings of a big lightning flashes into the cave. GUY all of a sudden seems frightened and he sinks down on his knees. his face is ecstatic, blood smeared all over. erratic flashes light up its chiselled, hairy features.)

GUY

god. (he whispers, followed by a long pause. thunder rumbling through the cave.) god. (another pause.) – … – death. pain. (his voice trembles. another series of lightning and almost immediately roaring thunders. their base comes out so low through the speakers that it reverberates through the intestines of the audience.) death – … – . death – pain – hell. (he whispers into moments of silence.)

(he nervously crawls on his knees while the thunder and lightning continue. after a while he stumbles across something crumpled away in a corner. his attention and mood shift completely as he’s inspecting the strange find. it is an INFLATABLE FUCKING DOLL.)

GUY

(becoming excited and agitated.) hrrrnnnpff. hump – pussy – fuck – cunt – … (he tears the doll out of its corner and inspects it agitatedly. after he finds its mouthpiece he enthusiastically starts to blows it up. every now and then as he pauses for breath he breaks out in uncontrollable giggle or mumbles some of his four letter words.) hohohoho – nice – pussy – nice – … – mmmhh. hump, hump – ooohhh – aaaahh – oooohhh. (the more the doll takes on its fully inflated state the more he gets carried away by all of it.) nice – pussy – nice. hohohoho – …

(while he continues to blow he fumbles his penis underneath the loincloth so that as soon as the doll is fully erect his cock is also ready for action. he mounts the doll and starts thrusting away.)

GUY

oooooaahh – niiiice – pussy – pussy – aaaahh – niiiiice.

(he rides ‘her’ passionately, immersed in the act of fucking. the fear and misery from earlier on is completely gone now. OUTSIDE the night has turned into peaceful, moonlit darkness with humming background noises from various night animals. some odd ones are roaring away to accompany the gasping, sticky sounds from the cave. somewhere in perhaps another chamber we hear water dropping down into what sounds like a puddle, echoing hollowly.)

GUY

(squeezing and fingering the doll while his thrusts intensify.) hrrmmppf. hump, hump, pussy, pussy – hnnnf, hnnnf. ohhhh – aaahhh – ooooaaahhhhh. (pause. his thrusts continue.) looove. (he finally stumbles.) looove – hnnnppf – oooaaaaahh. (with climaxing passion earlier words are slipping back into his vocabulary.) god – life – pussy – love. god – love – life. love – life – lust. (pause.) fuck – drink – hunger. thirst. lust. god. hunger. love.

(the doll makes strangely moist noises as his penis slides in and out of the artificial vagina. it shakes awkwardly under his thrusts as if there was indeed life in it and his fingers produce a disturbing screeching sounds as they rub over the sticky plastic. he’s just about to kiss the hole-shaped mouthpiece, as the doll all of a sudden – without any warning – explodes with a loud PANG! – he is instantly utterly devastated, left in a state of complete shock.)

GUY

noooooooo! god – death – pain – love. pussy, pussy. noooooooo! (he holds the doll in his arms like a dead bride gunned down on their wedding day.) nooooooooo. god – god – hell – pain – hate. death – fuck – fear – life. love – … – life. aaaaaaaaahhhhhh! (he breaks down completely, sobbing helplessly.)

(he raises his fists against the ceiling, blaming forces beyond his control for what has just happened. flashes of lightning and thunder turn up again, as if to respond to his curses. the sky opens its floodgates to release heavy, dark rain. above the almost mute sobbing of GUY the stormy weather is the only thing we hear for a while.)

GUY

aaaaaaahhhh! – … – aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! (he raises his fists against the sky, then breaks down again, breathing slowly and heavily.)

(absentmindedly, his fingers wander across the limp plastic doll until they discover a small label sticking out from its side. he gathers his full attention to read what it says.)

GUY

(not quite capable of reading, but trying hard.) … god … in – cor – … – po – … – ra – ted. (silence, only heavy rain and remote thunder OUTSIDE.) rea – li – ty – … – you – can – … – trust. (silence again. he looks into nothingness. the implications of what he just read are slowly dawning on him.) god. in – corpo – … – rated.

(he unconsciously squeezes the dead doll between his fists, stands up and keeps looking into the black space in front of him. he is getting quite angry and really about to losing it.)

GUY

fuck. ass. (pauses. then he’s throwing the limp doll in a remote corner of the cave.) death – joke – life – love – ass – fuck – loss. (rain coming down heavily, patches of lightning pop up with increasing intensity. he screams the last words well over the top of the noise of the weather.) fuck – ass – … – grief. life. hate. god. joke. death. loss. (pause.) asshole.

CURTAIN – end of act 1

————————————————————————————————————–

ACT 2 – CITY

SETTING:

a very busy inner-city junction. shops in the background, street noises. GUY is standing there, wearing an immaculate business suit with suitcase and tie, attempting to cross the street in front of him. but a never-ending stream of cars does not allow him to. a traffic light seems to be consistently showing red. there are no other people on the street except him. despite the heavy noise he’s completely alone.

AT RISE:

GUY tries to step on the street again but fails. it is simply impossible. he seems exhausted, yet composed. he puts his suitcase down and sighs.

GUY

i’m stuck. here and now, as i face yet another ludicrous obstacle to my pathetic little life, i finally understand that i don’t want to go home any more. (pause, a little pacing up and down.) what is my home anyway? i’m lost. lost in a world which needs me only in order to use up my time and blood – for some people i don’t even know to become even richer than they already are. i’m trapped. in a dark, hideous prison. i’m a complete slave.

(he laughs dryly, picks up his suitcase only to slam it against the traffic light post.)

GUY

goddamnit. there must be a way out. there must be a way to change it all, alter this bullet-proof, rock-steady shit-hole called ‘the reality’ …

(more cars passing, also bigger ones, vans, lorries. we can clearly hear their doppler effect whooshing through the theatre as they approach, pass, and fade away in the distance. GUY puts down his suitcase again, this time a lot angrier. he starts to undo his tie and collar.)

GUY

is anybody there? hello … can anybody hear me? see me? do something? (he turns round to look into all directions. no one there. utter loneliness in the midst of a buzzing city.) am i really that alone?

(he kicks his suitcase. stacks of paper with numbers and pie charts fall out, flutter into the audience over the noise of the traffic.)

GUY

what can possibly be the point of all of this? the exponential accumulation of pointlessly printed papers? how could i ever buy into this crap? why am i born into such hypocrite fallacy?

(he pauses, pacing around in circles while the cars keep zipping past. the traffic light is still showing red. a romantic violin tune slowly forms, clearly a piss-take to cheesy hollywood love themes. he goes down to sit on the pavement, supporting himself with one hand like an old man. as the overall volume of the soundtrack fades down, his voice becomes calmer too.)

GUY

loss. (pause.) losing your straight-laced, nice and sweet girlfriend or wife one day, after she repeatedly told you with utmost sincerity how much she loves you, to someone turning her overnight into a cocksucking, “more” screaming whore. losing your best friend from childhood or brother one day, as he turns round with utmost sincerity to say “sorry”, before letting you down in exchange for the millions he’s just made through some outrageously daft business transaction. it’s all gone forever. love does not exist. like with all the other pathetic lies in your life you only ‘played’ boyfriend and girlfriend, you only ‘acted’ loving and caring – purely upon past programmes installed by your mommy and daddy or whoever else was put in charge to mentally, emotionally and sexually abuse you. in the end, what’s left of you is only the bald and sad football buddy who’s starting to piss himself as he slowly gets older.

(he picks up some of the strewn papers which contain sensitive company data and customer profiles – ’soap & cream media’ it says in a cute logo at the bottom right hand corner on each sheet. he crumbles them into paper balls and idly throws them into the audience. the music changes into something much darker while the car noises almost completely fade out.)

GUY

in the end, what it all comes down to is that you’re desperately clinging to the genetic programme from the time of your conception, and the whole goal of the game which follows after is to successfully distract yourself from the dark prospect of complete annihilation by fucking up others even more than you’ve already been fucked up by others yourself.

(pause.)

everything i’ve ever believed in was purely built on brainwashed lies. like everyone else i’ve been moulded into a fucking zombie by people around me. an ugly and cynical asshole. a killer monkey, trying to get out of his shit-hole at the expense of everyone else. whilst at the same time almost unquestioningly sucking off monkeys in power. it’s not even that they have actual power. but they’re successfully claiming it. they claim they’re holding the key to this world. the answers. enforced mainly through passport and money. ahahahahah. (he laughs uncontrollably.)

(longer pause. he stops throwing paper balls and becomes more withdrawn instead.)

GUY

and then the whole ‘god’ thing. yeah – religion. the spineless sell-out of consciousness and responsibility. all those cheap ideas about how your reality is supposedly manufactured, fabricated. what’s the fucking point to subscribe to such bullshit if you can’t even see the reality right in front of you? look in the mirror? face your SELF. what a fucking joke, ahahahaha.

(pause. he addresses the audience on a different note.)

we eradicate each other, eat each other, devour the code of the so called ‘enemy’. all we do, day-in and day-out is simply just add some more to our constantly growing portfolio of personal mayhem. (pause.) and who knows, perhaps that’s what we’re here for, live for, die for? either conquer everyone or surrender to whatever is stronger, better, more beautiful. whether we surrender to love or to power – most ridiculously – doesn’t seem to matter at all. all we want is to be eaten up, swallowed. we’re almost like black widows struggling to hand over our precious genetic cargo to the all-powerful eternal female through a fuck and a kill?

(he stands up and paces around nervously. he’s completely withdrawn in his own world. the level of car noises increases again. he takes off his shirt and unbuttons his trousers as if to go for a swim. his voice regains the momentum from the beginning, to rising above the street noise.)

GUY

whatever, i’m ready. i know where to go now. i know where my home is. nothing can hold me back anymore. (completely naked he spreads his arms as if to fly. he closes his eyes.) whoever or whatever there is – take me to you. (he steps off the pavement into the streams of passing cars. his eyes are still closed.) i’m all yours. i’ll always be yours. forever.

(as he dives into his death, the spotlight which has illuminated him throughout the whole act goes off and the sound changes into that of a a car crash. horns toot, tires screech. finally he ’s getting noticed. the crash sounds go on for a while. there seem to be quite a few cars involved. subtly the ticking beeps of a heart machine fade in, until they are clearly audible on top of everything else. as the heart beeps turn into the static bleep of death, the curtain falls and the theatre goes into complete silence and darkness.)

CURTAIN – end of act 2

————————————————————————————————————

ACT 3 – HEAVEN

SETTING:

the giant waiting lounge of an airport. the sounds of planes landing and taking off all the time. it says HEAVEN above one of the departure gates leading away from where GUY sits, alone. he appears to be very relaxed, comfortably dressed in a linen toga, with flip flops on his feet. his whole outfit bears strong references to muslim dress code. he slouches comfortably, his arms spread across a long row of seats. he looks absolutely beautiful. sweet, sharp and gorgeous. he performs the whole act floating somewhere between existential drama and stand-up comedy.

AT RISE:

he changes his position into something even more comfortable and expresses his peace-of-mindedness with accompanying long sighs. each sigh and word is followed by puffy clouds coming out of his mouth. though his loose outfit and open body language would not suggest, it is freezing cold in the room.

GUY

i’m finally free. it is so unbelievably beautiful. (pause, steam comes out of his mouth with each breath.) i am here. i’ve arrived. i’m one step closer to my personal paradise – or however i shall call the place where i’m going. (two, three breaths again. pause.) or should i say where the essence of my cranium, the ghost in the shell, the electrons of my yellow-grey brain mass are going. the molecules, spirits, the ‘energy’. me, essentially. my ’soul’. hahahaha. (he emphasises the exclamation marks of the word ’soul’ with a tongue-in-cheek smile.)

(another series of airplanes is starting and landing and flying by. it seems to be a really busy airport. GUY leans back deeper into his plushy waiting lounge seat.)

GUY

i’m so glad it’s all over. i’m so glad i’m here. the life i’ve lived, the world i’ve seen. it’s all been a complete disaster. a pointless rat race, a futile struggle. my genetic code wants to survive. my genes. whoa. big deal. and then what? does sheer genetic survival really make me a more happy human being? (pause.) in a world where if i’m not actually fighting for food or for shelter i’m otherwise busy trying to pass on those genes, find someone to fuck, and then what? feed any resulting offspring with my heinously patronising bullshit? make them take over family business and swallow my political and religious agendas? and then what? the company will one day collapse. the kids will one day be fucked up the arse. and in the end, what’s left? nothing. the annals of recorded history? in a book, on a hard disk, on a server? hahahaha. (he cracks off laughing for a while.)

(he changes his sitting position into something more closed, arms and feet crossed.)

GUY

there seems to be no fulfilment in our life. consummation takes place only at the time of our death. (another series of planes.) death is what we’re ultimately here for. the sun will eventually die. (long pause.) and yet. perhaps eternal life IS the ultimate and achievable answer to our crazy human dilemma. perhaps the fear of death is only a part of the evolutionary programme to reach such an ultimate state of being? would it be possible? by what means? at what costs? in which way? together with whom? for what ultimate purpose? or reason?

(he changes his sitting position, opening up again. there is now almost complete silence at the airport.)

GUY

it would definitely make sense in a way. molecules finding each other, forming something complex, solid and flexible – PLOP! – and thus LIFE, DNA, was born. well done, DNA. a double helixed spiral to HEAVEN. applied immortality as an outrageously beautiful, ‘random’ concept.

(pause.)

but it also means that the universe itself, its elements, quarks and dark matter, are also actually ‘life’ – in a way. and also when i die, all my electrons pop back to where they originally come from and therefore continue to flow. which means i’m, still then, actually ‘alive’ – in a way. i certainly look and feel different and my double-helixed spine has sadly expired. i’m ‘disconnected’, switched off, ’spaced out’ in a very real sense. but it is still ‘me’ in the end, all part of what i originally was. is there also a ’soul’ then? maybe. but if there was, would it really make death more comforting?

(pause.)

it would still mean complete and utter surrender to whatever runs this current existence. surrender to what we can not ever remotely hope to grasp in any way whatsoever. since no one who’s ever been there, to ‘life after death’, the hereafter or whatever you call it, has ever come back, have they? except jesus apparently, hahahaha.

(pause.)

on the other hand, is such a belief in or feeling of eternity not just another trick our mind plays on us in an attempt to ease the pain of our utter loneliness? the dark prospect of complete annihilation? like the hallucinatory visions of torture victims, as they can not possibly grasp any more pain decompiling their infinitely vulnerable systems?

(pause.)

maybe all which remains from whatever we’ve attained in this life are only the imprints we leave in the minds of other people who’ve met us? and that’s it, end of story. there is no such thing as an afterlife after all. why not?

(he becomes increasingly agitated, almost ecstatic as he gets up and starts to address the audience as if he was already in heaven and they still trapped on earth.)

GUY

i haven’t left any kids and i haven’t left any other historical imprints either. i’m a complete nobody. and yet i’ve made the decision to come here, in the most purified, dignified way. i’ve worked it all through. dug my way out of the shit-hole. i’m ready. and i’m happy. i’m completely at ease with myself. (pause.) i’m absolutely beautiful. i’m a beautiful human being.

(he starts to pace up and down, excited and smiling.)

GUY

i’ve worked very hard to become ready for this. all the suffering, all the pain. they are finally making sense. i’ve done it. i can finally accept myself, love myself. i’ve achieved. i’ve delivered. i’ve become one. i’m completely content. immortal.

(he turns towards the exit gate which says HEAVEN and starts to address the audience directly for the first time.)

GUY

i leave you all to it, dear people. to bravely tackle the futile battle. i know you can also achieve it one day – the ultimate, final surrender. and when you’re there, laid bare, utterly vulnerable and wonderful, my atoms or molecules or whatever remains from me, will be blissfully whirling and swooshing around you. healing, my friends. from the deepest depths of my soul i promise, i’ll do whatever i can that by the time you die you’ll be ready and beautiful too.

(before he enters the gate he turns round with a smile of sheer bliss. he looks absolutely at ease, humble, strong, beautiful.)

GUY

byeeee. (he waves his hand and turns to enter the gate.)

(after he disappears we hear another airplane starting and rise into the sky. it finally heads off and disappears from the theatre with a deep SHOOOM! sound above the humming base of the airport. until everything fades with the curtains.)

CURTAIN – end of act 3

THE END

————————————————————————————————————-

reinhard schleining
london, july / august 2007

first draft
© 2007, all rights reserved