c o mccauley

WAITING FOR BARDOT

AN ANTI-COMEDY

IN ½ ACT

SCENE I:

CAST:

     LCDR CHUCK “PAPPY” EAGER, USN

          By-the-book fighter pilot; second tour in Vietnam

LT P. J. “SLICK-STICK” O’SULLIVAN

          Hot shot throttle jockey; 53 combat mission

WANDERING VIOLINIST

          A gypsy

STAGE:

The stage is lit dirty yellow with flashing strobes as sounds of bombs exploding are heard over the ICS chatter of navy pilots, flying A6 INTRUDERs, attack Surface to Air missile sites in North Vietnam.

LCDR Eager and LT O’Sullvan are seated side by side center stage on two chairs, simulating an A6 cockpit.  They wear green flight suits, helmets (visor up) with oxygen masks unstrapped.  Eager has the flight stick; O’Sullivan is working the radios.  Both men carry 45 pistols.

In the background the audience hears combat chatter between the fighter aircraft taking on SAM’s, and the combat information center on the carrier.

The pilots are rocking in their seats, taking flak as the scene begins.

EAGER:     OK, Slick, this big dog’s gotta eat.  Turn on the heat!  (Pushes the stick down and simulates working the rudder pedals with his feet)  Rolling in at 400 knots!

SULLY          Roger, that!  Master Arm switches on!  (Flicks switches on his panel)

Both pilots lean forward in the seat, rolling and rocking like in an aircraft in heavy turbulance.

(A loud explosion, blinding light as both pilots lean back in their seats pulling G’s as they pull up from the target)

EAGER:     Kiss a fat lady in the ass!  Take that Uncle Ho!

STATIC-EY OFF STAGE VOICE:   This is Mother Duck!  This is Mother Duck! Bogeys inbound!

SULLY:     Roger that, Duck!  Shit!  Better hit the deck and run for it!  We can’t call feet wet for another coupla hundred miles.

A bright flashing red light goes off in the cockpit and is reflected on their faces.

EAGER:     Fire warning light number one!  Throttle to idle  (smoke fills the cockpit)

SULLY:     (On the radio through the oxygen mask)  Mayday! MAYDAY! Sidewinder Two’s been hit. Lost port engine!

STATIC-EY OFF STAGE VOICE:     This is Mother Duck. We have you, Sidewinder.  You’re five miles from the coast.  Can you make it.  Over?

(All sounds are silenced.  The stage is lit serene blue.  There is a yellow fog like haze flowing on the stage.  The pilots are now talking in normal conversational tones; the plane is suspended in air)

EAGER:     (wistfully)  Damn!  I sure liked those John Wayne movies.  You know, “Flying Leathernecks,” “Flying Tigers,”  “Wings of Eagles,”  great stuff!  Now there was a real patriot!

SULLY:     Yeah, but, you know, he never joined up during the war.  Guess he had his reasons.  I was never into movies much.  Some of the film noir, like “Murder, My Sweet” ,”The Big Sleep.”  Dark and moody, just like my childhood.

EAGER:     Whataya mean he never “served?”  He did more for the war effort and morale back home making flicks.  “Sands of Iwo Jima,” Sgt Striker, now there was a marine!

SULLY:     Maybe.  Anyway, here we are stuck in this shithole of a war with no end.  And, Nixon’s talkin’ about “peace with honor!”  What the fuck is that?  There’s more honor in a whorehouse, for christ’s sake!  You’re a lifer, right?  How’s that grab you?

EAGER:     By the balls!  That’s why god gave us women and whiskey, so’s we can forget this crap for awhile anyway!  You know, I wanted to be like Wayne, heroic and stoic, not buzzing around up here waitin’ for some 15yr old kid with a great eye for an A6 to blow me outta the god damn sky!

SULLY:     Yeah, maybe if we had a woman runnin’ this show it wouldn’t be such a cluster fuck!

EAGER:     A good looker.  Sexy.  Great tits.  Someone all those dumbass politicos would rather screw than make war.

SULLY:     It’s hard to stay motivated in this circle-jerk. On my last tour, I lost my skipper early on.  A real nice guy and a very experienced aviator.  His aircraft had some sort of malfunction and he dumped right off the catapult into the drink.  It was one of the worst nights I’ve ever flown.  I was out on a strike and just pull off target when I heard on the radio that he had gone in.  We finished the damn mission, a real pyrotechnic display because the Vietnamese were shooting low, big orange puffs coming right at us, and all I could think of was the skipper buying the farm.

SULLY:     That sucks a big one.  There is no endgame to this mother!  We’ll be shootin’ up oxen and blowin’ up trees and nappin’ villages and cookin’ families ’til they finally get us.

(lights darken, sounds of explosions and gun fire.  The pilots are back flying the plane)

SULLY:     YEAH, We better fuckin’ make it! (He switches freguencies)  MOTHER DUCK, MOTHER DUCK, THIS IS SIDEWINDER TWO.  DO YOU READ?

CRACKLY OFF STAGE VOICE;     Roger, Sidewinder, we copy.  Turn to heading 160, maintain current altitude and airspeed.

SULLY:     Roger, mother.  One burnin’ and one churnin’.  Turning to 160, 8000 feet, 250 knots.

Sure hope that starboard engine doesn’t come apart!  Shitfuck!  We’re losing power and altitude!  Milk that damn throttle!

EAGER:     I’m on it!  MOTHER DUCK, SIDEWINDER TWO. WHERE THE HELL ARE THOSE DAMN MIG’S?

MOTHER DUCK:     9 O’CLOCK HIGH 550 KNOTS.

EAGER:     NO JOY, MOTHER DUCK.  WE’RE STILL LOSING airspeed and ALTITUDE FAST.

SULLY:     Holy shit! I got ‘em sighted! TALLEY HO TO HELL, MOTHER DUCK, there’re right on top of us!  Let’s dunk this sonofabitch before they hit us.  Eject on my signal!  I’ll follow. (He taps Eager on the shoulder to ensure he understands the command)

EJECT   EJECT  EJECT

STAGE DIRECTION;     All is quiet.  Stage is lit under a brillant white light with smoke rising arond them.  Eager and Sully enter stage right and walk slowly to the center.  They are talking.

EAGER:     Jeez, this is weird. I don’t feel nothin’.

SULLY:     Yeah.  We don’t need these damn g-suits anymore.  Nothings holdin’ me back or up.

Say, when we get back to fighter town, Miramar, let’s take our wives to the club on a Wednesday “surf and turf” nite.

EAGER:     I can’t do that.  She won’t let me go there anymore.

SULLY:     Why not?

EAGER:     Last time we went, some junior officers took her shoes off and started licking her toes.

SULLY:     Shit Hot!  Wish we were there right now!

(They pause at center stage and don’t say anything for a few moments.)

EAGER:     Hey, you know how you can tell a fighter pilot

SULLY:     No

EAGER:     His watch costs more than his car! (They laugh)

SULLY:     Know how you can tell a naval aviator

EAGER:     No

SULLY:     He’s always dragging his tail when it comes to buying drinks!

EAGER:     Aw, fuck yeah!  (They laugh and walk a few more steps)

EAGER:     You know Sully, how many gooks you think we wasted on those nap run?

SULLY:     I don’t like to think about it.  Still dream of that run over An Loc.  Bounced the napalm on the first run, switched to guns on the second run.  I could see the slopes curling on ground like burned bacon.  Opened up with my 20 mike mike and watched ‘em bounce in the air.  Some just came apart like a granade.

EAGER:     Yeah I have that dream too! I remember during that Linebacker Two mission to take out SAM sites.  Jimmy O’Neal went in lead and I was 30 seconds behind him.  When I pulled out a SAM went right up his tailpipe and blew him and the plane to bits all over my windscreen.  We’ll never forget this damn place!

(Sully nods and looks stage left)

SULLY:     Hey, what’s that green light over there? Whooa! It’s pulling us towards it.  (They unsuccessfully resist being pulled stage left)

EAGER:     Oh shit! it that must be the other hell! (They scream and cuss, frantically fire their pistols,  as they are violently dragged into the now blazing green light).

(Stage is strobbed)

OFF STAGE VOICE: (distorted) Welcome back to The World, assholes!

SULLY:     (forlorn) O, godamnit, we’re home!

(STAGE DARK)

END SCENE I

(While the stage is reset, the audience is served by the cast, red and white wine from a box with cheese doodles as the gypsy violinist roams the audience and plays jazz)

The violinist moves from the audience to center stage spotlight in front of a podium. He “hurrrrumps” until he gains  audience attention then begins a monologue:

“And so it was as it is.  There is nothing to be done and we do it well.  We live in a senseless world deciding not to exercise free will.  It is, after all, a game.  A game best played in a small space since we are so large. A game, perhaps, best man-nip-u-lated by a goddess, sexual or other-wise.  Godwomen, it seems, know the objective and the absurdity of death or the universe.  They teach that nothing definite is exactly precise.  We remain in awe and curse these perverse goddesses without concern and dismiss them at our pleasure. Our concept of Peace is a stream of consciousness best enjoyed with chemicals and a sense of “non-being”

In the “goddess world,” war, then, is nothing more than a clove of garlic and only survives as a mince in a winter stew. Nothing REALLY happens in war.  Oh, yes, there are the suffering and the political subjectives but they are not real.  The goddess can turn on the light anytime and take us back to where we didn’t begin.

SCENE II

CAST:

     JAMES BRANDO CLIFT

          Thirty-ish drop out

     BRIGITTE MONROE

          Aspiring co-ed

     WANDERING VIOLINIST

          A gypsy

STAGE:

The stage is black; an old double bed with disheveled covers, positioned stage right, a toilet is back stage left; a table with a water basin and a bottle of Jack Daniels, middle stage left; a naked light bulb hangs center stage; a chair is just off center stage left.

Leonard Cohen’s “The Sisters of Mercy” is playing. at the end of the first chorus, the music stops and the stage is lit yellow; Brigitte and James are asleep on the bed.

(A tremendous explosion is heard)

BRIGITTE:     (Jumping out of bed) James! James! Wake up! Wake the fuck up! The Republicans are still in power!

JAMES:     (Rises from the bed slowly.) Hmmmmmmm, (scratches himself.  Walks to basin to wash) yeah, yeah, I heard.  What’s your big deal?  They’re always blowing up something or other and, besides, that one was a long way off…probably some nasty gay bar restroom with video cams.  (Pours a shot of Jack Daniels).

BRIGITTE:     Shit, it still pisses me off.  I mean, all that damn mini-macho crap.  Talkin’ tough in padded suits and tight-assed minds.  Those ass-holes are always so damn NOISY… bragging about their fucking guns and bombs! Shock and awe my ass…

JAMES:     Give it up, babe.  Those ‘Pelicans can’t fuck so they gotta fight and blow shit up to prove they got balls.  The “Don’t-know-craps” ain’t no better, thinkin’ they can talk the world into peace while havin’ their balls stroked by Foxy Brown.  Fuckit, John Lennon knew the answer.  Tear away the borders and get everybody into bed Yoko-naked!

BRIGITTE:     I know, I know, but it’s like watching an old Ronald Regan movie 24-7.  (Moves back to bed and assumes a sensual pose.) Come on over, stud, bring it on.  Let’s “shock n’ awe ‘em” with some sweet smokin’ shit and blow down OUR own walls.

JAMES:     (Lighting a joint) Ahhhh…you want me to be your leather lover? (Smiles, tokes, and passes the J).

BRIGITTE:     Nope.  Just a bare-back riding rope-a-dope will do.  Someone to “hemp” me out over my “rough” spots. (They stare at each other and smile.)

JAMES:     (Snuggling) I love the way you smell.  Like air off a sidewalk after a summer afternoon rain.

BRIGITTE:     (Furrowed look) You think I stink like I’ve been walked on, spit on, and scuffed around like some old piece of cement?  No wonder we don’t talk serious anymore.  You just don’t respect me. (Pouts). 

JAMES:     What are you talking about?  I just meant that you turn me on.  And besides, talk is overrated.  Let’s just take this “high” road for a while.

(Taking 4 or 5 hits each, actors adlib for several minutes about something that actually happened to them the previous

day. This dialogue, of course, will change with each  performance.)

(Long flickers of stage light, like a ships signal lantern alternating between black and white, signifies passing of time.)

BRIGITTE:     (CUE LINE) Shit this is good sheee-it!   (They sit cross-legged on the bed, her head on his shoulder.  Lights dim very yellow. Under single spotlight, the gypsy violinist slowly wanders stage right to left playing Cohen’s “Take This Waltz.”  He meanders center stage with bright spot and finishes the song, bows to the actors, glares at the audience, and exits stage right.)

JAMES:     What do you feel like?

BRIGITTE:     What do I feel like?

JAMES:     Yeah, you know.  Feel like.

BRIGITTE:     (Slowly, feeling the weed.) I feel like the United Fund for the Helpless.  That’s what I feel like.

JAMES:     Helpless.  You.  No way.  You’re one strong-assed, bite-sized bitch!

BRIGITTE:     Oh, yeah?  Then how come my friggin’ arm is limp!  And my neck, look, it won’t stand up straight (Tries unsuccessfully several times to hold her head up, but it falls back to his shoulder).  And now my ton-ah is too tick for mah mouph!

JAMES:     It’s just the weed.  Good stuff.  I got it from Tally the Trumpet down on Hyde Street.  I swear his leaf gives the best red!  And, do you know what he said to me (laughs in snorts).  “Man made beer.  God made pot.  Who do you trust?”  I mean, The Trumpet blows just too cool!

BRIGITTE:     Wha thaaa goona doth fo meth nowl?  Yth am Ith so ssssuckedup?  Yth canna Ith fine haa-penness whoon Ith eat it?

JAMES:     What?

BRIGITTE:     Yth canna Ith fine “haa-penness” whoon Ith eat it?

JAMES:     What do you mean can’t find my cock?  You’re a regular Dick Tracy, for christ’s sake. (Brigitte collapses on the bed.)

(Another large explosion is heard.  The violinist sticks his head out from stage right, checks things out, and pulls back in confusion.)

BRIGITTE:     (Slowly responding to the explosion) Gee-zuz! Dadum motha-ucers blowin’ uppda some mo rockits ona Castro’s Streeeet.  I can’ unnerstan that crazy-ass crap. (Twists her head around several times as her voice begins to return to normal). You sure this blunt isn't laced with fucking crack dood?

JAMES:     No no no, that's just SKUNK!  Strongest weed out there.  Keeps some people high for hours.  Looks like you’re clockin’ back in, tho.

BRIGITTE:     (Continuously wets her lips and shakes it off as she begins to come back from the haze.)  We oughta sneak some of this shit into those got-damn “poly-tea-shuns!”  Maybe then they’ll find their cocks more fun to play with than cluster bombs.  Give ‘em a good cluster-fuck.  That’s what they need, a double bitchin’ cluster-fuck.

JAMES:     Go gittem, Red Ryder!  You’re on a fine roll.  Now THAT’S talkin’ the walken, and I do mean Christopher.

BRIGITTE:     No, just call me Big Beaver, Queen of the South Fork Fuckerettes.  I never met a Tory who could handle his horse, or pony, for that matter.

JAMES:     (They both begin walking quickly around the stage.)  Damn, Bridg!  You’re beginning to peel the skin off this planet with your teeth.  You’re like the black girl dancing in the cellar, a blue flame of the revolution!

BRIGITTE:     Fuck up the Revolution!  Storm the orgy!  That’s our battle cry.  Storm the orgy, up the masturbation!

(Another large explosion)

JAMES:     Yeah, yeah!  Go girl, go!

BRIGITTE: Make the bastards all go naked into the good-fuckin’ night!

(Another large explosion)

JAMES:     Oh, shit for sunlight, yes!

BRIGITTE:     Don’t tread on me, muthafucka!  My colors can run right up your god-talkin ass!

(Another VERY Loud explosion; stage lights flicker)

JAMES:     Yeah, yeah! (Looks uncertainly around the stage)

BRIGITTE:     Kill all the cocksuckers; let god figure out if he wants to keep any!

JAMES:     Damn straight (Nervous waits for explosion that doesn’t come)

BRIGITTE:     Damn the public-crats!  Full cock and head!

(Another large explosion)

JAMES:     Yeah, Yeah!  Go, girl, go!

BRIGITTE:     The shaman shall cometh again and again!

JAMES:     (Drops to his knees beside her holding her hand) Yes, my love, oh, yes, yes, yes!

BRIGITTE:     (sings to the tune of “America,” head solemnly turned upward)

“My beautiful and spreading thighs

Await thy tongue on me

To feel my nest and throbbing hood,

Until I come with thee!”

(Grand finale; large and long explosions)

(James and Brigitte holding hands and move stage left in spotlight, heads bowed, as violinist, in second spotlight, enters stage right playing Cohen’s “Hallelujah” to center stage.

Curtain falls on final chord.)

AUDIENCE EXITS DRINKING



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