DEE
(singing, very depressed)
"Isn't it warm, isn't it rosy..."
AKRIL
(cheerfully)
"Side by side, by side."
Ports in a storm--"
DEE
SHUT UP!
Biff runs in from the kitchen, sweat rolls down his face, leaving
brownish streaks on his pale white skin. He searches his briefcase,
reacts to finding his implements gone. Now, he catches his image in the
mirror by the door. His make up is coming off. Thinking fast, he
removes his eyebrows and blonde wig, revealing jet black hair beneath.
He is about to shove his wig under the sofa cushion when he spots the
blade left there by Fred. Tossing the wig on the floor beside the sofa,
he grabs the blade, the Yankee's cap and the fire extinquisher and is
headed for the bathroom when he hears Dot and BHRUNDI, a middle-aged
man who would stand five feet in heels, coming through the kitchen. He
glues himself to the wall until they pass, then slips into the
bathroom.
DOT
I think we gave them the slip.
Bhrundi carries a grocery bag. Dot appears to be holding her hand over
a wound in his abdomen.
DOT
Heavens, Ferdie. It's no use.
Dot removes her hand. Tomato juice pours out a hole in the grocery bag.
DOT
Well, you lost your juice, but
we still have the vodka.
Dot pulls a bottle of vodka from Bhrundi's bag.
DOT
I'd rather loose the Bloody
than the Mary, any day.
DOT
You'd better have the first draw.
Calm your poor nerves.
BHRUNDI
Thank you, Dot.
They sit on the sofa. Dot finds the chalice beneath the pillow and
pours herself a vodka martini.
DOT
Who do you think was shooting
at you?
BHRUNDI
I have many enemies, Dot.
DOT
I don't see how. You're just sweet
as yams.
BHRUNDI
I am sweet as yams, Dot, yes.
DOT
The way they talk about you in
the newspapers! And here you are,
just a little spit of a thing.
BHRUNDI
Yes, Dot. But you see,
this is not good for a dictator
of an unstable government to be
a yam. Yams are not feared.
So I hired an American
propaganda agency.
DOT
You mean like a publicist?
BHRUNDI
A publicist, yes.
DOT
Then you didn't kill all
those peasents?
BHRUNDI
Propaganda.
DOT
And you didn't cut off your son's finger?
BHRUNDI
My son is five foot nine! I am scared
to death of him.
DOT
Of course you are.
(she puts down the chalice)
So you really don't have a gal, Ferdie?
BHRUNDI
No. Gals are too afraid to get
near me.
DOT
Cowards.
Dot kisses Bhrundi. Bhrudi kisses Dot, leaning her back, running his
fingers through her hair. Dot's wig falls off onto the floor by the
sofa. Bhrundi is too impassioned to notice. Dot, however, realizes, and
gropes around on the floor while maintaining their embrace.
BHRUNDI
The fire still burns inside you, Dot.
DOT
(preoccupied)
Does it? Oh, good.
She, of course, finds Biff's wig instead of her own and quickly puts it
on without Bhrundi noticing.
DOT
There.
Dot can now afford to release the embrace. Bhrundi looks into her eyes.
BHRUNDI
Dot... Dot...
(he suddenly looks perplexed)
Dot, you look different somehow.
DOT
That's what love can do to you.
They kiss again. Art enters through the kitchen.
ART
Mother!
Art tears Bhrundi away from his mother and slugs him.
DOT
Art! Why'd you hit Ferdie?
ART
I thought he was raping you.
DOT
Oh, you're such a pessimist.
Now apologize to Mr. Bhrundi.
ART
What's with your hair?
DOT
That's not an apology!
BHRUNDI
You are Dot's son, Art?
DOT
Yes.
ART
No.
DOT
No. That's right, he's not. He's...
Where's my purse?
Dot's purse is no where to be seen. Sid enters through the front door.
SID
Did you find Shingles?
BHRUNDI
Sid?
SID
Ferdinand?
They give quick, ceremonial bows to each other.
ART
You know each other?
BHRUNDI
This is my publicist.
SID
The brain massuer said you had moved.
BHRUNDI
The brain massuer?
Fred enters with Meg through the front door.
FRED
Bhrundi!
SID
Him.
BHRUNDI
That is no brain massuer, that is
my super.
SID
He said he lived in the penthouse.
BHRUNDI
I live in the penthouse.
SID
Oh. Sorry about the rug.
FRED
Please, Mr. Bhrundi. Have mercy,
don't cut off my fingers.
DOT
Oh, Freddie, that's all prop--
BHRUNDI
(fiery)
Filthy peasent! Keep your fingers!
But don't expect a tip at Christmas.
Bhrundi looks to Sid who nods approvingly. Bhrundi gives Dot a wink.
She nods, understanding.
MEG
Where's Mr. Shingles?
SID
I ran into some F.B.I. dimwit.
He said they found the real Biff
Shingles tied and gagged in his hotel room.
ART
You mean our guy is the assassin?
SID
We should have known. His judgement was far
too keen to be N.E.A.
We hear the rush of carbon dioxide from a fire extinquisher. Biff
enters from the bathroom, whistling "Chattanooga Choo-Choo", wearing
the baseball cap and spraying foam from the fire extinquisher. With his
make-up removed, his skin is now light brown.
SID
Who the hell are you?
BIFF
(Mid-Eastern accent)
I am the exterminator.
ART
(no accent)
Wait a second. I know a scam when
I see one. Especially a scam
I just used.
BIFF
Very well, L'Atexio dog!
Biff tosses the fire-extinquisher aside and pulls the knife which was
slipped down the back of his pants. Several people gasp.
SID
Holy Shiite!
Biff points at Dot, threateningly.
BIFF
Give me your sacremental chalice!
DOT
Oh, I lost that fifty years ago.
BIFF
I mean the cup!
Biff yanks the chalice from her hand.
SID
What do you want?
BIFF
I want his bowels.
SID
Oh. Then I'll just be going.
Biff cuts Sid off from the door.
BIFF
I want your bowels, too.
DOT
What's he want bowels for?
BIFF
I am taking them back to Pepsmir.
There, I will hang them from the
Whining Wall in the Sacred Square on
the Holy Hill.
DOT
Are you another artist?
BIFF
Silence, wig-ged hag!
Dot straightens her wig, self-consciously.
SID
Some professional advice? A second
set of bowels just muddles
your statement. Less is more!
BIFF
(to Sid)
You, I will kill first!
SID
(cringing away)
No, wait! Force me to watch my
friend die before me. I insist!
Art rushes Biff, who pushes Sid aside and drives Art back with a swipe
of his blade.
VERONIQUE
Stop!
Veronique rushes in, clashing daggers with Biff and driving him away
from Art.
VERONIQUE
This man is an imposter!
BIFF
They know that.
VERONIQUE
This man.
Veronique yanks off Art's beard, and tosses it away (on top of the
canvas.)
VERONIQUE
(continued)
He is not Akril L'Atexio.
BIFF
Why would I believe you?
VERONIQUE
I came here on the same sacred misssion.
ART
Vera?
VERONIQUE
I wanted his bowels.
DOT
They're really in a rut with this.
ART
But you're an art dealer.
VERONIQUE
No. I am the heiress to a French
newspaper fortune.
DOT
Oh, like Patty Duke.
VERONIQUE
I became obsessed with the idea
of being an art dealer so I could
meet L'Atexio.
BIFF
You are not a Baba Shiite.
VERONIQUE
I am. Converted.
BIFF
Since when?
VERONIQUE
Since Easter.
ART
Wow. You are impulsive.
VERONIQUE
And obsessive. As are you, mon cheri.
(referring to Art)
This man has the heart of an artist.
The daring, the wrecklessness...
But he is not L'Atexio.
Like me, he is a lost child, seeking some
identity that will make
the world love him...
I cannot hurt you, Arthur.
Veronique tosses her blade to the coffee table. Everyone breathes a
sigh of relief until they realize the blade is now up for grabs. Biff
gets to it first, and is now a double-bladed menace.
FRED
Wait, please, she was telling the truth.
BIFF
Bah!
MEG
This is my brother, Art Angeley.
He's not an artist, he's nothing.
ART
Look! I can't even paint.
Art takes a tube of paint, a splatters a pattern of pink glops across
his canvas, then displays it to Biff.
MEG
Art? You did that?
VERONIQUE
My God.
DOT
Oh, it's pretty.
BHRUNDI
So much passion.
MEG
Such intensity.
VERONIQUE
Such urgency.
ART
It is... strangely affecting.
(Art smiles, looks at Biff)
What am I saying?
BIFF
Get on your hands and knees!
ART
Wait! This is my mother.
Mom, tell him some intimate details
about my childhood that only a
mother could know.
DOT
I can't help you, honey. I don't
have my purse.
ART
Tell them about my birth mark.
DOT
You don't have a birthmark.
ART
Yes, I do!
DOT
Oh! He has two moles on his left breast.
ART
No, that's Meg!
Meg flushes, crosses her arms over her chest.
ART
I have Woody the Woodpecker...
DOT
You have Woody the Woodpecker!
ART
(coaxing her)
On...?
DOT
On... T.V.?
ART
On my shoulder!
BIFF
The pathetic thrashings of a
dying man!
ART
No! Mom, listen! Am I an artist?
Dot looks at him for a hint.
ART
Mom, forget everything I've told you
tonight.
DOT
I have.
ART
Just tell him the truth.
BIFF
The remote control, the paint can,
the canvas! He is obviously an artist!
Biff positions himself to disembowel Art.
DOT
My son? An artist? I should say not.
ART
Tell 'im, Mom.
Biff raises his knives to strike.
DOT
He's a chiropractor!
Biff stops.
BIFF
This man, a doctor? Ha!
DOT
Show him, Art. Give someone an
adjustment.
ART
Oh, but--
VERONIQUE
Yes, Arthur. It is the only way to prove it.
ART
But I--
BIFF
Very well. Mr. Stole?
SID
Oh, uh. Yes.
ART
Alright, Sid, take off your jacket and
lie down on the coffee table.
BIFF
I warn you: One false move and I cut
off your friend's hand.
Biff pushes Fred's hand down on the table and holds the knife over it.
BIFF
The rest of you, face down on the floor!
They comply.
ART
Is there any place you're feeling
neuro-muscular stiffness?
SID
Uh, yes. Yes. In my neck. I can't bend
my neck back any further than this.
Sid tilts his back slightly, gives Art a wink, then lays down.
ART
Okay.
Art starts massaging Sid's shoulders. Sid moans gratefully.
ART
How's that feel?
SID
Terrific. These are trained hands,
I can assure you.
BIFF
You are giving him a massage.
Anyone could do this.
Art grips each side of Sid's head.
ART
Relax.
SID
Oh, I am. Completely at ease.
ART
This shouldn't hurt.
Art suddenly twists Sid's head with a jerk. We hear his bones crackle.
Sid cries out, Biff brings the knife down, Fred pulls his hand away
just in time.
FRED
Art!
ART
I'm sorry.
(turning his attention back to Sid)
Now, I surprised you, Sid, but it didn't
really hurt, did it?
Sid gives the okay sign, taps his foot on the table as a means to hold
in his pain. Biff secures Fred's hand on the table again, not realizing
that Fred has replaced his forearm with a marble penis.
ART
Good. Now, you're going to feel a
little pressure.
Art puts his hands over Sid's upper spine and gives him the kind of
jolt you might use to rescusitate a stopped heart. Sid holds in a
shriek, though some very strange alternative noises are emmitted.
ART
How's that? Better?
Sid taps his foot on the table.
ART
Good.
DOT
Oh, Art. You're magnificent!
ART
Now I just need to stretch
out your lateral verticals.
Art takes Sid's foot in the crux of one arm and his head in the crux of
an other, and tries to bend Sid backwards until the two ends meet. Sid
holds in his scream for as long as he can, then lets out a whopper.
SID
AHHHH!
ART
Good, Sid! No pain, no gain!
That should do her.
BIFF
But I was sure you were L'Atexio.
ART
No, I'm a fully-licensed chiropractic
technician.
Sid slowly tries to get to his feet, but remains in a frozen squatt.
ART
(to Sid)
Alright, Sid. Let's see how that
old neck's doing.
Go ahead and bend it back.
(Sid's head stays erect)
Bend it back.
(it stays erect)
Go ahead, Sid... Tilt that old sucker back.
SID
I can't! You've crippled me, you dimwit!
BIFF
Enough! You are a doctor like
I am a lounge singer. On your hands and
knees, infidel rodents!
SID
(re: Bhrundi)
Do you know who this is?
Ferdinand Bhrundi. He's
responsible for the executuion
of 200,000 peasents.
BIFF
Ha! The Emir is responsible for the
execution of 400,000 peasents.
BHRUNDI
I had my son's thumb cut off for
failing geography.
BIFF
The Emir had his whole family
slaughtered for forgetting his birthday.
BHRUNDI
(beat)
Who is his publicist?
SID
Wait! My God, what are we doing?
He's in the closet.
BIFF
Who?
SID
L'Atexio.
BIFF
You think me a fool? A transvestite
model with two personalities is
in the closet.
VERONIQUE
No, it is a madwoman sculptor.
DOT
No, it's a collection of barbed whips
and hip boots...
(the others look at her)
Maybe that's someone else's closet.
Biff knocks on the closet door.
BIFF
This is the Amir of Pepsmir's Master
Assassin. Is Akril L'Atexio
in there?
AKRIL
(beat)
No.
SID
He's lying, the coward!
BIFF
We shall see.
Biff makes the fatal mistake of removing the chisel. Dee and Akril come
out as a twisted amalgamation. Dee's hands are quickly on Biff's
wrists. Art boldly moves in. Grabbing the only Pillar of Life that is
still in tact, he clunks Biff on the head, knocking him out cold.
SID
Excellent clunk-a-roo!
AKRIL
Thanks, Bernie.
ART
And I didn't even break it.
The head of the sculpture slides off and drops to the floor. Dee starts
to react violently, but suddenly freezes in a catatonic-like stupro.
ART
What happened to her?
AKRIL
Oh. It's a stupor.
ART
I thought she was manic-depressive?
AKRIL
Oh, yes. Unless she gets very, very
depressed, then she's catatonic.
VERONIQUE
This is the fiendish mind that created
"Baba Mohammed From Behind"?
AKRIL
Oh, yes. But you ruined it.
VERONIQUE
Ruined it?
Akril points to the slashed brown splotch painting.
ART
The coffee stain?
AKRIL
Oh, yes.
VERONIQUE
That is "Baba Mohammed from Behind?"
AKRIL
Oui. That's what Sid called it.
Sid moves to the "dead" painting, grief-stricken.
SID
My controversy. My mecca of offense.
ART
So, in a way, Vera, your sacred duty's
been fulfilled. The evil has been
vanquished, even if it was by accident.
VERONIQUE
Not by accident. It was the will
of Allah. The painting, the deception,
it was all part of His divine plan
to bring us together. Are you willing
to be a convert, mon cheri?
ART
Are you kidding? I'm willing to be anything.
They embrace and kiss. Everyone, save Sid, "aws". Dot applauds.
SID
(mocking them, indignantly)
"Aw"? "AW"?! He's destroyed my
masterpiece!
ART
I'm sorry, Sid. How about if I give
you my painting in it's place?
SID
Your painting? That's not a painting,
it's mindless chaos. Who's going
to buy that?
BHRUNDI
(re: canvas)
It is the most compelling contemporary
work I have ever seen. I will
pay one million.
ART
What did you--?
SID
SHUT UP, YOU GAVE IT TO ME! Armagedden Art!
An Aesthetic Apocolyse of Passion!!
DOT
How exciting!
SID
I can see my review now! It'll be
a rave. Better yet, a condemnation!
We'll be on magazine covers!
"L'Atexio triumphs!" He'll be interviewed
on every major talk show in the--
DAH!
A suddenly anguished Sid finds himself face to face with Akril.
AKRIL
I don't quite understand anything
you're talking about.
SID
DAH-OHH!
AKRIL
Oh. You're mad cause I'm not hiding, but
a one-eyed man in clown pants has my luggage.
SID
DAH-EE-AHH!
Sid turns away, sees Art. He looks at Art, then at Akril, does a double take.
SID
(to Akril)
How would you like to be Ed Bread
and paint kitchens again?
AKRIL
Oh, yes. Could I start watching
T.V. and have a telephone?
SID
You got it.
He pushes Akril off to the side.
ART
But what about Akril L'Atexio?
SID
You're Akril L'Atexio!
ART
Me?
SID
With you as my public figurehead,
we can't lose.
MEG
But that's fraud.
SID
C'mon, this is better than anything
Ed ever did!
MEG
He's a fraud, too. I can't help perpetrate
that, I run a gallery.
SID
Fine. We'll sell exclusively through
your gallery.
MEG
That's not the point. What we'd
be selling isn't real art.
SID
What is art? It's not for us
to say. Our job is to produce
something, and if they want it
on their walls, it's not our fault.
ART
But Sid, I'm not an artist.
I don't even know how I did this.
VERONIQUE
Think, Arthur. What inspired you?
ART
I don't know, I was just trying to
make you love me....
Art surveys the painting, pointing to various sections of it.
ART
(continued)
Then when Shingles came, I had to prove
I was for real...
(to Veronique/of a face print)
This is where you and I were
about to... you know... then here,
I was mad at Mom, and, just now,
I was afraid he was going to
eviscerate me, and... the rest
I have no idea.
VERONIQUE
That is art! A need to be
loved, to create something worthwhile,
to unleash your passion, your anger
at your mother, your fear of death,
and finally, the hand of fate:
your hidden genious.
ART
(enlightened)
Then I really am an artist.
VERONIQUE
Oui.
ART
And you are my Muse.
They touch, lovingly. Everyone "Mmms".
MEG
Eh, I don't know...
ART
C'mon, Meg, let me be someone.
Let me be an artist. I'll
never ask you for another favor...
DOT
C'mon, Meg, don't be a stick-in-the-mud.
SID
I won't charge your brother and your
boyfriend with breaking and entering.
Fred looks into Meg's eyes, pleadingly.
MEG
(pause)
Alright.
ART
Thanks, Meg.
Art gives his sister a hug. Everyone reacts, very pleased.
FRED
Well, Miss Angeley, what would you say
to a little late night snack?
DOT
You're sweet, Fred, but I'm looking for
more than a snack. Ferdie here
asked me to marry him.
BHRUNDI
Did I?
DOT
In the stairwell, when you thought you
were dying.
BHRUNDI
Ah, yes! You have a good memory.
DOT
It's selective.
BHRUNDI
Well, shall we seek out your purse, Dot?
DOT
To hell with it. Ever since I lost all
those notes, my mind seems clearer.
MEG
Really, Mom?
DOT
Let's see. Fred doesn't live upstairs,
Ferdie does.
BHRUNDI
Yes.
DOT
She's not a dinosaur, she's the
man in the closet's girlfriend.
AKRIL
Oh, yes.
DOT
The fella with the bowel fixation is
actually a Persian assassin, the
sort of rat-weasel faced man holding him is
Sid, your publicist, and Art's not
a chiropractor, he's an artist.
ART
Right. Wow, Mom.
MEG
That's terrific.
DOT
Well, my mother always said, "I have
a great memory..."
ART
(beat)
"It's just short."
DOT
What is?
ART
Nevermind.
Veronique kisses Art on the back of the neck.
ART
Well, goodnight, everyone.
Dee moans as Akril gets her to her feet.
VERONIQUE
Is there anything we can do for her?
AKRIL
Oh, no. She'll be back to her old
self in a day or two.
ART
Ed, here are the keys to your new apartment.
30-12 41st Street, Queens.
AKRIL
Hm? Oh, yes. Good, I like Queens.
Akril and Dee exit.
ART
Fred, do you think you and Meg could
drag Shingles to the lobby on your
way out, maybe call the F.B.I.
The starry-eyed lovers walk past Art, ignoring him completely.
ART
I'll do it.
Art grabs Sid to help.
ART
Thanks, Sid.
Art helps heft Biff up onto Sid's shoulder.
ART
I owe you.
SID
Ninety percent of everything you
make from now on, you dimwit.
Sid exits with Biff.
BHRUNDI
Shall I reserve the Q.E. II
for our honeymoon?
DOT
The whole thing? My! I heard you'd
embezzled 300 million from your
government, but I thought it
was propaganda.
BHRUNDI
Not everything you read is propaganda.
Dot gives Art a kiss on the cheek, sees herself in a mirror by the
door.
DOT
Ugh! They just don't make mirrors
like they used to.
Dot exits with Bhrundi, Art closes the door and turns to Veronique.
VERONIQUE
Oh, Arthur. Finally, we are alone.
He moves closer.
ART
Finally...
VERONIQUE
Finally...
He embraces her.
ART
Finally...
VERONIQUE
Finally...
ART
Finally!
VERONIQUE
You can paint me.
On Art's reaction, we black out.
END OF PLAY
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