At rise: It is early fall. A bench sits at center stage. Downstage left is a wire garbage can. Upstage right stands a gnarled old tree dressed in its fall colours with a wrought iron fence surrounding it. Eli, seventy-nine, enters carrying an old gym bag. He is dressed nattily, but not ostentatiously, in a tweed jacket, well pressed trousers, a clean white shirt, a wool vest and an old and battered fedora. After brushing off the bench, he puts the bag down upon it. He spies a spot of bird-shit on the seat and cleans it with a hanky. This is ritual. The claiming of the bench. He removes his hat, puts it down carefully, and smooths his hair. He looks around and checks his watch.

Eli: Ah, what more could I ask? This is a remarkable day. The leaves are turning, the birds are flocking and I am alive and kicking… (Sits with a contented sigh) So! Anton is late. Anton is always late. It’s a given, you know the saying he’d be late for his own funeral? That’s my Anton. Every day of the week we meet at 2:00 in the afternoon, in the mall if the weather is bad and out here when the sun shines. We kibbitz a little bit, we talk about this, about that, we watch the world go by, the time passes. Never once has he gotten here before me. Okay, at least he’s consistant. This is my port in the storm. From here, I can watch the great sea of humanity passing by. It is my oasis of calm amid the desert of despair. From this spot, I can…Oi, How many clichés do I need to spout. Let’s put it this way. I like it here. Rises and approaches the stage. Look at that man. See? The one with the pin striped, knock-off Armani suit and the small gold earing. Look at him. He’s trying so hard to make an impression. I’m going to predict his future. Five years, personal bankruptcy. I guarantee it. And that woman in the cloth coat…the red one. Married, divorced, remarried and soon to be single again. How can I tell? One look. That’s all it takes. I’m telling you, everyone has a story they wear on their face, in their bearing, their manner. I sit here on my perch and examine the loose threads and frayed edges in the fabric of life. Hoo boy. That’s profound! you’d better write that down before you forget. So, where is Anton? Maybe I should leave, watch from down the road, begins to gather his stuff. wait for him to show up first and then …but what if somebody else should steal the bench. What would I be proving then? Huh? I need my bench. No, I love this bench. Sits

Anton, a retired professor, enters. He takes a moment, smiles, squares his shoulders, briskly enters and sits down beside Eli. His dress is more casual. He wears jeans, and a brightly coloured shirt. He carries a small backpack and, balancing two cups of coffee, passes one to Eli and sits. He stands immediately, passes the second cup of coffee to his friend takes off his backpack and sits again.

Eli: Ah, the late Mr. Ilych. How’s by you?

Anton: I’m not late, you must have arrived early.

Eli: Checks his watch. It is precisely 2:16 and 32 no 33 seconds. ( points to his watch) digital. Even after I give you your usual five minutes of grace, you‘re late. Even though your place is ten minutes closer than mine. Ah! It’s okay, why should I expect anything else? You’re always late…So, what’s your excuse this time?

Anton: First of all, I’m not always late. Secondly, if I am always late why should today be any different? I had people to see and places to be. That’s all I’m going to tell you. If you don’t like it, I’ll leave.

( starts to rise.) Give me back the coffee….. Only then, I’d have to eat both jelly donuts by myself. Oh well, No matter.

Starts to rise again but Eli grabs him.

Eli: You brought me a donut?

Anton: Uh huh.

Eli: A jelly donut, my favorite.

Anton: Raspberry, I know it’s your favorite. (Offers it then draws it back) But, if you accept it, you can’t ask any more questions about my morning.

Eli: A fifty cent bribe he brings me. All right, I accept.

Anton: Don’t forget the coffee. That cost a dollar and a half.

Eli: All right, a two dollar bribe. The last of the big time spenders. (takes the coffee) I’m trying to cut back. I‘m down to one cup in the morning.

Anton: Splurge, live a little. It won’t kill you.

Eli: It might?

Anton: So what. You’ve had a full life. This way you’ll be wide awake when you die. (sighs) Beautiful day for a funeral.

Eli: Beautiful is right. Smell the air.

Anton: (Sniffs) An unusual bouquet. Let’s see, tar, gasoline, dogshit, and a hint of rotting leaves. Lovely.

Eli: Get outa here. So where were you?

Anton: Eli, I hate to tell you this but you’re neither my mother nor my wife.

Eli: So? One’s dead, the other divorced you thirty-five years ago. Who else is going to look after you?

Anton: I had an appointment. Then I went to the University library. Are you satisfied? And what did you do today?

Eli: Ah, I was reading some poetry; Eliot. Takes out a tattered book Have you read the The Hollow men? It’s depressing but brilliant.

“We are the hollow men , we are the stuffed men,
Leaning together, headpiece filled with straw.
Our dried voices when we whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless as wind in dry grass
Or rats‘ feet over broken glass in our dry cellar.
Shape without form Shade without….

Anton: That’s more than enough Eli. You’re right it’s definitely depressing. What’s it about anyways?

Eli: Purgatory.

Anton: Story of my life. But I do love it when you quote. Don’t stop

Eli: in just-spring when the world is mud-lucious the little old balloon man whistles far and wee.

Anton: I know that one. e.e. cummings. But … it’s the wrong season, pick another.

Eli: Anyone lived in a pretty how town with up so floating many bells down. They danced… Oi what did they dance? I can’t remember. I…

Anton: Never mind. That’s enough anyway. (reaches into his bag) Have a donut.

Eli: ( takes one and has a few bites) Thanks…. So where was the appointment?

Anton: Too late, you already ate your bribe.

Eli: But I just… All right you got me. punches his arm. Bastard.

Anton: You betcha.

They sit quietly for a while, shifting nervously not knowing quite what to say. A young man passes with a boom box on his shoulder.

Eli: That’s what passes for music today. Rap. What a load of crap.

Anton: No. I like it. It’s got a great beat. Listen.

Anton begins drumming on his lap. After a moment, Eli joins in.

Anton: (With a rap beat) Pah-pe-pah-pe-pe-pah-pe-pah-pe-pah (still drumming)

Eli: ( Joins him) Oy-oyoy-oyoy-oyoy. Oy-oyoy-oyoy-oyoy.

(They keep the beat going under the words.)
Eli: Two old guys sitting on a bench,

Anton: One had a hammer and one had a wrench,
I mean one couldn’t rise and one couldn’t clench,

Eli: You mean one had a shower and the other had a stench.

Anton: Had a stench, had a stench like a wicked, wicked wench.

Eli: Who was French? Let’s retrench. One’s a schmuck and one’s a Mench.

Anton: Who’s a mench? What’s a mench? Is he sitting on this bench? Is he Russian? Is he Asian? Is he British? Is he French?

Eli: Wait a minute. This is ridiculous. Old guys can’t rap.

Anton: Oh yeah, then what can old guys do?

Eli: I can’t remember.

(Pause)

Anton: On a bench, in the spring, two guys sat, one was fat. They were old. They were cold. They were ribald, they were bold.

Eli: Anton---

Anton: Ah, behold. Yes, behold. Now I’m going to get told how my future shall unfold. Shall unfold. Shall unfold.

Eli: Enough already.

Anton: It’s enough. Have some snuff.

Eli: (Screams) Enough!!!!Goddammit

Anton: (Pause) Enough, that’s enough. Life is dirty. Life is tough…

Eli: (Threatens him)

Anton Enough? Do you want me to stop?

Eli: (Nods)

Anton: Okay (pause) So?

Eli: So what?

Anton: I don’t know? Just so….

Eli: (Gets an Idea) Sew buttons.

Anton: Ah, the old sayings.

Eli: Do we know any other kind? We are nearly in our dotage.

Anton: Yep, dotage. Well, that’s life.

Eli: Wait a minute! ( thinks) Do you remember the old … I don’t know the old thing about that.

Anton: What?

Eli: It was like a round. First I would say that’s life and then you would say…

Anton: Yes! Yes, I know do this one. (pause) Do it again.

Eli: What?…. Oh yeah, sure …..Well, that’s life.

Anton: What’s life? ( whispers) A magazine.

Eli: A magazine!

Anton: How much does it cost?

Eli: Ten cents.

Anton: But I only have a nickel.

Eli: That’s tough.

Anton: What’s tough?

Eli: Life.

Anton: I love that. ( laughs) What’s life? A magazine. How much does it cost? Ten cents. But I only have---

Eli: I’ve created a monster…. Dimes and nickels. You know they used to mean something.

Anton: You betcha. “A penny for your thoughts.” “That and a nickel will buy you a cup of coffee.” “Stop on a dime.” “For two cents plain.” “Your life’s not worth a plugged nickel.”

Eli: Yeah, “Shave and a haircut. Two bits.”

Anton: I’d forgotten. Yeah. That’s life. What’s life? What is life?

Eli; A mag –

Anton: Don’t.

Eli: Oh, he’s serious now. He wants to know “What’s it all about Alfie?”

Anton: Yeah. What is it all about?

Eli: These days? Drugs, steroids, Viagra.

Anton: Drugs. Antidepressants, stimulants, pills to lower your cholestorol, your blood pressure. Pills to perk you up. Pills to calm you down, vitamins, laxatives So many pills. I have this box with compartments.

Eli: On my way back to the center yesterday, I was accosted by two young hooligans “Get out of my way old man!!!“ they screamed. One of them shoved me so hard that I fell down and scraped my palm on some gravel. (Shows him his hand which is sporting a band-aid). After that I went into a drug store to get a band-aid and the pharmacist comes around the counter with a big smile and starts pushing me to go to my doctor and get a prescription for Viagra. “ It’s a miracle drug,“ he said. A miracle drug. A real miracle must have taken place in his bedroom last night Anyways, I was getting pretty excited about it, until I read about the side effects; flushing, headaches, skin rash, dizziness, diahrrhea, urination problems. I have enough urination problems thank you very much, and flushing? Give me a break. Oh, and on the other side of the package it gives a warning. It says that if your erection lasts for more than four hours, see your physician immediately. I can’t stay awake for four hours. Besides, I’d need a woman to make it worth while and I don’t think Annie the nurse would be willing even if I were able. These days, I need drugs more for stool softening than for tool hardening.

Anton: I tried it.

Eli: Viagra? Nooo! When?

Anton: Two years ago. Remember Minerva Adams from my building.

Eli: Nooooo! She wanted you to…. Nooo. Two years ago? You were…how old?

Anton: Not old enough to know better. It was a disaster. We tried to rekindle some memories but someone had peed on the ashes. Enough. It’s just too embarrasing. Answer my question.V Eli: Question?

Anton: What’s it all about?

Eli: All right. I’ll tell you. I read this book in the fifties, I can’t remember the title but it was by someboy called Mottley or Motely… I remember now, “Knock on any Door.“ It was called. He understood the meaning of life. He said, “ Live fast, die young and have a good looking corpse.“

Anton: You blew all three.

Eli: I’m not good looking?

Anton: Sorry. Not any more.

Eli: You wish! All right, No. Not any more. At least you left something.

Anton: What?

Eli: You had a book published. You wrote abstracts. You left your words.

Anton: My book was entitled Fertilizing your Happy Garden. I left words about shit. You. You had a son. You left your seed. You left your name.V Eli: What about your daughter?

Anton: ( Shrugs)

Eli: My seed’s in Nelson. I never see him. It’s all your fault. He read your book and started a grow-op. I’m kidding. He’s too busy being a big-shot evironmentalist to think about his Papa. To tell the truth, I didn’t leave much. Anton: (Sighs)

Eli: That’s life.

Anton: Yep. That’s life.

They sit in silence until Anton sees a beautiful young woman passing by. He waves frantically and makes suggestive movements. She is not seen by the audience. Eli munches his donut, savouring it.

Anton: Oh boy!

Eli: What?

Anton: What did you think?

Eli: What?

Anton: I’d like to do her.

Eli: Who?

Anton: Weren’t you paying attention?

Eli: What? I’m eating my jelly donut.

Anton: The best looking woman to pass our way in ten years just walked by.

Eli: Oh? ( rises and tries to spot her)

Anton: Tall. An ass that rolled like a slinky going down stairs. Long tanned legs in a tight white mini skirt.....And her breasts...

Eli: Yes?

Anton: Footballs.

Eli: Footballs? Thats the best you can do? Footballs. (sits) Okay.

Anton: My hands itched to touch them as she passed.

Eli: That’s your psoriasis. She passed by? ( pause) She didn’t stop and say to herself, “Oh my goodness, what a cute old guy sitting on that bench lusting after me. Maybe I’ll take him home with me and give him a blow job.”

Anton: Well....

Eli: (sighs)

Anton: (sighs)

Eli: Okay. (He nibbles on his donut.)

Anton: She could have been thinking...what you said.

Eli: But she didn’t stop.

Anton: She didn’t stop.

Eli: They never stop any more.

Anton: Never.

Eli: Never. (pause) They never did.

Anton: Never.

(After a moment)

Eli: Wait a minute, wait a minute. Now I get it. You got it!

Anton: What? What are you talking about? What do you get? What do I got?

Eli: No wonder you got so excited about that girl with the footballs. You got a twinkle.

Anton: (Shy) Nooooo. I don’t.

Eli: You must have seen Doctor Ruth on the television. I read in the T.V. guide she was going to be on Larry King Live. I’ll bet that’s what you were just thinking about. Every time you see Dr. Ruth. You get that twinkle.

Anton: Really?

Eli: You betcha.

Anton: I have to admit, I am attracted to that cute little Jewish woman. And that accent. The way she says smegma, scrotum, orgasm. I could listen to her all day long. I could marry that woman.

Eli: Isn’t Doctor Ruth married?

Anton: Three times. The last time was to Manfred Westheimer in 1961. He died in ’97. She’s available.

Eli: I’m surprised you know all this.

Anton: I know a lot more than that.

Eli: Tell me.

Anton: If I tell you, you may just want her for yourself.

Eli: So, he‘s afraid of a little competition?

Anton: All right, here goes, why should I be selfish. My darling Karola…that’s her birth name. She changed it to Ruth when she came to America in 1956. She was born in Germany in‚ 1928…June fourth. I‘ve send her a card for the last five years.

Eli: It’s like you’re a stalker. She’s Jewish? Maybe she’d go for me?

Anton: Nah, you’re too repressed.

Eli: All right. What else?

Anton: You want the whole bio?

Eli: If you don’t mind. I got time.

Anton: First say smegma for me.

Eli: Smegma. Orgasm. Copulation.

Anton: Okay, good. Thank you very much. All right this cute as a button 77 year old grandmother was born in 1928… I told you that, didn’t I? Never mind. At 10, she was sent to Switzerland to avoid the Holocaust. She never saw her parents again. At 16, she emigrated to Israel and fought for the Hagganah. Came to the U.S. in 1956 after living in Paris with her husband David. Doctorate in Columbia in 1970. First radio show in 1980 and the rest as they say, is history.

Eli: And just when did you realize that she was the love of your life.

Anton: I talked to her five years ago from the hospital when I was having those tests.

Eli: Five years ago. I remember. It was more than just a few tests. I was pretty worried about you. I meant to ask you… So, what did you and Doctor Ruthie talk about?

Anton: Sex.

Eli: No!!!

Anton: I asked her if it was normal for a seventy-five year old to experience premature ejaculation.

Eli: You experienced…. Not even a double dose of viagra could starch That…that ….Get outa here. (pause) Is it true?

Anton: No. If only it was. My formerly dependable breadstick is limp as a wet noodle.

Eli: So you started a relationship based on a lie.

Anton: I wanted to hear her say it. Premature ejaculation. It gives me such a thrill to hear that tiny old lady talk dirty with that adorable accent.

Eli: (Laughs) You’re certifiable. A nut case. You need lots of help my friend.

Anton: And what about you and Annie the nurse from my Senior‘s home?

Eli: That’s an entirely different matter…. She’s Annie.

Anton: We’re both nuts. Admit it.

Eli: All right, but ain’t it grand to be in love?

Anton: Grand.

Eli: All right. I just have one last thing to say on the topic.

Anton: And what is that, my friend?

Eli: Smegma. ….

Top

POLITICAL WILL

Lights come up on an immense and cluttered desk. Behind it sits Darryl Cleaver. He is dressed in an immaculate pin stripe. His hair is tinged with gray and his young-looking face is shiny clean. A telephone rings. This is the office of the Premier of British Columbia.

Darryl: Somebody answer the phone! (It keeps ringing.) Is anybody going to pick that up? Gillian pick up!!! Where in the bleep are you? Damn!

Darryl: (He picks it up.) Premier’s office. Yes?…Yes, it’s me. My whole damn staff seems to be on a break. Eight? Let me check my calendar. Gillian!!! I know I said I’d be there. I know that such an event doesn’t happen every day but I’m a very, very busy man and I have to check my timetable before I commit--- Yes Daddy. I do know that it’s you. Don’t you think I recognize your voice. (He covers the mouthpiece)

Gillian Banting, a severe looking thin woman, in her mid-thirties, enters at once. She is dressed in an expensive and somber black Italian silk suit and wears glasses. She is wound up tightly and always in a hurry.

Darryl: Where the hell were you?

Gillian: I was just powdering my…

Darryl: Well I don’t pay you to powder your bloody nose. Let it shine if it wants to. You’re supposed to be a liberated female. Bloody go to the can on your own time and don’t ever leave me in this office without some member of staff available to bloody pick up. Got it? What’s on for tonight?

Gillian: Yes, Mr. Premier. It is your father’s seventieth birthday today and you are due at his place at 8:00 p.m. His present, a maroon lambs wool cardigan size forty-two is wrapped and ready. I have taken the liberty of signing the card. At 8:30, I shall extricate you, claiming a prior commitment. I shall, of course accompany you.

Darryl waves her to silence.

Darryl: Shhh. Sorry Dad. Yep, I’ll be there. Congratulations. (hangs up the phone.)

Darryl: Gillian, you can’t just leave me in the lurch like that. I’m a busy man. Don’t you realize how much I depend on you?

Gillian: Mr. Premier. I had to relieve myself. I’d been working on your behalf for four hours without a break. I needed to go to the bathroom. I’m sorry I disappointed you, but sometimes, just sometimes, mind you, bodily functions might have to take precedence.

Darryl: Oh, don’t whine at me. Winners are never whiners. Couldn’t you just hold it? I have been behind this desk for just as long as you and…

Gillian: Don’t go there, Darryl. Don’t even think it.

Darryl: But I just---

Gillian: Shhh!

Darryl: Gillian, I just---

Gillian: (Sweetly) Darryl, you just want to say that you have more control of your body than do I and that men in general are more competent in controlling their bodily excretions than are women but I won’t listen to you and it really doesn’t matter very much does it unless you would like to turn this into a pissing contest---

Darryl: Pissing contest! (Laughs) That’s what I love about you Gillian… I mean that’s what I admire about you, your goddamn great sense of humour.

Gillian: I’m so pleased. Now, shall we go over your speech for the dedication of the new park?

Darryl: In a minute…(thinks) what park? What speech?

Gillian: Remember you cut the acreage for Wells Grey Park in half so that you could issue some new mining rights and are renaming it in honour of one of your heroes.

Darryl: Mulroony Meadows. Yeah, I remember now. I like the sound of that. Mulroony Meadows. How’d we get that one past the environmentalists?

Gillian: We didn’t, but with your large majority in Parliament. They don’t really count for very much any more.

Darryl: Sure, lets work on it. Thanks Gillian. Sorry I yelled at you. I forgive you.

Gillian: You forgive me? You forgive me? Why I ought to…

Darryl: Just teasing. Get the speech.

Gillian exits. Darryl takes a putter from behind his desk and sets up a cup, as the lights fade.

The lights come up on the dining room of William Cleaver’s house in Kerrisdale. This is an older ”character” home. An antique, mahogany dining-room suite dominates the room. The table is set for five with fine china and gleaming silverware. Off left is the kitchen. A door at centre leads to the front foyer. At rise, we can hear the sound of a martini shaker. William enters with a glass in hand. He wears a dark vest and an immaculate white shirt and sober tie. He looks every bit the patriarch that he is. He sits at the head of the table surveying his domain, takes a remote control from his pocket and points it at the audience. The strains of a Brahms Sonata begin. He looks around as if to ascertain that he is alone and takes a cigar from his vest pocket. Lights it, takes a sip of his martini, a puff on the cigar and sighs with ecstasy. He addresses the audience.

Will: (Raises his glass) Happy birthday to me. (Looks up.) The big 7 – 0, Three score and ten. I am venerable. Seventy. Where did it all go? What was it all for? Will you look at me? I am definitely not gonna get maudlin. Nope, I’m gonna get drunk instead. (Takes a big sip.) The only one of my offspring to ask me what I wanted for my birthday was Sammy, my grandson. He’s definitely a chip off the old block. Good kid. Good choice in women too. That Kelsey has quite the set of bazongas. Oh? You’re surprised? I may be old but I’m not quite dead yet. I can still appreciate a good firm set of…principles.

Kelsey enters from the kitchen. She wears a low cut peasant blouse with matching skirt and sandals. Her hair is long and curly. It is her best feature. She puts some dishes on a sideboard and exits.

Will: See what I mean? We’re going camping and fly fishing this weekend, all three of us. See? Those kids know that I’m not dead yet.

Kelsey returns.

Will: Hey Kelsey. How are things going in the kitchen?

Kelsey: Fine Will. Sammy is picking up the last few items at Stong’s and we should be all ready to go.

Will: Thanks for setting up this little party and the fishing trip. I’m looking forward to it.

Kelsey: (Sits) No problem. Got another cigar?

Will: Talk about liberated.

He gets a cigar from the humidor and hands it to her. She adeptly bites off the end and lights it.

Kelsey: A man is only a man but a cigar…

Kelsey & Will: is a good smoke. (They laugh.)

Will : You know? I’ll bet that Darryl brings me something that his handler bought for me, probably a cardigan sweater in some old folks colour, maroon or gray, and ten to one odds that my eldest, Arthur the incorruptible, bought a book to enlighten me. Some left wing tract, I’ll bet it’s the latest Michael Moore. He’ll never learn… Only my Martha knew me. Got me a skydiving lesson for my sixtieth. She always knew what I wanted. I survived. She didn’t. Died just one month later, when we were traveling. Did I already tell you this?

Kelsey: (Shakes her head to indicate no.)

Will: Heart attack. Like she didn’t want me to have to go through a prolonged illness. Like I said, she always knew what I wanted. Never mind. No sense getting sappy. Winners are never whiners.

You know what I want for this birthday? What I really want is one more kick at the can. You know, I read a poem once. Some young fellow dying of cancer wrote, “I am my own remains.” Well my eyes are fading and my stomach rumbles and belches without warning but I am not about to become my own remains. I still live on my own. I can still take care of business.

Kelsey: Damn straight you can. Speaking of taking care of business, I’d better get over to Stongs, I told Sammy I’d pick him up a half an hour ago. Will you miss me sweetie?

Will: Damn straight.

Kelsey: Good. Love you birthday boy. (Gives him a peck on the lips.) Be good and there’s more where that came from.

Will: As long as we don’t tell Sammy.

Kelsey: (As she exits.) Of course I’m going to tell him. He’ll be so jealous. Bye by.

Kelsey exits and Will settles back and savours the tobacco and alcohol. He points the remote again and we hear some slow jazz from the fifties.

There is the sound of a door opening.

Arthur: (Offstage) Are you smoking again?

Arthur enters. He is in his mid fifties, balding with a fringe of long hair and a goatee. He wears a Frieda Kahlo tee shirt, worn jeans and sandals. He is overweight and sloppy.

Arthur: Hey Pops. Happy birthday, (hands him several presents in a brown paper bags) now give me that cigar.

Will: Not on your life, (takes the presents) nice wrapping, thanks.

Arthur: Didn’t want to waste paper. Pops. Open them up. (Leans down and gives him a kiss.)

Will: (Shakes the first one.) A book to edify and educate, no doubt…

Arthur: A video. Well, a DVD.

Will: But I don’t have a---

Arthur: What do you think is in the second package? I’ll set it up and show you how to run it later on.

Will: So, a porno I hope. Something to stir the old loins like, perhaps, “Debbie does the Seniors Home.”

Arthur: Nothing so exciting. It’s the new Michael Moore flick. Fahrenheit 9/11. It’s really good stuff. Won the Palme D’or at Cannes. The Straight flew me out to do the review and interview the great Guru. Mike said he liked my style.

Will: That’s ‘cause you could be his twin. Never mind. I’ll ask Kelsey to pick me up a few blue movies.

Arthur: You will not! Oh, it’s a joke, ha, ha, ha. Why don’t I ever get your jokes?

Will: Because you have absolutely no sense of humour.

Arthur: That’s not quite true. I have an excellent sense of humour. I find, well, I think that… Bob Newhart is funny.

Will: Exactly my point. You’re grim my son, grim.

Arthur: I am not. It’s just that my sense of humour is well…

Will: Retarded, repressed reserved. Newhart may be droll or wry but…never mind. When was the last time you laughed out loud? Can’t tell me, can you? Of course you can’t. You haven’t any sense of humour. You never did. Even as a child you hardly ever laughed, just the odd snicker now and then whenever your baby brother got into trouble. You’re much too serious. With all that weight and no time for fun, you are a prime candidate for a heart attack. It’s no wonder that Jessie left you.

Arthur: (Snaps) Jessie left to do some research. She’s coming back. I talked to her just last week. She said that she sent you a gift certificate from Videomatica. You can buy or rent whatever you want.

Will: Are you two still together?

Arthur: I got an email the other day from the Galapagos. She’s off to Borneo and Sumatra next. We keep in touch. So, who’s coming tonight? Darryl gonna make it?

Will: Are you still together?

Arthur: All right. No. You happy now? This is supposed to be a trial separation but I think that the verdict is already in. See? I made a joke. Don’t tell Sammy. Jess and I want to do that together when she gets back. So just drop it. Is Darryl coming?

Will: For a while. I’m probably slated in between a Greenpeace confrontation and a Fraser Institute fund-raiser. You watch, that handler of his. Gillian, the Ice Queen, will drag him out within thirty minutes of his arrival. He’ll grace us with a half hour of his precious time. I shouldn’t blame him. He’s calling the election this weekend, my son, the Premier. Where did I go wrong?

Arthur: It’s your own damned fault. We were weaned on politics, Mayor of Kitimat, Vancouver city council. Then you just dropped the whole thing, other than your weekly diatribes in the paper. What did they call the column? Oh, yeah “Political Will.” Cutesy.

Will: I couldn’t compromise, no damn good at it. As a columnist, I didn’t have to. As councillor…

Arthur: You did a good job on city council. I’ve looked up the old records. You told us at the time that you wanted to spend more time with us, and you did…for about six months.

Will: One of the developers bribed the majority of the council. Mayor was in his pocket as well. Nothing I could do about it. It would have seemed like sour grapes if I fought them. They were too clever. Then I got offered the column.

Arthur And after you nailed them, you opened up the bookstore. I just wish… Look, dad, Darryl is an embarrassment to us all. He doesn’t compromise either but he seems to have found the pulse of the public.

Will: If only he could find his own… That was another joke. Find his own pulse. Get it?

Arthur: Sure. (He obviously didn’t but forces a laugh.) Well at least you’ve got me.

Will: Some comfort, take better care of yourself Arthur, I worry about you. Thanks for the gifts. I’ve been thinking about getting one of those DVD players. It was thoughtful.

The telephone rings.

Arthur: I’ll get it Pops. (He exits.)

Will: I don’t want to talk to anyone but Sammy or Kelsey.

Arthur: (Smiling) You’ll want to talk to this person. I can guarantee it.

Will: Give me. (takes the phone) Holy shit! Jack Taylor. How the hell are you? …. Yeah. Good. Thanks for remembering. How the hell are you? Well get your wrinkled old butt down here. Help me celebrate. What’s it been, twenty years? No. She passed ten years ago. Well, try will your best will you? Take a cab. My treat. I’ll set you a place anyways. Indulge me on my birthday. I’d love if it you could make it. I’d love it even better if you would stay with me for a while. I’ve got a big empty house. It’s good to hear from you. Of course Darryl’s coming. Arthur is here already and you have to meet my grandson and his girl. You will? Great! Attaboy, attaboy. Hah. It’ll be terrific. Arthur just got me a DVD player. We’ll rent old Gina Lola Briggida movies and chew the fat. Jesus. It’s good to hear your voice. It’s been way too long. All right. Later.

Arthur: I told you.

Will: So you did. Go to the kitchen and get another place setting. Kelsey’s present is the catering. I told her I wanted to go to “The Only” seafood, so she called them up and got their spare cook to come out here. He left everything on the ready stove. Said it’s the first time they ever did that.

Arthur: The Only Seafood eh? That dive still exists?

Will: Yeah, and they still give free chowder to the street people. So, what are you writing these days?

Arthur: Same old, same old. Oh, The Sun just hired me to do a feature. Meares Island ten years after. It’s going to be a three part series. I’m supposed to leave on Wednesday.

Will: Last time you were there you were ten years younger and fifty pounds lighter. You may find it difficult to hike the trails. Be careful.

Arthur: At least I don’t smoke anymore.

Will: Not tobacco, in any case. That’s why you’re so pudgy these days. You quit smoking cigarettes. Now you smoke reefer and eat candy, a good substitute.

Arthur: Yeah, I know. I was thinking of doing the Atkins diet for a while. Some of my friends have lost a lot of weight on that.

Will: That’s the one where you eat lettuce, cheese, steak, butter and lard. Sounds terrific. You get thin but your arteries get fat.

Enter Kelsey and Sammy singing an up tempo birthday song. They make quite a production of it and end with a flourish, depositing their gifts on the table. Sammy, tall and lean with sandy hair, is dressed in mod clothing with several pieces of body jewelry.

Sammy: Hey Dad, (waves to his father and hugs his grandfather and kisses him on the cheek) Hail to thee oh ancient one. How’s it going?

Kelsey: Happy Birthday handsome. (Gives him a big kiss.)

Sammy: Break it up you two. If I didn’t know that Grampa couldn’t raise the flagpole any more---

Kelsey: My present to your grandfather is a jar full of Viagra. (She winks at Will.) Later baby.

They all laugh but Arthur who looks embarrassed.

Kelsey: I was joking Arthur… The Viagra is for you.

Arthur: That’s a bit rude.

Kelsey: Sorry, just having a little fun.

Will: See Arthur, I told you. No sense of humour.

Sammy: Open the gifts Grampa.

Will unwraps a new fishing tackle box and reel. He has also been given a self-inflating air mattress and a fishing cap replete with lures. He dons the cap.

Will: How do I look?

Kelsey: Kind of like Henry Fonda in On Golden Pond.

Arthur: More like Katherine Hepburn. You’re too thin Pops.

Kelsey: He’s just fine the way he is. I’ve seen pictures. He’s always been lean.

Will: Lean. See not skinny, not thin or skeletal or emaciated. Lean. She gives it a positive spin.

Sammy: My P.R. hero. She’s going to be working on the NDP election campaign. Word is that uncle Darryl’s dropping the writ tomorrow.

Will: Then I pity poor Darryl. And what about you Samuel? How is the animation business?

Samuel: Not bad Grampa. But I think that I’ll have to move to Toronto pretty soon if I’m going to make a go of it. It’s okay free-lancing for another little while but there’s more studio work in T.O. We’ll see.

Will: I still have that cartoon of me that you did when you were in Grade five. I had it framed. You were so precocious. See Kelsey?

Kelsey: (Nods)

Will: Shit! I showed it to you last time you were here didn’t I?

Sammy: I was a very cute kid in grade five, wasn’t I Grampa? You would have loved me Kelsey.

Kelsey: More than I do now?

Sammy: Yep, … but in a different way. I was too adorable. Adorable is way more desirable than merely sexy. Now, you, you’re both. (Kisses her.)

Arthur: Get a room, you two.

Will: What for? Then I don’t get to watch. That’s all I can do nowadays. Watch.

Kelsey: I got you a jar full of Viagra. Won’t that help?

Will: I’ll go down to Davie Street next week and try it out. (Winks) I’ll give you a full report.

Arthur: Did you really get him …

Kelsey: I doubt he needs it. It’s our way of playing that’s all. Don’t be so uptight. Sammy, should I be worried about you? I mean like father like son?

Sammy. Leave dad alone. He’s going through some rough times with mom gone. He doesn’t like being alone.

Darryl: (Offstage) We’re here. Let the party begin.

Darryl enters with Gillian about two steps behind him. She stops by the doorway and hovers.

Darryl: Happy Birthday Dad. (gives him the present.) And take this too. (He hands him a signed, framed and garishly large photograph of himself.) My campaign head shot. Waterhouse-Hayward. He makes everyone look good. Here I’ll hang it up so you can all see it. Gillian!

Gillian takes down a beautiful print and replaces it with a life sized poster of Darryl. Under the photo is written “Darryl Cleaver for responsible Government.”

Arthur: Responsible all right, responsible for hardship and pain.

Darryl: Your heart is bleeding all over the carpet. You’re so predictable.

Arthur: I’m predictable! Give me a break. All I have to do is figure out what would help big business and hurt the public and --- Jeesus. Like that new Park you’re supposed to be opening. Downsizing the land for better public access. Bullshit! You’ve sold out to the your buddies in Brisco mines.

Darryl: What do you mean by that?

Arthur: What part confused you big bro. The selling out or …

Sammy: You’d better be careful Uncle Darryl. Big brother is watching you.

Gillian: Can’t we leave politics and sour grapes out of it? This is supposed to be a celebration. (harshly) That is a collector’s item, the first print of Darryl’s second run at the big prize.

Darryl: Aren’t you going to open the present?

Will: Of course I am. Do you know what’s in it? (Shakes the package.)

Darryl: Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. It’s a… (He looks at Gillian, who mimes putting on a sweater.) a sweater. Maroon.

Will opens the gift box and takes out the sweater.

Darryl: See? Try it on dad. I’ll bet it fits.

As Will removes his vest and puts on the sweater, the doorbell rings. Arthur goes to answer it and returns with Jack Taylor. Jack has obviously seen better days. He has cleaned up a bit for the occasion. His clothing is tidy, but threadbare. He holds his cap in his hand. Will, walks over to him and gives him a cursory hug.

Jack: Haven’t got a present or anything. Glad to see you doing so well, Willy. Wish that I could say the same.

Will: You look just fine. How long have we known each other? Never mind, I’ll answer that. sixty-two years. We met the first day you moved into Kitsilano from Montreal. I beat the crap out of you if I recall.

Jack: And the next day, I beat the crap out of you… Why do we have to do that every time we meet?

Will: We don’t. Sorry. Old habits. I’d like to introduce you around. Everyone, this is Jack Taylor. The only childhood friend I have left. Jack, I’d like you to meet my Grandson Samuel and his … sweetie, what do I call you?

Kelsey: Kelsey’s good.

Will: Marry her Sammy. Or at least propose. Then I’ll know what to call her. Anyway, she’s a sweetheart that’s for sure. Arthur you know. The woman with Darryl’s his handler. Gillian Banting. See? I know what to call her.

Arthur: I think Darryl’s wife, Selena, who hides in Victoria, calls her the other woman.

Gillian: I work for Darryl. I am not his mistress.

Kelsey: I’m sure that’s not for lack of trying dear. You can’t look at him without your libido showing.

Darryl: Gillian, I’m sorry. My dysfunctional family always operates like this. Kelsey seems to have joined the clan.

I’m sorry.

When the introductions are made Jack nods but doesn’t approach.

Will: (Moves back to the table) Come on in and sit down Jack.

Jack: I’m fine over here. My back…(He makes a dismissive gesture.)

Will: Suit yourself. You retired yet?

Jack: Not exactly retired. Redundant was the word they used when they let me go.

Will: How long ago was that?

Jack: More than six years ago. When Cleaver the younger was in charge of Social Services. Did thirty-five years as a case- worker, so he could call me redundant.

Darryl: There was a lot of waste in the system. I had a job to do.

Jack: See? I’m not only redundant. I belong in a sanitary landfill. Bastard!

Will: Take it easy Jack.

Jack It’s that damn son of yours Will. Mr. Premier Darryl T. Cleaver, yeah, I mean you Theo. Don’t you care about what people think of you? They call you “Cutback Cleaver.”

Darryl: I’m running for office. Not for class president. This is not a popularity contest.

Jack: “Cutback Cleaver” cares for nothing and no one.

Gillian: Hey, would you like a campaign button? Hot off the presses. Here you go. (She walks over to him, button extended.)

Jack: No damn it. Keep away. (She continues after him. He drops the cap revealing a gun.) I said keep away!! Sorry Will. That bastard has closed his last Detox centre. First it was the hospitals, then the school cutbacks. Then he went after me and then, the helpless. Fiscal responsibility he calls it. Took away the street workers, took away the… the list is too … I was … I wish you hadn’t told me he was coming but the truth is I had this whole scenario in my mind when I called. I don’t know where or when he lost his damn conscience.

Darryl: Sorry if I offended you. Now, it’s my father’s seventieth birthday. Why don’t you just put away that little gun, we’ll have our celebration and after that you and I can have a little talk. How does that sound? I’ll have Gillian make you an appointment right now. Can’t ask for more than that can you? Gillian, help the man out will you. He’s upset.

Gillian: (Grabs a huge binder from her bag and leafs through the pages.) How about September 12th. The election will be over. We’ll have lots of time for a good talk.

Jack: Go screw yourself.

Will: Jack! That’s enough. You are here at my invitation. If you want to kill my son, and I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it, you’ll have to do it on your own time. Now put that away!

Jack: That’s the whole point Will. I don’t have any time. That bastard you’ve sired has taken it away.

Will: First of all, watch your Goddamn language in my house. What’s gotten into you?

Jack: You don’t know me Will. You never did. Unlike you, oh, high and mighty, I haven’t had such a terrific life. Never married. No kids. Not much of a career. Now, I’m seventy-one and nobody gives a damn. Oh, I know. I’m the grasshopper that fiddled while the ants gathered their larder. Good old Jack. Always a barrel of laughs, well I’m not laughing anymore. (points the pistol at Darryl.) I didn’t have much. Didn’t need much. But I got along. (to Gillian who has taken out her cell phone.) Hey put that down. (She starts to dial.) Now!!!

Jack fires the pistol. Gillian drops the telephone. Darryl ducks under the table, Arthur takes a pad out of his pocket and backs into a corner to better observe, Kelsey runs into Sammy’s arms and Will moves into the line of fire.

Will: (Approaching Jack.) I said that’s enough.

Jack: I don’t want to shoot you Will. You are probably my only friend in this whole goddamn world. Stop right there.

He fires the gun again. Darryl dives to the floor and rolls under the table Gillian, scrambles beside him, to protect him. Arthur takes a small digital camera from his pocket and sneaks a few shots of Darryl and Gillian. Will doesn’t even blink but he does stop in his tracks.

Jack: I always envied you Will. You got the girl, started a business, earned a pile of money and traveled the world. Me, …

Will: Jesus H. Christ. Will you please stop whining? I did what I did and you did what you did and we had the lives we had and now we’re old. Okay. What do you want me to say? Do you want some money? I don’t mind. I’ve got money. You can have whatever you want. Just put the gun down and we’ll talk.

Jack: I’m not ready to put it down but I do want you to listen. I was living day to day; just marking time I met a guy who had just got out of Detox. Nice guy. I suppose you knew that I was gay.

Will: (Nods.)

Jack: Figured. He’d really straightened things around and…Listen to this. We were thinking of getting married. I know. It’s pretty stupid at this age but… last month, there was a crisis. It doesn’t matter what it was. He fell off the wagon, bad. I tried to get him back into the program but they were all full up. Cutbacks the social worker said. Too many staff cuts. Redundancy Darryl. Anyways, he was a nice guy. It wasn’t his fault. Gordon, Gordon Cameron was his name, tried on his own for a few weeks but Monday, he took off and disappeared. Fell back into a bottle. I found him in a dumpster this morning, another statistic for Cutback Cleaver. So, I called you. I didn’t know where to turn and I called you Will. (He starts to weep and lets the gun fall from his hand. Will goes over to him and puts his arms around him.)

Kelsey: I’m so sorry Jack.

Sammy: Yeah, me too.

Arthur: I got some great shots of our peerless leader clinging to his handler under the table.

Darryl: You’re pathetic Arthur. Sure, sell them to the Georgia Straight. Make a buck. I don’t care. Look, the voters wanted fiscal responsibility and I gave them what they wanted. We had to cut some of the frills. So what! They were too bloody expensive. What difference does it make if there’s thirty or thirty five kids in a class? We didn’t need hot lunches in the schools. They weren’t cost effective, and we got a few people off welfare, big deal, as if they needed it. There’s altogether too much welfare fraud going on.

Arthur: How much did your junket to Japan cost last year?

Will: Nobody votes for you in this house Darryl. Stop electioneering. This is my party.

Darryl: (Didn’t even hear him) and we closed a bleeding heart program or two. The detox centers were hotels for habitual drunks. They didn’t do much good. Life’s a bitch. Point is that all of these cuts are helping the economy grow. Isn’t that true Gillian? Tell them. When the economy improves, as soon as I can, I‘ll pretend to put a few of those things back.

Sammy: Shut up uncle Darryl. Nobody wants to listen to you.

Jack: Sorry Will.

Gillian: (Clearing her throat.) Well, now that that’s over with, I’m sorry we’ll just have to skip that dinner after all. Places to go. People to see. I sincerely hope we can just forget this little incident. We don’t really want to press charges so, if you’ll forgive us…

Arthur: Press charges. (he laughs) Make my day Bro. I can’t wait to publish some of these pics. Might even cop a prize or two out of it. (He laughs again.) And you said I had no sense of humour Pops. This, I find funny.

Gillian: Those pictures could hurt us Darryl

Darryl: All right Arthur, give me that camera.

Arthur: Try and take it.

Darryl: Don’t make me laugh. You may outweigh me big brother, but you’ve gotten soft. Now, give me the camera or I will take it.

Arthur: Go for it. (Throws the camera to Sammy.) Hold onto this for me?

Will: For Christ’s sakes stop it you two. Grow up.

Darryl: No. Sorry Dad. I’m going to enjoy this. It’s high time I got back at him. He’s always picked on me. Ever since we were kids. You were supposed to take care of me Arthur, not---

Arthur: Come here little brother. I’ll take care of you, (Rushes him then puts him in a headlock and gives him a noogie.) poor baby brother.

Darryl: How dare you!! I’ll beat the crap out of you. I’ll --- (He starts after Arthur.)

Sammy: (Steps in between them threateningly.) Uncle Darryl, why don’t you just leave while you still have one or two shreds of dignity left.

Gillian: He’s right. (grabs Darryl’s arm.)

Darryl: Yeah, let’s get out of here.

They exit.

Will: Let’s eat, shall we? Arthur, why don’t you and Sammy bring out the food, Kelsey you help too.

They exit.

Jack: I’m sorry. I thought…it was stupid.

Will: Never you mind. Hey, remember the Rocky Graziano story…what was it called…

Jack: Somebody Up There Likes Me. Hey that Paul Newman, there was a hunk. Why’d you bring that up?

Will: What did he used to say?

Jack & Will: Don’t worry ‘bout a ting Ma. (They laugh.)

Jack: We used to imitate him. That was along time ago.

Will: The early sixties. Arthur was a baby. You used to chuck him under the chin and say that. Don’t worry ‘bout a ting Ma. Look, I’m real sorry about what happened. No, I’m more than just sorry. It’s been too long. When I last saw you, you were off to Zimbabwe to work for U.N.E.S.C.O. or something.

Jack: Africa, (he sighs) best time of my life. When I came back, I was lost. I went back three more times Botswana, Zaire and Kenya. Finally, the poverty and the aids thing got too much for me so I went up to the Northern Territories. Nahani Butte. That was just as depressing as my last few years in Africa. Glue sniffing, abuse and alcohol were killing those kids. I never stayed at one thing or one place long enough to gather much of a pension. Just a dilettante, never made much money and what I did make fell through my fingers. Musician, logger, social worker, waiter, even did a stint as an actor. Not much else to tell.

Will: Tell me about Gordon.

Jack: Love of my life. He is …shit…was a dapper guy, a class act. Worked as the youth program co-ordinator at the Carnegie centre. He had pure white hair and a gorgeous smile, all his own teeth too. Don’t know what he saw in me. He was great when he was sober. Even when he wasn’t, the charm just oozed out of him. I thought I’d see if there were any courses I could teach. Told him about my experiences at the Butte. I did stay at school long enough to get a degree in social work. I thought that I could run a group or something. There were no jobs at the time but we hit it off. We went out for a coffee afterwards. The rest is history. We were together for nearly three years. A few months ago he lost his job. Funding cuts. It’s been downhill ever since.

Will: Where are you living?

Jack: I got a room in Gastown, enough pension for that. Don’t need much. Some aches and pains. Still smoking. Cough a bit in the mornings. Remember when more surgeons recommended Camel cigarettes than any other brand. I guess that was because of all the work they got. (Reaches into his jacket.) Mind if I…

Will: Go ahead. Got some Cuban cigars though, if you’d rather. Monte Christos, Sammy and Kelsey brought them back from Varadaro last year. I’ll join you. I started smoking again on my sixty-fifth. I’d stopped when I was fifty and figured my lungs were all pink and pretty again. I like to have an occasional cigar.

Jack: No thanks. I’ll stick to my own brand of poison. (Lights up.) When did you quit work?

Will: I lost interest in politics a while back so I opened a bookstore. Then Chapters came along and I couldn’t compete. Thought that Arthur might want it but he didn’t so I sold out to the corporation and walked away. Martha and I wanted to travel. Went backpacking like the young folks. Europe, Asia, Australia, all over. Came home every few months to check up on things. Probably would have kept going, too, had Martha not had her heart attack. We were pretty spry for sixty.

Jack: Heart attack.

Will: She went quick. That was a blessing. One day we were climbing Machu Pichu and the next thing I knew, I was on a plane with a pine box. She got to the summit though. Four days of the hardest trekking you could imagine. She was quite a woman.

Jack: That she was. Glad I got to know her.

There is silence. They have run out of things to say.

Jack: How did your two sons turn out so different?

Will: Luck of the draw. Martha and I were in Japan when we heard about Darryl’s first election as MLA. He’s got some good qualities. He’s always been a charmer. Put him on a television screen and he does radiate confidence, except when he gets around the family, then he’s such an asshole. Nothing was ever good enough for Darryl. I don’t understand how anyone could vote for him.

Jack: This is British Columbia. Nobody votes for someone. Everybody votes against the other guy. That’s how he got in.

Will: Jesus that was funny how he dashed under the table when you pulled out your gun. He’s always been a gutless wonder. Where’d you get that thing anyway?

Jack: A gun is a cheap commodity where I live. Fifty bucks will get you a pistol and twenty more will buy you the ammo. I never could have used it. I sure would like to do something though.

Will: What did you have in mind?

Sammy, Kelsey and Arthur enter with bowls of steaming hot clam chowder.

Kelsey: Soup’s on.

Arthur: Did we give you two enough time to catch up? I’m sorry about that… I … Sibling rivalry, I guess. I’m a bit tense lately; I shouldn’t have let things get out of hand.

Will: Same old, same old. He would have made an excuse to leave pretty soon, anyway. I don’t see very much of him any more and the truth is I don’t miss our visits. All he does now is talk about himself. I call it the “I dids.” You know, I did this I did that. As if he still needs my approval.

Arthur: We both do. You were always pretty sparing with your praise.

Kelsey: Let’s eat shall we?

Jack: Smells like “The Only.”

Will: No problem with your sniffer. Kelsey hired their second cook for the dinner.

Jack: I still go there at least once a week. I pay but I don’t have to. They still feed the street people.

Will: Well, let’s dig in shall we?

Arthur: I’m afraid I’m going to have to eat and run. I need to interview some protesters. They’re setting up a new tent city downtown.

Will: What are they protesting?

Arthur: Three more shelters have been closed down. Cutback Cleaver rides again. That’s more than two hundred beds. They’re just ordinary people, kind of leaderless but they feel like the only thing they can do is make a stand. He’s hurting a lot of folks that can’t really fight back. His new election platform calls for even deeper cuts. Street people are getting scared.

Will: I don’t know where that bitterness came from. I thought we always taught you kids to take care of the less fortunate.

Arthur: It’s political expedience.

Kelsey: I think he’s angry. Sammy says he used to get picked on when he was growing up. He’s getting back some of his own now. You taught him about politics. Second-child syndrome. Revenge. It’s no wonder that he’s the opposite of Arthur. Arthur stands for everything he fears and detests.

Arthur: Yeah, well…

Sammy: It’s true dad. Uncle Darryl is getting back at the world for shitting on him.

Will: That’s too simplistic. You have kids and you have expectations and sometimes they turn out and sometimes they don’t. You know, I get at least one phone call a day from someone protesting Darryl’s latest pronouncement. I don’t know what to say other than to tell them I’m sorry. He’s a talented politician. I just wish that he were a better human being. He’s a bloody embarrassment.

Kelsey: I don’t want to change the subject but Sammy and I have to take off pretty soon. We promised a friend we’d help her move into her new apartment.

Will: At this hour?

Sammy: She’s a nurse. She gets off work at ten. A bunch of us are going over for pizza and packing. What time do you want us to pick you up tomorrow? We’re going to leave the tent and gear here tonight. We need the truck for the move.

Will: Where we going?

Sammy: Hicks Lake. It’s about a two-hour drive.

Will: Pick me up at 6:00. Is that too early? We want to be there while the fish are still biting.

Sammy: No worries.

Sammy and Kelsey rise to go.

Kelsey: Bye sweetie. (Kisses his cheek.) Happy birthday.

Sammy: Tomorrow, old-timer. I Love you gramps.

Arthur: (To Jack.) Do you want a ride?

Will: He’ll stay the night. What do you say Jack?

Jack: Sure. I’ll stay. If you’ve got another of those Cuban cigars, That is. I think I’m ready for one now.

Will: I think we can handle that, and a brandy if you like.

Jack: I’ll pass on the booze.

Sammy and Kelsey exit and Arthur starts to follow.

Will: Hold up a minute Arthur. I’ve got an idea. Where are they setting up this tent city?

Arthur: In front of the Art gallery, at least that’s where the rally is going to be held. It’s a midnight vigil. Stupid if you ask me. They’re not going to make the morning papers.

Will: Thanks. See you.

Arthur exits perplexed.

Will: Cigar?

Jack: You twisted my arm.

They light up.Will pours himself a brandy.

Jack: What did you mean when you told Arthur that you had an idea?

Will: You said that you wanted to do something about Darryl?

Jack: Yeah, but there really isn’t much I can do.

Will: You’re right. Not unless I joined you.

Jack: Why would you do that?

Will: He’s my kid. I’ve got to take some responsibility. Besides. I feeling pretty low before you all came by. I need something to rejuvenate me.

Jack: What did you have in mind?

Will: Sabotage.

Jack: Sabotage?

Will: Sabotage, (He clinks his glass against Jacks.) to Darryl’s demise

Act One Curtain.

Top