Away In A Sand Dune (AKA Jesus vs. Cannibals)

by Harley Byrne

in your belly.

  BYRNE notices that he has been untied and that he has eaten his meal and his belly is full.

  BYRNE. Bloody hell!

  JESUS. I need you to help me sabotage their pagan festival. It’s totally blasphemous. Together, you and I can put the Christ back in Christmas.

  BARNARD. Ha ha! Good one, Jesus.

  JESUS fixes BARNARD with a stare, makes a little whistle, and points down to hell. BARNARD holds his hands up by way of apology.

  JESUS. In return, I will deliver you from this island before Christmas Day is out.

  BYRNE. Can we have a moment to talk it over?

  JESUS. Of course. I’ll stand over here. But I’m obliged to inform you, God can still hear you.

  They huddle.

  BYRNE. Look. It’s Jesus versus the cannibals. We need to decide whose side we’re on, quick.

  BATT. Are we just going to believe that this native really is Jesus?

  BARNARD. I’m a Christian. I believe in Jesus by default.

  BATT. Just because he says he’s Jesus? Would you believe in me if I said I was Jesus?

  BARNARD. It’s too late now. He already said it.

  But all the same, BARNARD continues to look BATT up and down a little reverently.

  NADIA. We’re lucky we landed on a Creationist island. At school we read about these guys who were marooned on a place called Caprona, and they just got massive dinosaurs and massive birds all over them.

  BARNARD. That was in literature class… right?

  NADIA. I forget.

  BYRNE. Let’s look at this logically. If he is Jesus, and we don’t believe him, we’re going to hell. But if he isn’t Jesus, and we go along with his plan, we’re going to ruin Christmas. If he is Jesus, and we do believe him, we’re going to be fine. If he isn’t Jesus, and we nobble him, we’re still stuck out here in the jungle with the cannibals on our trail and no major deities to support us. Right. Was anyone counting the pros and cons?

  BATT. It sounded like we’re best off if we believe in him and we’re right.

  BYRNE. Okay. Let’s do it.

  BYRNE turns to JESUS.

  Alright, Jesus. Let’s trash Christmas.

  JESUS. Brilliant. But it’s not really Christmas, yeah? That’s the whole point. Otherwise I’d just be trashing my own birthday party.

  BATT. So what’s the plan?

  JESUS. Wait a second. Do you believe in me, Susan Batt?

  BATT. Yes.

  JESUS. Do you BELIEVE?

  BATT. Yes.

  JESUS. Do you?

  BATT. We had a vote. It’s fine. I’m in. Your Honour.

  JESUS. Here’s the plan. Over the years, Jonathan has been secretly stockpiling a banana-based fuel supply in his cabin. I found it when I was doing that work for him. He has everything he wants on this island, but if things should turn against him he’s ready to get this plane back in the sky and hotfoot it back to Sunderland.

  BYRNE. Fuel. And a working postal service-issue delivery plane. I like where this is going.

  JESUS. In the morning, when he stands on his gazebo to lead the singing of the Christmas song, we are going to create a massive explosion in his hut.

  BYRNE wields the Universal Ear.

  BYRNE. Let’s do it – after the song.

  JESUS. It has to be before the song. God cannot hear that song one more time. He’ll bloody flood us or something. Agreed?

  BYRNE mumbles.

  JESUS. Okay, so. Boom. Nobody gets hurt, but the natives will think the gods are angry with Jonathan, and in the ensuing chaos I will distribute these.

  JESUS passes around some old, half-burnt Christmas cards.

  BATT. 1980s Christmas Cards! You never threw them away?

  JESUS. I rescued them from Jonathan’s fire. I knew one day God would send me helpers. When the natives see the cards, they will know I am their true leader. Everyone’s leader, really. God’ll be happy, souls will be saved, and you can take Jonathan back to his family in Tyneside. I promise we won’t eat him.

  NADIA. But if we blow up the banana fuel, how are we going to get home?

  JESUS. I’m Jesus, remember? I’ll think of something. Bright child.

  JESUS touches NADIA’s head, condescendingly.

  NADIA. Don’t touch me, yeah?

  BARNARD. Nadia, don’t blaspheme in front of Jesus.

  NADIA. Ugh. He may be Jesus but I’ve got rights.

  BARNARD. Can you tell if she’s a virgin?

  NADIA. Daddy!

  JESUS and NADIA make eye contact.

  JESUS. Yes. She’s fine. And God says please stop trying to co-opt her sexuality.

  NADIA. Yeah.

  BARNARD (raising voice a little for God’s benefit). Right you are.

  BYRNE. We’ll need a fuse. Something long, thing and flammable.

  JESUS produces a length of tinsel and does a little dance with it.

  Good work, brother. Here’s what we do. Barnard, you and your girl go running through the village, screaming, in the middle of the night. This will draw the men folk after you. Jesus, you go back and distract the womenfolk with some magic tricks or something. Meanwhile, Susan Batt and I will lay the fuse. When the men come back to sing their song, they’ll be greeted by a real Christmas cracker.

  They laugh. Apart from BYRNE.

  BATT. Harley Byrne! Was that a joke?

  BYRNE. No.

  BARNARD. Let’s go! What is it me and the kid are doing?

  BYRNE. Sacrifice. I mean, distraction.

  BARNARD looks a little troubled. All begin to exeunt.

  BARNARD. Jesus! Wait. You’ve got a direct line to God, right? Can you get me a signal?

  BARNARD holds out his Blackberry.

  JESUS. God won’t speak to you on a Blackberry.

  BARNARD. No, I just want to get the sports results.

  JESUS waves the phone in the air but can’t get a signal.

  JESUS. Sorry. It’s all to do with satellites. Not really our department.

  BARNARD sighs. JESUS claps him on the shoulder.

  Come on, bruiser.

  Scene Seven

  BYRNE and BATT crawl through the darkness on their hands and knees. BYRNE has the tinsel tied around his neck.

  BATT. This isn’t the way to Jonathan’s cabin, Harley Byrne.

  BYRNE. Listen and learn, young Batt. Jesus is going to get his festival back alright – but I am not going home without that song.

  BARNARD and NADIA run past them, chased by a couple of NATIVES. BYRNE and BATT duck into the shadows.

  NADIA. Wankers!

  BATT. The village! Are we kidnapping the choir?

  BYRNE. Impossible. You’re too weak. We’re after tinsel. We’re going to lay the fuse – we gave Jesus our word on that. It’s just going to be a bit longer than he imagined. About the length of a Christmas song. Which is roughly equal to that bit there, that bit there, those bits along the thing and then that other bit. Let’s go.

  They crawl off stage left.

  They crawl back on stage left, this time with lots of tinsel. They crawl off stage right.

  They crawl on stage left again.

  BATT. This is it. Jonathan’s gazebo.

  BYRNE. Ok. I’ll break in and tie the fuse to a banana. You lay the rest of it along this path here. Can you do that?

  BATT. I think so. But –

  BYRNE. Do you have an idea, Susan Batt?

  BATT. If we lay the tinsel on the path, all the natives will see it.

  BYRNE. That’s an unnecessarily negative way to look at things. Come on.

  BATT. Also, the ground is still wet from all that rainfall and the fuse will never stay lit.

  BYRNE. Do you have a better suggestion?

  BATT. I could shimmy up this slippery tree and tie it to one of the slippery branches. If we run the tinsel down the trunk it’ll look like tropical sap. It’s just an idea.

  BYRNE. I see no problems with that idea. Susan Batt, you may yet make a competent studio engineer’s assist
ant or explosition.

  They shake hands and leave the stage in opposite directions.

  BATT (off stage). It’s so slippery! Come on, shimmy. Shimmy, Susan. A-ha. Up, up, up I go. Here we are. Just loop this round the slippery branch and tie it tight. Job done, and – oh dear.

  BYRNE re-enters.

  BYRNE. Susan Batt?

  BATT screams, there is a whooshing sound, and then the sound of a neck snapping.

  BYRNE. The sun’s coming up. Better hurry.

  The sun comes up. BATT hangs from the tree, dead, by a noose of tinsel.

  Oh no.

  Enter BARNARD, NADIA and JESUS.

  BARNARD. We gave the natives the slip but they’ll be back soon to sing their song round this very tree. Ah. What’s happened to thingy?

  BYRNE (tuts). Misadventure.

  NADIA. Is she totally dead-o?

  BYRNE. Totally.

  BARNARD. Can’t you bring her back to life?

  JESUS. Not really, no.

  BARNARD. But she’ll go up to heaven?

  JESUS shrugs.

  BARNARD. But she was much gooder than me. If she has to go to hell, what chance do I stand?

  JESUS. We have to have standards. It’d only take a couple of scumbags to ruin the whole place.

  BARNARD. What am I doing with my life?

  JESUS. Dunno. We’d better hide quick, the natives are coming. Harley Byrne!

  JESUS gives BYRNE the nod to light the fuse. BYRNE reaches up past BATT and snips the tinsel so that BATT’s noose hangs separately from the fuse. He lights the fuse, and they all hide in the brush.

  Enter JONATHAN, HIWA and NATIVES.

  HIWA. Sire – it’s one of the palefaces.

  JONATHAN. She’s hanged herself. Is that tropical sap?

  HIWA. Shall we remove the body?

  JONATHAN. Nah. It’ll serve as a warning to the other escapees not to pinch our tinsel. Right! It’s Christmas. Thank god. Let us sing our festive song.

  BYRNE primes the Universal Ear and aims it at the gathered natives.

  JESUS. I shouldn’t bother trying to record it. Everything’s about to go boom.

  BYRNE. I fear the fuse may be a little longer than you specified.

  JESUS. What?

  JONATHAN. And a 1 – 2 – 3 – 4…

  The natives hum a warm