Plays from Vault
Page 4
GIRL TWO. Okay, so I should harm my unborn child so you don’t have to drink alone?
GIRL ONE. Yes.
She turns to the barman. She returns with two shots.
Hey, the barman just gave us two tequila shots for free cos
‘Your mate is hot.’
GIRL TWO. You’re kidding?
GIRL ONE. This is so typical. I am meant to be the one on the pull.
GIRL TWO. I’m not on the pull. Did he say hot?
GIRL ONE. Yes and he’s like the only guy here over nineteen. So unfair.
GIRL TWO. Don’t be negative.
GIRL TWO does a cheers to the barman and takes a sip.
GIRL ONE finishes both shots.
GIRL ONE. Another? Can you give a little wink to the barman, we might get them for free again.
GIRL TWO. No way.
She winks at him.
GIRL ONE. Ha, it worked, you are on fire.
They get two more shots. GIRL TWO still only sips hers.
GIRL TWO. Ah, do you think anyone will think I am hot again after I give birth?
GIRL ONE. What, after your vagina is ripped in two and your stomach sags to your knees? I doubt it.
GIRL TWO. My vagina, my beautiful vagina. My colleague Naomi said hers was never the same.
GIRL TWO sips her shot again, a little more deeply.
Pause.
You know, it’s not like I am not scared. I have a life force growing inside me, living off me, stealing my life, my youth.
GIRL ONE. Like a nit?
GIRL TWO. Exactly. You know that breast milk is just blood without the red blood cells. I’m giving birth to a vampire.
She sucks.
GIRL ONE. An alien.
GIRL TWO. Rosemary’s Baby. And the birth, the pain. I’ll never be the same! Oh god.
She looks down.
Pause.
Two more shots for my beautiful minge!
They do two more shots.
And, like, I do love my job. Despite the pervs and battle axes. I am good at it.
GIRL ONE. Well mothers can still work? I mean mine didn’t… But yours did.
GIRL TWO. No. I have given in my notice. Finally. We feel it would be better for the baby, if one of us is home all the time.
GIRL ONE. What the fuck, no? You love that job. I love that job.
GIRL TWO. I don’t want to be always stressed and resentful.
GIRL ONE. Now you’ll just be bored and resentful and poor. Which is bad for all of us.
GIRL TWO. And what if I don’t have it now and then later I have problems and can’t have one?
GIRL ONE. Well, being a product of IVF myself –
GIRL TWO. Better not fuck with nature. That’s what I say.
GIRL ONE. Don’t talk like an American person.
GIRL TWO. Well, nature is strong and I am just hoping, trusting that when I am actually holding it, him, her, whatever, in my hands, these doubts will evaporate and my natural role will take over.
GIRL ONE. Like magic?
GIRL TWO. Plus his mum lives really near and does nothing so she can help loads.
GIRL ONE (concerned). You can still… not have it. No one will judge you. It’s your decision. He probably doesn’t even want it either.
GIRL TWO. What the fuck? Of course he does.
GIRL ONE. I’m just saying, most men don’t want one till later, because they can. Where as you, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
‘Believe’ by Cher plays.
GIRL ONE looks at GIRL TWO excitedly.
Ah, the ultimate alien!
GIRL TWO. You know you are a horrible little bitch and that is why no one likes you and you will die childless and alone?
GIRL ONE. Yup. I know.
(Brightly.) Hey, let’s do the routine?
GIRL TWO. What? No way.
GIRL ONE. Oh come on? It’s high time we showed these kids how it’s done.
GIRL TWO. You do realise that we are now older than the characters were in the film?
GIRL ONE. Speak for yourself, Grandma, I’m still twenty-eight.
GIRL TWO. We can’t. Not without Rose.
GIRL ONE. Of course we can. I’ll do Sandy and Romy’s parts. It’ll be great.
GIRL TWO. No that’s really weird. And impossible.
GIRL ONE. No it isn’t. Look, please? Rose would have loved it. I’d love it.
GIRL TWO. Ah. Okay.
GIRL ONE. Great.
Pause.
(In an American accent.) ‘Will you dance with me, Michele?’
GIRL TWO. I am not doing the intro.
GIRL ONE. Please?
(In an American accent.) ‘Will you dance with me, Michele?’
GIRL TWO (reluctantly, also in an American accent). ‘Only if Romy can dance with us.’
GIRL ONE. ‘Sure.’
They begin a very loose imitation of the dance routine from Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion.
It is definitely a dance for three and GIRL ONE has to jump from position to position to cover Rose’s moves.
As the dance comes back to her, GIRL TWO begins to get really into it, reliving her glory days as the hot, fun girl at university.
At a certain point, however, GIRL ONE, hit by the pathos of the moment, has to stop. She is literally dancing in her dead friend’s footprints and the pathetic tragedy of the whole situation, her whole situation, is overwhelming.
Ashamed of this moment of weakness, she quickly approaches a nearby man and starts to grind him, aggressively.
GIRL TWO is left doing the routine alone, until she notices GIRL ONE has abandoned her. She stops, hurt, and starts to smile at the barman, coyly at first, then more forwardly. She responds to something he mouths to her. She is about to walk towards him when GIRL ONE notices and quickly returns to her, tapping her on the shoulder.
GIRL TWO. What are you doing? I thought you were going to get with that guy?
GIRL ONE. He started dry-humping me.
GIRL TWO. You know what your problem is? You are way too contrary. Life is about compromise. Downsizing. Go to the toilets and fuck him.
GIRL ONE. I thought he was going to cum on my shin. What can I say? The romance died.
GIRL ONE checks her phone.
Oh my god. He’s not coming.
GIRL TWO. What? Who?
GIRL ONE. My Tinder date.
(Reading.) ‘Soz girl, Nunhead’s not even in London. See ya in 2016.’ Winky face.
GIRL TWO. Whoa.
GIRL ONE. No, I can’t take this. This was my big night out and now it’s ruined.
GIRL TWO. Hey, he’s not worth it. Let’s have another shot?
The barman’s promised me, like, five.
GIRL ONE (coolly). That didn’t take long, did it?
GIRL TWO. What didn’t?
GIRL ONE. Got them all lining up, haven’t you?
GIRL TWO. What is that supposed to mean?
GIRL ONE. Nothing. It’s just typical of you to be frantically pursuing all the attention you can desperately grasp.
GIRL TWO. Excuse me?
GIRL ONE. Like, you would shrivel up and die without the male gaze.
GIRL TWO. Why are you saying this?
GIRL ONE. Like the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz:
‘Ah, men aren’t looking at me, help, Dorothy, I’m melting. I’m melting.’
GIRL TWO. You are so immature.
GIRL ONE. Oh god, forget it. I am going to take some MDMA in the toilets. I am too depressed to educate you, yet again.
GIRL TWO. How dare you. I came all the way to this kindergarten, for you.
GIRL ONE. Oh come on, you jumped at the offer. Probably hoping you might kill that baby with booze.
GIRL TWO. Oh my god.
GIRL ONE. Anything to stop you having to admit you don’t really want it!
Pause.
GIRL TWO is momentarily unable to speak.
GIRL TWO. What is wrong with me? Why do I put up with this? We’re n
ot even friends.
GIRL ONE. Don’t be ridiculous.
GIRL TWO. No. We were Rose’s friends. And she’s gone, a long time ago. So why am I still here? I don’t even like you.
GIRL ONE. I have no idea, possibly cos you’ve bored the shit out of all your other friends, I mean, even Rose would bitch about you.
GIRL TWO. Fuck you.
GIRL ONE. Dunt!
GIRL TWO. When are you going to grow up and take responsibility for yourself and your pathetic little life? To wake up and realise that moaning, day in day out, is so, so, so boring. That singing badly over a nineties’ rap song is not performance art… or even remotely enjoyable. And I don’t care if it is meant to deliberately frustrate the viewer! That while you have been moping about, waiting for inspiration to thwack you on your talentless, privileged head, the world has moved on, life has moved on. And you have no right to judge those who have tried to move on with it. Or to leech off them for free food and twenty-four-hour mental-health care. That everyone loses people they love, has their heart broken. It’s how they deal with it that counts. That you could have asked me, just once in all these fucking years, how I felt, sometimes. Cos I didn’t feel great, a lot of the time. That having a child is a responsible, beautiful thing. IT’S NOT A VANITY PROJECT DESIGNED TO FILL A VOID LEFT BY SOCIETY. IT’S WHAT I WANT. IT’S WHAT I NEED. IT’S WHAT YOU WILL NEVER HAVE!
The music stops as the clock strikes 12 a.m. and the whole club starts to shout the countdown in unison. Dazed, GIRL ONE and GIRL TWO join in, reluctantly.
GIRL ONE and TWO. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year! Happy 2016!
GIRL ONE and TWO look at each other but do not embrace.
GIRL TWO walks out.
GIRL ONE is left. She looks around her.
All at once the music and lighting in the club change. Mica Levi’s ‘Death’ plays accompanied by a projection of Scarlett Johansson in Under the Skin, stripping and killing her prey to the same music.
The lights dim and a spotlight rests on GIRL ONE. She turns to the audience and looks at them, picking out the men and eyeing them curiously, as though seeing a man for the first time.
Her gaze lands on one in particular. She smiles at him. Then she slowly and methodically starts to undress for him. An absolutely straight striptease. Coat, shoes, jeans, shirt. She stands opposite him in her bra, beckoning him.
As GIRL TWO re-enters, the lights and music change back to the clubbing sounds of before.
GIRL TWO (returning with her coat). What the fuck are you doing?
GIRL ONE ignores her, or doesn’t hear her, and is looking ahead, dazed.
Hello?
GIRL ONE still does not respond.
You know what? I am done.
GIRL TWO exits.
GIRL ONE is left. In her underwear. Staring out at no one.
Blackout. Silence.
Scene Nine
Hospital. March. 2016.
GIRL ONE is lying on a bed.
GIRL TWO holds an Easter egg.
GIRL TWO. I brought you an Easter egg?
GIRL ONE. Why?
GIRL TWO. I thought you might be hungry.
GIRL ONE. They feed me in here.
GIRL TWO. Because it’s a tradition.
GIRL ONE. Well I am actually totally against the whole Easter-egg-tradition thing. So…
GIRL TWO. Oh god, fine. Cos work sent me, like, fifty.
GIRL ONE. I just think it is really warped that people celebrate the resurrection of Christ by gorging on chocolate replicas of potential life forms.
GIRL TWO. But it’s chocolate. It’s delicious.
GIRL ONE. It’s carnivorous that’s what it is. Especially when vegetarians do it. They should know better.
GIRL TWO. Right.
Pause.
So. It’s been… a while.
Pause.
(Brandishing the Easter egg.) I am going back to my job.
Hence…
Pause.
GIRL ONE. I thought you hated it there?
GIRL TWO. Well, I’ve had –
GIRL ONE. I thought you didn’t want to be a stressy bitch like your mum –
GIRL TWO. Well, I –
GIRL ONE. I thought you wanted to be a lobotomised Nigella, making cakes out of breast milk, or whatever you lot do.
GIRL TWO (whispering). Oh no.
Pause.
GIRL ONE. What?
GIRL TWO (weakly). I thought you would’ve heard.
GIRL ONE. Heard what?
Pause.
GIRL TWO. Well, you were right about one thing, at least.
He didn’t want it, said I should ‘get rid of it’, ‘better for us all’. That it was ‘irrational’ of me to want to have one after ‘only being together a year or so’. That I’m ‘too impulsive’, ‘impatient’.
‘Passionate’. What the fuck? ‘A year or so’? How long did he want me to wait?
GIRL ONE. What are you talking about?
GIRL TWO. Oh yeah and French lessons my fuck. The lying dickhead. Cheating little dickhead. I. He just came out with it:
‘I don’t love you. I never did. We’re moving to France.’
‘We’re.’
Like they’re an item. A double act. How dare they. He and She.
GIRL ONE. Oh my god. What are you going to do?
GIRL TWO. Rip his head off, that’s what. Voodoo-doll him.
Systematically contact his every acquaintance by email, listing his inadequacies.
GIRL ONE. What about your baby?
GIRL TWO. Don’t call it that. It’s not that yet, it’s an embryo.
GIRL ONE. Um. What about your embryo, are you going to…?
GIRL TWO. To get rid of it? And give him what he wants? No. I’ll have it. As a constant reminder, a ball and chain.
GIRL ONE. I really do not think that is a very positive way to think about bringing a child into the world. Really.
GIRL TWO. What am I supposed to do? Admit the mistake, blank it out? Let it all go?
GIRL ONE. You can’t have a child to prove a point. It won’t be happy, for you or it.
GIRL TWO. And what do you know about happiness?
GIRL ONE. Nice.
Pause.
GIRL TWO. Sorry… That wasn’t very… Considering. Um. How are you?
GIRL ONE. Fine.
GIRL TWO looks at her.
I’m fine! Please don’t say you spoke to my mum too? I accidentally drove off the road. That’s all that happened, it was dark, I was –
GIRL TWO. You haven’t even got a licence –
GIRL ONE. Reckless.
GIRL TWO. Fucking psychotic is what I call it.
GIRL ONE. Always so tactful.
GIRL TWO. Is your back okay? You’re not going to have to be in a wheelchair?
GIRL ONE. God forbid! Look, it’s just a bit bruised. It really was more of a bump than a crash.
GIRL TWO. You drove into the side of a school. / You could have hit a child. Imagine.
GIRL ONE. At 3 a.m. in Sussex. The place was deserted.
GIRL TWO. How could you do this to me?
GIRL ONE. Why do you give a shit? I thought we weren’t friends any more?
GIRL TWO. Don’t you dare. If I find out you did this to spite me in some way –
GIRL ONE. Jesus. Your self-absorption knows no bounds –
GIRL TWO. I had to get a two-hour train out here. Were you thinking of anyone but yourself? You selfish. Do you know what it would mean if you had…
She cries.
Sorry you should be the one crying.
GIRL ONE. Why?
GIRL TWO. Oh god, you freak, because you are –
GIRL ONE. Look. I am fine.
GIRL TWO. No you are not. No it is not. No it hasn’t been. No it hasn’t been.
Her cries escalate.
GIRL ONE tentatively takes her hand.
Pause.
GIRL TWO gets into bed with GIRL ONE an
d curls up next to her.
Pause.
I am going to get rid of it next week. I have already booked it. Signed its death warrant. I think.
Pause. They look at each other.
GIRL ONE (with deep concern). How do you feel?
Pause.
GIRL TWO. Will you come with me?
GIRL ONE. Yeah, course. If my mum ever allows me out of here, that is.
GIRL TWO. I’ve thought about it a lot. I thought about you a lot. You know how you’re a product of IVF?
GIRL ONE. Allelujah, indeed.
GIRL TWO. Well, you turned out… psychotic… But okay too. So I can always just fuck with nature.
GIRL ONE. Exactly. And you know, I’m always here for the harvesting.
GIRL TWO. Oh thanks. A great help your crummy IVF eggs will be.
They smile.
Pause.
GIRL TWO. Are we both doomed?
GIRL ONE. Potato, patata!
GIRL TWO. Tomato, tamata!
GIRL ONE (blankly). Let’s call the whole thing off.
The End.
MR INCREDIBLE
Camilla Whitehill
‘Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.’
Margaret Atwood
‘If the complainant (I do not refer to her as the victim) was under the influence of alcohol or drugs, or both, when she was ‘raped’, this provides the accused with a complete defence. End of story and a victory for fairness, moderation and common sense!’
Top UK barrister David Osborne, in a blog post entitled ‘She Was Gagging For It’, February 2015
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Marina at Underbelly, Polaroid Theatre, Fine Mess Theatre, Jean Kitson at Kitson Press Associates, and the wonderful Mat, Tim and Andy from VAULT Festival for their help and support.
C.W.
Mr Incredible was first performed at VAULT Festival, London, on 10 February 2016, with the following cast:
ADAM
Alistair Donegan
Director
Sarah Meadows
Producer
Rosalyn Newbery
Designers
Justin Nardella and Catherine Morgan
Lighting Designer
Jamie Platt
Composer and
Sound Designer
Benedict Taylor
Stage Manager