by Jon Padgett
~
“An ill-directed mind.”
The self-help guru’s voice is droning on through Rose’s Bug.
“An ill-directed mind.”
Rose navigates the sooty Interstate exit, and—beyond that—the whining roar of the mammoth overpasses looming above her like ruined cathedrals. The one-eyed, daddy longlegs streetlights observe her as they make their ambling way back and forth along the overpasses down ramps and back again.
“An ill-directed mind.”
Rose grips the peeling steering wheel, and it grips her back with segmented, white-painted legs. The leg-hooks in her fingers impart a sense of solidity. Her hands feel full and substantial on the wheel. Both her expansive, bare feet are melded into the segmented pedals below. Rose does not shift gears as she navigates the great, sweeping Interstate-ramp-bridges that curve down and up, left and right in soothing waves. Few vehicles but hers can be seen or heard on the roadways. Rose observes without thought, without judgment, that her car stereo is missing, now only a black rectangle in the sloping dashboard.
“An ill-directed mind.”
A solitary homeless man—grizzled, hooded and junk-sick—stands at the blinking traffic light. Rose pulls one hand free, steering wheel legs popping with an un-zippering sound. Tiny hooks or insect appendages fall twitching from the tops of her broad fingers down to the thick, black shag of the floorboard. Rose’s Bug slows down as she opens her glove compartment—humid and warm inside—and draws out her sign. The driver’s side window rolls down automatically as she pulls to a stop. The man, handlebar mustache drooping, gazes wide-eyed upon Rose, but extends a quaking palm nonetheless.
“An ill-directed mind,” Rose says.
“Sorry, ma’am? Can you, uh, can you spare anything?”
“Organ Void,” Rose says.
The homeless man drops his hand. “I ain’t down with the void. No ma’am.”
“Organ Void,” Rose says again, and gives him her sign.
The man’s bloodshot eyes water as his trembling hands take the flimsy, corrugated cardboard. It stinks of rubbing alcohol and pus. Rose pulls away, and the man, now slumped over, weeping, raises the sign to chest level. New insect legs push out from the peeling steering wheel and inject their hooked ends into Rose’s broad fingers.
Rose will keep driving up and down and below the Interstate, looking for the junk-sick, the despairing, the ill-directed, the suffering non-killed. Rose will show them the new way to be.
“What is missing at this moment?”
The spoken question comes unbidden from no source Rose can name, but the answer comes to her mind—from beyond it—almost immediately:
“Nothing. Nothing is missing at this moment.”
~
Nothing at all.
The Secret of Ventriloquism
A Play in 1 Act
CHARACTERS
JOSEPH SNAVELY
A lesser ventriloquist
REGGIE McRASCAL
Joe’s ventriloquist dummy
MARGARET
Joe’s lady-friend
MR. VOX
A Greater Ventriloquist
SCENES
Joseph’s bedroom
Scene 1
Early evening
The Night Airport
Scene 2
One hour later
Joseph’s bedroom
Scene 3
Early evening
Joseph’s bedroom
Scene 4
Midnight
The Factory
Scene 5
Evening
The Factory
(and a Dream)
Scene 6
Some weeks later
SCENE 1
(A cottage bedroom, early evening. Joe is sitting on a stool, facing the audience, in front of a large, see-through mirror frame that hangs center stage. Reggie is perched on Joe’s knee. The ventriloquist dummy is wearing a Halloween costume with diaphanous wings, bat ears and sparkles.)
JOE
(Clears throat.)
Good evening ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and welcome!
REG
Introducing Joseph Snavely, whose “20 Simple Steps to Vinkelikism” will go into your head and into your heart. And they won’t do your stomach any good either.
JOE
(annoyed)
And this is my ventriloquist doll, Reggie McRascal.
REG
Doll? Can you do this?
(turns his head all the way around)
JOE
What? Of course not!
REG
That’s funny.
JOE
What’s so funny about that?
REG
I thought all dummies could.
JOE
Quiet. Now let’s get on with today’s lesson, young man. Do you remember which step we were on?
REG
Sorry, Jo-Jo. I just can’t do any practice step thingies today.
JOE
Why not?
REG
Because today I’m in love.
JOE
You’re in love? You mean...
REG
(bending close to JOE’s face as if closely examining something)
What’s that on your nose?
JOE
(nervously)
It’s a freckle.
REG
It’s crawling.
JOE
(slapping his nose, annoyed)
It’s not crawling.
REG
I’m not kidding about being in love.
JOE
(fondly)
Love.
REG
Yeah, y’know there’s nothing like turning the lights down low.
JOE
I know.
REG
Smooching a little.
JOE
Smooching?
REG
Sure, then you sit in the loving room...
JOE
Loving room? That’s living.
REG
You said it! That’s living!
JOE
Never mind! Tell me something...
(REG bends close to JOE’s face again)
I...
REG
Your freckle has a friend now.
JOE
Now stop that, Reg! Tell me about your girl.
REG
Whaddaya wanna know?
JOE
Just some simple little thing.
REG
That’s her! That’s my girl!
JOE
No, I mean some peculiar characteristic.
REG
Well, she bites her nails.
JOE
A lot of girls bite their nails.
REG
Toenails?
JOE
Is that the silliest thing you’re going to say tonight?
REG
Nope, but it’s the funniest. That’s right, if you haven’t laughed yet, that’s the act, ladies and gentlemen. Well, good night.
(starts to leave)
JOE
(holding onto Reg)
Wait a minute.
REG
Get your goddamn hands off my shirt.
JOE
Reggie! Language!
REG
Yeah yeah yeah. Speaking of foul language, what about your girl, Joey? What’s her name?
JOE
Margaret. And she’s not my girl—she’s my lady friend.
REG
Lady? Ha! She’s no lady. And you complain about my potty mouth.
JOE
Show a little respect, Reggie. You know, I think it’s high time we get on with today’s lesson and speak a few words about Mr. Vox.
REG
Oh, yeah! Mr. Box! That guy really freaks me out!
JOE
Not Box - Vox. And that’s exactly who we’ve got to talk to these good folks about, right?
REG
JOE
Ventriloquism.
REG
That’s what I said. Hey, what’s that in the mirror?
(squinting)
JOE
Is this another one of your jokes?
REG
Naw, naw. Just something I see when I stare real real hard without closing my eyes – like, uh, I dunno... some kind of black fog or somethin’.
JOE
(alarmed)
No no, Reggie. Blink, blink. If you ever see black fog in a mirror, you’ll want to look away. Just ignore it. That’s right. And that goes for you good folks too.
REG
(blinking and trying not to look at the mirror)
Alright alright. Is this one of them steps to vinkelteltism?
JOE
The word is Ventriloquism. And no, it’s not, or maybe it’s a secret step.
(Turning back to audience)
You see, my aspiring ventriloquism apprentices, you need help. You may understand that mastery of ventriloquism takes many thousands of days of continuous practice, but—trust me on this—your family and friends won’t understand, not even your current or potential lady friend.
REG
Ha! You can say that again! Why you shoulda heard Joe’s gal, ARGH-aret.
JOE
Margaret. Now would you please just quiet down and listen?
REG
Alright alright! Jesus Christ.
JOE
Reggie! Language!
REG
Yeah yeah yeah...
JOE
That’s better.
(clearing his throat, addressing audience through mirror)
You’ve got to find yourself a real mentor, friends. Someone who can guide you through the difficult steps ahead. A Master Ventriloquist. Bear with me. An open mind is key to your future mastery of Greater Ventriloquism.
REG
A hole in the head don’t hurt neither.
JOE
(trying to ignore REG)
You see, after years of fruitless research and disappointment, I found my own mentor one memorable night in the unlikeliest of ways. As with any other late evening, I was sleeping in the bed next to my lady friend, Margaret...
(REG is pulled off stage right, as if floating, and JOE stands up from the stool, which is pulled off stage left, also as if floating. The bed behind JOE flips onto its bottom end, giving the audience a bird’s eye view of it. A stuffed dog rests at JOE’s feet. JOE, still standing, leans back next to a sleeping MARGARET and pulls the covers over himself, still addressing the audience.)
...our pet dog resting against my feet just as I trained it to do—and I was dreaming.
SCENE 2
(The bed, with MARGARET and JOE’s dog still in it, is pulled up above and out of sight, leaving JOE standing. The bedroom set and JOE’s ventriloquist suit split in half simultaneously. The revealed set suggests a mid-size airport late at night. JOE is now wearing a black tuxedo and inserts a large earpiece into one ear. The shadows of passengers come and go behind and around JOE.)
JOE
Passengers were disappearing from the airport—especially people arriving and departing on late night flights. These disappearances were linked to a terrible catastrophe that was inevitable if my mission failed. And as I conducted my investigation, I became aware that the passengers and the flight attendants, the pilots, the security guards and ticket tellers and even the airport itself did not seem real.
REG
(voice over)
Hello! Of course not! It was a dream!
JOE
(addressing REG, offstage)
No no no, Reg. I was in no way aware that I was dreaming but was convinced that the airport and all the people in it were not real. I felt an otherworldly wrongness in everything.
REG
(voice over, chuckling)
JOE
(ignoring REG, to audience again)
My employer, via secret agent earpiece, informed me that the secret of the night-airport disappearances was reportedly buried somewhere on the grounds between the short term parking decks and the departing floor of the airport terminal. This suited me fine, as it meant I could continue to work in relative solitude, away from the unnerving airport un-persons.
(JOE walks through automatic glass doors, suggesting that he is now outside. A strong wind blows in from offstage.)
As I walked through the automatic glass doors, a soundless helicopter with indistinct lettering upon it swooped over the parking deck and landed on one side of the otherwise empty arrival roadway.
(MR. VOX, a large, tall man in a dark business suit and mirrored sunglasses strides towards JOE, holding out a huge, gloved, right hand as if offering assistance. JOE shies away.)
MR. VOX
(in a distant, echoing monotone.)
My name is Vox. Let me help you.
(As MR. VOX—moving closer—reaches out, JOE thrusts his right arm out in an attempt to block MR. VOX’s hidden left hand. JOE realizes too late that MR. VOX’s extended right hand now holds a large syringe and needle, which MR. VOX plunges into the side of JOE’s neck. Blackout.)
This will help me put you together.
(Tight spotlight on JOE’s head as he begins to twist his head back and forth. Stage whisper.)
None of this is happening.
SCENE 3
(Lights up. The bed, with MARGARET still in it, is lowered behind JOE, still on its end, facing the audience. The bedroom set closes in front of the airport set and JOE’s tuxedo splits to reveal his ventriloquist outfit. JOE, still standing, covers himself up as if in bed.)
JOE
After the dream’s conclusion—far from coming to my conscious senses—my feelings of unreality grew more distinct and acute with every waking moment.
MR. VOX
(voiceover)
My name is Vox. This will help me put you together.
JOE
(tight spot on Margaret’s sleeping head.)
Margaret was in the throes of her own private dream, as I lay paralyzed next to her. Suddenly her movements stopped as the gaping, dark holes of her eyes locked onto mine.
MARGARET
(in MR. VOX’s voice)
Nothing was talking as Vox. It was talking through him.
JOE
(REG—eyes closed as if asleep—invisibly enters, floating in from offstage right, nestling into JOE’s arms.)
Since that night, there have been so many more nighttime experiences like this—so many lessons learned the hard way, and a great deal of exhausting pain and fear. But remember...
(picking up pen and paper and writing as he talks)
“STEP 10: Don’t be discouraged. Suffering and exhaustion are both key to your future mastery of Greater Ventriloquism.”
(addressing audience again)
And pay attention to your own dreams, ladies and gentlemen. Your ventriloquist mentor will find you just like Mr. Vox found me. Just you wait and see.
SCENE 4
(JOE's and MARGARET’s bedroom, late at night. JOE is sitting in front of the transparent mirror on the foot of the bed, slumped over without a shirt on in old, torn, red boxers. Reggie sits on Joe’s knee, still in his Halloween costume. Both figures appear to be asleep. A stuffed dog lies at JOE’s feet. A door slams offstage left, waking both JOE and REG with a start. Sound of dishes being stuffed roughly into a sink. MARGARET, wearing a pink business suit and heels, storms into the room.)
MARGARET
Fuck!
REG
Language! Language!
MARGARET
You asshole. You could’ve at least loaded the goddamned dishwasher.
REG
Language! Lan—!
(JOE covers REG’s mouth with a sheepish grin.)
MARGARET
How about you put that little fucker down for a second and get some shit done around here?
JOE
(Calmly)
Margaret, you’re upset…
MARGARET
You’re goddamned right I’m upset, Joe! It’s bad enough you waking me up in the middle of the night to tell me about your boring ass nightmares on and on, but the house looks like shit! I mean, what have you been doing all day?
JOE
Honey-pie, that’s not really fair. You know I’ve been working on this skit for the Halloween show. It’s taken a lot of diligent work to put it together.
MARGARET
Work? Work? I work twelve fucking hours a day—twelve fucking hours—in a soulless, corporate law firm no less, because you can’t seem to hold down a real job. I mean, I’m working all the fucking time here, and you’re sitting around the house playing with that creepy doll all day and night.
REG
Doll? Can you do this?
(turns his head all the way around)
JOE
Darling, we’ve been through this over and over again. Reggie is a dummy, not a doll. And ventriloquism is indeed a real job. Not only that, it’s a difficult job that takes hundreds and...