"Butch Gardens, Episode 2" by Mocha Tchokha Rose

            (A PANTHER LADY approaches the fearsome ELINOR RADLEY.)

PANTHER LADY

            (Snarling)
The first plane is down, mistress.

ELINOR RADLEY

            (Hissing)
Describe the women to me.

PANTHER LADY

They are beautiful.

ELINOR RADLEY

Pretty, or---you know---beautiful?

PANTHER LADY

Real beauties.  Muscular calves.

ELINOR RADLEY

Ah . . .

PANTHER LADY

Unvarnished, natural beauties.

ELINOR RADLEY

I cannot wait.

PANTHER LADY

They’re coming.

            (They scurry behind some foliage.)

            END OF EPISODE 2.

"Butch Gardens, Episode 1" by Mocha Tchokha Rose

LONNIE

Annie, what is this place?

ANNIE

I just got out of the crashed airplane.

LONNIE

’You hurt?

ANNIE

Nothin’ for a lady like me.

LONNIE

            (Terrified)
Where’s my hand?
            (Appeased)
Oh, I just lost the feelin’ in it.  What can you do . . .  Where are we?

            (ANNIE unfolds a map.)

                  LONNIE (Continued)

That map won’t---

ANNIE

It can’t hurt---

LONNIE

We were flying over the Amazon.

ANNIE

I hear a mighty river---

            (The roar of water.)

                   ANNIE (Continued)

Should we march towards it?

            (They head in the direction of the roar.  Someone is watching from behind a woman-
          eating plant.)

          END OF EPISODE 1.

Epilogue to "The Trial of Westward Ho": "Overheard Voices IV"

            (My teacher says that overheard voices can be more interesting than what we

            make up ourselves. I doubt it.)

MAN

Class, this woman would like to speak to you.

OLDER WOMAN

I have a blog.  It used to be my son’s.  Yes, the one you know.  I need someone to take charge of it.  I have no head for writing---though I might have written a play or two.  I need a writer.  I will not pay.

            (All the PUPILS, in eager foolishness, raise their hands.  The OLDER WOMAN
            selects a YOUNG WOMAN.)

                   OLDER WOMAN (Continued)

You, with hair like a man.  Your lines are biting.  I like you best.

YOUNG WOMAN

My girlfriends said it was my lucky day.

            (The other PUPILS seethe in their envy.)

            END OF EPILOGUE.

            END OF “THE TRIAL OF WESTWARD HO.”

 

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XVIII"

THE FOOL

---ruling.

THE POPE

Hold tight to your articles!  Here is my opinion.  Westward, thou didst wrong.  It matters not the intent.  Thou hast offended thy mother---and, possibly, thy sister---over a thing that signifieth naught.  To repeat, art signifieth naught.

            (MR. BALDHAWK, attorney for MRS. HO, stands up.)

MR. BALDHAWK

What is his punishment?

THE POPE

Forsooth, he mustn’t burn.  Let us take the thing that he loveth---

MR. BALDHAWK

His blog?

THE POPE

Aye.  Take it and give it to his mother.  Enough!  I near to die.  Requiem in pace!  Benedicte!

            (He leaves in a flurry of cardinals, bastards, and fools.  The crowd starts to
            leave.  MR. BALDHAWK stops to address MRS. HO.)

MR. BALDHAWK

May I buy you dinner?

            (MRS. HO looks for a count of three, then deliberately---viciously---turns her
            back.)

                  MR. BALDHAWK (Continued)

Song?

            (MR. BALDHAWK, beside himself, makes to leave.  His busy hands mutilate
            what is left of his hair.  WESTWARD addresses MRS. HO.)

WESTWARD

Mother.  Will you close “Plays:  Short and Strange”?  Will you close the blog?

MRS. HO

It costs me nothing to leave it open.  I am a businesswoman.

WESTWARD

May I still write for it?

MRS. HO

Of course not, my boy.

WESTWARD

            (After a pause)
Shall I gather my belongings and move out?

MRS. HO

No, my son.  I am almost at an end of being angry.
            (Pause)
I very nearly made a mistake.  But I did not make it.

            (MRS. HO goes out a different way than MR. BALDHAWK.  WESTWARD
            stands in the fading light of the empty courtroom, then follows her.)

            END OF PART XVIII.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XVII"

            (THE FOOL, yet again, prods the sleeping POPE.)

THE POPE

Stop that, thou idiot!  I am the Pope!  Now, to my ruling.

            (He shuffles through sheets of foolscap.)

                   THE POPE (Continued)

The case is simple---simple?---am I right?  A young man wrote some manuscripts---plays---about members of his family, about his sister and mother.  He also, if I be not mistaken, wrote in the names of his sister and mother, as if claiming their authorship.  But what is authorship?  Who wrote the Letter to the Hebrews?  ’Tis a comely letter---

THE FOOL

            (Admonishing)
Popey-poo.

THE POPE

In conclusion, I like not this era.  I wish we were in the wilderness, and I---your Moses---could stone ye for gathering sticks.  But, alas, here I am; and I must rule.  Thus saith your Renaissance Pope . . .

            (A mild tremor.  The crowd reacts.)

                 THE POPE (Continued)

What shaketh the ground?

THE FOOL

As if nature herself were trying to stall your---

            END OF PART XVII.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XVI"

THE POPE

In closing, I wonder at my having been summoned---summoned?---from the dead---from the dead?  It striketh me mysterious that I should be called to rule on such hobgoblins as internets, or whatso ye call them.  This ordeal speaketh, methinks, to a longing for truth---as though the past held more of that commodity.  Ask my nephews or sons.  I am old---so old that, in the meanderings of my Renaissance mind, I do sometimes reach transport to another epoch.  I used to think these instances of divine revelation.  But, I doubt now but that they are wadings through the forests of time.  At my age . . . Renaissance, Rome, hunting and . . .

            (He falls asleep.  His FOOL pokes him.)

                 THE POPE (Continued)

What then?

THE FOOL

The peasants await your ruling.

THE POPE

So they do.  Romulus and Remus.  So they do.

            (His eyelids droop.)

            END OF PART XVI.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XV"

            (The courtroom.  Its clean white 21^st Century walls are made baroque by a
            malfunctioning fluorescent.  The gallery is filled with red cardinals.  Cut-outs
            of Mrs. Ho were ordered but did not arrive.  All are waiting, waiting.  MR.
            BALDHAWK stands on the side of the plaintiff.  WESTWARD HO stands on
            the side of the defense.  Perhaps THE POSTMAN is his lawyer.  He stands
            near WESTWARD.)

            (The other members of the Ho family are conspicuously absent.  SUNNY is at the
            hotel.  She sits poolside and reads her book so loudly that, perhaps, she can be
            heard even here.  SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND enters.  He scans the room for his
            wife.  WESTWARD looks at him.  SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND avoids either side.)

              (MRS. HO appears.  She has been through a war.  Her eyes are tireder than
            before.  But her lipstick and headscarf are red like the cardinals.  She has not
            shone so bright since her husband’s death.  MR. BALDHAWK turns to her, then
            turns away.  He makes no motion for her to join him, but she knows what he
            means.  She decides to sit in the back.  She tries to get SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND
            to acknowledge her, but he leaves to find his wife.  Without seeing, WESTWARD
            knows that his mother is in the courtroom.)

            (Oyez oyez.  The BAILIFF comes out of a closet with his giant stick and bangs it
            thrice on the ground.  MRS. HO shudders involuntarily.  WESTWARD closes his
            eyes.  SUNNY loses her place.  MR. BALDHAWK chokes lightly.)

            END OF PART XV.