"What a joy to know where one is, and where one will stay, without being there. Nothing to do but stretch out comfortably on the rack, in the blissful knowledge you are nobody for all eternity. A pity I should have to give tongue at the same time, it prevents it from bleeding in peace, licking the lips."

The Unnamable by Samuel Beckett (1956)

Here, in the Shade

He runs a finger across her waxy, frigid smile.

Cold, yes, and just as biting.

Didn’t they ever warn you

child who plays in the woods? There are

bad things in there

things that will chase you eat you kill you

little girls little whores who don’t listen to their mothers

you think I don’t know

never knew what it felt to be a mother the

warm, soft dependency. Another being hopelessly

attached to you

wrapped in you bonded to you sacred and whole like

God’s love. Waiting for you

every morning before the dawn I’d 

wait for you here, in the shade

On us the rain bleeds, we’d huddle in the dingy dark

sink into the rotting leaves. Make ourselves invisible

Like spires beneath the earth, pushing up and up

teeth from beneath from hell biting

breaking the skin of heaven, drawing thick swells of air

we’d be gasping by the end of it

drenched in sweat like dogs like

God’s love. Waiting for you

every summer before the moon I’d

wait for you here, in the shade

Nothing cleans now nothing breaks this dingy dark 

I am cold, yes, and just as biting

as she was when we first met those 

eyes that loved me feared me hungered me

are pools of glass now frozen

skin that warmed me

burned & fed me cannot tremble at my touch

see? I can kiss you give you now my love

God’s love. little whores who don’t

listen to their fathers you think I didn’t know

don’t know what it felt like to be wasted

wanted. Hunted like an animal loved like a 

spire, I sink my teeth into your thigh 

you don’t move or scream just lay there

with a cold, soft dependency. Hopelessly

attached to me

wrapped in me bonded to me sacred and whole. Like

God’s love.

The Devil's Grievances

Voice Shift Assignment

THE DEVIL'S GRIEVANCES

Jessica Tracy

Dramatic Storytelling:

From Dialogue to Dialogic

Lisa Leaverton

AD-464 M

College of the Atlantic

Jessica Tracy

College of the Atlantic

105 Eden Street

Bar Harbor, ME

Edinburgh, Scotland. 1656. 

Told in the comedic style of a Punch and Judy show, puppets optional.

Characters

(D:)Doctor Paulitious

(Boy)Bread-seller's Son

1. Doctor Paulitious walks slowly across the stage, cane thumping in time with his words. He is cloaked in layers of tattered brown fabric, spotted with questionable stains. His hands and head are shielded by gloves and a mask shaped from heavy leather, studded with silver clasps. His unseen face is distorted by the frightening beak of a plague doctor’s mask, giving him an almost comical appearance if his job were not so terrible. 

II. Light focuses both on the Doctor and The third booth, made of hacked-together lumber painted a worn-looking red. There are two crates in front of the stand, one turned on its side displaying loaves of bread, sweet rolls, and various mystical-looking trinkets. A young man leans against the crate eagerly chatting with 

Doctor: Sick.

D: Sick.

[At stage right there are some booths were people are buying and selling various goods. At seeing the plague doctor most go quiet, but the haggling still continues in some corners.]

D: Sick. [he wheezes a cough which causes many to depart, flocking from the stage. Only a few shopkeepers remain, who stare at the doctor with grumbled contempt. The plague doctor stops at the first booth, where a young man is selling bread and pocket various charmed ornaments and talismans.]

Boy: Those were paying customers, you know. Every time..I was this close.

D: I..apologize. Have you--

Boy: She’s beautiful, isn’t she?

D: ...Who?

Boy: Her! Jesus, you ain’t blind, yet, right? The girl your beak face scared away. 

D: [pauses]

D: Have you the bread?

Boy: Oh, bread. Yes. One peice a loaf.

D: Fine, fine. I’ve got nine. 

Boy: Three, then.

D: [voice raises slightly in grievance]You’ve just raised it trifold!

[pauses]I refuse. One is one, and this is one. One for this, no more, no less. 

Boy: Aw, come now, Doctor. Don’t think death clouds your heavy pockets. You’ve silver fixtures on a that hideous mask, I’m not as blind as you.

D: They’re for the spirits, silver repels--

Boy: Repels customers, that’s what you do. Had two ladies here fixing to buy two pans of rolls until your sorry cough sent ‘em away. Surely, you can spare a couple of bucks to give charity, at least.

D:...Who’s Charity?

Boy: Me girlfriend. It’s her birthday, see, and I haven’t gotten ‘er a present.

D: You’ve got bread.

Boy: A lady don’t want bread. ‘Sides, she’s the baker’s daughter so I think she’s enough bread as it is. 

D: What...have I got to do with this Charity girl…? [coughs again, almost threateningly causing the other shopkeepers to flinch.]

Boy: ‘Ey, you watch who you’re calling a girl, you dingy old bat. I’d be smart to raise it four with a mouth like yours!

D: Ah--! Better watch the clouds, child. The gods look stormy. You’ll bargain the daylight rays keeping on like this. 

Boy: Yes, and your nice hat will get all damp and smell of skin. 

D: Your bread soggy... 

Boy: a nice vase of roses-- 

D: Best settle for daisies. 

Boy: You’ve no heart, death. 

D: Was that thunder?

Boy: Two and a half and you’ll have your bread! [snarls] If not roses, I’ll ‘ave a warm bed at least.

D: [hands him the money] I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You have forgotten her birthday and all…[voice rises slightly in excitement, seemingly on a roll] Your..friend was ...she the baker’s daughter?

Boy: Mmmhm. [a trickle of young women walk by, his eyes follow them wolfishly] What of it?

D: That one... over there? With the pretty eyes? [pointing offstage]

Boy: Yeah, that’s ‘er. 

D: [begins to walk away, bread in hand. Many of the other shopkeepers, seeing the rain clouds, have packed up and left. Only the bread-seller and the plague doctor remain on stage.] My...dearest sympathies.

Boy: What? She’s gorgeous! 

D: Hmmm, pretty indeed. Taken, I fear...

Boy: What, Doctor, are you telling me she’s betrothed?!

D:...in a way.

Boy: [exasperated, running a hand through his hair as if he knew it to be so already] Oh, god! That lying bitch! [comes out from behind the counter to sit on a bench, head in hands]

Boy: It’s one of the O'Reilly boys, isn’t it? The tall, older one? 

D: ...No. No. [sits down beside him on the bench, the boy edges a bit away, as if he smells bad. The doctor stares straight ahead, not noticing.]

Boy: The blacksmith’s son? With the drinking problem?

  

D: No! I mean Death, you fool! She’s cursed, fated! Marked with the plague.

Boy:[darkly] Well now you tell me. Could ‘a said something last week before I bought that larkey broach for ‘er. She had to have copper, the thing nearly cost me my left tooth. 

D: [clobs him over the head with a club] Oh, you--! [hits him again in the head with a club] 

Boy is beneath the stage now. The stage is silent for a moment before PRETTY CHARITY pops up, coming to the Bread-seller's booth gesturing she’d like to buy a loaf. D looks rather stiff (stunned, but there’s a mask there) and slowly hands her a loaf without saying anything]

PRETTY POLLY: [annoyed and a bit off-put] How many pieces, then? 

D: Three.

PRETTY POLLY: That’s bats if you ask me. 

Fin