Act 17-22 Back Button


CLOSING SCENE: Snatching Swarmer


[The scene opens to the darkness of a theatre; Haliwt and Romantic Man are crouched on the floor between a row of empty seats. The only light is a sliver glimmering from the outside area of a theatre entrance door intentionally left open. Haliwt is whispering urgently to Romantic Man.]


Haliwt: (Whisper) “What’s better?! A 6 foot, 200 lbs, 32 year old male with the US Army trying to tackle them or a 100 lb woman old enough to be mother taking them down, for sure? An alternative might result a death of Swarmer too. He’s a murderer but it’s not for me to do sentencing. We cannot do nothing: unless you know a superior plan without guns or bombs, one that works right now?”


Romantic Man: (Whisper) “I have a gun.”


Haliwt: (Whisper) “NO. You can help by running away, RoMan. Running RoMan; they will chase you but they’ll never get close, right? Take cover under the stage and they won’t even see you. If it’s noticed you’re here with a gun, someone else will pull out a gun and then it’s a Crap shoot for sure. Weasel has a gun: the Dean’s STAFF no doubt have guns. The problem for guns—like excuses—is when everybody got one. And if you’ve got a gun, the safest place for you to be is under the stage, hiding.”


Romantic Man: (Whisper) “What if they don’t fall down? Gun?”


Haliwt: (Whisper) “NO. The hooks on these seats are very secure; La Perla! Those hooks could hold up a tree trunk. If it looks like one of them is going to shoot me? NO GUN.”


Romantic Man: (Whisper) “Has this hook thing worked before?”


Haliwt: (Whisper) “Lemone Naval Air Station; you know, “Ba ba ba Bennie and The Jets... She’s got electric boobs (Haliwt grabs her breasts) a hairpin too, you know I read it in a magazine, ooh! Ba ba…” 


HOP to JETS Origins of SOAP


Romantic Man: (Whisper) “But life is not a musical.”


[On the row of seats behind where Haliwt and RoMan are hiding, the outer most legs on the two seats closest to that auditorium aisle are fixed with a woman’s elastic garter belt hook straps; the small metallic hooks of the elastic strips grasp the two ends of a sheer tan stocking strung low and taut across the aisle.]


Haliwt: (Whisper) “After I toss this sweet potato over there (Haliwt tilts her head to the far right of where she and RoMan are hidden), you stand up and start running down the aisle here, ahead of the trip wire. One of them will no doubt go to the direction of where potato hits, because of the sound. Whose fault is this? Other than not mine: you got me into this! Wait five seconds after the toss, then Run RoMan, run for your life. Get it?” 


[Romantic Man stares at Haliwt with incredulous shock.]


Romantic Man: (Whisper) “Me? You said WE. WE have to apprehend them; I thought you meant me and you, you and me.”


[Haliwt puts her hand to Romantic Man’s cheek.]


Haliwt: (Whisper) “It’s now Weasel’s job. He said he’s somewhere outside the back door? But not if guns are blasting off in here. And we have apprehended: we’ve assisted as lawful, able-bodied citizens. Let’s not overstay our welcome. Weasel won’t try to do anything but let them run away. The objective is Snatching Swarmer: he’ll arrest Swarmer if he is still alive; without him to blame, STAFF won’t be as brazen. It’s not a movie.”


Haliwt: (Whisper) “The other two are going to see you running and why wouldn’t they chase after you? They hit the wire: bad trip. The last one will either run down this direction to see what felled them or he’ll run back out the top door. Most likely, he’ll bail out the back but he won’t try to take Swarmer with by himself ? It’s not like I trust you wouldn’t accidently try to shoot me at this point, RoMan. Do you really totally trust Weasel or Officer Monster Brow? His patrol was Jewel Cove.”


[RoMan avoids looking at Haliwt’s face as she stares intently or near belligerently at his eyes. For a few seconds, he appears to consider his own private options. Suddenly, a man speaks out from the back of the dark auditorium.]


Gary: “Hey, Larry. The door’s open.”


Larry: “Right. It’s a set-up not an up-set.”


[Gary snickers and jabs Larry in the ribs.]


Larry: “I don’t think it’s really a movie.”


Gary: “Just try NOT to think about it.”


Larry: “Gawd.”


[Larry pops open a tripod stand while Gary fiddles with a camcorder. After minor fussing, the two are satisfied and exit out the same back door. Haliwt and RoMan quickly look up over the seats towards the tripod: the tiny red dot of a camcorder light menacingly blinks back at them through the somber space of the theatre. Haliwt grabs one of his arms with impetuous angst.]


Haliwt: (Whisper) “That sweet potato is dinner; now what? I’m hungry and it’s just a bad ‘B’ movie? NO. Let’s leave. Professor Bill Bickle Sam Swarmer is a creep: he’s a murderer. I’m leaving.”


[Romantic Man slightly raises both his hands to open out around the tight space between himself and Haliwt; he exhales an exasperated grunt like breath.]


Haliwt: (Whisper) “He attacked innocent rabbits. Food, sex, sleep wonderful rabbits. I don’t even want to see a demonic, hideously ugly man in a straight-jacket. And I don’t want to see a fine man run, RoMan. It’s dangerous.”


[Romantic Man smiles and snickers as he mock jabs his elbow towards her ribs.]


Haliwt: (Whisper) “I’m leaving out the trap door: leaving well enough alone while there’s a chance to avoid their criminally insane commotion.”


Romantic Man: (Whisper) “Sure, ME TOO. It’s the best plot yet.”


[After paying close attention to staying ahead of the trip wire left alone for those of lesser opportunity, Haliwt and Romantic Man hunker low down the aisle towards the stage. They smile at each other face to face, and then hug at the trap door as the theatre scene fades out to open to a rabbit standing at the edge of a forested area.]


RaSha Closing Scene

The rabbit hops out of a tangle of bush and brush onto a dirt trail leading to a clearing high above the Pacific Ocean. Haliwt and RoMan are sitting on foliage ground near to the sounds of crashing waves. She is perched on her knees as he lounges the sunshine and the tiny rabbit notices afar.


Haliwt: “What IT is, what is IT: IT can better than Bazooka double-bubble. A black hole can form inside a blown out black hole. And then IT does try to collapse everyday. IT does not seem to realize sustenance: IT cannot collapse because TIME is only the method of calculating physical development; physical development is real stuff. FLAME, SMOKE, SMOKE and FLAME. But the fuss for failing can cause a black hole to form inside an inside turned out black hole which is…”


Haliwt: “Like a stain glass color violent kaleidoscope spot, sunspot—a shadow—extended from a sliver hole of light: there’s a trap door, a way in through the hole. Inside? It’s brilliant endless light that is only a single, stardust tit... Anatonical Protonical. Light everywhere but nowhere at all. The realization is of being shrunk or shrinked.”


[Haliwt gasps with a wonderful rapturous breath; her eyes are lustrously moist from her teary reflection of sunlight.]


Haliwt: “Just thinking about IT causes a fever: and 1 trillion tornadoes, 2 billion quakes, 3 million tidal waves thrashing, 400,000 tsunamis crashing, 500 Hundred Thousand bolts of 500,000 watt lightening. THE FUN can never end... I’ve tracked IT all the way to where IT got a start: to a position impossible for further figuring. What can or could END IT? Nothing: IT is already NOTHING. I cannot figure an end to IT. IT is before/beyond/behind me. I do not know if IT can understand me: do you?”


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