The Other Night, Act I

Characters:

Clown and his roommates, Klein, Snow, Rivers, and Wilson.

Mandolin, a girl and certainly not a type

Referee

perhaps some others, I haven't really decided yet

ACT I: In an apartment

Clo: Too long! Too long it runs, this rail of life

‘Ere it spans the length of man’s vision

And leaves us but to struggle all our days

To stand, and nay, to walk toward that vast

And inconceivable horizon, faith,

And all the while upon our wretched toes

For great its length and small its breadth on which

We each struggle, for one step here or there

To left or right is folly, fall, and faint

Toward that fog, where imbalance doth cloud

Our sight, deepen our hearts, and damp and dam

Progress, for which all man must strive and strive[1],

Indeed, there is no rest for those who live.

But what of this fall, can it be so grim?

The great abyss of gross insanity

In one degree or in many, so heats

The convection which bakes for souls habits,

And with habits, characters, and anon
A man is made, with passion, more it seems

That governs all his acts, and takes his choice

Like one, scorn’d and rail’d against since youth[2].

Enter Klein[3]

Kle: O, but that it were true, good jester, that choice were taken and mankind, as well as womankind, were left to follow the whims of those who seek their better happiness.

Clo: Now Klein, thou seems a bit crescent-fallen[4],

But whatever doth put thy mind in sorts,

For truth, could not be naught but can be so

Fix’d by thy warm, utilitarian

Nature, and by and by no longer stain

Thy bright and most expensive countenance.[5]

Kle: I am but crest-fallen, for so many a maiden practices enjoyment whilst in my company and yet turns away the greater reward when it comes due time.

Clo: And this reward, I cannot guess, for life

Hath made of thee the master of their hearts,

Not I, and so wouldst thou, in more, detail

The manner of this great offense thou suff’rst?

Kle: Ay, in more detail. Perhaps my longest and happiest friend will assist in the telling of the tale. Come, Ludovicio[6], for thou art the tool of tales in which I sorrow and rejoice. Give but a moment to attune my melancholy to its strings of fortune.

Clo: Thine instrument, a name? Average sir,

By thy label[7] I think tis thy brother.

Kle: More of a brother than can be asked for among such base folk as we are.

[Singing]

“She hid her face from me on the front porch,

And gave her love, burning like a torch,

A dousing of cold water and shoulders

And gave no action, so I told her

Off!”[8]

Enter Snow[9]

Sno: What racket, what racket! Silly jester, doth thou again prod him to his vain caterwaulings? Oft have his ugly verses disturbed my solitutde.

Kle: Back to thy gaming, dark spider. Speak not of vanity, I am in lament.

Clo: Would I destroy tradition for thy sake?

But use thy strengths, indeed, thy strength of noise,

And drown this wrench amidst the cries and clangs

Of never-ending battle, fantastic

It may be, more genuine than we,

At least to thee, and all thy friends abroad.

Sno: Would that it were so and you all were but imaginations of my lesser existence and I could but dismiss with you a thought. No matter, your advice is sound and I retire with increased volume that yours may be decreased.

Exeunt Snow

Kle: With little sympathy ever I regard him. Shall I resume?

[Singing]

“She gave not lip nor tongue,

So I felt I was stung,

By a great bee of disappointment…”

Clo: I pray, hold thy rantings for but a while,

For how wilt thou be beck’nd by that device

Which makes its home in thy outworldish pants

And governs thy life moreso than it seems

Than thy feminine equals of whom

You so lament the existence of here,

For methinks she calls upon thee soon

To rectify this base and sordid choice

To be rid of this, your most esteemed company.

Kle: Nay, twill make no matter, for it is on vibrate. Thy sentiments are most keen, jester, but I think not that they are remedy to my woe begotten state. Only the mirth of Ludovicio’s and my own voice combined can repair the wrongs of the universe.

Clo: [Aside] Repair, so true, for you to use such text.

Alas, here comes Rivers to join my cause.

Enter Rivers[10]

Riv: Mine ears were touched again by the sorrowful song of our perpetually sad roommate ‘ere I entered thus. I wonder, are thy lyrics truly of thy heart, or do they speak from another’s?

Kle: Simple man, you question my originality? ‘Tis worthy of a sound slapping of thy spectacles across yonder filthy[11] tiles!

Riv: Forgive me, they but sounded so much alike the sounds that play upon the radio these days. Doth the Fray or Nickleback[12] inspire thee?

Kle: What base accusation is this!? I seek not the lyrics of others when I am seeking the muse of my soul, and especially not such poppish and universally disliked bands of amateurs!

Clo: Heaven forbid, the lads and girls of note

Should discover such ugly truths in him.

Riv: Then it is Backstreet boys?

Kle: Social insect, you buzz too much!

Riv: I hear they may yet return, or so is rumored upon the net.

Kle: I believe you not, but if such is truth, I must be privy to such a disaster.

Exeunt Klein, probably to go check his computer for updates on various Boy Bands.

Clo: O what wisdom doth shine from your large head,

Most studious and ardent man of books.

By your sagacity he is retired,

And we are left to ponder life in peace.

Riv: My wisdom is heavily sought for and rightly earned. Pray, fool[13], have you yet given thought to your studies.

Clo: I thought of them, yes, but the thought troubled

Me so greatly, for thoughts would gather more,

And with study the very thought of thought

Compounds upon my poor, imbecile brain.

I imagine you thought upon yours too.

Riv: No, not thought, but acted. Silly fool, you cheaply sell that which would ever remain to strengthen thy character. Today we studied vice, and one of its greatest uglinesses is sloth. I thought of thee today as I studied such.

Clo: Didst thou study as well the sin of av’rice?

Or perhaps that most universal one,

Of which I shan’t name here, but only hint

Remains foremost, and marked in front with ‘p’.[14]

Riv: Poverty? Aye, a most heinous crime in my family, and one to which all the world’s fools are bound, and all those who actively practice sloth.

Clo: Yet, what is sloth? ‘Tis relevant at best,

For of two men, one who makes highest marks,

And ever thus attends his class and work—

Thus is he rewarded with earliest

Letters of the Latin alphabet[15],

And declared a scholar of words and numbs[16].

And yet, the next of these two men who oft

Skips his class and opts instead for home,

Wherein he cleans and sees to order there

So that his fellows may enjoy the house.[17]

For as the former never thus employs

His art or wit to do that which without

Complaint, the latter thus achieves, then who

Sayest thou, would be the more slothful now?

Riv: Easily, it is the second, for he sought to employ himself in the easier industry.

Clo: Easy, you say? Then why did he not make

Time for such a selfless, simple task yet,

I say for him, and even in defense,

The schooling is more easily obtained,

For he is practiced more in this than base

And menial tasks which he finds too hard.

Else why would he refuse to lend a hand?

Riv: I have not time for your riddles, fool. I must retire to review the day’s intake of sacred learnings, both secular and otherwise.

Exeunt Rivers

Clo: Indeed, he missed the greater moral here,

And being thus refuted from his claim

Of knowledge invulnerable, he runs

Perhaps to ponder such a riddle more.

For sloth is never as it seems but is

More of a matter of priorities.

For River, books; for Klein, the woman’s lips.

For Snow, his games; for Wilson, food and games.

And for me, the clown of no consequence[18],

All of the above, just in shambled parts.[19]

Enter Wilson

Wil: [Yelling] Come hither, player, come hither all ye players! Snow, Rivers, Klein, it is time for us to depart and take part in that sordid recreation of mannish strength and speed[20]. Come hither, for the other competitors hope for our absence, as ‘tis the only means by which they obtain victory! Come hither, else the battle goes awry and we are left without reason to indulge in foodstuffs for celebration!

Clo: You fit the type too well, Wilson,[21]

And prove my label thus mentioned.

Wil: Prepare yourself, player, for we take on a much greater fiend than your broken iambic. The fiends who deem themselves officials and have yet always robbed me to this day, and I stand before you a broken and ravaged man by their judgment. Perhaps your charisma may sway them to our cause, and see me benefited, for once in eternity.[22]

Re-enter Klein and Rivers, wearing shorts and tennis shoes

Riv: I remembered the event and intend to attend, so leave of your prep-talkings. Let’s get this over with.

Kle: Will there be fans today?

Wil: Fans, indeed. Who cares for such a crowd? And where is Snow, our numbers are short without him.

Clo: And we are short[23], whether or not he comes.

Wil: Speak not this pessimism. I hunger. What leftovers may be had in seconds?

Kle: Take my noodles and spare me the carbs.

Wil: Done. Someone get Snow before I pumble[24] him and let us depart for the gym.

---

[1] Being a play on words, the double meaning being both “putting forth effort,” and in biblical terms “fighting, arguing” (Matt. 12:19, 2 Tim. 2:14, 24)

[2] Being a reference to Satan who takes away agency.

[3] Klein is named after the brand of power tools, he being the quintessential “tool” or player or whatever name you give to one who spends all his faculties (and often in vain) to impress the ladies.

[4] A deliberate twisting of the term, “crest-fallen” referring to the crescent wrench. This will not be the only tool pun from the clown.

[5] Notice how the clown retains a semblance of iambic while no other character does except, as you will see later on, Mandolin, and only she does so as a sort of game with the clown.

[6] I was afraid that to have Klein name his guitar would be playing too much into the stereotype and make him too much of an unlikable character. I ended up leaving it for some reason…

[7] Another tool pun, being a reference to when Klein called the guitar his “tool of tales”

[8] For clarification, the lyrics are deliberately awful

[9] Being named in reference to the popular electronics company, Blizzard, Snow is one of those one-in-ten or so guys that has spent a fortune of time and money on Mass Multiplayer Online Games

[10] A name simply sounding hoity toity smarty-pants, and later discovered to be accidently harmonious with ‘River’ Tam from the series, “Firefly”

[11] All mens’ apartments have filthy floor tiles

[12] In ten years, both of these bands will be completely forgotten

[13] The clown is called something different by each of his roommates—Klein refers to him as the “jester,” Snow calls him the “joker,” Rivers calls him “fool,” and Wilson calls him “player”

[14] “Pride,” in case you didn’t catch that

[15] Aka, good grades

[16] A slightly distasteful slant of the word “numbers”

[17] This latter man certainly describes the author… er, the clown

[18] The first of a few references to the “Man of Little Consequence.” If you need explanation on what that is, check out this blog: regularguylife.blogspot.com

[19] Here is stated, nearly outright, the central motif of the play: balance. The clown represents some semblance of balance whilst his roommates have become slaves to their solitary passions, however noble those passions may be. In this imbalance comes a form of madness which clouds reason and even spirituality, and I believe this was one of Shakespeare’s chief portrayals of madness in all his plays as well

[20] Aka, basketball

[21] This is a sort of “disclaimer” line, somewhat vindicating me for using such obvious stereotypes

[22] Having been an official once myself, I couldn’t resist putting in a plug for the inhumanity by which they are treated

[23] Referring to the stature of the roommates. If they are all indeed patterned after some facet of my life, then they may also reflect my physical stature as well

[24] A word having much history in my family, derived from a 3-year old’s mispronunciation of the word “pummel”