Traumsformation

The backdrop is a bright light from a projector, with water being poured on it to create a shimmering effect. YR and DINAH enter from stage left, holding hands. The SHOWMAN, dressed in a boatman’s hat and a red-and-white pinstripe suit, enters from stage right to greet them. Right behind him is a MIDGET dressed like a swan, and shuffling angrily, shedding little white feathers as he moves.

SHOWMAN

Welcome! Welcome! Oh, so good you could grace my graceful banks with your joint presence of excellent wonder! So, you’re here to break up, am I correct?

MIDGET begins trying to stick his hands into the SHOWMAN’s pocket, but the SHOWMAN swats him away without looking at him.

SHOWMAN

Your only price of admission – [to MIDGET] Stop that now! – your only price is that you tell me how it feels! And be really descriptive! Is it like cables being wrenched out of your head? Cords pulled out and lights shutting off? Half your person torn away and black piranhas of death stalking the contours of your self-image? Hm?

The MIDGET sticks his hands inside YR’s pockets, and pulls out a fistful of olive leaves. He throws these away in disgust and goes back to trying to get in the SHOWMAN’s pockets.

SHOWMAN

Well, tell me, how does it feel? Don’t you have anything to say, Dinah Washington?

DINAH pulls out a pistol and waves it around in the air wildly

DINAH

King Kong! Ain’t got nothin! On me!

SHOWMAN

Can I suggest that the author might lack a certain familiarity with classic jazz music?

Canned sitcom laughter plays, as all four actors hold hands and bow towards the audience. The laughter blends into polite applause as the lights fall.

The FOREMAN enters from stage left carrying a backdrop of the Grand Canyon (it appears to be a blown-up postcard with the words “Grand Canyon” crudely covered with spray-paint reading “The Dessert of the Reel”). He sets the backdrop down, exits stage left, then returns carrying a bag of seed and a couple plastic olive trees. He places the trees down, sprinkles some seed on the ground, then exits stage left again. Again he returns, this time carrying a billboard (almost too big to carry) reading “10% Off All Wonderbras” with an image of a lingerie model. He sets this down, then stares at it intently. Then, the FOREMAN begins to look around at his feet and feel around in his pockets, as though missing something.

YR, a backpack over his shoulders, enters from stage right, and walks up to the FOREMAN, extending a microphone. The FOREMAN shakes his head “no.” YR moves the backpack to his front, and puts the microphone in it. He pulls out a crumbled Panama hat and offers this to the FOREMAN. The FOREMAN snatches it eagerly and puts it on his head with a smile. He then gestures intently for YR to give him something else. After a little bit of shuffling around inside the bag, YR produces a pair of aviator sunglasses. The FOREMAN dons these with gusto, beaming in pleasure. He adjusts the glasses and hat, then turns to YR.

FOREMAN

Now, get to work! Get to work! Pick those olives!

YR gets down on his hands and knees and begins pulling leaves off the plastic olive trees and putting them in his pockets.

FOREMAN

That’s it, work hard you fucking Christian! Just because they’re still dancing when the sun rises doesn’t mean they’re dancing for the sun! The frog isn’t croaking after his own image, you jackass!

YR is trying to eat the olive leaves, and the FOREMAN is staring at Wonderbra ad and rubbing his crotch as the lights slowly drop.

Full lights up. Fake snow is blowing in the air, and lying on the ground. YC is mounted on a snowmobile. A play of lights behind him creates the unconvincing impression that he is moving. The sounds of rushing through the open outdoors can be heard on the sound system: blowing winds, cars passing by, everything except for the sound of the snowmobile’s motor, which is provided by YC himself, making child-like vvvrrrrooom sounds with his mouth and lips.

Five CLASSMATES enter from stage left. They are holding pieces of cardboard scenery: fake brown rocks suggesting a cave. They enter with their feet hidden by the scenery they hold, pretending they are sitting rather than walking, playing along with the impression that it is YC, not them, who is moving. YC “stops” his snowmobile, and dismounts, walking in the direction of the now-still cave-dwellers. He enters the “cave,” the scenery now standing on its own.

CLASSMATE 1

Hey, look guys! It’s Sean!

CLASSMATE 2

What are you, retarded? That’s Mark, from high school!

CLASSMATE 3

Well, it’s someone! Hey! How’s it going? Want some sourdough, buddy?

YC takes some of the bread CLASSMATE 3 offers him. When he puts it in his mouth, all CLASSMATES cheer.

CLASSMATE 4

Alright! Say, how you been! You must be tired, cause you’ve been gone so long!

CLASSMATE 2

Don’t you know anything, you fucking retard? It’s not him’s been gone long, it’s us! He’s been right here, and we’ve been elsewhere! Fuck!

CLASSMATE 5

Well where we been then?

CLASSMATE 1

Yeah, buddy, where we been? English class finished ages ago!

CLASSMATE 3

Yeah! Fucking teachers, amirite?

CLASSMATE 4

Hell’s yeah!

CLASSMATES 3 and 4 high-five.

CLASSMATE 5

No, but wait a minute. If he’s been here, and we’ve been gone, then how do you know we’re here now? Look, he doesn’t have a backpack on him, so where’s he carrying us?

CLASSMATE 1

He’s not carrying us, stupid, cause he left us here!

CLASSMATE 2

Well, what the fuck is here? It’s a fucking bear cave, isn’t it? That’s fucked! Why would he do that?

CLASSMATE 3

Hey, easy, he’s our buddy! You think he wants to deal with our shit all the time? High school was heavy, man! Intense mental shit, you know? Can you blame him for leaving us down here?

CLASSMATE 5

What I want to know is, how come he gets to be here, and not me. Why can’t I be here, and visit him whenever I want?

CLASSMATE 2

I know why! It’s cause you gave him the bread! That’s like the fucking eucharist, you retards! You invested him with the holy agency of the narrator, the one spirit who interprets! Fuck! Give me that fucking narrative eucharist bread!

CLASSMATE 3

No fucking way! I’m eating it all first!

CLASSMATE 1

No! I want it!

All five CLASSMATES begin shouting at each other and fighting over the loaf of bread, tearing it apart, and pushing each other before anyone can put a piece in their mouths. YC stands still and watches all this.

A BEAR (a man in a bear suit, walking upright) enters stage left, carrying a fire hose. Everyone stops fighting and stares at the BEAR in terror. The BEAR turns on the hose, and it sprays torrents of deep-red fake blood. The blood splatters all over everyone. As YC and the five red-stained CLASSMATES scream and moan in absolute pain and terror, Mozart’s “Lacrimosa” Requiem plays very loudly. Lights fall on this scene.

Full lights. Autumn leaves fall from overhead. A live ostrich is standing in the middle of the stage doing whatever it is an ostrich would do in the middle of a stage. Two REPORTERS enter, wearing full green body suits beneath their pinstriped sport coats and black fedoras.

REPORTER 1 [to ostrich]

Hey! A quick word for the press, a quick word! Can you tell us about your relationship with Emma Roberts? Come on! You popped the question to her?

REPORTER 2

Hey, lay off, will ya? This is my beat! Sir, sir, excuse me, sir. [to the ostrich] Do you feel that self is like one of these slowly falling leaves, unpredictably adrift in the unknowable winds of the real? Or do you feel identity is like a solid oak tree, rigid and unchangeable, only able to drop temporary fragments of freedom that wither immediately? Which one, huh, come on! Answer, will yah?

A TRAINER enters and leads the ostrich off to stage right.

REPORTER 1

Come on. One word! One word! Will my mutual funds mature and does my wife still love me, hey!

The two REPORTERS jostle each other as they try to chase after the retreated bird. REPORTER 1 trips on a heavy book that is laying on the ground, then REPORTER 2 trips over his companion. The both lie on their backs in defeat.

REPORTER 2

God damned book!

Lights fall.

A spotlight opens on centre stage. YC is in bed, fedora on, tossing and tuning restlessly. A snowmobile is next to the bed. He thrown off the covers to reveal he is naked, except for the hat. His eyes open wide as he stares, in shock at a spot off to stage left. A light goes up on stage left, revealing three naked women, crucified. YC screams in terror, as a pulsating italo disco beat opens up on the sound system. YC jumps on the snowmobile. All lights go down, as the disco beat is replaced by the sound of a small engine revving off into the distance.

Dramatic low lighting rises in a small truck-stop. BESSY is behind the counter, cutting a pie. TEDDY is talking to her.

TEDDY

We’ll get out of here fast, Bessy, don’t you worry! Once we pull off the gas price shuffle, Union Trucking will be none the wiser! I’ll use my stolen money to buy my rig from the company, tell ‘em an eccentric aunt sparked me the dough, and then we’ll drive ol’ Shirley all the way down to Californee, whaddya say, huh?

BESSY

Do you want a side of ice cream with your pie, Teddy?

TEDDY

Well, come on, Bessy, whaddya say, huh? I love you, don’t you know that?

BESSY

Easy honey, don’t overheat your engine in here. You know you’re good for me, Teddy. That’s I why I stick with you, you’re good for me. But if we’re gonna bilk, we gotta bilk big time before we take off.

TEDDY

But, Bessy, I can’t stand to see you hanging around workin’ this old truck stop in the middle of the winter any longer! Every old trucker comes in here thinks you’re his gal, but you’re mine, and I want ‘em all to know it.

BESSY

That’s right, Teddy. Or, I will be. That is, if you do something for me. You see, Rocky’s been causing me troubles…

TEDDY

So it’s Rocky, is it?

ROCKY enters through a false door at centre stage.

ROCKY

So it’s me, is it?

A brief crash of Bernard Hermann-style 50’s-thriller music. ROCKY pulls out his gun and paces towards TEDDY

ROCKY

Well, what’s the matter? Surprised to see me? Don’t you know I pass through here on the Edmonton-Toronto route, the same time you’re stopping over on the Fargo-Fort Mac? Huh? Don’t ya?

BESSY

Aw, leave the kid alone, Rocko.

ROCKY

Bessy, make me some cereal! Yeah, that’s right. You know, I once had cereal at a designer restaurant in New York City. You two wouldn’t know nothin’ about New York City. They bring out the cereal, with five different kinds of milk, and put it on the table, see? Waiter wearing a tux and everything. He asks you what kind of milk you want, and I say, “the yak milk!” you hear? And he pours it into this spoon, and just one spoonful at a time, makes this little wrist-flicking motion that scatters the yak milk all evenly out over the cereal, like a light spring time rain. Understand!? Bess, you think you could do that wrist flicking thing with the milk?

BESSY

Come on, Rocko.

ROCKY

Shut up! You couldn’t! Cause you ain’t like they like in New York! The lights there ain’t like lights here! Yeah, all lights got secrets, even the flickering neon outside this here truck stop but that lights got more. More people seen ‘em, you know? The more collectively held a secret is, the more it vibrates with truth!

TEDDY pulls out a gun.

TEDDY

Don’t you talk to Bessy like that!

BESSY

Teddy, don’t, he’ll kill you!

TEDDY

Well, someone will kill someone tonight, that’s for damn sure!

YC, still wearing his fedora, enters from stage left and walks into the stand-off.

ROCKY [To YC]

Aw, so it’s you, is it? Well, how ‘bout it! Do you see truth as anything more than the illusion shared by the most minds? Answer me, damnit!

TEDDY [Shouting at YC]

It’s cold out there! The moose’s antlers are picturesquely heavy with snow!

YC turns around, and runs back out stage left.

BESSY

Don’t let him get away! His secrets are worth more than mine!

ROCKY

Quick, you guys! He’s headed for the snowmobile! After him!

All three Exuent stage right. Lights down.

A spotlight opens on YR, wearing a fedora with a press ticket in it, slowly walking out of stage right. A distant murmur can be heard. As YR approaches centre stage the murmur rises in volume, resolving itself into the raucous cheering of a noisy sports arena. As YR reaches centre stage, the lights go up on a bench of Japanese hockey players, COACH ICHIZURO pacing militarily behind them. YR places a tape recorder to ICHIZURO’s mouth.

ICHIZURO

Line combinations must be studied, like ocean temperatures, to determine future course. Mizoguchi go! Go! Gambatte!

One of the players, MIZOGUCHI, stands up and walks off in the direction of stage left.

ICHIZURO

Defeating Canadian hockey team is not a possibility, but the effort is a necessity. War must be won in the dreaming mind before it can be won on the battlefield. If you do not know your enemies, but know yourself, you will win one battle and lose one. Shishima, go! Gambatte!

Another player rises, heads towards stage left.

ICHIZURO

One must be without ascertainable shape. Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Remember, music is words whittled down to nothing. Thoughts are man whittled down to a gentle breeze.

ICHIZURO then stares directly at YR and laughs in his face.

ICHIZURO

Pretend inferiority and encourage arrogance! Accept the terror, if there is no third option fielded, beyond life and death. It was the German people, who were responsible for the greatest horrors of the Second World War. Do not allow culture to soften and make kitten of the tiger of cultural memory. Wear the albatross, it is punishment for your birth in the last century. You must meditate on the atrocities of the Nazis. Picture the Holocaust through the eyes of a tree. Only by accepting the truth of this terror will you ever attain victory.

The crowd begins to cheer loudly, as though a goal was scored. MIZOGUCHI, the first player to leave the bench, returns to centre stage, suspended in the air by invisible wires. He performs slow, silent pirouettes above ICHIZURO and YR’s heads. The crowd’s roar softens into polite applause as the hockey player spins suspended. The lights slowly drop.