Dramatis Personae
Apuleius, a Romantic.
Lord D–, another Romantic. They might be lovers.
William De G–, who knows? Apparently a third Romantic, but that mysterious cape covers much of his identity.
Randomly Created Just For the Sake of an Ending and Therefore Ultimately Pointless Musician, a musician.
Various Musicians, filler roles for bad actors between food service jobs.
SCENE 1
On top of a hill, early morning. Birds sing from a tree, a dog rests at the base. Apuleius sits opposite, writing in a folio. From the other side of the hill Lord D– enters carrying a cane.
LORD D: You have picked a very beautiful tree under which to write. What are you composing?
APULEIUS: Words, words, words.
LORD D: You know, I think that’s been done before. Your readers would appreciate something a little more original. You do have to think about them, you know.
APULEIUS: I’m not going to worry about them now. I don’t care what they think. What the hell do they know anyway? I’m the artist, not them. If they were so smart, they would be the ones publishing.
LORD D: True enough, vicious rabble. You know, my last book only made it into its seventeenth edition.
APULEIUS: They didn’t understand you. My Notes From Salisbury was stopped after its twelfth. But I think this one here is genius. I’m reflecting on the hedgerows – natural barriers, they are!
LORD D: Nice premise.
APULEIUS: It is impossible that this one is going to fail with the publisher.
LORD D: Your father didn’t particularly like your last book, Ode to Childhood. Except for the scene where he and you were boxing in the servants’ quarters.
APULEIUS: Well, he is the person who made me deaf in one ear. And anyway, I hardly touched the girl.
LORD D: She did produce a child for you. By and by, where is he now?
APULEIUS: Last I heard he had gone to join a war or something. Byron took many of my household with him the day he came by the manor.
LORD D: That bastard was a born leader. His pilgrimage took four of my servants with him as well. (Feeling around, he leans against the tree and listens) So, do you not hear the glorious song coming from this tree?
APULEIUS: Aye I do, but it sounds faint. When I look to my left at the sunset, I can hear it. When the sun is out of view, there is no song. The faintness of the song does allow me a more unique inspiration does it not?
LORD D: ‘Tis a shame, the birds in this tree are magnificent.
APULEIUS: There is only one bird in the tree.
LORD D: Nay, three. The others are to your right.
APULEIUS: (Looking up into the tree) Damn it all! That decimates my aesthetics after the third verse! (Scratching out the remaining verses)
LORD D: So much for inspiration.
APULEIUS: Don’t you talk to me of inspiration! I seem to remember during one of your trips to Prussia that you got lost in the forest for three days chasing a butterfly.
LORD D: It had the most beautiful of patterns on its wings. Reminded me of the mists of Avalon.
APULEIUS: There never was an Avalon.
LORD D: Herectic!
APULEIUS: You were still lost in Mallory and de Troyers, I think. And what the hell do you know anyhow? You are as blind as a fucking mole at the best of times.
LORD D: Well yes, but I could feel the creature’s beauty. Some things go beyond the sense.
APULEIUS: True enough. Weren’t you receiving a spiritual aid, however?
LORD D: Actually, I did have a copious amount of mushrooms in my belly. I think that it was Percy’s hashish that really helped me to navigate the forest.
APULEIUS: I find that my soul is best served when I have my Virgil beside me. One time after I read about the underworld, I went out into my garden and saw spirits in my perennials. My creative potency returned to full strength after staring at one of my roses for six hours.
LORD D: Isn’t that always the case with roses? How Freudian. (sits beside Apuleius)
APULEIUS: What are you talking about?
LORD D: I don’t know. I was just babbling and it came out.
APULEIUS: It sounds as though you are well ahead of your time.
LORD D: Do you know what else has let my quill flow? (dramatic pause) Absinthe!
APULEIUS: Once again, you a re a few years too early, I think.
LORD D: (picking up a sheet of Apuleius’s folio) It has yellowed. Are you striving for the aged look. Oh precious antiquity! Perhaps a lost manuscript? A newly-found Boethius? A (pause) Homer?
APULEIUS: Nay. My dog felt that he needed to express himself.
LORD D: I always feel as though I were from another age. As if my destiny were entwined with that of another from years past, perhaps even Odysseus himself. (jumps up quickly) Wait! (pause) I’m feeling the deepest of inspirations! (runs off into the forest, colliding with several trees in the process)
APULEIUS: Finally I am rid of him. A corrupting influence, he is. Now I may return to my work. (stares at a small flower by his feet as several minutes pass)
SCENE 2
A library. Several books are scattered about the floor. Apuleius sits reading. Lord D– enters followed by De G–, who is wearing a long cape. The narrator is forced to smirk with contempt.
LORD D: My Lord Apuleius. How goes your study?
APULEIUS: (starting) D–! I didn’t hear your admittance.
LORD D: Well then allow me to further introduce to you one of the most eminent man of letters of this generation or any other, a genius beyond measure, and a man for all seasons! William De G–, here in your very presence! (De G– bows slightly) I have brought him here to read your new work.
APULEIUS: Very kind of you, and Monsieur De G–, I am honoured. I was moved to tears by your Fall of Encolpius. What pain! What suffering. What need for lubrication!
LORD D: Indeed a watershed and a glorious triumph of the English language.
APULEIUS: Here is my folio. Please do not hesitate to critique it as you will.
LORD D: I am positive that you will only benefit from De G–‘s opinions. It was from him that I learned how to transcend mere description and use words to touch the face of God.
(De G– reads through the folio, nodding at various times)
APULEIUS: See, I knew this work would have a mark! It was a glorious month for me, as I felt prodigiously creative.
LORD D: Hold your thoughts for a second and let De G– finish. (After a few pauses during which he continues to nod ever more violently, De G– hands the folio to Apuleius. He ponders for a few moments, steadying his chin between his thumb and forefinger, then grabs a large pendant from around his neck and opens it. He pulls out a piece of paper and begins to write, while nodding to himself)
APULEIUS: Ha! Look! He is himself inspired to write! I think that my present work shall be my masterpiece, and a hallmark for future generations of under...um...graduates.
LORD D: Future what? Do you predict radical social change? A utopia run by these under...graduates, whose language and beauty shall enlighten all of humanity? Keep this future to yourself for the time being. In truth, De G– is writing his own opinions to you. (De G– hands the paper to Apuleius)
APULEIUS: What is this?
LORD D: Did you not know De G– is a mute?
APULEIUS: No I did not! (begins to read) And what is the meaning of this writing? Is this man truly touched by the gods?
LORD D: (examining the paper) Ah, well you must understand that in addition to being mute, De G– also suffers from spiritual possession which inspires all of his life’s work.
APULEIUS: This note looks as though it had been written by a constipated donkey.
LORD D: The spirits touch De G– by means of chronic, uncontrollably violent muscle spasms. Well, every true artist must develop his own unique style. I think that his spasmodic contractions add a great primitivism to his work, like a noble savage.
(De G– continues to nod uncontrollably)
SCENE 3
Feeling an almost total revulsion at the presumption and futility of the previous scene, the narrator ends it. Presently, Apuleius and Lord D– sit by the side of a lake observing the mists rising. De G– stands over them, the nodding of his head providing what, for our two protagonists, is a pleasing contrapuntal element to the scene in front of them.
LORD D: Beauty is everywhere, is it not?
APULEIUS: Aye. But despite the lucidity of the scene before me, my mind is elsewhere.
LORD D: Oh, another love? Christ, who is it this time?
APULEIUS: Lady Hamilton. She has captivated my heart. I do not think that I can continue without her.
LORD D: Nor should you.
APULEIUS: Those graceful hands that I need to clasp. Her luscious lips that I wish to kiss that ehy may provide me with such a delightful fever. Her cascading hair! And those breasts!
LORD D: Yes, much will be written about Lady Hamilton’s breasts.
APULEIUS: I wrote to her several Odes, encased in a velvet sleeve with pressed roses on its cover.
LORD D: She didn’t buy your ruse, did she?
APULEIUS: Nay. She told me that she thought I just wanted to fuck her.
LORD D: Women just do not have the capacity to understand true love.
APULEIUS: Well, she did allow me a quick lay.
LORD D: Quick?
(quick??)
APULEIUS: Well, I certainly cannot control the outpouring of my emotions! You really can’t restrain yourself, can you? That’s not very creative.
LORD D: I am sure that she appreciated your artistic integrity. (pause)
APULEIUS: I am a man in love as much as Ovid.
LORD D: You know, I don’t think that the poor can ever trule fall in love. How can they when they cannot even afford books? (long pause) Sometimes I think that God does not really know where it is going with all of this. (waves his hand in an extravagant gesture)
APULEIUS: What do you mean?
LORD D: It all seems so random, doesn’t it? So arbitrary. As though there really was no master plan. That God was really just writing what it felt like writing without thinking things though a little further.
APULEIUS: I agree.
(De G– hands Lord D– a note)
LORD D: So does De G–. He says that there really isn’t a God after all, that life is purely chance. God would provide proof if it really exis–
SCENE 4
Lightning strikes a tree, which then falls onto Lord D–, killing him instantly. It is a magnificent scene.
SCENE 5
Apuleius sitting opposite De G– by the lake.
APULEIUS: What the hell was the point of that? I guess that you are right, De G–.
(De G– nods, perhaps in accordance. They stare at each other for several minutes. Growing increasingly bored, the audience decides to vacate the theatre)
APULEIUS: Well, do you think that’s our cue?
(De G– nods)
APULEIUS: Alright, how do you want to do this, then?
(De G– begins drawing on a sheet of paper from his pendant, then hands it to Apuleius)
APULEIUS: Well, that should work. Do you have any rope?
(The narrator, having blown his cover with the whole lightning incident in the fourth scene, spontaneously creates two lengths of rope and places them beside De G–. The two climb up a tree and begin to tie the ropes to one of the tree branches, and then around their necks)
APULEIUS: This is not in vain, my friend. Our deaths will be studied for years to come. THIS is art! (Apuleius hurls himself from the tree and hangs himself. De G– follows, but their combined weight snaps the tree branch. He remains prostrate on the ground, shaking uncontrollably. After a few seconds he sits up and writes a note, leaves it on the ground, stands up nodding his head, and slowly exits)
...
(The note: well, there isn’t an audience anymore, so what the fuck. A troupe of travelling musicians enters into the scene. One of them finds the note beside Apuleius’s body and reads it)
RANDOMLY CREATED JUST FOR THE SAKE OF AN ENDING AND THEREFORE ULTIMATELY POINTLESS MUSICIAN: It just says: “I couldn’t even do this properly!” Poor soul. Must have been one of those Romantics. (Exit. The narrator can no longer withstand the blunt satire of his narrative, so...)
END
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