The CTR Anthology Page 10

  Military Man moves his head back slightly, signifying that’s a no-no. Monkey tries to cover up her guilt by giving it a last playful tug.

  The giggly kid is now fascinated by the charcoal lines on his face and starts to follow the lines with her finger mumbling her curious questions to him.

  He remains stonily impassive, as he places rifle beside him.

  Time for another bite thinks Monkey as she now begins to mumble the story of her life to him. However, she’s not looking at him because at this point she’s busying herself with the complexities of lowering the wrapper round the bar. All her attention is focused there now.

  An appropriate moment thinks Military Man. For he has for the past few seconds been himself fascinated with the sight of her bare left breast, which her blouse had unconsciously uncovered.

  Putting his Mars Bar in coat pocket, he sneakily makes a very subtle move, under the guise of helping her remove the wrapper from her Mars Bar.

  His left arm fumbling with wrapper from behind her back, his right in front of her. Mars wrapper ripped, his right arm ends resting on her knee, his left hand on her left breast.

  He stonily notes she is unaware of the move.

  He decides to make his move more obvious as he stonily squeezes her breast, a trace of guilt passing through his eyes.

  He notes once more a lack of suspicion from the opposite camp and is about to grin.

  Just then, Monkey’s attention is caught as she notices him playing with her breast. He stops. She giggles however and gives him a tiny wet kiss on the cheek and continues with the business of removing the wrapper altogether, mumbling about the difficulties chocolate bars sometimes pose. Her irritation shows as she moves up and down on his knee. Military Man decides to placate her as he starts to rock his knee, his eyes now definitely inflamed with lust.

  He decides to gamble and make a strategic move as he slowly fumbles with the buttons on her blouse.

  The friendly Monkey’s attention is once more diverted as she sees Military Man’s hand slip underneath her blouse and rest on her breast once more.

  Monkey inquires as to his intentions.

  Military Man’s eyes only brim with grim uncommunicative determination. Monkey decides to stop asking questions and see what he’s up to, as she watches on clueless but, with an unmistakable feeling that a surprise is due as his caresses move downwards along the side of her body. The air is full of excitement and anticipation.

  His hand slowly moves along her thigh. His face darkens. He feels the thigh once more, very firmly. His heart seems to stop beating for an instant, his eyes seem to be gripped with a strange look of anxiety, he can feel the hair on the back of his neck standing upright. He now does not move his open palm but keeps holding on to her thigh firmly, trying to confirm his suspicions.

  They are confirmed. Something is unmistakably very strange. His head quivers tensely. His neck muscles strain to break. His teeth grind and bite his lips. His eyes bulge. He shivers, trembles all over as he stares at his hand on her thigh, in terror.

  He moves his hand down to the hem of her skirt, grips a handful tightly and without warning pulls up the skirt with a quick move to her waist, and reveals the horror underneath.

  Monkey’s left leg is not made of skin but of fur! Black fur! Like a furry black cat’s fur! Not hair but fur!

  Military Man screams like a maniac as he hurls her off his knee to the ground and bolts a mile back, himself seeking refuge against the distant wall.

  The dropped girl cries in fright. Startled, clueless, frightened, she sobs, afraid of him, as she backs off on the floor slightly.

  The Military Man has stopped screaming, but is looking on at her furry leg in open-mouthed terror.

  He slowly looks up at her and sees the bawling kid even more scared than him.

  He sees her try to wipe a tear as she looks on sad and trembling.

  Military Man keeps looking at her leg for a while longer, then slowly, slowly, very, very cautiously dares to move forward towards her.

  This scares the sniffling Monkey as she starts to move back. Military Man stops. She stops. He moves a little slower now. His slow move reassures her slightly that he means no harm. Still, she’s very cautious.

  Military Man reaches her and crouches, and then kneels slowly in front of her thigh staring at it intently. Monkey stares at her leg too now, wondering curiously at the reason for all this undue attention to her leg.

  Their eyes meet for a moment. They stare at each other.

  Military Man slowly tentatively reaches out his hand over her thigh and with great deliberation forces himself to hold it.

  Monkey attentively watches on, now beginning to wonder if something might be wrong with her leg.

  Military Man caresses the furry thigh slightly. He hates to admit it, but it feels good. He suddenly clambers down to her foot and removes her shoe.

  A paw!

  He’s going to get scared again.

  She smiles naively.

  He removes the other shoe.

  A normal foot.

  He quickly, frenziedly lifts up her skirt to have a good look at her naked body.

  He’s slightly relieved at the lack of any more surprises.

  But that leg.

  Pink at the hip, slowing getting covered up with smooth black fur, but light at the thigh and blossoming into a full-fledged regular cat’s leg and paw.

  A second glance at the paw and now he thinks it’s cute. But the perversity of the whole thing confuses him tremendously.

  Still he’s fascinated by it as he holds her paw and caresses her leg and thigh.

  Monkey is reassured of his friendly intentions and giggles playfully, seeming to say, “That’s me, whadya think?”

  Military Man’s caresses slowly, imperceptibly become firmer and more passionate. His eyes recapture their former gaze of lust. Desire slowly seems to conquer perversity. Although he can never quite shake off that voice in him that keeps saying, screaming in fact, no, that’s wrong, No.

  He’s almost delirious now as he holds her tightly by the waist and brings her closer to him, his hand once more roving furiously alongside the length of her body, his rein over his passions now surely going beyond control, a beastly, animal frenzy overtaking him in its tight grip.

  Without warning he kisses her on the mouth with violent almost brutal passion as his hand fondles the opiate fur of her thigh.

  The smiling friendly Monkey now becomes very confused, welcoming his friendliness on the one hand, but pleading in her mumbles for less force. His brutal fury scares her and pains her.

  She’s almost sobbing now as things begin to go out of control and she becomes very frightened of him.

  His hand violently grips her hip, then he turns her to her back and mounts her, as he brutally claws the thigh all over.

  Monkey’s mumbling, gentle pleas are now lost in her frightened sobs and now tortured by the pain, trying to push him away almost wanting to scream, to run away.

  A brutal shove pins her to the ground and there is no escape.

  Music ends.

  Black.

  SCENE SEVEN: HATE

  Late afternoon. The following day. Very hot.

  Silence.

  The Son, the Mother, the Man.

  The Son standing by the shuttered window centrestage right, back to audience, brooding. Angry at himself, angry for having come back, feeling out of place, feeling like a fool.

  The Mother is seated on the couch, feeling extremely uneasy.

  The Man is peering out through the shutters of the central window. He turns in, looks at Mother, at Son.

  They’re all staring at each other, leaving countless things that must be said, unsaid.

  The Son is slowly seething inside.

  The Mother now tries only to look at neutral things. The Man’s stare is defiant, but recklessly defiant, the kind of self-assured stare that would want to make anyone in his right mind squash that fact to bits. Only he’s wearing
a gun.

  The Man can’t understand the Son’s persistent masochism, which is beginning to get on his nerves.

  Man: Why did you come back?

  Son: Yeah, well, home is where the heart is.

  The Man doesn’t like his joke as he stares at him with steely eyes. He then glances over at the Mother and slowly goes and sits next to her, very close, arm around her. He continues to size up the Son and his short supply of guts. The seething Son tries to be calm.

  The Man slowly turns to the Mother, turns her face to him and kisses her – slowly.

  The Mother’s open eyes guiltily see the Son see this and she tries to squirm out of it.

  The Man holds her face more firmly and kisses her twice as passionately and twice as slowly, making a point of tonguing her as wetly as he can.

  His hand now wanders down and he starts to caress her breast over her robe. The Mother decides best to go along with his whims as her resisting hand no longer tries to pry his grip loose, but slowly weakly drops.

  The Son looks on seething with rage, hate, disgust. Boiling. Boiling.

  The Man’s hand wanders inside her robe.

  The Son cant take it any more as he starts to mutter under his breath.

  Son: (Slow mutters – deliberate.) Fucking cunt … fucking … fuck … cunt … cunt. (The Man stops kissing and all stare. To Mother.) Fucking cunt. You cunt. No longer mutters. You fucking cunt. You fucking cunt. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, get fucked. Go on, get fucked you fucking cunt. You fucking pig, you slut. You fucking slut. You pig. You fucking pig. You filthy, slimy, fucking cunt. (The Son moves around very rapidly; bolts, jumps, starts, very unpredictably all round the room. He periodically rushes out and continues shouting offstage then runs back in throwing crates around, being dangerously maniacal) Cunt. Fuck. Fuck, go on fuck. Suck cock. Go on, you pig, suck cock, suck his cock, you fucking pig, you fucking cocksucking pig. You bitch. Suck cock, suck cock all the way to fucking hell, you motherfucking cunt. You fuck. You cunt. You shithole garbage slut. You fucking pig cunt. (Slowly having built his vituperation to a shouting spit-spouting frenzy, jumps up suddenly as the angry Man produces gun. The Son backs up in rage, hurling a crate down and keeping his furious distance. Then to Man) You fucking asshole, you make one more fucking move I’m gonna rip your fucking balls off, you fucking cunt sucking pig, you fucking shit. Asshole. You motherfucking asshole. You motherfucking cocksucker, fuck off, you fucking shitface, fuckface pigass cocksucking cock eating pile of shit. You motherfucking cocksucking asshole. Fuck off. Fuck off. (Man cocks gun, Son enraged comes and shouts in his ear.) You fucker. You want me to drag you outa here, you fucking bastard, you fucking shit. You fuck. You motherfucking, cunt lapping asshole licking piece of shit. Hey, fuckface you deaf or what. You asshole, I’m gonna kick you outa here so hard you’re gonna fucking slide in your piss, you fucking flatfoot cocksucker. (Son makes a move forward. Man makes a move with gun. Son bolts back to behind a chair, even angrier.) You motherfucking shit. You cunt sucking motherfucking cocksucking fucking asshole shit. You garbage fuck. You shit reaming pigfucking dogfucking cocksucking motherfucking asshole cunt. Motherfucking fuck. Fucking cocksucking cocksucker. (Son is getting very tired now, but keeps it up.) Cunthole fuck. Fucking, fuck fucking, fuck fucker, fuck. Fuck. (Winded, out of breath, almost crying. The mother and Man now just sit and look away. The Man patiently waits for him to finish as he inspects the ceiling. A slow comeback from Son. To Mother.) Filthy slut. You cunt. Cunt. Get fucked, you cunt, you slut, you pig. Come on, spread your fucking legs and let him suck you off, you cunt. Let him suck your fucking cunt, your snatch. Fuck your snatch slit twat quim pussy cunt. Fuck your cunt, you fucking pig. (To Man.) Fuck her cunt, asshole. (Weary now.) C’mon asshole grab your motherfucking prick and shove it in her motherfucking cunt and fuck the shit outa that motherfucking bitch. You motherfucking, cocksucking cunt. Fuck. Cunt. (Pause.) Cunt. (Pause.) Fuck. Fuck. (Long pause.) Fuck cunt. Cunt. Cunt. (Pause, all mutters now, as he sinks down on his knees behind the armchair, all worn out, and very sad.) Fucking Cunt. (Pause.) Cunt. Cunt. Fuck. (Pause.) Fuck. (Pause.) Fuck. (Pause.) Fuck. (Pause.) Fuck. (Lengthy, lengthy pause.) Get out. (Pause.)

  The sound of the waves is heard in the distance.

  Pause.

  All remain quiet.

  The exhausted Son is crying silently.

  The Man awkwardly sits.

  The Mother impassive; no longer offended; deeply hurt and sad.

  When some shuffling noises are heard and Monkey crawls in, on all fours, from entrance (upstage right).

  Monkey is very subdued and far from her usual cheerful self.

  She pauses as she sees the three and senses the gloom in the heavy air.

  She quizzically looks from one to another, almost asking for an explanation.

  None is offered.

  She now stares at the Son who remains immobile, but tenses a little.

  She smiles weakly as she tentatively crawls over to him, feeling her usual particular extra special friendliness towards him.

  He starts a little and tenses a lot, causing her to stop.

  Mumbling softly she extends her hand and shyly touches his knee.

  She starts to caress his thigh, when the Son can no longer control his horrified disgust and screaming loudly kicks her brutally away.

  Crying Monkey backs fearfully as the Son jumps up and away still screaming.

  Son: Leave me alone, leave me alone.

  He sees a broom, rushes, grabs it and brutally prods her towards the cage.

  Son: Get in there, come on, get in there.

  Monkey whimpers, scared and in pain, when the Man interjects, violently grabs the broom away from him, pushing him back.

  Man: Leave her alone. I said leave her alone.

  Son backs to the wall in impotent unsatisfied rage. He angrily looks at him for a second.

  Son: Go to hell!

  And gets out downstage right very fast, very angry, slamming door behind him.

  The Man looks after him for a while then turns to the Mother to see her very tense standing way upstage left as the sniffling Monkey sadly approaches her.

  The Man watches intently.

  Monkey is sad and craving for the Mother’s compassion.

  The Mother tenses up, full of revulsion.

  Monkey tentatively touches her thigh.

  With a groan of disgust, the Mother pushes Monkey down and is about to move away when she notices the Man staring at her with disbelief.

  She realizes the severity of her attitude and takes a seat on an armchair instead, trying not to make the situation any worse.

  Music: The Lost Man

  The music of the window gently creeps in as Monkey once more attempts a plea for sympathy and creeps close to Mother and gently, timidly caresses her hand.

  Mother remains immobile, trying to fight the repulsion. Helpless, not wanting to, but not being able to help it. Horror, disgust mounting up in her unbearably. Yet trying to suppress it, not moving on purpose.

  Monkey’s eyes plead, a few silent mumbles escaping her, but in vain, for there is nothing coming from the Mother. Sad and rejected, she persists as she attempts one last move, getting up on her knees, wanting to kiss her cheek.

  The Man sees the Mother quiver with unbearable, painful revulsion.

  The Mother can’t stand it any longer as she violently tosses Monkey away and backs up against the wall, on the brink of hysteria.

  The rejected Monkey rocks herself a little, not knowing what to do.

  The Man slowly walks over to Monkey, who backs a little, scared, but the Man’s reassuring pat allays her fears. He gently caresses her hair for a while, then pats her off.

  Man: Go on, go on.

  Monkey is cheerful now as she slowly wanders upstage, curiously inspecting the room, on all fours, touching, mumbling, sniffing, content with the search and the discoveries the room offers.

  The Mother moves off downstage right quickly, in disgust, in tearful supp
ressed anger at Monkey, at herself, at her lack of love for her.

  The Man looks at her, puzzled, uncomprehending, feeling disdain, contempt for her attitude.

  The Mother sees his accusatory look and hugging her shoulders tries to hide her tears, her whole body trembling.

  Something tense on the brink of explosion can be felt when Monkey affectionately decides to rub her body against the Man’s legs and receives another absent-minded pat.

  At the same instant the volume of the music increases.

  The creepy menace slides out, the ominous cue occurs.

  The light from the shack across the window goes on, the lights in the room dim.

  And only Monkey notices the light.

  For at that precise moment, the Man decides to have a confrontation with the Mother and angrily walks over to her.

  Monkey mumbles at the Man in warning, but he doesn’t hear her.

  Monkey feels something very wrong in the air, feels scared, instinctively knows the light to be an omen of some sort.

  Monkey anxiously calls out after the Man some more, but he can’t hear her, for he is now immersed in an angry, loud, violent argument with the Mother.

  Although the ongoing argument between the Man and the Mother is literally screamed, it is nevertheless barely audible under the crushing impact of the music’s violently loud volume.

  Man: What’s going on here? Huh? What the hell is going on here? Hey, I’m talking to you. (Grabs her and turns her around to face him.) Answer me when I talk to you.

  Mother: Please don’t ask me anything, I can’t explain.

  Man: You can’t explain! Whadya mean you can’t explain?

  Mother: (Mumbling, turns face away.) I can’t, I just can’t.

  Man: Look at me, now you look at me …

  Meanwhile the lights have cross faded so that the Man and the Mother are in relative darkness, whilst Monkey’s urgent appeals are highlighted.

  But to no avail.