The CTR Anthology Read online

  Monkey now has to go check herself as she scurries to the window and tries to peer out through the obstinate shutters.

  No luck. Nothing can be seen. A decision must be made and soon thinks Monkey as she makes a half-hearted attempt to reach for the window latch.

  But no. The fear. Too much.

  One more plea at Man. No use.

  When she notices her favourite rubber duck lodged beneath the couch. She retrieves it and absent-mindedly fondles it, but thoughts of the window are becoming more and more persistent, and she finds she is mentally beginning to gradually overpower her initial fears. A mischievous glint can now be detected in her eye as she gives the couple downstage right a furtive glance.

  Man: … When I first got here, I see you and your stupid kid shacked up here. Here in this shack. Out of nowhere I find you two cooped up in here. Why, why, huh? What the hell are you two doing here? Huh, what?

  Mother: I can’t explain. I can’t tell you. Can’t you understand, I just can’t.

  Man: Whadya mean, what are you talking about, you gone nuts or what? What’s all this mystery? What? What? (Shakes her some more and tosses her down on chair.) Then there’s this other kid of yours. Jesus Christ, what the, what’s the matter with you, you’re treating the poor kid like she was some animal. I mean, Christ, just ’cause she’s a cripple, you put her in a cage. (Walks over to cage.) A cage. A goddamn cage, for Christ’s sake. I oughta put you in a cage. (Angrily walks back to her.)

  An opportune moment, thinks the mischievous Monkey, her mind now definitely made up to open the window. On the sly. Before anybody realizes it or changes their mind. The incredible necessity to see what’s on the other side of the window only bringing new unexperienced thrills now, fear thrown at bay altogether.

  With a naughty smile, she slowly, slowly crawls over to the window, climbs up a crate lying underneath, and barely able to suppress her guilty giggles begins to fiddle with the latch, her adventures totally unnoticed by the two.

  Man: What kinda crazy setup is this? What kinda lousy way is this to treat a poor kid? Nobody treats their kid like that. Nobody.

  Mother: That’s not my kid. It’s not mine.

  Man: Whadya mean, not yours?

  Mother: Please stop asking me all these questions. I told you you wouldn’t understand.

  Man: Don’t give me that crap again. Start talking right now. You got no feelings, you got no feelings at all.

  Mother: How would you know? How dare you talk about feelings. I hate her, don’t you understand. I hate her. I can’t stand her. I can’t stand to have her near me. I can’t bear to have her touch me. She disgusts me. I wish she were dead.

  Man: (About to slap her.) You bitch!

  Utter contempt for her, he doesn’t even slap her but disgustedly goes to sit in an armchair, confusion gnawing at his guts.

  That abrupt cross to the chair was a close call for Monkey as she guiltily lost her balance and almost fell, noisily.

  But she managed to regain her balance in the nick of time, still unnoticed by the two.

  And so, amidst more guilty giggles, she cheerfully fiddles some more with that obstinate latch, trying to pry the difficult thing open.

  The music approaching its climax. Nearing, nearing, ever closer.

  The latch is open.

  Monkey parts the shutters lightly. Tries to. They seem to be stuck. She uses all her strength to pull them open.

  The music peaks.

  The Mother turns to offer yet another explanation to the Man about why she can’t explain, when she notices the window being opened and screams at the top of her lungs.

  The Man bolts out of his chair.

  Too late, for Monkey just met with success.

  The shutters fly open all the way to reveal…

  The Other Woman, no longer bloodied and very much alive, still tied, but in the throes of blind ecstasy.

  And the Son, naked from the waist up, behind her, passionately caressing her body, her breasts, her belly, her thighs and kissing her neck.

  The Son immediately lifts his head the moment he notices the window opened and looks in at the three with blind hate, staring right at them through black-yellow eyes.

  Jolted to motion once more, both the Man and the Mother zoom to the window in utter panic.

  The Man hurls Monkey away, hurls interfering Mother away and slams shutters closed.

  Face white with fear, feels his brain swimming, grabs gun and unthinkingly rushes out (upstage right).

  Monkey is too stunned to complain and just stares at his exit and at Mother, very scared.

  The Mother, weakly holding on to the wall, breathing with difficulty, dazedly looking at window, suddenly turns to look the other way.

  A strange, strange claustrophobic, hysteric look.

  A look of a person about to burst.

  The music fades as the lights fade to Black.

  SCENE EIGHT: BURST

  Music: Fill Your Hand Top, furious volume.

  The manic rage of a pianist crashes the bass notes in the Black.

  Lights fade up to reveal Mother, Man, Monkey.

  A deep angry orange glow.

  Monkey on the floor centre, facing them upstage.

  The Man seated upper right on a crate, by the door, feeling very spent.

  The Mother against, in front of the window.

  The Mother.

  The Mother is pent-up with rage and fury. The fury of the countless years. But no longer. Dangerously on the brink of letting go. Dangerously meaning business. Dangerously about to explode and detonate all in sight in the process.

  She slowly, slowly raises her painful tense quivering head, murder, death, violence shining in her eyes.

  A second frenzied crash of piano notes.

  The Mother slowly, slowly walks ahead of her, staring ahead of her, her mind is made up, only a matter of time. The screws have spun loose and spiralled into nowhere. It will happen. Definite.

  A third jolt from the chords.

  She tensely clutches the back of a chair, looking down ahead of her, determined eyes calculating all. Still keeping it in, all in, readying herself for that gigantic eruption. Now boiling. Boiling.

  A fourth frenzied quiver of chords.

  She tensely angrily murderously looks up and focuses all her attention on Monkey.

  Monkey, scared out of her wits, whimperingly scurries out on all fours to bathroom (downstage left), and safety, she hopes.

  A fifth jolt from the chords.

  The Mother slowly, slowly turns her head and focuses on the Man, who very tense also, knows what is about to happen. Aware, afraid, stubborn.

  The Mother’s eyes go to the door upstage right. Breathing heavy.

  The Man’s too.

  Both look at each other.

  Mother makes a start.

  Man does just as quick.

  Both stop.

  A silence in music. The silence before.

  Both know.

  Both wait.

  Both tense.

  Both determined.

  The music suddenly explodes in crazy manic hysteria, no more stops, just one long extended string of shrieking frenzy.

  Mother screams like a maniac as she lunges at the door. All reason gone now forever. Just one clawing burning pressing urgent need to get out of that door, no matter what. Just getting out.

  Screaming, yelling, “Lemme go,” “Lemme out,” constant screaming panic, hysteria, she lunges.

  But the Man is equally determined and just as stubborn, also having lost all reason, his one aim in life, to stop her from getting out, stop her at all costs.

  The Man grabs the Mother by the waist, her body in constant non-stop motion, frenzied hands, legs, all over, must escape out of clutches. Out of door. Hands clawing his face, feet kicking his shins. The Man oblivious to pain, all strength, takes all punches and persists in holding her motionless. He drags her all the way to upstage left. A very, very long way. As she strains at the chai
ns of captivity, manages to turn entire body around, so Man holding her by waist from behind, having more difficulty. The force of her straining makes him turn around so that she is once more facing the door. A violent clawing of his eyes and she’s out of his grasp as she zooms to door.

  Man lunges after her, loses grip on slippery robe, grabs her once more and drags her back again as far away as possible from door.

  Mother kicks, punches, going bananas, fury, pounce out of his clutches once more, bringing him to floor.

  But not long, for Man grabs her by the leg and causes her to stumble on couch between her and door.

  Mother holds to couch trying to jump over it.

  Man on floor in frenzy grabbing her leg for very life pulling back, back.

  Mother getting pulled back, only able to hold leg of couch. Almost tentative.

  A sudden summoning up of energy and pulls herself forward, now dragging him along forward.

  Violent kicks of fury.

  One on face and released from grasp.

  Mother lunges once more over couch, climbing over and down.

  Man leaps up suddenly and tackles her legs. He falls back on couch, causing her to fall back on couch as well, over him.

  Mother still trying to get loose, breaks forth from over him.

  Grabs back of couch, lifts herself, knocking him down.

  Free once more.

  Man holds her by left arm dragging her back, he stumbling, now fallen on seat on floor.

  Agony, frustration of Mother.

  Fear. Fear. Fear.

  Suddenly sees plank lying by crates.

  Still being held by arm, lunges, grabs wooden plank with right arm, squirming out of his grasp frenziedly.

  Man loses grip, unprepared.

  She holds plank with both hands “pow” breaks it, landing it on his head.

  Man unconscious, very hurt.

  Mother free at last. No more restraint. Free to run to door. To run out.

  She lunges to door running.

  She suddenly stumbles and falls.

  Frenzied clamber up and lunge to go.

  Legs unsteady, wobbles, falls flat down on face.

  Frenzy, hysteric. Frantic.

  Why legs unsteady?

  Trying to get up. Clamber. Up.

  Like in puddle of oil.

  Legs slippery. Fall off.

  Up again. Fall, slippery.

  Scream agony, frustration.

  Must get up. Fall, slippery.

  Hands on floor, frenziedly steadying herself up, up on feet, about to go, slips, falls.

  Cry in frustration.

  Up. Fall.

  Up. Fall.

  Up. Fall.

  Frenzy of holding to couch for support to get up.

  All force on couch. Lifts herself up. Fall.

  Hold on to couch once more. Hysterical. Help support couch. Props herself up.

  Lets go of couch. Falls again.

  Lets go of couch. Just try to get up on own again.

  Up. Fall.

  Frenzy of clambering up, legs slipping underneath, falling. Hands, knees, prop up to feet.

  Can’t move now.

  Feet stuck to ground.

  Electrocuted in the puddle almost.

  Electric shocks running up her legs, up her body, through her extended, shaking waving now stiff arms, hands, fingers.

  A gigantic shiver running through to guts, doubling up, falling down.

  Frenzy once more, clamber up.

  Again lengthy, immediate electrocution.

  Sparks, electric shocks. Stiffening her body, extended arms causing her to lose balance, trying to rise out of puddle on tips of toes.

  Tremble back, fall.

  Man coming to.

  Man seeing her.

  Man getting up to come to stop. To hold her back.

  Panic.

  Nightmare. The Blob. Coming. Coming. Nearer.

  Frenzy. Fear, as Mother hurling frightened looks at him, holding on to couch, clambers up, tries to run, falls.

  Crying terror, Man nearer nearer nearer, clambers up couch, to legs, fall.

  Up, run, fall.

  Man reaches her, holds her by the arms, lifts her up, holding her tight, firm grip unescapable. Mother hysterical as Man holds her by waist, tight against him.

  Mother move, move, gyrate, squirm, pound fists on chest, legs move, slip, trying to get away, away, away.

  Cry despair, desperate, tired, slowing holding on snivelling almost, must get out of clutches.

  Move, move, move, now faster, faster again, faster.

  Cry. Scream. Frenzy.

  Suddenly raging rips his shirt open. Violently rips down his back. Violently trying to remove, press down.

  Frantic sudden stick glue press angry violent desperate press her body tight tight against him.

  Frenzy. Need. Desperate. Must have. Furious frenzy of sticking, pressing tight, herself on him, sap him, drain him, get him, get his energy, stick, must.

  Frenzy of motion, move, tight press now electric shock-like. Her whole body electrified, energized, stick tighter, drain tighter, drain out of his body, drain out his pain.

  Rip body, claw chest, furious, frenzy claw rip skin off. Jump on him, legs around, tighter, in him, into him.

  But exhausted. Spent. Slipping. Slowly reluctantly slipping. Sliding down him. Down his chest. Down his thigh. Down his leg. Down to the floor. Still holding to his leg. Angry tired frustration.

  The Man breathes heavily in relief. Slowly moves back, unable to shake her loose.

  Kicks her away tiredly. Falls on couch. Dead-beat. Breathing heavily.

  Mother stubbornly, weakly crawls along the floor to him, weakly grabs his leg once more, weakly climbs up his leg, up on couch beside him, about to climb up to his mouth, falls, flops on his lap. Beat.

  The Man tiredly flops a protective arm over her.

  Slow slow fade to Black.

  The music rages, rips, roars in black for 30 seconds, slowly evaporates, trembles rage off, exhausted.

  Fades in

  Black.

  SCENE NINE: PASSION

  The sound of the waves.

  A hot evening.

  The room is empty.

  Slowly Monkey appears out of the bathroom, hesitantly limping in.

  She is quiet, quizzical and very cautious after that scare she got from Mother.

  She listens around. Nothing.

  She’s about to doublecheck that “nothing” as she slowly starts to limp towards the bedroom (upstage left), holding on to crates and wall for support.

  Noises of movement are heard and without warning the Son enters from upstage right, dragging in the semi-conscious Other Woman. He’s holding her under her arms and constantly trying to make her stand. She refuses. All she can do is shiver.

  The Other Woman is totally drenched, head to toe. She’s wearing a white slip, white bra, white panties, and one white shoe. She’s prone to using mascara by the bushel and the price is now paid as heavy dabs trickle wetly down her cheeks.

  The Son, busy dragging the Other Woman starts slightly as he sees Monkey. A tense, unfriendly look backs the frightened Monkey against the cage.

  Son is tense as he takes Other Woman and seats her on couch.

  He stands and stares at Monkey who stares back.

  Finally convinced that danger is at bay for the present, gives his attention to the Other Woman.

  Son: C’mon, take your clothes off. Hey! C’mon, you’re gonna catch cold.

  She’s not that conscious and just sits, all glassy-eyed, dopey-like, in another world, shivering constantly, helplessly.

  Son has to do it all himself He’s a little annoyed as he decides to go to the bathroom to fetch something.

  Wiping sweat off his brow, he unthinkingly moves to find himself perilously close to forgotten Monkey.

  He tenses. He stomps his foot threateningly, causing scared Monkey to lose balance and topple on all fours.

  Son is equally s
cared, however, as he backs away almost as quickly.

  Using the longest, furthest way possible he exits to bathroom and re-enters with towel in hand, and again using furthest route from Monkey goes over to Other Woman.

  A moment of indecision and finally he stands Other Woman up, who, shivering and tottering, needs to be almost constantly held up by Son. He mumbles pleasantries to her constantly, trying to soothe her as he raises her wet skirt above her head and removes it, bending her slightly to get it offfrom around her arms.

  Son: Gotta undress you, don’t mind me. Off it goes. Soon get you all dried up.

  Son is no longer aware of Monkey, who watches every little detail most attentively.

  Son throws slip on floor. Steadies her straight. Shivering, Other Woman manages to keep standing. Son goes behind her, undoes bra, lowers it very slowly, removes, squeezes water out of it, throws down with slip. Gets down on knees next, about to remove panties, sees shoe, decides to remove that instead, lifts her foot up, off with the shoe.

  A silent moment, then he lowers her panties very quickly, raises her right foot, removes panties, lifts up left leg, removes panties completely, throws over with other clothes.

  Other Woman shivers a lot now as she makes feeble attempts to hug her shoulders.

  Son takes towel and starts to dry her, thoroughly.

  First her hair and face and ears.

  Son: Dry your ears. (Then neck.) And now your neck. There we go. (Then right arm.) Skinny arms. Should eat some more. (Then left arm. Then chest and belly.) Belly button all dried up. (Then sides of body. Then back. All very thoroughly. Then he seats her back on couch.) Sit you down now. (Dries her thighs, down leg and foot.) Do up your toes. (To other foot and thigh. A silent reverent moment. A small dab between the thighs. Hair once more. Wonders if he missed anything. Bends her forward. Goes over back again. Lifts her up. Dries bum.) The bum. (All dry now.) There we go. (Throws towel down.) Oh, get you a blanket now.

  Gets blanket from beside a crate, drapes it over her, and sits her on the couch once more, and cuddles next to her, warming her up, rubbing her lovingly over blanket.

  She’s regained some consciousness now and looks like she’s in a very unsociable mood.

  Son sits on couch beside her, looking at her quietly. Now strangely subdued and sad.

  He holds her cheeks gently and gently caresses her hair, murmuring. She looks away dazed, unfriendly.