The World Is A Pointy Stick by David Fischer Copyright (C) 1999 David Fischer Cast: Narrator Cop Thief Troll Sophia Scientist Mushroom Dirt General Man The set is bare except for a pointy stick on some kind of stand, perhaps on top of a pedistal. Narrator: The World Is A Pointy Stick play The narrator is not supposed to read this part. all notes included The set is bare except for a pointy stick on some kind of stand, perhaps on top of a pedistal. random group of characters fight over a POINTY STICK, strange angular arguments rational arguments offset by non rational character offset by non have characters involved before they make their claim more dead bodies on stage some arguments monologues some arguments interspersed narrator heckles characters throughout and responds with derision to their lines oh look, here comes a line now. During the last few lines the Cop has been approaching the pointy stick and examining it from various angles. Cop: I need the pointy stick to threaten the masses, to maintain law and order. Narrator: Law and order! Can you believe this shit! Cop: I object to that! I play an important role in this society! If it weren't for me Narrator: Cop is cut off by thief. Thief: If it weren't for you my life would be a hell of a lot easier! I need the stick to force open windows, threaten my victims, and keep off the occasional dog. Thief reaches for the stick, and is violently pushed away by the cop. This may continue back and forth untill the cop exits. Cop: How can you come out here in front of everyone and present that as a legitimate claim to the stick! This stick is pointy, it must be used for the betterment of society at large! Narrator: Is betterment a word? Cop: SHUT UP! Troll: Kick him in the head! Sophia: Calm yourself, you cannot fight him! Thief: Yeah, relax! Let go! Narrator: The insolent cop exits stage left. The cop exits stage left, as if dragged by an unseen hand. Cop: Hey! Wait, stop, you can't... Thief: That's better! Sophia: Was that necessary? Narrator: The narrator ignores Sophia. Scientist: The narrator refers to himself in the third person. That is most curious! Most curious indeed! Narrator: The curious scientist's curiosity overwhelms him. The scientist goes wandering around the stage, lookingly closely at various things, measuring things, murmering to himself, gesturing incoherently, etc. Sophia: Why are you so mean? Silent pause. Narrator: I'm not mean. I'm in charge. The stick, as the cop indicated, is pointy, and must be handled carefully. Who is to get the stick, and for what reason? Will they hold it aloft for all to see, or use it in secret? Will they make grand sweeping gestures with it, frightening the livestock? Will they force their will upon the land and skies, the weather, the stars? What terrible power will we unleash upon ourselves and our children for generations to come, if we casually disperse the stick to the first claimant that stumbles across our doorstep and accidently bangs his nose on my shoe? Look at my shoe. My shoe isn't even tied. Do you see what a state things have gotten to already! Obviously I should tie my shoe now, but may I? Certainly not, matters of the stick will not wait for one who sits in judgement to bend over and tie his shoe. These things just can't wait. Won't wait. Can't wait! Now do you understand the pressure that I am under? Mushroom: Over! Dirt: Under! Mushroom: Over! Dirt: Under! Mushroom and Dirt continue back and forth in the background for a while. Sophia: I'm sorry. Troll: Compassion is a washout. Thief: You tell her! Sophia: Is there anything I can do to help? Thief: Oh, trying to butter him up so he gives you the stick? Nice try, but I really don't think so. Sophia: Some people are capable of rising above greed you know! Thief: No one I've ever met. Troll: A friend of mine climbed a really tall tree once. Dirt: No tree, only dirt. Troll: What do you mean, no tree? Of course there are trees! There are trees everywhere! Where do you think the pointy stick came from? Sticks grow on trees you know! Dirt howls. Mushroom: Clouds grow on trees sitting on tables waiting for lunch floating downstream carving granite skies so we can have a nice sunset floating in bleach. Sophia: Stop it, stop it! This is serious, we have to decide what to do with the stick! If only we had a voice of reason! Narrator: At some point the scientist returns. Sophia: Thank you! Thief: Suck-up. Scientist: I need the stick to use as a fundamental artifact for calibration. All units of measurement will be based on some measurement of this stick, which will be kept in a hermeticly sealed glass case in a vault at one of the poles, so as to avoid any deterioration due to the coriolis effect nearer to the equator. Sophia: Which pole? North or south? Mushroom: East! Dirt: West! Scientist: That is clearly an unimportant matter of implimentation. Whichever. Thief: He doesn't even know if he wants it at the North pole or at the south pole! Hey buddy, I don't know where you come from, but on this planet that's considered a big difference! Troll: What do you want to measure? Everything is the right size to be what it is. What does it matter if you can assign a number to it or not? Scientist starts to formulate a response, but doesn't get anywhere with it. Narrator: Scientist stutters inefectively, while Thief whispers something to Mushroom. Mushroom: You can't give him the stick, he has no feathers! Thief: [To Mushroom] Plan, not feathers! He has no plan! Mushroom: He has no plan! Thief: [To Mushroom] Thank you... I think. Dirt: No no no no no feathers! Thief: Shush! Thief stifles dirt. Mushroom: We have nothing to fear but feathers! Thief stifles mushroom. Dirt: Fear of feathers! Far-flung feathered facts! Furry fancifull faith in fear-filled fog-flaunting feathers! Thief gives up trying to keep them quiet, walks away. Scientist: It's not that I don't know, it's just that it doesn't matter, it- Narrator: Scientist is cut off by Narrator. Truth aside, you don't seem to be popular. That's a death sentance, don't you know? Scientist drops dead, remains prone on the floor for the rest of the play. Narrator: Pause while everyone stares at the prone body. Sophia, Goddess of Wisdom, enters dramaticly. Sophia: But I'm already on stage! Narrator: Sophia, Goddess of Wisdom, enters dramaticly. Sophia sighs, goes offstage, then re-enters, dramaticly. Sophia: There! Is that what you wanted? Narrator: Sophia, Goddess of Wisdom, enters dramaticly, explaining her claim to the pointy stick as she does so. Sophia swears under her breath, goes offstage again, returns. Sophia: I desire the pointy stick as a starting point for building other tools. This will lead to an enlightened civilization where technology replaces labor and the masses are freed to persue higher artistic and scientific endeavors. Narrator: The Narrator laughs. Narrator laughs. Narrator: Oh my, oh my. To offset this naivite, we have some incoherence. Sophia: Civilized persuits are not naive! The very society you see Narrator: Sophia is cut off. Mushroom: I need the pointy stick. I will use it to poke the sun untill it turns blue and lets me sleep in better. To be unprepared is to be dehydrated, thus I have procured this herd of cattle, the single largest herd gathered together on this continent in the last five hundred years! Mushroom points to a single dog. Cop from offstage: That's fraud! Let me out there! Narrator: Gently, gently, everything is under control. Troll: Is that actually a giant herd of cattle? Cop from offstage: If the scientist weren't dead we would know for sure. Narrator: I heard that. Thief: Come on people! It's a dog, just a simple plain old dog! Sophia: Perhaps we should just let the dog play with the stick. Troll: Breakthrough, Sophia! Doesn't giving up feel wonderfull? Breathe in that air of defeat, fill your lungs with it! Now wallow in pessimistic self-pity! Ah, doesn't that make you feel pointlessly alive? Revel in it! Ahhhh.... ha ha ha ha. Narrator: Quiet. Now we shall hear from dirt. Dirt: I need the stick. Sophia: At least he isn't being deceptive. Troll: Did he speak? Thief: What's he need it for! He isn't even sentient! Dirt: I need the stick. Give me the stick. Troll: He speaks! Would you believe this, he speaks! Sophia: His claim is no worse than most of the others. Dirt: Stick stick stick! Troll: Speak speak speak! Narrator: I don't think that argument requires any explanation or commentary. It is the same as the others, minus the deceptive PR spin. We move on... the troll speaks. Troll: Dirt dirt dirt? Narrator: No, I mean explain your claim to the stick. Troll: Oh, sorry. I'm not really a troll I'm a man, a normal man Except I do seem to be changing lately I am gradualy becoming more troll-like Strange caloused ridges are growing on my feet My bones are twisted with pain And so is my brain My antlers branch again and again My pelt is ragged I am the subject of more and more bigfoot sightings. I find myself eating strange things gnawing on dead animals I find by the road chasing hikers through the forest hiding under bridges catching rats Narrator: Is this going anywhere? Troll looks confused. Narrator: Your claim to the stick? Troll: Oh, sorry. I need the pointy stick in order to hurt people. Sophia: Whom? Troll: What? Sophia: Whom do you wish to hurt with the stick? Troll: Oh. Innocent people mostly. Whoever is available I guess. Narrator: Who the fuck uses the word "whom"? Sophia: It's proper english you know! Narrator: Nobody cares. Anyways. The Troll gave us the animal deep within mankind point of view on the stick. But the troll is a throwback. Is he relevant to our problem? Perhaps we need a more modern perspective? Mushroom: Modern perspectives are on the left. Dirt: And they're RED GREEN BLUE VIOLET PINK! General: I need the pointy stick in order to maintain my advantage in weapons technology. Dirt & Mushroom start to cry. Narrator: But why? What's the point? If we can't use the troll, then the general is no better. There's no difference in the modern perspective. I need a drink. Sophia: The narrator needs a drink. Narrator: Don't narrate! Sophia: I was just commenting. General: Excuse me Sir, but I do not think you understood my point. The need for advantageous ground against an enemy is a question of defending your homeland, and the freedom of its civilian population to be safe from harm or distress. The military need for superior weaponry is the most noble of the basic needs of any civilized state. Without the ability to defend itself, a nation is at the mercy of the tyranny of barbarians! Sophia lets out a shocked gasp. Troll does a little victory dance. Cop from offstage: The national defense is the first step towards law and order! Narrator: If the General and Sophia would listen very carefully for just a moment, I believe that what I am about to say will clarify some of the issues we have been debating so feverishly. Pause All characters focused on Narrator Narrator: Ooo-eeee Ooo-ah-ah Ting tang walla-walla Bing bang. All characters erupt into general pandemonium General: Do you mock me, good Sir? I demand an explanation! Narrator: You are not in the position to demand anything of anyone. And please dispense with the mock civilities. Sophia: Is it incomprehensable to you that he might want to treat people with respect, just for the sake of communicating in a civilized environment? Narrator: Lets see, ah...... yes. Completely incomprehensable, inconceivable, and I must add, inexcusable. Troll: Brutally cynical, I like that! Narrator: Who asked you to speak, Troll-boy? Go back to passing off childish taunts as postmodern wit. You're good at that. Dirt and Mushroom console Troll. Thief whispers to them briefly, then goes over and whispers with General & Sophia. Narrator: The other characters begin to plot against me, which is clearly futile as I must describe their actions and am therefore aware of their every move. General: We must kill the narrator. Troll: Arm the masses! Thief: Riot! Mushroom: Disco! Dirt howls. General: We could use some technology on our side... Sophia: The scientist rises from the dead. Scientist rises. Scientist: You have to consider the weakest point of the enemy's strategic defense. Mao said: "Fight no battle unprepared, Fight no battle you are not sure of winning; make every effort to be well prepared for each battle, make every effort to ensure victory on the given set of conditions as between the enemy and ourselves." Narrator: No he doesn't. Scientist drops back down. Sophia & General wisper to each other. Narrator: Sophia and The General wisper to each other, plotting against me. Ho hum. Sophia exits. General: We have a proposal the contents of which we would like you to consider thinking about as something to possibly take a look at. We think that our positions are mutually, um... Narrator: The General distracts me while Sophia recalls the Cop from exile. General: [very distracted, looking for Sophia's return] Mutually, um, mutually exclusive possible paths for action in response to forward intelligence which must be dismissed as unreliable and compromised positions should be returned to the manufacturer for a full refund. Do you have the um... the... receipt? Cop and Sophia suddenly return. Cop: Normally I would have to object to such lawless behaviour, but one must recognize the right of the people to revolt under such extreme circumstances. But the ends and means must justify each other, or something. Make sure of that, whatever it is! You give me your word? All except narrator: Whatever it is! Narrator: What the fuck? Sophia: The lights go out! The lights go out. Narrator screams. Dirt & Mushroom: Blood blood blood blood! Troll: Heh heh heh heh. Die, you bastard! Lights return. The stick is bloody. Thief is holding a TV. Dirt & Mushroom: Ding Dong, the narrator's dead. [repeat] Characters wander the stage, mutely, looking up for some sign of a new narrator. There is none. Long pause. Man enters with envelope. Man: I have news! Man trades envelope for stick, immediately runs offstage with it. Sophia opens envelope and reads the message. Sophia: The title of this play has been changed. We appologize for any inconvenience this may present at this obviously late date, but it was truly unavoidable. The play is no longer The World Is A Pointy Stick it is now The Word Is A Pointy Stick Good night, and thank you for your cooperation. Lights fade. Lights fade. FINIS