Place: The Mediterranean Sea
Time: Undefined, but it seems as if the sun hasn’t shone for quite some time.
Characters: The host of the feast, his wife and the cook “Eel”.
· There’s a purse on the floor and some objects which were brought along from their house.
* * * * *
In the deep blue, they sat down holding their breath. They were biting their fingers out of hunger. No, not hunger. It was rather due to this habit they carried with them from earth and which was caused then by the feeling of repression, a self-repression.
They, suddenly, noticed that they weren’t holding their break and so they did it all over again.
Worst of all, there was no clock to point out the seconds ticking in their ears. It was just silence. A deadly silence.
– The feast host: and the hat? Where’s the hat? N… No… I… oh my god… oh my god.
– The wife: (speaking with an exaggerated astonishment at the same time when her husband utters “Oh my god”).
Oh my god! You forgot it… it’s alright!!!!
– The feast host: And the invited guests? How can I receive the guests without a hat?
– The wife: it’s okay. You still have the necktie.
– The feast host: A necktie?? (looking at his necktie). But the tie isn’t for receptions.
– The wife: Really? Then why do you thinks neckties were made if it wasn’t for formal receptions and occasions.
– The feast host: A necktie… A necktie… to tie my neck with. Whereas a hat is… different.
– The wife: How’s that?
– The feast host: How’s that? I will explain for you how is that. Have you ever seen the three musketeers without hats on their heads? No. Have you ever seen the three musketeers saluting their guests without respectfully taking off their hats? No. The hat has always been a way to greet people around us or else… why do we greet them. Over the ages, the hat went through many variations of colors and shapes, but the greeting still needs a hat.
What will I take off my head now so that I can bow?
How will I be able to welcome my guests without a hat?
How will I say to the great tunnel minister: “I welcome you and your tunnels and your labyrinths”, without my hat?
What will I do when all my guests will take off their own hats to respond… Hold on, hold on, hold on… how will they take off their hats if I don’t have one to be taken off in the first place? They won’t take them off. There won’t be a greeting between us. They shall wait and wait for me to take off my own hat and say “good evening”, “how do you do?”, “you’re most welcome in our dome”, but I won’t be able to say all of this. And the result would be that they shall pile up at the door like garbage bags and there won’t be a feast…
Damn you and damn everything that made you make me forget my hat. How on earth would you forget my hat?
Everybody wears hats nowadays and even the delivery guy who delivered us the pizza yesterday was wearing an American cap.
– The wife: yes, that’s true but he didn’t take it off when he greeted us.
– The feast host: (thinking for a while) how can he take off his hat while holding the Pepperoni Pizza which we ordered in his both hands?
– The wife: oh!… but he could’ve held the Pepperoni Pizza in his right hand and greeted us with his left hand; but he didn’t because there’s simply no need for that. Do you get what I mean?
– The feast host: no I don’t.
– The wife: Fine. Ok.
– The feast host: D’accord.
[………………]
In the deep blue, they sat down holding their breath. They searched for the memory of a hat way under, yet there was no sign of it.
They left it there on earth. They placed it on a berry tree, decorating the traffic lights and tossing it on the floor at the doorstep of their homes. They left it there, so that the earth wouldn’t feel lonely after they’re gone.
– The wife: I feel cold…
– The feast host: (taking off his pull over and giving it to her)
Take my pull over. (she wears it). Do you feel warm now???
– The wife: (looking up) I think it’s raining.
(Each one of them takes an umbrella and opens it while the water bubbles go out of their months).
– The feast host: Darling, do you know that you’re my one & only love?
– The wife: Eel, (with a high pitch) where’s the bluefish?
– Eel: It must be coming.
– The feast host: And the universe with its majesty and greatness existed so that we meet and wear hats, so that we salute those around us and eat, eat and eat to an extent where our room is bloated so it falls out of the window which overlooks a vast world. A world with 28 alphabet letters and gods and hats… a world…
– The wife: A world without a wall to lean on. That’s better. In the sea, there’s no wall. Eel (with a high pitch), where’s the bluefish?
– Eel: It must be coming.
– The feast host: The guests are late. Maybe there’s traffic. Maybe they got lost. And that’s a normal thing to happen in a world of 28 alphabet letters, a world where we preserve ourselves as prisoners of a past and hats and greetings and bows, a world…
– The wife: …without a wall. That’s the sea world where there’s no wall for us to hang our pictures and our degrees, so that we don’t hang a mirror which reflects our underclothes and mossy green grass. Eel (with a high pitch) where’s the bluefish?
– Eel: It must be coming.
– The feast host: Maybe the bluefish lost its way too. And that’s a normal thing to happen in a world of 28 alphabet letters which are toyed with and thrown like a spray by many populations just like we throw our own hats in each happy or sad occasion and which happen to be so many in a world…
(Eel still trying to fish with his fishing rod).
– Eel: It must be com…(some fish gets caught in his rod so he turns it towards the wife).
(A frozen atmosphere takes place in the deep end of the sea, the fish still moves).
– The wife: The feast host and Eel (together):
Excuse me but are you a bluefish?
– The feast host: Have you seen my hat?
– The wife: Because if you were a bluefish then I must feel the desire to eat you… excuse me, are you really a bluefish?
(The fish still moves; Eel moves his fishing rod upwards, exactly like fishermen would do on earth, then he catches the fish in his hands while it is still moving).
– Eel: Because if you were a bluefish you must breathe your last now…
– The feast host: If you’ve seen my hat, will you tell me before you breathe your last?
(Eel squeezes the fish between his fingers and then frees it. The fish is still alive and it’s hanging at the rod so it starts moving away. Eel follows it.
The host and his wife follow too. They all move forward and the fish seems to be at the lead).
In the deep blue, they sat down holding their breath. They searched for the memory of a hat and their underclothes and some mossy green grass way under.
Deep in the sea, a water drop cries the sand on which they step, leaving behind their footsteps and some bleeding bubbles.
[……………..]
– The wife: No. It can’t be. There can’t be two masters. There must be one master: There is one shoe polishing brush, one apple for both Adam & Eve; there’s also one needle to sew the torn socks and… and… one president and… and… I feel so hot… and… and (Out of a sudden and in an overrated quick manner, the wife takes off her stockings while moaning. The stockings float to the surface).
– The feast host: Let’s fight then.
– Eel: Yes! Let’s.
(Without any hesitation, they began to body wrestle. At times, the wife would go back looking for something in the purse… They would be still wrestling. At other times, they would horizontally float upwards and each one of them would press down the other to nail him against the bottom… During this time, the wife falls down on an electric fan so she starts looking for an electric plug in the bottom of the sea but she doesn’t find any…)
– The wife: (looking for a plug) But where is it? It can’t be ! I can’t believe this! (screaming) Is there no electric plug here?
(The feast host and Eel seizing their fight as a result of the wife’s yelling).
– The wife: (With a sharp tone) Eel, I need an electric plug. Right now!
– Eel: Alright. But I’m the cook!
– The wife: (With a lesser sharp tone, looks at her husband) I need an electric plug.
– The feast host: Yes my love but we’re at the bottom of the sea.
– The wife: But… but, I want an electric plug. I need a plug because I’m extremely hot . So little it matters to me if we’re at the bottom of the sea or on top of clouds… There must be a way to find an electric plug in this place. (she goes back to her search).
(A deadly silence and an icy stillness overrules. With violent gestures yet without any noise, the wife keeps on searching for the plug.
– The feast host: (trying to jump and executing all sorts of trials (or actions) to go up while screaming).
Is there anybody here? Hellooooo! Hellooooo!
Is there no one hearing on the shore? Hellooooo!
Do you read me? Would you please send in an electric plug? Helloooo? Is there any one hearing me??
(No answer from the seashore except for the echo. Again the silence rules. The wife keeps on looking silently with her violent movements).
– The feast host: (screaming again) Hellooooo!
– Eel: No one will hear you.
(The host takes off his clothes and struggles in his under wears to head upwards).
– Eel: But what on earth are you doing?
– The feast host: I’m helping myself to move upwards.
– Eel: While being naked???
– The feast host: But they’re all naked up there. Any ways, I’m not naked.
– Eel: Where??
– The feast host: Up there.
(The wife keeps fetching her plug silently and with violent movements ).
– Eel: Up there? They are not naked at all. In fact, they cover their heads with hats. They tie their necks. They even wrap their waists with pants while they are walking in the shade on the sidewalks…
– The feast host: They walk in the shade so that the sun wouldn’t show their nakedness.
– The wife: Have you found the plug??
– Eel: ( talking to the feast host) And the hat???
(The wife seizes her search)
– The feast host: My hat???
– Eel: When they wear hats up there… so this…so this means that they’re not…
– The wife: (Waving up the electric fan’s wire as if she was trying to gather up (reorganize) her thoughts, then she yells with all her might). The hat, the hat, the hat… it’s always the hat!!! And the plug?
Heyyy! What about the damn plug? It must exist somewhere this damn plug .(she, violently, plugs the electric wire in the ground. Electricity runs everywhere which causes the characters to get an electric shock, so as a result they shiver for a few minutes then they freeze. The fan starts twirling causing turbulence at the bottom of the sea along with a blurry vision; even the characters themselves couldn’t see clearly anymore. At that exact moment, a voice over is heard presenting the voices of the characters).
– The feast host: We should’ve found a solution and none of this would’ve happened.
– The wife: I should’ve felt extremely hungry and I should’ve caught the bluefish and I should’ve remembered all the existing colors and smells on earth, I also should’ve brought my mirror, my underwear and none of this would’ve happened.
– Eel: You shouldn’t have been naked.
– The feast host: When they cover their heads with hats and tie their neck and wrap their waists with pants; they all look identical they all look like naked. No! In fact, they become naked, they’re all naked. I was never naked sir. I’m still wearing my two beauty marks and my three scars; I still have a twisted shoulder and a big bellybutton hole. I’m not naked, I’ve always worn my childhood wounds as a cover for my youth’s shattered glass over my cold fifties skin.
[………………………]
– Eel: Anything, everything!!! (The fan stops twirling. The electricity runs everywhere again). You just say anything, any thing; you wear hats because they hold your thoughts from submerging… any thing will do: the tie prevents your heads from rolling down and some set letters drools from your mouths or even a bluefish or some mossy green grass. Anything, everything. Just fake bolemic thoughts. I think that we should call the invited guests and ask them not to come for there’s not enough food for all of them. They’re bolemic too????
– The wife: Bolemic? What does Bolemic mean?
– Eel: Bolemia is a city.
– The feast host: There’s no feast. Anything, everything (The characters are still motionless).
– The wife: The city of Bolemia.
– Eel: The city of Bolemia lies between bean seeds and the giant’s palace. From North, it’s limited by the milking cow’s bowl. From the South, it’s limited by Lassy’s bones whereas from the East, it’s limited by the genes of Dolly the goat and finally at the West, it’s limited by the helmet of Ham the monkey. Its surface is about five thousand bean seeds whereas its population reaches around two billion and five hundred steps backwards (with a military tone). To the back… hop.
(Once he says “To the back… hop!” the wife and his wife run to embrace each other while kissing so patiently… Whereas Eel remains still).
– Eel: (voice over) In the city of Bolemia, Sam lives in every house’s attics with the bean seed, Cinderella and Snow White and Aladdin and the dwarfs and Pinocchio and Superman. Every wall in Bolemia is entirely covered with a green mossy grass. It’s true the sun hasn’t risen for quite some time, but it rains bluefish everyday.
(The host and his wife are still embracing).
In the city of Bolemia, every man is a feast host looking for his lost hat.
In the city of Bolemia, every women is an awaiting wife for a green mossy grass and bluefish.
The mayor of the city of Bolemia, the feast host, owns the largest fridge an the street, the widest tap water (effective) pipe in the neighborhood. He also, owns the most recent dishwasher in the area, and the most huge juicer which would fit all the fruits in the city along with the biggest stove in the country. He also has the darkest frying pan across the ocean, the deepest serving spoon on earth and the sharpest cutting knife in the universe, but still he doesn’t own a hat and his wife doesn’t have a green mossy grass.
(The host is still embracing and touching his wife but with a more accentuated and violent way).
When the mayor of the city of Bolemia goes to sleep, he dreams every night that his kitchen has disappeared along with his fridge, his tap water pipe, his juicer, his store and his spoon and his knife. He runs out looking for his lost room hence he finds nothing but a hat at his threshold. He tries to catch it, but whenever his own fingers get a bit closer to the hat; it jumps farther to the front. And so he jumps after it. Each time they jump forward, one of his rooms evaporates. Once they reach the last leap where the mayor of the city of Bolemia actually catches the hat, the house entirely vanishes. He holds the hat with both hands. The hat, thus swallows him and spits him in the sea.
(The host and his wife are still seemingly embracing & touching with a higher accentuated and violent manner so that the audience would confuse their hugging and touching into fighting. At that instant, they move from embracing each other to a bare animal sexual intercourse).
He wakes up from his slumber, inspecting everything surrounding him only to find that every thing is still as is. He runs to the kitchen: He still owns the largest fridge on the street, the widest tap water pipe in the neighborhood, and he still has the most effective dishwasher in the area, and the most huge juicer which could fit all the fruits in town and the biggest stove in the country, and the darkest frying pan across the ocean, and the deepest serving spoon on earth, and the sharpest knife there is in the universe. But, he doesn’t own a hat yet and his wife doesn’t have a green mossy grass.
A feeling similar to his morning breath fills him up. He runs to look for his wife, and so he finds her looking for him too. Seemingly, she must’ve been dreaming the same dream.
He embraces her, he kisses her and they start having their intercourse.
What you see in front of you is not making sex nor it is making love. Love cannot be made. What you see in front of you is an execution of the human weakness or a compensation of the human weakness or even an execution of a revenge from the human weakness. What you’re able to witness in front of you is an execution of all illusions: of Cinderella and Sam, of Olive and Pinocchio, of Snow White and Aladdin.
(Every now and then, we can hear the host and his wife increasingly moaning, expressing more pain than pleasure. Their moans reach the peak that precedes the orgasm).
I sometimes wonder whether Adam & Eve really had their first sex out of pleasure or instinct. They may have been fighting over some apple so his raging erected penis accidentally entered her womb and tore it.
I wish it didn’t tear her womb.
(The feast host and his wife reach the peak of their sexual intercourse ; the peak of their ache. Their weary buttocks fall down on the floor soon after they utter their last shrill. Nevertheless, this shrill isn’t necessarily the strongest in the sequence of the increasing moans.)
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