Etiquette and Vitriol by Nicky Silver (classic fiction .txt) 📗

It was a Sunday, and I believed in God then. It was very foggy. And then . . . out of nowhere, out of the bushes by the side of the road, this very little boy . . . who was also very ugly, appeared on a little red tricycle. My father, who was a bad driver, as well as being ugly, swerved to avoid him. . . . The next thing I remember, we were very still. Somehow the car was upside down and my father’s eyes were looking at me, but there was blood all over his face and my mother’s head was turned in a way that I knew her neck was broken.

VIVIAN (Weakening): My.

TONY (Believing it himself at this point): I thought I was dead. I assumed it. And I think, maybe, for a time, I was. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital. I was covered with bandages. They told me my parents were killed. But I couldn’t cry. Or move. Or see. . . . Or feel!

VIVIAN (Going to him): I’m so sorry.

TONY (Retreating behind the sofa): Don’t patronize me!

VIVIAN: I’m not.

TONY: I was in the hospital for months. I had surgery after surgery. They fixed my bones and my flesh and my face. But I was sick with something more than just my injuries. I was guilty because I had lived and my parents had died. . . . After a year, they removed my bandages to reveal what they’d made. And I saw the new me. And I saw that I was beautiful. So I set out to remake myself and discover the world. I resolved to live for pleasure at all costs. To please myself, physically, and make use of the miracle to which I was a witness.

VIVIAN (Joining him, behind the sofa): That’s very touching.

TONY: There is nothing but physical pleasure.

VIVIAN: I disagree.

TONY: Because you haven’t known any.

VIVIAN: But what about rational thought and ideology?

TONY: Abstractions!

VIVIAN: But don’t you think a set of aesthetics and intellectual criteria—

TONY (Taking her): They don’t compare to two hot, sweaty bodies writhing and pounding away at each other in a fit of hot, wet, animal lust!

VIVIAN: Please!

TONY: Trust me!

VIVIAN: Your hot breath is wilting my resolve.

TONY: Take off your glasses.

VIVIAN: I won’t be a cliché.

TONY: Then leave ’em on. What the hell.

VIVIAN: I’m engaged.

TONY (Kissing her neck): You smell like Hershey’s Kisses.

VIVIAN: I have some in my pocket, would you like one?

TONY: No!!

VIVIAN: What are you doing?

TONY: Licking your neck!

VIVIAN: I was afraid that was it.

TONY: Admit you enjoy it.

VIVIAN: I’m engaged to be married!

TONY: You said that.

VIVIAN: No I didn’t. “To be married” was new.

TONY: Don’t speak.

VIVIAN: Why are you doing this?

TONY: Don’t think about why!

VIVIAN (Writhing): Oh God.

TONY: You’re a beautiful woman!

VIVIAN: Compared to what?

TONY: Others in the room.

VIVIAN: Please stop!!

TONY (Kissing her repeatedly, lowering himself): You have beautiful shoulders.

VIVIAN: They hold up my arms.

TONY: What lovely breasts!

VIVIAN: They hold up my nipples.

TONY: And what perfect nipples!

VIVIAN: They don’t hold anything up—well, occasionally, my blouse.

TONY: They’re fantastic!

VIVIAN: They’re fine. They’re nice, they’re fine. I’ve always liked them.

TONY: They’re spectacular!

VIVIAN: The left one’s nice. I hate the right.

TONY (Lower): And a tiny waist!!

VIVIAN: Oh God! It’s suddenly as warm in here as the ninth circle of Dante’s inferno!

TONY (Disappearing behind the sofa): AND A DELICIOUS—

VIVIAN: OH MY GOD!!!

TONY (Out of sight): A banquet!! A feast!!

VIVIAN (Sinking out of sight): AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

TONY: Let go! Just let yourself go!!

VIVIAN: OH GOD! WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME!? IT’S SO WARM!! IT’S VERY, VERY—

(Tony’s head pops up, Vivian’s panties in his teeth. He spits them out.)

OH GOD—THERE! THERE! YES, RIGHT THERE! DON’T STOP! NEVER! NEVER STOP! MAKE LOVE TO ME! YES! YES! YES! MAKE LOVE TO MEEEEE!!!

(Amy is enjoying this very much. Philip enters.)

PHILIP: VIVIAN!!

(Amy draws the curtain on Act I. We hear “Let’s Misbehave.”)

ACT II

ETIQUETTE & VITRIOL

SCENE 1

As the audience returns, we hear “Do, Do, Do,” recorded by Gertrude Lawrence. As the song ends, Amy opens the chiffon drape, revealing Claire’s bedroom. Claire is alone, seated at her dressing table, adjusting her hair and makeup. She addresses the audience. For Claire, only a moment has passed since she left the stage in Act I.

CLAIRE: I have, for a long time, been a person who tries to see the best in others. I have, always, tried to see the beauty in all things. No matter how grotesque. And I find, more and more, I live in a grotesque world. Isn’t everything ugly all of a sudden? I do not understand, I must admit, what passes for music in this age. But then, I force myself to remember that my mother did not understand my music, and I try to see the beauty in giving in, giving way, like a weeping willow bending gracefully in the inevitable face of gravity. (She glances into the mirror and is momentarily sidetracked)

My mother was a sad woman to begin with, and then, when I was eight years old, she lost a baby. And her sadness became exaggerated to the point of farce.

(Returning to her point) This morning, I went to the dressmaker, to be fitted for a dress. I walked to the shop. It’s not very far and I enjoy what’s left of the fresh air. And I enjoy seeing people. Or I did. You see, more and more people seem to feel it all right to behave anyway they choose. For instance, more and more people seem to be— How shall I put this?—Spitting. I do not approve of this. Sometimes they walk over to the curb and spit into the street, as if this were so much better than spitting in the middle of the pavement. It’s not. And apparently plenty of people feel as I do and they spit right where they are. And not just men, but women too! With hairdos and skirts. Now, I want to see the beauty in all of this, but it’s very