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

Oscar was for—

PHYLLIS: Bishop—

BISHOP (Out): M-m-m, was for—

PHYLLIS: Stop it, Bishop! (Out) Bishop can be quite the little show-off. (To Bishop) No one is interested. No one cares. And if they do, they can buy one of three thousand books currently in print about her.

BISHOP: Yes, Mother.

PHYLLIS: Thank you.

BISHOP (Out): Morning Glory!!

PHYLLIS: There’s no telling how long we’re going to be here, so please try to behave.

BISHOP: I’m hungry.

PHYLLIS: Don’t think about it.

BISHOP: What should I th-th-think about?

PHYLLIS: Don’t you realize how lucky you are to be alive?

BISHOP: No.

PHYLLIS: Well, you are very lucky.

BISHOP: Oh.

PHYLLIS: Everyone else was killed.

BISHOP: I know.

PHYLLIS: They weren’t so lucky.

BISHOP: Lucky me.

PHYLLIS: That’s right.

BISHOP: I’m l-l-lucky. And I’m hungry.

PHYLLIS: Oh, dig for clams.

BISHOP: I d-d-don’t like clams.

PHYLLIS: Have you ever had clams?

BISHOP: No.

PHYLLIS: Then, how do you know you don’t like them?

BISHOP: They look like snot.

PHYLLIS: Not clams casino.

BISHOP: I’m sorry.

PHYLLIS: You’re giving me a headache, Bishop.

BISHOP: I’m sorry.

PHYLLIS: Can’t you go play with the dead bodies or something?

You’re eleven, you should like that sort of thing.

BISHOP (Out): There were magazines in the cockpit, with p-p-pictures of naked boys doing things to each other.

PHYLLIS (Out): Probably why we crashed.

BISHOP: I’m hungry.

PHYLLIS: You said that.

BISHOP: I’m s-s-sorry.

PHYLLIS: Try to say new things.

BISHOP: I’m st-t-tarving.

PHYLLIS: Interesting things.

BISHOP: I’m famished.

PHYLLIS: I should be dead now. I tell myself I should be dead or in Italy.

BISHOP: I’m h-h-h—

PHYLLIS: Bishop!

BISHOP: Thirsty.

PHYLLIS: Oh, I’ll go look for food. Hold my shoes. They’re ruined at this point, but the last thing I need is to lose a heel.

(Phyllis hands Bishop her shoes and exits over the dune. Bishop addresses the audience.)

BISHOP: I d-d-didn’t mind crashing. Really. It was ek-ek-ek— cool. I’m lucky. We were s-s-spinning and spinning and it was just like being in a movie. K-k-katharine Hepburn played an avi-av-av—lady pilot in the movie Christopher Strong. It was never turned into a musical. I am Bishop Hogan. Th-that is my name, I am not a deacon of the church. I’m eleven. My father is famous. He hates Mother. He sleeps with the young girls in his m-m-movies.

(Howard enters from the wings.)

HOWARD (Out): That’s not true.

BISHOP (Out): He doesn’t love my mother and he doesn’t love m-m-me.

HOWARD (Out): She tells him these things—

BISHOP (Out): He’s ob-bsessed with his work.

HOWARD (Out): To assuage her guilt over a failing marriage and to alienate my son from me.

BISHOP (Out): He’s self-absorbed.

HOWARD (Out): Her words.

BISHOP (Out): The only reason I have any friends at all, is b-b-because I give them Arcky dolls.

HOWARD (Out): She fills his head with lies.

BISHOP (Out): Arcky was the extrat-t-terrestrial in my father’s movie.

HOWARD (Out): They know Arcky. Everybody knows Arcky. Everybody loves him. (Out) They used him in the Pepsi- Cola commercials.

BISHOP: Why don’t you love Mommy?

HOWARD (Out): Who said I didn’t?

BISHOP: She did.

HOWARD: Oh.

BISHOP: Wh-wh-why?

HOWARD: She’s overbearing.

BISHOP: What’s that?

HOWARD: It’s complicated.

PAM (Offstage): Hoowwaardd?

BISHOP: Do you think we’re d-d-dead?

HOWARD: I haven’t thought about it yet.

PAM (Offstage): Hoowwwaarrddd!

HOWARD: Excuse me.

(Howard exits. Phyllis enters.)

PHYLLIS: There is nothing.

BISHOP: Oh?

PHYLLIS: Not so much as a coconut. Oh, give me those, I feel frumpish. This island is a parking lot. (She takes the shoes)

BISHOP: I’m hungry.

PHYLLIS: I know.

BISHOP: Do you think Daddy thinks we’re dead?

PHYLLIS (Bright): Let’s talk about sleeping arrangements. Shall we?

BISHOP: I bet he’s c-c—worried.

PHYLLIS: It’ll be night soon.

BISHOP: He’s crying. I bet.

PHYLLIS: Can you build a lean-to?

BISHOP: I miss Daddy.

PHYLLIS: Can you build a lean-to, or a hut, or something?

BISHOP: Do you miss D-d-daddy?

PHYLLIS: Can you, Bishop, build a lean-to?

BISHOP: Of course not.

PHYLLIS: What do you mean, of course not?

BISHOP: I mean I can’t.

PHYLLIS: Don’t be negative. Why can’t you?

BISHOP: Because I can’t.

PHYLLIS: That’s no attitude. How do you know you can’t? You have to try and find out that you can’t.

BISHOP: Daddy c-c-could build a lean-to. He could build a split-level twin dwelling.

PHYLLIS: Do not mention your father again tonight.

BISHOP: I’m s-s-sorry. (Out) Katharine Hepburn made Philadelphia Story in n-n-n-nineteen-forty-one. After being labeled box-office poison.

PHYLLIS: I’m ignoring that. Now. What will you need to build a lean-to?

BISHOP: I can’t build a lean-to!

PHYLLIS: Why not?!

BISHOP: Because I’m hungry!!

PHYLLIS: Don’t raise your voice to me!

BISHOP: I’m s-s-sorry.

PHYLLIS: I realize you’re frightened—

BISHOP: I’m hungry—

PHYLLIS: And hungry.

BISHOP: You hate me and you wish I was dead.

PHYLLIS: What a terrible thing to say.

BISHOP: Why won’t you feed me?

PHYLLIS: Eat seaweed.

BISHOP: I’m not Chinese.

PHYLLIS: I thought you were hungry?

BISHOP: It’s poison.

PHYLLIS: It’s sushi.

BISHOP: It’s creepy.

PHYLLIS: Eat rocks, eat sand—oh, hand me my purse.

(He does so.)

Here. Eat lipstick. It’s not poison.

BISHOP: Thank you. (He eats it)

PHYLLIS (Out): He was always a picky eater. As a baby, Bishop threw up everything five minutes after he ate it. Tell you the truth, I thought he was bulimic.

BISHOP: Done!

PHYLLIS: You didn’t save me any?

BISHOP: I didn’t think you l-l-liked lipstick.

PHYLLIS: That’s not the point.

BISHOP: I’m sorry.

PHYLLIS (Bright): Now. What will you need to build a lean-to?

BISHOP: M-m-mother?

PHYLLIS: You can get supplies from the wreckage—

BISHOP: M-m-mother?

PHYLLIS: You can build here, with a southern exposure and a view of the sea—

BISHOP: M-m-mother!

PHYLLIS: That’ll be lovely—

BISHOP: Mommy!

PHYLLIS: What is it?

BISHOP: I’m still hungry.

PHYLLIS: You just ate a whole lipstick.

BISHOP: We’re going to starve to death, aren’t we?

PHYLLIS: Don’t be ridiculous. I have lots of lipsticks. (Out) Different colors for different outfits.

BISHOP: You can’t live on lipstick.

PHYLLIS: I don’t see why not.

BISHOP: It has no v-v-vitamins.

PHYLLIS: We’ll fish.

BISHOP: We have no t-t-tackle.

PHYLLIS: We’ll hunt.

BISHOP: We’re going to starve to death!!

PHYLLIS: We’ll trim down!

BISHOP: I’m thin now!

PHYLLIS: Five pounds, and you’ll be amazed at how clothing hangs off of you!

BISHOP: You don’t care.

PHYLLIS: Please, I’m tired, I’m irritated and I have sand in my stockings! Try to cooperate. Now, if the lean-to faces this way, the morning sun will get in my eyes—

BISHOP: WE’RE GOING TO DIE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!

WE’RE GOING TO STARVE TO DEATH!! WE’LL DIE!!

PHYLLIS: ALL RIGHT!! All right. Hand me my purse.

(He does so. She pulls out a huge butcher’s knife.)

Here’s a knife. Now. Go back to the plane and cut the arm off that nun. Bring it back here and I’ll