Marathon runner in search of rain

Christmas tale for adults

The cast:
Jack Stockton, a writer
Mark Prescott, a psychiatrist
Barney Goldsmith, a bum
Julia Berger, a secretary in a funeral home
Charles Berger, her husband
Abraham Marcus, a publisher
Maybe Adams, a delivery person in a pizzeria
Slick Frank, a smalltime crook
Patricia Champain, a widow
A policeman


Act 1

A room in Jack Stockton's apartment-something between a living-room, an office and a bedroom. A sofa, a couple of armchairs, a work table with a computer and a bunch of manuscripts on it, and a little bitty table nearby with bottles and glasses on it.
There are two people present: Jack Stockton, wearing old jeans and a sweater is unshaven, worn out and unkempt. Mark Prescott is elegant, strict and very attentive. Just to be on the safe side it would make sense to mention that today is the first day of Christmas.
JULIA'S VOICE, ON THE ANSWERING MACHINE: Hello, honey! Tonight is Christmas night and you are God knows where. Sorry! I shouldn't talk that way. I realize that if I were with you we would be God knows where for sure! No, that's not right...We would be sitting by the Christmas tree, listening to the snow falling...In the mountains, on you favorite ranch, like you always wanted. I don't need to explain anything to you, Jack, you know perfectly well why I can't be with you tonight But I swear that we SHALL spend next Christmas together.
JACK: I've been hearing these for five years now.
MARK: You ARE a living monument to equanimity, Jack. I would have killed this stupid thing after the first message....Er-r, don't look at me like that, I mean the answering machine.
JACK: Here comes her favorite part about our future prospects.
JULIA'S VOICE: I know that you love me and care about me. It's mutual, Jack. I know that you want to be with me. And you'!l get the opportunity. Merry Christmas, honey! You are already aware of my feelings for you. You won't have to wait very long. Take care. Yours, Julia.
MARK: You won't have to wait very long for...what?
JACK: To go crazy, I guess.
MARK: Indeed, I was really touched by her plea to take care. With all due respect and, hmm-m, occasional love for the fair sex, I do have to admit that ladies have quite an original way of evaluating men...
JACK: It seems like you are standing right on the rails not able to move and avoid the train and somebody, who seems to be your... friend keeps screaming, "Be careful, darling" instead of pushing you away from the train.
MARK: Boy, what a comparison! I don't like dealing with people who are smarter than me.. Even if the person in question a. well-known writer.
JACK: Oh, I'm just ...a morning grouch, 1 guess. Anyway, can you imagine a guy who would care about himself? A man has to put his life on the line, go forward, bet and gamble for highest stakes, break through the enemy lines and fight, god damn it, fall down and get up till the day when he falls down for good, and...then... .lets somebody else take care of him.
MARK: The one who is the reason for all the abovementioned?
JACK: I just love dealing with people who are smarter than me. Especially if the person in question is a famous psychiatrist. Ok,.. What's next?
THE VOICE OF ABRAHAM MARCUS: Let's skip the usual greetings, Jack. Let me look in my notebook, so I won't forget anything. Ok, I personally called you 18 times within the last week. My people tried to reach you at home 7 times just to be on the safe side and see whether a certain manuscript exists in reality, not only in your head. Of course, you were not at home. Being quite upset I searched through all local lowlife bars where you usually spend you working days, but I failed to find you there either. I'm far from thinking that you are finally sober and working, but something inside me, maybe the remains of my stupid belief in Good tells me that you are not only alive, but still have a modicum of common sense left in you.
JACK: Quite a well-known psychological phenomenon, ain't that right, Mark? An average, normal, not-drinking, considerate man doesn't seem to be interesting to anybody. But as soon as he takes a little step away from the path of righteousness...
MARK: Yeah, for example starts drinking... How long ago did you take this step, Jack?
JACK: About two months ago. You might say that the last week before Christmas completely disoriented me. Where is the forest, where is the field, or the fence, or the oak-tree... Yeah, right. We are getting away from the subject, should we listen to some more?
THE VOICE OF ABRAHAM MARCUS: I hope this message will reach the ears of the creative Jack, but I still have to remind you that you have only two months left before the deadline for your novel. Nine weeks, Jack. If you don't get the novel to the publishing house by that time, nothing, I repeat nothing, not your genius, your fame, your threats to change publishers not even your promises to create unprecedented masterpiece will save you. And don't try to stretch my patience for I don't have any left. Marry Christmas, Jack!
MARK: Is there anything else?
JACK: Yeah, my brother is kindly asking me not to appear on my ranch for the next two weeks. It's like a family tradition -he spends his Christmas holidays on my ranch. I can't be there, for some strange reason. My mom wishes me Merry Christmas and tells me to take care of myself. How touching! Everything else is a load of crap. An invitation to a party... Friends of mine, I guess, but I don't remember them. Two or three completely unknown voices...Women. No, nothing to waste your expensive time on.
MARK: It sure is, and besides, you've got to pay double on holidays, as well as for the house call...
JACK: I'll pay!
MARK: Stop it, Jack. It's my pleasure to be of help to modern literature not to mention that I'm a fan of yours. Whatever comes out of your head is no less interesting than any serious scientific article.
JACK: You are a flatterer, Mark. Should I abandon all this and ...go into science? How about a drink with the future Nobel laureate in biology?
MARK: It doesn't fully conform to the customs of mine-to start drinking this early...
JACK: Early?! It's half past one!
MARK: Nevertheless, I would rather drink in honor of the future Nobel laureate in literature. According to my preliminary estimations, you'll receive the Nobel prize by the age of sixty, if, of course, you can stay in the saddle that long. Jack pours the drinks.
JACK: ... In the saddle... Merry Christmas, Mark!
MARK: Tell me, why on the first day of Christmas instead of enjoying simple family values I'm sitting here, drinking whiskey, which I hate...
JACK: You should have told me that before. I've got some tequila...
MARK: ...listening to the mumbling of a man who looks like a complete bum, but is in fact the best writer in
our great country for the last quarter of a century?...
JACK: So, you think so too...I might surmise that the whole situation has a lot to do with money, but you've objected to the idea already so....Aha, I got it! You were going to contribute to the development of modern literature.
MARK: I'm interested in your case, Jack Stockton. Indeed, I'm interested in all such cases. The paradox is that the more civilized a person is, the higher he or she is on the social ladder, the more chance he has of becoming a victim of foolish circumstances. Why? A ragged bum will spend a winter night in a ditch, just as happy as he can possibly be and at the some time some super rich guy, smoking his cigar in Hawaii may easily catch pneumonia from a little draft. The man who is constantly fighting for his mere existence needs no shrink. He understands perfectly well that if he starts analyzing his thoughts or, what is even more dreadful, surrenders to his passions-he is finished. What I want to know is-why such a great and prosperous writer as Jack Stockton, rich and famous by the way and not by any standards old or crippled, isn't spending time with a beautiful woman somewhere in Colorado, working on his novel, not even, God forbids, sitting in a church, anything, rather than sitting in his apartment getting ratassed on whiskey.
JACK: That's a hard one to figure. I'd like to know ,too.
MARK: Let me tell you this, Jack. You're possessed. You were probably hoping that I'd call you crazy.
Well, I hate to disappoint you- you are absolutely normal, at least for the moment. The peculiarity of your nature is that you have to live on the edge. That could refer to anything. To booze. To loneliness. To writing To love. I don't see any difference. What I just mentioned can be in any order. If the situation is not favorable enough you would generate it artificially. What, it's obligatory for a writer? If so, then I feel sorry for you. Your relatives? I'm sure, they're nice people. They are bothering you? That's natural-you are the best of them all. Who 's to blame for your loneliness if not you? Millions of women all over the world weep, reading your books. I can not possibly imagine that not a single of them can bring a little light in your world.
JACK: Such a woman exists, and you know it.
MARK: I see it's painful for you but I have to warn you -you are wrong. Your phone- angel-Julia- she doesn't exist, you made her up. You love her. She loves you. But at the same time she doesn't leave her husband for you and won't let you get close to her either. Why? You are a great guy, Jack, of course not in your present condition. What a pity, I'm not a pretty woman. The answer is simple and you know it. She is satisfied with your relations. It's pleasant to be intimate with a famous writer, but....you could drink all the whiskey in the world, lie down on the trails, by the way, it seems to me that we have considered this
possibility already, she still wouldn't come. By the way, who is her husband? Judging by how stubbornly she resists you he must be a millionaire.
JACK: A clerk in some company.
MARK: Aha! And her?
JACK: A secretary in the funeral home.
MARK: Would you mind if I had a drink? No, no tequila please, whiskey would be fine. What about you?
No?... well...cheers, then. You are a very interesting man, Jack. The story of your life is way more fantastic than any of your novels. For a long time I couldn't understand where you get all these stories. I never suspected that the only thing need is to make your life as complicated as possible and look in the mirror...
All right, so you marry her, and what next? Eternal happiness? But where would you find stimulation then and what affect would it have on your relations with her? Have you thought of that? You know, you remind me those weirdoes who walk all the way to the North Pole just to "test themselves" as they say. But why should you turn yourself inside out and rid yourself of everything if you are already number one? You are the world champion in marathon run. Stop chasing the rain and start running in good weather along a nice path in the forest by the lake down to the hills! A marathon runner in search of rain-that's what you are, Jack! You have to stop!
JACK: You have to help me.
MARK: How?
JACK: I want to forget everything and become a completely new man.
MARK: I'm no pro at brain-washing.
JACK: Some guys from the Pentagon-of course this should stay between us- once whispered in my ear that you can hypnotize a person in such a way that he considers himself ...somebody else.
MARK: Good grief, I always thought that literary folks were no better drinkers than military officials...! was so wrong...
JACK: You know the phrase: "You'll get your chance soon enough"? Why the hell should I need a beautiful future if I don't have a life now? I've always counted only on myself and preferred to break through the walls rather than to look for a door. Maybe that's why I've always succeeded. This love... I can't break up with her, I can't go on living like this, waiting for a woman who, you are absolutely right, will never become a part of my life, who has made a shadow out of me. My work,., pretty much everything is collapsing, nothing is working right, I stopped comprehending what's going on. I mean, how can you hunt If your gun sight is screwed up? Who should you shoot at and who should you hug? I won't be able to crawl out of this pit by myself. At least not as quickly as necessary. I don't have much time, I've got to finish the novel. That's why it occurred to me that you might be able to suggest to my subconscious that I'm not Jack Stockton, a writer, but, say a stable-hand on somebody's ranch, and than bring me back to my old self after a month. As far as I know the effect is great. An absolutely new world full of brave new sensations. A new life!
MARK: But why a stable-hand?
JACK: Closer to nature...
MARK: ...No, that won't do. You've been misinformed about my modest possibilities. If you can not cope with it by yourself like a man, try a clinic, there is a lot of them around these days with full confidentiality and excellent professionals. As for the mass media... well you can just as well inform them that you are planning to spend some time in the Bahamas. And after the treatment come back, being a new Jack Stockton. I'm sure you'll manage it.
JACK: I'm begging you, Mark!!!...
MARK: I'm sorry, my friend but my time is rather limited.
A long buzz at the doorbell.
JACK: Who in the world that could be?
MARK: I hope you'll see me to the door, Jack?
Another buzz, more persistent this time.
JACK: Definitely, Mark. I'll just have a look at this impudent fellow at the door.
Jack leaves the room.
MARK: Who knows, maybe this is an opportunity that shouldn't be neglected? Of course I can make him think that he is a stable hand. Than what? Whenever he starts feeling like Jack Stockton again he'll be back to his old tricks. How can a person loose his mind?... Well we help ourselves to become loonies. Look back over your life and you'll understand what drove you into the nuthouse. But at the same time the whole thing could be...could be so interesting. He is not an ordinary person. He is trying to resist the natural course of events. In this case the result is simply unpredictable. Maybe I should try? But what would happen to the world literature? Ah, no regrets it's in big trouble anyway.
There is a sound of a scuffle and then a body falling on the other side of the wall. Enter Jack, dragging Barney Goldsmith.
JACK: Give me a hand, Mark.
Mark helps Jack. Together they finally get Barney on the sofa. Their newcomer is unshaven, wearing old jeans and a crumpled sweater.
MARK: Who is it?
JACK: I don't know. What's wrong with him? Would it be the result of an unfortunate fall?
MARK: It could be the result of being drunk, I guess.
JACK: How peculiar. Can you revive him?
MARK: Easy peasy.
Mark pours some whiskey into a glass and starts moving it around the newcomer's nose. Sensing the smell of alcohol the man starts coming back to life, trying to grab the glass. Mark puts the glass away. The newcomer opens his eyes.
MARK: Who are you?
BARNEY: What a pleasure to see you, gentlemen on the first day of, Chr..., Christmas.
JACK: How did you get here?
BARNEY: My buddy, Slick Frank, even though 1 do suspect that he ain't no Frank at all, but sure is slick as hell... I'm sure, you know him, sir, everybody does Anyway, Frank told me that a famous writer, Mr. Stockton, lives in this place. He read some of his books when he could allow himself a pleasure, and them books sure were great, that's what I was supposed to tell the guy. So, he, like, told me to visit him. Wanted to go himself but he wasn't dressed in the proper fashion
MARK: And you are dressed in the proper fashion?
BARNEY: More or less, sir, more or less. Frank asked me to wish him Merry Christmas and every of success. Even if this writer guy is greedy as hell which I would doubt, he wouldn't pay less than ten bucks for those greetings and we would definitely use the money-drink to his health. So, here I'm. I'm being 100% frank with you, gentlemen. I hope that you appreciate it.
JACK: How did you manage to get past the security?
BARNEY: I waved and he nodded, that's all there was to it.
MARK: Excellent!!! (to Barney) What's your name, sir?
BARNEY: Are you talking to me?
MARK: To you, who else should I be talking to?
BARNEY: It's Barney, sir. Barney Goldsmith. Are you Mr. Stockton?
MARK: This is Mr. Stockton. I'm Mr. Prescott. It's a pleasure to meet you, Barney. Make yourself at home. Have a drink.
BARNEY: With great pleasure, sir. Cause, you know, my mind was beginning to clear up in a suspicious way.
MARK: Jack! Can I have a word with you?
Barney starts fooling around with the bottles. Mark and Jack step aside.
JACK: What is this all about? Why the hell should I share my whiskey with this bum??? I don't have enough for myself.
MARK: Why do you think, the guard didn't stop him?
JACK: How should I know? Maybe they have some sort of giveaway sale type thing because of Christmas?
Anyway...He should have called me.
MARK: When the guard saw him he nodded as if he was a friend. Why is that?
JACK: Enough questions. Answer them yourself. You are the shrink.
MARK: Ok, let's try to look at it from a different angle. What would you say if somebody offered to make
up this guy so that he would look like you? Look at him closely.
Jack looks at Barney, then approaches the mirror and stares at his reflection.
JACK: Good Lord!
MARK: Now you understand why the guard let him in? You two are like twins, he took him for you. Of course if you are shaved, washed and wearing a tuxedo the similarity disappears. But in the shape you are in... You asked for help. I'll help you. But only on one condition- you'll do exactly what I say.
JACK: I agree.
MARK: This is what I've decided. You are way too well-known a figure. Your sudden disappearance will be definitely noticed by mass media, your publisher...funeral home, for Christ's sake. Somebody might even try to find you. In this case the whole idea will be ruined. Somebody has to stand in for you while you are away. And at just the right moment Barney Goldsmith turns up. This guy was sent by God! I'll make him think that he is Jack Stockton and he'll take care of the things while you are away.
JACK: He'll wreck the whole place!!!
MARK: If you haven't already!.. And you'll come with me and become a stable hand, or a gardener or a bum or whatever you want. In a month will switch you two back. I'll watch each of you closely and stop the experiment if anything goes wrong, so you don't need to worry about it. Do you accept my plan?
JACK: Yes.
MARK: Then, let's begin.(to Barney) How do you feel, mr.Goldsmith?
BARNEY: Great, sir. Just like home, if not to mention that I never had one.
MARK: Excellent, Barney. I like that open hearted approach of yours. I do hope that our little chat will further flow in the same direction. How would you react to our wanting to learn a bit more about you?
BARNEY: Great idea, sir! (to the side) You were wrong, buddy-Frank, this whole thing is starting to smell more like a$ 100
MARK: How old are you?
BARNEY: Forty two.
MARK: You look older.
BARNEY: Life is a fight between two unequal rivals, sir. You take damage faster than you can react to it.
Keep yourself together, don't let them knock you down and wait for the moment when you can slip in a punch yourself-that's my credo.
MARK: Good deal, old friend! Where do you live?
BARNEY: Wherever I can.
MARK: Do you have a family?
BARNEY: I guess I had one, since I'm siting in front of you at the moment, trying to contribute to this exciting chat, but...I don't know.
MARK: Are you married?
BARNEY: Goodness gracious, no! Marriage destroys feelings, demolishes passion. A beautiful facade with ruins behind it, that's marriage. An affair, a bright one-this is what I like, if I have a little change in my pocket. As you can easily understand sir, the duration of my adventures corresponds to my abilities-they never last long. A day or maybe two and then I'm ready for anew life. It's very inspiring!
MARK: Do you hear that, Jack? (to Barney) Have you ever studied at a university? Lost a prestigious job?
I've been left by a beloved woman? Had your property sold at auction?
BARNEY: No, no and no!
MARK: So, you are not burdened by any emotional stresses?
BARNEY: Not that I know of, sir. How else could I survive in this world?
MARK: All right, Barney! Mr. Stockton and I would like you to do us a favor and it's obvious that we need to know who we're dealing with. So forgive me for this interrogation.
BARNEY: I'm a decent man!
MARK: I don't doubt it, Mr. Goldsmith. If you were a crook we wouldn't be proposing what we are about to propose. The thing is Mr. Stockton has to leave for a couple of days. What we need is a trustworthy person to look after the house while he is not around.
BARNEY: And you are proposing this to me?
MARK: Exactly.
BARNEY: In my circumstances you have to agree immediately and not ask why. But I'll ask anyway.
MARK: You've already answered it; you are a decent man.
BARNEY: You guys aren't a couple of faggots by any chance?
MARK: Would I disappoint you, Barney, if I said no?
BARNEY: What about Frank? Would he be able to come here?
MARK: Frank and whoever. You are the master of the house so it'll be up to you to decide who to invite. There is plenty of food in the fridge. Whiskey in the bar. Water in the bathroom. I think Mr. Stockton's clothes will fit you perfectly. You are welcome to wear any of them. You'll be provided with a sum of money for looking after the place, and you can manage it in the way you wish. Do you agree? I don't hear any answer, Barney.
BARNEY: YES!!! Yes... What do I have to do?
MARK: First of all, listen to my recommendations. As for you, Jack, it would make sense if you took sit too.
Jack sits down on the sofa.
MARK: Make yourself comfortable, guys. Relax, forget the troubles of the outer world. Today is Christmas-the brightest and merriest holiday of all. The snow falling down from heaven is a good omen sent by God. There is a marvelous Christmas tree smell in the air. The logs are cracking in the fireplace. And silence. Silence... Absolute silence... You are finally experiencing the moment of rest, the moment of truth. You have found peace in yourself, in each other and in the whole world. Do you feel despair and angst leaving your souls? Love, overflowing your hearts? You are dissolved in this love. You have stopped being yourself. You are a part of everything and everything is a part of you. You are them and they are you. Jack and Barney lean back on the sofa and fall asleep.
MARK: What is this? What is this music? This is the music from heaven. It carries you back to the roots, to the beginning of the beginning where there is nothing and the timid stream of life is just beginning under a fern leaf. Jack Stockton! I take you back to the beginning of your new life. From now on your name is Barney Goldsmith. You are forty two years old. You have no family, no job no place to live. You are intelligent, inventive, trustworthy and friendly. You love life and still have a hope to succeed in it. And you will! Barney Goldsmith, it you hear me, please raise and then lower your right hand.
Jack Stockton raises and lowers his hand.
MARK: Excellent, Barney...