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Rated: 13+ · Script/Play · Thriller/Suspense · #1658916
In a fusion of Beckett and Lovecraft, two fools wait for the coming of their dark God.
Scott: Blonde, clean cut. Cabbie Hat.
Oberon: Tall, dark haired, heavy. Top Hat.

(Open, lights up, Scott and Oberon are seated on a pair of chairs, a box between them. Oberon’s shirt is smeared with blood, he is slouched in his chair.)

Oberon: Dearest Scott, I seem to be covered in blood.

Scott: So you are, good Oberon, are you harmed?

Oberon: Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s mine.

Scott: Have we finished with the lofty Elizabethan English?

Oberon: It would seem so.

Scott: That’s good, it gets tedious quickly.

Oberon: So, what comes today?

Scott: He comes today.

Oberon: Who?

Scott: Cthulhu.

Oberon: I don’t think he’s going to come today, brother. We’ve waited, and waited and waited, and seen nothing.

Scott: (looking into the audience) Is he out there?

Oberon: (squinting) No, all I see out there is more nothings.

Scott: Perhaps. None of them look like the unknowable horror we’re expecting.

Oberon: How are we expecting it if it’s unknowable?

Scott: What?

Oberon: How does one expect the unknowable?

Scott: I don’t know, faith?

Oberon: Faith? Faith in what?

Scott: That which we cannot understand, just know that he loves us.

Oberon: Cthulhu loves us?

Scott: I doubt it.

Oberon: Then why are we here?

Scott: Because it’s written that way.

Oberon: By whom? Beckett? Lovecraft? Stoppard? Kirby?

Scott: I don’t know. There’s something sinister about the whole mess.

Oberon: Undoubtedly.

Scott: So let’s leave.

Oberon: Where do we go?

Scott: Is there anywhere else?

Oberon: I sincerely doubt it.

(From the wings, enters Barda. She walks onstage and looks around, not noticing the pair.)

Oberon: Is that him?

Scott: I don’t think that’s a him at all.

Oberon: Is Cthulhu a him?

Scott: I’ve heard he has height, width, depth, and a couple of other things, too, I bet it hurts to look at him. I guess he’s really not a him, then.

Oberon: Should we address her?

Scott: Why? We’re not waiting for her.

Oberon: It will help pass the time.

Scott: What time?

Oberon: Not now. (he calls to Barda) You there! Ma’am!

(Barda lifts her head, and looks toward them.)

Barda: Comment? Vous parlez à moi ?

Scott : Are we sure she’s not Cthulhu ? She’s speaking in tongues.

Oberon: Be quiet. We’ll get through this.

Scott: (calling at Barda) Are you Cthulhu?

Barda: (moving closer to them) Je suis désolée. Je ne parle pas votre langue.

Oberon : She’s not Cthulhu.

Barda : Ne parlez plus à moi ! Vous me mettez en colère ! (she storms out)

Oberon : Now look what you did !

Scott: We didn’t need her anyway!

Oberon: Maybe you didn’t but I can think of a few things I’d like her around for.

Scott: You’ll always have me.

Oberon: I don’t want you for those things.

Scott: Oh. Well, I would.

Oberon: I know you would.

Crash offstage.

Scott: That’s him!

Oberon: I don’t want to look at him.

Scott: Neither do I.

Oberon: We could put out our eyes.

Scott: Do you think he’d approve?

Oberon: I hope so.

Each of them pulls a fork from his pocket, and in unison, they raise them to their eyes.

Oberon: Wait. This is going to hurt, isn’t it?

Scott: Terribly.

Oberon: Give me your fork.

Scott: What?

Oberon: Give me your fork. I don’t want to put my eyes out one at a time. It will hurt too much after the first one, and I won’t want to do the second.

Scott: Oh.

Oberon: So, I’ll put my eyes out, and then you can have the forks and do it to yourself, so we don’t have to look at him.

Scott: Yes, that makes sense.

(Scott hands his fork to Oberon, who raises both of them to his eyes. As he’s about to blind himself, Scott stops him.)

Scott: I don’t want to watch. You should do it over there. (he points offstage)

Oberon: But I’ll be blind, I’ll have to walk back on in the blackout.

Scott: The nobodies don’t want to see that either. They just want to see the fallout.

Oberon: You’re right. For the nobodies. (he leaves and Scott covers his ears, Oberon screams bloody murder, before re-entering blindfolded, holding the forks.) Your

Scott: You know, I don’t think I should.

Oberon: What?

Scott: That looks remarkably unpleasant.

Oberon: It was. Please. We have to match.

Scott: Why?

Oberon: We need to match, otherwise we’ll get identities. And if we have identities, responsibilities are soon to follow. We can’t have that.

(Another crash offstage.)

Oberon: What was that?

Scott: Cthul—

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