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: 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?
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.
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.
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?
Oberon: Give me your fork.
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.
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.
Scott: That looks remarkably unpleasant.
Oberon: It was. Please. We have to match.
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?