PIG ANGELS OF THE AMERICLYPSE — AN ANTI-MASQUE FOR FOUR PLAYERS
Props: one pencil, one hand-held yellow plastic sharpener/tumbler, something in standing for a “fax machine”, blank sheets of “fax” paper.
Positions: P1, P2, & P3 bent down on the ground on hands and knees (and stomach) always, unless otherwise staged; P1 inspecting the floor very carefully, focusing on the minute things; P2 smushing small things on the ground (later picks at them with pencil); P3 wiping the ground obsessively, like clearing a mirror); they never turning to each other, concentrated, looking down as at an ant farm.
Text in these {brackets} are only for stage instructions, or for translation purposes {not pronounced}
___
{P1} The sun the sun…{P2 & P3 straining to see it}
{P2} And these puercos {snorts like a pig}{sneering} sin destino.
{P1} “Se busca”?
{P2} “Wanted”—“is sought”—“we seek”
{P1} Ah.
{P3 takes out a sharp pencil; gestures every word (clearly visible to the audience)}
Se busca—
lápiz {“pencil”}
filoso {“sharp”}
ambriento {“starving”}
{P3 matter-of-factly, to no one in particular}
Se busca (por lo mínimo) un Brasileiro mas Mexicano que un Argentino Gringo.
{P2} And these puercos sin destino…qué?
{P1} The moon the moon…{P2 & P3 straining to see it}
{P1, P2, & P3 continue inspecting the floor; P4 comes in from the side, stands near them; P4 is not acknowledged by the others, as they can’t see nor hear P4; P4 is only slightly conscious of the others}
{P4 in the direction of the three, but not directly}
That can’t be the whole of it, folks, come on.
{P3} Se busca—
un fax {pronounced ‘fahks’}
del Presidente
de la Republica!
{P4} That’s…if there’s ink…in the Fax Toner. {walks toward the machine}
{P2} And these puercos…sin destino…qué? qué?
{P4} And if I’ve re-ordered a back-up cartridge.
{P3 swoons, salivates, as if seeing an attractive body}
Un Canadiense—fregón! {“kickass”}
Uf! Dual citizenship, that’s
tight underwear.
{P1} Too tight for me
{P2} Oh my god
{P4 fiddling with machine} Is this thing even plugged in? Let’s see.
{P1} The groom the groom…{P2 & P3 straining to see it}
{P2} We can’t “marry” these {snorts loudly several times} to one another!
{P4} These presets…(tsk) I wonder if (tsk)
{P3 rolling pencil between palms of hands, evil-like}
Se busca
lápiz {“pencil”}
ambicioso {“ambitious”}
vicioso {“vice-prone”}
{P3 quits ‘evil-like’ manner, then very matter-of-factly}
and a yellow tumbler
to screw it into.
{P3 takes out the tumbler and sharpens the pencil; blows on the pencil, and touches the sharp tip}
{P1} The bride the bride {P2 & P3 straining to see it}
{P2} More slop more slop.
{P4} Tsk, I wonder if I even kept the receipt for it?
{P1} Oh my god—
{P2} Qué? qué?
{P3} El Presidente de la Republica! {P2 & P3 straining to see it}
Se busca…
hair gel (mucho)
y una tropa de poetas
worth a culo {“ass”}
“ambriento”
to anyone!
{P1 somewhat startled, but delighted, pointing}
The sanctimonious hypocrite twilight
and its
attendant northern
sparkling cluster of
—oh—wow
Shine on! shine on!
{P4} I should have priced shopped it (tsk) I mean…oh well{P4 in the direction of the three, but not directly} (—hey, you folks down there getting a little antsy?)
{P2} Watch the gates! Watch those gates, now. The pretty pretty orange…troughs.
{P1} The bride the bride
{P2} We’ve already established “the bride”
{P1} Sorry
{P3 waving hand over ground, marveling}
Se busca
—Cuddle Machines—
—Octopi—
{P1 alerted} “I needn’t budge an inch further” One of them just said that—d’ja hear it?
{P2} I’m…right here—right now {gestures erotically, grotesquely, like an octopus)—give me that lápiz—ambriento.
{P2 springs up and grabs pencil from P3, returns to position, and lowers it toward the floor as if trying to stab some tiny moving thing (continues doing this until "#")}
{P4} I probably should have checked into newer technology.
{P3} Which way’s the sun again? Or the moon for that matter. I’m all twisted up.
{P1} Nationstate up—personal dreams down—got it?
{P2} These puercos, sin destinos…lively bunch.
{P3} “Ethos, lady sovereign, be not my decay!
Tell me tell me
Who are the real Americans of today?”
—What a beautiful songlet.
{P1 lowers ear to the floor} I can’t hear it.
{P3} “Ethos, lady sovereign, lend me some velour…”
—I’ve always liked velour
the touch, the feel of it—
{P2} {interrupts with a very loud snort}
{P1} The border the border…
{P2 & P3 straining to see it; # P2 stops picking at floor with pencil}
{P3} Se busca—
{P4} A fax—coming through!
{P3} “Paciencia”?
{P2} —“Patience”
{P3} —Ah.
{P4 reading a fax sheet from the machine; after reading the text out loud, continues silently (perplexedly) mouthing from it}
From the…President…of the Republic (I’ll be).
“Dear Sir / Madam,
With great uncomfortable and unfortunate condolence (my apologies dependent) is denial of transmitted acceptance, yours…for…Zero Card”
Zero Card?
{P2, looking at pencil, as if he’s caught something on the tip of it}
This is…“desvaluado” {“devalued”}
{P1} What means “desvaluado”?
{P4 and P2 speak to themselves as they are (know each other) in real life, using their real names; P2 stands up and faces P4. The casual conversation is about recent travels they’ve both been on, talk about crossing border, paperwork, lines, patience, impatience, all completely improvised—for about one minutes; P1 and P3 continue their inspection of the floor, P1 ear to the ground straining to hear, P3 delighting at songlets, smiling, delighted}
{Example…“Hi Dan, how was your trip to Canada?” “Cool man, or, maybe no, I waited for my-” “Walmart card?” “nah, they only took Target, plus the visa to Serbia— stamps…you know, there’s these Serbo-Italians—or I-don’t-know-whats, just outside of Belgrade—and you, Stephanie, I heard you were in Dayton, Ohio last week” “Sure was” “heard you had a helluva time getting geo-psychic traction there” “geo-psychic traction is right! couldn’t use my Macy’s card for even play ammo! / etc}
{P2 plops back on the floor, picking at it with the pencil as before (unable to sense P4 in any way)
{P1} The bride the bride the bride. The groom! (I can’t tell which is which)
{P4 reading from another fax that just came through}
“Dear Sir / Madam,
Additionally, a downpour of pleasure mine, to bestow, for 28, 000 Americos, upon receipt of herebesaid, Pick Five citizenship…in exchange for…Zero Card…wallet size pic of me, bonus…{keeps silently and intently reading from the fax until next speaking part}
{P2} Slop, more slop for these…{sneering} puercos de sus republicas.
{P1 ear to the ground} “I needn’t go a centimeter further”—d’ja hear that?
{P3 waving hand over ground, like a medium} Se busca…{matter-of-factly} un Nicaragüense with less of a Castroist mask than the most demasked Chilean, on any Sunday, liberal.
{P3 in a loud, hoarse, monotone voice; P1 and P2 looking at the floor, as if they’re seeing something speaking}
“HI”
“HOW ARE YOU?”
“HOW’S YOUR FAMILY?”
“WHAT’S THE GRAPE SEASON LIKE THIS YEAR?”
“HOW DO YOU MANAGE
THE SLIGHT
CHANGE OF
ACCENT?”
{All players throw themselves on their backs, arms and legs spread out, looking straight up}
{pause}
{P1} Dário
{P2} Darío
{P3} Darió
{P2} Darió, ok.
{P3} No no, Darío it is.
{P2} I still think it’s Dário.
{P1, P2, P3}
¡THANK YOU RUBÉN DARÍO!
{P1} For the options
{P3} Poetic palmistry
{P4} 28, 000 Americos!? Monster Pants! How can anyone manage that?
{P1 P2 and P3 pop up and link arm in arm with P4, like a phalanx, facing the audience; they menacingly charge toward the audience, stopping just short of collision}
{P2, defiant and sober}
What
patch of earth
are these angels
overlooking?
{P3, defiant and sober}
Defiant and sober
that’s what
they look like.
{P1} Hell—is me, the way I feel.
{P4} Heaven you too {locks arms even tighter} (here, now) and me, purged of all practical purgatory—cripes…what kind of art-form is this?
{all 4 players}
¡THAT CAN’T BE THE WHOLE OF IT, FOLKS, COME ON!
{P1, P2, and P3 plop back on the floor, on their backs facing up; P4 returns to the fax machine and snatches fax after fax (each one blank) throwing them to the floor after a brief inspection of each sheet (continues doing this until next speaking part)}
{P1} Nationstates up—personal dreams down.
{P2} and mugs
{P3} mugs
{P1} mugs
{P2} mugs
{P3} mugs
{pause}
{P1, P2, P3, slowly, in a semi-sleep state}
{P1} All I see is…The Great Divide.
{P3} I am the heat.
{P2} The wanderlust…where’d it go?
{P1} “Solo se que dios es Bolivariano” – I just heard that.
{P2} Puerqueros Hammer.
{P4 frustrated, loses interest in machine, shushes it away} Tsk
{P4 slowly walks to where the other three are and joins them in the prostate position}
{Pause}
{All four players (slowly, calmly, peaceably) act as themselves, addressing each other using their real-life names}
{P2} That’s good, [Jocelyn]…it’s good you’re happy…
{P3} So happy…the nest of some missing pretty baby I am…
{P1} Delighted is a goofy word {chuckles softly}…jazzed…is only a little less goofy {all four chuckle softly}
{P3} You’re here, [David], right…some…far-off…other time {all four chuckle softly}
{P4} Borders…silent wars…mirth…gloom.
{P2} Vogue, what’s in vogue.
{P3} May…be…that, [Stephanie]…that
{P1} The way out?
{P2} Art goes art goes
{P3} Away...
{P2} And back…
{P1} In…
{P3} And out…
{P4} “Yo persigo una forma que no encuentra mi estilo,
botón de pensamiento que busca ser la rosa” *
{P2} Contrive
identify
the themelets
variate
{P3} Se busca…
{P1} Songlets of sorts, yeah?
{P4} Yeah…
{P2} Mm hmm…
* lines from Rubén Darío’s Yo persigo una forma (“I seek a form”)
“Yo persigo una forma que no encuentra mi estilo,
botón de pensamiento que busca ser la rosa..”
I pursue a form that doesn’t find my style,
mind’s stem that strives to be the rose”
(Trans. R. Toscano)
Rodrigo Toscano latest book is Collapsible Poetics Theater, which was a National Poetry Series 2007 winner. Toscano's experimental poetics plays, body movement poems, polyvocalic pieces have recently been performed at the Disney Redcat Theater in Los Angeles, Ontological-Hysteric Poet’s Theater Festival, Poets Theater Jamboree, Yockadot Poetics Theater Festival (Alexandria, Virginia). Toscano is originally from the Borderlands of California. He lives in Brooklyn, NY.