|Agonia.Net | Policy | Advertising||Contact | Participate|
|Poetry Personals Prose Screenplay Essay Press Article Communities Contest Special Literary Technique|
￭ s m i l e
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
2009-08-22 | |
Who and how killed Madame T
Madame T, Baroness of the Green Field.
George, the servant of the Baroness.
Paula, a female butterfly.
Toto, a male butterfly.
Ben Sling, Chief of the Metropolitan police.
Bean Sleng, Ben's Assistant.
Two police officers and a lot of butterflies.
A field with lots of flowers and green silky grass.
Madame T (basking in the sun, on a chaise lounge, George runs with a butterfly net on the meadow): George, how many did you catch?
George is running and does not seem to hear.
Madame T: Take only those worth a thousand pounds. George, can you hear me?
George (concentrated): Sst.
A one-thousand-pound butterfly sits down on Paula’s naked posterior. Paula sleeps next to Toto in the grass. George picks with dexterity the butterfly in the net.
Paula (dozing off): To…To!
Toto (dozing off): Pau…La.
Madame T: Did you catch it?
George nods his head.
Madame T: Talk, did you catch it?
George: You are waking them up.
Madame T: What?
George: You are waking them up.
Madame T: I am waking them up?? (Looking at the insectariums at her feet): George, where did you hide your whisky?
George: I did not have a sip.
Madame T (discovering the two in the grass): Shsh, do not move, you are disturbing their sleep. (Agitated): In fact, why shouldn’t you disturb them, what are they doing here?
George: That was what I was trying to tell you.
Madame T: Look how much grass they ruined; did you know they were here?
George: I saw them only when the butterfly landed on her buttocks.
Madame T: I did not get any sleep last night, another night with a full moon. How did they come in?
George: Believe me; it was flying disoriented, followed by my relentless eye, when suddenly it decided to sit on that warm patch of green grass.
Madame T: Patch, what can I say, what patch… I should have been informed immediately.
George: Your patch has more caloric intensity, if that is what we are talking about.
Madame T: George, that is not what we are talking about, don’t be cheeky, we agreed we would be discreet.
George: What public? They are sound asleep.
Madame T: Maybe they are faking it, set up by the tabloids. They are pretending, and in their asses they have one of those very little eyes, very little eyes, which send your face all over the world through their networks. In my family a servant will always be a servant, no matter how good he is at catching butterflies.
George: This is not true. I’ve been in your service for thirty years; nobody has ever had such horrid thoughts.
Madame T: Are they dead? What will we do?
George: Why would they be dead? And then, they both pronounced a name.
Madame T: Bastard! Pardon me: little. You have a deal; you probably brought them here for a plot hatched up by the miserable servants. Tell me how did you think you were going to blackmail me? Are these butterflies your property? Even though my financial situation is questionable, I never took one over the border. Not even one drop of pollen left my kingdom – you know that, George, it is forbidden.
George: Madame, the interdiction has been lifted when His Excellency, your cousin, became Prime Minister. He did it to save your family from bankruptcy. What do you think? How is it that we live in this wealth?
Madame T: Forgive me, George, I have forgotten how you help me balance. Without you I would imagine all sorts of scenarios. How much does the Japanese market swallow?
George: 70% of what we can extract.
Madame T: What are these doing on my field at this hour?
George: Is it too early to wake them up?
Madame T (intrigued): You must be joking.
George (coming close, pushes them with the tip of his shoe): Hey, you. (No reaction.)
Madame T: George, talk to them but don’t touch them. What if they were murdered?
George repeats the movement.
Paula (gazing the other way, scared, she jumps to her feet moving her hands as if she wanted to fly, whispers softly): To…To.
Toto (gazing the other way, scared, jumps to his feet moving his hands as if he wanted to fly, whispers softly): Pau…La.
George is stunned. Toto and Paula wave their hands desperately trying to fly; they repeat this movement for a while, then they fall exhausted.
Madame T: George, what’s wrong with them? Are they epileptic?
George is stunned and does not say anything.
Madame T: What are they? Answer me.
George: What are you?
Paula and Toto paralyzed by fear look at the net.
Paula: Are you going to catch us?
Toto (shaking with fear, points with one of his fingers to the insectarium at Madame T’s feet): You are going to stick a…
Toto: Needle in the back.
The two of them try to fly again flipping their hands in a grotesque manner.
Madame T. George, I am uneasy. Perhaps, they are environmentalists?
George: Maybe you are two environmentalists? Trespassing?
Paula (towards Toto): Where are our wings? … and that monstrous trunk from between your monstrous feet?
Toto: My dear, at least I still have it, but with what will you sip the pollen?
Paula (yell): My trunk!
George (to Madame T): Two drunken environmentalists. (Skeptical): On drugs and drunk.
Madame T: Outrageous. I can almost see the media stepping on my grass and presenting this strange case with hatred. With so many one-thousand-pound butterflies in the insectarium… Put it away, quickly!
George darts out, takes the insectarium, he stumbles; the butterflies will spread over the grass. Paula and Toto make a long cry.
Madame T: George, make them shut up, for God’s sake. You can hear them from the Tower of London!
George grabs them and covers their mouths with his hand, Toto and Paula’s eyes pop out of their head.
Paula: Poor Rosa, with a needle in her nape.
Toto: Dops, Frim, Andy, all those who disappear these years are here.
Paula: Scattered all over the grass with a needle in her nape.
Toto: I told you! I told you not to come here. It is dangerous, I can feel it is over.
Paula: How could you be so cruel? Think how many people are waiting for them, and they are lying in the grass with a needle in their nape.
George is shocked.
Madame T: Can you hear them? They are on drugs, they are trespassing my property and…
George: Something like that!
Madame T: You should ask for an explanation. I also pay you for such dirty work.
George: You were, I mean, you are caught in an indecent position on the property, the field belonging to Madame T; we respectfully ask you to leave.
George: Madame T’s.
Toto: Property, as in…
George: Her place, space, inherited for a thousand years from generation to generation, it is hers. Just like me, my family…
Paula (to Toto): Our wings have been taken. Our wings!
Toto (touching his shoulders): We lost our flight. How could such an abomination happen?
Madame T: What are they saying over there?
George: They are talking about wings, flight.
Madame T: Question them.
George: Well, what have you had and how much?
Madame T: Not like that.
Paula: We’ll talk. Promise us you won’t use the net.
George (putting the net in the grass): If that is the problem.
Toto: To start with, it is a problem.
Paula: We each had been sitting down on a flower; the breeze was warm, when you appeared we underwent this grotesque transformation in our sleep. (To Toto) How do you find me?
Toto: Unacceptable. (One of his fingers passing over Paula’s back): You did not splash in a flower…
Paula (one of her fingers also passing over his back): Dry, not even a drop of pollen.
Madame T: George, the drug addicts are playing with my patience, you should threaten them with your shotgun.
George: We only have this worn out net with us.
Madame T: Oh, you incompetent! If Ben, the chief of our police, were here, I would feel more relaxed.
George (making vulgar signs, aside): Old hag, here you go again with that pot belly fool.
George lifts the net, Paula and Toto move their arms desperately.
Paula: I thought you were not going to use it.
George (almost enlightened): They think they are butterflies.
Madame T (bursting into a hysterical laughter): Butterflies? Who, they?
George: They both see themselves as one-thousand-pound butterflies.
Madame T (serious): A one-thousand-pound butterflies? (Bursting into laughter again): Oh my, what specimens!
Toto (to Paula): We might have a chance.
Paula: He is saying that we think we are, but we really are.
George: They are convinced that they are butterflies.
Madame T: George, where did you hide it?
Madame T: That bottle of whiskey. (Takes out her mobile phone.) Hello, Ben, come quick!
Madame T sits in the chaise longue, George and Ben tear out her white hairs.
George (mean): Don’t come to my side.
Ben: The parting is here. I respect delimitations.
Madame T: Ouch…Ben, be more delicate.
Ben mocks her. George disapproves.
George: Your hair is like silk.
Madame T: Thank you.
Ben: Silk cannot be the term of comparison; your hair is like the grass on our foggy mornings.
Madame T: How?
Ben: Very clean … that is…
George: Of course, it is clean. On this property water is not used only for drinking.
Ben (passing his hand through his hair): Do you insinuate anything?
Madame T: Let’s get down to business. Can you see those two in the grass?
Ben: Only now. I knew you did not have any other relatives.
Madame T: Relative? We woke up and found them on our doorstep.
George (counting the removed hairs): Fifty… Strangers, immigrants, I don’t know… Ha, ha, ha, you only have four.
Madame T: Hard-working boy, my faithful servant.
Ben: Your side gets older sooner.
Madame T: George, what are you doing to her? Is our most esteemed chief of police telling the truth?
George: Nobody knows where they came from; they pretend they are two butterflies who turned into people.
Ben: You must be kidding.
Madame T: Ouch… Just four threads? You are not doing your job properly anymore. Ben, you forgot who supported you to get where you are now.
Ben: I have ravaged my side. Where should I get them from if they are not there?
Madame T: You must be informed. From where did they appear on our properties? Whether they are or not butterflies!
George: Butterflies! They convinced me.
Madame T: Heads will fall.
Ben: Exactly when I was informed about the deal in the subway … you come with these little things.
Madame T: The metro?
Ben: It is a secret. For the moment, as far as butterflies are concerned, my hands are tied. Legislation… I have too many things on my plate. George, you settle it somehow.
Madame T (to George): Abandoned by the authorities in full butterfly crisis.
Ben: Let us not exaggerate; a crisis was that thing with the rockets.
George: We’ll make it on our own somehow.
Ben (looking at the scattered insectarium in the grass): With so many victims, there will be a scandal!
George: Rocking the system well.
Ben: I’ll wash my hands.
Madame T: You are all going down; you have all taken advantage of me.
Ben (to George): This is your meddling. (He leaves.)
Paula (to Toto): You got used to it.
Toto (to Paula): No, you?
Paula (to Toto): No.
Toto (to Paula): Did it hurt?
Paula (to Toto): You make me blush. How will I look my parents in the eyes?
Toto (to Paula): They don’t need to know, if you stay like … this … there is no one you have to give an explanation.
Paula (to Toto): I want to…
Paula (to Toto): Is that a bad sign?
Toto (to Paula): You started.
Paula (to Toto): Relax, I am not under age or all that ignorant, once a bumblebee…
Toto (to Paula): Bumblebee?
George: I was curious what the matter with the bumblebee is. Why did she stop?
A few moments later, Madame T and George aside, in the grass; a bit further Paula and Toto.
Madame T: Acknowledge you are defeated. Leave us alone Ben, there is nothing we can do.
George: Impossible to identify them, no papers, they have nothing on them. At the end of the day, would it be so much out of the ordinary if you admit they are butterflies?
Madame T: Ben advised me well to fire you; he is of the opinion that I have too good an opinion of you.
George: Mr. Ben, our respectable boss, gives me so much attention, I am honored.
Madame T: You impudent one, now you are also witty.
George (he hugs her, his face between her breasts): Who is this duckling? When you whimper at night, who is it that warms up your blanket?
Madame T: Not in public. Not here, little beast. Ben is only a family friend. Fearful … my business is not his concern.
George: But when you lived in the castle, he provided for you.
Madame T: The good old times!
George: Five lines were not enough and the whiskey was flowing
Madame T: You are an ass – pardon me. Never in my life have I put a drop of alcohol in my mouth.
George: Not directly, firstly it was in the glasses and Eva…
Madame T: Eva? Oh, the good old times! … Oh, yes, Eva … dear Eve, how she died taking that dose of compote in her vein…
George: You were so drunk and I was helping everyone in the castle.
Madame T: You know I only like men, with Eva it was just friendship.
George: Friends for a joint?
Madame T: You bad boy.
George: They are gone, you buried them all. You are an honorable winner; I do not accuse you of anything.
Madame T: The castle was my growing up period. There I trained myself to be useful to my country: to the crown.
George: A bit long for an initiation. Late, only too late did you have it pulled down. Five years ago you already had a certain age.
Madame T: Do you insinuate that it is too late for me to get involved; are you telling me that I am too old?
George: You are still fresh … and hungry. You resemble the late Mr. T, your father.
Madame T: What are you saying over there?
George: Sometimes he would press my calling button for whiskey even three times per night.
Madame T: He was a gentleman, he was alone and all the people that came to the castle suffered from loneliness.
George: I had to untie my belt three times or even some times five times per night only in his room. You did not see anything, but I was able to handle it and I served them all. As for their loneliness, give me a break. The parking lot was full of Rolls. When you have a Rolls, you cannot, you simply cannot drive alone. Poor fellows, from the cardboard boxes spread all over between the bushes on the river bank. This kind of discourse works for them, the loneliness discourses is good for them.
Madame T: George, you were not a lefty! When did you become one? One day … you will get your reward. These last five years you have not been in too high demand. Memories, memories. You are tormenting me, George, all our people are gone.
George: But these one appeared.
Madame T: What tiresome crisis!
George: You cannot complain about the crisis. You have not been affected yet. I saw you, you were drooling when you saw the butterfly’s trunk.
Madame T: You impudent thing. Sorry.
Paula and Toto in the grass.
Paula: We resemble the monstrous beings that killed half our friends, our acquaintances. Selfish, we are staying here in the grass talking.
Toto: Without grace, flight ability, liberty, two pathetic beings. A string of grass broken out of carelessness may have cursed us.
Paula: An envious burdock!
Toto: It could have been anyone on the field, even if we did not harm them.
Paula: That’s how the people I kept hearing about look like. They live like this, these are their pleasures.
Toto: If we were bees, we took revenge somehow.
Paula: And so many of our people are in the grass a needle in their nape. If we were butterflies again, we would fly to the sky and everyone would know what happened here.
Toto: We are people. We are awaiting, for the moment. We cannot do anything. We are awaiting.
George ( eavesdropping): The castle…
Madame T: Are they talking? Make them talk. I can feel my energy going. Stop it with your rudeness.
George (towards the two): Madame T has commanded me to listen. Talk to me.
Toto and Paula look at him bewildered.
George (to Madame T): Nothing.
Madame T: Insist.
George: My mistress insists that you talk. (To the butterflies, aside): Tell her anything, she’s old.
Paula: Are you, are we people? The people of whom we heard so many strange things.
Toto: The people who kill out of pleasure because in the grass there are some of our ilks, a needle in their nape.
Paula: (hugs him, kisses him): You are brave. (To Madame T and George) For what?
Toto: For whom?
Paula: You destroyed so many lives, we knew everyone, and we knew their dreams. They all wanted little things: a flower above their head, a few drops of morning dew, happy mornings and nights.
Madame T: Well, well, it is good that they started talking, but what are they saying?
George signals Madame T not to interrupt them.
Toto: In our world, this sum…
Paula: I would never have known how much courage you can have.
Toto: Crimes are harshly punished, genocide…
George (To Madame T, aside): We are talking here of butterflies worth one thousand pounds that move and fly with utter boldness on your field. (Aside to Toto and Paula): Until the great crisis, prosperity and comfort dominated here for my mistress and me, and also for your world. Hard times, bankruptcy, the inevitable impossibility of paying the suppliers. Genocide! I would call it collateral damage. (To Madame T): You should have sold the castle.
Madame T: Don’t tell me that you are talking to some strangers about my financial situation.
George (signaling to her to relax): All of these have pushed us to the desperate measure of selling butterflies. The marketplace, this demon, swallows everything and the opportunity came at a time when nobody bought or sold anything, so we took advantage. You should look at the bright side. Those from the insectarium have the opportunity to see Mount Fuji, Japan for free.
Madame T: Stop it, George.
George: A good butterfly is a preserved butterfly. Used in one of those difficult preludes, it develops, insures, credits.
Paula: You are killing our flight so that you can help some people get over their sexual crisis.
George: We, our financial crisis; our clients, their sexual crisis. It is unbelievable, isn’t it? You, butterflies, increase our buying potential.
Madame T: You miserable, how could you trust them? What if they are ?… You are fired! Fired!
George: The truth bothers you, my lady. This is the trend now, even one of the candidates to the presidency of France promised his constituents that he would raise their buying power. And he was elected.
Madame T: Out.
On the field, dark. Madame T makes love with Ben.
Madame T: Take two more, swallow them completely. You beast, you gorged down two thousand pounds. Can you help me with these?
Ben: Yes, certainly.
Madame T: You dashed out at me without touching your tea. You are inhibited.
Ben: And the will? Tea… tea… why do all these moments have to appear so English? I do not drink tea and I do not appreciate foreplay with tea.
Madame T: How you take advantage of a poor lady!
The sound of a cup falling.
Ben: You have scalded me.
Madame T: Not me.
Ben: Still, you are not young anymore.
Madame T: Hold me in your arms, crush me, like that, hold me. You have eaten a dozen of my butterflies, shouldn’t this make a little difference to you?
Ben: It is alright, this is everything that is right now. Trust me. And the will?
Madame T: The will! Come on now. It is all signed.
Ben: I never thought you would get rid of George. I will take care of those two. They think they are butterflies? I will teach them to fly.
Madame T: From the Tower of London! Now, now! Come on, yes. George.
A firearm shot is heard, agitation, the light turns on again. Madame T, shot in the temple, lies on her chaise lounge in an indecent position. Next to her, the tea boils in a kettle.
George (enters the stage, sees Madame T, comes closer to her, tears out a white hair, looks at her insistently; he turns to the audience and shrugs his shoulders): That’s it. (He starts giving members of the audience cups of tea, telling them): May she rest in peace, she was a pious woman. She never hurt anyone.
George, Toto and Paula on the field.
George: The moment we buried her, the fuss was over. You should be happy, the butterflies will have peace.
Toto: We depend on the heir of the field.
Paula: Our history is full of examples, always one evil heir was followed by an even more evil one.
George: This is not true for this kingdom. In the East and the Orient, yes. Over there anything is possible. Our democracy is consolidated.
Paula: We started looking for international support.
Toto: We found it – not much, it is true.
Paula: We stopped all protests after her death.
George: Wise, how wise you butterflies are!
Toto: You admit that we were…
Paula: That we are.
George: No question about it. I am willing to fight in your place for each dandelion on this property. I am for the restitutio in integro of all fields to the butterfly nation.
Paula: Both in the lowlands and in the mountains.
George: I guarantee only for what it’s here.
Paula (looks at Toto): For now that is also good.
Toto: What about you, Mr. George? What was your role in this sad spectacle?
Paula: Do not misunderstand us! It is a matter of trust. You were obliged, of course.
Toto: The senses of a humble and tired servant act as an anesthetic for effort and fatigue.
Paula: We know you tried to oppose her.
Toto: How do we know?
Paula: We hope that you tried to oppose her.
Paula: There are also good people, right? Just like there are good butterflies and bad butterflies, good services – bad services, good communists – bad communists, good bumblebees – bad bumblebees, capitalists…
Toto: White and black.
Paula: Black and white.
George: Wait a second, we still have a problem here.
Toto: White and black.
George: Yes. Accurate statement.
Toto: All butterflies need to know about George.
Paula: About this good man. (Exists.) Black and white.
George: No. (Exists.)
Toto: White. (Exists.)
George (far away voice): Yes.
The noise of a big slap.
Paula: To To.
Toto: Pau La, damn you. I am not playing that black and white game.
The office of Ben, the chief of the metropolitan police. Ben appears profoundly affected by the death of Madame T.
Ben: Impressive funeral.
George: I have not seen so many people since the death of Mr. T, Madame T’s late father.
Ben: The same, a shot in the temple and what beautiful tribute they paid to her. Why?
George: What? Ah, I think they liked the tea, nobody expected it.
Ben: Ahh, what heat… (Opens the window, while looking furtively at George) Why … did it take you so long to answer our plea to give a statement?
George: Important business kept me on the property. I am directly involved in the butterfly crisis.
Ben (raising his voice): Important things kept you on the property! Crisis, my ass. It was the rocket crisis.
George: Such as choosing the burial site, the type of tea, the color of the flowers, the arrangement of the chairs.
Ben: Everything was prepared before time. Madame T was a cautious woman.
George: Cautious? What are you talking about? You know well that these events are rare in the family of baroness; none of them died before being one hundred years old.
Ben: Except late Mr. T.
George: True. Even then, I had to do the difficult part.
Ben: The indispensible George, the night potty took care of everything.
George: I won’t allow it. I have to defend my honor.
Ben: Leave it, sir, we know better what needs defending. We are not the metropolitan police for nothing, but why?
Ben: Soon enough we will have a trial.
George: Trial? What trial? Do you understand what serious situation has been created? Two butterflies worth a thousand pounds turned into human beings, and on top of it all they are about to become residents.
Ben: We’ll get to the butterflies as well.
George: These accusations are stupid! Who would think that a lady with a clear position… the word of a baroness cannot be questioned, there is no possibility to question it.
Ben: Her word was as you say it, but now it is dead.
George: Madame T, I, a nobody on that property, had anything to do with the insectarium.
Ben: We’ll get to the insectariums as well. You should not be playing this bad scene with me. The information received through the secret service leads upstairs, high, in the government which seems to have a connection with this business.
George: A simple servant in front of all these services is nothing. I am, most of the time with the coffee set, errands … Duty…
Bean, who resembles Ben a lot, enters. He leaves an envelope on the desk.
Bean: It has just arrived. (He leaves.)
George: Your brother?
Ben: Who? (He reads, he is surprised.)
George: The gentleman … it is the first time I see him.
Ben: Bean is my first collaborator, my subordinate, he has just been appointed.
George: Astonishing resemblance, if you suddenly disappeared, like that all of a sudden, nobody would notice.
Ben (thinking): You think? (Handing him the paper): I thought; I was convinced that you did it.
George (reading, he pretends to be extremely excited): A true lady. You were saying...
Ben: You seemed the logical criminal, as the only heir of the baroness’ will, you knew. Sure you knew. I do not see the motive anymore, that night I sensed your stench of cheap person. She loved you.
George: A poor servant…
Ben: Nothing against you. You did it, but having nothing… your conscience gives me no hope that you will admit it.
George: I categorically protest.
Bean enters followed by two other police officers.
Bean: Mr. Ben, please, hand over your gun.
Ben: You insolent, how dare you?
Bean: You will be protected as much as possible. Nobody will find out, our honor is at stake. (Hands him a paper.) The result of the ballistic test. It was you! It is your gun! Take him! Ben, you know, you make me sick.
Toto and Paula talking to the butterflies.
Toto: Little people, small tragedies.
Paula: At least the butterfly killer got the punishment she deserved.
Toto: George is the only decent man I have ever met.
Paula: Even though he served a monster, life in the field has changed. He burnt the net and donated the insectarium to an institute for the study and the prosecution of human horrors.
Toto: That is how a democratic spirit living in the proximity of crime and knowing its mechanisms acts. Then suddenly it decides to report her. George calls all of you from the field for a confession.
Paula: We will certainly listen to him; he is the most adequate person to talk about the past, help us understand how these crimes were possible, why no one acted, and helping us to forgive. For sure, he will ask for forgiveness in the name of all people.
Toto: From the position of a servant he could not intervene.
Paula: He carries a lot of suffering in his heart. Help him free himself.
Toto: Even though he did something wrong.
Paula: With or without his will.
Toto: I –
Paula: And I -
Toto: we forgive him.
Paula: I also forgive him.
Toto: And only for the simple reason that life goes on.
Paula: Life has to go on with George.
Toto (to Paula): You feel it…
They begin to change into butterflies.
Paula: Forgiveness; accepting our situation gives us our flight back. Freedom.
Toto: Freedom and pollen.
Paula: Pollen, freedom and fraternity with people.
Toto: We were like them on this field. I also confident in the future: Liberty, Fraternity, Pollen.
Paula: Come on, Toto, enough. We are not insurgents.
They changed into butterflies, they fly.
Toto: I began to like it.
They leave followed by the butterflies.
As the heir of the field, George gathered all the butterflies to make a confession to them.
George: Who and how killed Madame T? Beloved butterflies, I am the only one who knows exactly how this horrible person was eliminated. (The butterflies paying attention.) I have always talked to Ben about the lack of security of this field. Cameras (he thrusts few sticks on which surveillance cameras are placed), these are surveillance cameras, extremely efficient, useful; they increase the security level. If they had been placed in time, be sure a lot of the tragedies that occurred on the field, during the period of the castle would be prevented. The audience could see the horrors with their own eyes. The citizens, the prime minister, the queen would have taken some measures, but to come back to our subject. Who and why killed Madame T. (The butterflies look with satisfaction and appreciation at the cameras.) That night I had just put water for tea; Paula and Toto were resigned, their transformation was irreversible. In one word, they fell asleep glued together, amazed at the new kind of approach - “pollination”, a bit too wet for their taste. All the business of the property was solved up to the smallest detail. I had packed as I was about the part with that horrible Madame T in whose service… (Some butterflies cry, general sadness.) You sensible ones!! In order to increase the security of your life I suggest that you rally together so that I will make your space smaller and supervise it better. My main concern is your protection. (The huge field will be reduced to a few square meters. The butterflies look at George with admiration and love, as to a protector.) Every night at that hour I used to go and cover Madame T with her blanket, I used to do that since my first day in her service, without exception. That night I was about to carry out my duty even though I had been banished. (A large number of butterflies are flopping their wings as they are impressed, a few, very few disapprove of him.) On the field, the water for tea was boiling. In her chaise lounge, Madame T made terrible noises. I hear my name. There was someone, not just someone but our chief of police. (The butterflies are angry.) I will stop this confession now. Dear butterflies, now that I am the only owner of the field, you security is my only concern. I know who and how killed Madame T. It was not Ben, the esteemed and honorable chief of metropolitan police. The criminal is still at large and can hit again any time. A modern Jack the Ripper. (A few butterflies faint). For my peace of mind and for your total protection I suggest that you enter under this glass bell and I am the only one who has access to the button which can switch it open. (The butterflies enter happily, full of gratitude under the glass recipient) Mr. Ben’s cloths were all over around the chaise lounge; I bent to arrange them. That scene was not at all English; it did not give us any honor, there was something Latin in it. I am referring to the Eastern Latin people. I had already thrown the plants in the boiling water. A pleasant scent floated all over reminding me of the thousands of nights when I covered Madame T with her blanket. It was then that an object fell from my pocket. Picking it up I realized it fitted my finger like a carefully chosen engagement ring. Her palm used to caressing its absolute gloss; absolute because it was made in our country. (The butterflies are stunned, they gaze at to the walls of the recipient.) I fired and even though it would never be necessary, I could not explain precisely why. Old things had gathered in my mind since the times of the castle and the fear of the boxes on the river bank. I do not know why. (In the glass bell, agitation, the butterflies look for a way out.) Everything else was simple, average, commonplace. I took out my handkerchief. I had sweated. I passed it over my forehead, then over the handle of the gun, which, I repeat, was made of English stainless steel, Made in India (laughs cynically), putting it in the coat I was tucking. I killed her, dear butterflies. (He yawns.) It’s getting late. (He switches on a button as at the gas lamps. Inside the bell, a powerful flame, the butterflies fall dead, their wings burnt.) Ah. It took such a long time. (Powerful light, a huge field where George stands alone; he looks with satisfaction at the vastness, butterfly wings have grown on his back. He flies playfully over the field.) Only mine. Only me.
|Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests.|