spwilcen
A stage play in one act, one scene
Overheard at Willa Peron’s Pub and Taberna
Setting:
Willa Norman married Eduardo Peron seventy-five years ago shortly after that particular war. One’s imagination runs wild conjuring explanations of Willa and Eduardo’s opening an establishment catering to English and Spanish tastes at once. Willa’s grandchildren now serve loyal international clientele at what appears from the outside, a sleepy, nondescript bistro.
Players – The Artist Quintet:
H: An older British gent. A poet-humorist as a rule but not averse to occasional serious contemplations which he never denies but fancies himself as surprised as his audience at outbursts of romance, melancholy, or rage.
B: Another older British gentleman, perhaps a few years H’s junior. A limericist of the first water, escaping to serious considerations, even abandoning limerick form when whim strikes, as it does often with a vengeance.
F: An artist from the southeast coast of Iberia skilled in painting, music, and prose. Lord knows what else. One would be hard put to explain from where he gets the energy for his far-reaching endeavors.
D: Hails from the Middle East Holy Lands. The youngest of these men, he is a poet’s poet, a walking encyclopedia of all things poetic, be it explaining, or composing.
E: Perhaps the eldest of the men, from the Atlantic River’s west bank. He struggles to find a voice getting his ideas across effectively. Not that he’s a crusader, but for whatever reason he thinks it an obligation.
Introduction – the bystander:
As is my habit, I stopped into Willa’s for my daily pour of Irish Whiskey one late afternoon. I’d just nestled in to play nice with O’Clamurghaugh. All of the artist quintet, save D, were seated at their table on the main terrace, immediately below my table for two, at that moment, a table for one. Libations sat in front of the men. An un-manned glass sweated profusely awaiting D’s arrival. Barely audible piano jazz practiced while waiting for bass, brass, sax, guitar, and percussion to arrive. I could not help but overhear…
[Voices supplant the background piano]
H: [To no one in particular] “Makes you want to dance?”
F: “No, it makes me want to paint!”
B: “Ever a painting with you?”
F: [With mocking false resignation] “Okay. Perhaps a poem then?”
B: [Seeing D arrive] “Ah! See? The master poet has arrived!”
D: [Hoisting his glass] “What have I missed, gentlemen?”
H: [Nodding in the direction of E] “This one in a bit of a funk this evening.”
F: [Dropping thoughts of poetry to focus on E]: “¿Qué?”
B: [Directed to F]: “He is beside himself with disappointment.”
F: [Focused now on B] “¿Por qué?”
H: [Squinting at E]: “This one believes again he has failed his responsibilities by not publishing an esssay.”
D: [Examining his nearly empty glass] “Let me guess. So as not to offend or lead someone away from a religion with which they have only a budding romance?”
E: [Realizing his peers have heard it all before, yet patiently explaining] “I am unable to write what I want to write, to compell readers to listen without provoking them more to argue than to listen. Religion, gender, inequality, war, politics…”
B: [Professorially] “You are reading to them? Or writing for them?”
E: [To B] “Of course, writing. You know that!”
B: “None taken.”
E: [Confused] “What?”
H: [Confidentially, to E] “He thought he heard you say, ‘You ass!’ Frankly, so did I. So he gave you benefit of ‘No offense intended.” and that means…”
E: “Okay. Got it. Reading and hearing or writing and listening. They are peas in a pod.”
F: “¿Qué?”
D: [To F] “Never mind. They’re working on arguments they all know by heart, hoping one of them will slip. They don’t want us to interrupt.”
B: [Nodding at H and D] “Thank you.” [And continuing to E] “Writing, you can’t stick your finger in your reader’s chest to make a point. He…”
F: [Smugly interrupting] “Or she. Or it!”
B: [Grimacing at F, then smiling] “He or she or it will read what he wants to read and no amount of explanation will produce a finger-in-the-chest ‘wake-up-you-damned-dummy’ effect.”
E: [Matter of factly] “Right. So I’m just going to give it up.”
D: “Naw?”
E: “Yup. Gonna publish nothing. Offend no one.”
F: “Ah, Si. You have made a good choice. Some things should remain unshared. As I wish often many zealots would not be compelled to share with me their unshakable beliefs!”
H: “Pity. But in this day the unintelligent lie in wait for opportunity to belittle and destroy ideas, not for cause except to simply destroy. Perhaps best argue with only yourself.”
D: “Say! Have you considered private publication?”
E: “By subscription?”
D: “Precisely!”
E: “Puts an end to reaching and enlightening the masses.”
H: “Bright idea smile lights his face] “How about sticking with humor?”
E: “Too difficult to maintain a steady stream. And impossible to reach but a few with hidden meaning.”
F: “Aesop did it.”
E: [Nothing but a ‘you can’t be serious’ glare for F’s benefit.]
H: “Poetry?”
E: “Now you’re really talking difficult.”
B: “Limericks?”
E: “You know bettet than that. Now you’re attempting poetry and humor all at once!”
D: “Poetry is a cruel taskmaster.”
E: “Maybe I’ll just write ha-ha-tee-hee bullshit.”
F: “No?”
E: “Forget about putting ideas out for consideration.”
F: “To change minds?”
E: “Absolutely not! To prompt intelligent dialogue. To learn something myself.”
[Four quiet frowns mask thoughts around the table.]
[Willa III, an intoxicatingly lovely young woman approaches the buscadors…]
W: “Would you gentlemen care for another round? Perhaps a bit to eat before the dinner crowd arrives?”
H: [Smiling at Willa] “Another ale would do nicely first, I think.”
F: [Adding a wink to his smile for Willa] “Another glass of that bold red, por favor. Mui gracias!”
B: “Late in the day for me, perhaps a nice cup of tea?”
E: [Tossing previous disappointment aside?] “Coffee for me, please.”
D: [Politely but emphatically draining his glass] “I think I will have another of the usual, please.”
W: [With a nod suggesting she knew the orders before they were placed] “Very good, gentlemen.” [She spins to leave…]
B: [Air-tasting an imaginary delicacy] “Perhaps we should consider the menu.”
F: [Smiling broadly] “Si! La cocina teases the senses…”
H: [With eyebrows] “And makes you want to paint!”
F: [Chuckling]: “No! to eat!”
D: [Feigning deep seriousness] “Painting and poetry after!”
E: [Remains silent and falls back into his ‘funk.’]
[A wave of patrons, it is time for the evening repast, fills the nearby waiting area. Unintelligible voices fill the air as the curtain draws.]
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© spwilcenski 2022
spwilcenwrites 2/28/2022
Ramblings 