Brandon Hicks Stuff Place

Note: Since 2016, I have written a short play every year for NotableActs, a local theatre festival in Fredericton. This year, when the time to start scrapping up some ideas for one, I was hearing the first rumblings of a tiny little disease going around China called “COVID-something-or-other.” Believing this would probably go the way of the 2009 Swine Flu, I thought, “Wow! This would make great fodder for a silly sketch!” Well, we all know how that turned out. So, I had a completed draft of a play that was no longer performable, nor did it feel particularly appropriate for the times. Still, I think it’s funny enough to share, even if just in written form. I’ve made a few small adjustments, and added more stage-notes than usual to help communicate the humour (generally speaking, I’d put more faith in the actors/directors). Hopefully you get something out of it - I certainly I didn’t. --Brandon Hicks, April 9th, 2020

A REUNION OF LOVERS

A SHORT PLAY BY BRANDON HICKS

DRAFT: MARCH 9TH, 2020

CHARACTERS:

MARTIN: The character played by the male actor.

ELAINA: The character played by the female actor.

……..

[Two actors walk onstage to greet the audience. They are both wearing surgical masks and gloves. The man playing Martin is wearing a sterile, hazmat-style suit, while the woman playing ELAINA appears to be wearing a bathrobe. They speak directly to the crowd directly in a loose, straightforward manner.]

Martin: Hello, everyone. Wow. You actually showed up.

Elaina: Yeah, we’re, uh, frankly a little surprised to see everyone here.

Martin: We’re appreciative, of course.

Elaina: Right. Just…surprised.

Martin: So, um, welcome. This, of course, was supposed to be a performance of our short play, “A Reunion of Lovers.”

Elaina: A romantic interlude in which a middle-aged couple, separated for years by the Second World War, reunite for a single, passionate evening.

Martin: That’s right. Not to give to much away, but both of our characters were forced to move on after they parted. They’re both married, with children, and have only this one night together.

Elaina: The thing is, we started working on this before the, uh…before the virus.

Martin: Yes. Elaina: So…the last, y’know, month or so, we’ve kind of been going back and forth saying, should we cancel it? Should we go on as planned?

Martin: Obviously, the health and safety of our audience is of the utmost concern.

Elaina: We asked ourselves, with the virus spreading so quickly, is it irresponsible of us to ask a group of people to gather together in such close proximity.

Martin: What with everybody coughing and sniffing, and passing around paper programs covered in germs…

Elaina: That’s right. We had to also consider our own safety. This is a romantic play, of course, which means it calls for a great deal of physical contact, and we want to make sure we don’t pass anything on to each other.

Martin: But, ultimately, as the old adage says, “the show must go on!” So, we’ve taken great pains to ensure that we are properly protected, so that we can bring you this emotionally rich, uniquely moving play.

Elaina:: You guys do want to see it, right?

[Prompt an affirmative response from the audience.]

Martin: Great. Okay then. Without further ado, here is “A Reunion of Lovers.”

[The pair make a subtle show of getting into character, and moving into their positions. MARTIN positions himself in front of an invisible door. ELAINA sits and pantomimes sipping tea.]

Martin: [Takes a deep breath] Knock knock.

[ELAINA sits up with a start. Moves towards the door, stops herself, mimes looking into a mirror, and attempts to fix her hair. Clearly disappointed by what she sees, she reluctantly moves toward the door…stops for a moment, contemplating, then opens it. She and MARTIN meet eyes. This is the first time they’ve seen each other in fifteen years.]

Elaina: It’s really you…

Martin: I told you I was coming—I sent a note. I’m sure you must have gotten it…

Elaina: Yes—Yes, I received your letter. Oh, what it wonderful sentiment it held, and after so many years! I can only count my blessings that I was able to sneak it away before my husband found it.

Martin: You did want to see me…didn’t you?

Elaina: Yes…No. Oh, Martin—I just don’t know anymore. What we had was special, but it was so long ago. I’m no longer the person you fell in love with.

Martin: Nonsense…You are as beautiful as the moment I last saw you.

Elaina: [Demurs] Come now. I was but a girl then. Now, I’m an old woman.

Martin: I would take you at twice your age over any other woman half it.

Elaina: Oh darling, hold me!

[The two actors look at each other, a little uncertain. MARTIN awkwardly inches towards her, wraps his arms around her, without touching. Their heads are turned away from each other to ensure they aren’t breathing on the other person’s face.]

Elaina: Oh Martin—I tremble at your touch.

[They hold this position a little bit longer. It is the furthest thing from romantic.]

Elaina: So, um…Let us sit down.

Martin: [A little too loudly] Yes!…Let’s!

[They happily break apart, move to the table, and sit.]

Martin: Elaina…All these years, you have never left my mind. I would dream…Nay, fantasize about taking your beautiful hands into my own…

[At the same time, they remove their gloves, take out a small hand sanitizer bottles and squirt some into their hands. After rubbing it in, they tentatively reach out for one another’s hands…just barely touching with their finger tips.]

Elaina: Like this?

Martin: Yes…precisely like this.

[She leans closer to him.]

Elaina: What else, my darling?

Martin: I wanted to once more look into the blue oasis of your eyes…

[He leans closer to her.]

Elaina: Yes?

[She leans closer.]

Martin: Caress the supple skin of your fair cheeks.

[He leans closer.]

Elaina: [Breathlessly] Yes?

Martin: And kiss…your sweet lips..

[By this point, their faces are nearly touching. ELAINA turns her head slightly and lets out a small cough.]

Elaina: *Ahem*

[MARTIN jumps back as if shocked by an electric current, knocking over his chair and moving far away.]

Martin: What the hell was that!?

Elaina: I was just clearing my throat…[glances at the audience] Uh, darling.

Martin: Oh. Um. Right. Of course. As well you should….So where were we?

Elaina: I believe we were about to engage in…[winces] a gentle embrace.

Martin: Ah. Uh-huh. A gentle embrace. Noooo problem.

Elaina: Mhmm.

Martin: So…You’re cool with…I mean, do I have your permission, my dear, to, uh…plant a small kiss upon thy…[grimaces, gestures emphatically]…lips?

Elaina: [Equally uncomfortable] Yes. Well…yeah. After all, that’s what the sce-…er, situation calls for, isn’t it?

Martin: Good! Good. Can’t wait.

[They stand there for an awkward moment.]

Elaina: So—

Martin: Right! Let us embrace!

[The pair slowly shuffle over to one another, not looking at one another, and stop. About a foot away from one another, facing the audience.]

Martin: Okay.

Elaina: Oh-kay. [Then, slowly—ever so slowly, they begin to turn towards one another. Their eyes are closed, and they both look increasingly reluctant as their faces come closer and closer. At the last second, they put their hands over their own faces, so that the back of their hands are touching, not their masks, and certainly not their lips.]

Both: Mmmm..Mhmm…mmm.

[At the same time, they eagerly break apart and move far away from each other, their backs turned. They both remove masks, squirts sanitizer into their hands, and frantically rub it onto their face and lips. Not satisfied, MARTIN squeezes it directly into his mouth.]

Elaina: [Speaking over her shoulder] I never knew you were such a romantic.

Martin: [With a mouth full of hand sanitizer.] Well, you inspire it in me, my dear. [He spits.]

[This sterilization ritual complete, they turn back to one another. They each make several tentative moves to touch each other/embrace in some way, but ultimately give up, and place their hands by their sides.]

Elaina: Oh, Martin—you inspire such passion in me. Martin: And you, I.

Elaina: [Seductively] Excuse me while I slip into something…more comfortable.

[She allows her robe to fall to the floor—revealing…the same thick hazmat suit that MARTIN is wearing.]

Martin: Oh, wow.

[She walks the the edge of the stage, turns to give him a sexy look, then walks off.]

[Off-stage:]

Elaina: [Still seductive] Are you coming, darling?

Martin: [Places both hands to his heart] But of course…Wild horses could not tear me away. All of the power of the great oceans could not allay my desire for you, for your voice is like a beacon of light, calling me forth towards the heavens.

[Finishing this grand speech. He sits there, awkwardly, for a time. Clearly, he does not want to go anywhere near her.]

Elaina:…Uh, Martin?

Martin: Yes, Yes. Fine. Coming!

[He walks off stage to meet her. We cannot see them, but we can hear.]

Elaina: Oh, Martin.

Martin: Oh, Eliana. Elaina: Oh.

Martin: Oh.

Elaina: Oh…Ah.

Martin: Ah… Ah…

Elaina: Ah…Ah…AH….AH CHOOO!

[Beat.]

Martin: [Screams.]

[MARTIN runs back onstage, holding up his hands, which are shaking. In his desperation, he unwittingly approximates a quote from Macbeth, Act II, Scene II, lines 56-60.]

Martin: What hands are here?! Will all great Purrell’s reserves wash this snot clean from my hand?!

[He walks into the audience, brandishing his hand as though it were a hot coal. He accosts the crowd, ad-libbbing pleas for help.]

Martin: (Help me!…Please, do you have hand sanitizer? Wet naps?! Anything!? Etc. etc)

[He goes back the the stage, and collapses in grief.]

Martin: Oh god! Oh god whhyyyy?!

[Sobbing, he begins to crawl in the direction of backstage.]

Martin: Ohwhyohwhy oh god why god….

[Before he finally reaches the end of the stage, he pulls himself up. Turns to give the audience a final, anguished look, and EXITS…That is, before peaking out a second later to give a quick, half-bow, and EXIT for good.]

[ELAINA tentatively walks out, looking embarrassed. She stops to address the crowd.]

Elaina: That was “A Reunion of Lovers.” [Slight curtsy] Thank you.

[She goes to leave, but a thought occurs to her.]

Elaina: …Don’t forget to wash your hands.

[Another small curtsy. Exits.]

8:35 AM: President Donald J. Trump is shot on the golf course of his Mar-a-lago estate by a lone gunman. Somehow, they just knew he’d be there.

8:55 AM: The shooter, 34-year old Daniel Weatherbee is apprehended. Possible ties to ISIS are explored but quickly dismissed. Turns out he sold ice to convenience stores.

9:35 AM: Trump’s hair is pronounced dead.

9:50 AM: The rest of him is, too.

9:58 AM: Stock in the Trump Organization skyrockets.

10:15 AM: The White House holds press conference. Sarah Elizabeth Huckabee Sanders denies “rumors” of Trump’s assassination, out of habit.

11:00 AM: Putin declares national day of morning in Russia. The people still have to work, but they get free spray tan vouchers.

12: 45 PM: First Lady Melania Trump remarries.

1:00: PM: Time, Newsweek and The New Yorker rush out issues addressing the assassination. In unrelated news, Rolling Stone cuts ten pages and gives the new Taylor Swift album a five-star rating.

1:25 PM Former President Barack Obama refuses to comment, but he smiles an awful lot.

1:50 PM: Bill O’Reily interviews a distraught Marla Maples, then asks her to sit on his face.

2:15 PM: Late Show host Stephen Colbert found dead in his bathtub in an apparent suicide.

2:32 PM: Eric and Donald Jr. wake up to the news of their father’s passing.

2:56 PM: Mike Pence is sworn in as the 46th President of the United States.

3:35 PM: internet hackers release over a terabite of pornography downloaded from Mike Pence’s personal computer. FBI investigates.

3:45 PM: Soooooo much porn.

3:50 PM: Like, every kind of porn you can imagine--gay, straight, hentai, gang-bang, scat, bukkaka, beastiality, loli, and, most damningly, self-shot amateur.

4:25 PM: Senate moves to impeach. Pence preemptively resigns. Senate impeaches him anyway.

4:45 PM: Congress proposes a constitutional amendment that the United States become an Absolute Monarchy, anointing Ivanka Trump as it’s first Queen. This is narrowly voted down 205-210.

4:58 PM: Someone suggests re-instating a Democrat.

4:59 PM: Laughter.

5:15 PM: At a loss for how to proceed. Arguments in the senate become heated. Order deteriorates. Violence erupts.

5:30 PM: The United States government collapses.

5:35 PM: Anarchy.

5:46 PM: Supreme Court Judges are hung from the rafters of the White House. It is the first time that they’ve reached a unanimous conclusion on capital punishment.

5:55 PM: Hundreds of celebrities try to finally make good on their promise to immigrate to Canada.

6:02 PM: Amy Schumer is found floating face down in the Detroit River. Fans laud her for her “bravery.”

6:10 PM: Order is reinstated in the United States under a sort of blanket socialist ideology couched in Fourierism.

6:50 PM: State lines are eliminated and the country is renamed simply “United.” The airline sues(they need the money).

7:30 PM: “United” becomes a Utopian State. People of all colors, cultures and creeds work together to form a perfect nation based on love, harmony and understanding. It’s  like MLK’s “I Have a Dream” speech set to the tune of John Lennon’s “Imagine.” Everything is wonderful and beautiful and equality reigns for all. Americans, for the first time, are happy.

Originally posted on The Syrup Trap

Dear Mr. Hicks,

We read your submission, “The Gospel of Brandon,” with great interest. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that we will not be using it for publication in The New Testament at this time.

Although we appreciate your enthusiasm for the subject, we feel that perhaps you did not know Jesus of Nazareth well enough to provide an accurate biography of him. Quite frankly, your manuscript just doesn’t have the up-close-and-personal details about Mr. Christ that we’re looking for.

We cannot refute your claim that you met the Son of God at Solomon’s Bar and Grill outside of Galilee, and we appreciate the significance of his divine presence there. However, we take issue with how he is portrayed in this chapter. Please remember that we are trying to reach a devoutly religious audience with this text, one which perhaps will not fully appreciate a messiah who can “drink like a fish” [2:6], or “beat literally anyone at wine-pong” [2:8].

We have received an influx of submissions in the past few months since the passing of Mr. Christ. After we put out our initial call for stories, we received eleven hand-written manuscripts from some of his closest associates in the first week alone, as well as a half-finished “tell-all” from a prostitute who claims to have known him intimately.

This is not to suggest that we saw no value in your book. We particularly enjoyed the parables that you say Jesus recited at the bar, such as the one about the three blind rabbis, or the one that ends with the man telling his wife “Liquor? I hardly know her!” While these stories do amuse, we are not convinced that they convey any unique insights into the message that Jesus was trying to impart. Especially the account of the martyr crossing the road — we are quite sure we’ve heard that one before.

We respect your determination to provide your account of the life of the Son of God, and believe you showed great gumption in procuring an in-depth interview with Lazurus of Bethany. Nevertheless we found that some of his quotes, such as “All I see is hellfire and pain. Please kill me.” [8:11] to be more upsetting than inspirational.

Your proverbs [14:1-26] show a talent for clear, concise writing. But we found some of these edicts, such as “Do not set foot on a crack. For this action shall break thy mother’s back.” [14:10-12] to be somewhat unrealistic. We also found that a great number of these proverbs could be interpreted as being both extraordinarily misogynistic or homophobic (particularly around [14:16-23]). Although we may agree with many of these sentiments, this is something that we are trying to move away from in our latest edition.

Overall, while we enjoyed your submission, we do not think that the text is compatible with our New Testament. Still—we think you have talent. We have forwarded your work on to some friends of ours. They are former Bible associates, and current editors of a new publication tentatively titled The Qur’an, and we think your work will be a perfect fit for their forthcoming book.

God bless you, and all of your future endeavours.

Eternally yours,

John the Apostle

Originally posted on The Rumpus