[Shortly after the election, I started writing a three act play, a mashup loosely inspired by Ubu Roi and King Lear. Now, a month into the new regime, I think I saw what had happened and what was coming fairly clearly. So, rather than obsess over the outrage du jour, I am posting the play here, a scene at a time.]
Evening, the same campsite. A cookfire burns beneath the cauldron. Ma Joad stands by with a huge wooden spoon, occasionally stirring the contents. The campers cluster around the fire pit, but not too close, because the evening is still pretty warm. the Turd Chorus is in the woods. Trumpaboo stands a little outside the group, seeming oblivious. Long Dong is fixated on the kettle.
Enter Tom, carrying a big, double-bladed logger's axe.
Tom:
Howdy everybody.
Members of the group greet him back. It's a routine homecoming, nothing to get excited about.
Gladys:
Hi, sweetie, where's my dad?
Tom:
George'll be along in a little while. He stopped by those Florida climate refugees' camp to see if they need anything. I couldn't wait to get home to see Little Tommy.
Trumpaboo (snickers softly, but nobody seems to notice):
Little Tommy.
Tom sits next to Gladys. Setting his axe down so its handle rests against his thigh, he reaches into the cradle and begins to play with the baby.
Tom:
You know, I think this little fellow needs a change. So my nose tells me.
Trumpaboo snickers again. This time, Long Dong hears him, and covertly glances at him, worried. Trumpaboo having gone slack-jawed once more, Long Dong returns his attention to the kettle.
Ma Joad:
You just got back from a hard long day, Tom. Visit with Gladys. I'll get a cloth from the tent, and then I'll take him down to the stream and clean him up.
Tom:
You don't have to ask me twice.
Ma Joad hands Maggie the spoon and walks away to the Joads' tent. It is the furthest one from the cookfire, well outside the circle of people. Trumpaboo stealthily slips the rope from his neck, unnoticed by Long Dong, who is greedily focused on the cooking food. Trumpaboo follows Ma Joad into the tent. There's a sudden scream from inside the tent, and the sound of a loud slap. Ma Joad hurries from the tent.
Tom (stands up, gripping his axe):
What's going on?
Ma Joad:
That man grabbed me by the balls!
Trumpaboo saunters out of the tent as if nothing has happened.
Trumpaboo:
You know I'm automatically attracted to beautiful. I just start kissing them. It's like a magnet. Just kiss. I don't even wait. And when you're a star they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything. But she doesn't have a pussy. She has balls. What's happening?
Pa Joad:
You said he don't talk! You said he'd be no bother!
Tom (threatening with his axe):
I think you better hit the road, Mister. (Trumpaboo just stares at him.) You oughta know, I served four long years on a man killing charge.
Trumpaboo:
You can't hurt me. No one born of woman can hurt me.
Pa Joad:
Then you better watch out there, fella.
Long Dong:
I don't know nuffin' 'bout birthin' babies, but -
Pa Joad:
Ma Joad's trans, and so am I. I'm a person who menstruates.
Ma Joad:
He gave birth to our Tom here.
Trumpaboo:
But... but... the Dunsinane thing. Even he can't touch me until the Dunsinane thing. And Birnam Wood. Mama said so!
Long Dong:
Lawd have mercy.
George enters running.
George:
I don't know what you're in the middle of here, but you're going to have to stop it. See that glow through the woods? That's a forest fire, and it's coming this way. (Consternation among the campers.) I was over at the Florida folks' camp; all of a sudden two people came running through; a tall, White guy, elderly but vigorous, and a short, Black woman in her sixties. They were moving fast! Amazing how she kept up with him, those little short legs pumping away. In heels! (He pauses, remembering.)
Maggie:
And then?
George:
Chasing them are half a dozen guys in MAGA hats; and one of the MAGA guys, accidentally-on-purpose like, kicks the cookfire. Embers everywhere. The leaf litter went up as if it had been doused with gas. We've got to move out of here quickly! The woods are burning!
A few campers glance around uneasily, but all the others' eyes are on Tom and nobody moves. Tom takes a step toward Trumpaboo.
Tom:
You put your hands on Ma! On her privates!
Trumpaboo (giggles):
He said her privates.
Long Dong:
He ain't responsible! It ain't right! You done heard his crazy talk! He been done insane by his troubles!
Trumpaboo looks at him in horror.
Trumpaboo:
What did you say?
Long Dong:
I said you been done insane!
Trumpaboo:
Burning woods! Done insane!
Turd Chorus:
It's coming for you.
Trumpaboo:
Did anybody else hear that?
No one indicates that they did. Trumpaboo looks around wildly, seeking any sign that anyone else heard what he heard, then fixes his eyes on Tom's axe, the blade now at shoulder height. Letting out a shrill scream, Trumpaboo whirls around and dashes into the forest.
Trumpaboo:
You can't catch me! You can't catch me!
Tom turns his attention to Long Dong.
Long Dong:
Oh, lawdy. Feets, don't fail me now!
Long Dong takes off into the forest after Trumpaboo.
Pa Joad and Ma Joad fall into each other's arms. Tom drops his axe and joins them.
The roar of the forest fire is becoming audible. It will continue to grow through the remainder of the scene, as will the lurid light it casts, taking over from the waning evening..
George:
We need to get a move on, folks. We might just have time to pack.
People begin to detach themselves from the drama they have just witnessed. At first, they move slowly, as if it were all too much to absorb, then they hurry towards the tents and begin to disassemble and to pack.
Their activity freezes whenever the Turd Chorus starts talking, and resumes as soon as it stops.
Turd Chorus:
I'll be all around in the dark. I'll be everywhere. Wherever you can look - wherever there's a fight so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad. I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry and they know supper's ready, and when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build, I'll be there, too.
Tom:
Did anybody else hear that?
George:
Hear what?
Tom:
I dunno.
George:
You're a bit shaken up, son. Probably just the fire.
Turd Chorus:
That government of the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish from the earth. And in this sign you will conquer!
The fire briefly flares up, displaying the striped colors of the Rainbow Flag.
Tom:
There it is again.
George:
I didn't hear anything. Take a few deep breaths, Tom. We need you to be steady, now. Fasten your mind on this: Let's keep on keeping on. Keep on keeping on. What else is there to do?
This time, when the Turd Chorus begins singing. the campers continue their activity. The Chorus' voices mingle with the oncoming flames. After the first few lines, the campers gradually, one by one, join in until by the end everyone is singing. If possible, the audience should be invited to sing along, ideally by projecting the lyrics on the backdrop with a "follow the bouncing ball" graphic, or by some other means.
Turd Chorus, et al. (to the tune of "Solidarity Forever"):
They baffled us with bullshit while the world was burning down.
Crappy jobs at crappy wages, poisoned earth and air and ground
were all they ever gave us; but for ourselves we've found
in union we are strong!
[Chorus] Solidarity forever!
Solidarity forever!
Solidarity forever!
In union we are strong!
They filled our lives with plastic, lies, and racist fantasies.
In us, they see just data, and not humanity.
They count their bucks in billions - but in billions so are we.
In union we are strong!
[Chorus]
They tell us whom to love and hate and when we must give birth.
They don't give a damn about us when we're walking on the earth.
We're just units of consumption - that is all they think we're worth -
but in union we are strong!
[Chorus]
It is we who pick the crops; who build the cities where they trade;
who dig the mines and wait on tables; by us, beds are made
we can't afford to lie in; now the piper must be paid!
In union we are strong!
[Chorus]
They have taken untold trillions that they never toiled to earn,
but without our brains and muscles not a single wheel can turn.
We can break their haughty power, gain our freedom when we learn
In union we are strong!
[Chorus]
In our hands is our salvation from their power and their greed.
We can beat their thugs and money. We've got everything we need
to brave the pain of birthing a new world of liberty.
In union we are strong!
[Chorus]
Tom:
Keep on keeping on? Yeah, we can do that. Always have. And maybe something more.
CURTAIN
To enquire about performing, email eastterracebooks@gmail.com.
