Issue 1 • Spring 2002 • Featured Writer • Drama

Critical Mass

a short play

Prince Gomolvilas

CHARACTERS

A,
a man,
any age

B,
a man,
any age

C,
a man or woman,
any age

D,
a man or woman,
any age

(A park. "A" sits on a bench, a rubber band wrapped around his hand, a newspaper at his side; he keeps his eyes straight ahead until noted. Pause. "B" enters.)

B
Hey, thanks for co--

A
Don't look at me.

B
What?

A
Don't look at me.

B
(Turning away:) What's going on?

A
Sit down, pick up the paper, start reading it, pretend you're not talking to me.

B
But I am talking to you.

A
I know. Just don't move your lips too dramatically.

B
How am I supposed to do that?

A
Remember when you played with puppets when you were a kid?

B
No.

A
What do you mean "no?"

B
I never had puppets.

A
You never had puppets?

B
No.

A
Well, you've seen people with puppets, right? Or ventriloquists? Like on T.V. or somethin'?

B
Actually, no.

A
What do you mean "no?"

B
I've read about them, seen pictures. But never in real life or on T.V.

A
You are lying.

B
I'm not lying.

A
Shut up; just sit down.

("B" sits down, keeping his eyes straight ahead, pretending to read the paper.)

A
You've never seen Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop?

B
Not really.... I read about her death in the paper though.

A
But you've never seen her? Like on T.V.?

B
Uh-uh. (Pause.) Are you being followed?

A
What?

B
Is someone following you?

A
No.

B
Then what's going on?

(Pause. "A" turns to "B," snatches away the newspaper. "B" turns to "A.")

A
All right, I just wanted to get an inkling of what it felt like to do that, is all.

B
Do what?

A
A scene like we just played out, you know, like in the movies.

B
You are a sick, sick man.

A
It's not my fault that... (Snaps the rubber band against his palm.) Oww!!! ...that I have issues.

B
The reason I called you to meet me here is because I just broke up with my girlfriend and I need you to be my emotional dumping ground.

A
Hey, do you think Lamb Chop was on Shari Lewis's hand during the open casket funeral?

B
Why don't you ever listen to me? We always end up talking about what you want to talk about, and that invariably means we end up talking about you.

A
That's because I'm interesting. (Snaps the rubber band against his palm again.) Oww!!!

B
What are you doing?

A
You, on the other hand, are not very complex. You broke up with your woman. Boo-hoo. What a surprise. You can't make relationships last. It's because you're afraid of intimacy. I know that's all very textbook and clichéd, but, hey, so are you.

B
I happen to be a very intimate person.

A
Yeah, with yourself. (Snaps the rubber band.) Oww!!!

B
Will you stop that?

A
I can't.

B
Why?

A
Look, here's why I asked you to come here:

B
You didn't ask me to come here! I called you!

A
Listen to me. I think I'm straight.

B
What?

A
I think I'm a heterosexual.

B
You are not a heterosexual.

A
Yes, I am.

B
You're an interior decorator, for Christ's sake.

A
Please. I'm serious about this. I really do, in my heart of hearts, think I'm straight.

B
Well, that doesn't mean anything. Last week you thought you might be half monkey.

A
Gimme a break. I was depressed. And I craved bananas. You'd draw the same conclusion too, if it were you. (Snaps the rubber band.) Oww!!

B
Stop that!

A
I joined this group.

B
What group?

A
They said they could convert me.

B
From monkey to man?

A
From gay to straight. I'm doing this conversion therapy.

B
"Conversion therapy." Oh, God, what does this involve?

A
Well, for one thing, every time I have a gay thought-- (Snaps the rubber band.) Oww! I snap this rubber band. It's supposed to condition me not to have gay thoughts anymore.

(Pause. B starts laughing.)

A
What?

B
Nothing.

A
No, no. What?

B
You know how midgets are inherently funny? (Gestures to the rubber band.) This is sort of like that.

A
Why won't you support me on this?

B
You're hurting yourself.

A
I'm conditioning myself. (Snaps the rubber band.) Oww!!!

B
Pretty soon you're going to draw blood. Then what're you going to do?

A
Then I'll switch hands. And there's always my ankles.

B
You're happy with the fact that you're tearing the flesh right off of your body?

A
It's working.

B
Blow job.

A
(Snaps the rubber band.) Oww!!!

B
Anal sex.

A
(Snaps the rubber band.) Oww!

B
Man-to-man mouth-kissing.

A
(Snaps the rubber band.) Oww!!

B
Bette Midler, Barbra Streisand, Madonna.

A
(Snaps the rubber band three times.) Oww, oww, oww! Stop it! You're hurting me!

B
You're hurting yourself! When does this rubber band therapy end?

A
In two weeks. It's gonna coincide with this big rally at the convention center.

B
A rally for what?

A
People who believe in decency and honesty and America are gonna be there. People going through what I'm going through. Thousands are expected to show. Solidarity, you know, in the face of, you know what? A bunch of crazy people, a bunch of people like you, have made death threats. They've publicly announced that snipers will be hiding all around the convention center and they're gonna randomly open fire. Is that crazy or what? All the more reason we all should show, demonstrate that we won't be threatened by subversion and hostility and narrow-mindedness. Why don't you come with me?

B
I happen to think people should be who they are.

A
Oh, how liberal of you. I suppose you think it's in the genes.

B
No. I think it's in the soul.

(Crossfade to a convention center. "A," with bleeding hands, wanders amidst the noisy crowd. "C" & "D" enter, awed at the sight of "A.")

C
Oh, my God!

D
Dear God!

A
What?

C
You're bleeding!

D
You're bleeding from the palms!

C
Stigmata!

D
The wounds of Christ!

C
Jesus Christ!

D
You bear the mark of our Savior!

A
These aren't the wounds of Christ. It's conversion therapy.

C
This must be a sign!

D
A sign from God!

A
A sign of what?

C
Our keynote speaker couldn't make it.

D
And we prayed for God to bring us someone.

C
And He's brought us you!

D
A modern day messiah!

A
I have a fear of public speaking.

C
Come with us!

D
Come!

(Crossfade to a podium. "C" stands behind the podium. "D" stands close by. A crowd of thousands looks on.)

C
May I have your attention, please. It is time for our keynote address. Our scheduled keynote speaker, who shall remain anonymous, was unable to appear. In his place, we have a gentleman who refuses to give his name. But that's okay. He is bleeding from his palms.

(Gasps from the crowd. "D" leans toward the podium.)

D
He was delivered to us by God.

(Wild applause. "A" enters and stands behind the podium.)

A
Um...hi, everybody. I'm...not sure what to say exactly, and I'm not sure if I should even be, uh, doing this. Um...God.

CROWD (off-stage)
Amen.

A
You know how Jesus Christ said, "Love thy neighbor as thyself"...? Well, um, what if you're a masochist?

(The crowd is silent.)

A
Uh...that was a joke.

(The crowd laughs.)

A
Hmm. What else...? Uh...I just finished reading this book called The Hundredth Monkey. You want me to talk about that?

CROWD (off-stage)
Amen.

A
Okay, well, it's about this group of a hundred monkeys that was being studied off the coast of Japan. And one day one of the monkeys in the group started to wash his potatoes in the salt water. And pretty soon all the monkeys in the group began doing the exact same thing. But here's the interesting part: When a certain number of monkeys in the group started doing this potato-washing thing, when this activity reached what is called a "critical mass," a group of monkeys a hundred miles away also began washing their potatoes in the water the exact same way, even though they had never come into contact with the first group of monkeys. So what does this mean? Well, it is my humble opinion--

(The sound of gunshots. The sound of chaos. "A" falls to the ground, dead. Crossfade to the park. "B" sits on the bench, reading a newspaper. Pause. "B" puts the paper down.)

B
(To the audience:) I dreamt last night that my friend was still alive and well and living in Paris. But he was an angel. An actual angel. Wings and everything. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And he began flapping his wings, and he started to fly, and I so desperately wanted to go with him. And I followed him as he flew in the air, not too far from the ground. And I reached my hand up, and I asked him to take me with him. But when he extended his arm towards me, I saw that he was missing his hands. I was inches, just inches from gripping onto his wrist, but I couldn't do it. Had his hand been there, I could've grabbed him. But soon he picked up speed and flew away and disappeared. And I was suddenly standing on the shore of an ocean, a vast and infinite ocean, where I bent over slowly and began washing my hands in the water. And I got the very strong sense that God was watching me, and He was watching, as well, hundreds, maybe thousands, maybe even millions of people of all different kinds all around the world doing the exact same thing that I was doing. We all, together, silently, carefully, delicately, we all washed our hands.

(Pause. Fade to black.)

Prince Gomolvilas is playwright-in-residence at the New Conservatory Theatre Center. He is the author of Big Hunk o' Burnin' Love, Seat Belts and Big Fat Buddhas, The Theory of Everything, Debunking Love, and Bee. He is the recipient of the International Herald Tribune/SRT Playwriting Award, Julie Harris Playwright Award, PEN Center USA West Literary Award for Drama, and a grant from the NEA/TCG Theatre Residency Program for Playwrights. His play, The Theory of Everything, will be available from Dramatic Publishing this spring. His short film (co-written by Robert C. Barker), Mulholland Drive Support Group, and other writings can be viewed at www.princegomolvilas.com.

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