Avenues of Attack

A play in One Act by N. Peter Johnson TIME AND PLACE: Yesterday, at a bus stop outside a small caf in a small town, a stone throw away from nowhere. AT RISE: Seated on the bench is an elderly lady dressed in black. She has a bag on the bench next to her, a suitcase by her feet, and reads a trashy romance novel by a street light that overhangs the bench. (From off stage: Headlights sweep past and the sound of a vehicle tearing off is heard.) STANLEY: (Yelling off stage.) And when I cried during The English Patient? I faked it.

(STANLEY enters. He is carrying a guitar case holding his worldly belongings held closed by belts. He is a disheveled you trying hard to be a James Dean road poet type and is failing miserably. He finds silence uncomfortable.) STANLEY: Great. Just great. (Pulls out PDA and types.) Guess what? My status is now changed. How do you like them apples. Serious relationship? Not anymore. I am now its complicated. And just so our friends are aware. A little bird tweeted, Emma tells Stan, Eat excrement and die. (Places PDA back in pocket. It chirps. He pulls it back out. Reading.) Stan has small personality. Funny. Very mature. You wanna play like that? Fine. Great. Off my friends list. She couldnt have said shit. The nerve of some people. Willing to verbally flay me, but unwilling to use the proper verbiage. Always prim and proper. (Imitating her.) Oooo Stanley, lets go into the bedroom and Hump? No, no. Too graphic. Screw? Too pornographic. Do the nasty? Degrading. Make the beast with two backs? For shame! What is it were looking for? Thats right! Make sweet tender love. Well excuse me if I like it a little down and dirty. (Humps guitar case.) Yeah, you like that? Oh yeah. I bet you do. (Realizes a woman is watching him. Switches to pretending hes playing a guitar.) Its seems we have a lovely evening for a bus ride. (Begins to sing.) Leaving on a bus ride Dont know when Ill be back. Lied? Tried? Snide? Hide? Byed? Cried? Cried. Leaving on a bus ride Dont know when Ill have time to Shit. MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Its a jet plane you schmuck.

STANLEY: And a good evening to you too. Id apologize and say that I didnt see you there, but the truth be told, I did and Im not above airing my dirty laundry to the unwashed masses at large. Say, you look like a lady thats been around the block a few times. What do you call it when you bump uglies? MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY: Have you escaped from the nuthatch?

Not this evening.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: I wasnt aware there was one in the area. That would explain why no one is living in this (Something incomprehensible in Yiddish). Who would want to be neighbors with a bunch of people playing with their own(to him) excrement? Should I call the nice men in the white coats, so you can get your happy pills?

STANLEY: Ah, the elderly. Always so pleasant. Let people say theyre a drain on society. I for one, love them all. Headed to Big Apple are we? (Heads for tag on MRS. Goldsteins suitcase.) MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY: Keep your distance.

I was just curious. Im headed there myself. Do I strike you as someone who would care?

MRS. GOLDSTEIN:

STANLEY: So full of life. And when people ask me if I mind half my paycheck being violently ripped from my hands, so they can wear ugly shorts and play golf, I say not at all my good sir, not at all. (A long pause as they size each other up. STANLEY then sees there is nowhere, but the bench to sit and changes gears.) My name is Stanley. Stanley Jones. (Eyeing him over her book.) MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY: Procreation.

Tempting, but Im not ready to settle down yet. I was answering your question.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY: I know.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN:

Schmuck.

(STANLEY moves towards the bench while MRS. GOLDSTEIN places her bag in the middle of the open space.) STANLEY: O.k. Thats fine. I am just going to hang out right over here by the curb. Nice curb. Good, solid curb. I mean, who am I to point out that there is only one bench for people to wait for the bus. A large bench. A wide bench. A spacious bench. (MRS. GOLDSTEIN returns to reading. STANLEY attempts to occupy himself, but fails.) STANLEY: So, whats in the bag? Smuggling dope down from Canada are we? Ive heard about your type. Criminal masterminds poising as the elderly. Devious! Dastardly! Duplicitous! Id give you twenty for a nickel bag. MRS. GOLDSETIN: Thirty. (MRS. GOLDSTEIN begins rummaging through her bag.)

STANLEY: Youre kidding me right? No way. Frickin glaucoma or some shit? Youre getting the government dope. Nice. Plumping up the pension check with a little side action. Im hip to your groove. (Pulls out loose bills.) I havent tried it myself, but I hear good things. Good things, indeed. (MRS. GOLDSTEIN pulls a large knife from her bag and places it next to her on the park bench.) MRS. GOLDSTEIN: I just want to wait quietly here for the bus. Take crazy and go someplace else.

STANLEY: Sure. No problem. Lets see. I could wait hmmmmmm MAYBE AT THE BUS STOP?! Are you nuts?! You carry a machete in your purse?! This is what we need. The armed elderly. Gun totting geriatrics. Yes! This is perfect. Wonderful. Delightful. Spectacular! So, are you going to stab me with said knife? I see you draw unsuspecting victims to the bus stop where you kill them, with a very large knife, and take their money to fund your drug running excursions to Canada. Yes, you and Whistlers Mother. You know what? Fuck that. This is a public bus stop and that is a public bench and I, being part of the public, am going to sit on said bench. (STANLEY moves towards the bench. MRS. GOLDSTEIN picks up the knife and pulls her bag into her lap. STANLEY sits on the bench and they stare at each other until STANLEY feels he has won. Confident, he leans back, puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. MRS. GOLDSTEIN looks down the road left and right, shrugs, and stabs him in the leg. Stanley throws himself from the bench clutching his leg.) STANLEY: Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god you you (Carefully moves hands away from leg and realizes he is not bleeding.) You poked me. Really, really hard. With a fake knife?! (MRS. GOLDSTEIN returns her bag to its previous position and places the knife next to her again.) That really hurt. I think I have a bruise. Whats wrong with you? MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY: I told you to stay away.

(Spoiled child.) You never said anything about poking me really, really hard. Youve learned your lesson. Now I think it would be for the best if you were on

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: your way.

STANLEY: You know what? No. Ive had a very difficult time so far to night and I dont think its too much to ask for a little God damn common courtesy. MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY: Keep it up and dont come crying to me when youre smited by lightning.

I think you owe me an apology. Im waiting. Im sorry youre crazy. Now go away.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN:

STANLEY: No. You need to apologize, sincerely, and Im not leaving. Once you have apologized then I will take my seat and we will have a charming no, enchanting conversation about nothing of great importance until the bus arrives. Then I will bid you good evening and you will wish me luck in my travels and we will be on our way. I. I am able to forgive that fact that you have been rude and inconsiderate and barbaric and (Searches for word.) uncouth. MRS. GOLDSTEIN: it? STANLEY: What? Or do you hump it? Very well. Before I apologize I would like to ask you a question. Do you screw

MRS. GOLDSTEIN:

STANLEY:

Im sorry?

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: You must bump uglies with it, but that cant be right, because that would suggest a willing or acquiescent partner. STANLEY: Im afraid youve lost me.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Thats a surprise. Your thesaurus you schmuck. Im curious what your relationship is with it because you keep casually violating it. Oh, and Im sorry. Sincerely. Rapist. (MRS. GOLDSTEIN picks up her bag, places the knife inside, and places it on the ground at her feet. She looks at Stanley, then the empty space on the bench, and returns to reading her book.) STANLEY: (Blogging.) Received an impromptu grammar lesson from angry elderly dressed like shes going to a (Realizing she is in fact dressed for a funeral.) And on my home improvement page learn how to insert head tab A into ass slot B. MRS. GOLDSTEIN: (Making a choice.) Already been. It was very nice. The benediction was a bit winded and a flying rat made excrement on my umbrella, but Herman would have found it hillarious, so what can you do? STANLEY: Ah Jeez. Listen I get the picture. Thank you. (Knowing shes hooked him, pretends to return to

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: reading.) STANLEY:

So, who died? Herman. My husband.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY:

Ah wow. Thats tough. Im real

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: I got the picture. (Returns to reading. STANLEY shifts uncomfortably, then is drawn to the tag on her suitcase.) STANLEY: So, if youre from the city, why up here?

(As if preparing for war, MRS. GOLDSTEIN pulls a bobby pin from her hair and looks to STANLEY as if thinking of driving it through his eye then uses it to mark her page. She picks up her bag, places it in her lap, opens it, places the book inside, closes it, and returns it to its place beside her. Then turns to him with as much warmth as she can muster. Prepared for war.) MRS. GOLDTEIN: We bought grave plots here, because they were cheap. We didnt like the idea of being cremated. You can understand. (He doesnt.) Do you have any idea what a funeral plot costs in Manhattan? So, we bought plots here. A very reasonable price. STANLEY: But youre alone at a bus stop. What about Our son is dead. No other family.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN:

STANLEY:

What about No friends.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY: No

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY:

Self-employed.

How did you Fed Ex.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY:

I see. That must have been

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: They wouldnt let me bring him on the bus. They gave me a discount though He was a short man and I was able to fold him in half to fit him into the smaller package. STANLEY: Uh if youd like to talk about anything, I mean, this must be really uh difficult.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: I thought we were talking. Or maybe you were thinking we were going to have a moment or something. You want I should tell you how he liked to slap me around once and awhile and I secretly wished for this day. STANLEY: Did he? Did you?

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Beat me? No. Maybe if he did, it would have put a little spice back in the romance department, you know what I mean? The Catholics may be on to something who doesnt like a nice ruler now and then? And believe me, I have been a very naughty girl. What can you do? What about you? You like a little spanking once and awhile? As for wishing he would die well, when youre married as long as we were you cant help but think that occasionally, we had out share of the good times and the bad times, but at the end, did I want him gone? Yes. I mean once the flesh-eating bacteria had chewed through the flesh holding his intestines in (they had to use plastic wrap and duct tape to keep him from spilling out onto the floor) you get to thinking that maybe being dead isnt so bad. Just like my Herman, he ended up being allergic to the pain killers, so there was the constant screaming as it ate its way through him and they ended up having to tie him down after he clawed his own eyeballs out. The doctors told me the bacteria had made its way into his brain and that he was trying to get it out with his finger nails. Thats what you get for not listening to me Herman, I told him as he was laying there screaming and scratching, scratching and screaming. We had taken this cruise ship and I told him not to drink the water, stick to Scotch, but would he listen? Of course not. My advice to you, stick to Scotch. (Seeing her first tactic was failing, she changes gears.) Needless to say it was a close casket service. Not that Im complaining. Herman wasnt much to look at. You on the other hand. STANLEY: (Honestly trying to be helpful.) Its really great the way youre taking this all in stride. Do you think maybe youre still, like, in shock from this and it still hasnt really hit you, you know? I mean, when my uncle died, my aunt seemed like she was all cool with it at first and then she went kinda weird. Shed cry about oranges and stuff like that. MRS. GOLDSTEIN: We all deal with it in our own way.

STANLEY: Well, eventually my mom got her to go to a shrink and they got her on these pills and they seemed to help and I guess what Im saying is you know maybe you could get some pills or something? MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Thats sweet, but no. Im fine. I feel like Im just ready to start living again. Can I let you in on a little secret? STANLEY: Sure.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Most people seem to take this very somber approach to death, but for myself. Seeing that casket being lowered into the ground. Watching it as it penetrated the soil. This long, shiny object being lowered into a gash in the earth, well it just started the ol home fires burning if you catch my drift. STANLEY: Im not sure that I do.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Dont play coy with me. Surely youve realized that its just the two of us on this large, wide, spacious bench. I couldnt help, but over hearing that you just broke up with your girlfriend. Have you ever seen Breakfast at Tiffanys? You could be my George Peppard. STANLEY: I dont know if that such a good

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Youre right. Youre no kept man. Youre a loner. A wanderer. Just blowing into town for a single night of hot, torrid, animalistic STANELY: Hey! Wow. That is Ah I suddenly realized I am really hungry, you know? Like that, Im heading on a long trip and I need to stock up on the energy kind of hungry. MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Ill help you work up a man-sized hunger. Grrrrr.

STANLEY: I bet you could and boy. tempting. Do you know they dont serve meals on a bus? It is going to be a long ride. I think Im going to run down to the corner store and grab a bite to eat. MRS. GOLDSTEIN: STANLEY: What corner store?

Its just up the ways a bit. Couple miles at most. Quick little jogs down and back.

MRS. GOLDSTEIN: You dont have to run. Why not get something at the caf here? You ever have sex in a restaurant bathroom? Its to die for. Come on, Ill buy you a cheese Danish. You could eat it off my STANLEY: Thanks but uh no thanks. I am really craving a a one of those microwave burritos, you know, the kind you can only get at a gas station. Just my luck. Perfectly good caf right here and my body wants a burrito. What can you do? Should make it there and back with just enough time to catch the bus. MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Excellent plan. You stock up on that energy. Youre going to need it. Sex in a restaurant bathroom may be to die for, but sex in a bus bathroom? Thats the stuff that brings you back to life. While youre at the gas station could you get me some Preparation-H? Nothing gets me flaring like

sitting Shiva. (Hiking up her dress slightly.) You can think of the veins as a blue road map to paradise. Its been awhile, but I think youre in for a real treat. STANLEY: Hey, it has been really nice talking to you and you hang in there. Things will get better. Okay. Im going to go now. I dont think Im going to be able to catch that bus. (STANLEY exits then quickly returns to get guitar case.) MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Grrrrr.

(STANLEY exits again. MRS. GOLDSTEIN picks up her bag and retrieves her book and then places the bag in the space on the bench.) MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Schmuck.

(She checks her watch. Reaches into bag and pulls out a cell phone and dials a number.) MRS. GOLDSTEIN: Did you die in there? I told you not to have the chicken, but did you listen? Well, be polite and give them a courtesy flush. People are eating. I know you dont at home and I have to live with it. Yes, Im saving your seat. Yes, I knew it was the butler. Yes, your knife looks very real. No, Im not going to another of your brothers parties. Because Im always the victim and your brother spends the entire night saying, Dead people arent allowed to talk. You havent flushed. (Waits for flushing noise.) Im sure they thank you. Now get out here or youre going to miss the bus. Yes. Yes. I love you too my little boobala. (Hangs up.) Schmuck.