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BACK NINE
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Dramatis Personae: Mona Trieste, a 60-something
hottie Paul B, a 60-something
nottie the wind Barquentine, a cat (A bed, in a
bedroom, in a small house in south Mona: Paul B? Paul B:
Mm. Mona:
Have you ever wondered why heaven is up and hell is down? Paul B:
What? the wind: (riffling
the pages of the Naked Fat People Against Type 2 Diabetes charity
calendar on
the wall)
Ffffffffttttt. Mona:
Well, heaven is a good thing and it’s up, like in the sky.
And
hell is a bad thing and it’s down, like in the center of the earth.
Why? In
reality, we are a lot closer to the earth than we are to the sky. So
why
wouldn’t heaven be beneath the earth, and
hell be in the sky? Paul B:
Because we bury people in the earth, and
everyone goes to hell, therefore hell is below us. Now I’ve got one for
you:
How
come our rockets are phallic-shaped, but we
always think of ships
from
outer space as being disk-shaped? Huh, tell me that. Mona:
That’s easy. Didn’t you ever go to college? Feminist
theory
proves that it’s because males want to attack outer space aliens,
and
impregnating them is the purest form of aggression. Paul B:
I hope you are joking. Mona:
We are never entirely serious, and we are never entirely
joking. the wind:
(blowing
out one of the candles on the dresser)
John
Standridge said
that. Mona:
Seriously, that’s what Professor Wolff taught. She — Paul B:
She — that figures. But a great name for a
feminist theorist! Mona:
What would you know about feminist theory? Paul B:
Uh oh, sounds like an argument brewing. Mona:
Well, if we’re going to have an argument, it might as well
be
about having sex with aliens. Paul B:
How did you know I’m an alien? Mona:
What other possible explanation could there be for your
existence? Paul B:
My thinking exactly. Mona:
If there were aliens, do you think they would know they
are
aliens? Paul B:
Maybe yes, maybe no. Mona:
Come on, you have to do better than that. This is a
conversation
we’re having here. Paul B:
OK, if I were an alien – which I am – would I
know that I am an alien? Alien compared to what? Everything is alien to
everything else, like
– Mona:
Enough with the blowing-it-up-into-cosmic-size thing. Just
stick
to the point. Would aliens know they are aliens? Paul B:
—like apples and oranges, like cats and dogs,
like day for night, like Jules et Jim, like – Mona:
—like Jesus Christ, give me a break. Paul B:
Exactly. Like heaven and hell. Right back
where we started. Great conversation! It all ties together. Maybe an
alien
impregnated
the Virgin Mary. Someone’s probably had that idea before. This is when
I really
wish I’d read more science
fiction. I wonder if Roky Erickson ever
wrote a
scifi novel. Mona:
Not that he can remember. But there’s his unproduced film
script
“Tetragrammaton”. Paul B:
To star Shem Hammephorash. Mona:
On leave from The Three Stooges. Paul B:
I’m still wondering if there’s any literature
about Mary being impregnated by aliens. Mona:
Let’s Google it. Paul B:
Oh yeah, that’ll be fun. 72 million hits on
abduction sites. Just who I want to spend time with. Mona:
OK, well let’s narrow it down and search on Google Scholar. Paul B:
Great. All the scholarly research on Jesus as
alien. Mona:
Half alien. Paul B:
Yeah, like Barack Obama was half-black. Hey,
how come no one ever called him half-white? I think that’s racist. Mona:
Let’s get back to sex with aliens. Paul B:
Do you realize that earthlings have not yet
had sex in outer space? Think of all the thousands of hours spent
orbiting, with
no
one getting lucky. Mona:
That should be the next mission. Paul B:
Ride, Sally, ride. Mona:
Name the spaceship The Mustang. Paul B:
Ride, Sally, ride. Mona:
The whole nation, galvanized as one, rooting for our
intrepid
astronauts as they execute the carefully rehearsed plan. Paul B:
We have lift-off. Mona:
Paul B:
Hand me those pliers. Mona:
Abort! Paul B:
Where’s Slim Pickens when you need him.
(A long pause. The houselights dim.) Paul B:
Mona? Mona:
Mm.
(The houselights come back up dimly.) Paul B:
Speaking of what possible reason there could
be for my existence, did you ever read Ionesco’s only novel, The Hermit? Mona:
No. Paul B:
My memory tells me that it has the most
concise statement of existentialism ever: There’s no reason for me to
live, but
I don’t
want to die. Mona:
I love paying taxes. It’s how I help people. Paul B:
We have too much healthcare. Mona:
Unhappiness is a part of happiness. the wind:
(ringing
the neighbor’s windchimes)
Nigel Edward
said that. Paul B:
What? Mona:
We are not really very evolved, are we. Paul B:
Well, since time and space are infinite,
evolved from what? to what? If something is infinite, it can’t be
measured. If
it can’t be
measured, how do we know it exists? Mona:
Right, time and space do not exist. Paul B:
That explains a lot. Like why I can’t find my
toenail clippers. Mona:
We must have evolved, because otherwise how did we invent
toenail clippers? Paul B:
How do you know that toenail clippers have
not always existed? Mona:
I take it on faith that toenail clippers have not always
existed. Paul B:
Evolution is an inexorable march to… Mona:
What? Paul B:
Survival of the fittest. Mona:
Define fit. Paul B:
Winning. Mona:
What if evolution is broken? Or passé? Or usurped?
Consciousness
could be the great usurper. Paul B:
Do you think that consciousness evolves? Mona:
Apparently not, judging from human history. It seems that
it
doesn’t matter whether we remember the past or not, we are
doomed to
repeat it. Paul B:
Archetypes imprint deep. Mona:
We think of evolution in terms of plants and animals, but
we
have no perspective on how evolution affects humanity, because
there
hasn’t
been enough time. For all we know, consciousness trumps evolution, and
you can
forget all about Paul B:
Yeah, now it’s about technology. Mona:
It seems likely that humans’ inventions will impact the
world
much more and much faster than evolution will, in the same
time-scale. Paul B:
Meanwhile, evolution must still be working on
plants and the other animals, right? Mona:
Yes, but our impact travels faster than evolution can, so
plants’ and animals’ adaptations can’t keep up with the changes that
we
bring
to the environment. The fact that my neighbor’s cat comes from a breed
that has
selected for the trait that knows
how to avoid being
run over by a
train, is
not going to save her from getting run over by a Segway. Barquentine:
(scratching
at the door)
[Let me in.] Paul B:
Damn cat. Mona:
Oh Barksy. C’mon, let him in. Barquentine:
(banging
on the door)
[What she said.] Paul B:
(rising
to open the door)
Damn cat. Barquentine:
(jumping
on the bed)
[About time.] Mona:
Good Banksy! Paul B:
(pushing
the cat aside) Need a bigger bed. Barquentine:
(refusing
to be budged)
[Need fewer people in
the
bed.] Paul B:
(trying
to pick up the cat) Damn cat. Mona:
Oh let him stay. Barquentine: [What
she said.] Paul B:
(exasperated)
Want a martini? Mona:
You go ahead. I’ll just have a port. the wind:
(flapping
the curtains which almost knock over a lamp
Ffffffflllppppp.
Paul B:
(from
the kitchen)
Another party heard
from.
© Craig Van Dyck
May 2009
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