WITTE'S END
By
Evan Keliher
CAST OF CHARACTERS
PETER WITTE--Early fifties. Successful screenwriter and unsuccessful playwright.
CAROL--PETER'S ex-wife. Mid-forties.
RONA--Actress, thirtyish and sexy, nice legs.
MRS. CRAMER--PETER'S next door neighbor. Eighty years old with a taste for the grape.
FR. FINN--Catholic priest, twenty-four. Confused, but with a noble spirit.
JACK NOONAN--Peter's agent.
0FFICER-- Policeman about forty or so.
ACT 1
SCENE 1
SETTING: The apartment of PETER WITTE, a successful screenwriter and not so successful playwright.
AT RISE: The living room occupies most of the stage. A door at stage right leads out to the hall, another at rear leads to bedrooms. Door at stage left leads to kitchen.
The apartment is nicely furnished with a sofa, easy chairs, tables, etc. There is a combined wet bar and liquor cabinet at left. Books are prominently displayed, some good art works are in evidence, all indicating occupant has an interest in things intellectual.
PETER, a man in his early fifties, enters from the bedroom carrying an unlit cigar and tucking in a wayward shirttail. He moves to the couch and wearily sits down. Several newspapers are scattered around.
CAROL, enters from bedroom wearing a skirt and carrying her shoes. Her blouse is undone and she's adjusting her hair with one hand.
CAROL
You are depressed, aren't you? I can't remember the last time your spirits were so low you couldn't get the little general to stand at attention.
ETER
(Sighs audibly)
I wish you wouldn't use the diminutive, Carol. Things are bad enough without you casting aspersions on my manliness.
CAROL
Are you sure you're all right?
PETER
Of course I'm all right. Why shouldn't I be all right? My entire world is collapsing around my ears, dreams of a lifetime lie in tatters-why shouldn't I be all right?
CAROL
(Buttons blouse)
Nonsense. You can dream fresh dreams. You'll write another play.
PETER
No, I won't. I refuse to give the swine another chance at me. When
Bits and Pieces closes my theatrical career closes with it.
(CAROL is concerned. She hesitates, then sits on an ottoman facing him)
CAROL
It's really a very good play, Peter. The critics have no taste.
PETER
Harumph! Two of 'em didn't even bother to show up.
CAROL
Peter, the play's off-Broadway, the theatre is sandwiched between a
bordello and a flophouse. Some people are afraid to be in that neighborhood at night...
PETER
Oh, yeah? I noticed the bordello had lots of customers.
CAROL
Sure, but they were all from the flophouse.
(Pause)
I saw Jack yesterday. He says he needs another script. He tried to call but missed you.
PETER
(Sighs dejectedly)
Why not? I guess that's what I should be doing. Peter Witte, hack writer. B movie scripts, horror films, trash on demand.
(Beat)
Just another hack writer hacking out a living.
CAROL
Peter, you've got to snap out of this blue funk. You're not a hack. You're a very good writer. Bits and Pieces is an excellent play and a lot of people have said so. You've got to pull yourself together and get on with your life.
PETER
What life? Bits and Pieces was my last stab at life. I wanted it to work so I could get away from all those goddam horror movies and finally lay claim to some literary eminence and the play's going to close on me. I'm just tired of it all. I'm resigned to being what I am: just another hack writer. I should have cards printed up. Peter Witte, hack writer.
CAROL
I can't blame you for feeling a bit low under the circumstances. The critics weren't very kind. I wish there were something I could do.
(Beat)
Say, why wasn't Burke's review in the paper? He was there, I saw him myself.
PETER
Who knows? Maybe he couldn't find words to describe it.
CAROL
But he's the most important of them all. His word makes or breaks plays in this town. A good review from Burke would outweigh every one of the bad ones.
PETER
If the drama critic for the Times doesn't even bother to write a review, it's certainly not what one would call a good sign, is it?
CAROL
No, I guess not.
(Beat)
Anyway, it's a good play, Peter. I think it's the best work you've ever done no matter what that jackass Hanson says.
PETER
(Smiles wanly)
You've been a real pal, Carol. Sometimes I wonder why I ever divorced you.
CAROL
(Rises)
You didn't. I divorced you, remember?
PETER
Oh, yeah. Well, you shouldn't have.
CAROL
(Firmly)
Oh, yes, I should have.
(CAROL has finished dressing and she starts for the door. PETER rises and follows her. At the door he takes her arm and turns her
toward him and looks into her face and looks steadily at her)
PETER
Thanks for coming by, Carol. I...you've been...
(He stops and bends to kiss her lightly
on the lips. CAROL looks sharply at him)
CAROL
Are you sure you're all right, Peter? Maybe I should stay...
PETER
Don't be silly. I'm going to be just...fine.
CAROL
Look, I hope you're not so depressed that you'd do anything rash.
PETER
Rash?
CAROL
You know what I mean. Look me in the eye and tell me you aren't planning to do anything rash.
PETER
Have you ever known me to do anything rash?
CAROL
As a matter of fact, yes.
PETER
Not this time. I've found that truly monumental failure brings
clarity. I've never been so in control of myself.
CAROL
(She eyes him uncertainly)
I hope so, Peter. Listen, I'll call later and check in, all right? And
if Jack calls, think about doing that new script.
PETER
Trust me. I'll think about it.
CAROL
'Bye.
(She gives him a quick peck on the cheek and leaves. He closes the door and sighs heavily. He crosses to an end table where the phone rests and pulls out a drawer, reaches in and comes out with a large automatic pistol. He looks at it absently for a moment, puts it down, and takes up the phone's receiver. He punches "O" for operator and waits)
PETER
(Into phone)
Operator? Can you connect me with the suicide prevention hot line?
Busy? Well, this is sort of an emergency... I know I'm not the only would-be suicide in the city but...
(Listens)
Eight lines? Jesus, lady, they can't all be busy! What the hell's going on out there? Has everybody's play failed? Is there a clearance sale on bullets and ropes in this town? Oh, the hell with it. Maybe I'll just write 'em a letter.
(Listens)
Oh, you got through? Good. Hello? Are you the suicide prevention people? Yeah, look, I'm planning to do myself in and... Well, right now, as soon as I hang up. Why, do I have to take a number?
PETER (cont'd)
(Listens)
Oh, no, you don't. If I give you my address you'll rush over here and use the jaws of death or something and save my life. You don't? I'm not surprised. Nobody makes house calls these days. Look, all I wanted to know is, do I have to fill out any forms or get a permit from you people or...?
(Listens)
Good. You're doing a helluva job there.
(He hangs up and stares thoughtfully at the phone for a moment, then he picks up the gun and moves back to the couch and sits down. He still holds the unlit cigar in one hand. After a moment, the doorbell rings and he looks that way before struggling up and moving to the door. He opens it and RONA brushes past him and into the apartment)
RONA
(Waving paper)
Did you see these notices? Did you see what that bastard Hanson said about my performance? He had the nerve to say the role was beyond my range! Can you believe that?
PETER
What are you complaining about? He said my play was off-Broadway but not far enough off.
RONA
(Ignoring him)
Beyond my range?! After I've spent eight years in daytime soaps playing Vicki Vamp, ex-prostitute turned famous heart surgeon?
PETER
He said he had a better time in the bordello next door.
RONA
Why, that role was made for me. The casting was perfect. I can play
RONA (cont'd)
an ex-prostitute better than any ex-prostitute in this city. I breathed life into that part, I gave it depth and character and power and scope!
PETER
He said the script for Bits and Pieces should be torn into bits and pieces.
RONA
Was he even there opening night? Did he see me get that standing ovation after my prostitute-with-a-heart-of gold speech in the first act?
PETER
That wasn't for your speech, Rona. One of your boobs had popped out of your blouse.
RONA
No wonder they applauded. I've got great boobs.
(Throws paper down and drops into a chair)
Oh, that sonofabitch! What does he know about drama, anyway? What gives him the right to pass judgment on a work of art? That ignorant asshole thinks the Three Stooges are high art. He wouldn't know real acting from amateur night at the "Y".
PETER
Maybe not, but that won't change his review. The fact that the critic happens to be an ignorant asshole is entirely irrelevant. Let's face it; Bits and Pieces is a flop. It's a flop because they say it is. Hanson and the rest may have IQs in the moronic range but they can still turn a solid play into a flop with a few ill-chosen words.
RONA
The sonofabitch! Did you know he left after the first act? He didn't even have enough class to sit through the whole play. If he had he'd have seen the audience liked it even if he didn't.
PETER
Yeah, but they don't count. Only critics count. And the critics say we have a flop.
(They both lapse into a momentary
silence while each ponders his words)
RONA
What're we going to do?
PETER
Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to kill myself.
RONA
That's not funny, Peter.
PETER
You're right, suicide is not the stuff of comedies, but I've never been more serious.
(He picks up the gun on the table)
RONA
(Alarmed)
Peter! What are you doing with that gun?
PETER
What? Oh, I'm not going to shoot myself. Too messy. Besides, with my luck I'd miss and the bullet would go through the wall into the next apartment and kill old lady Cramer and I'd be arrested for murder and sent off to the big house and spend the next twenty years fighting off three-hundred pound cretins in the shower.
(He points the gun in front of his face and pulls the trigger and a flame pops from the barrel and he lights his cigar)
RONA
Oh! You scared me for a minute there. I thought you were serious.
PETER
(Rises and starts for liquor cabinet)
But I am. I'm just not using a gun, that's all.
(He goes to the bar and takes some keys out en route. He bends down and unlocks the cabinet, reaches in and starts taking out bottles of wine which he stands up on the bar)
RONA
Don't tell me you're going to drink yourself to death.
PETER
It happens that's exactly what I'm going to do-in a manner of speaking.
(RONA gets up and moves toward the bar)
RONA
Okay, Peter, enough suicide talk already. Let's just drown our sorrows in some of that wine and think up a lot of really original curses we can hang on that bastard critic's ass.
(She reaches the bar and starts to
pick up one of the bottles)
PETER
I wouldn't drink that if I were you. It may be poisoned.
RONA
Poisoned? What are you talking about?
(Five bottles are now on the bar and
Peter looks at them)
PETER
Just that. You see, I've planned this right along. I knew Bits and Pieces was going to be my my last attempt to make something of my life, one final shot at doing something worthwhile after all these years, and I decided to do myself in if the play was a failure.
(Picks up a bottle and studies it)
So I took these bottles of estate-bottled Chateau-Fleury Bordeaux I brought back from France last year, opened each bottle and put poison in one of them. I don't know which is which now. My plan is to drink this wine until I hit the right bottle.
RONA
I don't believe you. You're either putting me on or you're working out the plot of your next play.
(Reaches for one of the bottles)
Now pour me a glass of wine and let's get drunk.
PETER
(Holds out a small bottle)
Maybe you'll believe me now.
RONA
(Takes bottle, reads)
Concentrated curare! Is that...poison!?
(Shocked)
You aren't kidding! You really do mean to commit suicide!
PETER
(Gestures at bottles)
Yes. Would you care to join me?
RONA
But you can't do that! It's...it's against the law to kill yourself! (Beat)
Isn't it?
PETER
Yes, but...
RONA
Then you'll be arrested and...
PETER
And what? Sent to the big house? I don't think those three hundred pound cretins lurking in the shower will be much interested in a dead man, do you?
RONA
(Firmly)
Okay, Peter, this has gone far enough. I'm not going to let you kill yourself so you might just as well give up on the idea. You can just pour that wine down the sink and stop all this crazy talk. I don't find it very entertaining.
PETER
Okay, let's see. Which bottle has the poison? Have I chosen the fatal potion on the first try?
RONA
Peter, don't you dare drink that!
PETER
Don't be silly, of course I'm going to drink it.
(RONA panics and looks wildly about before suddenly turning and bolting from the apartment in a desperate attempt to get help. PETER moves to the large window overlooking the street below and stands framed there against the darkening skies as he gazes somberly on the city for a moment. He raises his glass in a kind of silent toast as the door bursts open and RONA rushes in with old lady CRAMER from next door. As they enter the apartment, PETER drinks the wine. RONA and MRS. CRAMER freeze and watch as all wait for the effects of the poison)
RONA
Oh, my God!
PETER
Hi, Mrs. Cramer.
MRS. CRAMER
Did you do it? Are we too late?
PETER
(Licks lips, feels pulse)
I don't think so. I don't feel a thing.
MRS. CRAMER
You said it was curare? Then you didn't drink it yet. Curare acts fast. The Amazon Indians use that stuff in their blowguns to shoot monkeys outta trees. You ever see 'em on TV? Those monkeys drop like stones when the curare hits 'em.
PETER
But it has something to do with size, too. I mean, I'm bigger than your average monkey, you know.
RONA
Yes, but not much smarter.
(MRS. CRAMER advances to the bar, picks up the bottle and reads label)
MRS. CRAMER
Chateau-Fleury, eh?
(Pours glass)
RONA
(Aghast)
You aren't going to drink that?
MRS. CRAMER
Why not? This bottle must be okay; he's still standing, isn't he?
(Eyes PETER)
'Course, I'll just wait a minute to make sure.
(They all stand waiting a minute to make sure. PETER cocks his head as though listening for sounds of approaching death)
RONA
It wasn't the poisoned bottle.
MRS. CRAMER
I think you're right.
(She downs the glass of wine)
RONA
Good. I think I'll join you.
(RONA moves to the bar and pours a
glass for herself)
PETER
(Moves to the bar and pours himself another glass)
Me, too. This is damn good wine. I'll just have another glass sans poison. Who knows? If the next bottle is the big one, I won't have a chance to savor it.
RONA
Peter, you've got to stop this craziness. You can't go through with it. It's immoral and illegal and stupid to take your life this way.
MRS. CRAMER
(Reaching for bottle)
Now, wait a minute. Suicide isn't always wrong, you know. In fact, it's becoming downright fashionable amongst people my age.
RONA
Hey, you're a lot of help, aren't you? Whose side are you on, anyway? I thought you'd help me stop him, not encourage him.
MRS. CRAMER
I'm just offering an alternative point of view here. It happens to be true that the suicide rate is very high for old people nowadays. Why, there isn't a week goes by that some old duffer down at the Club doesn't overdose on cough syrup or take the gas pipe or volunteer to baby-sit for a bunch of four-year-old grandkids...
PETER
What's baby-sitting for four-year-olds got to do with suicide?
MRS. CRAMER
What's it got to do with it? Harumph. It's plain you never had any kids. It's suicide for anyone my age, that's what. Try it sometime. If a day with a roomful of four-year-olds doesn't kill you, you'll wish it did.
PETER
(Reflecting)
Yes, you may have a point there. Sort of like seasickness, I'd imagine. You know, when you first get seasick you're afraid you're going to die and then you're afraid you aren't going to die.
MRS. CRAMER
That's a good analogy. Four-year-old grandkids are just like being seasick. Little perpetual motion machines, they are. Wind 'em up and they keep going until you're completely run down and turned into a nervous wreck. Believe me, many an old granny has met an untimely end at the hands of those little bastards.
(She tips wine bottle up to get last drop and reaches for a new bottle)
PETER
Uh, you'd better let me open that. It may be the poisoned one.
MRS. CRAMER
Don't worry about me, sonny. I'm eighty years old; what could possibly hurt me now? That's one of the advantages of being eighty; you don't have to be afraid of anything. I used to be afraid of flying, always thought the damn thing would crash in flames and incinerate me up, but now I don't give a damn anymore. I'll probably be dead by the middle of next week anyway so who's gonna worry about a lousy seven days one way or the other?
RONA
Sure, but you also might live another ten or fifteen years.
MRS. CRAMER
Hey, if I thought I had a chance to live I might feel different about it, but who calls this living? People my age don't actually live a whole lot, they just worry about getting a good night's sleep for a change and not falling down and breaking a hip or two. Nobody makes long-range plans after eighty, you know.
PETER
It's just as well. There's less disappointment then.
RONA
I think you're both quitters, that's what I think. Just because everything doesn't work out exactly as you'd like it to is no reason to kill yourself. You've got to stand up to adversity, look defeat in the face and grin.
PETER
(To MRS. CRAMER)
Sounds like a Kipling poem, doesn't it?
MRS. CRAMER
(Eyeing bottle.)
Yeah. Are you gonna open that new bottle or what?
PETER
(Picks up a new bottle)
Sure.
RONA
I can't believe this! You're actually aiding and abetting a suicide, Mrs. Cramer! You could be arrested for that!
PETER
And sent to the big house?
(Shrugs)
I don't think she'd have much to fear from the cretins, either.
RONA
I'm not going to watch this craziness any longer. I'm going to find somebody with some sense and put a stop to this once and for all!
(RONA turns and rushes from the apartment. They watch her go and then MRS. CRAMER nudges PETER and nods at the wine)
MRS. CRAMER
You were gonna open that?
PETER
I sure was.
(Pops cork)
There! Four bottles left, one a fatal draught and three containing only very good wine.
(Pours glass)
MRS. CRAMER
Relax. It's three-to-one we get a good bottle.
(Confidentially)
Say, did you really poison some of this stuff or is this just some kind of gag?
PETER
Why, don't you believe me?
MRS. CRAMER
I think it's a gag.
PETER
Oh, no. One of 'em is poisoned, all right. I mean business here, I'm quite serious. I'll drink until I strike pay dirt if I have to drink every single bottle.
MRS. CRAMER
What's the problem? Somebody dump you? Stock market clean you out? Can't get it up anymore?
PETER
No, no, it's nothing like that. I write bad movies and, apparently, worse plays. My latest play opened last night and it looks like it's a flop. Most of the critics panned it. It's another failure in a long string of failures and I just don't want to do it anymore.
MRS. CRAMER
(Shakes head)
Personally, I wouldn't kill myself over a bad play, at least not at your age.
PETER
Ah, but you don't understand, Mrs. Cramer. It's not just the failure of another play, it's not just another business deal gone sour; it's watching my last chance to be a real writer, a writer with a capital double-u, go down the drain.
(He moves to the window holding a glass of wine in his hand. As MRS. CRAMER follows him she shakes her empty glass and licks her lips in anticipation of more wine)
PETER (cont.)
Every real writer wants to do important work, wants to make a contribution to art, if you will, to do something that will live on after him and carry his name into posterity. It's why real writers write in the first place.
MRS. CRAMER
In other words, he wants immortality.
PETER
Exactly! Immortality. That's why we do it. Every writer-every artist-is driven by a tiny spark down deep in his heart that longs to escape death by creating something unique to himself that can never be duplicated by anyone else.
(Pause)
Only I can write my plays, Mrs. Cramer, and my plays are entirely and completely my own because they come from my inner-self and are a part of me. If they live, I live, too.
MRS. CRAMER
And if they die, you die.
PETER
Yes.
(Raises glass)
To...dying.
(He drinks the wine and stands waiting expectantly. MRS. CRAMER watches intently)
MRS. CRAMER
Feel anything?
PETER
I don't think so.
(She moves to the bar and pours a
glass of wine)
MRS. CRAMER
Good. I was hoping I'd get a couple more glasses of wine before I have to start mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
PETER
Wait a minute. Maybe I do feel something. A little dizziness. Like I'm just a bit off balance or something.
MRS. CRAMER
Can't be the curare. Remember those monkeys? Fell like stones, they did. The dart hits 'em, they wobble a time or two, and down they come. I think you're just getting a little drunk.
(She knocks back wine and wobbles noticeably)
And so am I.
(The door opens and RONA enters. She
stops and calls back into hall)
RONA
(Breathlessly)
Quick! In here, Father!
MRS. CRAMER
(To PETER)
She brought her father?
(FR. FINN enters. He is a Catholic priest in his early twenties but looks about sixteen. He wheezes from a long run)
PETER
(Pointing)
Who the hell is he?
RONA
This is Fr. Finn. I found him in the lobby.
PETER
It looks like you found him in a goddam Boy Scout troop. He can't be a priest; he's just a teenager.
FR. FINN
(Draws himself up, sternly)
I beg your pardon. I'm twenty-four years old. I've been out of the seminary for almost six months.
PETER
Okay, that means you're old enough to drink. Here, have some Chateau-Fleury.
(Pours glass)
RONA
Peter! Is that..?
PETER
It's okay, Rona. This bottle's okay. Here you go, Padre. To your health. How about you, Rona? You look like you could use some yourself.
RONA
(Plops on couch)
Oh, all right. God knows, I need something. What a day this has been! I wish I'd never left the soaps.
FR. FINN
So that's where I know you from! You played Vicki Vamp, ex-prostitute on The Spinning World!
PETER
You watch daytime soaps? I'm surprised they allow priests to watch that stuff.
RONA
And why shouldn't priests watch the soaps? They're good family entertainment.
PETER
(Shrugs)
Sure, if you come from a family where incest and rape and steamy sex and adultery and murder are regular occurrences. I hope the good Father comes from better stock than that.
FR. FINN
I assure you, sir, priests nowadays don't need to be sheltered from the realities of living in the twenty-first century.
MRS. CRAMER
He's right there. Half the time they ought to be sheltering the rest of us from what a lot of the priests are doing.
FR. FINN
(Defensively)
The Church has changed a good deal in recent times; in fact, there are those who think even greater changes are called for. We've come a long way, you know.
PETER
I thought that was lady smokers.
RONA
Father, this is Peter Witte. He's the one who's committing suicide.
FR. FINN
Oh, that's awful, Mr. Witte!
(Makes sign of the cross)
You can't be serious! That's a sin, and one of the cardinal sins at that. You'll go straight to hell if you commit one of the cardinal sins!
MRS. CRAMER
What's a cardinal sin? One only cardinals commit?
PETER
You know, I never could keep all those sins straight myself. Which ones are the cardinal sins again?
FR. FINN
Well, there's pride, gluttony, sloth, lust, anger, envy...
MRS. CRAMER
I guess that finishes me, then. I've already committed every one of 'em and a lot more besides.
PETER
I'm afraid you're a goner, all right, Mrs. Cramer.
FR. FINN
Nobody's a "goner" until he's gone, Mr. Witte. It's possible to be forgiven your sins as long as you don't die with unforgiven sins on your soul.
RONA
Nobody's going to die here, Father. Now do something to keep this nut from killing himself before it's too late.
FR. FINN
(Downs half a glass of wine, uncertainly)
Yes, uh, let's see...
PETER
I take it you're new at this business, Padre. Have you ever dealt with a would-be suicide before?
FR. FINN
Sure. I once talked a man down from a high ledge where he was threatening to jump.
RONA
So do what you did then.
FR. FINN
(Hesitates)
Uh, maybe if you'd get out on the ledge there, Mr. Witte...?
PETER
(Incredulous)
You want me to climb out on that ledge? Are you serious? We're fifteen stories up, for Christ's sake! Did you ever see Vertigo? You remember what happened to James Stewart? I'm not climbing out on any ledge just because you're used to working with ledge jumpers.
MRS. CRAMER
What difference does it make? You're trying to kill yourself, aren't you?
PETER
Maybe I am, but I'm a drinker not a jumper. Besides, what if I changed my mind on the way down? What then?
(FR. FINN nervously replenishes his glass of wine from the second bottle and offers it around to others. All accept refills)
FR. FINN
Maybe we could talk about why you want to kill yourself...
RONA
Because his play is a flop.
FR. FINN
That's it? One bad play and you kill yourself?
PETER
Four bad plays and I kill myself.
MRS. CRAMER
You've had four bad plays? Maybe you should kill yourself.
RONA
Mrs. Cramer, since we've got Fr. Finn here, I think we can handle things if you want to go home now.
MRS. CRAMER
Oh, no, you don't. I'm not leaving until I find out how this ends. Which bottle has the poison? Or is there really any poison at all? Will the boy-priest save Mr. Witte's life-and soul? Will the curare work the same on him as it does on monkeys?
(Cackles, rubs hand gleefully)
Wait'll I tell the girls at the Club about this! I'll stop fifty bridge players dead in their tracks with this story, by God!
RONA
Oh, come on, Peter, please stop this silly game. I'm getting a headache.
PETER
This is no game, Rona. Haven't you accepted that fact yet? I'm absolutely determined to do myself in before nightfall...
(He looks through window at the lengthening shadows)
...and the dark draws on apace.
(RONA scowls and sits dejectedly on ottoman and her fashionably short skirt rises and exposes considerable thigh. FR. FINN fixes his gaze intently on the sight and swallows hard)
MRS. CRAMER
(Somberly, looking out window at approaching night)
It's sort of like the final curtain falling, isn't it?
PETER
Aptly put, Mrs. Cramer. Maybe you should be writing the plays.
FR. FINN
(Coming to)
Look here, Mr. Witte, you can't go through with this. You have no right to kill yourself. Such an act is against the law, all the laws: moral, spiritual, legal, ethical...and...and natural law, too.
PETER
On the contrary, Padre, suicide isn't against all those laws. Take natural law, for example. Lemmings kill themselves. Millions of 'em throw themselves into the sea every few years in an organized mass suicide. And bees sting their enemies to protect the hive when they know they'll die as a result.
MRS. CRAMER
But the bees don't know they'll die, do they?
PETER
(To MRS. CRAMER)
Please. I'm trying to make a point here.
(To FR. FINN)
And what about army ants? Don't they routinely sacrifice their own lives for the good of the colony? Nature seems to condone suicide in those cases, doesn't it?
FR. FINN
Yes, but...
PETER
And as for your so-called moral law, doesn't the Bible say something about no man having greater love than he who lays down his own life for another? If not actually advocating suicide in some cases, isn't that at least approving it?
FR. FINN
Well...
PETER
And even our legal system approves suicide in certain situations. Haven't many states repealed anti-suicide laws in recent years? And the government actually encourages suicide in the case of spies who are captured by the enemy and faced with being forced to reveal state secrets. Remember Gary Powers and that U2 incident? Some people criticized him because he didn't take the poison capsule.
FR. FINN
All that may be true, but...
MRS. CRAMER
But he should have taken the capsule. Look at the embarrassment he caused poor Ike.
PETER
There, you see?
RONA
Mrs. Cramer...
PETER
Wait, we're not through yet. Aren't there whole cultures that have always approved suicide and recommended it as a useful and even beneficent act? What about all those Indian widows throwing themselves on their dead husbands' funeral pyres in the ancient and honorable practice of suttee?
FR. FINN
But...
PETER
And what about the Japanese? Suicide was so revered in Japan they published manuals in suicide etiquette so people could depart this vale of tears in a socially approved way.
(He goes to bar and pours more wine)
FR. FINN
I know all that, Mr. Witte, but...
PETER
And then there are lots of philosophical arguments favoring self-destruction. Take the existentialists, for instance. Don't they assert man's isolation in an indifferent universe and stress free-will and individual responsibility for one's acts? In other words, isn't living or dying finally a matter of one's own choice?
(Goes to window and stands framed in it)
Oh, no, dear Padre, suicide is a time-honored tradition, one that serves a real purpose and provides man with the ultimate word on his own existence. I would have it no other way.
RONA
That's all a lot of bullshit and you know it, Peter.
MRS. CRAMER
It makes a lot of sense to me.
FR. FINN
It doesn't make any sense to me. Aren't you forgetting the Church, Mr. Witte?
MRS. CRAMER
No, but I wish I could.
PETER
What about the Church?
FR. FINN
The teachings of the Catholic Church expressly forbid suicide in any case. It's a cardinal sin and a direct route to hell every time.
PETER
Even so, how do you know that will be the thinking of the Church ten years from now? You yourself said earlier that the Church is changing-and even added the opinion that it could do with even more change if memory serves.
FR. FINN
Yes, that's true...
PETER
(Interested)
What other changes would you like to see the Church make, Padre? Is there any particular area that's of special interest to you?
FR. FINN
Well, there's always the matter of celibacy for priests...
PETER
(Slaps thigh and laughs)
Ha! I knew it! I knew you'd be concerned about that little matter!
FR. FINN
(Defensively)
Oh, come on now. Are you claiming to be clairvoyant? How could you know I'd be concerned about celibacy?
PETER
How? For one thing, you can't seem to keep your eyes off Vicki Vamp's legs there.
(RONA looks down at her exposed thighs
and self-consciously tugs at her skirt)
FR. FINN
(Shocked, then flustered)
What? I don't know what you're talking about! Why, I've hardly noticed her legs. As a priest I'm trained to regard all women's legs as exactly the same, which is to say, I don't regard them at all.
PETER
So they're all the same to you, are they, Padre? Okay, then, answer this question for me. What kind of shoes is Rona wearing? Don't look!
FR. FINN
Why, they're, uh, black with, uh, high heels and...
PETER
And her stockings?
FR. FINN
Uh, they're black with some crisscrossing...
PETER
Now what kind of shoes and stockings Mrs. Cramer is wearing?
FR. FINN
Mrs. Cramer? Why, I think they're, uh...
(Starts to look)
PETER
Uh, uh! Don't look!
(Pause)
There, you see? You don't know because you haven't been looking at Mrs. Cramer's legs, Padre. I rest my case.
MRS. CRAMER
What kind of a test is that, for God's sake? What normal man is gonna notice my legs when Vicki Vamp here runs around in skirts so short they'd embarrass a blind man?
.RONA
(Offended)
Hey, wait a second...!
PETER
But that's my point. The Padre is as normal as any man and no normal man could keep his eyes off such a remarkable sight even if he is wearing his collar backwards.
(Beat)
But I'd know your views on celibacy even if you weren't gaping at Rona's legs, Padre. You're young. All young priests want celibacy abolished. Why shouldn't they? They're the ones who ought to care about it since they're the people most likely to benefit if it's ever dropped. Did you ever hear an old priest complain about celibacy? They don't give a damn any longer since the issue became an academic one for most of 'em years ago.
FR. FINN
(Bitterly)
You're right there! When the subject comes up at the rectory all the old priests say we should keep celibacy. They buy the Church line down to the last syllable.
MRS. CRAMER
And that's because they've gone without sex their whole lives and they can't stand the thought of you getting any now that it's too late for them.
FR. FINN
(Irritably)
It does seem unfair! I mean, what difference does it make? Does celibacy make one more holy or compassionate or dedicated? Is a man better able to serve God just because he's celibate?
PETER
No, but he's better able to serve the Church because it's cheaper to support one priest than a priest with a wife and a dozen or so kids. There's life insurance and braces and college tuition and $200 running shoes with special racing stripes and endless expenses.
(Shrugs)
It's all economics, don't you see that? None of it has anything to do with anything else.
FR. FINN
You're a cynic, Mr. Witte.
PETER
(Sighs)
All intelligent people are cynics, Padre.
RONA
So are all actresses.
MRS. CRAMER
And old people, too. Cynicism and old age are synonymous terms.
FR. FINN
(Wearily)
Ah, maybe you're right.
RONA
If you feel so strongly about this celibacy business, why don't you quit the Church and get married, Father?
FR. FINN
Oh, I don't think I could do that, Rona. I mean, I've made a commitment and all and...
PETER
The hell with the commitment! Chuck it all. Turn your collar around and go get an honest job. Everybody's doing it these days. The woods are full of ex-priests and nuns and erstwhile religiosos who have jumped ship and joined the real world again.
(Nods at RONA)
Think about it, Padre. You could have one of those all to yourself.
RONA
Hey, I'm not just a piece of goods, you know.
FR. FINN
(Eyes RONA, confused)
No, I don't think so. It's a big step. I mean, I'd have to think about it and...
PETER
Good idea, Padre. You think about it. In the meantime, I've got a problem of my own here. At this rate it'll take me all night to kill myself.
(PETER goes to the bar where three bottles of wine remain. One opened bottle has a glass remaining in it. He sets it aside and looks at the three left)
Let's see now. Which one has the deadly draught?
RONA
Padre, don't just stand there! Do something!
MRS. CRAMER
Yeah, work a miracle or something.
FR. FINN
A miracle?
PETER
(Interested)
Yeah, I'd like to see that myself.
(All look at FR. FINN expectantly.
The good priest hesitates, then
draws himself up)
FR. FINN
Okay, you want a miracle, you'll get a miracle.
(He takes his heavy crucifix from around his neck and holds it up in front of him. He intones something in Latin and brandishes the crucifix)
Help us , Oh Lord, to save this man from himself and stop him from committing suicide. Give us a sign, send a messenger to stop this evil deed!
(Suddenly there's a knock on the door. All turn in that direction)
RONA
It's a miracle!
FR. FINN
(Elated)
I did it! It's my first miracle!
MRS. CRAMER
That depends on who's out there.
PETER
Yeah, if it's the angel Gabriel, you've won a convert, Padre, but if it's somebody to collect the rent you'll have a tough time getting the Vatican to certify your "miracle."
(RONA hurries to the door and opens it. JACK NOONAN, PETER'S agent, enters)
RONA
Oh, Jack! Am I glad to see you!
JACK
(Suspiciously)
Hey, nobody's ever glad to see an agent. You guys up to somethin' here?
PETER
Rona's desperate, Jack. I'm committing suicide and she wants to stop me.
JACK
You're gonna kill yourself because of what that jerk Hanson said? Do the theatre a favor and kill him instead. The man's a total idiot. He wouldn't know good drama from a Saturday morning kid's TV show, for Christ's sake.
RONA
Yeah, did you see what he said about my lack of range? And in this role? I make a better ex-prostitute that any reformed hooker on TV!
JACK
Damn right you do, Rona. You're a natural for this part. You even look like a hooker.
RONA
(Indignantly)
Who looks like a hooker?
JACK
On the stage, Rona, on the stage.
RONA
(Mollified)
Oh.
(MRS. CRAMER pours last remaining glass in bottle and hands it to JACK)
MRS. CRAMER
Here, you're gonna need this in a minute.
JACK
(Absently)
Yeah. Thanks.
(JACK spots FR. FINN)
Hey, what's a priest doing here? I know Bits and Pieces got some bad reviews, but do you really think it needs the last rites?
RONA
He isn't here for the play, Jack, he's here because Peter's going to kill himself. Fr. Finn, this is Jack Noonan, Mr.Witte's agent.
FR. FINN
(Extends hand)
How do you do, Mr. Noonan?
JACK
Yeah, hi, Father, pleased to... Hey, what suicide? Is he...?
MRS. CRAMER
Rona's right, Mr. Witte's committing suicide. He poisoned the wine.
JACK
(Alarmed)
What?!
(He holds glass away from him and clutches his throat)
Whatta ya mean he poisoned the wine? Why the hell didn't somebody tell me, for Christ's sake? Get a goddam stomach pump, call the poison control center...!
PETER
Oh, shut up, Jack. Your wine isn't poisoned. I only poisoned one of these bottles and I haven't opened that one yet.
RONA
Look, Jack, Peter's pissed about Bits and Pieces and he thinks he's a failure as a writer so he's committing suicide. He put some poison in one of the wine bottles and he's going to keep drinking until he gets the poisoned wine. Mrs. Cramer lives next door and I got her to help me stop Peter from killing himself. When I found out she was on Peter's side, I had to get more help and I found Fr. Finn here.
JACK
(Looks around, frowns)
I don't like jokes about suicide. I haven't liked suicide jokes ever since I was a kid and my pet lemming died.
FR. FINN
But it isn't a joke, Mr. Noonan. Mr. Witte really is going to kill himself.
JACK
Pete, you can't be serious about this! Nobody kills himself over a bad review.
PETER
(Wearily)
But I've had four bad reviews in a row and I'm tired of it, Jack. I'll never make it as a real writer. Let's face it, I don't have what it takes, that's all. Bits and Pieces is written as well as I know how to write, it's the very best work I've ever done in thirty years of writing-and it isn't good enough.
(Shrugs)
I just don't want to do it anymore.
JACK
But Bits and Pieces is good, Pete. It's a helluva play. The dialogue is terrific, that characters are well-drawn and sharp, the acting's good...
PETER
Sure, but it won't last a week. The critics have already seen to that.
RONA
Hey, what happened to Burke's review? It wasn't in the Times.
JACK
Oh, didn't you hear? He ended up in the hospital last night. He got sick right after the last act. They said it was food poisoning. His review will be in today's paper.
RONA
Peter, did you hear that? Maybe he liked it. Maybe he'll give us a good review and Bits and Pieces will stay open after all!
JACK
Rona's right, Pete. A good review in the Times would keep it open for six months at least.
PETER
Sure, and a Pulitzer would keep it open for a year. Face it, Jack, it's a flop. The critics just don't like it
JACK
But that's part of the problem, don't you see? Bits and Pieces is a tricky play, people have to be able to see what you're trying to do with it, they have to allow themselves to get caught up in the imagery, accept what seems to be impossible. Hanson apparently wasn't willing to do that so he missed the point. That doesn't mean the play's bad, it just means one guy failed to go along with it. Burke's smarter than that asshole Hanson, maybe he caught on.
FR. FINN
Why don't you just go to this man Hanson and tell him he made a mistake? Maybe if you explain it to him he'll change his mind.
RONA
Boy, you don't know much about critics, Father. The author just can't go tell the critic he made a mistake and expect him to change his review. He'd be laughed off Broadway.
MRS. CRAMER
What's Mr. Witte got to lose? He's not even on Broadway.
PETER
Look, it's a closed matter. The reviews are already in and nobody's going to change 'em. The play is a flop and so am I and that's it.
JACK
But what about your movies? Where am I gonna get a script for the new horror picture Banner Films wants? I got a deal with those guys,
you get a hundred grand and two points, for Christ's sake. They've already got the money and Bill Mann's been signed to direct and...
PETER
Are you kidding? Any hack in Hollywood can write that script for you. Just change the names of the characters in the last one and they'll never know the difference. Those pictures are all alike.
FR. FINN
Do you mean there are people who will pay you a hundred thousand dollars for a movie script and you're killing yourself because you think you've failed as a writer? It sounds to me like you've got some pretty confused priorities here.
JACK
Listen to the Father, Pete. He's right. There are lots of guys out there who'd sell their mothers to be in your shoes. You're a damn good screenwriter, you sell scripts as fast as you can turn 'em out. If you don't call that being a success, I don't know what success is.
MRS. CRAMER
Sounds pretty good to me.
FR. FINN
And me.
RONA
That makes it unanimous then.
PETER
Well, it's not unanimous because I don't agree. Success is more than how much money you earn, and no one should know that more than you, Padre. Everyone puts his own value on things, there's an intrinsic value involved, a personal one. We all have our own ideas of what anything is worth, we all see things from a slightly different perspective. I don't consider writing B movie scripts being a success no matter how much money they pay me. A hundred grand isn't enough money for the price I want for my work now, not nearly enough. No amount of money is. I've reached a place in life where I want to be paid in something other than coin of the realm.
MRS. CRAMER
(Drily, studying empty glass)
You're an idiot, Mr. Witte. Your folks should have named you Half. I say take the money and run.
JACK
See? Even the senior citizens think you're crazy.
FR. FINN
I'm not sure I do now, Mr. Noonan. He's got a point. A lot of people want something more out of life than just money. What's wrong with aiming higher, reaching for the stars, trying to be the very best one can be...
MRS. CRAMER
Sounds like a Frank Sinatra song.
JACK
So he should kill himself then?
FR. FINN
No, of course not. Suicide is still a cardinal sin...
MRS. CRAMER
(Nods, chews)
...so only cardinals can do it...
FR. FINN
...and no man-not even a cardinal-can take his own life without incurring God's wrath, but I think we have to respect Mr. Witte's desire to make a mark in the literary world. We'd probably be better off as a whole if more people cared more for excellence than the almighty dollar.
PETER
Spoken like a true believer, Padre. You're a sensitive man after all, even if you can't put a collar on right-side out.
MRS. CRAMER
Oh, yeah? I say art for art's sake is a lot of crap. Look at Van Gogh.. Poor bastard lived on turnips and never made a dime from his art and ended up in a nuthouse and what'd he ever get for his trouble? I say he'd've been better off if he painted houses and got paid for his work.
PETER
Sure, Van Gogh would have been better off, but would we?
JACK
Say, have you got anything to drink around here that isn't poisoned?
PETER
Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to neglect my guests.
(Moves toward bar.)
Just a minute and I'll check out another bottle of this wine.
RONA
(Earnestly)
Wait! That's okay. We don't need any more wine. I'll put some coffee on. Or would anyone like a soda?
MRS. CRAMER
I'll take more wine, if you don't mind. I find a little wine is good for my lumbago.
RONA
Mrs. Cramer, you've already had enough wine for a whole ward full of lumbago patients. I say you need a nice cup of tea.
PETER
Give it up, Rona. I'm not quitting until I find the right bottle.
RONA
(Desperately)
Hey, wait! We still have a performance to do in...
(Looks at watch)
.... in about an hour. If we do any more drinking we'll be too drunk to work.
PETER
So what? They've probably already closed us down. I'll bet they've thrown our sets out and booked some lady mud wrestlers for tonight. I can see the marquee now.
(Gestures at wording on imaginary marquee)
"Bits and Pieces flops! All new show tonight! Direct from Cleveland, lady mud wrestlers featuring an all-new cast!!"
(Beat, forlornly)
Script by Peter Witte, professional hack.
RONA
Jesus, I give up.
PETER
(Cheerily)
All right, then. Time for another bottle.
(Studies bottles)
Three left. The odds are one out of three. Which one shall it be? Let's see...how about number...two!
MRS. CRAMER
(Caught up in tension)
No! Choose number three!
RONA
(Excitedly)
No! Take door number one!
(All turn and look at her. She grins sheepishly)
FR. FINN
Door number one?
JACK
What the hell is this, Let's Make A Deal, for Christ's sake?
RONA
Sorry. I guess I just got carried away.
PETER
Maybe Rona's right. Let's try number one.
RONA
No, don't! If it is number one I'd never forgive myself!
PETER
(Impatiently)
Okay, okay, I'll go with number two.
(He picks up the bottle as FR. FINN rises and raises the crucifix he's still holding)
FR. FINN
Stop in the name of God!
(All freeze and then turn to stare at the priest who's frowning mightily and holding crucifix aloft)
This is an evil thing you're doing, Mr. Witte, and as a Catholic priest I can't stand idly by while a mortal sin goes unchallenged before my very eyes. I'm ordering you not to drink that wine! If you do I'll...I'll...!
PETER
Yes?
FR. FINN
I'll...I'll hit you with this crucifix!
(All stop and stare incredulously at him)
RONA
(Shocked)
Fr. Finn!
MRS. CRAMER
(Disgusted)
And you call yourself a holy man!
JACK
Wait'll the pope hears about this!
PETER
That is a little extreme, isn't it, Padre? Hitting someone with a crucifix sounds like an even bigger sin than committing suicide.
(Starts to open wine)
Let's try this one and you can have a glass to brace yourself if it's okay.
FR. FINN
(Shocked at himself)
You're right. I don't know what came over me. I...I seem to be losing my grip. It's all been too much of a strain, I've been under a lot of pressure lately...
JACK
Wait a goddam minute here. The padre's right. We can't stand by and watch a man commit suicide without raising a finger to stop him. I say let's rush him!
(He crouches and assumes a menacing
pose and starts warily circling PETER)
RONA
Yeah! There's four of us and only one of him.
(She snatches up a vase and crouches, too)
FR. FINN
(Crouches and shakes crucifix menacingly)
You're right. We'll overpower him and pour the wine down the drain.
(MRS. CRAMER sighs heavily and picks
up the gun lighter)
MRS. CRAMER
What the hell, count me in.
(She brandishes the lighter and takes practice swings as she also
assumes a fighting crouch)
Drive him over here and I'll brain him for you!
PETER
(PETER is alarmed and backs off warily)
Hey, are you guys crazy? Somebody could get hurt here!
JACK
The jig's up, Pete. Dump the wine or we'll bash your goddam head in for you.
PETER
(Backing up and holding the wine bottle behind him)
Look, don't do anything foolish. If you go through with this, I refuse to be held responsible for any injuries you may suffer.
FR. FINN
You go around that way, Mr. Noonan, and I'll rush him from the front.
(In the ensuing struggle all are at least a little tipsy and it shows)
JACK
Right. Rona, when we grab him you belt him one.
MRS. CRAMER
(Cackling and dancing about)
Drive him over here and I'll brain him for you!
(Visibly shaken, PETER retreats as they advance. He circles back toward the couch when suddenly FR. FINN lunges for him. PETER ducks and the Padre sails over his head onto the couch)
PETER
Jesus, Padre...!
(As he turns to excoriate FR. FINN, JACK leaps on him and proceeds to cling to his back while PETER spins about)
JACK
Okay, Rona, belt him one!
RONA
(Trying to take aim with her vase)
Make him hold still, will you?
(PETER manages to throw JACK off and he retreats again. As he passes RONA she takes a swing at him with her vase and misses. Shocked, PETER turns to upbraid her and barely manages to duck
a sneak shot from MRS. CRAMER.
PETER retreats as the others warily follow him. FR. FINN crouches on the couch and brandishes his crucifix. All are panting heavily from the exertion)
PETER
Have you all gone mad? Somebody's going to have a goddam heart attack around here!
JACK
(Panting, circling)
Give up, Pete. We've got you outnumbered.
MRS. CRAMER
(Brandishing lighter)
Drive him over this way!
RONA
Pour the wine out before it's too late, Peter!
PETER
You'll never take me alive, by God! I'll drink this wine and kill myself if it's the last thing I ever do!
(PETER circles back past the couch and FR. FINN pounces on him. JACK lunges in and grabs him as RONA swings again and misses and the force of her blow carries her into the melee so that all fall tangled together. They thrash about and there is a considerable display of RONA'S first-rate nylon-clad legs, etc. MRS. CRAMER prances around the periphery waiting for a chance to brain PETER)
PETER
(Struggling)
Let go of the bottle! Get your hand out of my pants, you stupid bastard! You'll never work in this town again, Noonan...!
(After much struggling, RONA gets partly loose and raises her vase to belt PETER and someone's flailing hand grabs her blouse and rips it open so that one of her excellent braless boobs pops out
for all to see. RONA poses with flashing boob and raised vase)
JACK
Hit him, Rona! What the hell are you waitin' for?
RONA
(Looking at the audience)
I'm waiting for my standing ovation.
JACK
Will you hit the sonofabitch, for Christ's sake?! We can't hold him forever!
(RONA regains her senses and resumes the struggle. As she circles the fray the boob flashes dramatically as she's too caught up in the action to fix it. At last MRS. CRAMER hauls off and bangs the lighter against JACK'S head when PETER ducks. JACK goes down like
a felled tree and everyone stops and stares dumbstruck at his form)
RONA
Oh! You hit Jack!
PETER
Holy shit!
FR. FINN
You were supposed to hit Mr. Witte!
MRS. CRAMER
(Points at PETER)
It's all his fault He ducked.
FR. FINN
Gosh, is he...okay?
PETER
I don't know. He looks dead to me. Come on, let's put him on the couch.
(They grab JACK and lay him out on the couch and bend over him. RONA tucks her errant boob inside her blouse and buttons up at this juncture)
RONA
Jack? Jack! Wake up!
MRS. CRAMER
You're in big trouble now, boy. You'll be up on manslaughter charges if he's dead.
PETER
Whatta you mean me? You're the one who hit him.
FR. FINN
Mr. Noonan? Are you all right?
(To RONA)
Could you get some ice, Rona? He's got a nasty bump on his head.
RONA
Oh, yeah. Ice. Right.
(RONA starts for the kitchen)
PETER
Maybe we should use the Heimlich maneuver on him.
MRS. CRAMER
Good idea. Let's get him on his feet.
(They struggle to get JACK up and turned around so PETER can get behind him and wrap his arms around him. JACK is like a two hundred pound sack of flour, though, and they end up in a
Three Stooges-like schtick. MRS. CRAMER manages to get in the way. RONA returns with the ice and sees them)
RONA
What the hell are you doing? You're killing him!
PETER
What? We're just using the Heimlich maneuver on him.
RONA
(Pulling PETER away from JACK)
Are you nuts? The Heimlich maneuver is for people who are choking, you idiot!
(She gets JACK back on the couch
and looks into an eye)
MRS. CRAMER
Hold a mirror up to his mouth and see if he's breathing.
PETER
Yeah, who's got a mirror?
RONA
There's one in my purse. Over there.
PETER
I'll get it.
(PETER gets the purse and digs in it to find the mirror. He throws stuff out)
Jesus, this thing's a bottomless pit. Ah, here it is.
(PETER moves to JACK'S side and puts the mirror up to his mouth and leans in to see the results)
Hey, it's not working.
FR. FINN
Can't you see moisture on the mirror?
PETER
What moisture? I can't even see his reflection.
MRS. CRAMER
What?! That means he's a goddam vampire!
(RONA leans down and takes the mirror from PETER)
RONA
You've got it backwards. Turn the damn thing around.
FR. FINN
It's CPR! That's what he needs! We should be giving him CPR!
MRS. CRAMER
Yeah, I saw that on TV. You blow in his mouth and pound on his chest at the same time.
FR. FINN
Yes, and elevate his feet!
PETER
Okay, let's give him CPR then. Come on, put him down here on the floor where there's more room. Padre, you elevate his feet and Rona can blow in his mouth. I'll do the pounding.
(All grab their assigned parts and begin belaboring JACK. This continues for a bit a la the Stooges again until MRS. CRAMER moves in and dumps the bowl of ice on JACK's head and he comes sputtering awake)
JACK
(Flailing, sputtering)
Jesus Christ, I'm drownin'! Help! Muggers! Help!
(They all let go and stand back)
RONA
Jack, you're alive!
FR. FINN
It's a miracle! My second one today!
PETER
We did it!
MRS. CRAMER
Good. Now I won't have to go to the big house.
JACK
(JACK holds his head and sits up)
Ohh. My head. What the hell happened?
RONA
It's a long story. Are you okay? Do you need an aspirin or something? Should we get a doctor or call an ambulance?
JACK
Naw, I'm okay. I think it's just a fractured skull.
FR. FINN
(Makes the sign of the cross)
Thank God.
(All fall back exhausted from their exertions. They struggle to catch their breath and composure)
MRS. CRAMER
I need a drink.
PETER
Oh. I forgot. The wine.
(He rises)
You shall have your drink, Mrs. Cramer. In fact. we'll all have a drink; that is, we will if I don't pick the fatal bottle.
RONA
Peter...!
(PETER retrieves the bottle from the floor where he dropped it)
PETER
Ah, here we are.
(He opens it and pours the wine into a glass and moves to stand framed against the window which looks out on near darkness now. He picks his dead cigar from an ashtray and frowns at it as he looks for a match to relight it)
I can't check out without a last puff on a good cigar. Who's got a match?
FR. FINN
(Unthinking, reaches for his pocket)
Here, I've got a match...
RONA
Fr. Finn!
FR. FINN
(Realizing his mistake)
Oh. Uh, no, I'm sorry, I guess I don't have a match after all, Mr. Witte.
PETER
(Shakes his head)
You're coming unglued, Padre. First you want to crown me with a sacred crucifix and now you're telling lies. Where will it all end? If you keep this up you'll not only see me lose my soul, you'll end up losing your own in the bargain.
(PETER spots the lighter where MRS. CRAMER dropped it and he picks it up and lights his cigar)
FR. FINN
Gee, I don't know what's come over me. I seem so...confused, so...
(Looks at RONA'S dazzling legs)
...mixed up...
JACK
At least your head isn't broken.
(Looks at PETER)
What are we gonna do about him?
RONA
I don't know. Maybe it's just a game after all, maybe there isn't any poison. The whole idea is so crazy, anyway, he must be putting us on.
MRS. CRAMER
I'm an old lady and old people know desperation when they see it. I say he means business.
PETER
I certainly do-and I've dallied long enough.
(Raises glass)
To a better place-or at least one with fewer disappointments.
(PETER tosses down the glass of wine and all freeze as they watch in horror and fascination for the results. PETER waits expectantly. After a moment he puts a hand to his head and wobbles
uncertainly)
Whew! I feel a little dizzy.
(He moves slowly to the couch and slumps down on it)
RONA
Oh, my God!
JACK
Jesus Christ!
MRS. CRAMER
Just like the monkeys!
(FR. FINN, ashen faced, makes the sign of the cross)
END OF ACT ONE
ACT 2
SCENE 1
SETTING: The same.
AT RISE: PETER is sitting up on the couch with the others looking on. RONA sprawls exhausted in a chair and FR. FINN stands near the window. JACK holds ice in a towel to his head and MRS. CRAMER is at the bar pouring a glass of wine.
RONA
Boy, you sure gave us a scare!
JACK
Yeah. I thought you were a goner that time, Pete.
PETER
So did I. For a minute there I felt just like one of Mrs. Cramer's monkeys. I was dizzy and a bit unsteady. I could almost feel the curare coursing through my veins.
MRS. CRAMER
Well, at least I can have some wine now. My lumbago's not used to all that exercise. Anybody else want some?
RONA
I sure could use something.
FR. FINN
Same here, Mrs. Cramer. My nerves have never needed steadying as much as they do at this moment.
JACK
Huh. You better open the poisoned one this time. It'll take straight curare to steady my nerves.
PETER
You guys drink much more of that wine and you'll be so steady it'll look like rigor mortis has set in.
RONA
Please, no jokes about rigor mortis, Peter. This whole thing is already more macabre than a Charles Addams retrospective.
FR. FINN
You can say that again.
JACK
What time is it?
RONA
It's seven-thirty. Why? You going somewhere?
JACK
There is the little matter of the play. Or have you forgotten?
RONA
Hey, that's right! I did forget. I've got to go on at eight-thirty!
PETER
Forget it. They've already booked those lady mud wrestlers.
(To FR. FINN)
Maybe the good padre could give Bits and Pieces the last rites. Do they give dead plays the last rites, Padre?
(FR. FINN has locked his gaze on
RONA'S much exposed thighs again
and doesn't hear him)
MRS. CRAMER
Hey, the man's talking to you!
FR. FINN
(Looking up, absently)
Huh? Oh. I'm sorry, I was...thinking.
MRS. CRAMER
You mean drooling, don't you?
PETER
Get a grip on yourself, Padre. You've got to be strong. It's the Devil's work you're dealing with here. You've got to rise to the occasion, stand tall like a man, be firm..!
(FR. FINN looks around frantically and then runs to the bar, grabs a glass of wine from MRS. CRAMER and drinks it down, then runs from the room)
What's gotten into him?
RONA
That was cruel, Peter. Anyone can see the poor guy's under a lot of stress and you make fun of him.
PETER
If you're so concerned, you could help by covering up about a yard and a half of naked thigh that's driving the poor guy crazy.
MRS. CRAMER
Yeah, it's brazen hussies like you who give all women a bad name. You run around half-naked and tantalize the poor bastards until their eyes pop out like a bunch of goddam frogs and next thing you now they regard us all as sex objects.
(Snorts, indicates RONA'S thighs)
MRS. CRAMER (cont'd)
It's no wonder the reverend has to pole vault outta here after a sight like that.
RONA
(Laughs)
You're just jealous. You missed out on the sexual revolution and it pisses you off. If you were my age you'd run amuck and you know it.
PETER
Rona, that's no way to talk to a senior citizen.
JACK
Yeah, can't you show the old bat a little respect?
MRS. CRAMER
Who you callin' an old bat, you...agent!
RONA
(Pouting)
I don't think she's showing me much respect when she calls me a brazen hussy.
(Beat)
Say, what the hell is a brazen hussy, anyway?
MRS. CRAMER
It's somebody who wears skirts that barely cover her keister and lets her boobs pop out for all to see.
RONA
(Haughtily)
They say if you've got it, flaunt it.
PETER
(To JACK)
If that's the definition of a brazen hussy, we don't have nearly enough of 'em in this town.
JACK
Besides, what's wrong with a lot of legs and boobs? I like to see 'em. Keeps a guy young.
RONA
I'd better go in and see how Fr. Finn is doing.
PETER
Maybe you better let Mrs. Cramer do it. I'm not sure we want to throw any more feminine pulchritude at the poor guy while he's still in a state of shock.
MRS. CRAMER
(Rising)
If you don't want to turn him on, let me go. Once you get my age even a light switch can be a challenge.
(MRS. CRAMER crosses to the door leading to the kitchen. PETER lights the remainder of his cigar again and drains off the rest of his wine. JACK dabs ice at his head)
JACK
Jesus, the old bat almost killed me! You'd never think she could hit that hard to look at her.
RONA
Don't let them fool you; the old ones are always tough. That's how they get so old in the first place.
PETER
I must be one of the weak ones because I'm sure as hell not going to get much older.
JACK
Who are you kiddin'? You're not goin' anywhere. You'll dance on my grave, for Christ's sake.
RONA
My, that thought's so attractive it would inspire anyone to hang on.
PETER
Then you'd damn well better kick the bucket in the next fifteen minutes or so, Jack. I've only got two bottles to go.
RONA
(Remembering)
Oh. Peter, for God's sake, you aren't going on with this, are you? Haven't we all had enough? Haven't you had enough? Let's go to the theatre. Come on, it's almost curtain time. Let's go. Right now.
PETER
What's the hurry? It's not even seven-thirty yet. You've got lots of time.
RONA
I know, but I have to get made up and everything. Come on, let's go.
JACK
(Getting up)
Rona's right, let's go. We'll show the bastards we don't give a shit about their two-bit reviews. They're only a bunch of goddam hacks anyway. If the assholes could write, they wouldn't end up writin' reviews of real writers' stuff.
(MRS. CRAMER comes back in from
the kitchen)
MRS. CRAMER
Well, that's that.
RONA
How's Fr. Finn? Is he all right?
MRS. CRAMER
No, he's not all right. When I left him he was wrestling with the Devil and I think the Devil's winning.
JACK
(Shrugs)
He usually does.
RONA
(Drily)
Especially when he wrestles agents.
JACK
Hey, I think a lot of actresses have lost a few falls with Old Nick, too, Miss Holier-Than-Thou.
RONA
Maybe so, but at least the Devil's not a member of our union. Everybody knows he was a charter member of the Agents' Guild.
PETER
Say, while you guys are bickering, the padre's having a major identity crisis in there. Maybe we can help the poor guy.
JACK
Maybe he'd regain his composure quicker if we threw Rona out.
RONA
How is it my fault if celibacy's driving Fr. Finn over the edge? I sure as hell didn't invent the idea. In fact, I think celibacy's a stupid idea and I'm not surprised the guy's coming unglued over it. Wouldn't it screw you guys up a little too if somebody said you couldn't get any more?
MRS. CRAMER
Harumph. It wouldn't bother me a bit.
PETER
Well, it would me. Look, go call him out here, Jack. See if he needs anything.
JACK
(Starting out, calls)
Hey, Padre! You okay?
(MRS. CRAMER moves to the bar and pours more wine for herself. She replenishes glasses for others, too)
MRS. CRAMER
(Pours for PETER)
Here. A few more glasses of this and you'll forget all about killing yourself.
PETER
Would that it were so, Mrs. Cramer. I know many a man's tried to drown his sorrows in wine, but it's an illusionary answer at best. You usually end up with even worse sorrows than the ones that drove you to drink in the first place.
(FR. FINN emerges from the kitchen with JACK on his heels. RONA tugs at her skirt and unconsciously puts a hand over her low-cut blouse on seeing him)
MRS. CRAMER
Who won, Father? You or the Devil?
FR. FINN
(Looking at RONA)
I'm afraid he did.
JACK
Demand a rematch. Make it two out of three.
PETER
Well, well. Does this mean you're giving up the Church for a life of sin and debauchery, Padre?
FR. FINN
(Resolutely)
Yes!
(Then less resolutely)
I mean no. That is, I'm...not sure.
(Beat)
Maybe.
PETER
I'm glad to see that's all sorted out then. Nothing to it. It's just a matter of taking the bull by the horns and...
RONA
Peter, you're doing it again.
PETER
Am I?
FR. FINN
It's okay, Rona. I deserve it. I don't know what I think and it's obvious I don't.
RONA
Look, Father, I hope it isn't anything I said or did...
MRS. CRAMER
Forget it, Rona, it's not your fault.
PETER
I'm glad you can see that...
MRS. CRAMER
Sure, any half-naked girl would've had the same effect on the man.
JACK
Say, Pete, I'm hungry. You got anything to eat? Maybe some chips or pretzels?
PETER
In the kitchen. There's some nuts and chips in the cupboard over the stove.
MRS. CRAMER
(Calling)
And see if there's any cheese. Sharp cheese. And crackers. And pickles.
RONA
I can't believe this! You guys are having a party while a man's life hangs in the balance!
PETER
It's not exactly a party, it's more like an early wake. Instead of having the wake after the departed has already checked out and is no longer in a position to enjoy the festivities, we're letting the soon-to-be-deceased guest of honor take part in his own wake. It's a first. Maybe we should notify the Guinness people.
RONA
Fr. Finn, can't you do something besides sit around and mope here? Can't you douse him with holy water or burn some incense or...?
MRS. CRAMER
Yeah, get one of those guys who cast out devils. What do you call 'em? Extortionists?
RONA
Exorcists.
PETER
Actually, I think extortionist is closer to the truth.
FR. FINN
(Plaintively)
But I've done everything I can think of including using the holy crucifix as a hatchet. I've prayed and it doesn't seem to help, nothing helps. In fact, I've never felt more helpless in my life,
FR. FINN (cont'd)
especially since...
(Beat)
...since...I saw Rona here today and the true meaning of celibacy was brought home to me...
PETER
Forget about me, Rona. The padre's the one who needs help now.
(To FR. FINN)
Maybe you're going to pieces for nothing, Padre. Isn't there a real clamor for a married priesthood? I remember reading somewhere that there's a severe shortage of priests all over the world. They just can't seem to find enough young men to meet the demand and one of the reasons is because the average guy doesn't want a life without a Rona of his very own.
FR. FINN
That's true, there is a shortage of priests, but the pope has flatly refused to change the rules. He says there'll never be a married clergy in the Church and that's an end of it. It's all very clear: to be a priest is to be celibate.
MRS. CRAMER
I see a pretty simple solution.
FR. FINN
You do?
MRS. CRAMER
Sure. How old's the pope?
FR. FINN
He's eighty-one. Why?
MRS. CRAMER
Just get rid of him, put a younger guy in his place, and your problems are over. Get somebody around thirty-five or so, a guy who can still get it up, and he'll have the Vatican crawling with wives and kids in no time.
FR. FINN
But you can't get a new pope until this one dies-and he could live until I'm an old man and it'll be too late.
MRS. CRAMER
Hey, look, I can't do everything for you. Remember, the Lord helps those who help themselves. File petitions. March on Rome. Organize a boycott. Sue 'em. Jesus Christ, raise a little hell.
PETER
That's good advice, Padre. You guys should hire a PR firm, take out ads, let 'em know how you feel. If you make enough noise, they'll come around and you'll be hanging out in singles' bars before you know it.
RONA
Peter!
PETER
I'm just trying to help...
RONA
You are not. You're just playing with him. I'd think you'd have more respect for a man of the cloth.
(FR. FINN frowns and studies his
empty glass)
PETER
We've already agreed that stuff won't solve your problem, Padre.
FR. FINN
(Looking hard at RONA)
No, but I think I know what will.
PETER
Don't be too sure of that. A lot of guys thought they couldn't live without one of those and then they found they couldn't live with 'em, either.
(JACK reenters with foodstuffs. He carries chips and a tray with cheese, crackers, etc. He puts the tray down on the coffee table in front of the couch and admires his handiwork)
JACK
There, that's more like it.
MRS. CRAMER
(Moving to food)
I like cheese with my wine. Sharp cheese.
(RONA slides over to FR. FINN as the
others converge on the food)
RONA
(Sotto voce)
Listen, Father, Peter's down to the last two bottles and I'm afraid he'll go through with it...
FR. FINN
...you mean if there really is any poison.
RONA
Yeah, right, but we can't afford to take the chance there isn't
(Peers furtively over his shoulder)
Look, I'm going to slip out and get some help. Maybe I can find a cop or a doctor or somebody. Go get something to eat and distract him while I duck out.
FR. FINN
(Takes her arm)
Rona, we've got to talk...
RONA
(Urgently)
Not now! Later. We've got to save Peter first. Go distract him. Go on!
(FR. FINN reluctantly joins the group at the coffee table as RONA moves in the direction of the door leading to the hall. After a moment, she slips out)
PETER
Good cheese. Got a nice bite to it.
MRS. CRAMER
And it's good for you, too.
(Beat)
Except for the cholesterol, of course...
JACK
Whatta you guys care about the cholesterol? You're almost a hundred years old and Pete's gonna kill himself in the next fifteen minutes. It's a wash.
MRS. CRAMER
Oh, yeah?
PETER
Look who's talking about longevity. You drink too much, smoke like a chimney, never exercise, and you've got a corporation like an alderman. You probably won't last out the year yourself and you're making wisecracks about us.
MRS. CRAMER
I've seen healthier looking specimens down at the Club and everybody there's over eighty
JACK
Don't let appearances fool you. I'm tough. All agents are tough. You gotta have a heart of stone to be a successful agent. Ask anybody. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there and you have to be tough if you're gonna make it. That's why agents never die young; there's no percentage in it.
FR. FINN
(Somberly)
They say no man knows the hour of his death...
PETER
A guy was executed in Texas last week. He knew.
FR. FINN
They meant man generally. On the whole. The average man in the street doesn't know the hour of his death.
MRS. CRAMER
Harumph! The average man in the street doesn't know anything else, either.
PETER
But none of us is this "average man."
(There's a chorus of concurring voices:
"Oh, not us." "Certainly not." "Hell, no.")
PETER
Why is it no one ever finds this elusive "average man" everybody always talks about? If you accuse anyone of being average, he'll be insulted and offer to knock your teeth out, yet there have to be average men out there somewhere or the term has no meaning at all and...
(Stops, looks around)
Where's Rona? Did she go out?
MRS. CRAMER
She was here a minute ago.
JACK
Maybe she's in the kitchen.
(FR. FINN bites his lip and looks
away. PETER looks at him)
PETER
Where's Rona, Padre?
FR. FINN
Uh, Rona? Well, uh, isn't she here? I think she was here a minute ago, wasn't she?
PETER
But she isn't here now. Did she go out, Padre?
(Before FR. FINN can answer RONA enters breathlessly)
RONA
In here, Officer!
(OFFICER enters with his nightstick at the ready. She points at Peter)
That's him!
OFFICER
(Advancing on JACK who stands near PETER. He reaches for handcuffs)
Okay, buddy, you're under arrest.
JACK
Who, me?
PETER
Good work, Rona. You got here just in time.
(Sternly, to OFFICER)
This man will never fleece another client. Take him away, Officer.
RONA
Wait, Officer, he's not the one!
OFFICER
He ain't?
MRS. CRAMER
Naw, he's just an agent.
OFFICER
(Eyeing JACK suspiciously)
An agent, eh? Maybe I oughta run him in anyway just on general principles.
PETER
You can't do that, Officer. Agents don't have general principles-or any other kind.
RONA
(Points at PETER)
This is the man who's committing suicide, Officer.
OFFICER
Is that right, mister? Are you committin' suicide?
PETER
Does it look like I'm killing myself, Officer?
FR. FINN
It's true, Officer. He's put poison in the wine.
PETER
(To FR. FINN)
I'd be quiet if I were you. Impersonating a priest is against the law, you know.
OFFICER
Hey, buddy, are you a real priest or what?
FR. FINN
Of course I'm a real priest. I came here to stop this man from committing suicide.
OFFICER
(Dubiously)
Oh, yeah? How come you're just standin' around then? You look like you're havin' a party, if you ask me.
MRS. CRAMER
It's a wake, Officer.
(Points to PETER)
His.
OFFICER
This is your wake? So you are the guy who's committin' suicide?
PETER
Nobody's committing suicide, Officer. These people are all actors and I'm a playwright. We've just been rehearsing a new play of mine and one scene calls for a cop so Rona went out to find one and she found you.
OFFICER
(Looks menacingly at RONA)
Look, makin' a false crime report is a very serious crime in this town, lady. Somebody better be killin' their self here or I'm gonna run somebody in.
PETER
(Sighs)
I told you this might happen, Rona. Take her away, Officer.
JACK
Jesus Christ, this guy'll arrest everybody in the place except Pete!
(RONA sits down and picks up a glass of wine left earlier. Her short skirt ascends again and FR. FINN'S eyes are drawn like magnets to the sight)
MRS. CRAMER
Yeah, I could end up in the slammer for impersonating an old lady.
(Moves to bar)
Mr. Witte's the one you want, Officer. He's lying, we aren't rehearsing any play. He put poison in the wine because his play's a flop and as soon as he opens the poisoned bottle he's a goner. We're trying to talk him out of it but he won't listen.
OFFICER
Hey, look, I don't have all day here, okay? There are crooks out there who need arrestin' and I can't do that if I'm in here playin' guessin' games with a lot of dippy actors. Now, for the last time, are you committin' suicide or not, mister?
JACK
Damn right he is!
MRS. CRAMER
He told us so himself!
RONA
Fr. Finn said so! Can't you trust the word of a Catholic priest?
OFFICER
Him a priest? Are you kiddin'? Look at 'im, the way he's watchin' your legs you'd think he never saw any before.
(To FR. FINN)
Hey, let me see some ID, buddy. If you're a real priest, I'm Dick Tracy.
RONA
Will you forget about him and concentrate on the main issue here? This man is in the act of killing himself and that's against the law. I demand that you arrest him at once so I can get the hell out of here and get to the theatre in time for the curtain in...
(Looks at watch)
...fifty minutes!
PETER
Don't be silly, Rona. The officer can't go around arresting people just so you won't be late for the theatre.
(PETER moves to the bar and MRS. CRAMER follows with glass in hand. PETER picks up one of the bottles)
OFFICER
Hey, is that stuff poisoned?
PETER
Of course not. Would you care to join me in a glass? It's Chateau-Fleury Bordeaux and...
RONA
Peter!
JACK
Are you crazy?
OFFICER
I better warn you, mister, poisonin' a police officer is a very serious crime in this town. If that stuff's got any poison in it, you're gonna be in a lotta trouble.
MRS. CRAMER
Not as much trouble as you'll be in if you drink it, Officer. It's got curare in it. You ever see what that stuff does to a monkey?
PETER
Hold on here. There's only one way to resolve this debate. Let's have a drink and see what happens. If the wine's poisoned, we'll know it soon enough. And if it isn't poisoned, we'll know that, too.
(Pops cork)
So, shall we get on with it then?
RONA
(Jumps up and gesticulates)
Wait! Officer, stop him! You're letting a man kill himself right before your eyes and you're not trying to stop him!
OFFICER
Look, lady, I...
JACK
(To Officer)
If he dies you'll be responsible!
(Now that RONA has moved and broken his trance, FR. FINN looks up and scowls worriedly. He sees PETER holding another bottle of wine and he rises and starts for the bar)
FR. FINN
I need a drink.
PETER
Not so fast, Padre. This one has to pass the taste test first.
RONA
Officer, do something!
OFFICER
(Shrugs)
I can't, lady. If he had a gun or a rope with a noose in it I could arrest him, but I can't stop him from drinkin' a glass of wine in his own house without somethin' more to go on.
RONA
But if he drinks that wine and dies...!
OFFICER
That's different. Then I'd have somethin' to go on and I could...
(Trails off, thinks)
JACK
What? Arrest him?
FR. FINN
Give him a ticket?
MRS. CRAMER
Throw him in the slammer?
(PETER stands at the bar, strikes a dramatic pose, and raises his glass. All turn and watch him)
PETER
To your health.
(PETER drinks the wine and slowly lowers the glass as the others watch horrified. FR. FINN makes a sign of the cross and RONA anxiously chews a knuckle while MRS. CRAMER holds the
bottle in one hand and a glass in the other as she waits in the heavy silence to see which way it goes)
JACK
Is it...?
FR. FINN
Are you...?
RONA
Oh, God..!
PETER
Nothing. I don't feel anything.
MRS. CRAMER
(Pouring)
Good. I need a drink. Got crackers stuck in my throat.
OFFICER
That wine's not poisoned.
RONA
And Peter's still alive, no thanks to you.
PETER
Don't mind her, she's pissed because a critic said she didn't look like a real prostitute.
OFFICER
(Eyeing RONA)
He did, eh? Well, he's nuts then. I've seen a lot of hookers in my day and I say this lady looks exactly like your typical, average hooker-except maybe she wears a tad more makeup than the pros do.
RONA
What!? Why, you tinhorn flatfoot, you call yourself a cop? Why, for two cents I'd...!
OFFICER
Watch it, lady. Insultin' a police officer is a very serious crime in this town.
RONA
(Wearily)
Why do I do it? I must be out of my mind. I feel like I'm playing the lead in some cheap melodrama. I'm dealing with a crazy playwright who wants to kill himself, an old lady who wants to help him do it, an agent without principles, a cop who won't arrest anybody until the place is littered with dead bodies, and a Catholic priest who's in love with me!
(She puts a hand to her fevered brow
and moves to the bar where she grabs
the wine and takes a hearty pull from
the bottle)
PETER
(To FR. FINN, sternly)
Well, sir, is this true? Are you in love with Rona?
FR. FINN
(Indignantly)
Certainly not! I mean, I'm a priest and priests don't fall in love with...
(He looks at RONA)
...with...
JACK
What is this? We start out tryin' to stop a suicide and we end up helping a guy make career choices, for Christ's sake. We don't have time for all this crap. Any of you guys remember we got a curtain in forty-five minutes?
OFFICER
Say, are we havin' a suicide or what?
MRS. CRAMER
(Points at the last bottle
of wine)
If there's poison in that bottle, we're having a suicide.
JACK
But is there any poison in it?
OFFICER
You know what I think? I think you guys are all nuts. Nobody holds a party to commit suicide. An' people don't stand around watchin' a suicide, either. I think you guys are playin' some kind of game.
PETER
Well spoken, Officer. The very essence of police logic. And now that you know there's no crime being committed here, I assume you'll leave and go arrest some real criminals?
RONA
Oh, no, you don't. You stay here until we find out what's in that last bottle. If that stuff is poisoned, I want you here so we can turn you in for aiding and abetting a suicide.
JACK
(To OFFICER)
Why not just take the wine downtown and test it? Then if it's poisoned you'll have all the evidence you need to arrest the guy.
MRS. CRAMER
(Takes wine and starts to hand
it to the OFFICER)
Yeah, all you have to do is find a monkey and give him some.
(PETER leaps in and snatches the
bottle from her)
PETER
Wait a minute! This isn't Russia, you know. Even suicides have rights, by God. You can't come in here and take my personal property without a warrant.
RONA
(To OFFICER)
Sure, you can. It's easy. You guys do it all the time. Just take it away from him and tell him to shut the hell up.
FR. FINN
(Absently, to no one in particular)
Celibacy just isn't fair! It's...it's unnatural, maybe even immoral.
(Scowls and drinks)
OFFICER
(Jerks thumb at FR. FINN)
What's he mumblin' about?
PETER
Rona's thighs.
RONA
Forget him, Officer. You were going to grab the wine and test it,
remember?
OFFICER
Hey, lady, 'course I remember. I'm not the one who's been drinkin' all afternoon, you know. But I ain't gonna take his wine away from him 'cause I can't. Like I already said, unless I know the stuff's been poisoned, there ain't anything I can do. If I did take the wine and it turned out it was poisoned, I still couldn't do anything 'cause the judge'd throw out the evidence for being illegally obtained.
JACK
Who cares if you can't make any charges stick? You'd save the guy's life, wouldn't you?
OFFICER
(Shakes head)
It ain't no use, I can't take anybody's property without a warrant.
PETER
I'm glad to see somebody around here has a little sense.
MRS. CRAMER
What would you know about sense? You're the guy who's killing himself because somebody didn't like his play.
JACK
Touché!
PETER
Maybe it isn't very smart, but it doesn't take a whole lot of brains to stay alive, either. The world's full of ignoramuses and half-wits and most of 'em hang around forever and they...
(RONA has sidled over toward PETER
and she suddenly rushes in and grabs the
bottle of wine from his hands and ducks away)
RONA
I got it! I got it!
PETER
Hey! Gimme that bottle!
(He lurches after her and when he
reaches her she tosses the bottle
to a surprised JACK)
RONA
Jack! Catch!
(JACK catches the bottle and runs to the other side of the room
with PETER in close pursuit)
PETER
Jack, I want that bottle and I want it now!
JACK
You want it, you come and get it.
(PETER lunges after him and JACK tucks the bottle under his arm like a football and spins away. PETER recovers and moves in on JACK who tosses the bottle to the OFFICER)
OFFICER
Don't give it to me!
(He throws it up for grabs and
FR. FINN catches it)
PETER
Okay, Padre, now let's be sensible. That's my wine and you're a priest and priests don't take other people's wine so you can just hand it over.
FR. FINN
(Backing off)
I'll give it back to you only if you can tell me it's not poisoned, Mr. Witte.
PETER
Okay, it's not poisoned.
RONA
He's lying, Father! Don't give it to him!
(PETER suddenly lunges at FR. FINN and he tosses the bottle to JACK who throws it to RONA and she throws it back to FR. FINN. All stand around panting heavily while struggling to get their breath after all this activity)
PETER
Officer, I want these people arrested!
OFFICER
What for? They gotta commit a crime before I can arrest 'em.
PETER
Look at 'em. They've stolen my wine and refuse to give it back to me. Isn't that a crime? Taking a man's property against his will? What kind of cop are you, anyway? Call the paddy wagon and take these people away.
JACK
Pour the wine in the sink, Padre!
MRS. CRAMER
Wait! What if it's a good bottle? We could test it on a monkey and...
RONA
Pour it out, Father! Hurry up!
(FR. FINN moves to pull the cork when PETER, in desperation, lunges for him again. FR. FINN throws the bottle to JACK and PETER turns and runs after him as JACK dodges around the OFFICER who remains still and neutral. As PETER swings around the OFFICER he grabs his gun from its holster and suddenly he's
brandishing a gun at the others)
PETER
Okay, now I've got the upper hand again! Anybody moves and I'll shoot 'em!
(All fall back in shock and fear
as PETER menaces them with the gun)
OFFICER
Hey, buddy, you better watch out! Shootin' a police officer is...
PETER
(Irritably)
I know, I know, a very serious crime. Get those hands up before I drill ya!
JACK
Jesus Christ, Pete, you've been watchin' too many old Jimmy Cagney movies. Nobody "drills" anybody anymore.
PETER
Shut up, Jack, and put the bottle down on the table there.
(Points with the gun)
That's it, right there.
(JACK carefully moves forward and
puts the bottle down and backs off again)
RONA
Peter, you're really crazy now. You're completely loony.
JACK
Yeah, Pete, what the hell's the matter with you, anyway?
MRS. CRAMER
I say give him back his bottle and let's forget the whole thing.
OFFICER
(Points finger at him)
You're under arrest, buddy!
PETER
Don't be silly, I'm the one with the gun here and everybody knows the one with the gun is in charge.
RONA
Peter, this is ridiculous! Give the gun back to the officer before somebody gets hurt!
(PETER moves warily to the table
and retrieves the bottle. He backs away)
PETER
(Brandishing gun)
Nobody's going to get hurt. Everybody just do as I say and don't try any funny stuff. Remember, I'm a desperate man, a man on the brink of death with nothing to lose. If anybody tries to stop me, I'll...I'll shoot Mrs. Cramer.
MRS. CRAMER
Me!? Jesus Christ, I knew chivalry was dead but this is ridiculous! How come I'm the lucky one?
PETER
(Shrugging)
Well, you're the oldest one so I figure you've got the least to lose.
JACK
Sounds fair enough to me.
RONA
Me, too.
(The OFFICER nods approval and even FR. FINN shrugs an implicit okay)
MRS. CRAMER
Hey, since I'm the one he's going to shoot, don't I get a vote?
JACK
He's bluffing! I say we rush him!
MRS. CRAMER
Rush him? You simple bastard, didn't you hear him say he'd shoot me? I'm gonna stand behind you, wise guy. Then we'll see how brave you are.
(MRS. CRAMER moves to get behind
JACK and he moves to keep her away from him. Others also move to avoid having her behind them so they're in the line of fire and we get a moment where everyone's dodging everyone else)
PETER
Will you guys cut that out? You're making me dizzy.
FR. FINN
Now, see here, Mr. Witte, violence is never the answer. Violence only begets violence and...
PETER
Oh, yeah? How come you guys didn't feel that way when the Crusaders went down and beat the shit out of the Arab world? Or during the Inquisition? Sometimes violence is the only answer, Padre.
RONA
Peter, why don't you put that gun away? You know very well you aren't going to shoot anyone with it.
OFFICER
Yeah, you ain't the killer type, buddy.
JACK
You're not gonna shoot us, Pete. You haven't got the balls.
(They start moving toward him in a bunch and PETER raises the gun and aims it into their midst. They stop in their tracks)
PETER
If you all think that, let's just test your faith here. Who wants to gamble? You, Officer? You, Jack? Padre?
(He moves the gun from one to another as he names them and
each steps back a pace)
There, see how easy that was? A simple test and we find out what we're made of, don't we? When we look the Grim Reaper in the face we see our real selves, not just a mirror image but our true inner selves without soft lighting and false pride and a lot of bullshit. It's a revealing moment, isn't it?
FR. FINN
(Nods thoughtfully)
Yes, we see our true selves.
RONA
(Looks at her watch)
God, it's ten to seven! I'll never make that curtain!
PETER
You're right, Rona, I am holding everybody up, aren't I? It's time I got this show on the road, time for the final curtain on the last act of my own personal drama. So. Let's do it then.
(Puts the gun down on the bar
and starts to uncork the bottle)
RONA
Peter, wait. That's the last bottle!
JACK
That one's got the poison, Pete.
MRS. CRAMER
Remember those monkeys.
FR. FINN
(Excitedly)
Wait! The last rites! I need to administer the last rites!
PETER
(Pours wine into glass)
Well, go ahead, administer 'em.
FR. FINN
Okay, but don't drink yet. The last rites won't work if the recipient's already dead.
(He runs to the kitchen and others
wait. PETER holds glass of wine to the light and admires its color. In a moment, FR. FINN returns with a glass of water which he places on the table. He lays the crucifix next to it. He steps back and makes an elaborate sign of the cross over the water, then searches his pockets)
Incense. I need some incense. Do you have any incense, Mr. Witte?
PETER
Of course I don't have any incense.
RONA
I have some spray cologne. Would that do?
MRS. CRAMER
If you just need something that smells bad, use one of his cigars.
PETER
(Indignantly)
I'll have you know those cigars cost eight bucks apiece and they do not smell bad.
FR. FINN
(Hesitantly)
I guess a cigar will do.
(JACK takes a cigar from the humidor on a side table and lights it. FR. FINN takes it and lays it in an ashtray on the table and fans its smoke toward PETER. OFFICER reaches over and takes a cigar, smells it appreciatively, and slips it into his pocket for future reference. FR. FINN stops and looks around)
We need some bells. Little ones. The kind that tinkle.
PETER
Bells? What the hell for?
FR. FINN
It's part of the ritual. You fill the air with incense, holy water, Latin, and the sound of tinkling bells.
PETER
I don't have any bells, Padre, and I also don't have any extra Latin verbs and adjectives lying around, either.
FR. FINN
Oh, that's okay. I'll supply the Latin but I really need the bells.
MRS. CRAMER
How about the door chimes? They sound like bells.
FR. FINN
A good idea, Mrs. Cramer. Chimes'll do. Would you go ring them when I give the word?
MRS. CRAMER
(Grousing, but getting up)
Hey, it was my idea. Why don't you send "Legs" Rona instead?
FR. FINN
Thanks, Mrs. Cramer. I'll say a prayer and knock ten thousand years off your sentence in purgatory.
MRS. CRAMER
Good. That means I've only got fifty thousand years to go.
PETER
For God's sake, Padre, hurry up. They can launch a goddam battleship in less time than this.
FR. FINN
Okay, I'm all set now.
(To RONA)
Will you tell Mrs. Cramer to start ringing, Rona?
(RONA nods and moves toward the door. FR. FINN assumes his place before the table and fans smoke. The door chimes start ringing and the priest holds up the crucifix and begins a Latin litany. After a moment, he picks up the glass of water, dips his fingers into it, and flicks it about. Suddenly, he throws the glass of
water at PETER and lunges at him and knocks the glass of wine from his hand. They collide and struggle briefly as the others, astonished, look on.
Before the others can galvanize themselves into action to help the
priest, PETER manages to throw him off and snatch up the gun from the bar just as the others surge forward. He levels the gun at them and they stop dead. FR. FINN is on the floor panting heavily)
PETER
Jesus, no wonder they call 'em the last rites. You almost killed me!
RONA
Father, are you all right?
FR. FINN
I'm okay, I'm fine.
(Gets up, tests neck)
In fact, I've never been more okay in my life.
(He turns back to face PETER)
Put the gun down, Mr. Witte. And give me the wine.
PETER
Stay back! I'm warning you!
FR. FINN
(Shakes head)
I can't. Maybe I could a few minutes ago but I can't now. I won't let you do this without trying to prevent it. If you have to shoot, shoot, but I'm going to stop you if I can.
(FR. FINN moves forward and PETER takes dead aim with the gun. The priest unflinchingly advances until he's only two feet away where he stops and holds out his hand for the gun. After a tense moment, PETER smiles broadly)
PETER
By God, maybe you are a real priest, after all, Padre.
(He hands him the gun and swiftly raises the bottle and takes a long swig from it as the others gasp in alarm)
RONA
Peter, no!
JACK
Jesus, he did it!
OFFICER
(Reaching for his cuffs)
Okay, buddy, you're under arrest!
(PETER lets the bottle fall from his hand and the wine runs out on the floor. He moves slowly to the couch and half lies down on it. The others move forward and form a pose reminiscent of Socrates'
famous death scene in the painting. FR. FINN makes the sign of the cross as the OFFICER retrieves his gun.
Just at this moment CAROL bursts into the apartment waving a copy of The Times)
CAROL
Peter! Look! Burke's review came out! He loves it! Bits and Pieces is a hit! He says it's the best thing he's seen in years! Listen to this. Burke says the dialogue “sparkles” and the play's “...insightful and well-plotted...” and...
(Suddenly, she senses all is not well and she stops. The others have been too stunned to react)
What's the matter? Why..?
RONA
My God!
PETER
(Slowly sitting up)
The play's a hit? Are you sure? I've finally got a hit play?!
(Jumps up, grins broadly)
Did you hear that? Bits and Pieces is a hit! I've written a hit play! I can't believe it! It finally happened!
FR. FINN
Uh, Mr.Witte, what about the, uh...?
PETER
(Suddenly remembering, drops back on the couch)
Oh, shit!
JACK
Quick! Get a stomach pump! Call the poison control center!
MRS. CRAMER
(Starting to undo blouse)
Stand back! I'll take off my clothes and make him throw up!
OFFICER
Roll him over! I'll give 'im CPR!
FR. FINN
Make him walk! He has to keep moving!
RONA
Slap him so he won't lose consciousness!
(They all belabor PETER with their assorted would-be antidotes)
CAROL
(Grabbing RONA)
Rona! What is it! What's going on?
RONA
Peter's committing suicide because he thought the play was a flop! He just drank some poisoned wine!
CAROL
(Runs to PETER)
Peter! I can't believe you'd do such a thing! Why? What...?
PETER
(Still stunned)
I don't know. I just thought...thought it was another flop and...
MRS. CRAMER
(thoughtfully, to JACK)
You know, if he was a monkey he'd be dead by now...
(She trails off and goes to retrieve
the discarded wine bottle)
JACK
Fr. Finn, quick! Make reservations for Lourdes!! We need a miracle!
FR. FINN
You're right, it's our only chance! Stand back and give me some room!
(He drops to his knees, raises his crucifix heavenward and fills the air with bursts of Latin. Others continue to pull on PETER, pummel him, slap him, etc.)
CAROL
Rona, what did he take? We'll need a sample of it. Where's the poisoned wine?
RONA
It was on the bar. Peter put five bottles of that French wine on the bar there and he put poison in one of them and...
CAROL
(Looking around she spots four empty bottles lying about)
Okay, four bottles. Where's the other one?
MRS. CRAMER
I've got it.
RONA
There! That's the one that's poisoned!
MRS. CRAMER
Yeah, but what I can't figure out is why he's not dead as a monkey yet.
CAROL
Wait! There were six bottles! He brought back six bottles of that wine!
RONA
Six? Are you sure?
CAROL
Of course I'm sure. There were six bottles of that wine and they were all in the bar.
PETER
(Struggling)
Jesus Christ, do you have to beat me to death? I'd rather die from the goddam poison!
RONA
(Heads for the bar with MRS. CRAMER and CAROL following her)
Oh, please let it be there!
(She reaches the bar and falls on her knees as she opens the door and peers inside. She reaches in and pulls out the sixth and last bottle of Chateau-Fleury)
I found it! He didn't drink the poison!
CAROL
(Goes to PETER)
Peter! There's one bottle left! You're not poisoned! You didn't drink the poisoned wine!
MRS. CRAMER
Yeah, if you did rigor mortis'd be setting in by now.
PETER
What?! You mean I'm not dying? I've got a hit play and I'm not dying?
FR. FINN
(Elated)
It's a miracle! That makes three in a row! Somebody call the pope! Alert the press!
(PETER springs up and hugs CAROL and dances wildly about and the
others join in wild celebration both for the hit play and PETER'S narrow escape from death. RONA absently puts the poisoned bottle on the bar next to an empty glass and joins the revelry. After some moments people drop into chairs and onto the couch and grin giddily at each other and catch their breath)
JACK
Jesus Christ, we got a hit!
CAROL
And Peter's alive!
MRS. CRAMER
(Tips up the empty bottle)
And we're all out of wine.
RONA
(Remembering, looking at her watch)
My God! It's ten after eight! I've only got twenty minutes before the curtain goes up!
(She jumps up and starts out)
Peter, I'll see you at the theatre!
PETER
Right. I'll come by your dressing room.
JACK
Wait, I'll come with you, Rona. I think the star of Bits and Pieces should have an escort, don't you?
(JACK offers his arm and RONA takes it and they start out. The OFFICER
adjusts his gunbelt and confronts PETER)
OFFICER
I oughta run you in, buddy, but what the hell, nobody got hurt so I'm gonna give you a break this time. But if you try a stunt like this again, I'll have you in a loony bin like a shot.
PETER
Thanks, Officer. Believe me, it won't happen again. I'm a cured man, suicide is the farthest thing from my mind.
OFFICER
It better be.
(The OFFICER gives a half salute to the
others and starts out)
FR. FINN
Well, Mr. Witte. I guess you won't be needing me anymore.
PETER
You're a good man, Padre. I think you made the right choice. Celibacy won't be so bad once you get used to it and...
FR. FINN
Get used to it? Are you kidding? I'm organizing a march on Rome first thing in the morning. I'll get up a petition and have it signed by every priest under eighty in the whole world. I won't stop until every priest is married and has six kids, Why, before I'm done marriage will be a prerequisite for the priesthood!
(He adjusts his lapels and starts out)
We'll show those old codgers who's in charge around here!
MRS. CRAMER
Now that I've seen how it all came out, I may as well go, too.
(Shakes her head)
You're a lucky man, Mr. Witte. That stuff really stopped those monkeys cold.
PETER
I hope you aren't too disappointed, Mrs. Cramer.
MRS. CRAMER
Naw. It's still a great story even if you didn't actually drink the poison. I can't wait to tell the girls at the Club.
PETER
I'll send you a ticket to the play.
MRS. CRAMER
Send two of 'em. I may want to bring a date.
(MRS. CRAMER leaves)
CAROL
Peter, Peter. What a day this has been.
PETER
You can bet it's one day I won't soon forget. From the depths of despair to a hit play in one day. I still can't believe it happened.
CAROL
But it has. You've done it just as I always knew you would. I never doubted you for a minute.
PETER
Hey, we've got to get to the theatre.
(Looks around)
Look, I've got to get dressed and organized here. Why don't you go ahead and I'll be there in a minute?
CAROL
Okay. I'll meet you backstage. Fifteen minutes.
PETER
Right.
(He kisses her on the cheek and she smiles up at him and leaves. PETER breaks into a wild dance of joy and drives a clenched fist skyward and gives high-fives to imaginary others and acts
like a man beside himself. He dances into the bedroom and emerges with a tie draped around his neck and wearing
an unbuttoned clean shirt)
PETER (cont'd)
Jesus, I can't believe it! I'm a Writer at last! A writer with a capital double-u, a man of letters...!
(Holds up newspaper)
...a man with a smash review in the Times yet!
(Reads)
"...insightful...brilliant...sparkling dialogue...well-plotted with powerful dramatic moments...!" And in the Times yet!
(He continues dressing as he goes. He buttons his shirt and pauses to grab a cigar and flicks imaginary ashes from it as he
strikes a pose and grins happily)
What a day! What a moment! What a triumph! A hit play of my very own!
(He moves to a closet and brings out a sport coat and puts one arm through a sleeve and awkwardly tries to stuff shirttails into his trousers as he tipsily glides across the room in a dance with
an unseen partner. He hums a melody.
All the while the lights have been slowly fading on the stage with PETER in one soft spot while another slowly focuses on the lone bottle of wine and single glass still standing on the bar. As he does a turn and starts toward the door, PETER'S eye lights on that bottle. He stops and grins at it)
Yes, a celebratory drink before I go!
(He goes to the bar, picks up the bottle, pulls the cork, and pours wine into the glass. He raises the glass in a toast to the audience)
I give you Peter Witte, Writer!
(PETER brings the glass to his lips, throws back his head, and drinks. He holds the pose as the curtain falls)
THE END
WITTE'S END
by
Evan Keliher