(1870. WILLIAM CANBY, the grandson of BETSY sits at the beside of HENRY, his distant relative. HENRY is 95 years old and lovin' it.)WILLIAM: This is to be an official document. You'll have to be a little more consistent with your replies.
HENRY: (offended) Don't call me consistent!
WILLIAM: I didn't.
HENRY: You're pressing me for memories that I can't produce. But I will.
WILLIAM: Uncle Henry, that's not -
HENRY: Great uncle Henry!!
WILLIAM: (agreeing begrudgingly) Okay, great uncle Henry -
HENRY: Once removed!
WILLIAM: (more frustrated) Okay.... great uncle Henry once removed -
HENRY: Loving and literate brother to Marie Evelyn, Joseph Hunter, and the long-gone but impeccably-clean Claire Elizabeth!
WILLIAM: Loving and literate - (giving up) How about I just call you Henry, eh?
HENRY: Henry A.? Okay!
WILLIAM: Great. Now, back to your memories. This affidavit must be one hundred percent truth. They've got their fact-checkers so we must not have holes. The stories I collect from you and the others must be truth beyond any doubt. This is essential to setting the record straight and getting our family the recognition we deserve once and for all. Now tell me again your memory of how grandma came to sew the flag. Details are key.
HENRY: Funny isn't it.
WILLIAM: What is?
HENRY: If you think of it, the Civil War was not very civil. The opposite really.
WILLIAM: Are you even listening to me?
HENRY: So what does the A stand for?
WILLIAM: The A?
HENRY: Henry A. You said it yourself. Abraham I hope.
WILLIAM: Henry please. It took me weeks to track you down. I have a deadline and I need information about Betsy.
HENRY: Perhaps you'd like the signed letter in which she confesses to the world that she was the true and only designer of the flag? The signed letter that she kept hidden away the entirety of her lifetime so she could humbly sink into the shadows and collect dust before her looming and pathetic consumption by a slow and unnoticed death? The signed letter which I swore to her that I would reveal to you if you ever came looking for me wanting the truth and nothing but the truth so help you God??
WILLIAM: Yes, Henry, yes! Where is it?!?
HENRY: It's the left drawer of the desk. Run and fetch it! Before it's too late! It's right next to the sword in the stone and the jeweled treasures of Atlantis.
WILLIAM: Shame on you!
HENRY: Bah! The list of things that I've convinced people are in that drawer! Letters, midgets, more drawers. I could go on forever.
WILLIAM: Take this seriously. This is serious stuff!
HENRY: Here we go. Why should I take anything seriously? I've lived more life than anyone I know. And lived it well. Fact and fiction are the same when you've lived what's I've lived. I'll go out laughing or I won't go out. Take that seriously!
WILLIAM: Just tell me the story as your remember it, the one you said you knew by heart, so I can write it down and leave.
HENRY: You want the story? Fine: it was a Tuesday. I was young. Definitely five or six or seven maybe. There was an argument going on between your grandmother Betsy and my mom, Aunt Catherine. Or was her cousin Judith, yes her, the one who was your sister. But most likely in all actuality, it was my uncle Anthony, the short round one. Anyhoo, I was out in the yard playing make believe 'cos it was Wednesday.
WILLIAM: Wednesday or Tuesday?
HENRY: That's right. And I swear as strong as the sun is shining east, I hear your grandma scream at the top of her lungs: I'm a LIAR, a next-to-nothing LIAR! I can't sew, I can't read. I love juggling and pottery!
(Beat)
WILLIAM: Thanks for nothing Henry.
HENRY: You betchya. Screaming crazy Betsy Ross. There's your proof or your money back.
WILLIAM: I'll remember to quote you in court when the suited cynics are breathing down my neck. It'll come in handy.
HENRY: I wasn't there, okay. I mean I was, but I wasn't.
WILLIAM: Do old people not have eardrums? Can they not hear themselves and their constant contradictions?
HENRY: The civil war was civil. Anyone who says otherwise should be drawn and quartered. Anyhoo -
WILLIAM: Anyhoo is right.
HENRY: Hmm? You've lost me. Anyhoo?
WILLIAM: You can't lose the lost. If you'll excuse me, I have to catch a train to Albany.
HENRY: Tell Martha I say hello. Hope your school project turns out decent. I'm sure you'll get an A.
WILLIAM: I'm twenty-seven years old in two weeks.
HENRY: Twenty-seven? Geesh, well, aim for a hundred next time. The teacher will forgive and forget.
WILLIAM: Yes, the teacher... I should be going.
HENRY: I'll probably die before I see you next. Or not. So anyhoo, thanks for the company.
WILLIAM: Can I have my pen please?
HENRY: I gotta sign that affidavit if it's to hold up in court. I've seen a thing or two.
WILLIAM: Of course you have. Here you are.
(He tears a blank piece of paper from his book. HENRY signs it.)
HENRY: Knock 'em dead! Tell him Henry A. sent you!
WILLIAM: A great uncle once removed. That's for certain.
(WILLIAM rushes out of the room.)
HENRY: (suddenly full of passion:) You want the truth!? You want the truth??? You can't handle the Truth!
(Silence. He relaxes again.)
HENRY: Unexplained and bizarre event of my life number 43,209. That's gotta be a record.
WEIRD BLACKOUT FOR A WEIRD PLAY
No comments:
Post a Comment