Resurrection Blues (7 page)

FELIX: Kind of.

 

STANLEY: Well, with a background like mine how do I know what I'm going to believe next week?

 

FELIX,
thinks for a moment:
What did you talk about with him last night?

 

STANLEY: Last night? Well, let's see—women, mainly. They're a mystery to him. Men also, but not as much.

 

FELIX: He's bisexual?

 

STANLEY: I would say he's more like . . . tri.

 

FELIX: Trisexual.

 

STANLEY: Yes.

 

FELIX: Well let's see now—there's men, and women, and what?

 

STANLEY: Well . . . vegetation.

 

FELIX: He fucks cabbages?

 

STANLEY: No-no, he loves them.

 

FELIX: Loves cabbages.

 

STANLEY: Well they're alive.

 

FELIX: I see. What about a girlfriend?

STANLEY: Well, yeah, one. But she jumped out of a window recently.

 

FELIX: . . . You don't mean Henri Schultz's daughter.

 

STANLEY: Oh, you know him?

 

FELIX: We're cousins.—So this son of god is banging Schultz's daughter?

 

STANLEY: I don't think so, frankly. My impression is that it stays kind of—you know—remote. Although I picked him up one morning at her apartment and she looked like a woman who . . . you know . . .

 

FELIX: Had had it.

 

STANLEY: But I think it was different. I think he may have just . . . laid down next to her and . . . you know . . . lit up. —Because you know he can just light up and . . .

 

FELIX: I know, I saw him do it. So you mean if he lights up it makes her . . . ?

 

STANLEY: Definitely.

 

FELIX,
truly fascinated:
Huh! That's very interesting. That's one of the most interesting things I've heard lately.—And how long can he stay lit up?

 

STANLEY: Seems like . . . I don't know . . . a few seconds.

 

FELIX: Is that all.

STANLEY: Well of course I never actually saw . . .

 

FELIX: So it could have been longer.

 

STANLEY: Who knows? I mean . . .

 

FELIX: Yes.
Exhales, blows out air
. This is really amazing.
Worried but curious
. I was wondering why Schultz was so fascinated by him.

 

STANLEY: Oh but I doubt she'd have mentioned Jack to her father.

 

FELIX: That's his name—Jack?

 

STANLEY: Well one of them. Jack Brown. But he's got others . . . depending.

 

FELIX: We believe his name is Juan Manuel Francisco Frederico Ortuga de Oviedo. Although up in the villages some of them call him Ralph.

 

STANLEY: Possible. He changes names so he won't turn into like . . . you know . . . some kind of celebrity guru.

 

FELIX: Well, that's unusual, isn't it. Now tell me how he escaped from jail.

 

STANLEY: I really can't talk about that.

 

FELIX: How did he get out, Stanley?

 

STANLEY: He doesn't like people talking about it.

FELIX: About what?

 

STANLEY,
conflicted, shifts in his chair:
I'm really not comfortable talking about that part of it.

 

FELIX: I don't want to have to persuade you, Stan. How did he escape?

 

STANLEY: Well . . . is this something you're insisting on?

 

FELIX: This is something I'm insisting on.

 

STANLEY: . . . He went through the walls.

 

 

FELIX: And how did he do that?

 

STANLEY: You're asking me so I'm telling you, right? He has terrific mind control, he can see space.

 

FELIX: Anybody can see space.

 

STANLEY: No. What you see is the borders, like the walls of a room, or mountains. Pure space is only an idea, so he can think it out of existence. But he doesn't want it spread around too much.

 

FELIX: Why's that?

 

STANLEY: If he gets known as a magician he thinks it could take away from his main message.

FELIX: Which is what, in a few words?

 

STANLEY: Well, you know . . . just don't do bad things. Especially when you know they're bad. Which you mostly do.

 

 

FELIX: You like women?

 

STANLEY: Well I'm . . . yeah, I guess I'm kind of on the horny side.

 

FELIX: You ever light up with them?

 

STANLEY: Me? Well there've been times when I almost feel I have, but . . . I guess I've never
blinded
any of them.

 

FELIX,
some embarrassment:
I want to talk to him, Stanley. For personal reasons.

 

STANLEY: Well, if he shows up, I'll tell him.

 

FELIX,
attempting cool:
. . . I want you to emphasize the personal. Let him pick a place and I'll meet him alone.

 

STANLEY,
realizing:
. . . Oh!

 

FELIX: I'm interested in discussing the
whole
situation. You understand?

 

STANLEY:—Okay, I'll tell him.—You want to be any more specific?

FELIX,
hesitates:
. . . No, that's . . . that's about it.
Suddenly suspicious, hardens
. He didn't send you to me, did he?

 

 

Stanley?

 

 

Did he send you?

 

 

Why did he send you?

 

 

Answer me! Did you get yourself arrested?

 

STANLEY: It's complicated.—I can't stand the idea of him being . . . you know . . . hurt. So I thought maybe I could talk to you about it.—See, I think in some part of his mind he thinks it would help the people.

 

FELIX: If he's executed.

 

STANLEY: Crucified.

 

FELIX: He wants it.

 

STANLEY: . . . In a way, maybe.

 

FELIX: How would it help them?

STANLEY: Well, now that the revolution's practically gone, people are pretty . . . you know . . . cynical about everything.

 

FELIX: What about it?

 

STANLEY: To see a man tortured for their sake . . . you know . . . that a man could actually like care that much about anything . . .

 

FELIX: You're telling me something . . . what are you telling me?—Does he want it or not?

 

STANLEY: Oh no! No. It's just that . . . you see—
Rapidly overwhelmed by the vision's horror
.—he gets to where he just can't like bear it—

 

FELIX: Bear what!

 

STANLEY: Well . . . the horror!

 

FELIX: What horror, what the hell are you talking about!

 

STANLEY: Well like—excuse the expression—living in this country! Like when he takes a walk and sees some—some guy sending out eight-year-old daughters to work the streets, or those little kids a couple of weeks ago killing that old man for his shoes . . . Or, excuse the expression, the Army opening up on that farmers' demonstration last spring . . .

 

FELIX: Those people had no permission to . . . !

 

STANLEY,
more and more stridently:
Well you asked me so I'm telling you, right? A massacre like that can start him shivering and he can't stop crying! I've seen him go for . . . like two hours at a time, crying his heart out. Then he stops and he's cool for a while. We even have fun. Then he sees something and it like hits him again and he begins talking like in . . . Swedish, sounds like, or Russian or German—he once told me in a joke that he's trying to find out what language god understands. Then he falls asleep, and wakes up sounding like anybody else—and that's when he doesn't know.

 

FELIX: Doesn't know what?

 

STANLEY: Well . . . whether maybe he really is supposed to die, and . . . like cause everything to change.—I mean, for your own sake, sir, I would definitely think about just letting him go, you know? I mean this can be dangerous!

 

FELIX: I think you know where he is, Stanley. I asked you in a nice way, now we'll try something else.

 

 

STANLEY: You going to hurt me?

 

FELIX: I'm stashing you away until you make up your mind to lead us to him. And incidentally, there's some hungry livestock in there that I don't think you're going to enjoy. Get in!

 

 

My god, he's back!

 

Captain! Come quick, he's back, he's back!

 

 

 

FELIX: Why did he come back? What's this all about, Stanley?

 

STANLEY,
scared, elevated:
God knows!

 

FELIX,
grabs Stanley, shakes him:
Answer me! Answer me!

 

STANLEY,
almost lifted off the floor by the throat:
—I think he just can't make up his mind, that's all—whether he really wants to—like die. I mean it's understandable, right ?—

 

 

. . . with this great kind of weather we're having?

 

 

FELIX: What's this now!

 

How'd he get out!

 

 

Talk to me! Why'd he come back! Why'd he escape?

 

STANLEY: I don't know! . . . Maybe to get your mind off me? I mean . . . it's possible, right?—for a friend?

 

SCENE 4

 

HENRI: Mr. Cheeseboro!

 

SKIP: Hi.
Sitting
. I don't have much time. What can you tell me?

 

HENRI: Can I order something?

 

SKIP: I'll have to leave in a few minutes.

 

HENRI: No news, I take it.

 

SKIP: Nothing. And you?

 

HENRI,
a shake of the head:
I thought an exchange of ideas could be useful—the two of us, quietly . . .

 

SKIP,
slaps his own cheeks then lets his head hang:
I'm beginning to smell the dead-dog stink of disaster.
Straightens up
. Tell me—why'd the General let this man escape?

HENRI: It was a complete surprise to him. I spoke to him shortly after it happened; he was absolutely shocked . . .

 

SKIP: But he had him locked in a cell.—We've made a large down-payment, you know. . . . Or may one appeal to logic in this country?

 

HENRI: This is why I thought you and I ought to talk.

 

SKIP: About what?

 

HENRI: Have you any interest in history? Or philosophy? Where did you go to school?

 

SKIP: Princeton. But my interest was business, frankly. No philosophy, no culture, mainly the market.

 

HENRI: Oh, but poetry and the stock market have a lot in common, you know.

 

SKIP:
Poetry and the market!

 

HENRI: Oh yes. They are both based on rules that the successful never obey.—A few years ago I spent some time in Egypt . . . you've probably been there?

 

SKIP: Egypt?—I've shot commercials all over Egypt . . . Chrysler, Bayer Aspirin, Viagra . . .

 

HENRI: . . . Then you know some of the wall paintings and sculpture.

SKIP: Of course.—What's this about?

 

HENRI: I want to tell you about a surprising discovery I made there. I am far from expert on the subject, but . . .