CAUTION: Amateurs and
Professionals are hereby warned that LITTLE KINGS is fully protected
by the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all
countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention and the
Universal Copyright Convention, and of all countries with which the
United States has reciprocal copyright relations. LITTLE KINGS exists
on file at the copyright office of the Library of Congress in
Washington D.C. Permission for public readings, productions or any
reproduction of same must be secured in writing by the author.
An early version of this play first appeared in Oasis Literary Magazine (Winter 2002). A revised text appeared in Spot Literary Magazine 2.2 (Fall 2008).
What follows is a brief excerpt - no version of the below may be reproduced or produced without the author's, knowledge, permission and consent!
© Susan Hansell
A neon sign: “I Am the
King.” In three chairs: Lear, Mrs.
L., Cordelia.
Lear stands, gives a long straight-ahead leer.
Lear: I was.
FatherSonHoly BreadWinner BuckShot of theBlock. Me. theKing. Of
everything I knew. And anything
else I pretended did not exist.
Got nasty with questions I couldn’t answer. Ridicule worked too.
In other words King of my Castle.
Be it ever so so-so. Air
conditioning was soon to make Everyman in America a Master.
Drill to 1960. My castle like so many others. The earth in neat rows. Rectangular clear cuts. Yet I insisted on a King’s touch. A trip to the Russian River. Put the Troops to work gathering
stones. Blue green polished swirls
of Crab Nebula. Aurora
Borealis. THAT looked good studded
in concrete. Up on the castle
walls.
It’s a long way from covered
wagons but not so far in miles or years.
Butte County gold rush.
Hills brushed Straw. Sure
go ahead and drive it in your car.
That’s why they call it theGoldenState. The gold is in the land El Stupido. That same sepia color in old family
photographs. Hang ‘em high on
DryWall. This photo.
My handsome newlywed parents and
their parents uncles aunts cousins the women in long black dresses brothers
nephews holding their hats all standing in front of theFarmHouse. I don’t mind saying a good-looking
bunch too. Though dead they stare
into the camera at what HellHowShouldIknow theFuture.
Now CHEESE for the snapshot
mister we like perfect teeth we like to be looked at By Whom. No one in ThisHome where I lie a PinDot
un conscious of my name my existence did I exist. InThisHome they say I will die. I will die without a spongebath without applesauce cleaned
from my lips without the family I once ruled we’ll see.
Rows and rows and the white
stones roll over silent Colma.
First come first hole. Free
if you lost a son in a war or were such a one. My own brother father mother buried somewhere in those
million military pickets. Shuffled
together. When you walk fast
between the headstones turn your eye to the left or to the right and see the
rows fly by fly by.
No one visits me no one touches
me no one knows exactly where they are buried or cares much why should they
except her. The one we got rid
of. theFieldMouse. She sits in her cage looking
skinny. She cries. But since I can no longer speak I can
no longer humiliate her so I ask you how bad can it be. Can I be worse than anything else.
Lear sits; Cordelia stands.
Cordelia: I have no father mother father
mother. I want no heredity
marriage husband ancestors children dragging me into the LimePit called
family. Yes no. Goodbye.
Cordelia remains; Mrs. L. stands.
Mrs. L.: Dear Cordelia. Try to be a realist. Remember when you came home from
college and wanted to see Grandma after we put her in theHome. I wanted to protect you at least from
that but you insisted. You were
always headstrong JustLikeYourFather.
Love, YourMother.
Cordelia: I will not speak I speak. I am cast out I cast myself out. I take no leave all the while bothering
a great deal to say I am leaving.
Hello. I am the facts of
bone blood DNA human or otherwise fixed side by side with the bluegreen
bottleneck fly. Pinned to
HisInsectChart there can be no pretense there can only be pretense. Yum-yum. Thank you.
You’re welcome. Cheerio.
Beat.
Mrs. L.: Cordelia. Hi. Let me ask
you a question. IF with your thumb
you decide to smash one ant does that ant see AND understand your thumb coming
thus saying to ItsAntSelf OH GOD I AM HERE THEN GONE OH WHAT WILL BCOME OF THE
WORLD WITHOUT ME WILL THERE ONE DAY BE BITTY NANOTECH ANTS WHO WILL LIVE
FOREVER AND WHO WILL VISIT MY GRAVE IN TEN THOUSAND YEARS. (beat)
My my my silly girl I think not.
Cordelia: Did you know ants carry their dead?
Mrs. L.: Why would they carry their living?
Beat.
Lear: You have to believe me I tried! WHERE ARE THEY TAKING ME WHERE ARE THEY
TAKING ME DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME.
please.
Cordelia ignores Lear, holds up a hand mirror and looks into it.
Cordelia: The living and their struggle to look
so.
Mrs. L.: Humph. I think I’ll go bake a cake. Adios.
Mrs. L. sits; Cordelia primps into the hand mirror.
Cordelia: Hello. Hello.
Goodbye. Goodbye. (beat)
Hello again. Hello again. Goodbye again. Goodbye Again.
Cordelia smiles into the hand mirror and talks baby-talk.
Cordelia: Say. Bye-bye.
Cordelia smiles into the hand mirror and notices her teeth and gums.
Cordelia: Oh my!
Enter TheSisters, as Twins “joined” at the Hip. TheSisters split their lines, split
parts of their lines, etc., as desired.
One “Sister” is “obviously” a “guy” in “drag.”
TheSisters: Say bye-bye say bye-bye! Say bye-bye say bye-bye! We never get over that do we? No, we don’t! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Cordelia: Oh me!
TheSisters: (as
a vocal warm-up) Oh me me me me me!
Oh my my my my! Me oh oh oh
oh oh! My uh uh uh uh uh!
Cordelia: Oh no.
TheSisters push Cordelia into a chair and take the hand mirror away from
her.
TheSisters: She needs help sister. Check it sister. It’s pathetic sister. Creepy sister. Skeevy sister. Right sister. She stinks!
One Sister paints red smiling lips and black arching eyebrows onto
Cordelia’s face. The other Sister
then places the mirror back into Cordelia’s hand and pushes her face into it.
Cordelia: Oh!
TheSisters: OH. Oh-oh-oh.
OH. Oh God. Oh God! Yes! Yes! OH OH. YES.
TheSisters snicker. Lear
stands and sings.
Lear: O O O IT’S MAGIC. Oh oh! How this mother swells up toward my head! And makes me want to SHOUT. Throw my hands up and shout!
Lear grabs Mrs. L.; they sing and dance. TheSisters tap their toes, snap their fingers and move to
the beat/s. Cordelia stares into
the mirror. Lear and Mrs. L. stop
and breathe heavily.
Mrs. L.: Oh yes. That was a good one dear. Wheeee whoopee.
Lear: You betcha.
TheSisters applaud politely.
Lear begins to cough.
Cordelia stares into the hand mirror. Lear finally stops coughing then spits loudly.
Mrs. L.: I haven’t the foggiest notion why she’s
always bringing up ants. (to Lear) Do you?
Lear: Huh? No! Yes! What?
Mrs. L.: The ants. Her.
Lear: Who?
Mrs. L.: Your last born.
Lear: Oh.
Beat.
TheSisters: The NutJob! (indicating Cordelia)
You remember!
Lear and Mrs. L. ignore TheSisters.
Mrs. L.: I mean ants are out there every day in
the billions trying to take over the world. Just like we are.
Lear: Just like my funny castle?
Mrs. L.: Exactly like your funny castle.
Lear: Well well well. The apple doesn’t fall far from the
tree. Nope. Yep.
Mrs. L.: Dolphins eat their young too.
Lear: Excellent excellent.
Mrs. L: Then it’s settled.
Cordelia puts down the hand mirror.
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