ACT TWO:
5.
[A CHINESE RESTAURANT.
Gio appears with Coco. Toro emerges from the kitchen.]
TORO: Just one second!
[Toro makes a phone
call. Coco notices that he is bleeding from the left hand.]
COCO: Are you bleeding?
TORO: Naw it’s cool what
are you having?
[Enter Dom. He is
smoking.]
DOM: GIOVANNI. WELCOME.
And is this the wife?
GIO: Friend.
[Coco is totally
affronted by everything about Dom, from his cigarette to the presumption that
she is any man’s wife.]
DOM: Then she will
pardon my rudeness, I’m sure. I must invite you to have a smoke with me. In
private. I’m sure the lady understands.
COCO: I would not smoke
with you.
DOM: Splendid! Here: let me show you the way to the Patio.
7.
[AN OBSERVATORY.]
DOMO: You see, Toro, a
man can run in all the directions of the wind, but he will never escape his
enemies until he travels where the winds cannot go. Perhaps you’ll recall your
former associate, Guillermo.
TORO: Rest in peace.
[He crosses himself.]
DOMO: That I can assure
you. For you see, once the body dies the Spirit ascends and transcends. There
is a limit to what our scientific instruments can measure. All craft that were
ostensibly sent into space returned as a scrap of metal. We never set foot on
the moon. We would burn up in the divine radiance of the cosmos.
TORO: Divine radiation.
DOMO: Precisely. We are
terrestrials, not celestials. But at long last I have attained transcendence of
the human predicament. At long last, via this machine, we shall be able to
commune with those Angels that took or friend away in his dire hour. That was
why I agreed to take part in his ascendancy.
[Pause.]
TORO: Wait. Come again?
DOMO: You surely
inferred it. It was a suicide, but not an unassisted one. He had one wish of
me. And that I granted: that he might ascend and cavort with his ancestors on
Alpha Centauri. And my dreams of late would evidence that the mission was a
success. The years of service to me had not yet so burdened him that he was too
heavy for God’s Holy Hand to lift. And I surmised that his occupation to me had
been a right livelihood. I am relieved of my own doubts. Where my integrity is
concerned, I remain a blameless man. So the Angels shall speak unto me.
[Toro ponders this.]
DOMO: To assuage your
doubts: they all ready HAVE.
TORO: You made contact?
DOMO: I am about to.
But in a fashion: yes. In a dream one visited me and bestowed upon me a
message. He advised me to retune the signal. The Fibonacci track that we kept
sending out into the Aether was out of accordance with the Divine Harmony, as
is all of our Terrestrial Pop Music in the present day. But by tuning the
signal down eight Hertz, I was able to produce a pure needle of sound whose
pleasantness shall transcend any cultural conditioning that is peculiar to human
beings.
TORO: So when do you
think they’ll call back?
DOMO: [Leaning over the control panel.] They shall. Very soon. And I will
be ready when they do.
10.
TORO: Stir-fry. On the
house.
[Coco opens the box to
examine it. It is suffused in red.]
COCO: Is that BLOOD?
TORO: Naw that’s sweet
and sour sauce. Don’t trip.
COCO: Is that *YOUR*
BLOOD?
TORO: Hey. What did I
tell you about tripping?
COCO: Okay, you know
what? This is Bullshit. I demand a refund.
TORO: Shit. We usually
don’t hook those up.
COCO: Well do it this
time then!
TORO: Okay hold up. I’m
a see what I can do. Have a seat.
[Coco seats herself.]
TORO: I’ll hook you up
with some water in a minute! Pick any entrée you want; it’s on the house!
[She eyes him
piercingly and then picks up a menu, as though to spite him. He picks up the
telephone. He begins to dial when Santiago enters.]
TORO: Hey! What are you
doing here?
SANTIAGO: I am here by
appointment.
TORO: The boss isn’t
here.
SANTIAGO: He shall wait
for me.
TORO: Good luck with
that, man.
SANTIAGO: Luck? Perhaps
I had better consult the Oracle as would pertain to that.
TORO: Knock yourself
out. [Confused.]
[Santiago reaches into
a bowl full of fortune cookies. He withdraws one, unwraps it, cracks it, and
gingerly withdraws the slip of paper. He reads it and pockets it, unmoving his
legs.]
TORO: Any thing good,
bro?
[Santiago looks up with
an intense gaze.]
SANTIAGO: A haiku.
TORO: Dope. I didn’t
know we got those. What did it say?
[Santiago leans in. He
waits. Toro leans in as well.]
SANTIAGO:
A maiden appears
Twice before she is
noticed.
Only thrice total.
[Santiago leaves. Toro stares after him. Santiago passes Coco, who does
not notice him, except out of the corner of her eye. She looks up, after him,
but he has past into the Oblivion. Toro stares at her, his eyes wide in shock.]
PART TWO:
12.
[Toro smokes on the Patio. Enter Santiago.]
TORO: You want a cigarette?
SANTIAGO: No.
TORO: Suit yourself.
[Pause.]
TORO: You think that he really did it?
SANTIAGO: What part?
TORO: You know: that he killed Guillermo.
SANTIAGO: I see no reason to doubt it.
TORO: Man. He’s gotta go.
SANTIAGO: He might. But he’s not going alone.
TORO: I want to get out of all of this.
SANTIAGO: So does he. Might I suggest a way?
TORO: For who?
SANTIAGO: For whom? For every one. Like I said: he will find a way to go.
He only wants to take the whole world with him.
TORO: So?
SANTIAGO: If things do not go HIS way, they will an other way. The path of
least resistance. You need not direct this. You can leave that part to the
other players. Simply ensure that his one chance at escape is thwarted. And
then no one shall follow him down the path he has chosen.
[Toro thinks. Santiago takes a moment, seeing the impact of his words
through to fruition, and as Toro furrows his brow in thought Santiago exits the
patio. Comprehension dawns upon Toro.]
ACT FOUR:
13.
TORO: You will receive a phone call in due time. It will contain further
instruction.
[Toro exits. Cisco opens the bag. His jaw drops.]
CISCO: COCO. Do you have any idea how much money I have in my hands right
now?
[Coco descends from her posture standing atop a toilet. Two heeled feet
touch the tile, one following the other. She leans against the door.]
COCO: It better be a lot if it will get me on my knees again.
[Cisco zips up the bag and then approaches the stall. He sets down the
duffel bag, kneeling on one knee, and, still on one knee, pushes it under the
crack in the stall.]
CISCO: It is in fact enough to make ME get down on MY knees.
[Trembling, Coco opens the bag. A sharp intake of breath on her part
communicates volumes to Cisco. She opens the door, wide-eyed, and beholds Cisco
upon the floor.]
CISCO: Coco. Love. Will you marry me?
[He is washing lipstick from his face, the duffel-bag beside him. She is
absent. He sees a light come on from within the bag. Alarmed, he reaches in. A
cell phone lies there. He checks the recent calls. He calls the number of the
call that just ended. The other end answers.]
CISCO: Hello?
TORO: [Pointedly.] Your INVESTMENT is not as safe and SECURE as you might
THINK.
[The call ends.]
CISCO: [exasperated.] What?
[He looks sideways at himself in the mirror.]
14.
[Gio holds in his hands a Sales Receipt upon which is printed a
residential address. He looks about the front porch of the house he came to,
checking for clues to see that it matches the address. From the backyard
approaches Domo, startling Gio as he emerges from the darkness.]
DOMO: Giovanni. My noble, loyal friend. I am so pleased at your arrival.
Come.
[They withdraw into the Observatory.]
DOMO: This is Beatific News, Giovanni. You and I are about to become the
first two terrestrials in several millennia to make Contact.
GIO: “Make contact”? [Gio shies away, sexually uncomfortable.]
DOMO: The Angels have heard My Call, comrade. And they have answered.
[Domo opens a Skype call.]
TORO [as Aliens.]: GREETINGS, EARTH.
DOMO [with tears in his eyes.]: Bless the GODS.
TORO: You have done admirably. Your civilization has grown by leaps and
bounds. You have welcomed the New Age with open arms, though the rift grows
daily wider betwixt the beneficent and the maleficent aspects of your
existence. We welcome the recipients of this call to join us in the furthering
of our ascent to realm upon realm, following in the Universal Tradition that
your True Religions honour as the Expansion and Exploration of progressively
Wider, Deeper, and Higher Planes of Consciousness.
[Domo breaks down in tears. Gio is relatively unphased, but very
curious.]
GIO: So, this is sort of a weird question but, do you guys have, like,
weird fetishes or something?
TORO: Well, we reproduce asexually.
GIO: Oh, okay.
TORO: However, there is an enormous market in our entire system for
videos of video game characters walking into walls.
[Silence. Domo stops crying. He looks up, befuddled.]
TORO: At one point, in fact, it’s funny but we had to fight an entire war
actually just to get more of those controllers that stick if you hold them down
and hard enough.
[Domo creeps up, propping himself up with two hands against the edge of
the control panel.]
It was never figured out why this phenomenon appealed to us so much. Our
people don’t have a Theory of Evolution because that’s gay, but we DO have an
extremely subtle series of religious explanations for it!
[Silence. Trembling, Domo reaches for the button to cancel the call.]
15.
[Toro lights a clove that he has withdrawn from a majestic box (pilfered
from the boss, of course). He smokes it, and as he exhales he uses the tip of
the cigarette to light on fire a sheet of paper. Upon this paper is printed a
short script, and scribbled upon it are several handwritten notes made by a
cumbersome, unsteady hand. Toro shuts his laptop. Then he opens it and puts on
some tunes. He chain-smokes until a car pulls up. The window rolls down to
reveal Domo.]
TORO: Evening, boss.
DOMO: [with murderous finality.] You. Are. Fired.
TORO: I quit.
DOMO: Clean out your fucking work space. You have five minutes.
TORO: Like time is worth shit to me now.
[Toro exits the patio, pocketing the remaining cloves and continuing to
smoke the one all ready pressed between his lips.]
16.
[As Toro loads money from the cash register into his backpack, he grabs a
fortune cookie. He snaps it in two, stuffs both halves into his mouth, ignoring
his fortune. He then notices Santiago, seated at a distant table, eying him and
grinning nebulously. His mouth full, Toro raises two fingers in greeting.
Santiago rises and approaches. He bows. Toro swallows.]
TORO: Sup?
SANTIAGO: How fares your fortune?
TORO: Pretty shit, honestly.
SANTIAGO: Perhaps, perhaps. What does the Oracle profess?
[Toro reaches into the basket that he tossed his fortune into. A strange
complexion comes over him.]
SANTIAGO: Yes?
[Toro looks up, all most a flicker of a congenial smile running across
his face.]
TORO: “Death is not the end.”
ACT FIVE:
17.
[Santiago and Toro bowl. Santiago stands beside Toro as Toro fingers the
black ball.]
SANTIAGO: You have done honourably.
TORO: I don’t know. I had a teacher who said never die for a cause; LIVE
for one.
SANTIAGO: I meant your rolls. You have come close to mastery of the spin.
TORO: What do you mean? I can’t ever get it straight.
SANTIAGO: And yet you curve it in such a way that you all ways are able
to pick up the spare.
TORO: I didn’t last time.
SANTIAGO: Nonetheless: you are able to.
TORO: Fuck. EVERY one is able to.
SANTIAGO: In theory. But Life proves to us otherwise in practice.
Dm.A.A.
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