Act Five – in which the
seven recall the dreams they
were lucky to have
[The auditorium is dark when the act begins. When the lights come up, the seven performers are sprawled about the floor of the stage, which now appears to be the interior of a large elevator. Whereas previously the stage was open on all sides, it now has a squarish appearance due to two walls replete with elevator doors at opposite ends of the stage. The doors on the left wall are closed. The doors on the right wall are fully open, but there is a second, outer door that closes from bottom to top and which is open just a crack at the top. All things to have emerged from the bag in Act Four have been removed from the stage. The bag is intact and apparently unopened. It should be positioned on the wall, a step away from the doors on the right.]
[Freed awakens.]
Freed: What on earth? Where the hell am I? What day is it?
Jesus…I’m in a freight elevator!
Madge: Freed?
Freed:1 Madge? Is that you, honey? Where…
Madge: I’m over here.
Freed: Jesus, Madge – are you alright?
Madge: Wait, Freed…be careful.
Freed…I think I broke my arm or something.
Freed: What the hell?
Madge: No, Freed…Wait a minute…Don’t touch it.
Here – if you could maybe…grab hold of my left arm.
Ouch! Wait a minute…I’m afraid to move.
I can’t keep lying here, though. I feel like a corpse.
[sits up] Ah, there. It feels good to be sitting up again.
Freed: I take it you’ve been awake for a while.
Madge: Yeah, a while. Probably not so long as it seems.
I called you several times but you didn’t hear.
__________________________________________
1Rushes to Madge’s side.
____________________________________________________
Freed: Did you wonder if I was still alive?
Madge: Ha! You were snoring like a pig, as usual.
You and that impatient British woman back there.1
Freed: Who?
Madge: Don’t tell me you can’t remember her?
Freed: How many others are there in here?
Madge: Five, I think.
There’s the elderly gentleman in the wheelchair,
his nurse (or his companion…whatever),
then there’s the English couple with the smart-mouthed kid.
Freed: How do you know she’s smart-mouthed?
Madge: You really forget?
Freed: It’ll probably all come back to me.
Madge: Ah, it won’t kill either of us if it doesn’t.
As long as you’re still alive – that’s all that matters.
Freed: Well, anyway…what the hell happened, Madge?
Madge: Exactly what I’m trying to piece together.
Freed: Obviously the elevator took a fall.
Madge: “Took a fall.” That’s a good way to put it.
Freed: How many floors do you think we dropped?
Madge: Hard to say.
We’re alive. Couldn’t have been more than two or three.
I suppose you should check on the others.
Freed: You think I should wake ‘em up?
Madge: I don’t know. Not yet.
You got your watch on, Freed?
________________________________________
1Indicating Clare.
__________________________________________________
Freed: Yeah. Let me step into
the light. My God, it’s 8:50 PM!
That means we’ve been here for a good ten hours or so.
Madge: I would doubt whether your watch was correct, were it
not for the fact that it feels like ages
I’ve been lying awake here – due mostly to pain…
What on earth am I saying – Freed, think about it!
Wait a minute…Freed, check on the others.
Check to make sure they’re all still alive and breathing.
Freed:1 Well, the English woman has a pretty big bruise
on her forehead, but they’re all still breathing.
The old guy appears to be sleeping like a lamb.
Madge: Freed, honey – think about it…how did all of us
sleep for so many hours without waking?
Freed: Didn’t you say you’ve been awake for all this time?
Madge: Well, not that long. Not since we fell. I figure that
I woke up earliest due to the pain.
Freed: How does it feel now?
Madge: Funny, but it’s sort of gone
away a little bit since you helped me sit up –
the pain, I mean. At first I thought it was
my shoulder, but now I think it may be my wrist.
I can kind of move my arm around if I try.
Freed: Yeah, Madge. Why’d we all stay asleep like that?
Madge: The only explanation I can come up with
is that we may have hit a gas main when we fell,
and this box we’re in got flooded with gas.
Freed: Jesus! Well, then we’re lucky we’re not all dead!
Madge: Yeah.
Freed: So you think that the gas subsided then, or what?
__________________________________________
1Freed takes some time to check on the others.
_____________________________________________________
Madge: Freed, look up there - there’s a crack in the wall!
Freed: That would be the freight elevator’s outer door,
which opens vertically.1 How the hell…Somehow
the inner pair of doors were knocked open.
Well, I suppose we got some air after the leak.
But wait, though – that’s the evening sky I’m looking at!
Madge: That’s right – the back door opens up outside.
Freed: Oh, yeah. I’m forgetting ‘cause I never use it.2
Well, the electricity’s out. Nothing’s working.
Madge: Did you check the door on the other end?
Freed:3 Nada.
Madge: What about your cell phone?
Freed: Battery’s dead.
You bring yours?
Madge: No. I left mine back in the mailroom.
Freed: Charlie must be wondering where we’re at.
Madge: Honey, we should be wondering where Charlie’s at.
We should be wondering where everybody’s at.
[pause] Charlie’s probably in front of the tube
with a Budweiser watching Monday night football.
Freed: Yeah, what am I saying...You’d think by now that they’d
have figured out that we two are missing.
Madge: Doesn’t it worry you that nobody’s found us,
or apparently even come to look for us?
I mean, something must not be right out there.
Freed: You don’t mean you think World War Three’s come or something?
Madge: I don’t know, but it’s a pretty good mystery
why no one’s come to get us out of here.
You’d think the delivery guys would have found out
that something was up with the freight elevator,
even if nobody had heard the crash –
or the alarm system would have gone off, at least.
You hungry?
Freed: Not very, but I could use a drink.
________________________________________
1Inspects elevator doors on one side of the stage.
2Punches some buttons.
3Checks doors on opposite end of stage.
__________________________________________________
Dooley: [waking] Flex! Flex! Where are ya, ole buddy, ole gal?
Freed: Sir, are you awake? Are you alright, sir? I’m Freed.
Freed McCann. That’s my wife, Madge Potter, at the wall
over there.
Madge: Madge McCann, you simpleton.
Freed: Sorry, I forgot again. We were just married
a couple of months back. It’s hard getting used to.
Dooley: Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Dooley Baines.
Could you help me to get back into my wheelchair?
Freed:1 You were just calling out for somebody named Flex.
Dooley: Yeah. That’s Flex, over there. You alright, Flex?
Freed: Flex is your nurse, I take it?
Dooley: Yeah, something like that.
At first I hoped it would be just temporary,
but we seem to have taken a liking
to each other. Does a good job, at any rate.
Freed: Uh, this may seem like sort of an odd question, but…
Dooley: Ha! Let me save you the embarrassment!
Funny – that’s how the inquiry begins each time.
It took me a good while to figure out myself.
Before that, I’d been careful with pronouns.
Now I’ll decide on he or she or him or her
depending on what “they” happen to be wearing.
But you can’t say “they” – there’s only one Flex.
If Flex were awake, he’d give you the long version,
and you might still be in doubt after you’d heard it.
He can’t stand it when I’m matter-of-fact
about it, but I get tired of fielding questions.
You hear that, Flex? Wake up and speak for your damned self!
She’s probably awake and wants to hear
just how I’m going to explain her “condition.”
To be brief, it’s a little chromosomal thing.
______________________________________
1After helping Dooley into his wheelchair.
_______________________________________________
Madge: You’re not saying he’s a hermaphrodite?
Dooley: Today they prefer the term “intersexual”.
But yeah, he’s a hermaphrodite.
Freed: That must be rare.
Dooley: Extremely rare, and poorly understood.
Freed: Don’t people with this problem usually choose?
Dooley: That’s right. Usually a choice is made for them,
more accurately. Apparently, though
(and he’s not terribly forthcoming about this),
Flex’s parents thought it would be better for him
to make his own choice when he came of age –
and his choice when he grew up was to make no choice.
Madge: Were his parents idiots?
Dooley: No. They were hippies.
Madge: Well, it must have been some childhood he had.
Dooley: I imagine so. Doesn’t talk about it much.
You alright with the little nutshell I wrapped you
up in, Flex?
Flex: [pause] I guess I can live with it.
Dooley: Speaking of living – did the elevator fall?
Madge: Apparently. We’re not really sure what happened.
Freed: Madge figures we were nearly gassed to death.
Dooley:1 9:00 PM. Nearly half a day we’ve been knocked out.
_____________________________________________
1Looking at his watch.
________________________________________________________
Freed: It’s owing to that narrow strip of air up there
that we’re all still here to talk about it.
Dooley: You okay over there, Miss Volubility?
Flex: No. I hope you are, ‘cause I ain’t good for much now.
It’s like someone went to my cranium
with a baseball bat.
Dooley: Take it easy, Flex. I’m fine.
So the two of you work around here, I take it?
Freed: Yeah. We’re both mailroom clerks in Building A.
Madge: You’re not the same Baines as in Baines, Baines and Beckman,
are you?
Dooley: That’s me. I’m the first Baines. Officially
retired. I drop by every now and then
to let everybody know I’m still watching ‘em.
I guess they’re all wondering where you two are at.
Freed: I imagine your family’s worried,
as well.
Dooley: Alright with me. It’ll do ‘em some good.
Right, Flex?
Flex: Just as long as I don’t get any blame.
Dooley: Any proposals about getting out?
Madge: Believe it or not, you’re the first to mention it.
[Heath awakens.]
Dooley: Well howdy there, young man. Been getting some shuteye?
Heath: Where am I? Oh my God! Pluck! Where is Pluck?
Madge: First “Flex”, and now “Pluck”. Must be the Hall of Nicknames.
Heath:1 Pluck! Wake up! Wake up, Penelope! Pluck! Thank God!
________________________________________________
1Rushing to Pluck’s side.
____________________________________________________________
Pluck: Heath? Where are we? Where’s Mummy?
Heath:1 Over there.
She’s alright. She’s banged up a bit, but she’s okay.
Clare!
Clare: Leave me alone.
Heath: Clare!
Clare: Let me sleep a bit more.
Pluck:2 Yes, I’d like to sleep a bit more as well.
Heath:3 Hi. I’m Harold Clifford. “Heath,” for short.
Dooley: I’m Dooley.
Freed: I’m Freed, and that’s my wife, Madge.
Flex: I’m Flex.
Heath: My pleasure.
What sort of catastrophe are we in?
Dooley: Damned if any of us know, but I guess we fell.
Heath: [looking at his watch] What on earth? It can’t really be that late, can it?
Have I slept that long? Must be the jetlag.
Freed: You’re from Great Britain, I take it?
Heath: Yes. Just arrived
yesterday afternoon, as a matter of fact.
Madge: I’m afraid to say it’s more than jetlag.
Heath: You’re not saying I’ve died and gone to Hell, are you?
Madge: I’m saying that you’ve inhaled a smidgeon of gas,
followed by a rejuvenating round
of air, courtesy of some guardian angel
who sought fit to have the inner doors break open,
thus allowing a minimum of air
to seep through. That’s why we didn’t asphyxiate…
or at least that’s the running theory.
Heath: Lucky, that.
_______________________________________
1Looks around for Clare and rushes to her side.
2Making her way to Clare’s side.
3Turning somewhat awkwardly to the others.
_________________________________________________
Flex: You tellin’ me we almost bit the dust?
Madge: Frighteningly, it would appear to be that way.
Freed: The others must be your family, I take it?
Heath: No, but it seems to be heading that way,
however much I’d like to prevent such a thing
from happening.
Dooley: Would you care to elaborate?
Heath: Sure, why not. Now that it’s slipped off my tongue.
That’s Clare Pollock. She hired me as her assistant.
That’s Penelope, her daughter. They call her Pluck.
Family of entertainers, they are.
I’m what you might call their all-purpose, odd jobs man.
Madge: What brings the three of you across the Atlantic?
Heath: The lure of Hollywood money. What else?
Freed: Has she been in anything that we might have seen?
Heath: Bit parts here and there, but she does mostly stage work.
She’s hoping she can land Pluck in some roles
for older girls that require a British accent.
I have no idea what sort of chance we have.
Dooley: And Penelope’s father, may I ask?
Heath: They’re divorced. Hasn’t played a big role in her life.
She’s grown up with a row of quote-unquote uncles.
Freed: And you’re the latest of these, I presume?
Heath: Yeah, well I didn’t plan it that way, believe me.
First, the London press begins making assumptions…
Freed: She’s famous enough to make the tabloids?
Heath: Not on the front page next to Hugh Grant and the like,
but in the back sections devoted to the stage.
Madge: Then those assumptions serve as prophecies?
Heath: Right. One thing leads to another, you think, “Why not?”
You want to give the press a run for their money.
One day you’re nobody, the next you’re news.
Dooley: How old are you, son?
Heath: Haven’t turned twenty-four yet.
Dooley: I hope you’ve thought about what you’re getting into.
Heath: You mean with the media or with her?
Dooley: Is there a difference?
Heath: I don’t know. Yes and no.
[to Freed and Madge] But I guess I should apologize to you both.
Freed: For what?
Madge: [laughing] Yeah, see if you can wake Freed up.
Heath: She was impatient to get to an interview.
We had already gone to the 40th floor
of Building B before she realized
that we had hurried into the incorrect lift.
Freed: Wait a minute…It’s all coming back to me now.
The girl said something about the word “lift”.
“Mummy, the Yanks call a lift an elevator.”
Heath: Right. I remember. Pluck had interrupted her
during one of her fits of ill-contempt,
which made her even more furious than she’d been.
Freed: Yeah, that’s right! The elevator seemed to have stalled.
She obviously thought that she’d be late.
Madge: And then you went on ahead and offered to let
her into the freight elevator, like a fool.
Freed: Yeah. And you weren’t too happy about it.
Madge: Of course not. Could have gotten us in big trouble.
I told you as much, you backed off, she protested.
Heath: Right. And rather vehemently, at that.
Madge: We let her have her way, and look where it got us.
Dooley: Jeez, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was like that.
It’s your fault, Flex, we got on this damned thing.
Flex: I couldn’t see waitin’ around another hour.
Madge: Let’s stop gabbing about it and think what to do.
Freed: Lucky we’ve got the emergency lights.
Dooley: I can imagine they’re just about out of juice.
Madge: If one of us could stand on your wheelchair, could we
peer outside?
Freed: I think it’s a bit too high.
Pluck: [arising] Heath, why not let me stand on top of your shoulders?
Heath: It couldn’t hurt. Would you like to give it a try?
[Pluck gets on Heath’s shoulders and attempts to peer through the crack.]
Pluck: It’s too narrow. I can’t see anything.
Freed: We can’t hear anything, either. These doors must be
three feet thick.
Madge: Well, I guess if we’ve been overlooked,
they’re bound to figure out in the morning
when various shipments of stuff come rolling in.
Narrator:1 Hello! Hello in there! Can you hear us in there?
Is anybody in there? Say something!
_____________________________________________
1In what follows, the italicized lines of the Narrator are addressed to the seven performers, his unitalicized lines to an unidentified party offstage.
________________________________________________________
Heath: Thank God.
Freed: We hear you. You’re coming in loud and clear.
Narrator: I don’t know, man. I’m not getting any response.
Freed: Damn it, they can’t hear us. What can we do?
Narrator: Don’t assume it. The intercom could be broken.
Heath: Assume what? That doesn’t sound entirely cheery.
Narrator: I’ll try again. Maybe they’re all asleep.
Listen…if anyone’s in there…if you hear me…
You don’t know how incredibly lucky you are.
Right. I shouldn’t be saying that, I know.
We’re trying to get you out. It may take some time.
Certain things have to be moved so that other things
don’t begin to collapse on top of you.
Well, what do you want me to say? I’m new at this.
Dooley: What the hell do you suppose has happened out there?
Madge: I just hope we’re not in further danger.
Heath: From the sound of it, we have some cause to rejoice.
Flex: How long are they plannin’ to take to get us out?
Dooley: Calm down, Flex. We’ve already missed dinner.
Narrator: Listen…If you can hear me, we’re trying our best
to get you all out as quickly as possible.
However, I should warn you: Brace yourselves.
You’re bound to feel shocked by the…uh – changed conditions.
Madge: Please, just leave us alone and get us out of here.
Narrator: Oh, come on. What are the chances they’re still…
Okay, okay, okay. You’re right, I’ll shut my mouth.
I must say, though – I do think they should be forewarned.
Sorry. It shouldn’t take us much longer.
You’ve all been good for waiting this long. There. How’s that?
Clare: [rising] So, what manner of Armageddon have I missed?
Heath: None of us know any more than you, Clare.
Clare: I suppose I’ve been passed over by the rapture.
Pluck: What’s that?
Clare: A little fable the Americans
believe concerning the end of the world.
Heath: Oh, come on, Clare. We’ve got Pentecostalism
in the U.K. as well.
Clare: But it’s not respected
at all and its numbers are far smaller.
Madge: That’s because you’ve had real holocausts over there.
We Americans have had to dream up our own.
Flex: Oh yeah, well what do you call slavery?
Dooley: That happened over centuries. Not all at once.
Heath:1 The Americans present are all enlightened.
Freed: Madge here’s a doctor in philosophy.
Flex: Then what’s she doin’ in a mailroom?
Madge: Sorting mail.
Dooley: Speaking of mail – what about that giant bag there?
Madge: That’s the mystery we were dealing with
that first brought us into this freight elevator.
Apparently the thing’s been getting tossed around
the country for going on half a year.
I don’t think it was ever even registered
with a particular post office anywhere,
but we’ve assumed collective custody
of it…people who have to deal with mail, that is.
It’s sort of a running joke with postal workers.
Freed: You can imagine how surprised we were
to get it, but there’s a little office in B
called “Legal Fictions,” and the bag is stamped with that –
though it’s not the only thing it’s stamped with.
____________________________________________
1Line addressed to Clare, rather crossly.
_______________________________________________________
Clare: Legal Fictions – precisely where we were heading.
Dooley: It isn’t a copyright agency, is it?
Heath: No. It’s a casting agency. Good name.
Freed: That guy who was just trying to get through to us…
Did anyone hear him coming through earlier?
The reason I’m asking…it’s pretty strange,
but I’m just now recalling a really weird dream.
I think it came to me in different segments.
There was a voice like the one we just heard,
giving the seven of us various orders
or missions that we had to fulfill or complete
before a set amount of time ran out.
Something dire would happen if we didn’t succeed.
Dooley: A fitting dream. Something dire has happened, alright.
Freed: No one could remember how we got here,
and we’d all forgotten our names and histories.
Madge: Well, you didn’t remember much when you woke up.
Freed: I didn’t forget that you were my wife.
Madge: No, but you called me Madge Potter for the tenth time.
Freed: Hold on, though…I did forget that part in the dream.
I mean, the two of us were rank strangers.
A little bit, in fact, like the time we first met.
Madge: I had a drawn-out dream, too, come to think of it.
It had to do with this confounded bag.
A bunch of us were wondering what was in it,
and we hesitated over opening it,
although something told us all that we should.
I was the most hesitant, others were eager.
We nominated two of us to be the ones
to approach it and remove its contents.
Turned out, all that was in it was a lot of junk.
But we were told to figure out what went to whom.
In the end, it turned out to be futile.
Heath: What do you suppose is in there?
Madge: No idea.
Likely, it’s already been opened once or twice
and patched up again by the curious.
Flex: Don’t you guys all have rules against that sort of thing?
Madge: Yes, but due to its unofficial appearance…
Well, everyone supposes it’s a gag.
Freed: We’re not even sure if we’re not supposed to add
something. It’ll probably arrive at Times Square
by yearend for the Guy Lombardo stuff.
Dooley: What will you do with it if this “Legal Fictions”
refuses it?
Madge: That’s for the post to determine.
Heath: Could it be some sort of test for you all?
Madge: Believe me, that theory has been raised more than once.
[A rumbling is heard and the horizontal slit has widened.]
Freed: What’s that?
Pluck: Look! The opening’s widened up a bit.
Dooley: I guess that means they’re getting through to us.
Clare: Are they opening the door or raising the lift?
Freed: Either raising or lowering it, I would guess.
[Pluck peers through the slit by standing atop the box and leaning against the door.]
Clare: Penelope Pollock, get down from there!
Pluck: No worries, Mummy – I’m only having a look.
Heath: Could you tell us what you see while you’re at it, then?
Pluck: Oh, just goblins and witches and demons…
Actually, some rubble, a row of lorries…
[calling out] Hey, you! Officer! Officer! Over this way!
I’m afraid that nobody can hear me.
[calling once more] Pardon? Yes, of course we are! How many?1 Seven.
Are you all going to be rescuing us, then?
[pause] We’re all fine, but my mummy has a bruise.
[to herself] You know, I think I could just about slip through here…
[crawls out]
Clare: Bloody hell! Penelope Pollock, come back here!
Damn it, Heath! Why did you let her get out?
Heath: Calm down. They won’t allow her to go anywhere.
Dooley: She’ll provide our rescuers with entertainment.
Clare: The first time in the States since my divorce,
and this is the bloody sort of welcome I get.
Freed: Why would you have gotten divorced in the U.S.?
Clare: My first husband was an American.
Heath: He was your second, I believe, Clare.
Clare: Who’s counting?
Flex: An American husband? That explains a lot.
Freed: You will have a good story to take back.
Clare: I should think there won’t be other compensation.
Heath: I’d be satisfied with a boxed lunch, at this point.
Dooley: Oddly enough, I’m not hungry at all.
Flex: You’re still livin’ off your monthly breakfast banquet.
Dooley: You're right there, Flex. I stuffed myself full this morning.
Flex: And I smoked up all your birthday cigars.
______________________________________
1Looks back to count.
_______________________________________________
Dooley: Yeah, and the partners got a big kick out of that.
Flex: Why do you think I did it? I hate the damn things.
Dooley: Well, you had all of us fooled, that's for sure.
I believe most of 'em are counting you a guy.
Flex: Hope I ain't breakin' no legal hearts or nothin'.
Next time I'll go heavy on the makeup
so to counterbalance the weight of opinion.
Dooley: Flex, that reminds me. It must have been the banquet.
It seems we've all had unusual dreams!
In my dream it was decreed that no one could leave
the banquet we attended until he or she
had asked a question appropriately.
The stipulation attached was that the question
had to be pertinent to the matter at hand.
Flex: That's what I call a lawyer dream, Dooley.
He's always wakin' up with 'em.
Dooley: Yes, but this one
had a greater sense of urgency than the rest.
It wasn't just my life that was at stake.
Clare: And did you answer your question successfully?
Dooley: Yes. I agonized over my question at length,
couldn't come up with anything I liked,
then at last blurted out in exasperation,
"Why did all of you make me ask my question last?
Out of respect for my age or contempt?
If you had venerated me and requested
that I set the procedure off on the right foot,
my question may have cut the whole thing short,
and we might have gone home without further nonsense."
But they liked my question, and that's when I woke up.
Heath: I too had a "mission-fulfillment" dream,
if you can call it that. The continuation
of my life depended on a benefactor
whose voice I heard but whom I never saw.
I don't think it was supposed to be religious.
It was neither God, nor was it an inner voice…
at least, I don't think it was my conscience.
Freed: What was the "mission"?
Heath: To find out what he wanted.
Dooley: You mean to say he wouldn't tell you directly?
Heath: No, he wouldn't.
Madge: Did you figure it out?
Heath: No. At last I gave up in abject rebellion.
This gave me a feeling of great satisfaction,
although I was thankful and told him so,
figuring I wouldn't have gotten very far
in life or elsewhere if it hadn't been for him.
Clare: Well, this may strike you all as odd indeed,
but I had a dream in which I searched for my song.
Freed: Your song?
Clare: Yes. It was like a special tag or badge…
like a defining set of chromosomes
that each person carried within him or herself -
though the exact location was impossible
to find under normal circumstances.
I was granted the ability to find mine.
Madge: And did it please you?
Clare: I was just deciding that
when that rude voice wrested me from my dream.
Dooley: And what about you, Flex? What was your dream about?
Flex: I had the task of findin' my true name.
Heath: Which happened to be?
Flex: The same one that I have now.
[Pluck reemerges through the slit. She is disheveled and visibly disturbed. Heath and Clare rush to her.]
Dooley: I see the young one's back.
Heath: What is it, Pluck? What's wrong?
Pluck: There's nothing out there.
Clare: Pluck, what do you mean?
Heath: What did you see, Pluck? Tell me what you saw out there.
Pluck: Nothing at all. There isn't anything at all.
It's gone. Everything.
Heath: What's gone?
Pluck: [shrieks] Everything!!
[Pluck collapses in Heath's arms and writhes violently. Clare and Heath attempt to restrain her as the others look on, ready to help.]
Flex: Give us space. She's in shock. I'm a registered nurse.
[Flex administers to Pluck, with Heath and Clare on their knees a few paces off. The ensuing conversation among the remaining three takes place in an undertone.]
Freed: My curiosity is piqued, to say the least.
Madge: Whatever happened, I hope it was worth
the trouble of sending a young girl into shock.
Dooley: Soon enough, I believe, we'll be discovering
why to go on thanking our lucky stars
for the rest of our natural existences -
which in my case, of course, should be somewhat shorter
than with the two of you…at least I hope.
Madge: I don't know. I feel older than I did last night.
Dooley: Really? I feel thoroughly rejuvenated.
You, Freed?
Freed: About the same as usual.
Dooley: "One gets what one puts into it." Someone said that
in my dream.
Freed: Guess I didn't put much into mine.
[The door suddenly drops halfway, creating a space large enough for the adults to crawl through.]
Heath: We should all be able to climb out now.
Flex: Think you can make it without your wheelchair, Dooley?
Dooley: Sure. I haven't felt this chipper in a long time.
Flex: [to Heath] I'll go up first. You hand her up to me.
[Flex jumps onto the door, now flush with the ground outside. He offers his hand to Dooley, who exits. Heath then hands Pluck to Flex, who disappears with her. Clare and Heath exit.]
Freed: Let's get going, honey. No sense manning the fort.
Madge: Wait a minute, Freed. I don't think I can get out.
Freed: Yeah, I guess you're right. Wait…I'll talk to them.
[yelling] Hey, do you think you can drop it any lower?
My wife's broken her wrist and can't prop herself up,
and I don't think I should risk lifting her.
[silence]
Narrator: [from offstage] We'll have it lowered in just a few more minutes.
Madge: Anyway, we've still got this bag to reckon with.
Freed: Don't worry. It's not going anywhere.
I'm sure they'll rope the area off or something.
[Madge examines the bag and finds it to be damaged on top and in back.]
Madge: Will you look at that? She put her foot clean through it
and tore it open getting up on top!
[Freed and Madge turn the box around so that the damage to the reverse side of the box is fully visible to the audience.]
Freed: What do you say we have a look at what's in there?
[They briefly exchange glances, and then proceed to tear into the box, Madge taking pains to protect her injured arm. The first few armfuls are wrapping material. Finally, they begin withdrawing books of exact shape and appearance.]
Madge: A Gideon's bible. [draws another] A Gideon's bible.
What on earth…It's all Gideon's bibles!
One after another! A dozen! A hundred!
Freed: Here's something different - some pieces of cardboard.
There are two stacks - one marked "odds," one marked "ends".
[Removes several strips of cardboard similar to the ones used in Act Four, labeled ODDS and ENDS in capital letters.]
Then at the bottom there's a big one.
Madge: What's it say?
Freed: Let's see.
[Freed holds up the lengthy strip, which Madge reads.]
Madge: "Odds and ends. Lost time is not found again."
[Freed puts down the labeled card and skims through a bible.]
Freed: There's a Dylan song that goes like that. [sings] "Odds
and ends, odds and ends. Lost time is not found again."
Madge: Is that right? Bob Dylan?
Freed: Sure. From The Basement Tapes.
Get a load of this. Someone's highlighted
in this one each recurrence of the word "behold".
[Madge picks up and inspects at random several bibles.]
Madge: I'll be damned, Freed. They're all like that - each one of 'em!
What's so special about the word "behold"?
Freed: Here's one for you, Madge. Genesis 12:11.
"Behold, thou art a fair woman to look upon."
Madge: Thanks, Freed. For you, Genesis 15:3.
It reads, "Behold, to me thou hast given no seed."
Freed: However, Genesis 37:7.
"Behold, we were binding sheaves in the field
and, lo, my sheaf arose and also stood upright."
Madge: [laughs] Well, okay. But let's go home and shower off first.
[The elevator door opens fully.]
Freed: They're ready for us, Madge.
Madge: Lo and behold,
lo and behold.
[Madge puts down a bible through which she has been leafing, sighs, shakes her head, then looks to Freed with renewed energy.]
Get me out of here, my dear man!
[They exit arm in arm.]