MURDER/by Hanoch Levin(ACT 3)

ACT THREE

(Five years later. A rich suburb, mansions. Night. Two poor, elderly workers, a Wrecked worker and a Cracked worker, are sipping from a bottle, peeping in a house)

Wrecked: What is a woman compared to peeping at a woman?
With me, it’s all spiritual.
Look at me, a wildcat, a butterfly, all the women in the world are mine.
I flutter over the globe,from mansion to mansion,
Chicago, Los Angeles, Paris,Rome, Hamburg, London,
and at the foot of every mansion is a small garden with bushes,
and behind the bushes an observation post waiting just for me,
and in every window of the mansion is some Linda or Florinda or Fransuela or Jacqueline,
rolling around naked on the bed with some grunting shmuck with his ass sticking out,
and she doesn’t even know that she’s mine, all mine,
thighs, ass, breasts, and all the jumping and pumping and grunting and shrieking,
and all the wriggling in the world of Fransuela and the shmuckolino --
it’s all created just for me.
Get out into the world someday, see an ass.
(Gropes in his pants as he peeps. The Cracked worker peeps in and retreats,yawns with no lust)
Cracked: Oh, an ass. I’ve already seen.
And I’m fed up with peeping, too.
On paper, everything’s well and good,while in reality,
you stand like an idiot, don’t see anything,
just bend over and break your back half the night to
stand in the dark and see darkness,
and by the time you ever see anything,
and by the time they turn to you the part you want,
not just an ear or an elbow,
and by the time there’s also a little lighting,
and by the time you found a good crack in the shutter,
and a comfortable place to stand,
and by the time you don’t need to pee all of a sudden,
and by the time some dog or neighbor doesn’t bark at you all of a sudden,
and standing like that it gets harder to come,
from year to year, your legs hurt,
and to be fantasize is also hard,
the fantasies have got stale long ago,
and most of the women aren’t pretty either,
and if they are still pretty -- they’re wretched,
and they screw like they’re condemned to the guillotine,,
maybe in Hollywood there’s perfect bliss,
do I know? And by the time you do get to Hollywood,
how will you peep, there they’re imprisoned
in mansions with attack dogs,
electric fences and television cameras,
and in the end they too yawn with bad breath.
How wretched they all are,
and how wretched everything is,
this whole rag of a world is made only to shrivel it for you.
(Spits contemptuously and exits. The Orange Whore enters. The Wrecked Worker retreats as if caught in the act)
Wrecked: I wasn’t peeping.
There’s no woman there.
I’m alone.
Nobody’s hurting.
Just looking, not seeing.
Can’t.
Not hurting.
Almost blind.
(Orange Whore approaches him)
Orange: We housewives in this quiet neighborhood,
like calm and cleanliness.
We like the garbage picked up without seeing the garbageman.
Wrecked: I’m not from the garbage, I’m from the scaffolds over there on the building at the end of the street.
Ask about me. They know me.
At night, I walk around a little,don’t hurt at all,just peep in windows at night, definitely not at husbands, I’m a man of honor, just at women,I come and go usually don’t even come,usually don’t even see.Like to view more than to screw,
like to hallucinate more than to fornicate,
like to philosophize more than to visualize.
It’s all words.
Orange: (Lifts up her dress)
Visualize and fantasize.
Wrecked: Missus, I’m stunned.
Orange: And believe me you ain’t seen nothing yet.
The last time we saw each other...
Wrecked: Who?
Orange: When you came into our yard to collect the garbage in the garden...
Wrecked: But I told you,
I never come into yards.
I’m only from outside.
Orange: You intrigued me quite a bit.
Wrecked: Really? If so,
maybe I am the one,
and I really did collect the garbage --
who cares.
Orange: They say you have thick, hot blood.
Wrecked: I’ve been around since the twenties.
Orange: Fuck me!
Wrecked: What a night!
(Takes a flask out of his pocket, drinks)
That’s good, it calms...
that is, stimulates...
that is...
(Holds the flask out to her. She refuses)
Orange: With us, only champagne.
Wrecked: (Drinks and sings)
On a summer night, of sheer elegance uncle and auntie went out to dance...
(Stops)
Excuse me, I have to empty myself...
(Goes off to the side to pee, finishes, turns to the Orange Whore standing with her back to him, hugs her)
Orange: From behind it’ll cost you double.
Wrecked: (Breaks away from her)
What’s that, “it’ll cost?” I thought you were in love.
Orange: Of course, I was in love. But you also need a little support in our world.
Wrecked: Excuse me, I’m a romantic.
(Peeps at her face up close)
And you’re not really a housewife from here...
not rich, and not pretty...
my friend was right...
everything’s disappointing.
Orange: Come on, pal, the night’s lousy,
come on, make an opening --
you’ll get a discount.
Wrecked: (Sad)
I really don’t like to do it,
and I don’t like whores.
And even if I did -- I don’t have anything.
I’m from the scaffolds over there in the building...
Orange: Why do you say “whores,”
you offend me very much.
Wrecked: I’m leaving.
(The Purple and Pink Whores enter, block his way)
Who are you? What are you plotting?
I don’t have anything, I told you!
Pink: (Clasping him from behind)
Search his pockets.
(The Orange Whore gropes in his pockets. The Orange Whore doesn’t find anything. Disappointed)
Orange: I thought he was stealing here tonight
from the whole neighborhood.
In the end -- just a poor bastard.
Exactly what he said.
Pink: They’re all liars;
and that’s the biggest liar --
he told the truth.
(The Purple Whore kicks him angrily. Sound of an explosion outside. Neighbors run in panicky)
First: What happened?
Second: A car blew up,
a building caught fire!
Children are trapped in the burning house.
Third: (Enters in pajamas, hair dishevelled, confused, hysterical)
Quiet! Give us quiet!
One night of quiet!
Every night we say:
So far murder!
From tomorrow on -- peace!
Every morning a child is born
whose parents say:
by the time he’s grown up,
it has to be over!
And the next one grows up,
and the next one,
and the next one!
Waiting so long for life --
they don’t live!

God, give us one month of boredom!
Good, real, Swiss boredom!
I want so much to be bored!
To suffer a depression from boredom!
To hang myself out of boredom!
Oh, give us a little Swiss boredom,
‘cause there’s no more strength for this fascinating life in Asia!
Orange: Here’s the murderer!
We caught the murderer!
(Hits the Wrecked Worker. He’s scared)
Wrecked: Listen, I don’t know what you want,
but you’re making a mistake,I’ll prove it.
(The Neighbors and the Passersby join in and start hitting him)
But how can I if you just hit, and I can’t prove that I’m not something
that I don’t even know what...
(They pounce on him)
Let me say a word...
(They pounce. He whimpers)
I just peeped, I’m just an ordinary man,
from the scaffold over there in the building...
(Falls)
But I’m also not just an ordinary man...
I’ve still got a lot of important things I haven’t said yet...
(They trample him. He is almost unconscious)
Did you know that even I was born once?...
Did you know that my birth was considered good news?...
They even made a party.
I wasn’t born a peeping Tom...
I’m complex. I contain a whole world, thoughts and dreams...
I mustn’t faint before I tell about them...
I’ve also got a solution to the old riddle with matches...
a terrible shame. Don’t let me black out. I want so much to wake up...
I still have a strong desire to say...
(His speech becomes heavy as the beating and trampling continue)
And one more thing...I forgot...the most important...not yet...
(Tries again to get up, bleeding)
All that’s left is the fear:
if I close my eyes...
I’m afraid...I won’t open them again...
(A deciseive blow knocks him out)
I...want...papa...aaaa....aaaa...
(Shouting, the Orange Whore keeps kicking him in the head. One of the passersby tries to stop her)
Passerby: Stop her!
Orange: That’s the murderer!
Passerby: He’s unconscious!
Orange: Kill the dirty bastards!
Passerby: Stop her!
Orange: (Scratches his face, hysterical)
Kill him too!
Kill the beautiful people!
Kill the ballless wonders
who cover up for the dirty bastards!
Kill! Kill! Kill!
(Neighbors enter, carrying the body of the Boy, who has meanwhile grown up, quivering; behind it runs the Girl, who has also grown up, with her hair dishevelled, terrified)
Girl: He was right, there is death!
And now he’s dead!
My ugly, boring friend
with the little pipi, is dead!
He said we die and I didn’t believe it!
He’s dead! He’s dead!
You got to die!
(Sees the Wrecked Worker lying on the ground, is terrified)
That’s him!
Pink: What’s him?
Girl: I remember!
On the wedding night, on the beach,
before we found the bodies of my sister and her bridegroom!
We saw him wandering around there!
Orange: The murderer! The murderer!
(She gets loose from the arms of the Passerby, knocks him down. The Purple Whore tosses a knife to her)
What’s this? He had a knife on him!
(Stabs the Wrecked Laborer in his chest and neck)
Pink: Goodbye to the solution to the riddle with the matches!
(More Neighbors and Passersby enter)
Fourth: Break his teeth!
Gouge out his eyes!
Knock out his face!
Fifth: Find his mother,
And do it right before her eyes!
Sixth: Hurt him!
Hurt him even after he’s dead!
(They beat and trample him)
Orange: Put his prick in his mouth.
(She leans over to pull down his pants)
Purple: The other way around, the mouth to the prick.
(The Orange Whore takes the knife and cuts off the Wrecked Worker’s head)
Pink: Let us spit on him.
I won’t leave here without spitting on him!
Passerby: Why? He’s dead!
Why do you want to spit on him?
Pink: Spit on him!
I won’t leave here without spitting on him!
Spit on him!
(She spits in his face)
Orange: Let me, I’ll piss on him too!
I love to do that in the lap of nature.
(She rolls up her dress, takes the severed head, pisses on it. To the head)
Crazy life.
Some people pay a lot of money to get pissed on in their mouth between my legs.
In your whole miserable life,ever since you sucked from your mother, you haven’t had such treatment.
[(Enter Soldiers, led by the Officer. The Officer sees the body and the head)
Officer: Who did this?
Orange: We did, Sir.
We caught that murderer as he was escaping!
(Lifts up the head)
Look at him now.
(The Officer looks at the head and flinches, the Soldier searches in the pants of the Wrecked Worker, examines his papers)
Soldier: Not one of ours.
Officer: (To the Orange Whore)
Why did you do that?
Orange: So mothers can sleep soundly.]
(Enter the Messenger)
Messenger: The time of calm is over.
The time of calm is over.
The winds of reconciliation have flown away,war is at the gate.
People look at the illusory calm
and ask: How could we?
How was that possible?
Our children will not understand,
our grandchildren will laugh,
our great-grandchildren will not know what it’s above.
They will study history with a shrug.
With a smile of waking from a deep sleep,
people say to one another: To arms.
Pink: [To arms, to arms； On the way, you’ll pass by us.
Officer: (Gives the severed head to the Orange Whore)
Straighten your dress,
and lift up your head.
At this moment you have entered history,
you are inscribed in the annals of our nation.
(Exits with the Soldiers)]

END OF ACT THREE

EPILOGUE

(Two years later. Street, morning. Children are playing. Enter a stumbling Old Man, barely tottering, his back is stooped, emitting a weak voice, like a kind of soft hum)
Old Man: Pa...pa...pa...pa
Child: (To another Child)
Look, somebody’s son.
(Enter the Pale Soldier, now a civilian, wearing dark glasses,blind)
Pale Soldier: I don’t see you, I’ve gone blind in the war that came after that one, but I owe you an answer:
Your son didn’t curse, he wept,
and he couldn’t stop shaking.
His last words, and they will peck at my brain as long as I live,
were: “Have pity on me, I want papa.”
Old Man: Pa...pa...ba...ma
(Goes off)

END