Monsters and Madman
ACT TWO: SCENE THREE
IAN WHITWORTH'S house, five o'clock the following afternoon. An empty stage, no one to be seen. The lights are dimmed, almost to the point of total darkness. There is a concentration of light, which is coming through the window, around the bar. On top of the bar, in full view of the audience, is a foul thing: a monster's head, or rather, a monster mask. It faces the audience. Half human, half animal, it resembles one of the masks that were used in the ancient Greek theatre, the ones in which the facial features are exaggerated and grotesque. Its lips are parted and pushed down into a frown. Its presence is readily apparent because it is so horrible and extraneous to everything else in the room.
SHAWNA WHITWORTH enters through the front door and turns on the lights. She is wearing a raincoat, which is wet. She removes it with a single sweeping motion as she crosses the stage. She stops at a closet door, opens it and starts to hang her coat on one of the hooks. It is an automatic motion, so familiar that she doesn't even bother to look in the closet as she does so. Rather, her gaze is fixed on the bizarre ornament on the bar. She emits a surprised gasp.
SHAWNA
Good God.
(SIMULTANEOUSLY, DIGBY JONES FALLS OUT OF THE CLOSET AND INTO HER ARMS. SHE TURNS, EMBRACES HIM FOR A SPLIT SECOND, THEN LETS HIM SLIDE TO THE FLOOR. HIS UPPER TORSO IS STAIND WITH BLOOD. HE APPEARS TO BE DEAD. SHE LOOKS DOWN AT HIM BALEFULLY JUST FOR SEVERAL SECONDS. SHE SUDDENLY REALIZES WHAT MUST HAVE HAPPENED. SHE BEGINS TO CRY SO HARD SHE ALMOST CHOKES. SHE STOPS CRYING JUST AS QUICKLY.)
Get a hold of yourself, girl.
(SILENCE. SHE STANDS THERE MOTIONLESS. A PEAL OF THUNDER IS HEARD OUTSIDE.)
Oh my...oh my...oh my.
(SHE WALKS OVER TO THE BAR, STOPS AND LOOKS AT THE MASK. SHE THEN GOES TO THE FRONT DOOR, OPENS IT AND LOOKS OUTSIDE. THE THUNDER CRASHES AGAIN. SHE CROSSES, GOES BACK TO THE CLOSET AND LOOKS DOWN AT JONES, WITH HER BACK TO THE FRONT DOOR.)
What to do...what to do...what to do?
(THE FRONT DOOR, WHICH HAS BEEN LEFT AJAR, OPENS SLOWLY. IAN WHITWORTH ENTERS. HE IS WEARING A MASK IDENTICAL TO THE ONE ON THE BAR, EXCEPT FOR THE MOUTH, WHICH BEARS A LEERING GRIN INSTEAD OF A FROWN. IN HIS HAND HE HOLDS A BUTCHER KNIFE. HE STANDS IN THE DOORWAY FOR A FEW SECONDS.)
SHAWNA
Call the police? Yes...I've got to.
WHITWORTH
Shawna...
(SHE WHIRLS AROUND, STARTLED. SEEING THE KNIFE, SHE STANDS UP AND BACKS AWAY FROM HIM, TOWARD THE KITCHEN.)
I had no choice.
(PAUSE. HE REMOVES THE MASK.)
Honey...
SHAWNA
Stay away from me!
WHITWORTH
It's just me...I won't hurt you.
(HE TAKES A STEP TOWARD HER)
SHAWNA
Stay away!
WHITWORTH
I had to do it. He attacked me. It was self defense.
(HE STARTS TOWARD HER AGAIN, THIS TIME WITH OPEN ARMS)
Shawna...please. Don't be this way.
SHAWNA
Why...why did you put him in the closet?
WHITWORTH
Couldn't leave him on the floor. What if we had company?
SHAWNA
Where are the police? Why didn't you call the police?
WHITWORTH
No...the police would ruin things. There'd be an investigation. There'd be all kinds of questions I might not be able to answer. I could end up going to jail. You don't want to see me go to jail...do you?
SHAWNA
But if you're innocent...
WHITWORTH
Innocence has nothing to do with justice...
(HE PICKS UP THE MASK ON THE BAR AND LOOKS A IT)
The law is just a mask. You have to look behind the mask to find real justice.
(HE PUTS THE MASK BACK ON THE BAR)
Look at Jones...
(PAUSE)
A wronged man if ever there was one.
SHAWNA
What do you mean?
WHITWORTH
(RUNNING HIS FINGER UP AND DOWN THE EDGE OF THE KNIFE) Razor sharp.
SHAWNA
What do yo mean...about Jones?
WHITWORTH
You mean you haven't figured it out?
SHAWNA
I don't...I don't know.
WHITWORTH
He's innocent.
SHAWNA
(MOUTHING, NOT SPEAKING, THE WORD) Innocent.
WHITWORTH
Not guilty, your honor. It was temporary insanity. Please, you must believe me. I didn't kill those women. Somebody else did. Tee hee.
(PAUSE)
I went to his trial, you know. They took him away in a straightjacket. God, I felt so sorry for him. A definite miscarriage of justice...but what could I do. WHAT COULD I DO!?
(PAUSE)
He wanted to blackmail me, you know. Damnit, he came into my home and he tried to blackmail me! And I said no. I made him believe in me.
(PAUSE)
It was self defense.
(STILL HOLDING THE KNIFE, HE TAKES A STEP TOWARD SHAWNA)
SHAWNA
NO!
(HE STOPS)
Please...
WHITWORTH
(HIS MIND SPINNING BACK IN TIME) Hey...sure. That's cool. I can groove on that. You want your own space for awhile...right? Hey, I can relate, man. I been on some bad trips, too. A real bummer, isn't it? Don't worry...it's cool.
(SHAWNA'S FACE REGISTERS HORROR)
You want some downers? I got some downers. Help ya cope.
SHAWNA
Ian...you're scaring me.
WHITWORTH
(HOLDING THE KNIFE AT EYE LEVEL) Don't be afraid.
(HIS EYES ARE TRANSFIXED ON THE BLADE OF THE KNIFE. HE SPEAKS THROUGH HER, RATHER THAN TO HER, AS IF CONVERSING WITH A GHOST.)
I'm your friend. Your soul belongs to me. I know the secret of life, my love. I know it very well. Its meaning is found in death, the sweet release from the shackles imposed by the earth. Come with me and I'll show you...because I love you. I know, I've seen it. I've done it many times. I've seen the light of life flicker out...and I've come to love its tranquility.
(PAUSE)
God...how I love my work.
SHAWNA
Are you going to kill me?
WHITWORTH
(HE DOESN'T ANSWER HER. INSTEAD, HE POURS HIMSELF A DRINK. HE SEEMS VERY RELAXED, VERY MUCH IN CONTROL NOW.) You know, the human species has been planning its own destruction for quite some time now.
(SHE MAKES A MOVE FOR THE FRONT DOOR)
Stay where you are! Or else I will kill you.
(SHE FREEZES)
Good girl.
(PAUSE)
I've made a decision.
SHAWNA
What? What's your decision?
WHITWORTH
We'll talk. Let's decide what to do.
SHAWNA
Yes, let's do that. That's a very good idea, Ian.
WHITWORTH
I know. I talk to all of them, you know.
SHAWNA
God...
WHITWORTH
I talk to them because I want them to know that I don't hate them. That it's really for their own benefit.
(PAUSE)
You're my wife. I love you very much. Do you know that?
SHAWNA
Listen...if you don't feel like talking, maybe we can--
WHITWORTH
You really want to know why I do it?
SHAWNA
No.
WHITWORTH
Because I like it. That's why. I like it. I love it.
(PAUSE)
You see, when I was a little boy I always knew I was gonna be something when I grew up. No way was I gonna be just another piece of driftwood on the sea of life. I'm a novelist, and a poet. And a damn good one. But nobody...nobody...
(HE SWALLOWS HARD)
Nobody ever gave me a chance, goddamnit!
SHAWNA
That's not true. You've done well for yourself. You have noting to be ashamed of.
WHITWORTH
(SADLY) All I've ever been is just another face in the crowd. I'm nothing. I'm a schoolteacher...not a poet.
(PAUSE)
But I have a secret...and it satisfies me.
(HE STROKES HIS KNIFE LIKE A PET)
And that makes me feel good. Real good, honey. I've won it. Because no matter what happens to me now, I'll be remembered for something.
SHAWNA
With fondness and warmth?
WHITWORTH
That's not important. What's important is that I've filled the hollow in my own heart. I've done something, and done it big. It doesn't matter that it's--
SHAWNA
You're a monster.
WHITWORTH
Sticks and stones can break my bones...
SHAWNA
You're saying that this thing is nothing more than a big ego trip for you. GOD DAMN YOU! And what about those poor, innocent women that you killed? WHAT ABOUT THEM!?
WHITWORTH
(CASUALLY) What about them?
SHAWNA
And what about me? I love you. Or at least I loved the man I thought you were. I feel like...I feel like I've been raped. Like I've been raped by a stranger. And just so you could...could..could what? I don't know.
WHITWORTH
It's not an ego trip.
SHAWNA
Go to hell.
WHITWORTH
I prefer to call it...Defining My Soul. Good title for a poem, don't you think?
(PAUSE)
And now I believe I am going to kill you. We've had our exchange, our idle banter, our heart to heart on the meaning of life...and now it's time to lay you to rest and turn out the lights. My darling...this is the moment that makes it all worthwhile.
(HE PUTS ON THE OTHER MASK AND STARTS TOWARD HER WITH THE KNIFE POISED, READY TO STRIKE)
SHAWNA
NO!
(SHE TRIES TO RUN AWAY. HE CHASES HER AND CATCHES HER IN FRONT OF THE CLOSET WHERE JONES LIES.)
WHITWORTH
Gotcha!
SHAWNA
Oh please. Please...Ian, don't.
WHITWORTH
It's destiny.
SHAWNA
It's insanity!
WHITWORTH
It's my job.
(HE RAISES THE KNIFE TO STRIKE. HE DOESN'T GET TO, HOWEVER, BECAUSE JONES, WHO HAS COME TO, RAISES HIMSELF HALFWAY OFF THE FLOOR AND, WITH ONE ARM, PULLS WHITWORTH DOWN AND CRAWLS ON TOP OF HIM, PINNING HIM TO THE FLOOR. HE HOLDS A GUN TO HIS HEAD. THE KNIFE FLIES HARMLESSLY OUT OF THE WAY.)
JONES
I should kill you...
WHITWORTH
(STRUGGLING) Let me go...I have work to do.
JONES
(COCKING THE HAMMER) Lie still...or I'll shoot you.
(TO SHAWNA)
Call the police.
(SHE JUST STANDS THERE FROZEN)
Do it!
(SHE NODS HER HEAD, THEN RUNS OFFSTAGE)
WHITWORTH
You're dead...I killed you.
JONES
Maybe I'm a ghost.
WHITWORTH
(HE BREAKS FREE AND LUNGES FOR THE KNIFE) No!
JONES
NO!
(HE SHOOTS HIM IN THE LEG. WHITWORTH COLLAPSES, CRYING AND BEATEN.)
SHAWNA
(RUNNING INTO THE ROOM) Is he...is he dead?
JONES
No. He'll live. Call an ambulance.
(TO WHITWORTH)
I told you...nothing is ever fully resolved. Is it?
(BRIEF TABLEAU: JONES ON THE FLOOR, PROPPED UP ON HIS ELBOWS; SHAWNA IN THE DOORWAY; WHITWORTH FACE DOWN ON THE FLOOR. SIRENS ARE HEARD IN THE DISTANCE AS THE LIGHTS BEGIN TO FADE.)
CURTAIN