Parcae

by Nic Prior

Three femmes stand on pedestals in a triangular formation. They wear figure
hugging, strapless, floor-length dresses with an extreme silhouette much like that
of Mugler, Nona in white, Decuma in red and Morta in black. They wear small,
black, round sunglasses, and huge, woollen, wide brimmed hats in colours
matching their dresses. They each hold a long black cigarette holder in their right
hand and smoke periodically. Nona holds a roll of fishing line, Decuma holds a
measuring tape and Morta holds a pair of scissors. They stand stoic, facing out to
the audience.

Nona throws and catches their ball of fishing line.

Nona Do you ever get tired?

Decuma Of what?

Nona Of everything.

Morta Did you have your nap today?

Nona No, Morta, not physically tired. Spiritually.

Morta Oh.

Decuma No, Nona, I don’t feel tired. Sometimes I even feel alive.

Morta That’s a strong word, Decuma.

Nona Unnecessary.

Decuma Sorry.

Nona What a shame.

Morta Life?

Nona Yes.

Decuma (simultaneously) Yes.

Morta (simultaneously) Yes.

A baby doll drops from the ceiling and falls in the middle of the circle. A single cry is
heard. The three look at the baby, look at each other, look at the audience and sigh
loudly. At the same time Nona unrolls the fishing line, Decuma unrolls the
measuring tape, and Morta opens her scissors.