The Right Honourable Mel Sanders’ Chambers o’ Commerce

By Christopher Lucas
V. 1.0 - Rev. 22/08/22

“How far can I go before hitting the failure point? And having
hit it, will I know it? And why am I thusly intrigued? Because
truth, for me, lives here.” - Sarah Garton Stanley

“Boring theatre doesn’t know why it should be live. Like…WHY

AREN’T YOU ON NETFLIX!?” – Jordan Tannahill.

Characters

KRISTINA is a Mixed Race, second-generation Canadian. She speaks

with an Ottawa Valley/Rural Ontario accent. She is in her early
30s. She’s a ‘barista’.

ANTONIA is a native-born, Caucasian Canadienne. She’s bilingual

in French and English and grew up in Montréal. She speaks with a
Franco-Ontarian accent. She is in her mid-20s. She’s a
‘barista’.

IVANKA is Ukrainian. She grew up in Liverpool so speaks with a

hybrid Ukrainian and strong northern British accent. She is
Caucasian. She is a pupil finishing her high school diploma
equivalent and focussing on Music at College. She is a very
recent immigrant to Canada. She’s an /e-Model/ and ‘trainee
barista’ at a high-end-coffee-establishment. She is 17 years
old.

MARISSA is a graduate of the University of Life. She has two

children. She is a Black, native-born Canadian from Mount
Mariah, NL, and speaks with a Newfoundland accent. She’s a
barista trainer.

GEORGE Enjoys body-building. His age is unimportant. His

ethnicity is unimportant. He speaks in a neutral accent; perhaps
RP. He is a licenced peace-officer and Associate Manager at the
only reputable coffee house in town.

[1.1]

A large room, a little like a 90s celebrity’s living room:

Gaudy, golden/gilded, lots of purples, velvet and suede fixtures
 and fittings. The lights are dimmed though, vibrant, intense,
but it’s almost smoky, mysterious, illicit. Loud, nude,
classical artwork juxtaposed against gauche, abstract,
sensorial-disorienting contemporary/post-modern/abstract pieces
adorn the walls to create a cacophony of “Nouveau Riche”: Venus
with cupid at her breast; a 17th Century, buxom milk-maid looking
seductively at the painter with the cow awaiting milking; an 18-
or-so year old music teacher standing at a harpsichord with his
leg cocked on the stool, whilst his three, younger, female
pupils look up in adoration and/or horror depending on
perception etc.; punctuated by a Warhol, or a Mondrian or a
‘blobs and splashes of colour and texture on a page’ sort of
situation. The furniture doesn’t escape this treatment: It’s
noisy, perhaps green velvet with silver/brass buttons. There’s a
bar area USL with high-end liquor on display and one or two high
end beers on tap. USR there is a built-in cabinet displaying
Cristal, Dom Perignon and further expensive champagne brands and
high-end wines. USL there is a classy, ancient-looking, classic
record player atop a plinth. Tonnes of indoor trees and plants
throughout the space threaten to gloss, ‘Garden of Eden’. 75% of
the room is covered in a red and black Persian rug, not from
IKEA. There are a couple of entrances in and out of the room.

ANTONIA
You sorted out a pot?
KRISTINA Few, two-three secs.
ANTONIA
I’m waitin’ hours; two-three secs, been waitin’
Couple-tree days, she’s on ‘bout seconds: hours!
Yet how the nectar’s steeped, what time expended;
What maturation process, what osmosis;
Takin’ t’jail all reasonableness of sense;
Droppin’ silver sacks of milky coinage;
Education for the Trinitarian
Harkening, heralding physicians,
“Come, fix one’s busted jew’s harp,
She’s in there layin’ bent with strings o’caul.”
O There’s not an awful lot that breeds excitement
Especially in this here age and time;
That frantic nature, abominable inevitability
That tempestuous tempest titillatingly worthiness
Of Being, bounced from pillar, post-to-post
Detracts from simple pleasures such as tea.
KRISTINA
Competin’ media. Too much noise to focus.
ANTONIA
Like this iabic foot, I’m stressed, you’re not?!
 Enter the province, pay one’s toonie, loonie,
“Roll up! Roll up! You heard the latest gossip?”
“Messers DalDuca, Ford, and Lady Horvath
Unveil their Model Ts, Tee minus twenty-two!”
Alas, not yet, thou frantic Misdirection
Dyood: Afford us please an ounce of latitude
On that same model, linguistically twisted,
Brings one but a goblet o’Yorkshire’s finest!

KRISTINA
That’s my kind of Model. Brand? Who’s fussèd.

(She hands ANTONIA a mug of tea.)

ANTONIA
Country of origin? Nobody’s listening.
Farmer’s daughters’ melons on the label?
Ugandan, Aminesque besuited salesfolk
Slappin’ fair-trade labels all up stage left
Takes not one jot away from morning’s plea.
Taste-on-buds? Sensational, quite calming.
Transcendental, transformational, totally.
KRISTINA Trust you to talk such trash.
ANTONIA Trash? Tosh! It’s a full-body experience, though. None
of yer coffee, caffeine, cappuccino calamity; making the heart-
rate spin all out of her natural rhythm. No. Tea. Totally tea.
Tetley, maybe. No name’s just as like. Milk first or one hundred
percent 100 degrees centigrade for the pertinent metaphysical
process to occur? Sugar? Don’t make me laugh; s’for fat little
boys ‘n’ Grandma. No. Milk second, please ‘n’ thank you.
Mammalian sustenance an’ just a dribble, mind you; lick up all
the spilled – not tea, don’t spill the tea – lick up that
spillure right from the bovine teat, unpasteurised. Creamy,
half-sweet-sour, eh? Lumpy. Lovely. Luscious. Illegal.
KRISTINA - Ludicrous. -
ANTONIA - Clockwise: un, deux, trois; counter the curse left
lingering by the predeceasing Sinophilic inhabitant -
KRISTINA - I never been one for china cups. Too fragile. –
ANTONIA - Just voodoo how it conglomerates around the rim,
that silky beige; hue of home. Hue of heaven. Hell’s hellish
heat, but heaven’s holy hue. She sits. She’s still. She awaits
round two. The cozy is cozily tucked away; today weren’t the
occasion for whole pot, seemingly. A single china’ll have to do,
I suppose.

(She takes a second sip. Sighs.)

KRISTINA
Y’wanna toke?
ANTONIA Woah, là, been coughin’ blood, eh.
KRISTINA
It’s that dank Government Sativa shit;
I told you, go to Kensington; proper good
Hybrid shit. (Pause)
ANTONIA
Where’s she to?
KRISTINA Which one?
ANTONIA Mrs. Melissa.
KRISTINA
She’s on the sofa, lookin’ like Cassandra.
ANTONIA
Sure.
KRISTINA
She’s here, on the sofa, ‘Queen of Sheba’.
ANTONIA
Already?
KRISTINA Fuckin’ eh, she’s takin’ a lie down;
Couple thirty-forty winks.
ANTONIA She okay?
KRISTINA How?
ANTONIA
Sweet, like. Manuka-honey. Or y’know, fuckin’ daggers?
Filthy mouth there on the bitch as per?
KRISTINA
Zara pencil skirt. John Lennon specs.
90s stilettos: Nor bow, nor ribbon;
Height on the fuckers, y’wonder she’s perpendicular.
ANTONIA
K, sure. Any further observations?
KRISTINA
Such being?
ANTONIA She seem stressed?
KRISTINA She’s Mrs. Melissa.
ANTONIA Spot on, eh, hun.
KRISTINA She’s a seldom stressed dame.
ANTONIA (aside)
Iambic turn o’events may change her temper
If that we reckon true doth come to pass;
Disquiet looms around the very corner:
A workplace fraught with tension, language crass
Despite all levity in verbal sword-play
The situation bell tolls doleful mass
Summoning distemperate souls from every corner
Hiding their grossness ‘hind the cash amassed.
KRISTINA Johnny Fluvlog five inchers, eh. Serious full and
proper fives. Tight little pencil, two be, or not to be; it’s a
question – questionable as the cheeky slit in the back, only a
hair of slit. Piercings clearly visible through the tube. Des
grandes crêpes, bell-pepper saggers, hiked courtesy du secret du
Victoire. Cruella d’ville clope holder in the leftie, fuckin’
rock, fuckin’ size yer fist weighin’ down the right, fuck.
ANTONIA Five, six inchers Mr Fluvog? Suck my clit softly.
KRISTINA Fivers, not sixers. Nor bow, nor ribbon, neither.
ANTONIA She’s in there lettin’ on we knows, ain’t she?
KRISTINA
Sure.

(Pause)

ANTONIA
Right on. Okay. You seen the other one?
KRISTINA
Same room, no punter; sittin’-off the corner,
Lights low. Red fairies, course, but rest the lights low.
ANTONIA
Chez Mrs. Melissa? Chez oblivion corner?
KRISTINA
Off the corner, eh: Chez longue, just0cozy’.
ANTONIA
Chez longue, eh? Just-cozy. They’re together; perfek.
KRISTINA
Lie down on’th chez, it’s contemplation station.
Sit down the corner, mais voilà, three-sixty.
There’s not a broad alive resists that comfort.
It’s comfy, cosy, no animosity.
Pomposity you usually find with Eveie
Vanished to air i’th presence of old Sheeba.
Swear to God, you take a peep them peepers,
Observe f’yerself the transmogrification,
Blood-transfusion, mind-implant, some such, fuck.
It’s chill, the humours, eh, no drama, chill, like.
ANTONIA
Right, sure. Excellent. What about Zelensky?
KRISTINA
Front sofa.
ANTONIA Sofa in the atrium?
Perfect, yeah, good. Perfect. ‘Ante-chamber’.

(They laugh.)
KRISTINA
She waits a-patiently for Mrs. Melissa.
ANTONIA
One tastes the juice before one squoze the fruit.

(The laugh. Pause.)

But have we ensured proper planning this time?

KRISTINA
Right, sure. It’s just. Hun. Look, eh? Bout the prep. (Beat)
Eve’s revved the engine, right-foot-down, and starts–
ANTONIA Woah.
KRISTINA
-I’m there expectin’ somethin’ from Mrs. M
The room stands still and Time stops in her tracks
Yet all the whilst Eveie’s oped her talker
No words just yet but ready to speak –
ANTONIA -Woah! Woah! –
KRISTINA
She’s only gone and spoken out of turn.
ANTONIA
The silly mare is speakin’ out of turn.
KRISTINA
Funny thing, Auntie M doesn’t seem fussed.
Imaginin’ it’s me, or you; whomever?
Supposin’ we’re the ones to cut her off.
ANTONIA She pulls you aside…(it’s fine, I get you, honestly,
it’s fine, I’m hearin’ you.) –
KRISTINA Pullin’ me aside, pullin’ you to the side. Pullin’ you
to the side, pullin’ me aside. Either’s as likely as the next,
though eh, fuck.
ANTONIA Fuckin’ eh. I got this in my head figured, so. We
gotta...look. Supposin’ Mrs. M, she pulls you to the side,
freely admits the fuckin’ thing, pulls me aside, n’importe quoi.
Ain’t no thing from this perspective.
KRISTINA There’s precisely the same weight, perspective
notwithstandin’, hun. Yours, mine. Precisely.
ANTONIA This information must be made freely available to all
senior parties whom being at least peripherally involved at
various touch points as stake holders, deserve shareholder
bottom line forcasts as a matter of course given the various
thresholds of generosity they’ve shown the organization. With
the open secret, it’s too, too hidden, right? You get me? In
here, like, the open secret has to be fully not secret, but
common knowledge. You follow?
KRISTINA
Manifestement. Sure, it’s just -
ANTONIA Out i’the open!
As currently stands, they’re jackals, coyotes, cougars:
Open secret, fully open; we’re safe, eh?
KRISTINA
The less about this headache said the better.
ANTONIA
You’re so conflict averse; just grow some balls, hun.
KRISTINA
Everything is majorly important
Or naught’s appreciated in’s definition.
Quite seldom finds one vistas quite this crystal.
ANTONIA
Sure. Perfect, then. Whatever-the-fuck though,
However she decides to pass it on,
The declaration must be met with pure,
Unadulterated unhinged sincerity,
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I never could
have guessed! How profoundly thrilling, I might just pee!”
KRISTINA
“Might just pee” and “best news ever”. Sure.
ANTONIA
Best. News. Ever. May. Very. Well. Piss. Yes.
Endgame. Godot arrives in a Chevvy Cruz.
Couple three secs elapse –

(The kettle boils. She stands up, fills two more mugs with hot
water.)

What are you..?

KRISTINA
No doubt. I’m...why, what? Ain’t no thing. B.R.B.
ANTONIA
B.R.B? What is this, an early 2000s messenger platform?
KRISTINA
L.O.L , “A.S.L? ME? 18FPortPerry! U? (She laughs) So chill,
eagle.
ANTONIA Nothing not chill ‘bout me. So chill
I’m basically Fridgid Francine. Just gassin’.

(They laugh. KRISTINA takes the teas to another room. ANTONIA

lights a joint. Paces around the room. Has some fun stage
schtick. Returns to her seat. Waits. KRISTINA returns. ANTONIA
offers KRISTINA a drag on the joint which she reluctantly
accepts.)

ANTONIA And?
KRISTINA And?
ANTONIA Qué pasó?
KRISTINA Nada.
ANTONIA Sure.
KRISTINA They’re suppin’ on President’s Choice Finest, No Name,
Tanzanian Blend.
ANTONIA Perfect. Sure. And the Absolut? It’s been touched?
KRISTINA Whom?
ANTONIA The Ukrainian; she has any of the Absolut?
KRISTINA Teeny sippy cup sucks. Baby bottle.
ANTONIA Perfect.
KRISTINA Super chill in there.
ANTONIA Four-leaf-clover.
KRISTINA Solid portents, eh? It feels…cadge. (Casual)
ANTONIA Fuckin’ perfect, eh? Four-leaf fuckin’ perfect.
KRISTINA Update: Eve’s leanin’ back on the chez. She’s put it
up ‘gainst the cabinet though, under the window. Natural light.
Sittin’ flush with Sandy.
ANTONIA Wait. Abort. Stop, wait, whom?
KRISTINA Yeah.
ANTONIA Character and narrative development, much?
KRISTINA Huh?
ANTONIA You said, with the other character, or?
KRISTINA Yeah.
ANOTONIA The fuck is Sandy?
KRISTINA Mrs. Melissa.
ANTONIA What are you -
KRISTINA - Mrs. Melissa is Sandy. Sanders.
ANTONIA Okay. Hold on -
KRISTINA Mel Sanders.
ANTONIA Startin’ when?
KRISTINA Melissa Sanders! Girls from ways back’s callin’ her
Sandy. Family name, Christian, whatnot. Surname.
ANTONIA
Sir name!
KRISTINA
SIR NAME! HOW DO YOU DO!?
ANTONIA
Sir name! Yes, hello, SIR NAME!
KRISTINA
Underneath the name though...
ANTONIA
There’s nothin’ that could possibly lie underneath...

(They laugh.)

ANTONIA Well Obla-di-obla-da! (Beat) Sandy...

KRISTINA Life goes on, eh; so pipe down and let me get this
out. Right, so Mel Sanders’ bolt upright in there, Ru Paul
posture, Fluvog fives waggin’ up and down; just waggin’,
threatenin’ fall off any sec, any mo’. Pokies just winkin’ at
ya; cut steel –
ANTONIA - Please.
KRISTINA Pins soupçon akimbo, flush plum with Eve’s thigh, eh.
ANTONIA Hun.
KRISTINA Maple syrup lips, demi-parted by indica breath: Chunky
collagen sausages, uttering revelations. Reverence in the room
though, eh; can almost smell the atmos, like does in heat.
Peachy-sour.

(Chatting heard, voices off, then silence.)

ANTONIA
Well suck my sanguine clitoris: It’s bein’ discussed!
You hearin’ me, hun, it’s bein’ discussed in there.
Pray tell, how’s the Ukrainian behaving?
Must needs we send in Putin, rough up Volod?
KRISTINA
Indifference. Seated proper. Lookin’ temptin’.
ANTONIA
Ideal world, perfect, wee one’s got little
Much to say. Good kid, perfect, good wee kid.
KRISTINA
Th’look on’her face though – brief glance at them peepers –
She kens full-well necessity of presence:
Presenteeism. Presence of mind is but one aspect,
Presence of soul another trick entirely.
Surprisingly, she got a noggin streetwisedness
Thank her slight years should yield appreciable:
Knows her role. She’s certain-a-ye-sun clued in.
Good and proper. Been there, done that, tee-shirt.
She’s about as intimidated by Sandy
As the F150 is by th’cyclist
Stuttering along Bloor east in heavy traffic:
Baltic states? Gimme a break.
A Baltic state of mind renders her capable,
More than apt and able to hold her own;
Fully aware of th’illusion being conjured:
Forbidden fruit, un-poppèd cherry juice;
A couple, two-three dances, peck o’the cheek,
A little verbal foreplay afore action,
Then bam-bam, jackpot, pre-jizz in their kecks,
Pass ‘em onto one of we th’tried-and-testeds.
She’s knows she’s not called to do double duty.
 No, not for less than seven, eight tonne.
ANTONIA Correct.
KRISTINA
That’s just the way you make the Tutti Frutti,
The way it’s always been, traditional.
To hold the arc together’s our duty,
Regardlessness how inconceivable.
ANTONIA
She adorned tonight then?
KRISTINA Whom?
ANTONIA The baby!
Is she fully accoutred? Bunny ears?
KRISTINA
Not currently. Ears on the mannequin.
ANTONIA
Woah, wait a minute; halt! She’s removed them?
KRISTINA
Temporarily. They’re on the mannequin.
ANTONIA
Woah, fuckin’, wait. – she’s in there unapparelled?
She’s with Mrs M, ungeared, underdressed?
She’s supposed to be i’th’tee-shirt and bunny ears.
No mistakes, no holds. That was the deal.
The fuck’s she playin’ at?
KRISTINA Hun, what’s the issue?
ANTONIA
Is this happ’nin’? Is this happ’nin’ presently?
KRISTINA Yer
Makin’ a mountain out the proverbial!
ANTONIA
She’s supposed to be dressed! It’s a costume!
She’s a character!
KRISTINA Hun –
ANTONIA She’s Tweenie Rabbit!
Tweenie Rabbit, bunny ears, tweenie tea-shirt!
KRISTINA Hun –
ANTONIA Tweenie Rabbit, tweenie character!
That’s the entire game!
KRISTINA I don’t disagree!
Just chill, eagle. Pace those thoughts of yours.
ANTONIA
Sure, chill, I’m chill, who says that I’m not chill?
Someone comes up to me gasses’ I’m not chill
Someone’s comin’ up in a minute sayin’ that?
Saul Goodman. That person dieth; on my honour,
Let she who speak those words know they’re her last ones!
KRISTINA
This is chill? (Pause)
ANTONIA
Eve goes out finds her the perfect costume
She needs at th’bare-minimum, at least have
The decency to play her wholesome part.
Not sayin’ full-blown-Strasberg/Adler/StanSlav
But at bare fuckin’ minimum, no breaks of character
Nor form.
KRISTINA
Forty centigrade outside. Forty-two th’humidex.
ANTONIA
Sweat-on! See if I care, sweat right away
Your heart’s content! Mrs. Melissa’s well within
Her rights to be expectin’ th’package deal.
KRISTINA
Calme-toi. For heavens’ sake, will you get o’er it?
ANTONIA
What’s her name? Plain Jane Jessica Rabbit?
No. She were named Plain Jane Jessica Rabbit,
Then hell for leather, Jimmy, Clint, avatter!
KRISTINA
Imperturbable ambiance in there.
Joe-Clothes – t’would seem’s - the order of the meetin’.
She’s on the money takin’ off ears,
Sortin’ herself out more professional.
ANTONIA
Joe-Clothes you say? The order of the meetin’?
Dress down, you say, the order of the day?
KRISTINA
Far as this here dame can sense the wind’s song.
ANTONIA
This causes me t’become severely troubled.

(Beat, then Pause. Then silence.)

ANTONIA Is the tattoo visible?

KRISTINA Which?
ANTONIA The tattoo, is it clearly visible?
KRISTINA Fuckin’ eh, you think she’s daft?
ANTONIEA Chink of respite. Nay, a gram.
KRISTINA On earth you reckon’s goin’ on over there? She’s as
like to turn up sans visibility the main event?
ANTONIA Right on, okay. Alright, I’m simply a little tetchy. A
wee bit Poutine Charlie. Little excitable.
KRISTINA Tatt’s on full show so calm yer tits.
ANTONIA Titties calm, chill as an eagle, man.
KRISTINA Keep that chill, eagle. Some pray might be passin’ by
any moment, eh.
ANTONIA Chill as a cucumber. Just cookin’ on gas’, me, hun.
KRISTINA Manifestement.

(Beat. Pause. Silence.)

ANTONIA
Lesson for life: never forget t’afford
Half your lasagna to the fattest of cats.
KRISTINA
Precisely. What? Excuse me? Come again.
ANTONIA
Yer run-o’-th’mill plebs of society
Ain’t cottoned onto this, eh? That is why
They’re consistently being Darwinned out.
Yer bog-standard pleb, she’s got a simple mind
And an ungodly, glut’nous disposition.
KRISTINA
What’s that got to do with the price of bread?
ANTONIA
Glutton, not gluten: Deadly, early sins,
Asleep to knowledge of the Fruits o’th’Spirit.
KRISTINA
Juicy, sounds like.
ANTONIA Right on, so. Scummy Sally
Yer filthy Bum of Bowmanville gets handed;
Handed freely (no less) by th’ welfare state, no less,
A Willy Wonka the promised land:
What does she do?
KRISTINA Scoffs all the chocolate.
ANTONIA
What a greedy fuckin’ hoardin’ fuckin cunt.
Says I –
KRISTINA - Says you?
ANTONIA Says I.
KRISTINA Says you!?
Says, ‘I’!

(Beat. ANTONIA winks.)

She’s cadged this gift, this prize, this golden ticket,

This key; and she’s got no thanks, zilch respect.
She’s hidden th’fucker underneath the mattress.
Not a thought for ye old natural kingdom.
KRISTINA
Not Eve, for sooth; she’s of the natural kingdom!
ANTONIA
Thence, whence lies the key to ope the locked door
Behind which hides – in bold-as-brass plain-sight –
Our key t’th’radical upside-down kingdom, though?
You knows it, I knows it, we both knows it.
Eve’s been knowin’ it. Mrs. Melissa too.
Where’s our key? There’s th’key, eh. Skeletal, right?
Right under th’shnoz o’ Scummy Bowmanville Sal.

(Beat.)

KRISTINA
Yeah.
ANTONIA
So one’s out, right, one’s out right after shift;
Passin’ on th’left hand don’t I spy me King Slice:
Argument’s sake, and in th’interest of balance
One must recount all things with equal yoke
And therefore s’right and proper to declare that
Other Pizzerias are available.
KRISTINA
How very CBC.
ANTONIA I thank you kindly.
KRISTINA
Mandade: “EDUCATE, INFORM AND ENTERTAIN!”
ANTONIA
Right on! So say right, say for sake of argument,
I stops at King Slice, grab oneself a slice.
A greasy, cheesy heart attack of goodness;
Nay, not a slice, a Medium ‘Jardin Vert’,
Extra pineapple and anchovies.
KRISTINA
You are disgraceful, gross and heathenish.
No...honestly. That’s fuckin’ disgraceful.
ANTONIA
Large Veg Lasagne for the morrow’s luncheon.
KRISTINA
Well now we’re a-gassin’-
ANTONIA - Cookin’ right on gas.
Gassin’ right on fire! Outta yer flames,
But who decides to rear their feline face?
Oh but it’s only fuckin’ Garfield.
Got Garfield poppin’ up at yer shoulder. Like:
“Oh hai Garfield!” (Yer shittin’ yer yoga pants;)
One sec mindin’ yer business, next, WAM-BAM,
Fattest of fat cats breathin’ down yer neck;
What ya gonna do? Very fuckin’ least bare min
 Yer handin’ over half, two-thirds that there
Veggie Lasagne; bare min, couple three
Four slices, Garfield’s lookin’ peckish, eh.
KRISTINA
Lesson for life.
ANTONIA Hun.
KRISTINA Yeah?
ANTONIA Babe.
KRISTINA Yeah?
ANTONIA Listen, hun. (Beat)
Mrs. Melissa Sanderson IS Garfield.
KRISTINA
No quotidian domestic-short-hair.
ANTONIA
A lynx of the Iqualuit outback.
KRISTINA
That she is; essentially a Cheetah.
ANTONIA
The head Cheetah Girl. She’s Raven Simoné
With transcendental powers of telepathy
and psychopathy.
KRISTINA Clairvoyant, that’s for true.
ANTONIA
We serve us well to ne’er forget such lessons.

(Pause)

Important to note, though; she approached us, eh.

KRISTINA
For sure, yeah.
ANTONIA Right? Hollywood make this flick,
I want it pissin’ crystal th’ direction
O’ travel here: Melissa Sanders
Approached us, with her value proposition.
KRISTINA
Mother of God. The ‘it’ girl o’ Queen West.

(Pause. Stage Schtick. Silence.)

You been with Justin Trouble?

ANTONIA Big Pierre’s guy, right?
KRISTINA
Well Trouble goes to me this afternoon,
He goes to me, right, “When Teenie Bunny says,
‘Heyyyyy Justin!’ - walks me from her hostess ante
To the atrium, it’s like my nipples
Send an electric shock right to my cock
 And then I have to consciously hold back,
From spaffin’ o’er th’grand-millenial’ Persian.”.
I’m givin’ it like, ‘’Oh...yeah...sure...” battin’ the
eyelids,
Tryna avoid the gaze, lest one guffaws.
His nipples – his male nipples – sends an electric shock.
ANTONIA Sure eh hun, y’see ‘em kilos off, miles’n’yards;
matriculation into the imperial fraternity, it’s like, yeah –
yer mature ‘gentlemen.’ Yer ‘Respectables’. Captured like
mosquitoes in quinine, pretendin’ play it cucumber – “…not
interested, she’s too young…”, obla-di-obla-da; gassin’ on they
don’t enjoy it too much; tryna hide they secretly hate
themselves comin’ in at all.
KRISTINA In the atrium, she’s givin’ it large, playin’ a
fuckin’ tarantella on them. “I’ll give you my personal Insta for
$500”. Wink, wink. Couple, two-three nudges.
ANTONIA Sunday, Monday she’s beggin’ Mommy for a ride to
MacDo; Tuesday’s on the phone to me. “Got any shifts?” Weep
weep, back the drawin’ board. Problem with these ones from the
other place. This is the inherent problem with outsourcing
human capital solutions.
KRISTINA Seventeen. Baby.
ANTONIA Fiscal protection, eh...Sustainable financial
underwriting of our thing...commodification of the pubescent
form...Yung, Freud...fucking...Tok-Tik, FriendFace, Twatter,
Grammarphone whatever, ChatSnaps whatnot...the rest...
KRISTINA All the punters, they piss when she talks. Piss at
that voice. Meat grinder consonants. Why they do that thing with
the consonants? Punters piss just the thought. “Perfect little
fluffer.”
ANTONIA Wait, what?
KRISTINA Georgie’s well aware, he’s in the bathroom with the
mop’n’bucket. Can’t help theirselves; just drownin’ in piss.
ANTONIA They piss?
KRISTINA Can’t told their water. They piss. Piss theirselves.
Piss right through their undies and slacks. Explosion! Vesuvius!
Must be sexual, must be connected. Shit too, probably. Ask
Georgie, he lives it, hun.
ANTONIA Woah, wait. Hang on – wait. They shit?
KRISTINA Everywhere, most likely.
ANTONIA How is that even anatomically explicable?
KRISTINA Explicable for that there is a complete lack of
sphincteral control amidst the gaze of a bunny eared, tight tee-
shirted, teenie bopper. Depressin’-fuckin’-reality-of-existence.
Disgusting, depressing, foul, loathsome globe. Fin. Finito,
death, darkness, no more story. Message Ends. Send Help. SOS.
 (Silence. KRISTINA goes over to the bar and pours them both two
flutes of champagne.)

ANTONIA General rule though, for us, for our game; can’t
really complain. Since she’s brung o’er y’know how much my
pocket linin’s stressin’?
KRISTINA Same.
ANTONIA C’est la vie.
KRISTINA Cheers.
ANTONIA Skål
KRISTINA Santé!
ANTONIA Salud.
ANTONIA Sláinte!
KRISTINA Dubrovnik.!
ANTONIA Quidditch!

(They laugh. By the end of the ‘cheers-banter’ their glasses are

empty. ANTONIA goes over to fill them up again, brings two more
over.)

ANTONIA
Jesus came to visit me over night, hun.
KRISTINA
Not one jot taken aback by that, babe.
ANTONIA
Musta had him on the mind and whatnot.
Here’s the million -

(A bell tolls ding, ding, ding)

- million dollar
As I can see it, hun, y’know, y’know?
As is relates to the big, “I Am”;
‘Cos there’s no way it’s worth a penny less,
And with inflation we could jump to silly figs,
So realistically, for linguistic sake, keep it simple?
With Christ it’s always the ‘million’ dollar question.
The one on everyone’s mind, right? It’s straightforward, yes?
Sin.
Sin and vice.
Vice, sin city, St Andrew’s Angels drowning:
In an allegorically parted sea of absinthe
Fisherman undergo baptisms of fire.
You follow?
So I’m down there with Jesus right; no, not him,
I’m with, er, Pastor Danny from the Woolgatherers
Amateur dramatic society.
 (I played Curly’s wife to his old-man-crooks)
So we’re down the park, wee café Canadien:
Maple, cream, wee chocolate croissant.
No choc for Danny, he’s not into sweet-breads
On account of the, well...y’know, the prophecy...
No matter, I locks up the Olivetti
With the new Combi, fresh from Crappy Tire
No sooner than the lock clicks her mouth shut,
Old Danny’s giving it the old, “How do?”
Straight in with the interrogatory
Cool as a cuke, I’m back, “Fantastically Well,
But unfortunately, not too close to spectacular.”
He’s not a fan of this challenging sentiment,
It’s written clear as day all o’er his face!
Whatever, he avoids the gaze a moment,
Says he’s gotta tend to his own bike
Seeing as I took up the only hydrant.
I clocks we’re on the same in finest footwear.
The Blundstone Chisel Toe, in Rustic Brown.
I makes some joke about, “Maybe we’re both bisexual”.
He doesn’t laugh.
Comes back with that he doesn’t like the croissant.
“Why is it all the bakeries this side of town’s Portuguese.”
Why is it that all the bakeries this side
Of town are Portuguese?
KRISTINA Obrigado
For that rendition, but was he even Jesus
Or just some sexy priest you took for coffee?
ANTONIA
That’s simply contextual backdrop for the main event.
The dream in which the saviour came to see me.
KRISTINA
Are you feelin’ stoned? That hybrid’s quite the kicker.
ANTONIA
I AM’s lookin’ at one, right, He’s staring
Right into one’s peepers, bold as brass, right,
And one’s thinkin’, is this cunt gonna speak
Or what? And just then when one’s just ‘bout ready
Give Him cold shoulder he goes t’me, he goes,
“Hun. It’s yer time, hun. Now, I’th’immediate future
For you, hun, it’s yer time.” He’s gone, “Sit tight,
Hun, yer numbers are gonna come good, BINGO just
Sit-tight, keep shtum, keep yer noggin down, hun,
Shnoz the grindstone, peepers wide open,
Yer number’s comin’ good hun, just hang tight, eh?”
KRISTINA
Not one jot taken aback by that, babe.
ANTONIA
He’s gassin’ on like, “Yo – keep yer nose clean.
He’gassin’ on like, “Keep yer ears open.”
He’s waxin’ lyrical, “How dost thou like that bird song?
Write it down; perceive their melody,
Such harmony is in avian souls, so
Notate it, transcribe it, orchestrate it.
Keep yer nose clean, mais voilà.” He’s concluded,
“Do as I say, Antonia, yer onto a winner.”
KRISTINA The prophet Mohammed (prise be to his holy name)
appeared to me in a Beaver Tail yesterday afternoon, babe;
y’know what he said, he looks at me dead in them peepers and he
goes, “I’m dead I don’t exist, neither does that Jesus fella or
the fat kid with the world in his mouth – only thing in his
mouth’s a quarter chicken dinner, ya dig? And anyway, Do
whatever the heck y’want why would I care it’s yer life I’m dead
an’ gone, an anyway I never had magical powers so check your
sources, and anyway even if I did – which I don’t, no-one does -
I wouldn’t tell you, but I didn’t and don’t so...mis-confusion
averted, anyhow, so yeah, whatever; and anyway, crack-on, babe.”
Simples.
ANTONIA
I guess He’s a good guy, but he’s a guy
Nonetheless so frankly, fuck him sideways.
That’s my toonie fer th’communal tip jar.
KRISTINA
Exactly, just as you quite correctly
Stated. Give him a long hard fuck and show him
What he was missing with old Mary Maggs.
ANTONIA Look, I mean, I love the chap, but the big cheese can
take a runnin’ jump far as I’m concerned. Why would I need
Jahweh when I got Beyoncé, eh? Three degrees separation too: my
cousin’s ex’s sister went Cochella to see her nephew - he’s the
sax player for Kendrick - his girlfriend from Nunavut’s with
them and literally brushed up ‘gainst Queen B by accident,
happenstance while watchin’ Paul Simon do the Graceland thirty
five set, so, three degrees, right? Balls to the wall with
Yeshua you got three degrees from Queen B. Give the son of Dave
a long hard sideways shag and let him taste my sweaty, sour,
lady cock, so long as I got three degrees from B; eventually
I’ll be number one, two in the queue to be chompin’ on hers.
KRISTINA
What I would give to suck the queen’s piece, babe.
ANTONIA Fuck, eh, hun.
KRISTINA Fuckin’ eh, hun.
ANTONIA Fuckin’ eh.
(Enter IVANKA with a guitar. She just stands there for a while.
They all stare at each other. Then she starts to play and sing:

INANKA (Sings)

SMOKIN’ BLUNTS, DA-DE-DUM

SMOKIN’ JOINTS, DA-DE-DUM
SMOKIN’ SPLIFF, DA-DE-DUM
LET’S DRINK CHAMPAGNE
AND DANCE ON THE TABLE.

KRISTINA
How’s it goin’, hun?
ANTONIA Ya, How’s it goin’, hun?
You doin’ good, hun?
KRISTINA Are you doin’ good, babe?
ANTONIA What’s juicin’ in the fray? Couple two-three John’s
Still in the house gettin’ their money’s worth?
IVANKA
S’appnin th’girls. Mega soiré th’night. Twisted off me cake,
girls. Twisted off me gateau th’girls, isn’t it?
ANTONIA
Right on.
KRISTINA You sure yer doin’ okay, hun?
IVANKA Sound-s-a-pound, girl, yeah; I’m sound-s-a-pound.
Light-s-a-loonie; girls, yeah; twisted as a toonie girls, isn’t
it? (Laughs)
KRISTINA
Oh Yah? ‘Cos truth be told y’sound a little
Poutine Charlie, I dunno, hun, I dunno...
IVANKA Is right. Go on with yer bother; let’s avva sesh,
right? Few pills, bitta powder...get fucking twisted toonies, is
it, th’girls? Get this party started on a Saturday night –
ANTONIA
So...yeah. No, cos...no, tonight’s not gonna –
IVANKA Eveybody’s waitin’ for me to arrive - Pissin’ snoozes,
the both ya. (She lights a spliff. Caughs. Pause) So?
S’th’craic?
KRISTINA
Rien.
ANTONIA Zilch.
KRISTINA Nada.
IVANKA Nothin’?
KRISTINA Nope.
ANTONIA Niente.
KRISTINA
Zero
ANTONIA Nout.
KRISTINA Hakuna.
ANTONIA Naught.
IVANKA Matata?
ANTONIA
Oh, shit, hun, pretty much always matata.
KRISTINA
Mo’ money, mo’ matata, as the prophet Timon says. –
IVANKA Serious, like?
ANTONIA
Noooooo, nothin’ too, too...they’s just in there talkin’.
KRISTINA
Talkin’, sure, right, that’s it. Talkin’, yeah.
ANTONIA
Precisely.
IVANKA So what’s the craic then?
KRISTINA Hakuna; nothin, hun.
S’a’super chill atmos; real chill environs, eh?
IVANKA Y’what? Behind them there doors?
KRISTINA Exactly.
Rien du tout. We three might just maybe, ‘hushed tones’.
IVANKA Discretion’s me middle name. (sings) WE FOUND LOVE IN A
PERFECT PLACE! WE FOUND LOVE -(Laughs) Hushhhh!
ANTONIA
You got it: Zipped.
IVANKA I’m headin’ Rexall, th’girls.
KRISTINA
Perfect. Pick up a pack of twenty ribbed?
IVANKA Sort us out a Dirty Porn-star ‘Tini? For fifteen hence,
and counting?
KRISTINA
Dirty?
IVANKA Olive juice.
ANTONIA In it?!
IVANKA Shot o’th’side: Few olives for
to satiate one’s savoury desirings.
ANTONIA
Fuckin’ animal.
KRISTINA Ya, fuckin’ primal that, hun.
IVANKA Go on with yer bother. You standin’ there ‘bout t’tell me
y’never heard of chocolate and cheese? Apples’n’peanut butter?
Bacon; the maple kind?
ANTONIA
The maple kind?
IVANKA Hell yes the maple kind!
KRISTINA
The maple kind, or e’en applewood smoked.
ANTONIA
Pineapple’n’Anchovy now come to think of’t...
IVANKA Y’what? Is that some sorta sick joke? Cos that’s
twisted toonie, Poutine Charlie come t’supper. I like a jest,
th’girls, y’know, I’m in f’r a penny in f’r a pound it comes to
jest, but don’t let’s take it fuckin’ Timbuktu, eh? Pineapple
and anchovy? Y’r avvin’ a laugh. “Bring me a fish’n’fruit flat-
bread, thank you kindly barkeep! CIAO BELLISSIMO! Y’d get barred
for life from Pizza Nova for a toppin’ o’that description. Na,
not in this lifetime. Alas, I’m back in hop skip n’a jump: In a
twinkin’ th’girls! Fun’n’games back here, few pills, the works –
through to a solid brunch on the cards, right, isn’t it?

KRISTINA
Sure, brunch.
ANTONIA Yeah.
KRISTINA Right on.
ANTONIA Sure.
KRISTINA Not sure ‘bout pills, hun...

IVANKA (Sings) SMOKIN’ BLUNTS, DA-DE-DUM

SMOKIN’ JOINTS, DA-DE-DUM
SMOKIN’ SPLIFF, DA-DE-DUM
LET’S DRINK CHAMPAGNE
AND DANCE ON THE TABLE.

(She has a coughing fit.)

IVANKA Ugh, coughin’ blood almost looks like.

KRISTINA
Dank Government sativa. Go to Kensington,
Indica-hybrid flower; roses, no ‘regulation’.

(Laughs, then sings.)

SMOKIN’ BLUNTS, DA-DE-DUM

SMOKIN’ JOINTS, DA-DE-DUM
SMOKIN’ SPLIFF, DA-DE-DUM
LET’S DRINK CHAMPAGNE
AND DANCE ON THE TABLE.

IVANKA Hush!!!! (Laughs then exeunt. Beat. Pause. Silence.)

KRISTINA She clued in?

ANTONIA You reckon?
KRISTINA Sandy’d never let on.
ANTONIA Eve’d never let on.
KRISTINA Georgie clued in?
ANTONIA Sandy’d never let on.
KRISTINA Eve’d never let on. It’s a matter of truth, honesty,
trust. Eve’d never let on to her.
ANTONIA Eve’d never let on which way the wind were blowin’
fear of the prophecy comin’ good. She ain’t clued in.
KRISTINA When y’got no clues, y’can’t be clued in, so...
ANTONIA Right on. Right on. Fini, finito, termination
station.

(Pause)

KRISTINA
Hun. Little birdies gassin’ on ‘bout ‘halfsies’.
ANTONIA
Alright. Wait, what? A repetition, please?
KRISTINA
Je ne sais pas, alors, je ne sais pas.
ANTONIA
Alright. Repetition of your previous, please?
KRISTINA
Je ne sais pas, alors. Moi j’sais pas...
ANTONIA
Little birdies gassin’ on ‘bout ‘halfsies’.
Your ‘Little Birdies’ and ‘Halfsies’, th’fuck?
KRISTINA
I know not. Y’r always with th’elaboration
Exaggeration. N’need to climb the molehill.
ANTONIA
Right. Fuckin’. Right. Sure. Perfect. Abort ship.
Abandon this whole...you gotta be sure;
Use one’s noggin proper; it were Sandy?
KRISTINA
Whom?
ANTONIA Mrs. Melissa!
KRISTINA Difficult to say.
Purple haze: Alls I’m doin’s tryna mill about,
Fill up the china tea cups quick as y’like;
All of an out of nowhere I be happenin’
‘Pon, evesing that same phraseology.
‘Halfsies’. Couple, three-four times, eh. ‘Halfsies?
Halfsies. Halfsies? Halfsies!’ Half...Seas....J’sais pas.
It could be all of nothin’, far as we know.
Could be somethin’ nothin’, far as we know.
Wouldn’t get ones hopes up, we’re not clued in.
I Wouldn’t write it home, we’re not home-free.
 Shouldn’t have let the thought be misconstrued, eh?
Wouldn’t count one’s chickens previously.

(Pause. They share a glance.)

ANTONIA
Right, sure, perfect. There’s nothing emphatic –
KRISTINA
Nothing emphatic but that old Scouse adage:
‘Bang, Bang Maxwell’s Silver Hammer Came Down On His Head’
ANTONIA
‘Bang, Bang Maxwell’s Silver Hammer Made Sure That He Was Dead’
Fin, finito, termination station
Message ends. Can we change the subject, please?
KRISTINA
Precisely, manifestement. S’Angel Gabrielle’s
Big night at the bingo. Big night for two fat ladies.
ANTONIA
I...My existence has been validated.
KRISTINA
Go through back bathroom; see if Gabrielle’s
Sprouted wings, she’s shittin’ in the sink.
ANTONIA
Entire fuckin’ existence: tik-tik-boom
Validation station, termination.

(Beat)

Hold the phone. Hang tight. We are not clued in.

KRISTINA
N’importe quoi.
ANTONIA You clued in, hun?
KRISTINA You clued in, babe?
ANTONIA
Negatory, mistress, negatory; thou?
KRISTINA
Affirmatively not, my learned friend.
Manifestement. N’importe quoi. Alas, hun -
ANTONIA
Precision circumcision, TERMINATION! -
KRISTINA
Right!? Right on. See, ‘cos – ‘She’s Leaving Home
Bye Bye.’
ANTONIA
Fuckin, eh. Utter total birdshit
Starts fallin’ flagrantly upon one’s bonce.
KRISTINA
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans comprehension.
Its very existence in supposition.
We’s all but cravin’ just a wee taste, palm-grease.
ANTONIA
Take mosie to the R.O.M.
KRISTINA Why ever not?
ANTONIA
How ‘bout a wee small pill to down the medicine
Of judeo-christian 18th century
Or group of seven, stylistic brushstrokes
Enflame like lasers on one’s retina,
The metaphysic spirit borne in arts folks
Just to keep them out of penitentiary.
I’ll be penitent so long as I live,
So thanks I’ll take your pill and raise one better:
A wee glass bubbles, flute if you’ll forgive
That talk of Mr’s M’s ‘business’ remain most silent
Lest we upset her: Best we be compliant.

KRISTINA Thanking you.

(They take a pill each, and Kristina brings over a flute of

champagne. They sup. Silence.)

KRISTINA Sure, right – head over th’new exhibition

portraiture. Take a wee peep at Sophie Trudeau. Plop your
peepers on the ‘Queen The Free World’. Yer gonna clock it tout-
suite. Beeline. You’ll clock. See right around her, eh? Right
round back. Foreground, eh? Right in the - look who’s running
around th’ ante-chamber twenty-four Sussex. See them staffers,
jokers, workers, Ottawan clowns, Gatinese-plough-horses, Franco-
anglais fuckin’ aids, runnin’ round, playin’ at the business o’
th’game of the workin’ o’ government. Doin’ shit. Helpin’ shit.
Searchin’ shit. Advisin’ the shit outta shit – outfits, whatnot,
Instagram, I dunno, whatever: Friends, multi-cultural
colleagues, family, fuck. Sycophants, admirers, what the fuck
not; a veritable posse.
ANTONIA
Gargantuan headed cunts in mink-skin Blundstones.
Phoenix System – every bastard one.
KRISTINA BFFs of Soph Gregoire. Every filthy one o’ them.
Flies to shit: Jabberin’-on, flittin’ about, polishin’ turds,
Layin’ red-carpets, salutin’ Seraphim: Architectural extensions.
Lyin’ in wait. Lyin’ in wait for th’inevitable fall outside of
kingdom-come; call from, from from, the call from the boss who’s
saying it’s time for the fall from grace, Lucy. It’s time,
Beelzibub, it’s time, Santana, it’s tempo presto adesso
moderato, thank you please very kindly and thank you – you will
fall now and take your legions of the other fallen with you
kindly and thanking you. (Beat) The cancellation.

ANTONIA Cancellation station.

KRISTINA Cancelled, cancelled.
ANTONIA Cancellation station.
KRISTINA Canada, cancelled.
ANTONIA
Canaan’s cacophonous cancelation.
KRISTINA Never mind a promised land, never you mind all that,
Jacob, never mind, eh, bro? We’re fallen, it’s cancelled, it’s
all cancellation station, eh?
ANTONIA
Manifestly existent – otherwise,
What business got they swimmin’ in one’s peepers
On my paintin’, in my precious R.O.M?

(Beat)

Is they clued in? Do they got all the jelly,

Th’full jelly an’ nothin’ but the jelly?
They askin’ for whys, wherefores? How’s and whences?
Facts, figures, sub-clauses, ratifications:
Soph Greg awakens up one fine, crisp morning,
Supposes she’s a most healthy desire
Take back Alaska.
KRISTINA Fuckin’ eh, fuckin’ ‘bout time, eh?
ANTONIA
She’s wakened up, right, wakened all guns blazin’,
Tactics-on-mind; she consultin’ the help?
They gonna have a kumbaya round table?
Fuck that right there for a game of soldiers.
Queen The Free World, hun. I’m Soph Greg, I’m sittin’
Down; nice chunk Atlantic Smoked Salmon, couple
Two-three flutes Dom Peri, I’m getting to bethinkin’ me:
Just as the tax-payin’ monkey-pleb public pay me t’ fuckin’ do;
Bethink-me, not bethink them. There’s no use;
Fuck that pseudo-democratic horse-shit
And the zombie-ass steed she rode in on.
I’m about that meditation station.
Internal. Personal. Intellectual.
Personal. Solitary. I’m downward doggy
Mentally, I’m as zen as a fuckin’ flip-flop,
I’m a zen mistress; I’m gen-zen, an’ I’m getting’
T’bethinkin me. And so I’m bethinkin me.
And, at last, I’ve bethought me. And I bethink:
KRISTINA “Fuckin-eh, girls, pack your pads – we’re off t’annex
Alaska!”
ANTONIA Jackpot.
KRISTINA Except, I’m Soph-Greg, I know just cos I got the
largest legions in the room this particular moment in history,
I’m still needin’ the help. Everyone’s needin’ the company, at
least, bare-min. Just ‘cos I got the Tesla, folks start gassin’
on ‘bout, “Soph’s come a long way since McGill, Soph’s not the
dame what once ‘pon a herstory we knowed; mayhaps Soph’s wantin’
her distance, mayhaps Soph’s needin’ some time alone – we’re
just flies to shit, bad smell hangin’ round, spoilin’ her hygge,
draggin’ her down.” Tell you what, hun, you’re stompin’ round
Sussex, mink-skin Blunnies, Dom Peri on tap, Queen The Free
World – then, then’s when yous needin’ the posse the most.
Then’s when you’re needin’ t’hear the good’n’bad‘n’ugly.
Politics a funny old-game: one day you’re gallivantin’ the G7,
“Oh hi, Shinzo! Hey Lizzy! Alexandra, whatsup, bae? Vlad, good
to see ya, sweets!’ – next you’re Gaddaffi’d live on Insta,
noggin on a spike; poor, poor Anne Boleyn.
ANTONIA
So look, eh. It’s all a little up i’th air.
KRISTINA Up in the air only in-as-much-as, “Bang, Bang
Maxwell’s Silver Hammer Came Down On His Head’
ANTONIA “Bang, Bang Maxwell’s Silver Hammer Made Sure That He
Was D-”
KRISTINA How’s Joan? Oh she’s awakened feelin’ quizzical –
supposed she might do well to study metaphysical science, work
from home. What’s the hour? Oh it’s gone 10 – late at night –
hand us a test-tube? Oh ho ho ho ho. Would you look at that?
That silver hammer’s only gone an’ come down almost as if from
nowhere onto his noggin. Perfect. Perfection. Fin. Fini.
Termination station. Message ends.
ANTONIA
End o’th’ rainbow – dancin’ like a leprechaun.
KRISTINA Swimmin’ through the nimbly tepid atmosphere with
water wings and only a tiny Irish cunt for travellin’ companion.
ANOTONIA
“I beg your pardon, ma’am – but are you going
T’ Scarborough Fair?” Parsley, sage, rosemary,
Time, time, time, time, time, time gentlewomen, Time:
Capital T, Time, character; smoked all the sage,
Awakened by Bottom the Mechanician
That phat, old, jigglin’, cellulite Ass for noggin.
Cheeks slightly akimbo: Farts for phrases.
KRISTINA
Get tongue in there, coax out th’ kingdom secrets.
 She’s got them corn-rows.
ANTONIA Bottom?
KRISTINA Mrs. Melissa
Got them corn-rows.
ANTONIA Classic.
KRISTINA She’s done away
With the bandana! Strawberry-blonde corn-rows.
ANTONIA
Ne’er thought I’d see the day, not in this lifetime.
Never did I think that I would see the day -
KRISTINA
Hun, babe, hun. The Heels. The cunt-sucking, John Fluevog
Heels adornin’ th’dame’s teenie tootsies.
ANTONIA Moose. Made here in Canada.
KRISTINA Toddler moose.
Toddler, made-in-Canada-moose skin Johnny
Fuckin’ Fluvogs.
ANTONIA Toddler-moose-made-in-Canada-
Hand-sown-by-Syrian-refugee-preteens.
KRISTINA
Preteen, toddler Johnny fuckin’ Fluvogs.
Preteens? There’s no evidence...?
Fuckin eh, though, who knows what, though, eh?
ANTONIA
Cute little, fair little, soft little kiddie.
Young little, baba, hardly stand on’s feet.
Bullet at the back o’th’noggin; Tesla
Zap the nervous system. Kill. Dead. Snuff’life.
Bleach, inverse, dry, tan –
KRISTINA Foetus.
ANTONIA Spot on!
Umbilical connected. Swimmin’ round i’th –
KRISTINA
Swimmin’ lengths, breadths: growin’, learnin’, livin’.
Womb.

(Beat)

Awake to the, fuckin eh, manifestement. Perfect. Precisely.

Grown to order. Off to the land of nod, flush the cunt out,
obla-di-obla-da – black’n’brown tan, spray paint, cotton pickin’
sow-it-up; line the fucker woolen fleece; couple three, four
pairs Johnny Fuckin Fluvogs. FUCKIN’ COME ON! Do I look like I
give a shit? Fuck this sideways, I’m away. Not a fan? Fuck you
and your backward ideology; do with one’s cash as one sees God-
damn fit.
ANTONIA
Me and her, see, we’ll go have a chin-wag.
KRISTINA
Naturalemente. Wait, whom?
ANTONIA Why?
KRISTINA Wait, hun.
You and Sandy gonna have a chin wag?
ANTONIA
What, reason’st thou it’s not in our mutual interest?
Alas, what am I gassin’ it’s as like
I got th’balls t’crash th’party start
Spellin’ th’wind, t’the dame o’ Dantforth common?
KRISTINA. Right on. You’re spot-on, bold of you to say so.
ANTONIA
As if I got th’balls t’crash th’party
Start waggin my phat dick about her face.
KRISTINA. Right on. You’re spot-on, bold of you to say so.
ANTONIA
I’m thinkin’: post-haste, allow the soufflé set.
Who’s the king-maker here, huh? Who was it scouted
The little Ukrainian, anyhow?
KRISTINA. Right on. You’re spot-on, proper that you to say so.
ANTONIA
One spits but honest factuality.
You go ahead, anyone, make enquiries.
Down Bathurst. Down Spadina, Louise’s place.
KRISTINA
Louise who lets the punters go full golden,
Full ticket, with the little ones full service – golden
Fuckin’ ticket.
ANTONIA
No. Well, yes. But
The immigrants only. The trafficked ones.
Barely fuckin’ human by the time they
Get there anyhow. Barely fuckin’ human
The time they leave. Louise’s good people
Good business. Mayhaps not the most upstandin’
Moral compass, but I tell you somethin’
For nothin’: I never did see a more fierce libertarian.
She’s got that son with that red F150.
Confederate flag, massive bumper sticker.
KRISTINA
Antonia, careful, are we in the know hun?
ANTONIA
I’m only messin’, playin’ silly buggers.
She’s good people, I’m sayin, massive, mad props.
KRISTINA
Antonia, I’m sayin, keep it careful.
ANTONIA
I’m over that way goin few weeks back:
On sacred business of the secret varietal.
She’s called, she’s light, the Venezuelan’s called in again –
Pandemic, epidemic blablabla,
Whatever-the-fuck. Mrs M’s gone, ‘head on over’.
I fancies a few extra loonies, toonies
Heads over. Finishin’ up with Officer Kropski –
Candidate for City Mayor no less;
Nice fat wad on him right into one’s breast pocket,
“Thanking you, Sir” – gets me t’clockin’ out
Catchin’ readies, bread’n’butter from Louise.
She’s gassin’ her on, flappin’ her gums ‘bout,
“Sorry hun, it’s couple pounds shy this time.”
I stops her right there, takes a long, hard glance
Into those silky, milky Southern blueys,
And I’m back at her, calm like, “Might I beg
Your pardon, Ms. Louise? Is it my service
That’s not as exemplary as that which you’ve come
T’expect of me based on our intimate
Working-relationship, to date?” She’s had’
A giggle, gassin’ on one of the John’s was
Highly disappointed with the Greek,
Another un-thrilled with the rhetoric,
And yet a third flat our refusin’ payment
Due to the realtor for extra room-time:
Bastard City fucking mayor, no less.
And after I’d gone extra yardage too,
Promised him my vote. Slippery cunt.
KRISTINA
Politics, eh, it’s a funny old game.
ANTONIA So I’ve turned on the motor, started revvin’
Th’old mare-power engine: “Enjoy your little
Giggle, Ms. Louise – please do, chortle away;
Not sure who’ll be gum flappin’ when I rips
Out your gizzard.”
KRISTINA Universal verbiage.
ANTONIA
She’s a touch jarred, y’see th’way her bottom
Lip starts to twitch, she’s uneasy
Knows full well what’s inevitable
I sends Georgie over. Knows full well
I’m onto her tyna pull a swiftie.
KRISTINA Sure.
ANTONIA
She’s gassin on, “You can’t seriously expect me,
Nor the house to pick up your dropped pennies, babe.”
KRISTINA
Like this is some naughty, turgid street brawl.
Like ReeperFuckinBahn, Amster-fuckin’-dam
1969 fuckin’ smelly,
Fuckin’ sweaty fuckin’ corpses on Spadina,
Fuckin’ street work. NO respect for the art.
NO appreciation for the craft. NONE.
On your own, little more than a doggo,
Little less than a man; the backward cunts.
KRISTINA
Park Hamburg, park Spadina, park the ‘Dam:
That cunt’s operatin’ on Jupiter.
ANTONIA
PLUTO! She’s gone, “You’re makin’ your own bed,
You’s gonna lie in it. Let this be lesson;
Watch your mouth, lie back and do as your’re told,
No punter wants that silver-tonguèd wit
Which follows you around like the faint whiff
Of gonorrhoea.” She’s gone, “You gotta
Move with the times, hun, you’re no spring chicken,
You’ve gotta play the game properly hun;
Think who he wants, his daughter not his nanny.”
She’s gone, “That’s where I’m winning, that’s where I’ve got
The edge…” She gasses on she’s got a couple,
Three, four imports from Paradiso Paul;
Brung ‘em in on olive oil containers
‘Cross the Pacific, sea-to-sea, whatnot.
Gassin’ on ‘bout the Fuzz turnin’ a blind eye
So long as there’s no papers...paperwork,
Passports, whatnot...Gassin’ on Mr. Mayor’s
Takin’ a cut. The whole the razmataz
Orchestrated from the upper echelons
Of highest public office. Fuck Trudeau.
KRISTINA
Don’t give a damn Vietnamese, Vulgarian,
Valerian, Victorian; wee ones,
Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen in the atrium,
Dancin’ round, servin’ th’soup, silver-service,
Who gives a proverbial, part o’th’tradition,
Expected in the craft. Put them to work
Inside the rooms? Out of the question.
Fuckin’ Americans, man, zero morals.
Zero common standards of decency.
ANTONIA Americans.
KRISTINA ‘Merica.
ANTONIA America!
KRISTINA Ammmmmmmmerrrrrrriiiiiicaaaaaaaaa! Home of the...
KRISTINA
Canine friendly next, watches’t thou this space.
ANTONIA
I’m thinkin’ she’s turning my stomach, eh?
The filthy look she’s wearin’ on her filthy face
Is turnin’ my lunch, and I’m thinkin’, right
Imma knee her right about the kidneys.
KRISTINA
Shouldda kneed her in her kidneys, hun;
Shouldda forced her pay her union dues.
ANTONIA
She’s gone, “Come back another shift the morrow,
We’ll make it up” She’s half-laughing, like, she’s gone,
“We’ll share the love – tell Mrs. Melissa
We’ll share the love – we’ll send you one o’th’new ones.”
She’s gassin’ on about diversifyin’
The portfolio of risk, some pseudo horseshite.
“Put her t’ work i’th’room, don’t, whatever Trevor;
Give her a drinks tray see how she can move,
But come back another shift the morrow
And see how she performs, eh?” She has gone,
“You’ll thank me, believe you me.” So I’m back
Tonight this time with Georgie. She’s pullin’
The wool over my peepers I’m pullin’
Out her spleen this time, out o’her neck hole.
KRISTINA. Right on. You’re spot-on, proper that you to think so.
ANTONIA
I tells her right off th’bat I’ll just sit atrium,
Just observe, fluff, blabla, usual precum
Nonsense. Georgie’s off th’back with th’ Son
Keepin’ out th’way, And as God’s my witness -
KRISTINA. Right on, yer spot-on, proper that you think o’ him.
ANTONIA
Like a Cherub from heav’n. Skin soft as snow
And smooth as sculputral alabaster.
Peepers nothing undervalued t’Madonna’s,
Mona’s; followin’, always followin’.
Gentle. Fierce. Pure. Innocent. Perfect.
A genteel flick of flaxen baby-curl,
Slight furrow of a symmetrical brow,
She cuts the tension in the room from arsehole
To breakfast-time. Not a girl. Not yet a woman.

(Pause)
 That’s the narrative. Therein lies the sequence
Of events, m’lady. Who’s complain’ now?
KRISTINA.
Hold fair, we’ve not yet spoke us of cash cost, though.
ANTONIA
What talk you of the cost, what of the value?
Fuckin’ eh, she’s gonna bring in custom.
KRISTINA
I’m right there! Louise’s wearin’ a look self-satisfied:
She’s got four, five-some these Ukrainians
T’offload, and ‘share the wealth’. I’m right in there,
“We’ll say 30% upfront capital
Additional ‘pon return of investment.
“You speakin’ for Mrs. Melissa,” she’s gone.
Don’t e’en respond: Just dead behind mine eyes.
KRISTINA
“Speak’st thou for Duchess Sandy…” what a clown.
ANTONIA
As if I’m some right mucky street urchin.
No respect. Whatever, she’s a-pushin’,
She’s a-playin’ silly buggers.
She’s a-joking round, sensin’ our game.
The merchandise lain bare, the goods on view,
I’m off to search out Georgie Porgie, “Think you
This is what Mrs. Mellissa’s gassin on’ bout
She’s talkin’ eggs in antient wicker baskets
Flow down the Nile, cross the Euphrates?
She gonna go for this, for heckin’ sake
You know her inside out, eh? I’m chopped liver, eh.”
He’s got his opinion. I, my opinion.
KRISTINA
Everybody got an opinion;
Too many opinions spoil the stew.
ANTONIA
I’m not mad, though, it’s clear one’s due what’s earned.
She’s tendered goods, I’m equipped with resource,
I’ve made the counter, she’s considerin’.
Standard match of shinney. I’ve earned this,
And fuck th’opinions, right? I’ve earned this.
KRISTINA
Couldn’t help but agree with you, hun.
Couldn’t have been a clearer transaction.
ANTONIA
The fuck have I even just said though, eh?
Wherefore’s the line? Everywhere? Why’s the line?
KRISTINA
Not omnipotent, eh, nor omnipresent.
ANTONIA
Is it privileged and entitled?
Is hunger in and of itself gluttonous?
Is thirst a highway on the way to hades?
Is pleasure pleasurable when guilt’s syamese?
These are pure and simple rewards of harvest:
Ten years o’slog an’ now’s time for an uptick;
Moses leads his lazy cunts from out the
Hellish state of mental slavery.
Only t’enslave them yet again, quite literally,
Yoked to some bullshit laws they had no choice
But to accede to, yielding humanity,
With every blow from Aaron in the wilderness.
The world is in servitude, you’re enslaved,
I’m a bond-servant, we’re lambs th’calculated,
Predestined, predetermined slaughter;
Every last one of us. Why...fuckin’...who
Wrote the regulation ordination,
Ordaining that a gal like me should waver
In my faith, of all I know and see is true,
And cause me through that forced vantage point shift,
To doubt that I should know the book at all?
Now, after years of being under, get one over,
Capitalise, forcibly take what’s due?
Fin, fini, over, over and out, perfect.
Message finna end, hun. Cancellation.

(A noise outside the room. Somebody is approaching.)

ANTONIA We are not clued in. Bang Bang, Maxwell’s Silver

Hammer...
KRISTINA Made sure that he was dead.

(Enter MARISSA in marigolds. She’s very angry, frazzled,

slapstick and frantic. She’s a character from Jacques Brel.)

MARISSA Nasty little...dirty fucking...cheap-

ass...fucking...fucking...horse fucking...

(Pause, She lights a spliff.)

KRISTINA
Hey hun, you ‘kay?
ANTONIA Yeah hun, you feelin’ kay, hun?
MARISSA Yes!

(Pause)
I’m actually getting out of here. That’s my lot, my ticket. I’m
waltzing into the room, doing a fuck me briefly tango, and I’m
not actually taking any chances, no ambiguities. I’m actually
going to speak to Eve, actually. I’m going to speak to Eve and
then I’m going to become an accountant. But First I’m going to
speak to Eve.
KRISTINA
Oh yah? What’s up hun?
ANTONIA You sure you’re okay, hun?
MARISSA So how is this fair, right? Don’t actually bullshit
me. I’m tired to the back teeth of the B.S that comes out of
this place, it’s actually tiring me to the point of...well I’m
knackered, and to top it off, I actually couldn’t care less
about the lies if the grins of salt weren’t added to literally
every word that comes out of her mouth, actually. So, how is
this fair, right? But, actually, like. But do I have B.O?

(Silence.)

So you’re onto the fact that Paradise Paulie’s number two was in
this afternoon, right? Consigliere just randomly comes in for a
casual cop, right? Casual, if you ask me, right? Well anyway,
he's actually come in for a change rather than just colleting
the drop, right, and we’re sitting and literally talking. Me and
Paradise Paulie, like, actually literally talking. Well, I say
taking; he’s going on, I’m batting my eye lids, “Oh Paulie’s
#2...yadda yadda – consigliere of Paradise no less! - laughing
at his jokes, the whole nine yards tuppence. It’s a veritable
doozie. Who literally rolls around? Sits on the puff? Actually
sitting dead close, half a metre, and she’s straight in there
with the jokes. Starts giving the whole business. The business
with the whole I’ve got B.O business. About my having B.O.
Literally, I’m not even suggesting that I should get as much
time as some, but I’ve got, what, half an hour towards the back
of the operation for networking, whatever, time to enjoy, relax,
have half, earn some keep, plan for the future, put some cash on
the street; and she ruins it for what? For fun? Starting all
over with the business the I’ve got B.O business.

(Pause)

Actually not even trying to compete, literally. MLS VS EPL,

chalk and cheese, cheddar and stilton, right? For the sake of
jumping Jehosephat, to crown off the critically shite crock of
shit-juisce; the boss lady got me on actual senatorial
janitorial duties four out of six nights, reception duty, four
out of six, minimal physical contact four out of six. “Hun,
you’re at the phones. You’re the voice of the operation, the
respectability face of the operation. You’re mature, you’ve got
gravitAss.” Figurative chimpanzee-horse-shit and actual faecal
matter. “Hun, Dr. Smith’s had a couple too many the green pills
and vommed all up The walls off the back toilet – do us a
favour, will you?” “Yeah”. “Babe, hun,” “Yeah?” “We’re running
low on Corona, pop down El Ceebs for us will you, babe, hun?”
“Yeah”. Meanwhile, the titless wonder’s IN the atrium collecting
tips for her little fucking piggy bank. By the time I get out
into the world of commonality, she’s actually still not fucking
satisfied. Selfish little child. I’m sick of it, actually. Sick
to the back teeth. Literally, four out of six I’m persona-non-
grata. I’m looking at her at the end of the night, leaning back
on the puff, giggling like she’s the God-send saviour of
womankind. Is that Emma fucking Watson started working atrium at
Mrs. Melissa’s Magical Market Bazaar? No. I shouldn’t have
thought it is. And do I actually have B.O then, or? What’s
literally the point? Is the business with the that I have B.O -
KRISTINA
Hug? Cuddle?
ANTONIA Hugs and cuddles all around.
Hun, babe, your scent’s as musky-sweet as Paltrow;
I never tasted anything more natural
In all my life. Ever heard o’pheromones?
MARISSA
You’re kind.
ANTONIA
Like a summer’s barbeque and o’erripe mulberries
MARISSA
You’re kind. I thank you. You are very kind.

(Pause)

Top of the game, twenty, twenty-one hundred

She swans around reception making out
For reasons unbeknown in her adolescent brain
She’s been shorted on room fees couple nights back.
Sits down beside me, wafting her silk gown;
Twirling of jasmine-smoke as she parades;
Little smirk behind her perfect, plump limps.
I turn to her, about to ask exactly
What it might be, this nature of inquiry,
What actually it is whom she wants help with?
Suddenly, and without warning, she full-on
Gropes my left tit, hard, painful, no play
At all. She’s looking dead in my eyes.
“You fuck with my pay again, I’ll eat your ovaries”.
 I’m struck, I’m struck, a tear, left, I’m stricken.
Makes out like she was playing, making out
It’s banter. Banter, actually.

(Pause)

It’s one thing with a John, quite another

When...well, you know; and if you don’t pray Mary
Grant you knowledge of your own unconsciousness.
Literally, it was that sort of a shift.
Why you two still hanging around anyway?
ANTONIA
I’m not.
KRISTINA We’re not.
MARISSA No Sabbath brunches planned?
You seen the boss lady and Eveie Two-Tricks?
KRISTINA
She’s away home.
MARISSA Mrs. Melissa or Eve or both, actually?
ANTONIA
I never met her. She don’t show her face.
KRISTINA
She’s away home. Eve’s still got one job more.
MARISSA Okay, fair enough. You two just sitting up her talking,
that’s fair enough. Okay, who’s she going in with?
KRISTINA Louise’s boy, Georgie’s old comrade-at-arms.
ANTONIA Kristina. Maxwell (Beat)
MARISSA Whom? So what about this brunch later then?
ANTONIA
Unsure.
KRISTINA On verra.
ANTONIA We’ll see.
KRISTINA On verra.
ANTONIA
Hun: Head over see Jasmine, eh, the tea house?
Collect us all a medium light tapioca.
Bring ‘em round the atrium, we’ll all have
A sip and then we’ll talk a brunch. On me.
MARISSA I know my duty. I really cannot take much more of this
life, actually. Like, actually, I’m pretty much pretty through
with the whole thing. Bubble tea times three, that’s me!
KRISTINA
Poetic! You’re a poet and you know it, Ms. Braxton!
MARISSA Poetry as Shakey as my resolve; I carry on in this
vein I’m going to do myself - or somebody around me - some
serious, HogTown mischief. I’ve got another little boy to think
about now. Another wee mouth to feed.
(Pause)

ANTONIA
Hie thee, gentle hun, to Jasmine’s Tea House;
Head round the atrium, we’ll talk a seven,
Eight-nine course brunch, replete with Cristal,
Freshly squeezed OJ, Finest Lock Fyne Smoked Salmon...

MARISSA What a shift. Them’s the breaks. Oh, and I’ve been
coughing blood.

KRISTINA/ANTONIA It’s that dank, Government Sativa.

Black out. Music swell.

Scene 2

A large room with a king-sized bed, modelled in the same style

as the space in Scene 1. MARISSA is handcuffed to the bed
wearing only her underwear. IVANKA wearing only a pencil skirt
and fishnet stockings has a knife in her hand and is yelling in
Ukrainian that it’s MARISSA’S time to die: the result of a some
manipulative interplay by IVANKA during the intermission. The
other women appeal to IVANKA to stop. There is much commotion.
They eventually wrestle IVANKA to the ground and take the knife
from her. Then, in the continual scuffle, they see Georgie in
the doorway. Lots of music, then almost out of nowhere the
tension’s cut:

KRISTINA Oh hai, Georgie.

MARISSA
Georgie. Mother o’ God, sweet mother Mary.
ANTONIA
Here he is, here’s our handsome saviour.
The prodigal returned t’restore order.

(He opens the blinds, it’s early-evening.)

ANTONIA
O how stinkin’ hot amiss today was, eh?
We’re sittin’ there sippin’ the flutes Dom Peri
I swears it’s lookin’ like thirty-five over!
We’re gonna get our kip this evenin, eh?
Shabbat shalom, let’s hear it for the Saviour.
KRISTINA
Oh ya, you’re spot on, hun. Georgie, George sweetie,
 I’m there tryna give good counsel, really I am,
She’s just lookin’ at me blank-faced though,
Like joker-faced, more Ledger than Phoenix
But you’re the only one to whom she lists.

(Georgie just stands there.)

ANTONIA
You still under the weather, Georgie porgie?
Want a Strepsil, or...Fisherman’s friend, or...Halls...(!)...
KRISTINA
Georgie, sweetie, how you feelin’, eh, George?
Still shakin’ off the virus, or you firin’
All cylinders, systems-go sweetie?
Not lookin’ so peaky today, eh, Georgie.
ANTONIA
Echinacea Golden, Silver Seal,
Couple, three-four sips Chicken-Schmaltz Noodle,
Fannie’s yer aunt whilst uncle Bob’s out fishin’ rainbow
trout.
GEORGE Do you think this sort of behaviour is appropriate?
KRISTINA
Right on, it’s worse that what it seems though, eh?
ANTONIA
Seems tragic, but mostly it’s just jokes, Georgie?
KRISTINA
Oh George, you fully missed out on a Brunch!
Shoulda been there sweetie, had a time.
All the Christmas mornin’s come together;
Fairmont all done up: Celeb’ty nuptials,
Bar mitzvah, bat mitzvah celebrations.
ANTONIA
Platinum Jubilee.
KRISTINA The Platty Joobs!
ANTONIA
Single descriptor: Bunting.
KRISTINA
If there’s only one single descriptor
To use to describe it I’m gonna utter’t
Now; I’m not gonna lie t’salready just now
Been uttered right just now: but it’s Bunting.
ANTONIA
Bunting, on-top of bunting atop bunting.
Bunting on the doorframes, ‘hind the bar.
Bunting blending into the architecture.
KRISTINA
Twas like th’entire Family Royale
 Took up residence, Betsy-ross all flyin’.
ANTONIA
So I gets to bethinkin’ me, right? Don’t I?
I gets to bethinkin’ me, an’ I’m there
Bethinkin’ and I’ve bethunk, right,
I bethink, “Hun”…”British themed jubilee party
At Mrs. Melissa’s Magical Market!”
We’re sittin’ in there, aren’t we girls, we’re sittin’
And thinkin’, Fairmont Royal York, bunting
The lot, the tops, fuckin’ notalgia,
Regality, reverence, Windsor overload,
‘PIP PIP CHEERIO, OH HO HO MI LADDIO!’
The think just takes up root, engenders in me.
You brings it up first, you’re over there gassin’
On like, “For England Harry and St George!”
She’s there like bringin’ in St George, and Georgie,
I’m just like – no if you say it’s not you
Bringin’ in St Georgie, my noggin ‘splodes,
Cos clearly you gassin’ on ‘bout St George
I’m over here like, Georgie’s gonna shit
When he hears ‘bout this aristo-revelation.
The mother country out in our back-yard.
KRISTINE
Georgie, hey, sweetie. George, Georgie, look eh –
Just a passin’ fancy...flight of passion...
ANTONIA
Sure, right on. Passin’ passions. Flights-o’-fancy.
Strange, passin’ strange, yet fanciful methinks.
Nevertheless, there’s genuine bone-fide
Solid gold buttresses of division
Settin’ us apart from Louse and them.
We’ve got somethin’ special; we’re thoroughbred;
We pure-blooded, no mud, we’re God’s own sisters.
We’re Canadians.
They’ve said, “We wants extra” we gives-em extra.
They’ve gone they wants the world, it’s on a platter.
They’ve said augment, we’ve said you’ve neither the capital
Nor the wherewithal to deliver.
They say, ‘Exclusionary’, we say, ‘Right Divine.’
We say ‘Meritocracy’, they say ‘Loyalty.’
So I’m bethinking me an’ I’ve bethunk,
Couple, three-four rolls velvet wallpaper,
Sexy little union-jack teeshirts,
Take the beers outta the fridge, we’re fuckin’
Uniquely Grand Bretagne, huns. G’won Georgie,
Speak to Mrs. Melissa, Eve and them,
Speak to her George; you command th’respect
 With Eve and them, g’won make her let us have a
Themed weekend; celebrate the Platty Joobz
The way Lizzy wants us to on her birthday.
MARISSA
A slurry-trough of never-ending merriment.
KRISTINA
“Could I offer sir a Roast Beef, Yorkshire
Pudding Canapé, bread sauce ‘n’ gravy?
Cod fish’n’chips or haddock, chunky saveloy,
Peas puddin’ on the side I’m gettin’ stuffed!”
ANTONIA
Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding? Fuckin, eh!
KRISTINA
Find some o’ them -precisely- find some them
William and Kate masks, party. It’d be...
Georgie, what are you thinkin’ there, sweetie.
It’s just a passin’ fancy, flight of passion.
MARISSA Roast beef and Yorkshire...
Can we just maybe concentrate a moment please.
Whilst you’re all off at Xanadu, I think
It might be pertinent to remember
The current fucking situation
With the handcuffing and Miss I Can Do
What I Want, When I Want, Teenie Bopper Cunt.
ANTONIA
Right eh, chill eagle; contain that fit of fury.
C’mon, we all know whence the saucy fountain
From the which this current springs.
The whys the wherefores.
I mean, we’re doin’ th’brunch, and we’re givin’ ‘er;
Solid brunch, no objections, eh?
All ready for a little mosie back,
Couple thirty-fourty winks, shut eye
Back here before Sabbath – day of rest.
Domingo. Sabato, Friday, nonetheless,
One brunch goer seems to reckon party’s
Just gettin’ started – no names, no names mentioned –
No need for kip, kip when we’re pushin’ daisies.
Time for a few more drinkies, couple two,
Three pills, few more drinkies. Laughs rollin’ like punches,
We’re havin’ a right old time, eh Georgie.
MARISSA Massive error of judgment.
KRISTINA
The heat.
ANTONIA The drinks.
KRISTINA The heat.
MARISSA The pills.
KRISTINA It’s hot.
MARISSA
The spliffs.
KRISTINA The heat.
ANTONIA The pills.
KRISTINA It’s hot.
ANTONIA The drinks.
MARISSA A massive, gargantuan, huge error of judgement,
whatever. Holy quadrangle, whatever - drinks, spliff, heat,
pills, drinks, spliff – whatever. Error.
ANTONIA
We’re in the atrium. Smell the sweet air
Turn turgid. Rollercoaster: Wonderland;
What’s the phraseology? Ass o’er tit.
KRISTINA
A over T – the very, precise ticket.
Sticky, sweaty, makin’ images
In the noggin, heightened perceived senses,
Pills takin’ their course, and still heat.
ANTONIA
We’re, “Watermelon Sugar” one minute,
Then BOOM, Rabbie Dylan’s out to play lacrosse.
How’d you call it? Thundering halt – jittery, freight train
Slams on breaks all of the sudden suddenly.
KRISTINA
Wormy – worms crawlin’ around in a carrion death.
Wormy worms eatin’ the brain cells sorta
Sour air scent smells atmospheric scented smells.
ANTONIA
“Oh hello, Mr. Fear – It’s been a while;
Good seven days since I have had the pleasure
Of your acquaintance; how exactly might I
Be of assistance this fine mid-morning-
Evolving-quickly-into-this afternoon?”
KRISTINA
Dom Peri, Absolut, a couple tokes,
Couple, two-three pills, swift sniff something silver.
ANTONIA
Sniff sniff, upper trucker, spliff spliff, down clow:
Couple Peri, cup of the Absolut
Next think you know Lady Madonnaa’s gone
Into left field; the drunken smoocheroo.
KRISTINA
Out-of-bounds. Left field. Wallap – the old smoocheroo!
ANTONIA
God as my witness; literally couldn’t
Have spelled my own face should one wish t’have tried.
KRISTINA
We’re all there, tension subtle as a knife;
Which way’s Ivanka decidin’ to go.
ANTONIA
She pitchin’ down the line, straight shooter, whack outfield?
KRISTINA
She’s gone quiet. She’s ruddy. She’s Ben Nevis.
ANTONIA
You can see it happin’ i’th’ periphery
Through communal emotional osmosis,
Almost like, you know when you play a tune
On the old Joanna and then the Dachsund
Just sort of stops, starts lookin’ at oblivion,
Like he’s seen doggy Jehova heaven,
Something moves in the foundation of existence.
Well that.
KRISTINA
What follows, as they say, is pure herstory..
ANTONIA
Little game, the handcuffs, little teasin’
Admittedly it’s gone a little funky;
Nothin’ to splill the milk over, eh Georgie?
Couple, three-four hours pass, here we all stand.
Alive and well. Isn’t that right Ivanka?
KRISTINA
World still spins, Georgie. Ain’t that so, Marissa?
ANTONIA Which takes us right up ‘till this very moment;
Your happenin’ ‘pon us all just there,
Standin’ as we are wont, framed in the door way,
Precisely where you stand before us now.
Directly headed for th’continuous present,
With just a hint of subjunctivity.
KRISTINA
Objectively, though, not one bit subjective.
ANTONIA
There we are then: You’re clued in, Georgie.
KRISTINA
Clued-right-in.

(Silence)

I’m havin’ a cardiac arrest.

MARISSA
Chill, eagle, take it down a notc or two.
KRISTINA
How can I chill, I’m havin’ a heart attack!?
ANTONIA
Can you smell toast?
KRISTINA No.
ANTONIA Then it’s not a stroke.
KRISTINA I can’t feel my Chin.
ANTONIA Nobody can feel their chins. Have some spliff.
KRISTINA I’ve had too much, that’s what’s caused the cardiac
arrest.
ANTONIA Can you smell toast?
KRISTINA I’m starting to smell toast.
ANTONIA May well be a stroke.
MARISSA Wink in your left eye.
KRISTINA Unable.
MARISSA Lift your left arm.
KRISTINA Unable.
ANTONIA Say something that’s not unable.

(Beat)

KRISINA I’m

(Beat)

Unable!
ANTONIA Toast, wink arm; tick, tick, tick: stoke.
KRISTINA The fuck do I do?
ANTONIA Have some spliff.
KRISTINA I can’t –
ANTONIA Have a pill.
KRISTINA I can’t feel my ears.
IVANKA Nobody can feel their ears.
ANTONIA Y’wanna glass of Absolut?
KRISTINA Fuck eh. Quick.
ANTONIA Take it with a drag of spliff.
KRISTINA With a stoke though...
ANTONIA It’s the only way: take it or perish.
KRISTINA What about the coughin’ blood?
ANTONIA Perish or cough blood, your choice. Now sit down, and
chill eagle, it’s gonna be just gravy, eh.
MARISSA Georgie – when we were in the Chevvy Thursday last,
en route to Louise’s –

(KRISTINA starts breathing dramatically and then clearly).

ANTONIA HALLELUJAH – She is risen!

MARISSA Wilkommen to the land of the living.
ANTONIA Told ya it was passin’.
KRISTINA Sure, like a kidney stone. Now though, absolute total
freedom – emptiness, fullness of thought and breath;
and...everythin’.
MARISSA Your spirit’s singin’ praises to herself for the gift
of life.
KRISTINA I’m a south-bound trucker in a convoy.
Chukchukchukchuk HONK HONK WATCHOUT!
ANTONIA Among friends.
MARISSA Colleagues.
IVANKA Praises for the gift of life, hun.
KRISTINA You too!? Can I just say that I’m thrilled to exist as
part and parcel of this here party, everyone. Can I just say
that? Can I just say how thrillin’ it feels to me to be among
y’all at this moment in one’s brief, eventful narrative.
It’s...Y’know, it just...I mean...it’s good to be me. Us.
ANTONIA Perfect. Right on.
KRISTINA Woah là, perfect don’t do it justice, babe. Feelin’
close to spectacular: half, two-thirds the way to euphoric.
Georgie! Hey Georgie, sweetie, hahahaha, Georgie – when Marissa
joined us for brunch she was still covered in Dr. Smith’s vom
hahahahahaha; what a world.
IVANKA I saw that wasn’t gonna mention, though. Hahaha. The
demonic basilisk of Time, how you say, in Ukraine we spell with
capital T, it’s character - Age, yes? Motherland, motherhood. A
world in herself, you’d say? Wisdom yet at what cost? Loss of
feminine value. Un-willful forgoing of discernible feminine
allure.
MARISSA
Georgie, please. I need to talk to you about
What we had started in the Chevvy Thursday last.
And – listen, right – this has zero to do with
My current position nor predicament.
It’s for your own good. It’s for you, for us, George.
IVANKA
Prepare for Matron try and spank your cute
And peachy little bottom, eh, Georgie?
MARISSA
Spank? We use corporal punishment now?
Have we turned Ukrainians too now?
No we’re not, we’re Torontonians – ACT LIKE IT.
ANTONIA
Look, George. Hand on heart, heart on sleeve, I’ll take
The lion’s share o’th’blame here: I apologise.
Marissa’s smacked one right on Ivanka’s
Plump Cherry Bakewells, smoochy, smoochy smooch.
Not sure about consent but two to tango...
IVANKA
So I’m just gonna take that like a little bitch?
No game, no tact, no back and forth; wallop and SMACK.
MARISSA
YOU WERE GIVING ME THE SIGNALS. YOU SQUEEZED MY BREAST.
YOU FLIRTED WITH ME LIKE SCHOOL KID PATHETIC
VEILED BULLYING, I, I FELT SORRY FOR YOU.
KRISTINA
Not to throw a spanner in the works but
She kinda is a school kid.
IVANKA I’m all of 19.
ANTONIA You’re 16.
IVANKA Semantics.
ANTONIA
Tomato, potato. Irregardlessness, hun,
We’re high-time overdue apologies.
KRISTINA
Right on, time to all move on with the day, eh?

(Pause)

IVANKA
Hey, Marissa. You got the hots for me?
MARISSA
Mature. Adult. Professional, Ivanka –
IVANKA Go fuck yourself. You lookin’ me up ‘n’ down again? You
checkin’ out me pins? You got somethin’ else t’say? You enjoyin’
being much bound for me?
MARISSA You’re racoon spit – you’re an inhuman cur.
KRISTINA Hun –
IVANKA You looking (sorry Georgie,) ‘cos you’re looking at me
up ‘n’ down, creamin’ y’granny knix; that up ‘n’ down gaze doin’
fuckin’ zero f’me, yeah. You look at me those grandma peepers,
I’m Ghandi’s flip flop down there.
MARISSA
I had your Dad’s cock in my mouth before
You were a twinkle in’s eye. Fucked him raw
After you were born, your Mom stood watch;
You on her teet, watching-on warbling.
IVANKA
I think. I just think you might love me.
Are you (I feel sick) are you, like, in love with me?
MARISSA
Georgie: Bit of, some fucking arbitration?
IVANKA
Pick your games, hun. Pick very wisely.
You sure you want to go running to Daddy?
MARISSA
As aforementioned: Go fuck yourself; I’m playing shit.
ANTONIA
That’s curtains, eh, hun? C’mon all of us feelin’
A wee bit Poutine Charlie, all of us need
A solid couple, thirty-forty winks.
IVANKA
She loves me, yeah yeah yeah, she loves me yeah yeah yeah, she
loves me yeah yeah yeah yahhhhhh! Don’t look at me! Keep your
eyes on the fucking ceiling bitch – don’t look at me! She loves
me yeahhh; Don’t look at me, bitch! Mind your peepers, I said
don’t look at me!
MARISSA
Special little girl. Mommy’s special girl.
IVANKA
The ceiling. Up there, the ceiling. Look at –
MARISSA
Georgie, she’s gonna do something to me;
She’s gonna hurt –
IVANKA She loves me yeahhhhh, yeah yeah!
MARISSA George!
KRISTINA
Right on, poor guy: Turns up to work, perfect,
First on th’agenda? Conflict resolution!
And with the virus too, I’m sorry Georgie.
ANTONIA
Alexa, play some King Harold of Stylings,
George lookin’ like he’s i’th mood a wee jive.
IVANKA Harry Styles? Fuck that, I’m offski. Pleasure playing
with y’th’girls but I’m tuckered – I need me beauty rest.
MARISSA
That’s the end? Georgie. George. You perceiving this?
Tempus has flown.

(IVANKA goes to leave the room, collects her things.)

Listen listen listen.
She’s leaving, right, she’s offski, she’s looking
You up and down what she saying, right? What’s
That spell? What’s that sentence spellin’ to you, George?
Eh, Georgie? She’s gassing on, “Who’s the cock
Of the walk in this saloon?” “Who rules this roost?”
Are you even listening to us George?

GEORGE Ivanka. Got somewhere to be?

IVANKA Oh Georgie, darling. Thinkin’ I’d head over get a
quick box of Craig’s cookies for the gang, eh? Little snack
before a few o’th’winks.
(Pause)

MARISSA
Craig’s cookies. A Craig’s cookie?...The fuck is Craig?
How’s that even...I’m hearing Craig’s cookie
You know my minds going to...like, my minds
Thinking, “A Craig’s Cookie” IE Georgie,
You’re a soft little zero authority cunt,
Maybe next time I’ll tie you up stick a bunch
Craig’s Cookies up your stick a fucking pop-tart
Lindt lindor cookie up your tight little arsehole
See what you’re gonna do, you zero authority cunt.
To me, anyway. To me. That’s what that’s sayin.
To me.
GEORGE Go th’side door, leave the front door locked.
IVANKA
You saying Georgie? Perfect. Out the side door?
GEORGE Make sure it locks behind you, get the cookies, return
post-haste, tout-suite.
KRISTINA
Obla-di-obla-da swan swan swans away.
Perceive her as she waltz, watch her as she
Nay nay away. Never a surer certainty
That God is dead. I told you, Antonia.
GEORGE
Make sure the side door double-locks behind you.
IVANKA
I don’t got my bag.
GEORGE Then get your bag.
IVANKA It’s gone.
GEORGE It’s gone?
MARISSA Gone where?
IVANKA The TTC.
GEORGE Just don’t leave via the front door.
KRISTINA
You got that virus George? You feelin’ good, G?
GEORGE Am I speaking Japanese? Front. Entrance: Out-of-
bounds.
MARISSA That virus eh? Endemic. Wonder when it’s going to end.

(Exit IVANKA. MARISSA gets un-handcuffed).

ANTONIA Alpha fem performance.

KRISTINA Bat-shit loco performance.
MARISSA Utter juvenile garbage.
ANTONIA “Lookin’ her up ‘n’ down.” Utter juvenile garbage.
KRISTINA She had to keep face: you’re knee deep in garbage, you
don’t start separatin’ the recyclin’.
ANTONIA Eh Georgie: the situation with the lock doors, fast-
bind-fast-find? You hear the purse business, the TTC? Wonder how
she manages to wake up still breathin’.
KRISTINA Fair dues though, eh, Marissa, due respect hun, you’re
a bit of a douchebag, eh? She knows who you are, where you’re
comin’ from; you start standin’ ground, whatnot, she’s shittin’
her wee yoga shorts. Why you so about the givin’ her such
latitude business?
MARISSA Y’all see. She’ll bring some heavies from God knows
where, some Ukrainians, some of Louise’s heavies, we’ve got the
house takings pinched or worse. She’s got family, she’s not some
standard container teen. She’s been here a while. She’s jaded.
She’s unstable. I’m here tied to a king-size Douglas, get my tit
groped. Either sort this shit or defer, it’s high time to make a
decision, Georgie. High time.
GEORGE Charm your tongue, yes? Charm that foolish tongue.

(He closes the blinds.)

MARISSA Je suis très desolé, but, er – is that supposed to be

addressed in my direction?
GEORGE You’re all God-damn nincompoops.

(Pause)

You’re all God-damn nincompoops. When were you off for brunch?
ANTONIA
You kay, George?
GEORGE Ferme là. What went down on shift?
KRISTINA
Chill Georgie, eagle, George. Chill: everythin’
Went for a swim, a little paddle down Scarborough bluffs.
ANTONIA
Eh, Georgie, we knew this was gonna happen
We bring her in from there, the Other Place;
Bound to happen when you let a wild one
Roam free. I’ll get a handle on it, eh.
I’ll fix the future; spin it in our favour.
GEORGE To hell with you all lengthways. You nincompoops. It’s
over.
KRISTINA
Eh? George, c’mon, overreaction much?
Let’s breathe, have a couple, two-three secs to –
ANTONIA
You kay, Georgie?
GEORGE I’m kay? Am I kay?
Maxwell’s dead.

(Silence – seemingly forever.)

ANTONIA
Sorry, I think I might have I think I
Might have think maybe I misheard or that
I misheard you there, Georgie. You’re sayin’
You sure you’re kay, George?
KRISTINA You sure you’re kay, Georgie?
Somethin’ gone down or somethin’, Georgie, hun?
GEORGE
Mmhm. Mmhm, somethings gone down or something.
Yes.

(Pause)

Maxwell’s dead.

ANTONIA
Maxwell’s where? You mentioned there, Georgie,
You mentioned he’s dead, or...
GEORGE He’s dead.
OMNES
Oh Jesus. Jesus. Jesus, fucking Christ.

(Pause)

KRISTINA Georgie. Right on. Georgie, lemme pose the simplest of

questions, eh. We’re in here, ‘cos the heat and the pills and
whatnot, we’re in here and, us around this evening goin’ a
little spare rib, a little ragtime spin, the heat y’know,
spliffs and the heat and she’s spinnin’ at lightnin’, mother
fucking nature, she’s goin’ on, like turnin’ on that axis–
hahaha – and like, just tryna keep abreast and it’s like I’m
just tryna we’re hopin’ t’stay afloat on the ark and like honest
to goodness, right in this moment just now in this moment, maybe
just perhaps I’m havin’ another cardiac arrest, and maybe –
Woah. Horses held: Halt that train; somebody turned over two
pages at once. Turn back the hands of time a scene.

GEORGE There was a Snapchat.

MARISSA The video or the...the other the text the
disappearin’?
ANTONIA You sure there –
GEORGE I got the god-damn snapchat, to my phone, to my
account.
KRISTINA You never said nothin’!
GEORGE You stupid nincompoops are going lightning speed,
fourteen thousand a second –
ANTONIA Georgie –
GEORGE It’s over...You stupid little -
KRISTINA Apologies, sincerely: Apologies!
GEORGE - Kilos per hour, Jesus, fourteen billion, literally
off your tits rabbit rabbit rabbit, obla-di singing songs,
playing the goat like a group of street amateurs. I’ll have no
talking.

(Beat)
ANTONIA
You picks up the Snap, who’s doin’ the snappin’?
GEORGE She goes, “I’ve nailed him”.
MARISSA “I’ve neiled him?”.
GEORGE She goes, “I’ve nailed him,” and adds, “He’s under the
bed.”

(Pause)

KRISTINA
Yeah. Sure. Sure. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Sure; we’re
finished.
ANTONIA Christ.
MARISSA Christ Jesus.
KRISTINA She breathes she’s nailed him;
he’s under the bed, no big, under the bed.
MARISSA Who’s she?
ANTONIA Cat’s mother.
MARISSA Who the fuck is she?
GEORGE Eve.
MARISSA Christ.
ANTONIA Jesus Christ.
KRISTINA Jesus Winnowing Christ.

(Pause)

MARISSA His mother...

ANTONIA Mary?
MARISSA His fucking brothers...
KRISTINA Judas Iscariot?
MARISSA Maxwell!
ANTONIA Christ.
MARISSA Jesus Christ.
KRISTINA Sweet baby Jesus and all the orphans.
ANTONIA
I’m with you. Wait though, horse shit, wait a sec.
Let’s turn the AC high, have couple, two-three
Diaphragmatics. Bath bomb. Stay yer thoughts,
I’m gonna chat with Georgie for a sec.
KRISTINA
Hot chocolate. Timmie’s hot chocolate,
Not sure I mentioned but I’d rather like
A cocoa, a large Timmies hot chocolate.
ANTONIA
So we call the pigs we stink of shit; blue lights,
Operation over. We call Sandy,
Cheeky clean-up, bridge on the river, Kwai,
Red lights, attracts less attention, we’re
Still fuckin’ fucked but less solidly damned.
KRISTINA
Call Mrs. Melissa, cheeky clean-up.
Call the chief, cheeky clean up. Lesser o’evils.
MARISSA
How’s that the optimal solution?
KRISTINA
Fuck, eh! We don’t do pigs, I gotta, fuck
Eh, I gotta spell it out for you, hun?
ANTONIA
Georgie. George. Georgie, George. Sweetie. Georgie.
We’re just gassin’ we should make a...Georgie,
Look right, Look...Georgie. Look at me now, eh.
Look. Right? Right. George. Does Mrs. Melissa know yet?

(Pause.) *yes*

And she’s sendin’ in lifeboats, rubber dinghies?

(Pause.) *no*

MARISSA You must be loco: Mrs. Melissa’s an arms-length sort

of operation. Are you going nuts or...?
ANTONIA
Right. Right. Get onto Mr. Mayor;
Couple Lugers, whatnot until the heavies
Get in. Please, Georgie, onto Mr. Mayor!
We’re not gonna use: couple, two-three lugers,
Simple a precautionary measu-
KRISTINA
– Look...George...Georgie...Alors. Whatever, self-protection!
In the wardrobe. Whatever. Trampoline
Under the Kilimanjaro – we all bounce back.
ANTONIA
Georgie, right, look...Couple, two-three’s is all.
Not the fuckin’ Sopranos, Wire whatever.
This needn’t be a Scarface flavoured endeavour.
Couple, two-three hand-guns, under the desk,
In the wardrobe, underneath the pillows.
Add to that one with the cash register,
We’re golden ‘till the clean-up squad get in
From Montréal.
MARISSA We end up using anything
We’re Karla Homolka.
KRISTINA Karly Homolka;
You’re Paul, Georgie, you’re Paul we use anything,
We’re makin’ this worse waiting for the heavies
From Montréal. Little protection,
Little prophylactic: Louise and them
Find out the kid’s gone, they come over this way,
What we gonna...where we gonna? Little
Prophylactic ‘till the heavies.
Just scarin’ ‘em, just warnin’ ‘em in case.
ANTONIA
Warn ‘em, like “We got nothin’ to do with nothin”.
We know nothin, business as usual;
Never seen the kid, we never seen him.”
Any Louise or them call, text, insta,
Snap whatnot, “We never seen nothin’, we
Don’t know the kid”.
KRISTINA Far as we’re concerned, Eve’s
Actin’ free agent.

(Pause. ANTONIA and KRISTINA share an awkward glance.)

MARISSA We’re all going to die. Fuck me kindly, we’re all

going die, aren’t we? What the fuck was Eve thinking? Where even
is she, we’re all going die aren’t we, we’re all for the chop!
ANTONIA Hun. Hun. Hun. Hun. Babe.
Hun. Hun. Hun, chill eagle, babe. Have a couple,
Two-three winks, thirty-forty, wee rest; few
From the diaphragm, circular breathing.
MARISSA All good.
ANTONIA Diaphragm.
MARISSA All good. I’m already dead.
KRISTINA
So, right, and look Georgie, hear me out, sweetie;
Yeah, look Georgie: questions. And questions
Are good, right, ‘cos we do not know the answer
‘Till one asks them, and so look it’s fairly,
Just don’t take this the wrong, but...Georgie:
You personally checked? You absolutely certain?
GEORGE Certain about?
KRISTINA J’sais pas. I Dunno, right?
The big capital lettered T playin’
Havoc with one’s standard perception.
She ticks on, seconds turn to minutes turn
To hollow, empty pictures, so like; dunno,
J’sais pas, but I guess you certain the kid’s
Physically dead? Bodily snuffed out?
ANTONIA
Solid Q. Frighteningly solid Q,
Ashamed one ne’er bethunk t’pose it oneself.
KRISTINA
As Q’s go, it’s a Q, eh, Georgie, eh, sweetie?
You physically checked yourself the kid’s
Personally, physically perished?
ANTONIA
Perfect question. Mine would be the same, George.
The same or similar question. You certain?
MARISSA Seconded.
KRISITINA Motion carried; that’s the only question
right at this moment really, eh, Georgie?
GEORGE
Under the bed.

(Pause)

ANTONIA Which bed?

GEORGE The bed.
KRISTINA Which bed.
GEORGE
Red room.
ANTONIA Oh THE bed.
GEORGE The bed.
MARISSA Blood?
GEORGE Blue face.
MARISSA
Blue?
GEORGE Plastic Bag.
ANTONIA Choked?
GEORGE Air.
GEORGE Erect.
KRISTINA What?
GEORGE Rock hard after
the lungs gave up the ghost. She had his piece in her left hand,
took the snap, sent me the video the moment he went. Lights went
out, soldier stayed standing. She’s pumping, pumping, CPR,
heart’s stopped pumping, she keeps pumping, she wants the prize,
she’s pumping and his blood’s stopped swimming. No prize. She
stops. She’s off. Sends the snap, “I’ve nailed him” and then,
“He’s under the bed”.

(Silence)

ANTONIA
Thou jester! Thou playful, jocund jester!
KRISTINA
You’re a jester, Georgie, you’re a veritable
Circus of sun! Mid-afternoon, Sabbath
Style jests, eh Georgie?
KRISTINA Under the bed.
MARISSA Under the bed she said and so it was. In the beginning
was the word and the word was with Eve. She’s gassin’ on, “I’ve
nailed him” you’re investigating under the bed. Under the bed,
eh; under the pissing bed.

(Beat)

KRISTINA
Right so...and hear me out here, I’m just wantin’
To, for my head alone, satiation o’thought
Alone, right: But, look eh; please, Georgie...
Is it emphatically irrefutable
That he’s shuffled off of this morbid coil?
Hundo P, gold medal passed the fuck
Right away livin’ with Mother Mary
And the Orpheans at eternal Michaelmas?
ANTONIA
You heard the man, Kristina! His noggin’s navy!
He’s under the bed and his noggin is Navy.
There is no breath, his heart has stopped and his
Noggin is navy. The rose has been plucked,
There’s no vital growth. His noggin is navy.
Emphatic. Navy noggin. He perished
Due to the fact that Eve wrapped said noggin
In a plastic bag, jacked him off to within
An inch of his life, then, giving the quality
 Of service the girls of Mrs. Melissa’s establishment
Are famed for, she went the extra inch. Cowardly Custard.
KRISTINA
Good, perfect. We’re all clued in now then, eh?
We’ve got the story straight, we’re all Cowardly Custards,
Were all in this together, all in the show,
Players on the stage strutting our funky,
Funky stuff, white boy; see, Georgie...we’re all
In the know now, thanks to you. Clued in, eh?
Might we, then, may we call a wee halt,
Semi-hiatus on the histrionics
Dame Maggie Smith dramatics all around?
MARISSA
Gordie fucking Howe and fuck a puck.
ANTONIA
Creepin’ Christ: Sexual asphyxiation.
MARISSA Feel for the kid.
ANTONIA Didn’t know whether he was cummin’ or goin’.
MARISSA Feel for the kid.
KRISTINA Is that a joke?
MARISSA Seriously, feel for the kid. What a way out.
ANTONIA Under the bed...
MARISSA Feel for the kid.
KRISTINA Huge disaster…
MARISSA Feel for the kid.
ANTONIA Feel for Eve.
MARISSA That’s what I said.
KRISTINA Shambolic nonsense.
MARISSA Feel for the kid.
ANTONIA
Georgie, you kay?
KRISTINA Yeah, are you okay, Georgie, hun?
GEORGE Fine.
ANTONIA
Where’s the spliff? Someone roll spliff for Georgie.
KRISTINA
Some spliff and a large Timmie’s hot chocolate.
MARISSA Georgie –
GEORGE No weed.
ANTONIA
We’ll need some marigolds, bleach and extra strength strong
Garbage bags. Alexa, play Jagged Little
Pill Alanis Morissette.
KRISTINA Sure, right on;
Have ourselves a wee nineties disco
Till the heavies arrive from Montréal!
ANTONIA
Fucked if I know, I’m not somebody’s Mom.
KRISTINA
Suffering Christ riding a penny farthing!
ANTONIA
Get to fuck! I am not a mother.
I am not Marissa, I look like Marissa?
MARISSA Georgie. I’m not entirely sure if you’re taking all of
this in, are you? So, to me, at least, and hear me out, it looks
a little bit like we’ve got – in the very least – some minor-
prophet shenanigans want taking care of. Wanting immediate
attention. A little bit of a shambles, a lot a bit of a
shambles. An omnishambles.
KRISTINA
Hang tight, just a sec, omnes: New question;
And it is a question, right. My question be this:
Where to exactly’s Eve? Where is she to?
MARISSA
Fuck her and the fat fufu she slid out of.
KRSISTINA Georgie –
MARISSA
NO! Excusez-moi Georgie. Alors,
Most kindly and with due respect, eh, George.
Fuck. That. Crazy. Mare. She’s dropped us in it.
And Where is she?
KRISTINA Georgie –
MARISSA Where’s Eve?
ANTONIA Fucked off, scarpered, hiding.
MARISSA Would be my only question.
GEORGE Where do you think Eve has gone?
ANTONIA Me? Couldn’t for the life of me say; I look like my
sisters’ keeper? Who died and made me Pharoah?
GEORGE In my absence...
ANTONIA She’s done with her shift, minglin’ around the atrium,
bag around the Maxwell’s noggin, she headed out, home, I dunno?
Who am I, Murder she wrote? Hercule fuckin’ Suchet? I dunno.
MARISSA Not home, too obvious.
ANTONIA Couldn’t say, dunno. You gottit, right on, she’s home
akip, most likely.
GEORGE Called the new boyfriend, called around, hide nor
hair...twelve hours.
ANTONIA Eh Georgie, though, with respect and reverence due;
you want the whole shebang, the low down, you wanna be clued in,
maybe...just like, due respect, Georgie, you shoulda been here.
I dunno, sweetie.
KRISTINA Wait a – c’mon, no. Wait the fuckin phone, hold a –
no, that ain’t the story. Georgie just was elsewhere, as is the
prerogative of the position, high office, other things to take
care of, fuckin’ – eh, Georgie was off elsewhere you was here,
we’re all here all fuckin’ standin’ around fuckin’ around,
pills, peri, spliff, brunches; so I mean, probably you should
take that back the accusations and the whatnot to Georgie, so.
GEORGE Look at me. I’m deadly serious. One, two, three, look
at me. Eve. What exact hour of the clock did she end shift? The
Maxwell kid’s in there with her – final punter of the night,
before that she’s standard shift, just moseying around the
atrium, what 1am, 2am, what?
MARISSA Early. 12.
ANTONIA Touch before Cinderella, I dunno, touch before, hair
before.
GEORGE You see Maxwell arrive?
MARISSA I for my part checked him in, 1am – did the house
fees, obla-di-obla-da, we’re playin’ hockey by 1:15.
GEORGE Okay. You all close-up shop – Maxwell’s in with Eve
for the full-service, all-night extravaganza, you all close-up
shop; you’ve got the shop closed, you head back to the back,
spliff, booze, pills, away for brunch at what? 8/9? I get the
call 9:30. All the time you’re up here, you hear nothing
untoward?
ANTONIA Untoward like how, like?
GEORGE Untoward like Eve saying she’s going to asphyxiate her
her punter. Untoward like, God knows what; argument, tiffs,
rough stuff, whatever? Who knows, Jesus knows, eh?
KRISTINA Couldn’t hear a pin drop, we’re on the Sir Harold
Stylings and friends; zoned, spaced, party-time volume decibels.
ANTONIA Georgie, you reckon the brother’s come lookin’? You
reckon the pigs get wind we try and move him ourselves?
MARISSA Fuck me, I don’t want to die, but I want go to jail
even fucking less.

(Silence. Georgie takes off his jacket and rolls his sleeves
up.)

KRISTINA
Georgie. Now I get to bethinkin’ me.
And I’ve bethunk, right. One thing I remember.
ANTONIA Hun –
KRISTINA She was in convers – (to ANTONIA) What?
ANTONIA I’d appreciate
A brief and swift chin wag with you privately
And just for a moment, and if you please.
Just a sec, eh. Just a hairline. Please, and thank you.
And by your leave, Good Goergie, by your leave, Sir
Thanks very much hun, and thank you very kindly.
MARISSA Why?
ANTONIA A chin wag.
MARISSA Why?
ANTONIA A simple gum flap.

(ANTONIA pulls KRISTINA aside.)

KRISTINA What are you…

ANTONIA Are we clued in to this, hun!?
Are you really, truly clued-right-in, hun?
I’m not sure we’re hundo P clued into this,
Are we, hun?
KRISTINA Eve’s gone, “I’ve nailed him.”
ANTONIA Bang bang Maxwell’s silver hammer’s came down on his
head. Bang bang...
KRISTINA “Nailed him” though...actually nailed!?
ANTONIA
This is the maybe this is part of the
I dunno but could maybe could this still
All be part of the whole. Picketh thou up
What putteth I down?
GEORGE Are you playing jesters and I don’t know about it? Are
You playing jesters behind my back?
ANTONIA Hun, hun, babe, hun, Look;
Word to the wise, and believe me, th’sentiment
Is meant entirely in our mutual interest,
But word to the wise eh, right, please just keep
The fuck shtum. Mum. Keep shtum, don’t say a thing.
GEORGE Open your mouth, now, Kristina. Open your mouth if you
know anything at all.
KRISTINA
Well...

(Beat)

It’s just...perhaps maybe Mrs. Melissa was in the building,

maybe. Mrs. Melissa might well have been here. Like as a
possibility or not.
GEORGE Into my peepers, again, but into my peepers.
KRISTINA Georgie –
GEORGE Ferme la bouche, je dis ferme là!
ANTONIA Thing is right how was we to know you wasn’t clued in?
GEORGE With your own eyes, you spied and clocked her here,
Mrs. Melissa?
ANTONIA Not is as many words.
GEORGE Woah – just. Back-up. The fuck does that even – as
many as how many? As few as whom?
ANTONIA Kristina’s the actual eyeball witness.

(Pause.)

KRISTINA
So. So. So. Right. I got explanations
You wanna hear don’t wanna hear up the
Ying-yang, Georgie, honest, it’s a broad,
Fat, chunky ying-yang smelling I cannot promise
You of ylang ylang, you don’t wanna
Hear none of that maybe you wanna hear
Something’ else: How’s about affordin’ me
Like couple twenty, thirty seconds explain
The whole miscalculation proper Queen’s
English, serious sound, second language,
Truth and all that, là? Ça va? Ça va.
Perfect, so. So. So. So. Right. You’re the boss, right?
And you don’t need to, right, like, you don’t wanna
Be gettin’ angry or upset, you feelin’ not clued in
Understandable to me to the likes
To the likes of me, you thinkin’ somethin’s
Known, somethin’s maybe she didn’t know nothin’
Sandy’s here what’s going on, seems like a conflation
In terms; irregardlesness you’re not here
About that Jekyl/Hyde mentality,
Right? You’re a soldier, you’re professional,
Right? So here’s the thing, k, Georgie, sweetie:
Look, right, here’s the thing: What Antonia
Just told you right there, right, I’m not gonna
Say it’s an all-out lie...but...I mean...there’s
Not a shred of truth to any iota of it.
MARISSA Hun.
GEORGE Where to’s this going?
KRISTINA Wait. Wait. Wait. Georgie, right, just wait. Look.
This is my Liutenant, this is my right hand, and by that self-
same appendage I swear just now, right, Georgie, there was a
woman. I can almost certainly say it wasn’t Mrs. Melissa.
There’s no way knowin’ it was actually her. No way at – excuser
moi – no way of knowin’ at all Georgie. Voices were heard, names
tossed about – the actualities of whys, wherefores, whos,
what’s, when’s, whence shows – fuck, zilch. No truth. Post
truth. Some woman named Melissa. Yes. Granted. Some woman named
Melissa. Could be fuckin’ anyone, fuckin’ – I dunno who Eve
brings round here, I dunno who the real Mrs. Melissa got workin’
behind the scenes. Literally could be any Melissa, eh? Might
just as well be Melissa McCarthy. Melissa Elridge. Mel C off of
the Spice Girls.
(Beat)

Mel B off of the Spice Girls.

(Beat)

Just pardon my fuckin’ French just a little moment here though,

but how the how am I supposed to know what Mrs. Melissa looks
like literally never in my life seen her you told me yourself,
eh Geogie, she’s been arms-length for a good couple, three-four
years; even if I did see her once maybe, maybe, MAYBE, in
passin’ I’m fuckin coked up, pilled up, spliffed up, drownin’ in
Dom Peri, the fuck should I – Random Saturday shift, lads in,
girls out, house of thirty, big rooms, party-time, pigs, Big
John, Paradise Paul, Justin, Mel C in one minute, Sporty Spice
workin’ the late shift next moment, I’m there pilled, open my
legs, get it done, collect the two hundred, pass go, do not go
directly to jail, O free parkin’! Think I will, what extras?
Depends how pilled I am? Ass play? Extra two fifty – baby spice
workin’ the atrium now, hello governor general. Fuckin eh, hun.
FUCKIN EH! How can I possibly be a realiable witness to the
light?
MARISSA Inconceivable.
KRISTINA You put a luger back of my temple, water board
whatnot, I could not, should not, will not say hundo P it was
Mrs. Melissa. How could I? Invisible woman far as I’m concerned.
Never knowingly clapped eyes.
GEORGE What she look like?
KRISTINA Average. Run-the-mill.
GEORGE Kristina, what she look like?
KRISTINA Never seen her.
GEORGE Clothing?
KRISTINA Standard. Top. Bottoms. Off-the-rack. The Bay. Woman.
MARISSA Sure, but hun, the noo we’re doon river...the
halfsies...
KRISTINA You pipin’ up again, Sister? You got some more you
wanna...so, what now now you got another revela – sorry – you
got another dish you wanna bring to the pot luck? Sorry, I’m
sorry – shut the front door! What’s for dessert? What’s the
appy? What, you got a sweet tooth?
ANTONIA Just...The ‘Hafsies’.
KRISTINA Fuckin’ Greek. Gujarati.

(Beat)

Tumbuktu.
ANTONIA Alls I’m tryna clue in’s about the that they were
sayin’ you said about the “Halfsies”.
KRISTINA Arabic. Arameic. Not a word of the kind came out of
this breather.
ANTONIA Sorry, hun. Just, I just was rememberin’, probably,
possible wrong, but thought I was rememberin’ right that’s what
you did say actually.
KRISTINA Actually, now you jog my memory, actually haha yeah,
what I did say was that, haha, now the joggin’ of the memory, I
remember that I was bethinkin’ me that I bethunk they may -
conditional tense, subjunctive mood – may have glossed somethin’
or other “halfsies” somethin’ whatnot. Chalk it down to over-
fatigue, mind racin’. I’m in here what six, seven, eight nights
the week, I get bit fatigued, bit excitable, start seein’
things, hearin’...them pills eh...not my bag the mechanics of
the operation, not that level, high-level shit, just not my bag
keepin’ tabs the comin’s goins’ – I’m in there, red room, green
room, atrium, chewin’ loads, keepin’ the noggin at grindstone,
savin’ th’pennies rainy day.
MARISSA Hun –
KRISTINA My – this is important, no this is the this is the
important thing here this is the...hang on - my purpose is as
aforementioned. Happy in this. Contented. Sometimes I’ll hear a
little gossip Big John, Paradise Paul whatever, Officer Kropkie,
who knows – I’ll divulge, play a round o’hijinx, stir the pot,
whatnot. Does that make me Ted Rogers?
GEORGE.
Kristina. Look at me. Look at me, right.
Look at me now. I’m going to ask you this
Once and once only. Did she have Bleached Cornrows?

(Pause.)

MARISSA Shit a dick. Gordie fuckin Howe, shit a dick. We’re

finished.
GEORGE The front door locked?
ANTONIA Sweet sucklin’ saviour Jesus.
GEORGE
She’s gone and dropped us in the proverbial.
Mrs. Melissa Sanders has dropped
Us in the proverbial. She’s taken
Out the kid and left us to clean up the shit.
MARISSA Why?
GEORGE
She’s in with Paradiso Paul. She’s taken Eve,
Few of the big hitters and gone in with
 Paradiso Paul, new place down Markham way.
She’s burned us, she knows they’ll burn us to the ground,
They’ll think it was us what did the kid.
MARISSA What?
GEORGE And these clowns knew something was on. Are you in on
it too? Have you been offered a golden ticket to the Markham
promised land, ladies?
ANTONIA They see me, they see you, they see us, we’re the
face. It’s our operation. That’s arm’s length. We’re a team,
just a little head-ups; we’ve all been taken for brunch here.
Empty promises, slights of hand.
MARISSA Fuck me backwards, they’re probably already en-route.
KRISTINA She’ll send the...we’ve been...Paradiso Paul?
ANTONIA Markham.
OMNES Burned.

(Enter IVANKA)

IVANKA So I got Kit-Kat, Snickers, Plain, White Chocolate &

Macademia Nut; and a chunky one litre jug of organic Kawartha,
full-fat for Mammie.

Fin