OLD FRIENDS A One Act Play by Guy R. Newsham (c) 1992 The Cast DAVID - Age: 34, English, a librarian, and looks it, human. MICHAEL - Age: 34, Canadian, David's imaginary friend. CALLER - Salvation Army Captain, human & imaginary. The Set Living room and kitchen of David's apartment, provincial England. The Time A rainy and cold Saturday evening, early 90s. (As lights come on David is playing Tom Petty's "Apartment Song" loud on a small ghetto blaster, David is ironing. David is dressed drably, and is ironing drab clothes. Then there is banging from below, neighbours complaining about the noise.) DAVID: Alright, alright. A bit of music on a Saturday night, is that too much to ask? As if their kids don't run up and down the corridors screaming their heads off like no- one else lives in the building. What do they know about a bit of music on a Saturday night anyway, they never get out on a Saturday night, no, they're too busy basking in front of the television in the warm glow of family togetherness. (to floor) Saturdays are for letting your hair down! (he is continuing to iron). (folding a shirt) And it's high time I finalized my plans for the evening. (thumbs through address book, picks up phone and dials) Hello, could I speak to Tony please ... really? you sound so different on the phone, people so often do don't they? ... Oh, it's David ... David Garston ... yes, that David ... I bought a settee from you, remember? Never given me a moment's trouble ... Well, we said we'd go out for a drink sometime, didn't we? So, how about tonight? I thought perhaps the Legion, they're showing some cricket videos ... Can't make it, oh, what a shame ... friends called at short notice? again? ... I know what it's like ... maybe some other time then ... You don't have any dining room chairs do ... bye. (replaces receiver). Oh well, never mind, plenty of ironing to do, no rest for the wicked. And it's nice to have a quiet Saturday night in once in a while. (motioning toward floor) They've never liked me, ever since I applied the letter of the fining laws at the library. I said "the overdue fines are 10 pence per book per week or part thereof. 8 days is one week, and one part thereof." "What difference does one day make?" he said. "Our Robert was sick Tuesday," she said, "they'd have been on time otherwise." "If you had a family of your own, you'd know what it was like," he said. "I don't make the rules," I said, "If you want to lodge a formal complaint, the appropriate address is posted on the wall next to Local History." We spent a good 15 minutes arguing over 30 pence, and then they drive off in their brand new Escort, whereas the villain here had to stand in the rain for half an hour waiting for the number 47; could've caught my death. And the books they borrow: "The complete home-maker", "Making the most of your window-box", "Is your baby a genius?" If waking the whole building up at three in the morning is a sign of genius, they've got a little Einstein down there. Why don't they just wear a neon sign saying "We're the perfect family"? But they're not, no-one's that perfect, I've heard raised voices. Don't get me wrong, I like my job. It's stress free for the most part. Apart for the rush around six with folk stopping on their way home from work, we pretty much sit around all day with our date stamps cocked. Some would find it uninspiring, but I do get to read "Trains and Locomotives" free of charge every month, and not everyone can say that. And we have our little giggles. I remember that Christmas Mavis, after a little too much white wine at the Stag's Head Christmas buffet, put out forty year old newspapers on the racks. No-one seemed to notice, in fact, Mrs. Batley-Bavard said she was pleased to see Mr. Churchill making a comeback. (pause) And they do say I'll be up for promotion just as soon as they get funds for the extension. (knock at the front door) So much for the quiet Saturday night. (opens door) CALLER: Good evening sir, would you like to buy a copy of the War Cry? All proceeds help the needy in our community. DAVID: Oh I see. Well, why not, you can never read enough can you? CALLER: No sir. And I think you'll find there's something in there for everyone (hands David the paper). DAVID: Awful night isn't it? CALLER: Yes sir. DAVID: And there's more rain forecast. The Lord's tears, my Grandmother used to say. CALLER: He must be slicing onions tonight, sir! (Caller chuckles, David responds weakly) DAVID: Oh, I see, very good. Do you have many more houses to go? CALLER: Four streets. DAVID: You must get awfully cold going door-to-door. Would you like to come in for a coffee? CALLER: Oh, no thank you sir. DAVID: It'll warm you up. And perhaps you can tell me how you got started in The Salvation Army, practise your recruiting blurb if you like. CALLER: Thanks all the same, but the sooner I get on, the sooner I can finish those four streets. DAVID: Hot chocolate? CALLER: No, I'd better be on my way, the wife'll be wondering where I am. DAVID: It's interesting you should say that, I've heard that people in The Salvation Army can only marry other people in The Salvation Army, is that right? CALLER: Good night, sir. DAVID: ... (hand raised in wave) Good night, hope you sell lots. Oh, hold on, I haven't paid yet. CALLER: (distant) You can have that one on me. DAVID: (closing door) What a strange man, the needy won't do well out of him. (Tossing War Cry on table) I'll read that later. (He holds up a shirt will a sigh) I envy him downstairs for one thing though: he's got someone else to do his ironing for him. I don't mind the cleaning, the cooking, or the washing, it's the ironing I can't stand; it'd be back to mother if it was just the ironing. Still, just a couple more shirts to go and I can put the kettle on, put my feet up and while away the hours in front of the telly. I think "Singin' in the Rain"'s on tonight, it's one of my favourites. My cousin Roger can never get 10 minutes into a good film without his wife or the kids bothering him about something. (The lights go out) Uh-oh, don't tell me that kid's found the fuse box again. I'll have to go and ... (the lights come back on again) ... oh well ... (during blackout Michael appears stage opposite, he is wearing a salad shirt, Bermuda shorts, sunglasses and sandals.) MICHAEL: So you called at last! David : (startled and frightened he grabs a broom and brandishes it) Who are you? What do you want, how did you get in here? MICHAEL: (advancing and removing sunglasses) Questions? Questions? What kind of welcome is this? DAVID: Look, take what you want. Here (takes wallet from pocket and tosses it to Michael). MICHAEL: I don't want your money. DAVID: Oh God. Just leave, and I never saw you, I swear. MICHAEL: Oh yes you have seen me, just not for a long time. Don't you recognize me? DAVID: I don't know you. MICHAEL: You don't know me? You created me for Christ's sake. It's Michael! Your imaginary friend! DAVID: Oh my God, he's crazy. MICHAEL: "Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort, as if he mocked himself, and scorned his spirit," Julius Caesar, you did it at school. DAVID: You'll never get away with this, my neighbours can hear everything (he stamps on the floor). They're forever telling me to turn the music down. MICHAEL: (advancing) Oh sure, you summon me, and then you claim not to know me. I'm Michael, your imaginary friend, when you were eight years old we did everything together, we were inseparable, like a boy and his dog, woof! DAVID: (startled) Get away from me. MICHAEL: I'm not too thrilled about this either you know. Come on, think, Michael, I haven't changed that much have I? (David stops threatening, but looks doubtful). You want proof? OK. Mrs. Brody, undressing for her bath, seen with your Dad's binoculars, from your attic window. (pause) The money you took from your Mom's purse to pay for water pistols? (pause) That little box you buried underneath the tree in the garden, not to be opened until the year 2000. DAVID: (suspiciously) How do you know about that, how could you possibly know about that? No-one knows about that, I was on my own when I did those things. MICHAEL: Not quite. You do know me, don't you. DAVID: Michael? (Michael nods). I must be dreaming (slaps himself in the face) wake up, wake up, this is all a bad dream. MICHAEL: You're not dreaming. DAVID: (pause) Jesus Christ. I'm thirty-four years old and my childhood imaginary friend has just appeared in my flat. I don't believe it! MICHAEL: You don't believe it?! One minute I'm on a Florida beach soaking in the rays, a pina colada in one hand, and a Cuban cigar in the other, and the next minute I'm in England, and it's bloody freezing. DAVID: Yeah, it's been raining for days, and there's more forecast. Still, it's good for the garden. MICHAEL: Oh good. DAVID: Well ... er ... listen, sit down, make yourself at home. MICHAEL: (sits) Thanks. DAVID: I was just, you know, making plans for the evening. Listen, are you sure ...? MICHAEL: Yes. DAVID: It's just that it's not every day an old friend ... appears out of nowhere is it. MICHAEL: No. DAVID: I haven't seen you in what ... twenty years. MICHAEL: Twenty five. You got anything to drink? DAVID: (bemused) I think there's some sherry in the cupboard, you're welcome to it. MICHAEL: Sherry? Alright, it's better than nothing I suppose. (David goes into the kitchen, finds the sherry and begins to pour it into a small, sherry glass). I came a long way Dave, give me a decent sized glass. DAVID: (fills a tumbler and brings it over) You know, for an imaginary friend, you look pretty real to me, are you sure ... (offers tumbler). MICHAEL: (Michael reaches out a hand, David lets go and the tumbler crashes to the floor). Oops, butterfingers! Passed right through my hand, now do you believe I'm imaginary? DAVID: Oh shit! That'll stain the carpet (goes for cloth). MICHAEL: Sorry, (stabds) but I thought you needed more convincing. DAVID: (mopping up sherry) OK, I'm convinced ... I'm convinced. MICHAEL: (taking pack of cigarettes from shirt pocket and lighting one up) I'd offer you a cigarette ... but they're imaginary too. Not as satisfying as the real thing, but way cheaper. DAVID: I don't smoke, and I don't allow smoking in my flat either. MICHAEL: You won't be able to smell it ... DAVID: Don't tell me, imaginary smoke, right? MICHAEL: Right, you're catching on. DAVID: You never used to smoke, or drink. MICHAEL: I was eight years old, you never used to shave. DAVID: And you've grown (stares up). MICHAEL: So have you, we've gotten older. But I'm basically the same fun loving guy, always ready with bat and ball (miming). DAVID: But still, you used to be a lot more like, like ... MICHAEL: Like you? DAVID: Yes. MICHAEL: That's the problem with us imaginary friends, leave us alone for a while and we ... diverge. DAVID: And your voice, what's that accent? MICHAEL: Canadian, I emigrated, so to speak. DAVID: You what? MICHAEL: My life didn't end when you dumped me you know. (sits) You may have created me, but you didn't kill me, you just forgot me, or tried to, as soon as you found someone else to play with. So I drifted into the backwaters of your consciousness, occasionally called upon to do the odd bit part in one of your dreams, but pretty much given a free rein to do what I wanted. You were about fourteen when you read a big picture book all about Canada, and it seemed like a good place to go. So I boarded the "astral plane" and rode it to that part of your mind where you'd put your images of Canada. DAVID: But you said you were in Florida. MICHAEL: We went down there for the winter. Actually, we were thinking of going further south, Brazil maybe, but you haven't read much about Brazil so there's really nothing there except coffee plantations, which are rather boring. DAVID: "We"? MICHAEL: What? DAVID: "We"? You said, "We were thinking of going further south." MICHAEL: Yeah, me and some of the other characters from your dreams: your old chemistry teacher; your aunt Phyllis; Margaret Thatcher, who's a real scream once you get a few drinks inside her; a mysterious man in a macintosh whose face you never see; and a two-headed dog. You're lucky it was only me who popped out to say "Hi". DAVID: They were in my dream last night, some of them. The man in the macintosh was walking the dog. I called to him, and when he turned 'round, the man I mean, you couldn't see his face, it was Margaret Thatcher's face instead. What does that mean I wonder? MICHAEL: You want to kill your father and sleep with your mother, that's what it usually means anyway. Could you turn the heating up, I think I'm catching a cold (he sneezes, David backs away). Oh, don't worry, you can't catch an imaginary cold ... unless you're a hypochondriac. DAVID: (turning thermostat) That any better? MICHAEL: Perfect. DAVID: So ... what brings you here after all this time? MICHAEL: You were lonely, so I came. DAVID: Lonely? I wasn't lonely. MICHAEL: Yeah right. Ironing on a Saturday night, wanting to go back to your mother's, inviting the Sally Army in for coffee? if you're not lonely then you're in serious trouble. DAVID: You weren't even here when I said that, about my mother. MICHAEL: Oh, I hear everything you say. That's why you created me remember, because you needed an audience? It didn't stop just because you decided you didn't want me to be a part of your life anymore. It doesn't matter where I am, your voice is always there. Usually I can block it out, but for some reason I was listening just now, I must've had one too many pina coladas. DAVID: Well anyway, I'm not lonely. MICHAEL: If you weren't lonely I wouldn't be here, it's the law. DAVID: Not any law I've ever heard of. There must be thousands of people all over the country alone in their flats ironing away, are you telling me there are thousands of imaginary friends popping up all over the place? MICHAEL: Yes. DAVID: Well I don't believe it. MICHAEL: Whether you believe it or not, I'm here. So what do you want to do? DAVID: Do? MICHAEL: Yeah, do. DAVID: Why do we have to do anything? MICHAEL: Because I'm here. I show up, we do something together, and then I disappear. That's how it used to work, and that's how it still works. DAVID: Oh, well, er ... do you want to play chess? MICHAEL: Chess? DAVID: Yes, do you know how to play? MICHAEL: Do you? DAVID: Well, of course. MICHAEL: Then so do I. DAVID: Oh yes, sorry, I forgot. MICHAEL: Only I can't play quite as well as you, that's part of the deal, whenever we play together, I have to lose. I was always the faithful sergeant, captured and tortured by the enemy, waiting for you to rescue me and the rest of the boys. It's my raison d'etre, to make you look good. Like that team that travels with the Harlem Globetrotters. DAVID: (indignant) Well I'd beat you anyway. I practise a lot. I even play by correspondence. I'm playing someone in France at the moment, that's this game you see here. He sends me a move, and I have a week to reply. MICHAEL: Holy shit! You're still playing with imaginary friends. Chess! I remember when we were nine, you came home from school over the moon because you'd just finished top in a math test, and I thought: there goes one maladjusted nine year old. Pawn to King Four. DAVID: You think so? MICHAEL: Yes, but remember, I'm not quite as good as you. (pause) So whatever became of that nine year old anyway? DAVID: What do you mean? MICHAEL: That nine year old that was good at math, and science, and geography: you knew all the capitals. You were a clever kid, you told me you were going to be an astronaut, and marry Miss World ... DAVID: Yeah, an astronaut, I was only a kid. MICHAEL: (pointing at himself) Anything's possible. What happened to him? You were going to walk in space, and now you're putting old books on shelves. DAVID: I'm good at my job. MICHAEL: (pointing to the bookshelf) Oh, I can see that; alphabetical by author. And what happened to Miss World? Did you marry her? DAVID: No. MICHAEL: Why not? DAVID: I suppose I never met anyone who would put up with me. MICHAEL: I can believe that. DAVID: And besides I'm too busy to meet women. MICHAEL: Too busy putting books on shelves? DAVID: At least I work for a living. MICHAEL: What do you think this is, welfare? Being an imaginary friend isn't an easy job. I'm a subconscious social worker. I'm supposed to be your friend when no-one else will. And there's usually a pretty good reason why no- one else will be your friend. DAVID: Hey, I wasn't unpopular, I had lots of friends, they just didn't live that close to me, and at that age kids don't travel far to visit each other. MICHAEL: If you like. DAVID: Anyway, books are important to a lot of people. There are a lot of people out there who can't be astronauts, but books can show them what the world looks like from space. And they can show them what a ... a giraffe looks like, or how the Eiffel Tower was built, or their rights as a tenant. Even the soppiest romantic fiction brings pleasure to the old ladies who read them, and they read a lot now their husbands have died; their own bosoms haven't heaved since they crossed The Channel on a ferry. To some people books are all they have. MICHAEL: (clapping) Well said, I almost believe you. Now come on, no-one gets up in front of their careers adviser and says I want to be a librarian, what happened? DAVID: I thought you could hear everything I said. MICHAEL: And like I said, I block it out most of the time, it's what keeps me sane. Anyway, what you say is rarely the whole story. DAVID: God, you Americans are so into "therapy" aren't you? MICHAEL: I'm not American, I'm Canadian. DAVID: You want the truth, honesty, you want me to tell you how I feel? Forget it, I'm English. (silence, but David cracks first) I wasn't as good as I thought I was. Like you said, I always got to beat you, you were always telling me how good I was, and I believed you. I suppose I kept on believing you long after you left. So I didn't study as much as I should have, didn't listen to what the teachers were telling me. And when I failed it came as such a shock that I took the first clean fingernails job I could find. I thought it was about time I earned some money, though I never did work out what to spend it on. MICHAEL: So it was my fault? I was always telling you how good you were? You were putting the words into my mouth. DAVID: You wanted the truth. MICHAEL: Blaming an imaginary being for all your worldly woes, that's pathetic. DAVID: People have been doing it for years Michael, it's called religion. Thousands have died in its name, at least you've got no blood on your hands. MICHAEL: Damn straight. You were the killer, you tried to kill me off. I was all set for the sex, drugs and rock and roll of adolescence, and you dumped me. DAVID: You didn't miss much. MICHAEL: What happened to those friends you left me for anyway, do you keep in touch? DAVID: God no! That was years ago, I can barely remember their names. MICHAEL: Peter. DAVID: (thinks) Peter's a doctor now, at least he was always going to be. MICHAEL: Duncan. DAVID: Duncan went to Australia ... MICHAEL: (shivering) Lucky bugger ... DAVID: Anyway, that's what his mother told mine; Deborah comes into the library sometimes, she's got three kids now, looks terrible; Derek had a bad car accident, there was a picture of him in the paper, in a wheelchair; Diane works in advertising, you see her stuff on the telly all the time; the rest of them? I've got no idea, they're all leading ordinary lives I suppose. MICHAEL: Yeah. What did they have that I didn't? DAVID: What? MICHAEL: What did they have that I didn't? DAVID: (what a silly question) Skin and bone. They were real. MICHAEL: And that makes them better does it? DAVID: Of course it does. MICHAEL: So where are they now? DAVID: I told you, I don't remember ... MICHAEL: I mean, here you are at a time of crisis, and who is it who rushes to comfort you, them or me? (during the next few lines they advance on each other) DAVID: Maybe they can't fly the ocean at the blink of an eye. MICHAEL: Maybe they didn't want to. DAVID: You didn't want to. MICHAEL: No, but I came anyway. DAVID: (eye-to-eye now) And I am not at a time of crisis (staring Michael down). MICHAEL: What are you looking at? DAVID: I'm looking at a six foot four imaginary thirty-four year old in an ugly shirt. MICHAEL: Yeah, and you say you're not in crisis. DAVID: This is just like old times, the two of us fighting it out. Do you remember that time we did Ali vs. Frazier? (mock boxing) Floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee. (punching at Michael's head) Pow! MICHAEL: (not amused) Do I get to win this time? DAVID: (subdued) Look, there comes a time in a person's life when they don't want to win at everything, when they don't want a "Yes man" at their side. They want give and take, even a nine year old. They want to have to fight for respect, they want to give respect to others, it's part of growing up. MICHAEL: (despair) I could have been meaner. DAVID: (kindly) No, you couldn't. That wasn't your job. If you want mean there's no substitute for real people. (considers the chess game) Pawn to King Four (picks up a white pawn, moves it) Why not? (writes the move down, puts it in an envelope and seals it.) We did have some good times together didn't we. MICHAEL: (smiling) Yeah, I suppose so. (during this remembering segment, they become more and more enthusiastic, miming the actions) DAVID: Remember that time we re-enacted D-Day? MICHAEL: Yeah. DAVID: We ran onto the beach, amid a hail of bullets. (Ducks behind sofa) Kapow! Kapow! Kapow! Watch out! (drags Michael down too). MICHAEL: But no sniper was safe (raises his rifle) Kapow! Got him! DAVID: The Germans never knew what hit 'em (vaults over sofa). MICHAEL: (Following) Like a hot knife through butter. DAVID: We were in Berlin before the afternoon was out. MICHAEL: I created that diversion (lobs grenade and makes sound). DAVID: And I was inside Hitler's bunker, securing his surrender. MICHAEL: Teamwork. DAVID: Shortened the war by a year. MICHAEL: And that time we played out the World Cup final with a tennis ball in your granddad's back yard. DAVID: It was Wembley Stadium filled with a hundred thousand screaming fans. (Mimicking the crowd) England! England! MICHAEL: We beat Italy fourteen-nil. DAVID: And I scored (kicking) all fourteen. MICHAEL: I had fourteen assists (fancy backheel). DAVID: Was that when they knighted us? MICHAEL: No, that was when we saved the Queen from those Russian spies. DAVID: Oh yeah, that's right. They were going to assassinate her ... MICHAEL: And replace her with a double answering only to Moscow. DAVID: (on one knee, with pride) Sir David Garston. MICHAEL: (on knee) And Sir Michael ... (pause, stands) Well, it's been nice seeing you again, and talking over old times. But, you can't live in the past, and, to be perfectly honest, I'd rather be on the beach, if I don't get back there soon I'll go into pineapple withdrawal. DAVID: Oh, well I suppose aunt Phyllis will be worrying ... MICHAEL: Unfortunately, things aren't that easy. I was summoned here because you were lonely, and I can't leave again until you're unlonely. It's a bugger, but those are the rules. (hovering by the phone) So, who can we call? DAVID: Call? MICHAEL: Yeah, we need to get someone over here to keep you company. DAVID: You make me sound like some old relative. MICHAEL: (ironic look) Got any suggestions? DAVID: No. (mimicking) I don't want to be a burden. MICHAEL: Well, we could just pick randomly from the phone book. DAVID: "We"? I don't want to, and you can't pick it up, remember? MICHAEL: Oh yeah, that's right (David looks triumphant). I never thought of that. (David has wandered to front stage right by phone, Michael to front stage left; they look out to their respective stage corners) Silly me. (Michael mimes picking up the address book, David obliviously mirrors, picking up the actual book). DAVID: (Michael thumbing through imaginary book, David copying, thumbing pages of real book). Yes, you've got to get up pretty early in the morning to ... MICHAEL: Let's see ... Mister Grainger, who's that? DAVID: That's my dentist. MICHAEL: Well, we could get him over, he could give you a couple of fillings. It'd be company, but you wouldn't get to talk much. (David winces) No, you never did like seeing the dentist did you? (Michael thumbs, David mirrors) ... Martin Treadwell? Wait a minute, didn't we used to go to school with him? Bit of thug wasn't he? What's he doing here? DAVID: Oh, I ran into him a few months back, I suppose he was here visiting his family. He's a big shot stockbroker in London apparently, told me if I ever wanted to buy some shares, to give him a call, he had contacts. MICHAEL: (to himself) Some big shot, hustling shares to a librarian. He'd probably come over at the sniff of a sale, but he won't stay long. What we need is a woman (thumbing through book), potentially very permanent (to David) ... How about Sarah Weller? DAVID: (embarrassed) Oh, I ... MICHAEL: Come on, who is she? DAVID: I've seen her at the library a few times, I've ... stamped her card. MICHAEL: You've "stamped her card" have you? DAVID: Yeah. MICHAEL: Cute is she? Nice bod? DAVID: What's that got to do with it? MICHAEL: (incredulous) What's that got to do with it ...? (crudely) it's everything. DAVID: It may have been everything the last time you were "out", in the seventies, but it's the nineties now, things have moved on, values have changed, it's character that's important, and generosity of spirit ... MICHAEL: You mean she's ugly. DAVID: No, I do not mean she's ugly, I just mean that physical appearance is not the first thing I look for in a woman. MICHAEL: A willingness to do your ironing perhaps? Good God man, you were going to marry Miss World, what were you looking for in her, a desire to help old people? DAVID: I was eight years old when I wanted to marry Miss World Michael, and as you so astutely pointed out when you arrived, I've grown up. And for your information Sarah happens to be, amongst other things, a very attractive young woman. MICHAEL: At best, plain. DAVID: Wrong. MICHAEL: Don't believe you. DAVID: Okay, don't believe me, believe the Evening News (points to newspaper cutting on noticeboard). MICHAEL: (examines cutting) Hubba, hubba, you were right. (affected voice) "Sarah Weller, 29 (pictured) was amongst twelve nurses from the General Hospital performing their first parachute jump Friday. The sponsored jump was in aid of the General's fund to buy a kidney dialysis machine. Said Sarah: 'What a thrill, I can't wait to do it again.' These angels don't have wings, but they sure can fly!" She can drop in on me any time. And she has a generous spirit, you two have so much in common. So what do you talk about, when you "stamp her card"? DAVID: Oh, we don't really talk, that would be unprofessional. MICHAEL: Unprofessional? So how come you've got her phone number, if you haven't spoken to her? DAVID: It's in the book, her address is on her library card. MICHAEL: This library card here? (points out card also pinned to noticeboard) DAVID: Yes, she left it behind one day. MICHAEL: You know, you're not as dumb as you look. DAVID: Thanks. MICHAEL: Well, what are you waiting for? Give her a call! DAVID: What!? No! I couldn't do that! MICHAEL: Why not? DAVID: I wouldn't know what to say. MICHAEL: It'll come to you. DAVID: No it won't. MICHAEL: You just say something like (adopting David's voice) "Hello, it's David Garston, from the library. I was wondering if you'd like to go to ..." whatever. DAVID: That was my voice wasn't it? MICHAEL: Yeah, I can still do it if I have to. So, will you call her? DAVID: She'll think I'm a ... creep. MICHAEL: She'll be flattered. I know how peoples' minds work. (pause) It'll get me off your back, for good. DAVID: (sits by phone, right hand slowly reaches for phone) No! (hand snaps back). MICHAEL: (crouching behind him, at David's ear) Go on, you know you want to. How many times have you seen her in the library and wanted to say something? (David's left hand begins to reach for the phone again) Well do it now, it's as easy as picking up the phone and dialling six numbers. DAVID: Maybe some other time (hand recedes). She probably wouldn't be in on a Saturday night anyway. MICHAEL: (pause) Just think if you were burglarized one night. They're very conscientious, the Police. They'd call everyone in your address book, looking for clues. They'd call Sarah Weller and she'd say: "What am I doing in his address book? He's never called me officer, how strange that I should be there." Then they'd see that newspaper cutting on the noticeboard, and the library card, that'd set them thinking wouldn't it (David's left hand approaches phone once more). And they're certain to find those magazines under your bed. They've hung people for less. Think of the shame your poor mother would have to bear. DAVID: What could Sarah possibly see in me? (hand recedes). No point in calling her if there's no chance of success. MICHAEL: She's probably sitting by the phone right now hoping you'll call, how can you disappoint a nice girl like her? Life's too short not to go after what you really want. Take charge of your own life. Stop waiting for things to come to you, go out and get them (David's left hand approaches phone). Life's about taking chances, you can't win unless you roll the dice, and where's the thrill if there's nothing to lose? (David's hand closes on receiver). (slowing) The rest of your life starts here, it's just a phone call away, you'll wonder why you didn't do it sooner. DAVID: (picking up phone) Oh, what the Hell! MICHAEL: Attaboy! DAVID: (dialling) It's ringing. (to phone) Ah, hello ... (to Michael) answering machine. (to phone) Hello Sarah, it's David Garston here, I work at the library? I was just wondering if you'd like to go to ... er ... (to Michael) where? MICHAEL: What does she like to do? DAVID: I don't know ... she likes to parachute. MICHAEL: Do you? DAVID: Scares me to death just thinking about it. MICHAEL: Probably wouldn't make a good first date then would it. (David looks impatient) What kind of books does she take out? DAVID: Er, er, music ... classical. MICHAEL: The concert at the Town Hall next Friday night. DAVID: (to phone) ... to the concert at the Town Hall next Friday night. MICHAEL: You've got two tickets. DAVID: (to phone) I've got two tickets. Bye (putting phone down). MICHAEL: Your number? DAVID: Oh yeah. (to phone) My number is 4-7-6-4-5-1, bye, again (puts phone down). MICHAEL: And now we wait. DAVID: How did you know there was a concert at the Town Hall anyway? MICHAEL: I guessed. There always used to be. Your uncle Ray and Aunt Brenda went to them all the time, remember? DAVID: And what's this about tickets? I haven't got two tickets. MICHAEL: You will have, come Monday morning. DAVID: Nothing like starting things off with a bare-faced lie. MICHAEL: My thoughts exactly (lights cigarette). DAVID: You know, you shouldn't smoke so much. It's bad for you. MICHAEL: No it's not. I last just as long as you do, so keep taking the vitamins. (David pours himself a drink) You nervous? DAVID: (nervously) No. MICHAEL: You know, you're not that bad a catch. You've got a good steady job, you iron well ... DAVID: Qualities women are known to admire in Richard Gere. MICHAEL: Give yourself a break, you just need a little self-confidence, that's all. Okay, so you're a little on the boring side (David reacts) ... not necessarily a bad thing. You're dependable, steady, reliable ... DAVID: And probably stark raving nuts. What do you know about women anyway. MICHAEL: (ironically) At least as much as you. You're the very opposite of nuts, you're just lonely. You exude responsibility, you can be trusted ... DAVID: What will she think of me? MICHAEL: Judging by that picture, I'm sure she's more than used to getting phone calls from men. She probably has to beat them off with a stick. DAVID: Oh great! MICHAEL: Unfortunate choice of words. (pause) Now! now that I've fixed you up, you can do the same for me. DAVID: What do you mean? MICHAEL: Imagination's a wonderful thing David, it's what separates man from the animals. Your imagination brought me to life so ... DAVID: So? MICHAEL: Do I have to spell it out for you? So ... you can also bring other imaginary beings to life. I like them tall and blonde, blue eyes, and ... 38-24-36 (draws hourglass outline with hands). DAVID: Are you suggesting that I conjure up an imaginary "Playmate" for your amusement? MICHAEL: Yeah. Stockings would be good, and, er, (whispering) spike heels. DAVID: That's disgusting. MICHAEL: (sitting on sofa) Oh come on, don't pretend you don't do it all the time when you're alone here. You don't get those magazines for the interesting articles now do you (David looks sheepish). Boy, you've got a dirty mind. DAVID: Apparently. MICHAEL: So, bring forth the girl of my ... your dreams. DAVID: No. MICHAEL: Oh come on David, fair's fair. When we were kids and we'd play Knights of the Round Table or Superheroes, it was always you who got the girl, now it's my turn. After all, I set you up with a babe. DAVID: And I should never have let you talk me into it. I'll never be able to look her in the eye next time she walks in the library, never mind stamp her card. MICHAEL: The next time she walks in the library it'll be to take you to dinner ... DAVID: I'll lose my job! She'll complain to the council, harassment, taking advantage of my position. And I was up for promotion too. Oh God. MICHAEL: Just relax. DAVID: Why'd you have to come along and get me started on all this anyway? MICHAEL: All what? DAVID: This ... this, this introspection, calling strangers, this isn't me. I don't know what's real and what isn't anymore. What's happening to me? MICHAEL: You know something? I don't care, not anymore. You've got this whole pity thing - you're so lonely, so confused - but you have the power to change things, you can do anything you want to. The real shame is me, because I can't. I live up there in your head. I can only experience what you've experienced. I can travel, but only to the countries you've read about, and if you skipped a paragraph, that's a city I'll never know. All my experiences are second-hand. I want to drive fast cars, and skin dive in the Barrier Reef, and I can't because you won't. You've got me caged in there, and there's nothing I can do about it; the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. All I want now is to go back inside and lie on the beach that you once saw in a vacation guide, and never have to see you from the outside again. (lying back) Now, serve up the leggy blonde. And concentrate, because we'll probably be a while. DAVID: (scheming) I'll concentrate, but not on leggy blondes. You see, you've given me a thought. MICHAEL: Now there's a turn up. DAVID: You've probably lost me my job, the last thing I should be doing is rewarding you with some bimbo. I should be ... punishing you. MICHAEL: (sitting up) Punishing me? DAVID: Yes, if I could imagine a blonde, then I could imagine a ... a wasp. (concentrating, buzzing starts). MICHAEL: (head following wasp, backing up on sofa) David, stop this, take it away, you know I've never liked wasps. DAVID: (snaps fingers, buzzing stops) Or, what if your hair was infested with fleas? MICHAEL: What? (starts scratching at his hair) Jesus David, what are you doing? (scratching becomes more vigorous) DAVID: They might even spread to your whole body. MICHAEL: (scratching all over) Stop it, for God's sake. DAVID: You know better than to appeal to imaginary beings for help. MICHAEL: (rolling on the ground away from the sofa) Get them off me! Get them off me! DAVID: (snaps fingers, Michael stops scratching) What if I were to imagine the floor to be red hot? MICHAEL: (jumps to feet) Agh! (fast tip-toe to sofa) Ooh! Ah! (jumps up on sofa). You're sick, sick, sick, sick! What's a nice guy like me doing in a brain like yours? DAVID: Helping me exercise my imagination. MICHAEL: Well time-out David (making "T" sign with hands) time-out. DAVID: Not before the grand finale Michael. MICHAEL: (scared) The grand finale? DAVID: Yes. Let me see now ... How about a psychopathic Salvation Army Captain to tie you up and slit your throat. MICHAEL: David, you wouldn't. (pregnant pause, David concentrates, Michael is at first apprehensive, then becomes more confident as David concentrates harder and nothing happens). David, you can't! (steps off sofa, laughing). You lack the imagination (advancing on David). For all your flesh and blood (poking David in chest) you lack the imagination. No wonder you've got no "real" friends, no wonder you're alone on a Saturday ... (the Sally Army comes charging in). Agh! (He chases Michael around the room, eventually catches him, ties him up, and holds a knife to his throat). David please, call him off. You can't kill me like this, not after all we've been through together: the Normandy landings, the World Cup Final. I'm part of you, this is suicide. Do you want me to beg? OK, I'll beg, please don't do this ... (phone rings, all turn to look at phone simultaneously, Sally Army melts away as David's concentration is broken). DAVID: (picking up phone) Hello ... speaking ... Oh, Sarah ... MICHAEL: You bastard, you sadistic bastard. DAVID: Shh. (to phone) I don't know if you even know who I am, but let me start by apologizing ... you would? ... that's great! MICHAEL: Don't you Shh me. If you want to keep me quiet why don't you imagine a gag over my mouth, or can't you concentrate on two things at once? DAVID: (to phone) Just a moment Sarah, something's ... boiling over (covers mouthpiece with hand). MICHAEL: Damn right something's boiling over. Oh to think what I've got that poor girl into. I'll find some way of telling her how your mind really works. You know those things you say sometimes, you don't know why you said them, and you wish you hadn't? That's me at work. DAVID: Look, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I did, I got carried away. But you've done what you came to do. If things work out with Sarah you'll never have to see me again, you can go back to your Florida beach and retire. It's not in your best interest to screw this up for me. MICHAEL: (weighing things up) Okay, okay. DAVID: (relieved) Thank you, you're a ... a "real" friend. MICHAEL: Yeah. One last thing. DAVID: What? MICHAEL: Encyclopedia Britannica, volume three, page two hundred and twelve. (David looks puzzled) Carnival in Rio. Read it, I quite fancy Brazil. DAVID: (to phone) I didn't even know if you liked classical music ... around seven? ... Well, actually I'm between cars at the moment ... sure, if you don't mind driving. (Michael looks satisfied, and gets up to go. David is now looking away from him with a smile on his face). Yes, it will be a bit of a dash ... I know, having to cook and wash the dishes before you go out (pause) would you like to go to a restaurant before the concert? ... OK, do you know a good place ... I think so, isn't it next to the train station? ... oh, next to the hospital ... No, I haven't been there before, have you? ... you work at the hospital? ... Really, my mother was a nurse ... MICHAEL: (pauses at the chess board, points out a move for a black piece) Queen takes Pawn, Check mate! (exits stage, David is oblivious). DAVID: ... No, she gave it up when she had me ... How many years have you been nursing? ... I haven't been lending you books for that long have I? ... Oh, where did you move from? ... Me? I've lived here all my life, but I've always wanted to travel ... (black out) ver. 4.1 ver. 4.1