The lights come up gradually; everyone is sleeping except Mosquito who is holding a plastic cup. He is tapping on it a variety of rhythms, quietly. He has an empty matchbox open on the floor. He is scanning the room for a mosquito. He looks up toward the ceiling. A mosquito appears and flies into the open matchbox; Mosquito closes the matchbox and goes back to bed.
Boxman wakes up and takes out a plastic cup from his box. He places it on the floor to listen, then he moves somewhere else.
BOXMAN: The buses are here, the buses are here, on my mum’s honor the buses are here.
(Mosquito and Slap wake up. Snake carries on sleeping.)
Come here. Listen to the sound of the buses. These are the buses coming to take us. (He dances) That’s it boys. It looks like they’re about to exchange us for Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier. Come here, listen. We’re leaving, we’re going home. The letter was true. We’re going to be released this week.
(Mosquito and Slap go to listen. Mosquito puts his ear to the cup.)
MOSQUITO: God, it does sound like buses!
SLAP: Let me listen . . . I think it’s the sound of buses.
BOXMAN: Man, it’s the sound of buses.
MOSQUITO: It’s clear now, one hundred percent, it’s the sound of buses.
SLAP: Brothers, clearly and surely it’s the sound of buses.
MOSQUITO: I want to say this to you, it is definitely the sound of buses, the sound of buses arriving . . . but I also hear women.
BOXMAN: What?
MOSQUITO: Women laughing.
BOXMAN: Maybe they’re the drivers.
MOSQUITO: I tell you women, you tell me drivers!
BOXMAN: Women could be drivers, man. The world has changed. Your mind is still set to nine years ago; today everything is different.
MOSQUITO: You really think they’d use women drivers to transport inmates who’ve spent at least eight years inside? There’re guys in here that could impregnate a rock.
BOXMAN: Man, you’re so removed from reality. Give it here, I want to listen.
(Slap coughs.)
I can’t hear over your coughing Slap . . . Wait, I can hear the flashes of cameras making a tcheeck tcheeck sound.
MOSQUITO: That’s not right. Camera flash is tcheck tchook, tcheck tchook.
BOXMAN: Man, that was nine years ago. Nowadays cameras make a tcheeck tcheeck sound.
MOSQUITO: Bullshit, let me listen. (Puts his ear to the cup) There, tcheeck tchook, tcheeck tchook.
SLAP: May I? To be honest I can’t hear neither tcheeck tcheeck or tcheeck tchook . . . I hear tcheeck tchack . . . tcheeck . . . tchack . . . but there are people speaking in English.
BOXMAN: They must be working for the Red Cross. That’s it. Tonight the exchange is going to happen. They’re here to supervise the exchange, the give and take. Slap, let Mosquito listen. He speaks good English. His wife was Canadian.
MOSQUITO: And a bitch. Give it here. What’s this? Someone is saying to a girl “give me a kiss.”
BOXMAN: What does it mean?
MOSQUITO: It means give me a kiss.
BOXMAN: Maybe it’s Shalit? It’s been a long time since he’s seen his sister. He’s asking her to give him a kiss. What’s wrong with a man kissing his sister?
MOSQUITO: God give me patience . . . what a donkey you are.
SLAP: English is not my strongest language but I think “kiss” is used in a girlfriend, boyfriend situation whereas “French kiss” is used amongst family.
BOXMAN: Now you’re both experts on kissing!
MOSQUITO: Shh . . . I can hear the clanking of keys.
(Silence, they look at one another.)
SLAP: It’s happening tonight.
BOXMAN: Tonight?
MOSQUITO: Tonight.
(Mosquito opens the matchbox and looks at the mosquito inside. He then looks at Snake who is still sleeping. He goes toward his bed.)
I wish tonight never came.
BOXMAN (Angrily): What? You wish it never came?! I wish it came years ago. What are you saying? Are you mad? You don’t want to go, then don’t. Me, I’m going. I want to see Siren. Eight years, I’ve been waiting. And you say, “I wish tonight never came.” Siren’s hair must’ve turned gray with waiting by now. I want to take her and fly. I want to see life. I love life. Why the fuck did I throw that petrol bomb?
MOSQUITO: And what about Snake???
(Silence.)
BOXMAN: What about Snake?
MOSQUITO: We leave him here, all alone?
BOXMAN (In a low voice): What do you want us to do? He’s serving twelve life sentences. The man is never getting out of here. Look, if my dear old dad himself was serving life here, I’d still leave him behind. We don’t want to be tied to him. Let’s just get out of this place and forget all about it.
SNAKE (From under the covers): Like Mosquito says. I’m here for life. No blue skies for me. (To Mosquito) Go, find your daughter; she must be a grown woman by now. I’ll be here. Twelve life sentences mean twelve generations.
(Pulls the cover away, looks at all) Come on brothers, get ready. Don’t just stand there! Move it Mosquito. You too, Boxman. Hey Slap, go on, get going. What’s wrong with you? Come on, what the fuck guys? Don’t worry about me. Prison is for real men. Anyway, you’ll visit, right? Boxman, you’ll come and invite me to your wedding with Siren. Slap, you’ve got to have that operation. Come on brothers, celebrate your freedom! (He hands each man his luggage. They hold the luggage but do not move) No good-byes. I don’t like them. Come on, if you love me just go . . . (Stands aside)
SNAKE: Not another word. Good-bye.
SLAP: I . . .
SNAKE: Look after yourself.
(Boxman runs up to Snake and hugs him.)
Boxman, I want you to love Siren. Love her every day, more and more. Tickle her!
(Mosquito, Boxman and Slap line up and walk in procession. We hear the sound of the metal door opening. They dart a glance toward Snake before exiting.
Snake gets up and looks toward where they went. He then takes the plastic cup and places it on the floor to listen to what’s going on outside. He begins to sing:)
Here comes the bride, dancing for her groom.
Kicking the devil way beyond the moon.1
(At the same time, we hear Siren breathing as she runs across the cell. Snakes jumps on the bed and scans all corners of the cell. Siren begins dancing across the cell in search of Boxman. Snake keeps trying to touch her but she escapes. As this is happening, Mosquito enters slowly followed by Slap.
Mosquito and Slap begin talking with Snake.)
MOSQUITO: Outside the world is green . . . green. Even though it’s nighttime, I could see the green.
SLAP: The bus door opened and shut.
MOSQUITO: The smell of almond blossom! God, I’ve forgotten what almonds taste like.
SLAP: And the bus door opened and shut.
MOSQUITO: The air had a touch of cold . . . but it was a gentle touch.
SLAP: And the bus door opened and shut.
MOSQUITO: The mosquito shivered inside her matchbox.
SLAP: And the bus door opened and shut.
MOSQUITO: I thought she was hungry, turns out she’s cold.
SLAP: . . . Opened and shut.
MOSQUITO: A puppy yapped in the distance.
SLAP: . . . Opened and shut.
MOSQUITO: And Boxman was puffing away as if he was a nympho and the cigarettes were cocks.
(A sigh of longing is heard from Siren.)
SLAP: . . . Opened and shut . . .
MOSQUITO: Boxman never smoked before . . . I looked left and right for my daughter, couldn’t see her.
SLAP: And the bus door opened and shut . . . and the pup barked from far away.
MOSQUITO: And the bus door shut and didn’t open . . . It turns out today is their Independence Day. They’ve come to celebrate. And they wanted us to fetch wood for them. So they could start a fire and dance around it.
SLAP: I wish I could’ve seen that fire lit and danced around it also but Mosquito refused to collect the wood so we were sent back.
MOSQUITO: Man, you can’t even dance! You barely know how to walk.
SLAP: When Slap went to weddings, he’d wear a pink suit and put a flower in the breast pocket. I’d dance from the beginning till the end of the wedding. People thought I must be the groom because I was always so happy.
(We hear Boxman outside. Siren leaves.)
BOXMAN: Open the door, why you closed it? Hey shotair2 . . . hayal3 . . . open the door. Fine, no problem, I can wait outside till morning. You son of a dog, don’t pretend you can’t hear me. I’ll get you, you Ethiopian bastard. Or is the brother from Morocco? Better go and find out who your father is, could be Indian for all you know. Mosquito, man . . . come and help me out, I’m rubbish at Hebrew. You could talk to them in English . . . tell them no need for the buses to go . . . there’re only two hours left till morning. Tomorrow, they could take me to Gaza . . . and later come back to take you to the West Bank. They should sleep a little otherwise tomorrow they’ll turn up drowsy and instead of taking me to Gaza, I’ll end up in Guantanamo. Get up man. No? Fine. I just want to say, I’ve gone back to smoking and I’ll be smoking hash this time and if I can’t get hash I’ll roll up tea leaves and pretend I’m getting high.
SLAP: Tomorrow comes to those who wait.
BOXMAN: Way I see it, those who wait never see tomorrow.
(Mosquito opens the matchbox and observes the mosquito flying out.)
SLAP (Takes out a notebook and begins writing): 25th April, one o’clock at night. We heard the sound of buses. Mosquito and Boxman began to argue over camera flashes. Mosquito said they made a tcheck tcheck sound and Boxman said it was tchook tchook. I didn’t want to interfere but the boys were begging me to tell them what I thought. I refused, they begged even more. In prison, my word counts.
I screamed at Mosquito and Boxman. Enough, I said. And I slapped Mosquito so hard, sparks flew out of his eyes. Boxman fled like a cat and hid under the bed. (Silence) I stared at Snake then told him we’re leaving. The time for prisoner exchange has come. Mosquito started crying because Snake was going to be left all alone. So I slapped him again. “Prison is for men,” I said. Then I slapped Snake as he began to cry also. I shouldn’t have lost control like that, not in front of the guys, they look up to me. I am the manliest amongst them. Outside we found the buses waiting. The warden’s eyes were on me like a hawk’s. He knows how tough I am. Everyone knows the story of Slap, the secondary schoolteacher who slapped the soldier when he dared to touch one of his pupils. I slapped him, once, twice, three times . . . I slapped him till he lost consciousness . . . his buddy leapt on me and slammed down the butt of his rifle on my head. He hit me so hard, I slapped him back and I slapped him and slapped him . . . I want to slap and slap . . .
(Slap loses complete control over his mind and body. Snake goes up to him and carries him to bed. He gives him a tranquilizer pill. Mosquito and Boxman have a conversation in a low tone . . .)
MOSQUITO: He’s been writing for six years. He used to write one letter a month, now it’s one per day. I feel he’s mocking us. He’s the only one that doesn’t talk about his private life.
BOXMAN: Man, he must have close to a thousand letters hidden.
MOSQUITO: Where?
BOXMAN: Under his bed; I saw him one night sorting them out, dozens and dozens.
MOSQUITO: Slap is a devious bastard. He’s like the water of a river: on the surface, nothing but calm but underneath the current runs and runs . . . He hates my mosquito, every time I want to feed her, he starts causing trouble. Marxists are like that, love no one but themselves.
BOXMAN: You know sometimes I feel he’s a good man. Hey look what’s with Snake lately, always going to the toilet . . . back and forth . . . spends the whole night there.
MOSQUITO: Could be constipated . . . too embarrassed to talk about it.
BOXMAN: Come on, Snake embarrassed? Since when?
MOSQUITO: Sometimes I envy him.
BOXMAN: Envy him what?
MOSQUITO: He’s not waiting for anything. He knows he’ll be spending the rest of his life in prison.
BOXMAN: If I had to spend the rest of my life here, I’d kill myself. You know what I think? The minute we leave here, he’s going to hang himself.
MOSQUITO: Snake wouldn’t do that.
BOXMAN: You give him too much credit, man.
SNAKE (From the bathroom): What’s up Boxman? Everything okay with you?
BOXMAN: Everything’s cool, bro. (To Mosquito) What we said stays between us.
MOSQUITO: Don’t worry, if there’s one thing I hate in life, it’s betrayal.
BOXMAN: Because of your wife.
MOSQUITO: I don’t want to think about her.
BOXMAN: Man, if you stood up for the judge, you wouldn’t be here, waiting for the prisoner exchange. You’d be outside, waiting to greet us when we come out.
MOSQUITO: I don’t care if I have to rot in here for a hundred years, I would never stand up for that judge. They occupy us and then dare to judge us? Are you crazy, I’ll never do it.
BOXMAN: You could’ve done it for the sake of your daughter.
MOSQUITO: What daughter, man? I have no idea where her bitch of a mother has taken her.
BOXMAN: Take it easy.
MOSQUITO: No I won’t. And I’ll never stand for no judge even if I have to endure a life sentence like Snake.
SNAKE: Everything all right, Mosquito?
(Mosquito is silent.)
BOXMAN: So if they tell you unless you stand up for the judge, you won’t be going home tonight, what would you do?
SLAP: We all exaggerate.
MOSQUITO: How’s it going, Slap?
SLAP: Just dandy.
MOSQUITO: Come on boys, before you go to bed, let’s feed the mosquito. She looks hungry.
BOXMAN: Man, you haven’t fed her yet? It’s two in the morning. How could you.
MOSQUITO: Give me your finger, not the one you put out at lunch, another.
BOXMAN: I can’t remember which finger I gave you at lunch.
MOSQUITO: The middle.
BOXMAN: Fine, take the index.
MOSQUITO: Has she bitten you?
BOXMAN: Not yet.
MOSQUITO: Now?
BOXMAN: Not yet.
MOSQUITO: Now?
BOXMAN: Not yet.
MOSQUITO: Change fingers.
BOXMAN: Why?
MOSQUITO: You’ve put her off; God knows where you’ve stuck it.
BOXMAN: What? She could smell?
MOSQUITO: Of course. So where have you been putting it?
BOXMAN: Nowhere.
MOSQUITO: Liar. I’m going to ask her. (Takes the matchbox to one side and asks the mosquito inside) What? Ha ha ha. Really? . . . Ha ha ha.
BOXMAN: What’s she saying?
MOSQUITO: Shame on you. Give me another.
(Boxman puts out another finger.)
Has she bitten you?
BOXMAN: Not . . . ouch. She bit me!
MOSQUITO: Thanks . . . (Goes to Slap) Please give me your hand and be quick about it.
SLAP: Piss off you and your mosquito! I’ll slap you and slap her.
MOSQUITO: Put your hand out man and let this poor creature have her supper. (He grabs one of Slap’s fingers and puts it inside the matchbox) Did she bite you?
SLAP: No.
MOSQUITO: What about now?
SLAP: Ouch. This is the last time I’m feeding her.
MOSQUITO (Goes to Snake): Give me yours . . . She bit you?
SNAKE: She bit me.
MOSQUITO (To Snake): You never say ouch. (To the mosquito) Satisfied? You want pudding? I don’t think so, you’ve put on weight. Don’t be like that, it’s an honest observation. Look how your arse wobbles. All you mosquitoes are the same, if someone tries to tell you the truth, you get upset. Tell me, do you think Sama, my daughter, has heard about the prisoner exchange? Maybe she’s waiting outside for me. But even if she is, how will I know it’s her? I’ve never seen her in my life.
SLAP: For years, you’ve been telling the mosquito the same story. “You want pudding?,” “you’ve put on weight,” “how your arse wobbles”— find something new to talk about with her.
MOSQUITO: Something has changed. I dreamt last night she was sleeping on the bed, turning left and right, then she fell off the bed. When I picked her up, she was dead.
SLAP: It was a nightmare.
(Snake is listening all this time. Mosquito closes the matchbox. Snake goes to Mosquito.)
SNAKE: Mosquito.
MOSQUITO: Yes.
SNAKE: You . . .
MOSQUITO: What about me?
SNAKE (He wants to say something but then changes his mind): You miss your daughter?
MOSQUITO: Very much.
SNAKE: So when a man marries and has children . . . he gets closer.
MOSQUITO: Closer to what?
SNAKE: To his parents.
MOSQUITO: Sounds like you’re ready to be a dad.
SNAKE: No, not at all . . . it’s nothing . . . I was just asking.
SLAP: When a man gets older, he starts to think about these things . . . settling down . . . without even thinking, his emotions just carry him forward.
SNAKE: My emotions are dead, Slap. I don’t let myself think about these things. I know where my path is taking me . . . give us a cig, Mosquito. (He lights it) I need to take a crap . . . guys do you want to use the toilet before I go in there? I’m staying all night. Boxman, how about you?
BOXMAN: You go and enjoy yourself. I’m waiting for the bus. No time to sleep.
SNAKE: Ah, you want to wait for the bus.
(Snake takes the cigarette with him to the bathroom. The rest sleep with the exception of Boxman. Boxman goes to the door and tries to listen with the aid of the plastic cup. Then he goes and sits on his box. Meanwhile, Snake looks out of the bathroom calmly to see if everyone is asleep. He notices Boxman and hides quickly. Boxman walks slowly toward the bathroom and tries to listen to what’s going on inside. He puts his ear to the door. Suddenly, Snake reaches out and grabs him by the neck.)
SNAKE: When I was twelve, I’d spend the day catching young snakes in the valley. I’d stick them in a bucket and head east, towards the settlements. I’d hide behind a boulder and wrap the baby snakes around rocks. And when a bus came, carrying settlers, I’d chuck my snake load at it. The windows smash. The snakes uncoil and run amok between their legs. I watch the settlers run like crazy inside the bus . . . never do that again . . . I know you fear the Snake.
(A movement intermission.
Next day. The light increases. The men walk in one row to the front of the stage.)
MOSQUITO: 2002.
SNAKE: 704.
SLAP: 607.
BOXMAN: 301.
(They go back to their beds in one line. They bend in unison. Turn around on the spot. Boxman takes out the cup and puts it on the ground.)
Stop boys, I want to hear.
(Snake goes to the toilet to urinate. Mosquito goes to his bed. He releases the mosquito from inside the matchbox and follows her flight path. He then begins to put on the clothes he has set aside for his release, all the while observing the flight of the mosquito.)
MOSQUITO: Can you hear anything?
BOXMAN: No, just Snake taking a dump.
MOSQUITO: Snake, how long you’re going to take?
SNAKE: I’m nearly done. Just wiping.
MOSQUITO: Hurry up . . . we want to hear the sound of the buses.
SLAP: What do you think about this shirt, Mosquito? I love pink.
MOSQUITO: Ugly . . . Isn’t that the one you wore in court? When you stood up for that judge?
SLAP: Yes, I save it for important occasions.
MOSQUITO: And you consider standing up for the judge a happy occasion?
SLAP: Yes. Just to feel the cool breeze of the air condition in the court. It was relaxing.
BOXMAN: I can’t hear anything, just dogs barking.
SLAP: It’s too early.
BOXMAN: True, it’s early. But don’t forget the road from here to Gaza is long, and all the streets of Gaza have armed fighters . . . We want to get there before the call to evening prayer . . . I want to see Siren . . . see her face.
MOSQUITO (Observing the mosquito): If you get there at night, you’ll recognize her by her scent.
BOXMAN: All her life, she wore lovely perfumes.
(Snake sighs from the bathroom.)
SLAP: Today’s perfumes are different from yesterday’s.
SNAKE (From inside the bathroom): Even after one hundred years, her scent will be familiar to whoever smelled her first.
BOXMAN: I was sixteen the first time I caught a whiff. You know, Slap . . . the first time I saw her, I was wearing a red shirt. I had a poem prepared. I looked into her eyes and read it . . . I was just a boy . . . Here, listen to the first verse:
This way, this way, kiss.
This way, this way, bite.
This way, this way, frown.
This way, this way, tease.
SNAKE (From inside the bathroom): This way, this way . . . shut it!
BOXMAN: She was astonished. It was the first time she’d heard a poem with an internal rhyme.
SLAP: You call this silliness poetry?
BOXMAN: It came to me on the bog. (Laughs)
SNAKE: That explains it.
(They all laugh.)
BOXMAN: Huh, there’s a sound. (He uses the plastic cup to listen)
(Snake gets out of the bathroom and looks at Boxman.)
SNAKE: Boxman, come here, I want a word.
BOXMAN: What? Something happened?
SNAKE: I’ve a Marlboro ciggie; I’ve been hiding it for ages.
BOXMAN: Marlboro? O what happy day, come, come, let’s smoke it before the bus gets here.
SNAKE: We’ll smoke it in a sec. Let’s go to the corner so Slap and Mosquito won’t see us. They’ll want a puff.
BOXMAN: You’re right, come on . . . you know when I said you’ll never see the sky again, I didn’t mean it . . . light it.
SNAKE: Don’t worry about it Boxman.
BOXMAN: Light it . . . light it.
SNAKE: Missing Siren?
BOXMAN: Of course . . . do you need to ask . . . light it, light it.
SNAKE: When you saw her, you were wearing a red shirt . . . but what was she wearing?
BOXMAN: A long skirt . . . come on, light it.
SNAKE: Skirt . . . what color?
BOXMAN: Black, with burgundy embroidered down the side . . . come on . . . the bus will be here any minute.
SNAKE: And her top . . . what was it like?
BOXMAN: A flowery shirt . . . light it.
SNAKE: Shirt??? (Lights the cigarette, takes a breath, Boxman reaches out to take the cigarette, Snake doesn’t let him) What color? . . . For God’s sake focus, Boxman.
(Boxman is silent. Snake gives him the cigarette.)
BOXMAN: Red.
SNAKE: Black skirt, red shirt. (Takes back the cigarette) Was she wearing lipstick?
(Boxman is silent. Snake gives him the cigarette.)
BOXMAN: Yes, she had red lipstick on.
SNAKE: And did you touch her with your hands?
BOXMAN: Why you asking? . . . I touched her plenty . . . once I cornered her in the chicken coop.
SNAKE (Giving him the cigarette): Right, right . . . well, go on . . . what happened in the chicken coop? (Boxman is smoking) Carry on . . . what happened in the coop?
BOXMAN: I picked her up and put her on the windowsill.
SNAKE: What was she wearing?
BOXMAN: Same skirt and shirt.
SNAKE: Black and red, right . . . she always wears the same clothes . . . go on, what happened next?
BOXMAN: I got closer . . . and then I cornered her.
SNAKE (Takes back the cigarette): Wow! Your legs between hers? (Boxman nods) Go on, go on.
BOXMAN: Yes. I cornered her, and then . . .
SNAKE: Go on, don’t stop, what happened next?
BOXMAN: She looked at me and closed her eyes.
SNAKE (Takes the cigarette): She was enjoying it . . . well, don’t stop.
BOXMAN: I put my hand . . .
SNAKE: Where? Where did you put your hand?
BOXMAN (Realizing the cigarette has finished): I can hear something . . . sounds like the bus is here. (He goes)
SNAKE: Finish it, for fuck’s sake. Finish it. Fuck the bus. Finish it—
BOXMAN (Takes out the plastic cup and begins to listen): Huh, there’s a sound. The buses are here. The buses are here. I want to get to Gaza before dark.
MOSQUITO (Takes out a cup, taps on it . . . the mosquito returns and goes inside the matchbox): Guys, we’ve got to feed the mosquito so she doesn’t get dizzy on the bus.
BOXMAN: Why would she get dizzy? Is she pregnant or something?
MOSQUITO: Don’t be a smart arse . . . has she bitten you?
BOXMAN: Not yet.
MOSQUITO: Has she bitten you?
BOXMAN: Not yet.
MOSQUITO: Has she bitten you?
BOXMAN: Not yet.
MOSQUITO: Has she bitten you?
BOXMAN: Ouch! She did.
MOSQUITO: Give me your hand, Slap.
SLAP: Fuck off.
MOSQUITO: Ha ha ha . . . come on now . . . enough with the jokes.
SLAP: Who says I’m joking?
MOSQUITO: We’ve been feeding her for seven years. You always went along with it.
SLAP: Today I refuse.
MOSQUITO: Don’t piss me off.
BOXMAN: For God’s sake, the buses are waiting.
SLAP: I don’t have enough blood today.
MOSQUITO: Yes you do.
SLAP: I don’t.
BOXMAN: For God’s sake.
MOSQUITO (To Slap): Give me your hand before I break it.
SLAP: Clear off! Before I slap you and slap who slaps you.
BOXMAN: Snake.
MOSQUITO: Fine, Slap, be like that . . . I’ll sort you out in the coming days . . . this mosquito which you refuse to feed, pissed off the highest judge in all of Israel, she circled around his head, landing one time on his nose and another time on his ears. She made him so nervous, he had to leave the court, at a time when the gallons of blood spilling on our streets failed to move a single hair on his head. Have you forgotten? This little mosquito has done far more than your dear old friend Marx . . . the one you write about day and night . . . about his opinions . . . and theories on communism and socialism. The age of communism has passed. If your friend, Marx, were living today he’d be writing about this mosquito you hate so much. I know what you’ve been writing. And I’ll sort you out one day soon.
SLAP: There are no days to come . . . the bus is here.
MOSQUITO: Dream on.
SNAKE (Reaches out from under the cover): Come, Mosquito, let her bite me.
MOSQUITO: Not today.
SNAKE: Why not?
MOSQUITO: Listen mate, I don’t want . . . I don’t want this to be the last bite.
SNAKE: A second ago you said he was dreaming . . . now you talk about “last bite” . . . What’s going on, Mosquito?
MOSQUITO (Avoiding the question): You reckon she’ll survive outside?
SNAKE: As long as you breathe, she lives.
MOSQUITO: I’ll miss you.
SNAKE: Don’t forget to visit haja4 Salma, my dad’s aunt.
MOSQUITO: Don’t worry about it . . . I’ll be happy to do that for you.
(They go out and come back again. Snake observes them from the bathroom as if they are somewhere else.)
SNAKE: Who, Mosquito? How you’ve been? . . . Slap.
MOSQUITO: Hello Snake.
SNAKE: Slap?? How’re you doing, mate?
SLAP: I had the operation. They put a screw in my head.
SNAKE: Where’s Boxman?
MOSQUITO: Boxman is on honeymoon. With Siren, they went to Talousa.
SNAKE: And how is your daughter Sama?
MOSQUITO: Says hello. (Repeats that several times, they all laugh) It turns out these were the buses for the next guard shift.
SLAP: We’ve been hearing them for years . . . how could they’ve slipped our minds?
BOXMAN (From outside): The buses are here. Seriously. Come boys, let’s get in line before everyone else comes out.
(They continue laughing and saying good-bye to one another.
They exit. Snake remains alone. No one returns. He approaches the door then turns his back to it and begins singing hysterically. Mosquito and Slap return; they look at Snake. Snake laughs.)
(His voice is far) The buses are here. Come on boys. This time the buses are here for sure. (Everyone looks at the door with suspicion) Come on Mosquito, Slap, the guard is calling cell block 603. We’re the first to board.
(As they exit, they run into Boxman.)
(Enters) Just kidding! . . . You’re so gullible. (Laughs hysterically) The prison authority must love to needle us . . . but their sense of humor stinks. (Lets go of the box) Why are they torturing us? What have we done? All I want is to marry Siren, and finish my degree in agriculture, buy a small tractor with a right wing and a left wing, put a small chair for Siren next to me. She’ll be seven months pregnant and on the right wing, I’ll have a son and on the left wing, a daughter. And another boy running behind the tractor, he’ll be the one we always forget about. “Dad, stop, take me with you.” Fairuz will be singing “Last Days of Winter” on the radio . . . and Siren will split open tomatoes and pop them in my mouth. “Eat, they’ll strengthen your blood . . . damn we’ve forgotten about the boy again.”
(Mosquito goes to Boxman and hugs him.)
SNAKE: My granddad, Salama, loved to tell jokes. Married haja Nasra . . . crazy Nasra. In the ’67 war she went out and started sprinkling rice on the Israeli tanks, thinking they belonged to the Iraqi army. Sprinkling rice and ululating. One of the soldiers inside the tank pulled back a side hatch and said shalom, haja. She cried, “Who the hell are you?” and ran back to Grandpa Salama. “It looks like the Turks are back, Salama. These soldiers are not with the Iraqi army.” Salama tried to reassure her, “Don’t worry love; tomorrow the Iraqi army will be here.” So every day, haja Nasra waited on the bridge leading to our village. She died waiting on that bridge.
(The others perform mourning rituals for the passing of haja Nasra.)
BOXMAN: God have mercy on the soul of your grandma.
SNAKE: Thank you, thank you.
MOSQUITO: My condolences.
SLAP: She lives in you.
(This repeats as if they are at a very grave funeral and slowly the atmosphere changes and becomes more jubilant until it seems they are celebrating Snake’s wedding.
Slap brings his chair to the edge of the stage. Boxman takes his box to the door and sits on it.)
16-04-2007. Many things happened in the cell block today. The boys heard the sound of buses in the morning and thought they were coming for their release. Idiots! They were so happy. But I knew they were the buses bringing food. I have the ears of a fox. I didn’t want to spoil their fun, especially that fool, Boxman.
(Mosquito is trying to hear what Slap is saying.)
We went out then came back. A little while later we heard the buses again. I knew what they were for. I was tired and didn’t want to go out and come back again. I told the boys these buses are bringing new prisoners. Boxman said, “That’s not true.” I stood up, gave him a piercing look and shouted, “You calling me a liar?” Then I went up to him . . . to be honest I didn’t go up to him, he came to me . . . I grabbed him by the hair and slapped him. He cried like a child. I felt sorry for him and went out of the cell. I asked the shotiers to call the warden. The warden came, shaking with fear. I looked at him . . . then I slapped him. His secretary, Dani, she wanted to intervene but I slapped her too and I slapped the guards and I slapped the warden’s daughter, Ya’ael and his son, David and I slapped his wife . . . forgotten her name now . . . then the unit in charge of putting down prisoner revolt tried to stop me. I slapped the first of them, then the second and I slapped and slapped and slapped and I slapped Snake and haja Nasra and the Iraqi army, one by one I slapped them all. They all know my story. I was a teacher and the soldier hit one of my pupils. I grabbed hold of the soldier and I slapped him and slapped him and slapped him. The boy died and I carried on slapping and slapping. (Loses control completely)
(Snake goes to Slap, picks him up and puts him on his bed.)
SNAKE: I’m beginning to hate this job. If only I didn’t run out of fucking bullets. They dried his brain with the butt of their guns. (Goes to the bathroom) He used to get the fit once a week. Now it’s daily. And what’s worse, he’s only got the one pill left. Slap . . . slaps . . . for they are the slappers. I wish I hadn’t run out of bullets, Slap.
(Snake, Mosquito and Boxman suddenly stop. They look in all directions in unison. They then look just up and down. They hear the sound of the mosquito. It’s strong. They move together in unison performing a dance [the dance of search].)
(In a low voice) Can you hear that?
BOXMAN: Where’s she?
MOSQUITO: Under our stuff.
(They start moving their clothes and beds slowly. They go through the clothes piece by piece. They look astonished.)
SNAKE: What the fuck? (Sighing) She’s naked.
BOXMAN: Who’s that with her?
SNAKE: What are they doing?
BOXMAN: Is he biting her?
SNAKE (Sighing): O God.
MOSQUITO: Turn around, turn around. Don’t stare at them.
SNAKE: They’re doing what Boxman and Siren did in the chicken coop.
BOXMAN: We didn’t do anything in the chicken coop.
SNAKE (Looks at Boxman): O God.
MOSQUITO: Everyone back to his bed. “O God,” “O God” . . . you all turned religious all of a sudden . . . (He brushes off the male mosquito) Shoo, shoo, get off her, piss off.
(Boxman and Snake exit. Snake goes to the bathroom.)
BOXMAN (From far): Your mosquito’s a slut; you’ve raised her badly.
MOSQUITO (To the mosquito): Look what scandal you’ve made. Didn’t I tell you sweetheart that we have customs and traditions? First he has to ask for your hand in marriage then you can have your wedding night. I want to give you the best wedding and dance and sing in your wedding. (Sings a lullaby) Why she doesn’t have photos? Why can’t her mum send me her photos from Canada . . . her mum . . . probably running around with her boyfriend . . . or maybe she sends the letters but they take long to get here . . . I wonder if Sama knows me . . . does her mum talk to her about me . . . I’ve even forgotten what her mum looks like . . . it’s been seven years since I’ve seen her.
(Slap takes the cup from Boxman and puts it on the floor.)
SLAP: The buses are here . . . they’re here . . .
SNAKE: It’s true, they’re here.
MOSQUITO (Laughing): Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to rot in jail.
SLAP: Get up Boxman. Don’t make me slap you and slap who slaps you. Get up before you end up like the boy who cried wolf.
(Slap and Boxman go. Mosquito and Snake remain. They look at each other. We hear the iron door opening loudly. Snake comes close to the edge of the stage. Faint rhythmic sounds can be heard.)
SNAKE: The door has opened. Get up, Mosquito . . . It’s the first time in nine years I’ve ever heard the door open. Get up. The day you’ve been waiting for is here. Get up.
(Snake goes to Mosquito. Siren appears in the corner. She begins to dance like a Sufi. Snake carries Mosquito over his shoulder and heads for the door.)
The door is open . . . the day you’ve been waiting for is here. It’s here, Mosquito . . . go, go home. Me, I’m never getting out of here.
(Mosquito escapes, runs to his bed and hides.)
MOSQUITO: My wife is running around with her boyfriend and my daughter is lost.
SNAKE: Forget your wife. What matters is your daughter.
MOSQUITO: I’ve lost everything.
SNAKE: That’s it. That’s the heart of the story, it’s not about standing up to some judge.
MOSQUITO: It’s all about the judge. I refuse to stand up for a symbol of our occupation.
SNAKE: Don’t be a prick. This is your chance. The prisoner exchange. Take it.
MOSQUITO: I’m worried about what people might say . . . they might mock me because of her.
SNAKE: Because of whom?
MOSQUITO: The Canadian.
SNAKE: Fuck them. She’s your wife.
MOSQUITO: Was my wife, though I’m still responsible for her . . . and now she’s got a boyfriend.
SNAKE: What do you care? When you get out, divorce her and take back your daughter.
MOSQUITO: I can’t be sure . . . that she’s my daughter. Biologically.
SNAKE: Don’t say that man. Sure she’s your daughter. One hundred percent. Your wife was pregnant when she left to Canada . . . her stomach out to there . . . and you had a premonition she was going to give birth to a daughter . . . that’s why you chose the name Sama.
MOSQUITO: What if she told her “your father is dead”? Or that her boyfriend is the true father.
SNAKE: So what? The girl will still look like you.
MOSQUITO: And her mum, my wife?
SNAKE: What about her?
MOSQUITO: Haven’t you been listening? She left me for someone else.
SNAKE: Abandon who abandons you, my friend . . . to hell with her . . . you just worry about your daughter.
MOSQUITO: And my wife?
SNAKE: Forget her.
MOSQUITO: She’s her mum.
SNAKE: She’s gone.
MOSQUITO: Her mum.
SNAKE: She fucked you good, what do you want with her?
MOSQUITO: No . . . I love her. (He goes to his bed and hides. Snake goes after him)
SNAKE: If you loved her how can you be scared to think about someone else loving her? Stand up. Stand up. You’re a father.
In two hours, your house will be full of visitors. (The rhythmic beat intensifies and so does Siren’s spinning) People coming and people going. All sorts of people. There’ll be the political and the perverted. The wise and the idiotic; the nervous, the fearful and the confused. The imam and the priest. Those with Hamas and those with Fatah. Communists and capitalists, slapper and slapped. In two hours, your house will be full of people talking rubbish, about a world you don’t recognize, a land severed like the cord of an overplayed guitar, about a nation slapped in the face and trodden down in fear. In two hours, you’ll have your fill. And whatever they ask you, answer it. The honest man has nothing to fear. Two hours and you’ll see, you’ll see what can’t be seen and hear what can’t be heard. Two hours and the house will be full. I want you to stand in front of them, glowing, a man. Your feet planted in soil; head, nailed to the sky. Let them touch you but not possess you. Two hours and the house will be full.
(Snake begins to sing: “Here comes the bride, dancing for her groom. Kicking the devil up beyond the moon.” He repeats it three times before collapsing on the bed. The music stops. Siren disappears. Boxman enters.)
BOXMAN: Fuck it. Slap’s gone. Gone home. They shut the door in my face. Told me to piss off. Slap tricked them. They called for someone whose name sounded something like “jab” or “crap.” Slap lifted his hand and said, “That’s me.” I thought I’d do the same. I told them, my name is “Khadir.” They said, there’s no one with that name in the entire prison. Then I said, “Actually my name is Salem.” They told me Salem died two years ago. Why there’re so many buses. Coming and going. Turns out, these ones are buses for people who served their sentence.
(He sits and begins driving an imaginary bus.)
SNAKE (Goes to Boxman): Your driving is brilliant. Just brilliant. Driving a bus is like driving a tractor. Easy. Easy. Slow down. Slow down. Watch out for the cars . . . slow . . . slow . . . put it in second gear, now third. Sweet. Go on. Go on. Pull up, pull up. Don’t be scared. Pull up . . . brill.
(Snake stands before Boxman and indicates that he wants to get on the bus.)
BOXMAN: Where to, bro?
SNAKE: How do I know . . . wait . . . take me to Haifa.
BOXMAN: Haifa? How would I get there? They say it’s far.
SNAKE: I don’t know, it’s got a bridge. Grandpa Salama used to tell me, if you want to smell the sweetest fragrance, go to Haifa.
BOXMAN: Got any money?
SNAKE: Don’t be ridiculous.
BOXMAN: What a shit day this is turning out to be. Get in. Get in.
(Mosquito looks at Boxman as he drives the imaginary bus. Mosquito indicates that he wants a ride.)
Where to?
MOSQUITO: Don’t know.
BOXMAN: Don’t know? I’ve worked this route for twenty years and no one has ever said that before. Got any money?
MOSQUITO: Nope.
BOXMAN: You don’t know where you’re going and you’ve got no money . . . what a shit day . . . get in, get in.
MOSQUITO (Riding behind him): Looks like there is a problem at Zoqaq gate. Take another route.
BOXMAN: That’s normal, it’s time for the school run.
MOSQUITO: School? What time do schools in Canada finish?
BOXMAN: How would I know? Why you asking?
MOSQUITO: I have a daughter studying there.
MOSQUITO: I don’t know.
BOXMAN: I swear, you don’t even know where on earth the Lord has put you.
SNAKE (To Mosquito): How’s it going? (To Boxman) Could you step on it a little, you’re driving like a pensioner.
MOSQUITO: Yes, hurry please.
SNAKE: Faster.
BOXMAN: Hang on.
MOSQUITO: Faster, Boxman.
SNAKE: Just fucking step on it, man. Fly, fly and take us with you.
BOXMAN: Hang on tight. I’m going over the other cars.
MOSQUITO: Think the rocket, be the rocket.
SNAKE: Fly and set the exhaust pipe on fire . . . take us to Haifa . . . to Spring Hill, to Zakarya and Gabreen House . . . Jaffa . . . Al-Nasra . . . Akka . . . and the lion’s well . . . the watermill, Golan Heights and Deir Yassin.
(Siren appears and she walks slowly toward the bus.)
BOXMAN: Shit! I want to fly, not slow down.
MOSQUITO: Fly to Canada.
BOXMAN: I want to go to Gaza.
SNAKE: Fly, let the exhaust cough up black smoke. I want to become a shepherd again, running free in the mountains. Say hello to haja Salma.
MOSQUITO: We’re on fire . . . fly, fly . . . Sama, daughter . . . how I miss you.
BOXMAN: Siren, I’m coming to you. Hang on baby.
SNAKE: Two hours and the house will be full, two hours and the house will be full, hurry.
MOSQUITO: Take us back to prison, to prison. Turn around, turn around and go back.
SNAKE: Ignore him; ignore him; keep going.
MOSQUITO: If you don’t stop, I’ll throw myself out of the window.
SNAKE: Don’t listen to him. (Holds Mosquito to prevent him jumping from the bus and sings)
(Siren is suddenly before the bus. Boxman presses the breaks. All three collapse on the floor. Silence.
Boxman approaches Siren. He tries to tell her everything very quickly.)
BOXMAN: Your hair is longer, eyes bigger, smell . . . just as I remember, neither thinner nor fatter, as you were . . . but why the black under your eyes . . . why you’ve stopped combing your hair . . . I’ve got so much to tell you . . . so much . . . I want to talk and talk . . . I want to marry you and have twenty kids . . . I’ll work like a donkey . . . why the dark under your eyes . . . is it from waiting? What news of our village on the mountain? Still facing the sea? I want to smell you, lose my soul in yours. (Siren turns her back and prepares to exit) Wait.
SNAKE (Stands in front of her): Wait . . . wait. (Siren wants to leave. He grabs her by her clothes) You’ve been on my mind for years . . . I was lost in your smell . . . your name . . . talk of you . . . I imagine your hair, long, braided, straight, kinked, wet, liberated and covered up. (She tries to leave . . . he rips her clothes) I imagine you sleeping, standing, bent over, waiting for the day to end and night to begin. (Boxman tries to intervene. Snake pushes him violently out of the way) I pull you and you pull back . . . bite you and you bite back . . . stay. (Siren tries to leave. Snake lifts her off the ground. She manages to free herself) Call me scum, lowlife, lecherous, treacherous, whatever else you like but know this, I want you, desire you, dream of you every night, perverse images come and go. I lose myself to them.
(Siren escapes.)
BOXMAN: Shut up, shut up, shut up . . . Are you crazy? Fuck you and fuck your father and his father also . . . you fucking shepherd. What? You’ve been fantasizing about her . . . she’s mine.
SNAKE: Was yours.
(Silence . . . we hear the metal door shut.)
BOXMAN: You’re so selfish . . . you did this because you knew I am leaving this place and you’re stuck here. We’re all going except you. I’m going and you’ll stay in the darkness and the dampness and the isolation, dying slowly. I’ll get married and have kids and whoever said prison is for men is a cunt . . . and a liar. Prison is the end of men. You’re going to die, Snake. Know how? Inside the toilet where you spend all your time . . . you’re going to hang yourself. You pretend to be tough but you’re weaker than Mosquito’s mosquito . . . get ready for death, Snake . . . because after you see us go, you’ll feel as if a knife went through your back and came out of your belly. Your death should be slow, bloodless . . . you know where they’ll bury you? Near Askalan, in the prisoners’ graveyard with just a number to mark your grave because all you are is a number . . . you’ll live and die without making a woman pregnant, without leaving behind a son to carry your name . . . think about what I’m saying . . . no woman pregnant . . . no son to carry your name . . . let your death be bloodless, Snake. Let be a hanging.
SNAKE: Do you want to know what happened to Siren?
BOXMAN: Snake.
SNAKE: She died during the shelling of Gaza.
(Boxman goes back to his place, puts his cardboard box down and drives the bus slowly. Mosquito starts tapping on the plastic cup for the mosquito to return . . . she doesn’t. His tapping intensifies throughout the scene.)
(To Mosquito) Your mosquito will come back, don’t worry.
MOSQUITO: So says the famous sniper . . . you’re only someone on the outside.
SNAKE: I don’t care how people rate me. What matters is what you think.
MOSQUITO: They tell your stories to children before they go to sleep.
SNAKE: I don’t care about that, tell me what you think.
MOSQUITO: They tell them about the shepherd who whenever he stopped, his flock stopped along with him . . . and when he walked, they walked behind him . . . once upon a time, there was a shepherd, holding an old English rifle from the time of Jordan.
SNAKE: Worn out with rust.
MOSQUITO: He roamed the valleys . . . watching the blockades between the mountains. You fell in love with the love of your friend . . . lost yourself in a fantasy that didn’t belong to you. (He slaps Snake)
SNAKE: If someone else did that, I’d cut off his hand. What do you want me to do? Outside, they think of me as hero. But what kind of hero am I when I’m rotting here and no one gives a fuck? First two years passed and no one came to visit yet outside they call me the sniper hero and talk endlessly about how I shot twelve soldiers with a rusty English rifle. Only haja Salma comes around to see me. Her kidneys are rotten; she sells half her medicine to buy me things, gifts she brings. She tells me, “Thank god I have kidney disease; it’s the only way I could make money.” I’m killing her slowly. What kind of hero does that make me? A hero waiting to be exchanged with another prisoner. An exchange that will never happen. The only way it could happen is if my blood turns black, expires, ages. I’ll be exchanged when I’m completely humiliated. Not humiliated by my jailer, no, the jailer doesn’t have that power over me. My humiliation feeds on watching haja Salma, selling her blood for my sake. Fuck the prisoner exchange. Fuck it.
SLAP (Enters): Your mosquito is on my shoulder. Take her.
(Mosquito puts the mosquito back in the matchbox. Slap takes out his notebook and begins writing.)
The time for lying is over. I’ll write what I didn’t write before, what no poet or author has penned before. You’ll be surprised to learn that I went outside, I went at thirteen hundred hours outside the prison . . . there was a real bus. Suddenly the bus starting spluttering, the engine putting out smoke and sparks flew through the bars of the front grill . . . I felt a danger coming . . . I went to the bus driver and asked him what’s wrong. Said to me, the motor is dead so I slapped him black and blue. One of the prisoners stood up and started crying, “Our happiness is not meant to be.” I slapped him so hard, his teeth popped. The other prisoners started gathering them from the floor. The guard looked at me with fear in his eyes. He said, “Due to a technical error, the prisoner exchange has been delayed till tomorrow” . . . I laughed a mocking laugh . . . ha, ha, ha . . . then I slapped him and told him . . . tomorrow is Friday and I’d like to rest . . . leave it till the day after . . . then on my way—
MOSQUITO: Come on, man! The mosquito is dying of hunger.
SLAP: Leave me be or I’ll slap you so hard, you’ll see stars at noon.
MOSQUITO: Boxman is lost, Snake is not talking to me because I hit him . . . there’s no else left but you.
SLAP: I hate your mosquito . . . I hate all insects . . . I’ve no blood left in me.
MOSQUITO: Yes you have.
SLAP: No I don’t.
MOSQUITO: She’s got nothing but your blood and mine to suck on.
SLAP: My blood is contaminated by all the medication I’ve been taking. It won’t do.
MOSQUITO: She got used to it.
SLAP: Get away from me or I’ll slap you so hard, blood will pour out of your eyes.
(Mosquito takes out a letter from his shirt.)
What’s that?
MOSQUITO: Your story . . . your diary . . . not the stories about “I slapped him” and “he slapped me” where you are the hero but the other kind, the stories you write while we sleep . . . and there I was thinking you’re writing about Marx and Lenin.
SLAP: Where’d you find it?
MOSQUITO: None of your business . . . give me your hand.
SLAP: I won’t.
MOSQUITO (Starts reading): They’ve imposed a curfew . . . gathered the men on one side and the women on the other.
SLAP: Don’t, Mosquito.
MOSQUITO: The soldier shouted at the men, “Sit down on your arse now!”
MOSQUITO: They all sat on their arses except Slap . . . the soldier looked at him and said, “Hey you, on your arse, now!” I told him I wasn’t going to do it. The soldier got angry and told his commanding officer that “this animal” refuses to sit down. The officer told me, “I’ll massacre this entire village if you don’t sit down on your arse right now.” The villagers panicked, their elders began screaming at Slap to sit down.
SLAP: Enough, Mosquito. Don’t finish it.
MOSQUITO: And the woman beat their heads and screamed, “God curse you Slap, you want to widow us for the sake of your arse?” The officer slapped me so hard I saw the stars of noon. He fired rounds between my feet. I screamed, “In the name of Allah, don’t shoot! I’ve got piles, that’s why I can’t sit down” . . . everyone began to laugh . . . I was humiliated.
SLAP: Enough Mosquito.
MOSQUITO: I became the butt of all jokes in the village. “Here comes the piles man, there goes the piles man” . . . even when I found a girl and wanted her hand in marriage . . .
(Slap snatches the matchbox from Mosquito and puts it between his feet. Mosquito approaches him.)
SLAP: You take one more step and I’ll squash her . . . turn her to powder . . . to dust . . . blood will pour out of her eyes . . . as it did from mine, when you were reading just now.
MOSQUITO: Don’t do it, Slap.
SLAP: Go on . . . continue . . . I went seeking the hand of the girl. Her father told me, “We’re not marrying her to a joke like you; her groom must have a sound arse.”
(Slap’s foot gets closer to the matchbox.)
MOSQUITO: For God’s sake.
SLAP: I asked to be transferred to another school in another village; they transferred me to a garbage heap . . . a broken man.
MOSQUITO: You’ve never been broken . . . you were the man who slapped the soldier and put him in the hospital for a month.
(Slap’s foot gets closer still to the matchbox.)
SLAP: I slapped him by accident . . . I didn’t do it out of patriotic duty . . . I’ve never given our nation a moment’s thought in my life.
MOSQUITO: I’m begging you, don’t do it.
SLAP: Fuck the nation. Fuck this country. Look how much blood it has demanded from us . . . and for what? For dirt and rocks and stones and orchards . . . fuck all these things . . . I want to live . . . I want to hear the other and have him hear me . . . not slap and be slapped back . . . forgive and be forgiven . . . not hit and be beaten . . . fuck this country for all the blood it took . . . I want to hold this country by the scruff and slap it across the face . . . slap its greens and yellows . . . slap Marx and Lenin, slap and slap and slap.
(Slap goes into a fit and smashes the matchbox.)
MOSQUITO: What’ve you done?
(He runs to the box, trying to rescue the mosquito.)
You’ve trampled on my soul.
(Snake carries Slap and puts him in bed. Slap remains in the grip of the fit till the end due to absence of medicine. Snake grabs the matchbox and begins tapping on it until the mosquito returns.
Lights dim slowly until complete darkness.
Suddenly we hear the horn of a bus loudly. The sound is deafening. The metal door opens.
We see Siren is in the corner wrapped in a white dress, spinning in circles.
A voice comes over the loudspeaker saying in Hebrew:
“Prisoner 2002, known as Mosquito. You are released.”
“Prisoner 607, known as Slap. You are released.”
“Prisoner 301, known as Boxman. You are released.”
This is repeated several times.
No one exits.
Snake heads toward the door. He looks at the exit then suddenly runs out.)
SIREN: Wait.
(Lights down quickly and completely.)
END OF PLAY
1. The literal translation of the song is: “The bride descended to the circle of the groom. Glory to Muhammad, shame to Satin.”
2. Guard in Hebrew.
3. Soldier in Hebrew.
4. Haja is a lady who has been to the annual pilgrimage in Mecca.