THE DEMOLITION DOWNTOWN

Count ten, in Arabic— and try to run

The Demolition Downtown was first performed at the Carnaby Street Theatre, London on January 12, 1976. It was directed by Robert Henderson; the scenic and costume designs were by Peter Lindsay; and the lighting design was by Robert Henderson. The cast, in order of appearance, was as follows:

MR. LANE: Norwich Duff

MRS. LANE: Christine Schofield

MR. KANE: Norman Anstey

MRS. KANE: Carole Hopkin

ROSEMARY, a child

GLADYS, a child

The play is set in an upper-middle-class living room on the outskirts of a capital city.

At the curtain’s rise an attractive, youngish man is staring tensely downstage. After some moments his wife lets herself in the front door of the house, stage right or left. She is also youngish and attractive. They are Mr. and Mrs. Lane. Scattered throughout the play are the sounds of dynamite blasts and falling walls of buildings, sometimes alarmingly near.

MRS. L.: No luck.

MR. L.: Why didn’t you let me know you were going out?

MRS. L.: You were upstairs. I thought you might be taking nap.

MR. L.: How could you imagine I’d be taking a nap?

MRS. L.: I suppose I’m not used to your being home before six.

MR. L.: When you came in you said, “No luck.” What did you mean by no luck?

MRS. L.: I went to see if the supermarket or Kwik-chek might be open again.

MR. L.: Still closed?

MRS. L.: No sign of life on the premises of either.

MR. L.: I don’t want you to go out of the house without letting me know.

MRS. L.: Has the house turned into a jail and are you the warden of it?

MR. L.: Each of us has to know where the other one is at all times.

MRS. L.: Jeff, I think it’s best to act as if nothing has happened.

MR. L.: We mustn’t pretend to each other.

MRS. L.: All right, we’re anxious, but we don’t have to act like criminals, caught and convicted, waiting for execution.

MR. L.: Neither of us leaves the house without.

MRS. L.: I told you why I went out.

MR. L.: I told you we’ve got to know at all times where.

MRS. L.: Didn’t I just tell you why I went out?

MR. L.: When I found you’d.

MRS. L.: Gone about ten minutes to see if.

MR. L.: You’d disappeared from the house and I didn’t know where you’d, and anyway we mustn’t use the cars. The filling stations are shut down. Did you hear what I said? The filling stations are shut down, so we’ve got to reserve the gas and oil in the cars for a possible trip somewhere.

MRS. L.: We don’t understand what each other.

MR. L.: We might want to go on a, we might decide to. We might want to take a little trip some place while I’m free to do it.

MRS. L.: You mean running away, and where’s to run to? Don’t you imagine that?

MR. L.: We don’t listen to each other!

MRS. L.: Don’t you imagine that, wouldn’t you guess that the highways out of the city are barricaded?

MR. L.: There are roads not traveled on much.

MRS. L.: Do you want to know why I really went out? I really went out because I like, I need the sight of familiar places and, and. Familiar places and things, that’s why I went out for ten minutes. It was good for my nerves to go out, and so was driving my car.

MR. L.: Driving a Jaguar sports car when.

MRS. L.: Oh, for the love of!

MR. L.: Hunting trips have taught me where these roads are. Roads unknown to, roads only known to, to a few people only.

MRS. L.: Jeff, for the love of, don’t, don’t suddenly show me a.

MR. L.: I suppose you.

MRS. L.: A yellow streak in you, Jeff. This isn’t the time to.

MR. L.: To use a little precaution is.

MRS. L.: Yes, well just to see them, even shut down, it made me.

MR. L.: See what?

MRS. L.: The supermarket and Kwik-chek. I felt like someone still living a usual, normal sort of.

MR. L.: Fine, but you understand that.

MRS. L.: Oh, God, Jeff, I.

MR. L.: Not reserving the gas and oil in the cars is.

MRS. L.: Okay, okay, Mr. Lane! Get me a donkey! An old one, a mangy old donkey! For transportation! But I will not stay in always!

[She snatches a gin bottle from the bar.]

MR. L.: — How much is left in?

MRS. L.: About a couple of fingers. Do we have to reserve it or can we dissipate now?

MR. L.: Let’s have it now. I didn’t mean to shout at you.

MRS. L. [as she shakily pours the gin in two glasses]: No dry vermouth left, baby.

MR. L.: Baby, take off your hat. [The request is ignored. In hat, coat, handbag in her lap she sits beside him on a sofa. The drink calms them down a little.] Baby, will you at least take off your gloves?

MRS. L.: Gee. Drinking with my gloves on. [She removes one of the gloves. He removes the other.]

MR. L.: Where did you leave the Jaguar, in the garage or?

MRS. L.: I left it in front of the house.

MR. L.: Give me the key and I’ll put it in the garage.

MRS. L.: There’s nothing top secret about it.

MR. L.: I said please give me the key to the Jaguar, baby.

MRS. L.: I don’t have the key; I don’t know what I did with it.

MR. L.: I think you probably left it in the.

MRS. L.: Yes, probably, yes.

MR. L.: It’s all right, baby, I’ll.

[He goes out. She finishes her drink and takes a sip of his. There is a particularly loud dynamite blast. It changes the angles of the pictures.]

MRS. L.: Lord God in the— Highest! [As Mr. L. conies back in:] Didn’t it feel good to go out for a minute?

MR. L.: What?

MRS. L.: I didn’t say anything. There ought to be a reassuring statement to the people anytime now.

MR. L.: Barbarians don’t, won’t, can’t reassure.

MRS. L.: I’ve heard that he comes from the intellectual class, and has a degree in—

MR. L.: Yes, in a pig’s—

MRS. L.: . . . in law.

MR. L.: In violation of law and in destruction of order and disruption of— . TV dead. Radio dead. Newspapers not delivered since he seized the—

MRS. L.: Don’t say “seized.” Say “took over.”

MR. L.: Take off your hat and coat, and put your handbag down; you’re in the house.

MRS. L.: There’ll be something, there has to be just something, or.

MR. L.: It’s a week and a half and there’s been nothing but—nothing.

MRS. L.: Any day there’ll be a—

MR. L.: There’ll be what? I don’t expect anything.

MRS. L. [taking off her coat]: Isn’t it lucky we have so much in the deep-freeze, Jeff?

MR. L.: Yes, since otherwise we’d. — Honey, do you know that you’re still holding your handbag?

MRS. L.: — Of course I don’t mind, Jeff, but the fly of your pants isn’t zipped.

MR. L.: — Oh. Sorry. [He zips the fly.] I suppose that.

MRS. L.: Under the circumstances.

MR. L.: We have to make allowances for.

MRS. L.: I think we ought to make love, right now, on the sofa.

MR. L.: Thank you, honey, but anxiety and lovemaking? You’d find me disappointing.

MRS. L.: That’s something I’ve never found you anytime, Jeff.

MR. L.: A man has a nervous system that has to be prepared for lovemaking, in the right gear for it, and.

MRS. L.: I was thinking of what might be a pleasant distraction for us.

MR. L.: Let’s think of it after the blasting quits for the day.

MRS. L.: All right. I’ll remind you later.

MR. L.: Yes. Later. Upstairs.

MRS. L. [suddenly calling out]: Sally!

MR. L.: Honey, the maid hasn’t been here since the blasting began.

MRS. L.: Gee. Yes. Didn’t show up for her payday. Well— [Sound of more blasting.] I’m glad that Rosemary and Gladys are at Sacré Coeur.

MR. L.: All schools, and Sacré Coeur is a school, have been—

MRS. L.: — What?

MR. L.: Converted to—

MRS. L.: What?

MR. L.: Barracks. I heard that from—

MRS. L.: Too many people have been guessing too wildly about too many things, and Sacré Coeur is a convent school, and.

MR. L.: The church and the new government aren’t on what I’d call the friendliest terms. Would you say that they were?

MRS. L.: Oh, you seem determined to demoralize us completely when we’re already demoralized, Jeff.

MR. L.: I’m not demoralized.

MRS. L.: Then why can’t you sit still? Sit on the sofa and let me rub your forehead.

MR. L. [following the suggestion]: Not to be slightly disturbed would be— [Sound of blasting.] That didn’t sound much further than ten or twelve blocks away.

MRS. L.: At first the blasting was only in the morning.

MR. L.: I’ve found out one thing. Anxiety is the most useless feeling a person can feel.

MRS. L.: I’d say it’s a useful feeling, since it makes you aware of circumstances that could be, that might be not quite favorable to you.

MR. L.: Don’t leave the house again without letting me know.

MRS. L.: — Jeff, in a marriage that’s been as good, remarkably good, as ours has always been till just now, there shouldn’t be orders. Should there?

MR. L.: Honey, don’t you think it’s wise to reserve the.

MRS. L.: Gas and oil in the cars. Okay. — Are we just going to rattle around here picking on each other till we forget that we love each other?

MR. L.: Oh, for.

MRS. L.: Whose sake?

MR. L.: The sake of consideration of.

[Blasting.]

MRS. L.: That rattled the windows and shook the Vertes off the wall.

MR. L.: Yes, I noticed it did.

MRS. L.: Wouldn’t you think if there’s all this.

MR. L.: — Demolition— downtown. [He hangs the picture up. Immediately there’s another blast and the picture is shaken down again.]

MRS. L. [tossing the Vertes on the sofa]: That put the Dufy at a forty-five-degree angle. [Mr. L. sits down and immediately springs up.] You couldn’t sit still?

MR. L.: I guess not. — You have a little twitch at the side of your mouth today.

MRS. L.: If wc didn’t show some symptoms of nervous uncertainty we’d be unnatural creatures.

MR. L.: Stop picking up things for no reason, looking at them with a blind look, and setting them back down. It’s.

MRS. L.: It’s natural for us to—

MR. L.: Not know what we’re doing? — House confinement. No activity.

MRS. L.: I make up the beds and I prepare meals and I even dust the furniture and run the vacuum cleaner over the—

MR. L.: Why bother?

MRS. L.: I think we have to keep up some semblance of usual activity or we’ll find ourselves climbing the walls. I didn’t realize that Sally was such a poor servant till I started doing the housework myself.

MR. L.: Take your hat off, will you?

MRS. L.: I always do that in the bedroom.

MR. L.: Oh. Do you?

MRS. L.: Love, you’re shaking, you’re.

MR. L.: How could I feel well? Are you feeling well? Well, are you?

MRS. L.: I feel—

MR. L.: What?

MRS. L.: I always feel energetic and a little high-strung in the fall. Do you know what I think I’m going to do? I think I’m going out in the yard and rake up the dead leaves.

MR. L.: You’re not going out in the yard.

MRS. L.: It would be a normal activity.

MR. L.: I think we ought to make the house look unoccupied until the—

MRS. L.: That’s what I’m going to do, to work off my nervous energy. [She goes through an upstage door. He lights a cigarette and burns his fingers with the match. She reenters with a rake.] The front lawn first.

MR. L. [seizing the rake and throwing through the dark upstage door]: The house is not occupied. Get it?

MRS. L.: Not a bit of it. Two lunatics live in it.

MR. L.: That’s the goddamn truth. Come here.

MRS. L.: What for?

MR. L.: This. [He pulls up her skirt and runs his hands over her buttocks.]

MRS. L.: That’s what I suggested. You said you were too nervous.

MR. L. [feeling the front of his pants]: Well, I guess I was right.

MRS. L.: I paid you the compliment of taking off my hat and coat in the living room.

MR. L.: Thank you. I’m sorry. The tension won’t last much longer.

[There is a pounding at the door. After some hesitation Mr. Lane unbolts it, opens it a few inches. Two little girls, Rosemary and Gladys, burst into the room. Mr. and Mrs. Lane are curiously indifferent to their homecoming.]

ROSEMARY: Daddy! Mummy!

GLADYS: Mummy! Daddy!

MRS. L.: Why have you girls left Sacré Coeur?

ROSEMARY: It was captivated.

MR. L.: Do you mean captured?

ROSEMARY: Yes.

GLADYS: Captured.

ROSEMARY: The Sisters and the Mother Superior.

GLADYS: They were hauled away in a truck.

ROSEMARY: We ran and ran.

MRS. L.: You look like you’d been playing in a pile of cinders. Go right upstairs and bathe and go to bed.

GLADYS: Is everything all right here?

MR. L.: Perfectly, perfectly.

MRS. L.: Upstairs. Bathe. Get in bed.

ROSEMARY: A man with a black beard did a nasty thing to us.

MR. L.: What did he— ?

MRS. L.: Didn’t you hear me? Upstairs, I said, and bathe and get in your beds.

[The little girls run up a flight of steps to a landing where the steps turn out of sight.]

MR. L. [with no real interest]: They said that they were molested.

MRS. L.: They seemed like—

MR. L.: What?

MRS. L.: Strangers, complete strangers, to me.

MR. L.: Sacré Coeur’s shut down.

MRS. L.: The nuns and that horsefaced Mother Superior hauled away in a truck. Oh. — I took a steak out of the deep-freeze this morning.

MR. L.: Oh.

MRS. L.: Yes. And some lima beans.

MR. L.: Until there’s some explanation, I think we should eat in the kitchen by candlelight.

MRS. L.: Eat anywhere you want to, but I’m not going to live in a dark house, Jeff.

MR. L.: It’s time for the news report.

[He switches on the TV. Its face is blank. It gives off a crackling sound.]

MRS. L.: An interesting news report.

MR. L.: We have to get out of here. Thank God for my hunting trips. We could— no, I guess we couldn’t.

MRS. L.: What did you start to suggest?

MR. L.: Spending a week or two at Blue Lake.

MRS. L.: No, we couldn’t do that. The hotels at Blue Lake had so much employment trouble that they shut down the first of September.

MR. L.: You know, I think it’s possible that the new party in power, after a little preliminary shakedown, may turn out to be a rigid party but not a, not a— party that lacks human feelings.

MRS. L.: Jeff, I see your point, but the confiscation of your office building wasn’t the most reassuring thing in the world. — Would you say that it was?

MR. L.: That could be more temporary than final, baby. [The sound of a loud blast.] The blasting sounds closer today.

MRS. L.: Maybe, baby, that’s just because you’re more disturbed by it today.

MR. L.: I’m naturally somewhat concerned by it but I’m not what you’d call— what did you say? Disturbed? I’m not disturbed, just waiting with concern.

MRS. L.: Is there a difference between being concerned and disturbed?

MR.L.: Disturbed is when you’re sweating.

MRS. L.: You’re sweating, baby. A little. Like after a hard game of tennis with a hot sun on you.

MR. L.: Do the present conditions of things make you feel nice and cool, baby?

MRS. L.: Me? I’m not thinking of me. [She sticks her hand in his pocket.] I’m a pickaninny. Have you got a nickel in your pocket for me to buy a licorice stick or a little bag of gum-drops?

MR. L.: Upstairs. Later, baby.

[The doorbell rings.]

MRS. L.: — Should we?

MR. L.: Yes, of course, why not.

MRS. L.: I can think of several reasons but not good ones.

MR. L.: See who’s at the door, baby. Ask before you open.

MRS. L. [approaching the door and calling out]: Who’s there?

FEMALE VOICE: Us.

MALE VOICE: Just Us.

MRS. L.: Who’s us?

MR. L.: Yes, I’d like to know that.

MALE VOICE: The Kanes.

MR. L.: The Kanes.

FEMALE VOICE: Don’t keep us freezing out here.

MR. L.: Baby, let the Kanes in.

MRS. L.: Just a moment. I’m having a little trouble with the new bolt. Ah, there now, come in, come in, how wonderful to see you.

[Mrs. Lane admits a pair of neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Kane. They are the same age as the Lanes and similar to them in appearance.]

MRS. KANE: We haven’t seen you since.

MR. L.: Well, hello there, Henry.

MR. KANE: How are you doing, Jeff?

MRS. L.: Sit down, sit down.

[The Kanes sit down: their nervousness is apparent.]

MR. KANE: We should have phoned, but Elaine says the phone isn’t working.

MRS. L.: Neither is ours.

MR. L.: Henry, how are things at the Bolster Trust?

MR. KANE: Oh, fine, I guess fine, but I, uh, haven’t been down there lately.

MR. L.: Any particular reason?

MR. KANE: I thought I’d stay away till things settle down.

MRS. L.: I’m looking to see if there’s any liquor and there isn’t any except a bottle of sweet vermouth.

MR. KANE: We would have brought some over but we’ve drunk our little bar dry.

MRS. L.: We’ve been drinking more than usual since—

MR. L.: Since President Stane surrendered to the, uh.

MR. KANE: New regime.

MR. L.: Yes. Treasonous.

MRS. L.: We might as well drink the vermouth.

MRS. KANE: Yes. Wonderful.

MR. KANE: — Yes. [To his wife:] Take your coat off, honey.

MRS. KANE: It’s too chilly. I’ll leave it on.

MR. KANE: It’s not chilly in here.

MRS. KANE: It was so chilly outside. I’ll leave my coat on for a while.

MR. KANE: I’m not going to argue with you.

MR. L.: How’s your kids?

MR. KANE: Snug as bugs in their beds.

[Mr. Kane coughs.]

MR. L.: That’s a bad cough you’ve got there.

MRS. L.: I hope you haven’t caught the new virus thing that’s been going around.

MR. KANE: It’s a bronchial thing, not serious but stubborn, and Dr. Brad’s office is closed.

MRS. KANE: We called on the Paynes.

MR. L.: On who?

MR. KANE: You know the Paynes.

MR. L.: Oh, yes, sure, the Paynes. How are the Paynes doing?

MRS. KANE: Nobody answered the door.

MR. L.: They were probably out.

MRS. KANE: I don’t think they were in.

MRS. L.: People stay in too much, now.

MR. L.: Hmm.

MR. KANE: Elaine here thinks we ought to drive out to Blue Lake.

MR. L.: I was thinking about that, too, and I know an unpaved road that goes to it.

MRS. KANE: It was you that brought up that subject and the hotels on Blue Lake are all shut down till the middle of May.

MR. KANE: We have a wonderful set of camping equipment that I’ve put in order.

MRS. KANE: Yes, just in case.

MR. L.: We’ve got a set, too, and I’ve got it ready, in case.

MRS. L.: We have a lot of tinned goods. You know, sardines and anchovies and.

MR. L.: Salmon and tuna fish and pate and.

MR. KANE: We’ve got a stock of that, too.

MRS. KANE [wryly]: Yes, a big sack of it, in case of sudden hunger on some excursion or other.

MR. L.: I know what you mean. Essentials.

MRS. L.: It’s hard to know what essentials are, exactly.

MR. L.: Essentials are what you discover unexpected need of.

MR. KANE: Such as tinned goods and vacation clothes.

MRS. KANE: Fleece-lined coats and jackets.

MR. KANE: And spare tires in good condition.

MRS. KANE: That’s right. In perfect condition.

MR. KANE: There’s a cold snap tonight.

MRS. KANE: With the harvest moon shining.

MR. KANE: This is the most unpredictable time of the year.

MR. L.: Unpredictable. Yes.

MR. KANE: Completely. I know what you mean.

MRS. KANE [winking at Mrs. L.]: So did I. If I got this hand at bridge, I’d indicate once to my partner and let him take it from there. [Mr. Kane laughs nervously.] Of course I’m no good at bridge.

MR. KANE: You’re pretty damn good at poker.

MR. L.: It’s been too long since we’ve had a good game of poker.

MRS. KANE: That’s right. It seems ages.

MR. L.: Yes, it seems ages and ages, but we’ve all been a little distracted.

MRS. KANE: A little at least.

[There is a pause.]

MR. KANE: What is an abattoir, Jeff?

MR. L.: An abattoir? An abattoir is a sort of a slaughter pen.

MRS. L.: Only for animals?

MR. KANE: Yes, of course, but old Hugh Wayne received a notice that said, “Kindly present yourself tomorrow, before five p.m. to the Municipal Abattoir. If you disregard this summons, a squad car will pick you up.” He showed me this card, this summons, the day he got it, and he’s—

MR. L.: — Not?

MR. KANE: Been seen around since.

MR. L.: We only had the barest speaking acquaintance with old Hugh Wayne. [A dynamite blast rattles the windows.] Hmm.

MR. KANE: Hmm.

MRS. L.: Hmm.

MRS. KANE: The closest one yet.

MRS. L.: It was the strongest one yet.

MR. KANE [abruptly]: The mountains!

MR. L.: What about the mountains?

MR. KANE: We could go to the mountains! Why don’t we go to the mountains?

MR. L.: I hadn’t thought of the mountains but there’s the mountains to go to. And there’s the Sunny Peak Road that almost nobody knows of. Two cars?

MR. KANE: One car!

MR. L.: Yes, we could all fit in one car, not too comfortably, but.

MRS. L.: Let’s think about it, first.

MRS. KANE: It should be regarded as an idea before it’s accepted as a decision.

MR. KANE: You girls are too nervous.

MRS. KANE: You boys are nervous, too.

MR. KANE: We’ve got the responsibility of decisions.

MRS. KANE: Your wives don’t have that responsibility, too?

MR. KANE: Men make decisions.

MRS. KANE: Excuse me for interrupting that male prerogative for a.

MR. KANE: Mountains!

MR. L.: Mountains!

MR. KANE: Let’s decide it right now.

MR. L.: Going to the mountains by the Sunny Peak Road. Hard on the rubber, but.

MR. KANE: Siphon the oil and gas in your Mercedes or our Caddy.

MR. L.: When?

MR. KANE: Now, what’s wrong with right now?

MR. L.: Nothing that I can think of is wrong with an immediate little.

MR. KANE: What do you girls think?

MR. L.: Yes, how do you girls feel about it?

MRS. KANE: I think it’s an inspiration.

MRS. L.: So do I.

MR. KANE: Well, let’s get the siphoning going. Now, right now. [To his wife:] Turn off the lights while we go out the door.

[Mrs. Kane extinguishes the living room lights. The door is heard opening and shutting.]

MRS. KANE: They’re out, now. We can turn the lights back on.

MRS. L.: Oh. Yes. Of course. [The stage is fully lighted again.] — To get to the Sunny Peak Road, wouldn’t we have to go out some fairly well-known highway?

MRS. KANE: I think it might be reasonable to suspect so.

MRS. L.: Wouldn’t there, mightn’t there be some obstruction, some?

MRS. KANE: If that possibility occurred to our masterminds, it didn’t seem to disturb them.

MRS. L.: — No, it didn’t, did it?

MRS. KANE: No, it didn’t.

MRS. L.: Perhaps they thought about it but—

MRS. KANE: What?

MRS. L.: Knew how to get around it.

MRS. KANE: Yes, that could be the reason they didn’t care to discuss it in our presence.

MRS. L.: They don’t want us to be nervous. [A dynamite blast shakes all of the pictures off the walls.] I’m not going to hang those pictures up again.

MRS. KANE: No, I wouldn’t bother. [Slight pause.] What do you really think about this excursion to the mountains?

MRS. L.: It’s a wild idea, but none of us thought of anything else.

MRS. KANE: The plan is to drive to the foot of the mountains, then get out of the car.

MRS. L.: And go on from there on foot.

MRS. KANE: How good are you at mountain climbing, through several feet of snow?

MRS. L.: — I’ve had no experience at it.

MRS. KANE: Neither have I, none at all, whatsoever.

MRS. L.: It’s a desperate thing to consider, but.

MRS. KANE: The children would be better at it than we’d be.

MRS. L.: Hmm?

MRS. KANE: Hmm . . .

[Her eyes narrow: she puts on a pair of heavy shell-rimmed glasses which give her a look of cold sagacity: she peers through them at Mrs. L.’s face which is slowly accumulating an expression of shock.]

MRS. L.: — Hmm!

MRS. KANE: Yes.

MRS. L.: Oh, but, uh—

MRS. KANE: What “uh”?

[Mrs. L. utters a startled, single-note laugh of incomplete disbelief. On this cue, the little girls are heard singing upstairs the marching song of the guerrilla forces which have seized the capital. Tune: “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”]

GIRLS [singing]: “We are crouching in the mountains where the mighty eagles fly, we are waiting in the caverns that are close up to the sky— ”

MRS. KANE: The marching song of the guerrillas. Our girls know it, too, and I’ve learned it from them.

MRS. L. [rushing to staircase]: GIRLS! STOP THAT!

MRS. KANE [slowly, fiercely]: We can’t stop them, you know. Children are creatures that know without knowing, they instinctively know without thinking or knowing, and I think that they know, well, I know that they know that siphoning gas out of one car into another is not a true solution and salvation. And, oh, they know we’re not old, we’re just a lot older than they are, and a generation gap is now a— wide— perpendicular— chasm!

MRS. L.: But they’re dependent on—

MRS. KANE: Not us, now.

MRS. L.: Oh, but they—

MRS. KANE [rising]: The agile, light-footed creatures would glance back once at their clumsy, stumbling parents, maybe call back twice, but soon they’d disappear.

MRS. L.: If we lagged behind?

MRS. KANE: The innocence of savages gives them unlimited visas, expiration date open, valid at any frontier, coming or going. . . . [She removes her heavy-rimmed glasses, brushes fallen plaster off her coat.] I think they know without knowing that we are just an encumbrance.

MRS. L.: Oh, Elaine!

MRS. KANE: Hmm?

MRS. L.: We mustn’t think, we mustn’t— talk like this!

MRS. KANE: Get with it, Jane.

MRS. L.: Oh, but— what?

MRS. KANE: About?

MRS. L.: Us!

MRS. KANE: For myself, I have a different plan, I have something else in mind.

MRS. L.: Another idea than?

MRS. KANE: Yes. Totally. In fact, I’d already made a decision before we came here. That’s why I’ve kept on my coat, this plain gray coat. I have nothing on underneath it. Henry said, “Honey, take off your coat, why don’t you?” And I said, “I feel cold, dear.” Do you want to know my plan?

MRS. L.: Yes, I—

MRS. KANE: You might be interested in it. My plan is to go downtown.

MRS. L.: Are you— ?

MRS. KANE: Serious? Completely. My plan is to go downtown in this plain gray coat and find the headquarters of the general and somehow get to see him.

MRS. L.: What would you— ?

MRS. KANE: Get to see him, I said. Open my coat and say, “Take me.” I’m counting on his being ravenous for a woman, which I think is likely. Before they took the city, they lived in mountain caves, and the general’s still a young man. That’s my plan. How does it impress you?

MRS L.: — Any plan, now, is a— wild thing to consider.

MRS. KANE: Does this plan of mine seem wilder than Henry’s and Jeff’s?

MRS. L.: — No, I—

MRS. KANE: The general has a brother. Handsome. Called “The Panther.”

MRS. L.: — I have a plain— what am I saying?

MRS. KANE: You have a plain coat?

MRS. L.: Yes, I do. It’s right here.

MRS. KANE: Strip off quick. Get into your plain coat. [After a moment’s hesitation, Mrs. L. tears off her clothes and gets into her plain coat.] I know the marching song. Bolt the front door, the siphoning may be finished. We’ll sing the marching song as loud as we can on our way downtown. And look ecstatic over the demolition.

MRS. L. [breathlessly]: All right! I’m ready! I’m with you!

MRS. KANE: We’ll go out the back door and cut across to the boulevard and—

[Mrs. L. pauses a moment to look about the room she won’t see again. She draws a deep breath: then strides purposefully, determinedly, to the dark upstage door, followed by the “cool” Mrs. Kane. They are no sooner offstage than the biggest blast yet precipitates an avalanche of powdery plaster from the ceiling of the room. Dead on this cue, Mr. L. and Mr. Kane charge in the front door, panting like foxhounds in hot pursuit. And dead on that cue, we hear the voices of Mrs. L. and Mrs. Kane singing loudly into the diminuendo of quick distance.

MARCHING SONG:

We are crouching in the mountains where the mighty eagles fly,

We are waiting in the caverns that are close up to the sky,

But without a note of warning, with no trumpet and no drum,

From the peaks of the mountains, will our hungry legions come,

AND OUR TRUTH WILL MAKE US STRONG!

Recognizing the voices of their wives, Mr. L. and Mr. Kane turn to face each other with terrible surmise: as the voices fade in distance, Mr. L. brushes some plaster dust off Mr. Kane’s jacket: a courtesy which Mr. Kane returns as— ]

THE CURTAIN FALLS