Sunday, August 26, 2012

The Medium, Act I

The Medium
An opera in two acts (Act II)

Music and Libretto: Gian Carlo Menotti
 

[Act I: A living room belonging to Baba, a fake medium known professionally as “Madame Flora.” The room has no windows and there are silk wall-hangings and beaded lamps everywhere because everyone knows you can't contact the spirits of the dear departed unless you're in a place that strongly resembles an opium den. There are also astrological charts and a small shrine to the Virgin Mary, which would seem to be contradictory but whatever. There's also a big puppet theater in the corner because why the fuck not. Toby, a young boy who happens to be mute for no reason that's ever explained, is busy dressing himself in Baba's jewelry and scarves from the Fake Gypsy Discount Warehouse.]

The Audience: Wait. This opera has a drag queen? That's awesome.

Me: But at least half the fun of drag queens is listening to them say sassy shit, and Toby's a mute.

The Audience: Hmm. This could present a problem.

Menotti: My plan with this opera was to take a concept with a lot of potential for awesome stuff, and then make everything substantially less awesome in practice. I think it worked out great!

The Audience: Goddammit.

[Monica, Baba's daughter, is over in the corner, wearing something that looks like a wedding dress and playing with a veil. She's presumably somewhere in her teens, but she might have some mild brain damage or something because she spends half the opera acting like she's six goddamn years old.]

Monica: BLAH BLAH RUMPELSTILTSKIN BLAH BLAH I THINK MY LIFE IS A FAIRY TALE

The Audience: … sooo instead of an awesome sassy drag queen, we have to listen to this?

Menotti: Yuuuuup.

The Audience: YOU MADE THE WRONG CHARACTER MUTE YOU ASSHOLE

Menotti: Meh. [shrug]

[Monica notices that Toby is playing pretty princess dress-up.]

Monica: DAMMIT TOBY YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING READY FOR THE SÉANCE

[It's at about this point that the audience starts imagining that Toby can actually talk, and that he also sounds exactly like Lafayette from True Blood.]

Toby: {Bitch, you just jealous 'cause I'm fabulous.}

Monica: If Baba gets home and nothing's ready, she's gonna beat your ass again.

The Audience: Waaaait... an angry white person beating the shit out of someone named Toby? This seems familiar.

Kunta Kinte: Tell me about it.

[Monica starts brushing her hair.]

Monica: La la laaaa crowns and gnomes and queeeeeeens

Toby: {Maybe if you shut your dumb mouth for two minutes you'd be able to get ready faster.}

Monica: TOBY YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME YOU'RE LIKE SOME DUSKY-HUED BABYLONIAN MONARCH

The Audience: … did it just get racist in here?

[Monica hugs Toby.]

Monica: I WOULD TOTALLY MARRY YOU IF YOU WEREN'T DEFECTIVE

Toby: {Hookuh, I'm about to slap the shit outta you.}

[A door slams offstage.]

Monica: OH SHIT BABA'S HOME

The Audience: Yeah, now might be a good time to look like you've actually been getting ready instead of just fucking around.

Monica: Nah, we're good.

[Toby and Monica do absolutely nothing. Baba enters.]

Baba: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU KIDS WHY IS NOTHING READY

Monica: Sorry, Baba; I was reeeeally busy pretending I was the queen of a magical kingdom.

Baba: Oh, for fuck's sake. [to Toby] AND HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STOP WEARING MY GYPSY SHIT

Toby: {You just mad 'cause I look better in it than you do.}

Baba: You look like one of them homos.

The Audience: You know that cross-dressing and homosexuality aren't the same thing, right?

Baba: DON'T SASS ME I'M A PSYCHIC

Monica: You're a fake psychic.

Baba: Shut the fuck up and go get ready. And I swear to god, Toby – if anything goes wrong tonight, I'll skin you alive and use your hide as the world's most grotesque throw-rug.

Monica: So where have you been all night, anyway?

Baba: Where have I been? Money!

The Audience: That doesn't actually answer her question.

Baba: FUCK OFF

Monica: Baba, did you rob the liquor store again?

Baba: God, that was only like... two times. Let it go already.

Monica: It was six times.

Baba: Two, six, whatever. The point is, it's in the past.

Monica: And I'm pretty sure there's still a warrant out for your arrest a couple counties over.

Baba: Water under the bridge! Anyway, that miserly bitch Mrs. Campi still owed us money for contacting the spirit of her dead sister –

Monica: – for pretending to contact the spirit of her dead sister –

Baba: – so I sat on her steps all night until she paid me.

Monica: She paid you? Just like that?

Baba: Yuuuuup.

Monica: And you didn't threaten her or anything?

Baba: … not directly.

[Monica folds her arms.]

Monica: Tell me what you did, Baba.

Baba: Fiiiiine. I may or may not have brought along a can of kerosene and a book of matches.

Monica: DAMMIT BABA YOU CAN'T JUST THREATEN TO BURN DOWN PEOPLE'S HOUSES

Baba: FIRST OF ALL I NEVER TECHNICALLY THREATENED HER AND SECOND OF ALL IT TOTALLY WORKED SO I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'RE MAD

Monica: BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS DO THIS AND SO WE NEVER GET REPEAT CUSTOMERS

Baba: Meh.

Monica: And how could you do that to poor Mrs. Campi? She's practically broke!

Baba: So are we! And if she's so poor, maybe she shouldn't be wasting her money on bullshit séances.

The Audience: You know, that's the first thing she's said that actually makes sense.

Baba: Just stop whining and get dressed already.

[Baba helps Monica put on the veil. Toby draws back the curtain of the puppet theater, revealing a number of hidden switches. One messes with the lights, another levitates the table, and the rest all do similarly spoooooky shit.]

The Audience: Wow. They're not half-assing this, are they.

Baba: I take the art of being a fake psychic very seriously, thank you very much.

[The doorbell rings.]

Baba: SHIT EVERYONE GET READY

[Toby conceals himself inside the puppet theater, and Monica retreats into a hidden room. Baba buzzes the guests in, then sits down at the table and starts playing solitaire.]

The Audience: Solitaire? Is that part of the séance?

Baba: It makes me look mystical or something. Shut up.

[Mr. and Mrs. Gobineau enter and take off their coats. They're followed shortly thereafter by Mrs. Nolan, who looks nervous.]

Mrs. Gobineau: Is this your first time visiting Madame Flora?

Mrs. Nolan: Yeah, I'm kinda freaked out.

Mr. Gobineau: Oh, you'll get used to it. She's really great.

Mrs. Gobineau: So who are you trying to contact?

Mrs. Nolan: My daughter, Doodly.

The Audience: Whoa, hold up. Doodly? What the fuck kind of name is that?

Mrs. Gobineau: I'm sorry... when did she die?

Mrs. Nolan: Last year.

The Audience: Soooo she was still a toddler or something, right? Like, Doodly was just a silly nickname for a little girl?

Mrs. Nolan: … she was only sixteen...

The Audience: Jesus Christ. She probably committed suicide because her heartless bitch of a mother gave her such a stupid fucking name.

[Mrs. Nolan starts to cry.]

Mrs. Nolan: I MISS HER SO MUCH

The Audience: If you really loved her, you would have named her Katherine or something.

Mrs. Nolan: [drying her tears] How long have you been coming to Madame Flora?

Mr. Gobineau: Every week for the past two years. We come to communicate with the spirit of our infant son.

The Audience: Every week? That seems excessive. Dude was like... two years old; it's not like conversation is going to be his strong suit.

Mr. Gobineau: Sometimes we hear him laugh! It's totally worth all the money we've spent.

The Audience: You people are morons.

Baba: Rich morons – and that's the only part I care about!

Mrs. Nolan: How did he die?

Mrs. Gobineau: He drowned in a fountain because I'm a terrible mother and I was picking flowers instead of watching him.

Mr. Gobineau: I'm glad we ended up naming him Mickey instead of Bob, 'cause that would have just been super awkward.

[Mrs. Gobineau starts crying.]

Mr. Gobineau: There, there. It's probably for the best that he didn't live long enough to discover what a loveless sham our marriage is.

Baba: Aaaaaand now that we've gotten all that exposition out of the way –

The Audience: Thanks!

Baba: – it's time to start the séance!

[The Gobineaux join hands while Baba turns out the lights. Mrs. Nolan just sits there and looks nervous.]

Mr. Gobineau: [whispering] we all have to hold hands you stupid bitch

Mrs. Nolan: Oh.

[Mrs. Nolan joins her hands to the circle. Baba pretends to go into a trance and starts humming. Then, suddenly –]

Baba: AAAAHHHRGBLEBLE

Mrs. Nolan: JESUS CHRIST WHAT'S WRONG

[The lights come up on Monica, who is visible in ghostly silhouette through a picture on the wall.]

Monica: … Moooom … Moooooooooooooooom

Mrs. Nolan: Doodly? Is that you?

Monica: Yeah, Mom, it's totally me.

The Audience: That's pretty convenient – but what do they do when someone wants to contact a spirit that's not a teenage girl?

Menotti: She does a pretty good laughing baby impression...

The Audience: And besides that?

Menotti: There's a reason they're practically broke.

The Audience: Fair enough.

Mrs. Gobineau: Go on, Mrs. Nolan – talk to her!

Mrs. Nolan: Oh, Doodly, I've missed you so much! Will Jesus be mad at me for going to a séance and consorting with witches like this?

Monica: Hold on, let me check.

[There is a long pause.]

Monica: Nah, he says it's all good.

Mrs. Nolan: Are you happy? Are you with your father? WHY DID YOU LEAVE MEEE

Monica: Yes, yes, and damn, girl, calm your tits.

Mrs. Nolan: I'M SO ALOOOOONE

Monica: Okay, here's what you need to do. You need to gather all my stuff up into a big pile and set it on fire.

Mrs. Nolan: That... seems a little extreme.

Monica: Bitch, I'm just getting started. You also need to stop visiting my grave, and you have to promise never to cry again. Ever.

Mrs. Nolan: Um...

Monica: Because if you ever cry about anything again, I'm going to send spirits from beyond the grave to torment you.

Mrs. Nolan: [whimpers softly]

Monica: You need to forget about me and move on with your life.

Baba: [muttering] Yeah, I'm the one who's killing our customer return rate.

Monica: So, to summarize: never cry again, never visit my grave, and burn all my shit. Oh, except for the gold locket.

Mrs. Nolan: Gold locket? Doodly didn't have a –

Monica: OH WOW LOOK AT THE TIME I GOTTA GO

[The light on Monica fades out.]

Mrs. Nolan: Was it just me, or did that seem a bit... harsh?

Baba: Shut up and let me continue.

Mr. Gobineau: We now summon the spirit of our beloved son... Mickey.

Baba: Yeah, I don't need your help.

Mr. Gobineau: Sorry.

[Monica's voice is heard again, this time in a child-like giggle.]

Mrs. Gobineau: Hello, Mickey! You sound so happy tonight!

Mr. Gobineau: Daddy loves you, Mickey! Daddy loves you so much more than your neglectful Mommy ever did!

Mrs. Gobineau: [tearing up a little] Don't listen to him, Mickey – Mommy loves you almost as much as she loves abandoning tiny children near bodies of water!

The Audience: Wow. This is just... wow.

[Monica's laughter starts to fade. The Gobineaux wave goodbye to the ghostly voice.]

Mrs. Gobineau: We'll be back to see you next week!

[The room goes silent for a little while. And then –]

Baba: JESUS FUCK WHO TOUCHED ME

Mr. Gobineau: Um... Mrs. Nolan and I were holding your hands...?

Baba: NO NO SOMEONE GRABBED MY THROAT

Mrs. Gobineau: Maybe it was a spirit! I often feel little Mickey touch me on the shoulder during our séances.

Baba: THAT'S STUPID AND SO ARE YOU

Mr. Gobineau: Oh, come on. You're not afraid, are you? You spend your whole life communicating with the spirit world!

Baba: THANKS FOR TELLING ME WHAT I DO FOR A LIVING NOW KINDLY GET THE FUCK OUT

[Baba rushes the Gobineaux and Mrs. Nolan out of the house. Monica comes back into the living room, still dressed in her ghost outfit.]

Monica: What the hell happened?

Baba: [quietly] Get me my sippy cup of whiskey, Monica. Mama needs her medicine.

[Monica gets Baba some booze. Baba starts drinking like a fish.]

Monica: Seriously, though. What's wrong?

Baba: [between gulps] I felt an icy hand on my throat... and it wasn't the hand of a man.

Monica: So it was a woman's hand?

Baba: No. I mean, like... not human.

Monica: So, like... a chimp?

Baba: NO GODDAMMIT I MEAN LIKE A GHOST BUT THAT'S BULLSHIT BECAUSE GHOSTS AREN'T REAL

Monica: Oooookay, someone's had too much to drink.

Baba: MONICA I'M SCAAAAARED

Monica: It's okay, Baba. Just give me the sippy cup.

Baba: NEVER

[She runs over to the puppet theater and pulls back the curtain. Toby is still huddled inside.]

Baba: I'M GOING TO BLAME YOU EVEN THOUGH IT'S OBVIOUS YOU HAVEN'T MOVED THIS WHOLE TIME

Toby: {Bitch, I was taking a nap until you started yelling. Get the hell out of my face.}

Baba: YOU DID IT JUST TO FUCK WITH ME

Monica: Baba, he didn't do anything. Just let it go.

Baba: WE THINK HE'S STUPID JUST BECAUSE HE CAN'T TALK BUT HE'S OBVIOUSLY DEVIOUS BECAUSE OF THE DIRTY GYPSY BLOOD IN HIS VEINS

The Audience: Aaaaand we're back to racism. Awesome.

Baba: SEE HOW HE'S LOOKING AT ME THAT SHIFTY LITTLE BASTARD

Monica: JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN SO I CAN SING YOU THAT GODDAMN LULLABY YOU LOVE SO MUCH

Baba: … 'kay.

[Monica starts singing, and Toby starts accompanying her on the tambourine because why the fuck not.]

Monica: The Queen of Light took her bow
And then she turned to go
The Prince of Peace embraced the gloom
And walked the night aloooooooone

Baba: … is that Led Zeppelin?

Monica: Ohhhhhh, dance in the dark of niiiight
Sing to the morning liiiiiiiiight

Baba: No, not that one. Sing me something else.

Monica: OH BLACK SWAAAAN
WHERE OH WHERE HAS MY LOVER GOOOONE

Natalie Portman: Bitch, I have no goddamn idea. Text him or something and leave my crazy ass out of this.

[Baba, swaying back and forth drunkenly, starts singing along.]

Baba and Monica: SOMETHING SOMETHING CREEPIEST LULLABY EVEEEERRRRRR

Baba: Wait a minute, shut up.

[A voice that sounds eerily like Monica's is heard from offstage, repeating what she said to Mrs. Nolan.]

Creepy Voice: … Moooom … Moooooooooooooooom

Baba: JESUS CHRIST DO YOU HEAR THAT

Monica: Hear what?

[Monica's baby-laugh is also heard.]

Baba: OH SHIT SOMEONE MUST BE HIDING IN THE BACK ROOM

[Toby goes and checks.]

Monica: There's no one else here, Baba. You're either drunk or crazy.

The Audience: Can't it be both?

[Toby comes back.]

Baba: TOBY DID YOU SEE ANYTHING

Toby: [shaking his head] {I don't see nothing except an old-ass drunk lady.}

Baba: YOU'RE LYING I'MA BEAT THE SHIT OUTTA YOU

Monica: GODDAMMIT CALM YOUR TITS

Baba: WE HAVE TO PRAY TO JESUS TO SAVE OUR SOULS

[Baba kneels down in front of the little shrine in the corner.]

Baba: SOMEBODY SAAAAAAAAAAVE MEEEEEEE

About a Quarter of my Blog Readers: A Smallville reference? Seriously?

Me: Fuck off.

Monica: OH BLACK SWAAAAAAAAAAN
WHERE OH WHERE HAS MY MOM'S SOBRIETY GOOOONE

[End of Act I.]

Next installment: Act II 

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Turn of the Screw, Act II

[Reposted from Snark & Son, Inc.]

Previous installment: Act I

Act II, Scene 1: Colloquy and Soliloquy

[Quint and Miss Jessel appear onstage. Since their presence and interaction when no one else is around would suggest pretty definitively that the ghosts are real and not a figment of The Governess' imagination, it's not uncommon for directors to have The Governess appear in the scene before her vocal entrance.]

The Director: Ambiguity!

The Audience: Goddammit.

The Director: Screw you guys; I do what I want.

Miss Jessel: Quiiiiiiiiiint

Quint: The fuck do you want?

Miss Jessel: Quiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiint don't abandon meeeeeee

Quint: Whatever, bitch. Just leave me alone; I'm looking for a friend.

Miss Jessel: I'LL BE YOUR FRIEND

Quint: I'm looking for something more along the lines of a "friend with benefits."

Miss Jessel: I'LL BE YOUR FRIEND WITH BENEFITS

Quint: No offense, but you're not really my type. Vagina is pretty much my kryptonite.

Miss Jessel: But what about our affair?

Quint: I mean... we had our fun and all, but right now I'm more in the market for a discreet, nubile, prepubescent boy.

Britten: Who isn't?

The Audience: GROSS

Britten: Fuck off, haters.

Quint: "I seek a friend -- obedient to follow where I lead, slick as a juggler's mate to catch my thought; proud, curious, agile, he shall feed my mounting power."

The Audience: Wow. Subtlety isn't really your thing, is it.

Miss Jessel: But Quiiiiiint I loooooove youuuuuuu

Quint: Look. If you want to get some action, maybe you could try lezzing it up with Flora. She looks like she'd be into it.

Miss Jessel: ... you know what? I like the way you think.

Quint: So it's decided! We'll both corrupt the children with our seductive whisperings!

The Audience: Wait. Weren't both of you doing that already?

Miss Jessel: Well, yes, but --

The Audience: And furthermore, what exactly is the point of all this?

Quint: I don't understand the question.

The Audience: Like... are you trying to actually possess the children, or are you just trying to corrupt them because you have some sort of ghostly categorical imperative to be complete dicks?

Quint: Uhh....

Miss Jessel: You see, the thing is...

[Awkward silence.]

Britten: IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE AMBIGUOUS

Quint: Yeah. What he said.

The Audience: [exasperated sigh]

Quint and Miss Jessel: GHOST RAPE HIGH FIVE

[The lights come up on The Governess.]

The Governess: Sooooo I've basically just realized that I'm completely useless. And maybe I'm also going crazy? Stay tuned to find out!

Scene 2: The Bells

[The scene changes to a church next to a graveyard because everything in this opera has to be at least a little creepy. Miles and Flora enter, singing a hymn, and sit on a grave.]

Britten: SYMBOLISM

The Audience: Yeah, thanks for the heads-up.

Miles and Flora: PRAISE YE THE LORD, BITCHES

[The Governess and Mrs. Grose enter.]

The Governess: WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY SO CREEPY

Miles and Flora: Praise ye the Lord, cute fluffy animals!

Mrs. Grose: Um... they're just singing a hymn. Are you okay?

The Governess: Hell no, I'm not okay. There's something wrong with the children. They're being so... unnaturally good!

Mrs. Grose: So let me get this straight. You're complaining because they're not screaming and fighting and breaking the furniture?

The Governess: YES

Mrs. Grose: Yeah, you're fucking insane.

The Audience: I know, right?

The Governess: Just listen to them -- they're speaking horrors!

Miles and Flora: The Beast and his armies will rise from the pit to make war against God.

The Governess: THERE DID YOU HEAR THAT

Mrs. Grose: Hear what?

Miles and Flora: Praise ye the Lord, adorable chirpy songbirds!

The Governess: NO YOU LYING LITTLE BASTARDS

Mrs. Grose: Um.... yeah. I think you need to lie down. Maybe take a Xanax or something.

The Governess: I'm telling you, they're in the thrall of those fucking ectoplasmic pedophiles!

Mrs. Grose: Quint and Whatshername?

The Governess: EXACTLY

Mrs. Grose: Welllllllll if the only side-effect is that Miles and Flora start being unnaturally well-behaved, maybe it's not actually that much of a problem.

The Governess: NOOO THEIR SOULS ARE IN DANGER

Mrs. Grose: Okay, so maybe you should write to their uncle.

The Governess: I can't! Uncle Hotpants said that I wasn't to disturb him under any circumstances.

Mrs. Grose: ... Uncle Hotpants?

The Governess: SHUT UP I HAVEN'T HAD SEX IN FOREVER

Mrs. Grose: Yeah, I can tell. If you want my opinion, you should just keep ignoring the problem and it'll go away!

Miles and Flora: PRAISE YE THE LOOOORD

[Mrs. Grose takes Flora into the church. Miles comes over to The Governess.]

Miles: Sooooo can I ever go back to school, or are you just gonna keep tutoring me at home forever?

The Governess: Why would you ever want to go back to school? Don't you loooove meeeeee?

The Audience: Wow. Bitch be clingy.

Miles: I want to be around other kids. Preferably ones who aren't related to me.

The Governess: If I let you go back to school, will there be any more noodle incidents?

Miles: Maaaybe. So are you going to tell my uncle about the ghosts?

The Governess: Wait, what?

Miles: Nothing. PRAISE YE THE LOOOOORD

[Miles goes into the church.]

The Governess: OH SHIT THE GHOSTS KNOW ABOUT MY PLAN I HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE

Scene 3: Miss Jessel

[Back in the schoolroom. The Governess enters to find Miss Jessel sitting at her desk.]

The Governess: JESUS FUCK WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

Miss Jessel: BITCH I WAS HERE FIRST

The Governess: BITCH YOU'RE DEAD SO GTFO

Miss Jessel: I'M NEVER GONNA LEAVE AND ALSO I'M GONNA MOLEST FLORA

The Governess: NUH-UH THESE ARE MY CHILDREN AND THIS IS MY DESK SO YOU CAN JUST FUCK RIGHT OFF

Miss Jessel: ... 'kay.

[Miss Jessel disappears.]

The Governess: Well, I guess I can't actually abandon the children after all. Time to write to their uncle!

[She gets out some paper and a pen.]

The Governess: [writing] Dear Sir,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I'm just writing to see how you're doing and also to tell you that your niece and nephew are possessed by ghosts or some shit so maybe you should do something but I have no idea what.
Sincerely,
That Nameless Lady You Hired to Take Care of the Children.

[She seals the letter.]

The Governess: Soooo I think I'll just leave it here on the desk. What could go wrong?

Scene 4: The Bedroom

[Miles is sitting in his bedroom with his shoes off. The room is lit by a candle.]

Miles: Nimium laboris sine ludis Miles taediousum puerum facit.
Nimium laboris sine ludis Miles taediousum puerum facit.
Nimium laboris sine ludis Miles taediousum puerum facit...
COME IN, GOVERNESS

[The Governess enters.]

The Governess: Why aren't you asleep yet, Miles?

Miles: Good question. I'll answer with another one: why the hell are you creeping around my bedroom door in the middle of the night?

The Audience: Yeah, it's a little molest-y.

The Governess: I was just checking to make sure you children were all right and not wandering around the garden again.

Miles: Whatever. If you want a little somethin'-somethin', all you have to do is ask.

The Audience: ... ew.

Miles: Also, I'm going to call you "my dear" from now on and start acting sexually aggressive. Sound good?

The Governess: Huh. Is it wrong that I'm a little turned on right now?

The Audience: YES

The Governess: In any case, I've just written a letter to your uncle. It's just sitting out in the open on my desk, where I'm sure nothing will happen to it.

Miles: Duly noted.

The Governess: So, I just want to know... is there anything you want to tell me?

Miles: About what?

The Governess: Oh, I don't know... maybe about ghosts? Or pedophiles?

Quint: [offstage] MILES DON'T TELL HER SHIT

Miles: Nothing springs to mind.

The Governess: Maybe about what happened at school? Or what happened here before I arrived?

Quint: KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT MILES SHE'S A FUCKING NARC

Miles: Nope. I'm good.

[The candle goes out.]

The Governess: HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHO DID THAT

Miles: Calm your tits, bitch. I blew it out.

The Governess: Oh. Well, that was anticlimactic.

The Audience: I know, right?

Scene 5: Quint

[Quint appears.]

Quint: MILES SHE'S WRITTEN A LETTER TO YOUR UNCLE AND SHE'S GOING TO TELL HIM EVERYTHING AND RUIN ALL OUR FUN SO I THINK YOU SHOULD STEAL THE LETTER AND HIDE IT

Miles: Sounds reasonable.

[Miles creeps into the schoolroom and steals the letter from the desk.]

Scene 6: The Piano

The Audience: Wait, what happened to Scene 5? Was that it?

Britten: Yuuuuuup.

[Miles is playing the piano while The Governess and Mrs. Grose listen. Flora is sitting by herself and playing cat's cradle because neither of her caretakers give a shit about anything she does.]

The Governess: THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL MILES

Mrs. Grose: PLAY IT AGAIN

The Governess: YOU'RE SO SMART AND HANDSOME

Flora: [holding up her strings] Look what I can do!

The Governess and Mrs. Grose: SHUT UP FLORA WE WEREN'T TALKING TO YOU

[The Governess takes Mrs. Grose aside.]

The Governess: [whispering] The eagle is in the nest. I repeat, the eagle is in the nest.

Mrs. Grose: I have no idea what the fuck that's supposed to mean.

The Governess: It means that I wrote a letter to the children's uncle, but I didn't want to say it out loud because GHOSTS

Mrs. Grose: You really need to get yourself some medication.

The Governess: Shut up. Just mail it for me, would you? It's on my desk in the schoolroom.

Mrs. Grose: Why don't you do it yourself?

The Governess: Don't be ridiculous. If I mailed it myself, I would have some sort of assurance that it was actually going to reach its intended destination!

The Audience: [facepalm]

Miles: What are you guys talking about?

The Governess: NOTHING AT ALL JUST KEEP PLAYING

Flora: WILL ONE OF YOU BITCHES PAY ATTENTION TO ME

Mrs. Grose: [sighing] Fiiiiiine.

[Mrs. Grose goes over and joins Flora.]

Mrs. Grose and Flora: WOOOO CAT'S CRADLE

Flora: Hey, Mrs. Grose -- could you do me a favor and look deep into my eyes for a second?

Mrs. Grose: I don't see why not.

Flora: You're getting very sleepy. I think you should take a nap.

Mrs. Grose: Sounds like a plan.

[Mrs. Grose falls asleep and Flora slips out of the room.]

The Audience: Okay, we know she's possessed and evil or whatever, but that hypnotism shit was actually pretty badass.

[The Governess looks around.]

The Governess: OH SHIT FLORA'S GONE

The Audience: Someone needs to tell her that she's a terrible governess.

The Governess: MRS. GROSE WAKE YOUR OLD ASS UP WE HAVE TO GO FIND FLORA

Mrs. Grose: So we're both going to look for the one child and just leave the other one alone at home?

The Governess: Fuck Miles; he's evil now. He was playing fancy shit on the piano to distract me while Flora left.

Mrs. Grose: I mean, we could take him along with us. That might be safer.

The Governess: NO

[Mrs. Grose and The Governess rush out. Miles smiles like the deranged little bastard he is and starts playing the Twilight Zone theme.]

Scene 7: Flora

[Back by the lake. Flora really fucking loves it out there, apparently.]

The Governess: [offstage] FLORA WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU

[The Governess and Mrs. Grose enter and find Flora standing by the water.]

Mrs. Grose: There you are! We've been worried sick!

The Governess: I KNOW YOU'RE IN LEAGUE WITH THE GHOSTS YOU LITTLE BITCH

Mrs. Grose: ... some of us more so than others...

[Miss Jessel appears on the other side of the lake.]

The Governess: AAAHHH IT'S MISS JESSEL

Mrs. Grose: Where?

Miss Jessel: Flooooooraaaaaaaa

The Governess: DON'T YOU SEE HER SHE'S RIGHT THERE

Mrs. Grose: Um... there's no one else here.

The Governess: NO SHE'S TOTALLY HERE

Mrs. Grose: Oooookay. I think you need to have a nice long chat with some men in white coats.

The Governess: FLORA YOU SEE HER DON'T YOU

Miss Jessel: Nooooo Flooooraaaa don't say anythiiiiiiing

Flora: Nope. I can't see shit.

Mrs. Grose: It's okay, sweetheart; no one's there. The Governess is just going crazy and babbling about ghosts.

The Governess: BITCH YOU WERE THE ONE WHO TOLD ME THERE WERE GHOSTS IN THE FIRST PLACE

Mrs. Grose: I have no idea what you're talking about.

The Governess: OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE

The Audience: Hey, maybe Mrs. Grose is working with the ghosts!

M. Night Shyamalan: Or maybe she's a ghost too! Maybe they've all been dead this whole time!

The Audience: SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU HAVEN'T HAD A GOOD IDEA IN YEARS

The Governess: Seriously, Flora. I know you can see Miss Jessel too, so STOP LYING

Flora: SOMEBODY GET THIS CRAZY WOMAN AWAY FROM ME

Mrs. Grose: Yeah, maybe it's time to take you home.

The Governess: TELL ME YOU CAN SEE MISS JESSEL

Flora: I CAN'T SEE A DAMN THING AND ALSO I HATE YOU

[Mrs. Grose takes Flora away and Miss Jessel disappears.]

The Governess: Soooo Flora is clearly a lost cause and her soul is doomed to damnation, but I think I'm going to be more upset about the fact that she said she hates me!

The Audience: Yeah, you're a fucking nutcase.

Scene 8: Miles

[The Governess arrives back at the house to find Mrs. Grose and Flora in their traveling clothes.]

The Governess: Are you guys going somewhere?

Mrs. Grose: Yeah, I'm taking her the hell away from here. You were totally right, by the way. Ghosts. Possession. Evil.

The Governess: What changed your mind?

Mrs. Grose: Flora... said some things to me. Some horrible things.

The Governess: Like what?

[Mrs. Grose whispers something in The Governess' ear. The Governess promptly projectile vomits all over the stage.]

The Governess: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

Mrs. Grose: Yeah. I know.

The Governess: Take her to Uncle Hotpants! He should have received my letter by now, so he'll know what to do.

Mrs. Grose: First of all, you dumb bitch, it's been less than an hour since you told me to mail your letter, which is definitely not enough time for it to reach London. Second, I never sent the damn letter in the first place because it wasn't where you said it was.

The Governess: Son of a bitch. MIIIILES GET YOUR ASS IN HERE

Mrs. Grose: Okay, we're leaving. Have fun with your final confrontation or whatever.

[Mrs. Grose leaves with Flora.]

The Governess: Soooo I failed Flora, but maybe I can save Miles! One out of two isn't bad.

[Miles enters.]

Miles: Hey, baby. Looks like we're alone at last. Wanna bang?

The Governess: Miles, you know I love you --

The Audience: In a kinda oppressive, controlling way...

The Governess: -- but we're just friends. No banging.

Miles: How about makeouts?

The Governess: Nnnnnnope. So hey, did you steal my letter?

Quint: [offstage] DON'T TELL HER ANYTHING

Miles: Um...

[Quint appears.]

Quint: SHE'S TRICKSY AND WE HATES HER

The Governess: It's okay; you can tell me.

Miles: Yeah, I stole the letter.

Quint: GODDAMMIT MILES

The Governess: And why did you take it?

Miles: To see what sort of mean shit you said about us.

Quint: MILES YOU'RE MIIIIIIIINE

The Governess: Did someone tell you to take it? Someone like... a ghost?

Quint: NO NO NO

Miles: Maybe.

The Governess: Tell me his name! All you have to do is speak his name and he'll never bother you again!

The Audience: Really? That would have been useful information back in Act I.

The Governess: Shut up.

The Audience: Also, when exactly did you become an expert on how to exorcise ghosts?

The Governess: I SAID SHUT UP

Quint: MILES YOU LITTLE BASTARD IF YOU SNITCH ON ME I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU

The Governess: JUST SAY HIS NAAAAME

Miles: PEEETER QUIIIIIIIIINT

Quint: GODDAMMIT

[Quint disappears. Miles runs to The Governess and they hug.]

The Governess: Yaaaaaaaay now everything will be happy and wonderful forever!

[She looks down and notices that Miles is dead.]

The Governess: ... son of a BITCH.

The Audience: Wait, what? That makes no goddamn sense. Did she smother him or something?

Britten: STOP ASKING QUESTIONS

The Audience: No, but really. Why is he dead now?

Britten: Because fuck you, that's why.

[The Governess cradles Miles' lifeless body and starts crying.]

The Governess: Nimium laboris sine ludis Miles taediousum puerum facit.
Nimium laboris sine ludis Miles taediousum puerum facit.
Nimium laboris sine ludis Miles taediousum puerum facit.
Nimium laboris sine ludis Miles taediousum puerum faaaaciiiiiiit

The Audience: Jesus Christ.

Britten: The moral of the story is that homosexuals are dangerous and associating with them will lead to your death!

The Audience: But... weren't you gay?

Britten: SHUT UP

[End of the opera.]