Amahl and the Night Visitors

Amahl and the Night Visitors
An opera in one act

Music and Libretto: Gian Carlo Menotti
 

[The opera is set somewhere in ancient Judea, with a star in the sky that looks suspiciously like it might be hanging over Bethlehem. Most of the action centers around a dilapidated hovel inhabited by a mother and her child. Amahl, the aforementioned child, is an obnoxious eleven-year-old boy who enjoys playing his shepherd's pipes (not a euphemism) and being a pathological liar. Also, he's crippled and he needs a crutch to walk.]

Charles Dickens: Oh wow, a crippled kid in a story about Christmas. I can't believe no one's ever thought of that before.

Menotti: Fuck off.

[And while we're handing out tragic illnesses, it should probably be mentioned that Amahl's mother – who is never given a real name because of course not – has a terminal case of being a complete bitch.]

Mother: AMAHL

Amahl: [sitting outside] WHAT

Mother: COME INSIDE

Amahl: 'KAY

[And then he goes back to doing exactly what he was doing before – in short, playing his pipes and giving zero fucks.]

Mother: AMAHL

Amahl: WHAT

Mother: I CAN HEAR YOU PLAYING YOUR PIPES SO I KNOW YOU'RE NOT COMING INSIDE

Amahl: OKAY I'M PUTTING THEM AWAY NOW AND COMING IN

Mother: GOOD

[Amahl immediately resumes his playing.]

Mother: YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE

Amahl: trololololol

[She opens the door and steps out.]

Mother: COME INSIDE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU

Amahl: But Mooooooom I want to stay outsiiiiiide

Mother: It's cold and dark and it's getting late.

Amahl: But I want to keep looking at the skyyyyy

Mother: If you keep talking back to me, I swear to God I will curbstomp the shit out of you.

Amahl: Fiiiine.

[He begins the laborious process of getting his crutch, getting up, and hobbling inside.]

The Audience: Any time now.

[Amahl moves two more steps.]

The Audience: No, really. It's not like we have anything better to do.

[Amahl finally gets back into the house. His mother shuts the door behind them both.]

Mother: Sooo why did you feel the need to be such a little douche tonight?

Amahl: THERE'S THIS BIG STAR IN THE SKY AND IT'S REALLY COOL

Mother: FOR FUCK'S SAKE WILL YOU STOP TELLING LIES

Amahl: I'M NOT LYING

Mother: YOU TOTALLY ARE BECAUSE YOU LIE ALL THE TIME

Amahl: YOU CAN LITERALLY SEE IT OUT THE WINDOW JUST GO LOOK

Mother: NOPE I'M NOT FALLING FOR ANY OF YOUR SHIT EVER AGAIN

The Audience: It's actually there, though.

Mother: SHUT UP

The Audience: Just sayin'.

Mother: You wouldn't believe the shit that this little bastard tells me – and most of the time, he doesn't even bother trying to make it sound believable!

The Audience: Like what?

Mother: Like the time he told me he saw a jungle cat with a woman's head. Or the time he told me that he saw a tree that was screaming and bleeding profusely. Or the time he told me about the giant catfish with wings and horns that was terrorizing a small fishing village on the coast.

SyFy Channel Executives: Aaaand we just got our idea for our next original movie... "Batfish: Rivers of Blood."

Mother: Whatever. The point is, everything that comes out of the little bastard's mouth is a lie.

The Audience: Yeah, but compared with the rest of that shit, isn't "there's a really bright star in the sky" pretty believable?

Mother: HE'S A LYING LIAR SO SHUT UP

Amahl: I'm not lying! I swear!

Mother: OH GOD HE THINKS HE'S TELLING THE TRUTH

Amahl: Because I am.

Mother: HUSH MY SWEET CHILD; HUNGER HAS CLEARLY ADDLED YOUR BRAINS

Amahl: But –

Mother: WE'LL HAVE TO GO BEGGING IF WE WANT TO STAY ALIVE

[Amahl shrugs.]

Amahl: Sure, whatever.

Mother: [starting to sob] IT'S SO SHAMEFUL

The Audience: Well, let's see... you can either keep your dignity or not starve to death. Yeah, that's a tough choice.

Amahl: It's okay, Mom! I'm gonna be the bestest beggar ever and I'll play my pipes and you'll sing and dance and everyone will give us food and money and everything will be awesome forever!

Mother: Aw, that's so sweet.

Amahl: Actually, I was just lying to make you feel better. We're pretty much fucked.

Mother: Shut up and go to sleep.

[They lie down and close their eyes. Soon, a trio of voices can be heard in the distance.]

A Trio of Voices: HOLY SHIT WE'RE SO TIRED

[Three kings walk onstage, each carrying a gift of some sort. They're followed by a page, who's carrying the rest of their shit.]

The Three Kings: ARE WE THERE YET

The Audience: Wait. Are these the actual three kings? Like... on their way to visit the baby Jesus?

Menotti: Yuuuup.

The Audience: Oh, god. This isn't an opera; it's a fucking greeting card.

The Three Kings: DEAR GOD WE JUST WANT TO REST AND STOP FOLLOWING THIS STUPID STAR FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES

[They see the decrepit old hovel and decide to stop there. Melchior, the first king, knocks on the door.]

Mother: [half-asleep] Amahl, go see who the fuck is knocking on our door in the middle of the night.

[Amahl gets his crutch, gets up, and hobbles to the door.]

The Audience: Seriously? He can barely walk. Do it yourself, you lazy bitch.

[Amahl opens the door, sees Melchior, and slams the door with a gasp of surprise.]

Amahl: HOLY CRAP MOM THERE'S A KING OUTSIDE

Mother: Stop being a lying piece of shit.

Amahl: But Mooooooom it's truuuuuuue

Mother: Not buying it.

[The kings have switched places outside. Kaspar, the second king, knocks on the door.]

Mother: Just answer the door and stop being a jackass.

[Amahl opens the door, sees Kaspar, and loses his shit.]

The Door: [slam]

Amahl: HOLY CRAP MOM THERE ARE TWO KINGS OUTSIDE

Mother: If you keep lying to me, I'm going to break your other leg.

Amahl: [whimpers]

[The kings have switched places again. Balthazar, the third king, knocks on the door. Only this time it's different, because – ]

Amahl: HOLY FUCKING SHIT MOM THERE'S A BLACK KING OUTSIDE

Mother: Don't be ridiculous, Amahl; black people can't occupy positions of power. That's what we like to call "The White Man's Burden!"

Amahl: But we're not white either. We're Palestinian or something.

Mother: ARE YOU SASSING ME

Amahl: No, mother.

Mother: Good. Since you're too busy being an idiot, I'll just answer the door myself.

The Audience: Like you should have in the first place.

Mother: Fuck off.

[She gets up and opens the door.]

The Three Kings: HIIIII

Mother: HOLY SHIT

Amahl: Told you so.

Mother: Don't be a dick. [to the kings] Can I help you?

Melchior: Can we take a nap in your house? We've been walking for like... forever.

Mother: If you're so rich, shouldn't you have some mode of transportation? Like camels or horses or palanquins carried by broad-shouldered eunuchs?

Balthazar: It's cheaper to travel on foot. These gifts we're carrying were pretty expensive.

Mother: I see. Well, I'm just a poor, starving widow with a crippled son, but you're welcome to stay in my humble home for a little while.

Melchior: Thanks!

Mother: And maybe you could toss a couple coins my way to pay me for my trouble?

Melchior: Nnnnope. Come on in, boys!

Kaspar: WHAT WAS THAT I DIDN'T HEAR IT BECAUSE I AM DEAF

Menotti: And deaf people are hilarious! Almost as funny as the idea of a black king, amirite?

The Audience: You're a douche.

[The page hurries into the house and unrolls a carpet for them to walk in on, even though they've been walking across dirt and rocks and sand for god knows how long. Seriously, it's kinda pointless. The kings proceed into the house one by one and sit down together on a bench.]

Melchior: This place is a shithole.

Mother: Poor, starving widow, remember?

Melchior: Oh, right. I guess it's okay.

Mother: Fuck you too. I have to go gather firewood so we don't freeze to death, but I'll be back soon. [to Amahl] Don't be obnoxious, okay?

Amahl: Of course not, mother.

[She leaves.]

Amahl: HEY MISTER BLACK GUY ARE YOU A REAL KING BECAUSE MY MOM SAYS BLACK PEOPLE CAN'T BE KINGS

Balthazar: Your mom's a bitch. And yes, I'm a real king.

Amahl: DO YOU HAVE ROYAL BLOOD AND STUFF

Balthazar: By definition, yes.

Amahl: CAN I SEE IT

Balthazar: Hell no. Go away.

Amahl: WHERE DO YOU LIIIIVE

Menotti: And while you're answering this question, could you say “black” as many times as possible?

Balthazar: I live in a palace –

Menotti: – a black palace –

Balthazar: – and I own some panthers –

Menotti: – which are a slightly darker black –

Balthazar: – and also some doves.

Menotti: – which are the opposite of black. Black black blacky black black.

The Audience: YES WE GET IT

Balthazar: Can I stop talking now?

Amahl: SURE AND NOW I CAN TELL YOU ALLLLLL ABOUT ME

Balthazar: Oh joy.

Amahl: I USED TO HAVE SOME SHEEP BUT MY MOM SOLD THEM AND I USED TO HAVE A GOAT BUT SHE DIED AND I USED TO HAVE A DAD BUT HE DIED TOO AND NOW MOM BRINGS HOME A SPECIAL FRIEND SOMETIMES BUT SHE MAKES ME GO OUTSIDE WHEN HE COMES OVER AND THEN I HEAR WEIRD NOISES COMING FROM THE HOUSE AND –

Balthazar: Aaaand that's way too much information. Go bother the deaf guy for a while.

Amahl: 'Kay.

[He approaches Kaspar.]

Amahl: Are you a real king too?

Kaspar: SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU

Menotti: Oh, man. Comedy gold.

The Audience: [facepalm]

Amahl: I ASKED IF YOU'RE A REAL KING

Kaspar: YES I AM AT LEAST I WAS THE LAST TIME I CHECKED

[The conversation continues along the following lines:]

Amahl: Stupid question!

Kaspar: Confused noise?

Amahl: THE SAME QUESTION BUT LOUDER THIS TIME

Kaspar: Response!

[And that formula repeats itself about fifty goddamn times.]

Menotti: It's not actually fifty times.

Me: But it sure feels like it!

[Finally, Amahl points to a box sitting next to Kaspar.]

Amahl: What the hell is that?

Kaspar: THIS IS MY BOX AND IT IS THE BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE BOXES AND I NEVER GO ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY BOX BECAUSE IT IS JUST SO BOXTASTIC AND I KEEP ALL MY FAVORITE THINGS IN THIS BOX LIKE MAGIC GEMSTONES AND BEADS AND ESPECIALLY LICORICE –

Menotti: Black licorice!

The Audience: FUCK OFF

Kaspar: – AND YOU SHOULD EAT SOME OF THIS LICORICE BECAUSE CANDY ALWAYS TASTES BETTER WHEN IT'S FROM STRANGERS

Amahl: OKAY

[He takes a piece of licorice and starts eating it just as his mother returns.]

Mother: GODDAMMIT AMAHL I TOLD YOU NOT TO BE OBNOXIOUS

Amahl: BUT I WASN'T

Balthazar: Yeah, you were.

Mother: Whatever. Just go and find the other shepherds and tell them to bring some food for our guests!

The Audience: So you want the child with a reputation for being a pathological liar to go and tell your neighbors that there are three kings staying at your house?

Mother: Of course. What could go wrong?

The Audience: [sigh]

[Amahl hobbles off into the night, while his mother admires all the shiny stuff the kings are traveling with.]

Mother: That's a lot of gold.

Melchior: Yuuuup.

Mother: Do you really need all of it? And did I mention that my son and I are penniless and starving?

Melchior: We can't spare a cent. It all has to go to the child.

Mother: And who is this child, exactly...?

Melchior: We don't really know. We're just following the star.

Mother: I see. Well, maybe I can help you out!

Melchior: I sincerely doubt it.

Mother: Oh, come on. How hard could it be?

Melchior: Okay. We're looking for a child who's the color of wheat.

Mother: That's not very specific.

Melchior: He could also be the color of dawn.

Mother: So, like... pinkish-red?

The Audience: Well, you know what they say – “Red savior at morning, sinners take warning...”

Menotti: Shut up.

Mother: In any case, I know a kid who looks just like that.

Melchior: Who?

Mother: My son! Your journey's at an end! Leave all the gold and frankincense and myrrh with us!

Melchior: Not gonna happen. Help me out, Balthazar.

Balthazar: He's the color of earth. Or maybe of thorns.

Mother: You're just naming weird colors. You have no idea what he looks like, do you.

Balthazar: Yes, we do. We totally do.

Mother: Okay. Height? Weight? Body type? Facial structure?

Melchior: Um... he can command the elements?

Kaspar: And he controls the sun and moon!

Balthazar: And he can tame animals with his mind.

Mother: Now you're just making shit up.

The Three Kings: HE'S SURROUNDED BY A LEGION OF ANGELS AND HIS MOTHER IS BOTH A VIRGIN AND A QUEEN

The Audience: … Queen Elizabeth gave birth to Jesus?

Mother: I'M STILL PRETTY SURE THAT MY SON IS THE KID YOU'RE LOOKING FOR SO PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR SHINY EXPENSIVE STUFF

The Three Kings: NNNNOPE

Chorus of Shepherds: [offstage] WE ARE A CHORUS OF SHEPHERDS

Mother: The shepherds are coming!

Melchior: Yeah, we got that. We're not deaf, you know.

Balthazar: [coughs awkwardly]

Melchior: Uh... right. Except for Kaspar.

Balthazar: Yeah. It's kind of a problem.

Kaspar: WHAT DID YOU SAY

Balthazar: Nothing.

[And then the chorus of shepherds makes its entrance, led by Amahl. They all seem to be afflicted with some sort of obsessive personality disorder where they can't stop making lists, because they pretty much just sing a bunch of names for about six pages of music.]

Chorus of Shepherds: EMILY MICHAEL BARTHOLOMEW JOSEPHINE ANGELA JEREMY ETHEL ELAINE PATTI BERNADETTE GEORGE BILL GEORGE JUNIOR BARACK ROSE MARTHA DONNA AMY

The Audience: GET TO THE POINT

Chorus of Shepherds: HOW ARE YOU WE'RE DOING FINE OH THAT'S WONDERFUL

[They reach the house and stare through the open door at the kings.]

Chorus of Shepherds: oooohhhhhh ahhhhhhhh

Mother: GIVE US YOUR FOOD

[And then the list-making starts again.]

Chorus of Shepherds: HERE IS ALL THE STUFF WE BROUGHT THERE'S SOME OLIVES AND QUINCES AND RAISINS AND NUTMEG AND CARDAMOM AND TEA LEAVES AND PORK RINDS AND TURDUCKEN AND JUICY JUICE AND GO-GURT AND POWERADE AND PROTEIN SHAKE MIX AND JELL-O PUDDING

Melchior: holy shit that's a lot of food

Chorus: EAT IT EAT IT ALL RIGHT NOW

Mother: Doesn't anyone want to dance for the kings?

Balthazar: That's really not necessary.

Mother: SOMEONE DO A DANCE RIGHT FUCKING NOW

[So then some shepherds do a dance.]

Balthazar: Ooookay. Well, thanks for the food and the entertainment, but we really need to go to sleep.

Chorus of Shepherds: OKAY SWEET DREAMS

[They all leave. Amahl and the kings and the page (remember him?) go to sleep, but Amahl's mother stays awake.]

Mother: THOSE FUCKERS HAVE SO MUCH GOLD AND THEY WON'T EVEN SHARE AND THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE POOR AND STARVING BECAUSE THEY'RE SNOOTY RICH BASTARDS

The Audience: Occupy Judea!

Mother: I COULD FEED MYSELF AND MY SON FOR A YEAR WITH A HANDFUL OF THAT GOLD SO I THINK I'M JUST GOING TO TAKE SOME BECAUSE WHAT COULD GO WRONG

[She takes some of the gold.]

The Page: THIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEFFFFFFFFFFF

Mother: Oh. That's what could go wrong.

[The page jumps on the mother and starts trying to wrestle the gold out of her hands.]

The Three Kings: [waking up] WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

The Page: SHE TOOK SOME OF OUR JESUS-GOLD

The Three Kings: WHAT A BITCH

Amahl: [hobbling over] GET THE FUCK OFF MY MOM YOU CARPET-CARRYING FUCK

The Page: MAKE ME

Amahl: [turning to the kings] Please don't let him hurt my mom! She's a nice lady when she's not stealing shit from unsuspecting guests! [turning back] I WILL WRECK YOUR SHIT IF YOU DON'T LET MY MOM GO RIGHT FUCKING NOW

[At a sign from one of the kings, the page releases Amahl's mother. She and Amahl collapse in a whimpering heap on the floor.]

Melchior: Look, you can keep the gold. This new savior doesn't need money or anything, because he's going to build his kingdom on love and smiles and rainbows!

The Audience: So... if you know he doesn't need your money, why the fuck are you lugging that heavy-ass chest to Bethlehem?

Melchior: Huh. You know, I really should have thought that through before we left.

The Audience: Yuuup.

Melchior: Whatever. In any case – the new savior loves poor people, so have fun with your ill-gotten money. [to the other kings] Let's get the hell out of here.

Mother: Actually, I think I'll give the gold back – but only because you were pretty passive-aggressive there and it made me feel kinda bad.

Menotti: And that was the first recorded instance of Catholic guilt.

The Audience: And by “first recorded instance,” you mean “I just made that up.”

Menotti: Yeah, pretty much.

Amahl: This new savior sounds pretty cool! Let's send him my crutch, just in case he's a cripple like me!

Mother: That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You need your crutch to walk, moron.

[But in his excitement, Amahl has gotten up and is walking without the crutch!]

Mother: Whaaaaaaaaat

The Three Kings: oh snap

Amahl: HOLY SHIT I CAN WALK

Mother: HOLY SHIT YOU CAN WALK

The Three Kings: HOLY SHIT IT'S A MIRACLE

[And everyone dances around in jubilation.]

The Audience: Sooo Baby Jesus cured him or something?

Menotti: Because of his selfless concern for someone he had never met!

The Audience: Either that, or Amahl was just lying about being crippled to get attention.

Menotti: SHUT UP IT WAS TOTALLY A MIRACLE

The Three Kings: O BLESSED CHILD CAN WE TOUCH YOU

The Audience: Gross.

The Three Kings: YOU KNOW IN A TOTALLY SPIRITUAL WAY OR WHATEVER

Amahl: Sure, knock yourselves out.

The Page: CAN I TOUCH YOU TOO

Amahl: Fuck you.

Mother: Be nice, Amahl.

Amahl: Fiiiine, he can touch me. But keep it above the belt, perv.

[The page touches Amahl.]

Amahl: OH MAN I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT ALL THE STUFF I CAN DO NOW THAT I CAN WALK

Everyone Else: YEAH IT'S PRETTY COOL

Amahl: HEY MOM CAN I TRAVEL WITH THE KINGS TO MEET THIS CRAZY GOD-BABY OR WHATEVER

Balthazar: Wait, what?

Melchior: Yeah, we don't actually want him to come along with us.

Kaspar: WHAT DID HE SAY

Melchior: HE SAID HE WANTS TO COME WITH US

Kaspar: OH FUCK NO HE'S ANNOYING AS SHIT

Amahl: SCREW YOU GUYS I'M A MIRACLE CHILD AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT

Melchior: Fiiine, you can come.

Balthazar: Just try not to get yourself eaten by wild animals.

Amahl: YAAAAY

Mother: I don't know...

Amahl: PLEEEEASE

Mother: Okay, fine.

Amahl: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Mother: But don't forget to wash your ears and wear your hat and be a good boy!

Amahl: And can you take care of my cat while I'm away?

Mother: You don't have a cat anymore. I put him in the stew last week because we were about to starve to death.

Amahl: YOU TOLD ME HE WAS OUT HUNTING

Mother: Yeah, well... I lied. Deal with it.

Melchior: Oooookay. And with that awkward bit of family interaction completed, LET'S GET GOING

[The kings and the page process out of the house. Amahl gives his mother a last hug before running after the others. He starts playing his pipe in the distance, and his mother stares up at the star in the sky.]

Menotti: ISN'T IT HEARTWARMING

The Audience: Sure, except for the part where the story of the Three Kings doesn't actually include a random, formerly crippled boy.

Menotti: Yeah... he died about two days later. Mauled by a leopard.

The Audience: Oh. Wow. That's... kinda depressing.

Menotti: Yuuup.

[Awkward silence.]

Menotti: WOOOO MERRY CHRISTMAS

[End of the opera.]

The Medium, Act II

Previous installment: Act I

Act II: The same goddamn setting as Act I, about a week later. Toby is putting on a puppet show for Monica because she's devolved into a six-year-old again. Monica applauds as he finishes.]

Monica: Yaaaaaay that was awesome and now I think I'll completely lose my grip on reality!

The Audience: Wow. Crazy really runs in your family, doesn't it.

[Monica starts waltzing with an invisible partner.]

Monica: LA LA LA SOMEONE IN THE SKY IS PLAYING A TROMBONE AND A GUITAR

Toby: {Bitch, I told you not to eat those magic mushrooms.}

The Audience: Also, trombone and guitar is just plain weird orchestration.

Toby: {Yeah, 'cause that's definitely the weirdest thing about this scene.}

Monica: [still dancing] MONICA MONICA SINGS IN THIRD PERSON

The Audience: … touché.

Monica: COME FLY WITH ME

LET'S FLY LET'S FLY AWAAAAY

[Toby takes Monica by the arm.]

Toby: {Okay, you need to calm down now.}

Monica: What is it, boy? Timmy fell down the old well?

Toby: {BITCH I AIN'T A GODDAMN DOG}

Monica: What is it you're trying to tell me?

Toby: {TO SHUT THE FUCK UP}

[And then Monica starts narrating Toby's thoughts, because apparently one bullshit psychic in the family isn't enough.]

Monica: “Monica, I know I'm just a poor mute gypsy boy that your mother took in off the street – ”

Toby: {Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself.}

Monica: “ – and I know I could never be worthy of someone so beautiful and graceful and super-foxy – ”

Toby: {You could make a living as a motivational speaker.}

Monica: “ – but I'm deeply, madly, passionately in love with you – ”

Toby: {Okay, now you're just making shit up.}

Monica: “ – I wanna – li-li-li-li-lick you from your head to your toes – ”

Toby: {Oh, come on.}

Monica: “ – I wanna – mooove from the bed, down to the – down to the floor – ”

Toby: {You're painting a grossly inaccurate picture of my sexual fantasies. Also, SING A DIFFERENT SONG}

[Monica's alternate personality suddenly takes over, and she starts freaking out.]

Monica: How dare you say such filthy things to me, slave!

The Audience: CAN WE DIAL BACK THE RACIST UNDERTONES PLEASE

Menotti: Nnnnnope.

Monica: Don't you know who I am? I'M A FUCKING QUEEEEEN

Toby: {CALM THE FUCK DOWN}

Monica: OFF WITH HIS HEAD

[Nice Monica resurfaces, and she has a full-on split-personality battle.]

Nice Monica: Toby... is our friend!

Evil Monica: Liiiiies! We hates him!

Nice Monica: We loves him!

[A great deal of hissing and spitting ensues.]

Evil Monica: Don't make us leave, precioussss... we can be good, yesss...

[Monica passes out on the floor.]

The Audience: Jesus fuck.

Toby: {I know, right?}

[Monica regains consciousness.]

Monica: Toby, I know you can't talk, but I think you have the most beautiful voice in the world!

Toby: {Yeah, silence is golden. SO WHY WON'T YOU EVER SHUT UP}

[Monica waltzes off into her room like nothing ever happened because she's fucking insane.]

The Audience: what is this I don't even

[The door slams. Baba enters, visibly drunk and carrying a half-finished bottle of liquor.]

Baba: Where th' fuck's Monica?

[Toby points in the direction of her room.]

Baba: Meh, whatever. Come sit on mama's lap, Toby.

[Toby shudders.]

Baba: COME HERE GODDAMMIT

The Audience: Jesus, this is creepy. Like... way creepier than the séance bullshit.

Toby: {Tell me about it.}

[Toby slowly approaches Baba and sits in her lap.]

Baba: Now, I know you're just a dirty gypsy child I picked out of the gutter in Budapest –

Toby: {WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP BRINGING THAT UP TODAY}

Baba: – but I love you like you're my own son! That's why it hurts me so much whenever you make me hit you!

The Audience: Yeeeeeah, it's getting more awkward in here with every passing second. We're just gonna step outside for a minute –

The Ushers: [hiss menacingly]

The Audience: – or we could just stay here.

Baba: So I promise I'll never hit you again –

Toby: {I'll believe it when I see it.}

Baba: – and I'll also buy you a bunch of fancy shit –

Toby: {See previous comment.}

Baba: – but only if you tell me: were you the one who grabbed my throat during the séance last week?

The Audience: … haven't we been over this already?

Baba: I promise I won't get mad.

[Toby does nothing.]

The Audience: You know, now might be a good time to shake your head or something.

Toby: {Meh.}

Baba: Look, I know it was you. Just show me how you did it.

Toby: {You're not my real mom; you can't tell me what to do.}

Baba: MOTHERFUCKER ANSWER ME WHEN I ASK YOU A GODDAMN QUESTION

Toby: {MAKE ME}

[Baba calms down.]

Baba: See? You make me want to beat your shifty gypsy ass when I'm just trying to be your friend. Just tell me – I'll give you anything you want!

Toby: [gives zero fucks]

Baba: HOW ABOUT MONICA HOW'D YOU LIKE TO TAP THAT FINE JAILBAIT ASS

The Audience: Is she actually pimping out her daughter right now?

Toby: {Yes. Yes she is. Also, I don't want Monica 'cause SHE CRAZY.}

Baba: MAYBE IT WASN'T YOU BUT I KNOW YOU SAW WHO OR WHAT DID IT

Toby: [still gives zero fucks]

The Audience: JUST NOD OR SOMETHING SO SHE'LL CALM DOWN

Toby: {Nah, she usually just yells for a while and then passes out. Trust me; the worst part's already over.}

Baba: ANSWER ME YOU SON OF A BITCH

[Baba goes to the cupboard and takes out a whip – apparently she keeps her BDSM gear next to the cheese and crackers – and proceeds to chase Toby around the room and beat his ass with it.]

Toby: {OH GOD I WAS WRONG IT GOT SO MUCH WORSE}

[The whipping scene is super uncomfortable and it also goes on way longer than it needs to.]

My Blog Readers: oh god this isn't funny anymore

Me: Yeah, not so much.

[The doorbell rings. Monica, who apparently couldn't hear her alcoholic mother beating the shit out of a defenseless child, somehow hears the doorbell over all the yelling and the sounds of tearing flesh.]

Monica: Yaaaay for more customers!

The Audience: Jesus Christ. You have the worst selective hearing ever.

[Monica sees Baba and Toby.]

Monica: BABA WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

Toby: {It's about goddamn time. HELP ME YOU DUMB BITCH}

Baba: [innocently] Oh, you know how it is... just a couple of bestest buddies roughhousing after pounding half a bottle of Jack. Like you do.

[Monica comforts Toby as the Gobineaux and Mrs. Nolan enter.]

Mrs. Gobineau: Um... hi. Are we interrupting something?

Baba: The fuck are you guys doing here?

Mr. Gobineau: We're here for the séance. You know, the one that's been the same night every week for the past two years?

Baba: Ohhhhhhh, right. About that: I'm actually a fraud and I've been cheating you out of your money this whole time and I'm never doing another séance again so please go away and let me keep drinking myself to death.

Mrs. Nolan: Wait, what?

Baba: I FAKED EVERYTHING YOU MORONS

Mrs. Nolan: But –

Baba: HERE TAKE YOUR MONEY BACK AND GET OUT

Mr. Gobineau: Don't be ridiculous. You couldn't possibly have faked all that.

[Baba pulls back the curtain of the puppet theater and shows them all the switches.]

Baba: DO YOU GET IT NOW

Mr. Gobineau: But what about Mickey's laughter?

Baba: MONICA SHOW THEM

[Monica does the exact same baby laugh she's been doing every week for the past two years.]

Mr. Gobineau: … nah, I'm not buying it.

Mrs. Gobineau: Yeah, that doesn't sound like our son at all!

The Audience: [facepalm]

Mrs. Nolan: But what about Doodly?

[Monica puts on her dead teenager voice.]

Monica: … Moooom … Moooooooooooooooom …

Mrs. Nolan: I don't know where your daughter learned how to do impressions, Madame Flora, but she's terrible at it. I'd know my Doodly's voice anywhere, and that's not what I heard last week.

The Audience: [double-facepalm]

Mrs. Nolan: And I even found the gold locket she told me about!

Baba: EVERYONE HAS A GOLD LOCKET SOMEWHERE IT'S THE OLDEST TRICK IN THE BOOK

Mr. Gobineau: Waaaaait a minute. I think I know what's going on here –

Baba: [sighing] Finally.

Mr. Gobineau: – you thought you were cheating us out of our money, but you've actually been a real medium the entire time without even knowing it!

The Audience: [has a collective brain aneurysm]

Baba: That's the single dumbest thing I've ever heard in my very long life. Get the fuck out of my house.

The Gobineaux and Mrs. Nolan: PLEASE LET US HAVE OUR SÉANCE

Baba: NO

The Gobineaux and Mrs. Nolan: PLEEEEEEEEEEASE

Baba: I SAID NO

The Gobineaux and Mrs. Nolan: PRETTY PLEASE WITH SOME SELF-DELUSION ON TOP

Baba: NO GODDAMMIT JUST TAKE YOUR MONEY AND GO AWAY

The Gobineaux and Mrs. Nolan: Fiiiine.

[They leave, sulking.]

Baba: Now, where was I? Oh, right. TOBY I HATE YOU

Monica: BABA BE NICE

Baba: I'm sick of being nice to this little asshole. TOBY GET OUT OF MY HOUSE AND NEVER COME BACK

Monica: What? But where will he go?

Baba: That's a great question. Ask me if I give a shit!

Monica: But you can't just throw him out into the street!

Baba: Watch me.

[Baba ignores Monica's protestations and chases Toby out of the house.]

Monica: YOU'RE THE WORST MOM EVER

Baba: GO TO YOUR ROOM

[Monica runs into her room and slams the door. Baba goes over to her liquor cabinet and pours herself another drink.]

Creepy Voice: … Moooom … Moooooooooooooooom …

Baba: HOLY SHIT

[She goes over to Monica's door.]

Baba: Monica? Did you just say something?

Monica: FUCK OFF I HATE YOU

Baba: … guess not.

[Baba locks Monica's door and keeps drinking.]

Creepy Voice: … Moooom … Moooooooooooooooom …

Baba: SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU ECTOPLASMIC MOTHERFUCKER

[She goes over to the table and sits down.]

Baba: Afraid... am I afraid? Could I really be afraid? Afraid afraid afraid?

The Audience: YES WE GET IT

Menotti: I lost my thesaurus when I was writing this part.

Baba: Soooo I've had a really long life and I've seen people being murdered and raped and shit and I never gave a fuck because I'm a straight-up badass... but for some reason, all this ghost shit has me scared enough to flip out and murder someone.

Menotti: Foreshadowing!

The Audience: Shut up.

Baba: OH GOD WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME

[Baba proceeds to have a full-scale meltdown, which ranges from rocking back and forth in a fetal position and singing the lullaby from Act I while weeping profusely...]

Baba: oh black swan where oh where has my sanity gone

[...to fits of maniacal laughter...]

Baba: AHAHAHAHA I AIN'T AFRAID OF NO GHOSTS

[...to crying and praying.]

Baba: Holy Mary, Mother of God, please help me STOP TRIPPING BALLS

[And finally she just passes out on the table.]

The Audience: Well, that was awkward.

[Toby enters, having returned to collect his few belongings.]

Toby: {grumble grumble bitch gonna throw me out without letting me get my tambourine and shit}

[He creeps past Baba to Monica's door and finds it locked. He knocks quietly, and Baba stirs in her sleep.]

Toby: {fuck fuck fuck}

[He hides behind the couch, but Baba doesn't wake up. Eventually he emerges and starts rummaging around in a trunk for his tambourine, because a loud obnoxious percussion instrument is exactly what everyone needs when they're trying to be silent.]

The Audience: We'd facepalm, but our hands are starting to get sore.

[The trunk lid falls shut suddenly and makes a loud goddamn noise.]

The Audience: Saw that coming.

[Toby dives into the puppet theater as Baba wakes up.]

Baba: WHAT THE FUCK WHO'S THERE

[There's no response. Baba reaches into a drawer in the table and pulls out a gun.]

Chekhov: THERE ARE LIKE THREE PAGES LEFT IN THE OPERA WHY ARE WE ONLY SEEING THE GUN NOW

Menotti: Shut up.

Baba: I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL SHOOT EVEN THOUGH BULLETS PROBABLY WON'T DO ANYTHING TO A GHOST

[The curtain of the puppet theater moves slightly.]

Baba: AAAAAHHHHHHH HOLY FUCKING SHIT

[Baba empties the revolver into the puppet theater. Blood gets everywhere.]

Baba: WOOO I'VE KILLED THE GHOST

The Audience: You are officially too dumb to live.

[Toby stumbles out of the puppet theater with six bullet holes in his chest and collapses on the floor.]

Baba: … huh. That ghost looks an awful lot like Toby.

Monica: [through the door] BABA WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

[Baba unlocks the door and Monica rushes out.]

Baba: Guess what! I'm a Ghostbuster now!

Monica: JESUS CHRIST YOU KILLED TOBY

Baba: Wait, seriously? … shit.

Monica: THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS

[Monica runs outside, screaming for help. Baba approaches Toby's corpse and leans in close.]

Baba: Okay, so I know I've asked you this a lot, but I promise this is the last time. Were you the one who touched me during the séance?

Toby's Corpse: [bleeds on the carpet]

Baba: You know, whenever you feel like answering. Just take your time.

The Audience: [facepalm]

[End of the opera.]