Beckett's Ape

By Daniel Keller

Becketts Ape is a masterfully crafted play on words that probes the absurdity of the human condition. It begins where Godot ends and reads like a novel whose dialogue mimes our humdrum lives. It mirrors our fears, echoes our need for meaning, and points us toward hope in a surprising way.

Two misfits named Plankton and Eelectron are painting a curb and stoplight on the corner of Life and Death. Plankton is a pushy control freak in charge of thinking who orders his sensitive friend around. While painting the stoplight (and each other) they receive urgent phone calls from a boss named HIM. We witness apparitions and Eelectrons crucifixion who as a victim of Planktons paint atop the stoplight is entirely yellow. Our hero is revived by a goddess named Neutrino who arises from a trashcan. The plot thickens as the stoplight changes from green to yellow to red, and again to green.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 5, 2001
• ISBN: 9781469112916

Book preview

Beckett’s Ape

Daniel Keller

Copyright © 2001 by Daniel Keller.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design: Barbara Shumaker Meeker

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-7-XLIBRIS

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

BECKETT’S APE

ACT I

ACT II

Endnotes

BY DANIEL KELLER

THE LAUGHTER FACTOR

THE MADNESS OF CREATION

KIERKEGAARD CONTRA NIETZSCHE

PICASSO’S GUITAR

VAN GOGH’S SHOE

MOZART’S WIG

LUTHER’S TUBA

BIRTHSOUNDS

BECKETT’S APE

SWIMMING THE SEASON

FOR DEBORAH

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I thank my stenographer and friend, Mrs. Jeanne Wilkins, for editing my work, and for her insights, diligence, and moral support. And I thank my mother, Guycelle Black Keller, for her enduring and unconditional acceptance.

BECKETT’S APE

CHARACTERS

EELECTRON

PLANKTON

HIM (or HYMN)

Boy on tricycle

Lumbering Beast

Yellow Dog

Gorilla

Hippie in leather jacket

NEUTRINO

DIRECTOR

Two Orderlies

Cow (wearing a cowbell)

ACT I

Total darkness; an indistinguishable form lumbers loudly across stage; a green light goes on; a cowbell rings three times; the light turns to yellow; the stage slowly lights up. *

A street curb. A stoplight (on yellow). One garbage can.

Morning.

Enter Eelectron, stage right, huffing and puffing; is carrying a ladder, dragging a red wagon full of paint buckets and limping on his right leg. Drops wagon handle and clumsily staggering puts ladder against the stoplight. Inspects ladder. Slowly stretches both arms outward in crucifix position and yawns. Picks the seat of his pants. Searches the premises as if looking for something. He is wearing green work clothes (spattered with yellow paint), a red hat, and clown-size shoes.

EELECTRON:   (Raises hand to brow and scans the distance.) There seems to be nothing here. (Enter Plankton, buttocks first, with bucket of yellow paint, painting the curb. He is wearing a baggy blue suit, blue tie, blue cap and white gloves. His left arm is in a sling and he has a patch over his right eye.)

PLANKTON:   (Loudly) Don’t you mean there’s nothing to be done? (Takes whiskey bottle from pocket.)

EELECTRON:   (Unsure of himself and putting his hand to his heart) I think I mean what I said.

PLANKTON:   (Drinks from the bottle with satisfaction and returns it to his pocket, not hearing.) What’s that? You say there’s nothing here and the Indians are dead?! (Takes another gulp of whiskey.)

EELECTRON:   (Softly) I said (Takes a breath and speaks at the top of his lungs.) . . . there seems to be nothing here!

PLANKTON:   (Overbearing and visibly irritated) Have you tried the fire escape?

EELECTRON:   (Takes several steps toward the opposite side of the stage apparently looking at a fire escape.) There’s no reason.

PLANKTON:   (Momentarily defeated) It would be useless.

EELECTRON:   (Sincerely) What do you propose?

PLANKTON:   (Considers the question.) Certainly not marriage! (Guffaws loudly to himself and stops abruptly with straight a face. Eelectron looks on.) I propose… I propose a toast!

EELECTRON:   (Joining in the frivolity) A toast.

PLANKTON:   (Lifts can of paint in the air.) To freedom… No, that would be too risky. I propose a toast… to… I can think of nothing worth proposing.

EELECTRON:   (Scratching his head) Surely there must be something.

PLANKTON:   (Matter-of-factly) There’s nothing. First no rhyme, then no reason, and now nothing.

EELECTRON:   Nothing at all?

PLANKTON:   (Angrily) I said there was nothing! (An uncomfortable period of silence.)

EELECTRON:   (Looking on the bright side) If that’s all there is.

PLANKTON:   (Interrupts) You mean isn’t.

EELECTRON:   (Thinks) Yes, isn’t. If that’s all there isn’t, then why not propose a toast to nothing?

PLANKTON:   (Lifts can of paint in the air.) To nothing! (Touches can of paint to Eelectron’s and apparently takes a drink; Eelectron looks on wide-eyed. Plankton clutches his stomach looking for sympathy.) I’m beginning to feel sick. (Groans.)

EELECTRON:   Do you think it could have been the paint?

PLANKTON:   (Emphatically) Of course it was the paint, half brain, what else could it have been!?!?

EELECTRON:   (Blankly) I can think of nothing.

PLANKTON:   (Disgusted) Any idiot knows that it had to have been the paint.

EELECTRON:   (Agreeing) There’s no question.

PLANKTON:   (Argumentatively) I thought there was always a question.

EELECTRON:   (Reflects) I guess sometimes there is a question and sometimes there isn’t.

PLANKTON:   (Accusingly) You just said there was no question!

EELECTRON:   (Patiently) I mean there’s no question that it was the paint.

PLANKTON:   (Suddenly reminded that he’s swallowed the paint, Plankton clutches his throat as if choking.) O-o-o-O. The paint. (He then falls to the floor apparently dead; Eelectron rushes to his aid, propping up his head.)

EELECTRON:   Pi-Oui (pronounced pee-wee) speak to me. (Eelectron loosens Plankton’s collar.)

PLANKTON:   (Calmly raises his head.) What is it you want me to say?

EELECTRON:   Thank God you’re still alive. (Takes several rags from his pocket and puts them under Plankton’s head.)

PLANKTON:    Why thank HIM?

EELECTRON:   There’s no one else to thank.

PLANKTON:   (Looks around.) So there isn’t.

EELECTRON:   Are you all right? (Wipes Plankton’s forehead with red handkerchief.)

PLANKTON:   No. I’m mostly left.

EELECTRON:   That’s not what I mean.

PLANKTON:   It’s not what I mean either but it seemed like the right thing to say.

EELECTRON:   What I mean is, are you feeling better?

PLANKTON:   (Not hearing) Better or bitter?

EELECTRON:   (Frustrated) Better.

PLANKTON:   I’ve never felt better in my life. (As an afterthought) But I might not be able to go on working.

EELECTRON:   It doesn’t matter. (Stands up; resolutely.) I