October 8, 2000
*-* Just something that will probably never be finished. Oh well; it was kind of an experiment in writing. Rough draft, errors ours.
Day Funeral
By DJ Jazzy and DJ Nabisco
Warnings: Implied yaoi, angst, bastardization
//Open to a plain, dark stage. As of yet, the lights in the theater remain on. No music plays in the background. A slender man, wearing all black, his face and body tinted with grays and whites, moves to the front and center of the empty set with long, casual strides, hands in his pockets, whistling a tune that sounds strangely like "The Star Spangled Banner". He turns to face the audience.//
Duo, rocking back and forth on his heels slowly, in a loud, booming voice: Hey, Heero! Aren't you going to come see the sunset? //He stomps his foot teasingly.// I'll drag you out naked and screaming if I have to!
//Enter Heero, another slim man in dark colors. He emerges from the darkness of the back of the stage and wraps his arms around Duo's chest, rocking from one foot to the other, gently.//
//Rich piano music, all played in the upper register, begins to drift over the stage. A few seconds after Heero comes onstage, the theater goes dark. The piano begins to fade out, leaving a slow bass thumping in the background. Scraping sounds can be heard, like chairs being rearranged. Voices ring out.//
Hilde: I was fourteen when I first saw him. //voice trembling// He stopped to pick up my beret; it had blown clear across the street. I didn't even know his name.
Relena: He was always so polite, so kind. But he seemed sad.
Quatre: I could see his eyes from any distance, be it clear sky, starry night.
Trowa: I loved him.
//Faint gasps echo.//
Trowa: I did! You can ask anyone. We're neighbors. I can see the road in front of his house from my kitchen; when he comes home from basketball practice, I take those stupid steps two at a time and if I'm lucky, by the time I get to my bedroom window, he's not inside yet. Sometimes I--sometimes I watch him take off his shirt, real slow... But I...
Quatre: How can he not know...
Trowa: I don't know.
Quatre: Ten years.
Trowa: Hell yeah, ten years. It's pure misery loving him.
Quatre: I can imagine.
//The lights slowly brighten, stopping just before the gray shapes can become detailed figures. Every actor but Quatre's walks offstage with their chair. Quatre sets up his folding chair in the center of the stage where Duo had been standing and shuffles off, head bowed.//
//Enter Treize. The older man walks onstage in his robe and slippers, a newspaper curled under his arm. Unrolling the newspaper, he sits in the chair and begins to read.//
//Enter Duo, hobbling on invisible crutches.//
Treize: Sit down, young man! //He frowns as he realizes there is no seat.//
Duo: //His voice has a clear defensive edge.// Jesus! Will you shut up and let me talk?
Treize: I don't see why I should! Young man, I don't know what you think you're doing, but you won't get away with it! You will NEVER go to college if you don't play basketball! NEVER! //Screaming the last word, his tone becomes soothing.// Now, look Duo, all you've got to do is go to Coach Wittiker and apologize, tell him you didn't mean it... You're the best player on the team, his starting point guard...
Duo: ...sixth man, you mean...
Treize: ...he'll be more than happy to take you back.
//An awkward silence falls over them.//
Duo: Dad...
Treize: What?
Duo: If I say something, will you promise not to get mad?
Treize: Look, if you've knocked up some girl--
Duo: //vehemently// No!
Treize: Well? //sighs//
Duo: I met someone. And I'm leaving town tonight.
//As Duo speaks, the light brightens to illuminate the entire stage. To the right, there is a translucent black sheet. A candle flickers behind it, casting strange shadows. The audience can see a boy with Duo's trademark braid lowering another boy to the a square box that looks like a bed and kissing him passionately.//
Treize: You've got a game against Westminster tomorrow, Du-chan. What? //He stands slowly, menacingly.//
Duo: I hate that name, Dad. *Dad!* Didn't you hear me? //The two men circle each other viciously, like battling alpha males.// I'm leaving, Dad. I'm not coming back.
Heero, off-stage: //Heero laughs softly, almost a girly high-pitched giggle, mocking the fact that Treize does not know Duo is gay.//
Treize: We'll discuss it in the morning. //Treize folds up his paper and begins to walk away.//
Duo: //sotto voce; The words tear from his lips involuntarily.// You don't even want to know who I 'knocked up', huh? Some father. Where's the manly man that used to tell me stories about all the girls he laid and all the tits he squeezed? Hunh! //Duo grunts like a primitive ape.//
Treize: //pauses// I'm sure I'll hear all about it from your hooligan friends, Kitty and T-bone.
Duo: Quatre and Trowa, Dad. And they're not hooligans, they're nice guys--
Treize: God damn it, Duo, you have to go against everything I say--
Duo: What are you talking about, Dad? Dad! //snaps his fingers//
Treize: We'll talk about it in the morning! I'm going to bed. You--//He points at Duo.//--can go apologize to your mother for staying out so late. She was worried sick, couldn't even watch her favorites soaps on television--
Duo: Those things'll rot her brain.
Treize: //ignores Duo// --Zechs had to make supper. It was burnt toast and bagels, no butter; your mother didn't have time to go to the grocery store because the engine in the Ford died.
Duo: What? The--What? Why didn't you just leave her alone, Dad? I *told* you, the engine's not done! Jesus Christ All-Mighty...
Treize: //throws his newspaper down against the stage loudly, fists clenched// Where did you learn that language? Never from me, by God! Or your mother; we're both God-fearing people. //rushing across stage, he acts like he is going to grab Duo's face in his hands, but stops// It's that Yui boy's family, isn't it? The Japanese are a buncha swearin', lyin', sake drinkin' freaks! //Treize pronounces 'sake' like it rhymes with 'rake'.// They never should have brought the damn Japs back from the concentration camps--Hell, if *I*--
Duo: --were running this country?
Treize: --were running this country, I'da let them all rot in hell. //Treize looks quite pleased with himself.//
Duo: //bites his tongue// Right Dad. Let 'em all rot in hell while we do the same here.
Treize: ...what?
Duo: Never mind. Go to sleep, Dad, we'll chat in the morning, okay? //He is on the verge of tears.//
Treize: That's a good boy, Duo.
//The lights flicker for a moment, signifying a flashback. The two boys behind the sheet blow out the candle, obscuring the view. Duo and Treize run offstage, hand in hand, crutches forgotten. A few moments later, a door is heard creaking open and Duo, dressed in OshKosh, sprints out.//
Une, offstage: You forgot your breakfast, Duo--
Treize: //smiling// It's okay; Duo's a strong healthy boy.
Une: //She is nearly in tears, wiping her eyes on her apron.// He's growing up fast, Treize. What a good boy we've raised! He'll make the basketball team for sure!
Treize: Now, now, Anne--he's only ten after all--he's got a few more years! //He chuckles broadly, then frowns as a police siren sounds.// Shit, Anne--they're taking him! They're taking Zechs!
Une: //begins to weep// What's going on, Treize? What's going on?!!
Treize: I don't know, honey. Just sit tight. He'll be fine. He'll be fine. He'll be fine. //They embrace in the wings.//
//Suddenly, Duo comes running up to them, blood pouring from his nose. Une steps out onto the stage and picks him up, hugging him to her bosom.//
Une: His nose!
Treize: Got into a fight, eh?
Duo: They said my brother was a fairy. //Treize snickers; Une elbows him hard.//
Treize: As long as you left the other one bleeding worse! That's a good boy, Duo!
//The flashback abruptly ends; Duo is left standing alone onstage. His arms are again supported by crutches. Duo whispers something that is only partly intelligible, but amounts to a terse good-bye. The doorbell rings as the lights begin to dim.//
End Part One
Ariana and Bianca
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