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Fear and Loathing in Verona (or Duke!)

Started by Placid Dingo, November 22, 2010, 11:19:46 AM

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Placid Dingo

I COMPLETELY forgot I ever did this. I need to finish it sometime.

DUKE!

ENTER: Narrator.
Narrator: Thou who maketh a beast of thyself rids thy pain of being a man.
And in so, comes upon such the discovery
Of what truly lies behind this flesh shell
Thus we see the tale of our two protagonists
The Duke of Rochester and his Samoan Manservant
In their vain attempts to penetrate deep
Into the world viewed in waking sleep;
To discover The Dream that drives us all
In each and all direction, in rise and fall
And eventually, into the ground. Hark!
Here you that? Deep in the night
By the road, the old witch sells her wares
Potions that strip humanity from he who dares
To consume it. Ripping off this flesh costume to display
That black and vicious creature that lies beneath.
Hark! Hear you that? They approach already.
And the potions have already begun
To have their wicked effect.

Midday. Two men approach on a horse.  One is DUKE, the other ATORN, The manservant.
Duke: Where have we come?
Atorn: We have reached Barstow Sir. We are on the edge of the desert.
Duke: I have long suspected as much. Zounds! My head!
Atorn: Are you alright?
Duke: I feel a little lightheaded. Wouldst thou take the reigns?
Atorn: I would. If only thou would allow me to reign over myself.
Duke: You may, provided you do so under my control.
Atorn: I though as much. Shall we stop?
Duke: We shall. Soon. Gadzooks! Do you not hear that, man?
Atorn: What?
Duke: That mighty roar! My God! Look! I see them now, with my eyes open! The bats! They swarm now, dripping with malice!
Atorn: I do not see them.
Duke: Oh! Great beasts of the underworld! They have come for me! I know it! Have you brought them with you, you swine! Did you send them from their cenotes?
ATORN takes off his shirt, and pours a little potion on himself.
Atorn: I know not of which you yell.
Duke: Never mind it. Here. We shall stop. You shall ride in front.
They swap sides.
Atorn: Verily! This is the way to travel. (sings) Farewell unkind, farewell!
Duke: Farewell unkind? Thou poor fool! Wait til you see those curs'd bats!
Enter: A young man.
Man: Sirs!
Atorn: Sir! Do you hear that?
Duke: I hear nothing but the beat of those dreadful wings!
Atorn: We are being summoned!
Man: Sirs!
Atorn: Let us take him with us.
The man joins the others on their horse.
Man: I hath never ridden such a well bred steed.
Duke: Well! Thou are nearly ready then!
Atorn: We are thy friend. We are not like the others.
Duke: Silence thou! Thy speakth as such and I'll have the leeches on your tongue to drain its venom! Bah. How long can we maintain this deep and black madness? Before thine head caves in, and one of us begins to speak in witches tongues? What thy new companion might think! What if he senses this madness though? Might we need to slay him? Decapitation and burial; for permitted to leave, might not he fetch the king's guards, have us locked away? Hark! That sound? My own voice? Art these thine thoughts or thine words? (He looks to the companion). I will talk with him, calm thy nerves. (addressing the man) Verily! There are some affairs that though must comprehend. Art thou listening?!
Man: Aye!
Duke: A good thing! For we hath begone on a quest of considerable danger and valour. Listen. Thy journey to Verona art for reasons numerous and of great importance. This is why thine steed art so worthy. For we are seekers, though not lost; we seek the very waking dream that encompasses the soul of man. That waking illusion that drives one to act, though to not act for around the same length would see one in as soon a grave.  Doth though understand?
Man: Aye!
Duke: Thou must know how we came to. I was in my home – one of great beauty – for I am a Duke, after all, and there was a knock upon the great wood of my door. There entered a man, not more than a quarter my height, to deliver me word. I had been requested, by his Excellency the Duke of Verona to come hence, to take note of the great race of steeds to take place here. Gadzooks! I forgot; would you care for some ale?
Man: I am fine without.
Duke: Wouldst thou have some potions?
Man: I do not understand.
Duke: And explanation would only trouble you. No. Hark! This man is my good and close companion, see! Not just some clown or cheap servant, nay! A true and cultured gentleman! Thy and thine face not skin he doth not possess, for he art one from thy farter reaches of this planet, perhaps Samoan! Oh fi! What a thing! Art thou disinclined towards him for this very reason?
Man: I protest! I am not and never said so!
Duke: Thou doth protest too much; thy heart is noble. For despite the shackles of this man's race, he art of great value to thineself. (Duke hit's Atorn on the head. He does not notice.) Hark you! This is of great importance!
Atorn: Zounds man! Unhand me, swine! You there! (Atorn points to another rider in the distance) Thou art pigsine, villains! Cowards and whores! By my trough I will have your heads on my wall!
Duke: Pay no heed to this madness; it is the potions working! We are responsible people!  This journey, this pilgrimage; it is a classic affirmation of all things that be right and true and decent in thy character of man. A proud physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country – but only for thy soul with the tenacity to laugh as Zeus pounds his hammer on Man's face!
Atorn: Woah! Stop! (stopping the horse)
Duke: Hark man! What is the meaning of this! Begone, let us move! The curs'd bats will catch us!
Atorn: Mine heart! I need the medicine!
Duke: Gadzooks! The crone's medicine! Hark, here it is, take it, quickly! Listen man; This man suffers pains of the heart; but the cures of the ladies of darkness; they are healing him! Oh yes! A miracle!
Atorn: (Takes the potion and is silent for a moment before screaming)  Song! By Jove, this silence is a noose! Song, song! Sing or we'll be here forever!
Duke: (Sings) Kill the head and the body will die!
Thy Scoundrel Savage Henry, doth cry!
We ride, o' afar to conquer thy beast
And 'ponst thy lungs, thine self shalt feast!
The man departs the horse.
Man: Gentlemen, thank you, I am in debt, but I feat I must continue along... Thank you, I am indebted! (He runs)
EXUNT MAN.
Duke: Wait, I beseech thee; Would though not drink with us?
Atorn: To Hades with it! He was a madman I tell you; not the likes of us!
Duke: Move you! I will ride; we must move in haste; that man will seek out the king's guards, I am sure of it. These potions have made loons of us.
Atorn: To be sure; he is in the midst of nowhere.
Duke: To be sure; so art thine.
Atorn: Hark! There is a place to rest! Shall we stop a little?
Haven't paid rent since 2014 with ONE WEIRD TRICK.