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Bringing Down the House

By Adam Wasserman

(The stage is divided into two sections, one on the left and one on the right. If they are both illuminated at the same time, a swath of darkness separates them. An ample space should buffer the edge of stage from the set. When music plays it should be in the background, except at the end when specified.)

(Stage left is illuminated; stage right remains dark. Elvis’ Office. Elvis is seated at his desk, legs hanging over the front. Two chairs face him, empty. A large, official looking portrait hangs behind him. On the desk can be seen a telephone, a macintosh laptop, and a bust of the queen’s head. Next to his desk, almost invisible in the shadows, is a much smaller desk, fit for a small child, an exact replica. Even the items on it are duplicated miniatures.)

Elvis (to audience): My name is Vladimir Vittorio Ekkel van Schlumpf. I am mayor of this city and I have the best job in the world. The best, because I wasn’t elected. And I’m not from here, so I’m not under obligation to anyone. All I have to do is assure the queen that I like her silly new hairdo and that ridiculous hat they somehow manage to squeeze over it, and I can count on years and years yet of sitting behind this pretty desk and giving orders. There are the other perks, too. Lots of important people kissing my ass and taking me out to expensive dinners. Exotic vacations. Free parking. Helicopter shuttle service. I could go on. I’m a happy man. Of course, I don’t like my name. I hate it. But it’s one of those quirks of fate that I really can’t do anything about. I can’t blame my parents. Fate worked against them, too. People like us, we collect names, and almost always for a reason. And as they are passed down and reused, they acquire a kind of weight. People recognize these names. I can’t just go and change it. I forget who was Vittorio and I forget who was Ekkel, but they were relatives of mine, and important ones, too. So to get back to the point, I’m a happy man. The happy mayor of a happy little city where the factories have long since been replaced by big glass office buildings crammed with happy little people. On weekends they go out and happily buy little gadgets or go to church or both, whatever makes them happy. The people like me, you see, partly because I’m affiliated with the Workers’ Party. Of course, there aren’t any workers here anymore. That’s the beauty of it. Just consumers now, with no loyalty to each other or their employer. God knows their employers have no loyalty to them, and if he doesn’t, I certainly do. Of course, I go out on important holidays and wave to the people on television. This is especially true whenever it has something to do with the Holocaust. I could forget Christmas and think up a good excuse, but the Jews really got this one figured out good. The best thing to do is just accept it. A human being’s got to choose his battles. Otherwise they’ll say I’m a Jew-hater, and once you’ve been called that the game’s over. You can never recover from that. Every once in a while I pay a highly promoted visit to an old age home, or a school, or some other feel-good joint, but it’s the executives I listen to now. They pay for all the fancy dinners, you see. The helicopter shuttle service. As long as no one tells the queen that the executives are unhappy, as long as I remember – perhaps most important of all! – when to do nothing, I can count on years of ease and good seats at the football matches. There is, in fact, only one thing that worries me. Yes, there is something, damn it. A little thing, that’s all. It’s nothing really. I don’t even know why I’m mentioning it at all.

(Stage left falls in darkness. Stage right illuminated. Squatters’ Living Room. Two couches in poor repair face each other, slightly turned towards audience. The colors clash. There is ample room both between and behind the couches. Two or three small tables are scattered about with overflowing ashtrays and cans and bottles of different kinds of beer. A TV is present in a corner at the front of the stage facing the couches and somewhere on the floor a telephone. There is an exit offstage to one side.)

(Emile and Clemens are on one couch, Ivo on the other. All are drinking a beer. Ivo is smoking. Music plays in the background. TV is off.)

(Clemens lets out a huge belch.)

Ivo: Why didn’t you just deny it? Felix would have let it lie.

Emile: You said Felix would let it lie.

Clemens: Felix is an asshole. I always thought so.

Ivo: No you didn’t. I heard you say –

Clemens: Forget what I said. Felix is an asshole.

(Enter Paz with plates which she hands out.)

Paz: You shouldn’t have touched her ass.

Emile: He pinched her.

Paz: Yeah, on the ass. I told you to leave her alone.

Clemens: Why?

Emile: Clemens pinches your ass.

Paz: That’s because I let him.

Ivo: She didn’t dig you, Clemens. That’s why.

Clemens: Shut up, Ivo.

(Exit Paz.)

Ivo (shouting): Hey, Paz, that smells good!

Emile: Did you get paid?

Clemens: I got the cash, yeah. Ivo, you still collecting?

Ivo (shouting): What’s in that? Is that garlic?

Emile: Can’t you collect, Clemens?

Clemens: It’s always garlic, Ivo. Shit, day in, day out, Paz cooks with garlic. Can’t you recognize it by now?

Paz (off stage): I like garlic. It’s good for you.

Emile: I heard it makes you smell funny.

Clemens: I wouldn’t blame it on the garlic, Emile.

Ivo: Beers?

Emile: Any Duvel left?

Ivo: Don’t know.

Emile: Duvel.

Clemens: It was all under the table.

Ivo: What if there’s none left?

Emile: You worked there at least two years.

Clemens: One year.

Ivo: Clemens?

Clemens: I’m talking. What?

Emile: I still think you should be able to collect.

Ivo: He can’t collect, Emile. It was all under the table.

(Enter Paz.)

Paz: All you had to do was deny it.

Clemens: Why deny it? She’s been flirting with me since she started.

Emile: She asked you to come home with her one night.

Ivo: No she didn’t.

Clemens: It was my kitchen. She came into my kitchen.

Paz: Clemens likes to think she did.

Ivo: She didn’t.

Clemens: She asked me to come home with her after work.

Ivo: Yeah, for an oreo cookie and some milk.

Emile: How old is she?

Ivo: Sixteen.

Clemens: She’s not sixteen! Ivo! If you say that again, I’m gonna fuckin’ smack you!

Paz: When?

Emile: When what?

Paz: When did she ask you home?

Clemens: I don’t know when! Will you guys just leave me alone!

Emile: Hey, Paz, maybe you could try cooking us something without garlic.

Clemens: What?

Paz: He wasn’t talking to you. (to Emile): It’s not garlic. Onions in butter. Gonna fry up some chicken. With white wine and lemon.

Ivo: Not pork, right?

Paz: Chicken.

Clemens: That’s what she said, solapa! Chicken!

Ivo: What?

Clemens: Shut up. Weren’t you gonna get us beers?

Ivo: Yeah, everyone but you.

Paz: Get me a Grolsch.

Ivo (to Emile): What if there’s none left?

Emile: There was plenty of Grolsch the last time I looked.

Ivo: Forget it.

(Exit Ivo.)

Emile: I still don’t see why you can’t collect.

Clemens: Enough about the collecting! I’m not in the fucking system. It’s not that hard to understand.

Paz: You got too arrogant.

Clemens: I’m a good cook.

Ivo (offstage): You can’t even recognize the smell of garlic!

Emile: Now you’ll have more time to cook for us.

Paz: When I let him.

Emile: Yeah, maybe that was your kitchen. But this here is Paz’s kitchen. Right, Paz? Maybe I can cook some time, too.

Paz: What? You cook? Listen, honey, you’re idea of cooking is opening a plastic container and adding water. No way, man. No way.

Clemens: I was the best cook they ever had. Felix told me.

Ivo (offstage): Yeah, that’s why he fired your ass.

Paz: Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to get sued.

Emile: That’s true. More like the States here every day.

Ivo (offstage): Good ol’ freedom and de –

Clemens (to Ivo): Will you shut up already?

Paz: Go easy on him, Clem. It’s not his fault you can’t control your dick.

Clemens: I can control it just fine. Anyway, you wouldn’t know. Why’d we never hook up, Paz?

Paz: Simple. You’re not my type.

Emile (laughing): I’ll bet you hear that a lot, Clemens.

(Enter Ivo.)

Ivo: I got you a Grolsch, Paz.

Paz: No, thanks. I’m drinking wine.

Ivo: I thought you said -

Paz: I changed my mind.

Ivo (handing out beers): Onions are burning, Paz.

Paz: Shit!

(Exit Paz.)

Clemens: What about me?

Ivo: What about you?

Clemens: You didn’t get me anything.

Ivo: Nope.

Clemens: Why not?

Ivo: Because you’re an asshole.

(Clemens leaps at Ivo, but Emile restrains him.)

Emile: Clemens! Easy boy! Clemens! It’s just a beer.

Clemens: The last thing I need right now is shit from this fucking runt! I got fired yesterday and it’s not even my fault –

Ivo: You pinched that chick on the ass.

Emile: Ivo, you better stop it. Unless you want to be a punching bag for the next hour.

(Enter Paz.)

Paz: What’s all the shouting about?

Emile: Clemens is having a go at Ivo.

Clemens (to Emile): Will you let go of me already? (To Paz): He’s asking for a slap or two. The fucking prick.

Paz: Ivo, relax man, okay? Today’s not like other days. Give Clem some space.

Ivo: I didn’t do anything.

Clemens: That’s right!

Ivo: He’s all pissed off because I didn’t bring him a beer.

Clemens: You got everybody else one!

Ivo: I asked you –

(Silence. Paz gets up, picks up the other beer, and hands it to Clemens.)

Paz: There. See how easy that was? Now why don’t you boys work this out while I go and finish supper.

(Exit Paz. Silence. They remain standing.)

Ivo: I did try and ask you.

Clemens: Forget about it.

Emile: I remember you asking Clemens but I think he didn’t hear you.

Clemens: I said forget about it, Emile. Must be my nerves. Gotta figure out what I’m gonna do.

Emile: Yeah, you can’t collect.

Ivo: Cheers.

(They clang beers and drink. Then they sit.)

Emile: Well, think of it this way. We don’t pay rent. They can’t turn off the electrity, heat, or the water. And the place isn’t ours. We can do with it what we like.

Ivo: They can’t kick us out, Clemens.

Emile: Don’t worry, you’ll find another job.

Clemens (to Ivo): Easy for you to say. You’re collecting.

Ivo: Anyone got a smoke?

(Lights out on right stage. Left stage illuminated. Elvis’ Office.)

Elvis (to audience): Squatters. Vile, vicious little do-nothings who threaten the order of my happy little city. They bring property values down. The executives complain about them all the time. It ruins my otherwise perfect day. The newspapers don’t discuss them and that means the queen doesn’t come down on my ass. But there you have it: people living outside the control of our free society. We can’t have it! The rest of you have a number in a computer and we keep track of you. You have an office to go to where they pay you if you are well behaved and you use their expensive gadgets and you pay your taxes and keep whatever might be left over in a bank account where we can make sure you are using it properly. You are all immersed in a sufficient amount of debt that you are frightened silly. But these squatters? A dangerous element, I tell you. No way to keep them in line. They aren’t interested in brand names. Terrible. Despicable. Terrorists, really. No, they aren’t just bums living for free on someone else’s hard earned property. They have plans. They are spreading, taking over. They go for office space now. You know that boom we had some years back? Well, lots of unused office space these days. Except it’s not left unused. Imagine that. They are taking over. You don’t notice it. It’s part of their plan. You think everything is honky-dory. The only thing on your mind is what the neighbor has that you don’t. Until one day – well, who knows what they’ll do, but I’m sure none of you will like it. I sure as hell won’t. That’s what a terrorist is, you know. It’s not just somebody who blows things up. You never know when they are going to strike. It’s a good thing you have people like me to keep an eye on them for you, protect us all from the unknown. You don’t suddenly want to find yourselves living in a world without deodorant, do you? Think of what it would be like standing in line. Our well ordered Germanic society would go to pieces with all those unruly smells. What if none of us paid taxes? What would the world be like then? What about the children? Perhaps you think I am making too big a deal out of this. I’m sorry to tell you that I am not. There have been squatters in this city for some time, I know. But did you know that they are planning to rob banks? Yes, that’s right. And not just one bank. All of them! Electronically. They’ve imported some Russian computer whiz to help with the details. We don’t know where they’re keeping him yet, but we’ve heard them talking about him. He’s a genius. One of those weirdos. Then they’re all going to skip off to some tropical island and spend the rest of their days getting drunk, smoking marijuana, and having all-night orgies. Think of the fun they’ll be having. And we’ll all be stuck here in this cold, rainy weather getting up at 6 in the morning and eating bland food for the rest of our lives. How’s that for solidarity? I’m a member of the Workers’ Party. We’re all supposed to be sticking together, aren’t we? Making sacrifices for the greater good! The system doesn’t work if we don’t all do our part, does it? Does it?

(Darkness falls on stage left. Stage right is illuminated. Squatters’ Living Room. Ivo and Emile present. They are sitting slouched watching TV with the sound off. Music plays in the background.)

Emile: I don’t know. I never thought about it.

Ivo: Some chicks won’t go down on you if you don’t.

Emile: No one’s ever said anything to me like that. How often do you do it?

Ivo: About every two weeks.

Emile: You use a razor?

Ivo: God no! No razor is coming that close to my dick! Clippers, man. Clippers.

Emile: The same ones you shave your head with?

Ivo: Sure.

Emile: Does Clemens know?

Ivo: No. Why?

Emile: He borrows it sometimes, doesn’t he?

Ivo: So?

Emile: Well, I don’t shave my pubes.

Ivo: I think everybody should.

Emile: Why?

Ivo: We’d all like each other that much better.

(short silence)

Emile (gesturing to TV): What are those things?

Ivo: I think they’re wilderbeasts. Yep. I’ve seen this episode before.

Emile: Don’t they know how to run away?

Ivo: I wonder if they taste good.

Emile: What?

Ivo: Have you ever had wilderbeast?

Emile: No, I guess the lions have cornered the market.

Ivo: What?

Emile (gesturing to TV): Well, look!

(short silence)

Ivo: Maybe we should go get some. You know, start a business importing wilderbeast meat. It’s exotic. Give it a fancy name and sell it for a lot of money to tourists on the beach.

Emile: Bad idea.

Ivo: We’re gonna need something to keep us busy.

Emile: Wouldn’t work.

Ivo: That’s what you always say.

Emile: That’s because I only open my mouth when I know what I’m talking about. Your idea is, well, silly.

Ivo (barking like a seal): Ar! Ar! Ar!

Emile: Answer me this. Why would you eat wilderbeast meat but not pork?

Ivo: Pork is unhealthy.

Emile: Why?

Ivo: I don’t know. But a lot of people don’t eat it.

Emile: I see.

Ivo: What?

Emile: You don’t eat it because a lot of people don’t eat it.

Ivo: That’s not the reason.

Emile: I like pork. Pig is one of the best tasting animals. Every part of it. Especially the fatty ones.

Ivo: It goes bad quickly. Gets worms.

Emile: We have refrigerators these days.

Ivo: I heard you can get worms living in your intestines. Three meters long.

Emile: Where?

Ivo: On the internet.

Emile: You don’t know what you’re missing.

Ivo: I used to eat pork. But then I was with this chick and she didn’t eat it.

Emile: So it’s not because of any belief at all.

Ivo: Just never picked it up again.

Emile: I’ll bet she didn’t eat wilderbeast, either.

Ivo: That’s different.

Emile: Why?

Ivo: You can’t buy it in the store.

Emile: What does that have to do with it?

Ivo: Nothing, I guess.

(They laugh together. Telephone rings. No one picks it up.)

(Darkness falls on stage right. Stage left illuminated. Elvis’ Office. Cramer and MBA are seated in the chairs before Elvis’ desk. MBA sits very stiffly and straight, Cramer slouched with legs hanging over one arm.)

Cramer: You’re a freak, MBA.

MBA: I have identified value. I have added opportunities. I’m developing and implementing initiatives.

Cramer: You’re a freak. I always found you dry and boring, but I figured somehow that maybe, I don’t know, maybe you like sprung to life when you walked out of here and none of us could see.

MBA: I have a proven track record, Cramer. Amusements do not provide a fertile ground for idea generation.

Cramer: Don’t you ever want to go out? Go dancing? Maybe go home with someone?

MBA: Leadership, strategy, and governance.

Cramer: MBA?

MBA: Cramer, you have to take it to the next level. Money and a big title are vital core enabling functions. I don’t dance.

Cramer: Well, I admit, I don’t know how to dance and have never been to a club before in my life. I mean, how would that look, if like the media got a hold of that one?

MBA: Educated, energized, and inspired.

Cramer: My God, MBA, do you never stop talking like that?

MBA: Like what?

Cramer: Well, all that crap that comes out of your mouth! Sometimes I have no clue what you’re talking about.

MBA: You’re problem, Cramer, is that you can’t think creatively. You don’t think out of the box.

Cramer: What box?

MBA: What do you mean, what box?

Cramer: Are you having something delivered?

MBA: I think your value chain is breaking down.

Cramer: I see. Does your wife talk like that, too?

MBA: Empowerment, synergy, vision!

Cramer: You know, MBA, I’ve risen pretty quickly in this world. I’m Elvis’ right hand man. I should be quite content. But it’s been a while since I went anywhere. I’ve hit some kind of glass ceiling.

MBA: Empowerment! Energized! Strategy!

Cramer: I’m stuck. It’s like there’s nowhere else to go. And I don’t like it. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

MBA: Stynergy.

Cramer: And the things he has me do now. Fetch his lunch! Compile lists of addresses! What’s that? Can’t I be more useful than reading the phonebook? What kind of reward for loyalty is that? Remember the power outages three years ago?

MBA: Levership.

Cramer: Who pressured the unions? Who pulled strings at the newspapers?

MBA: Empuwerment.

Cramer: And now all of a sudden he’s obsessed with these damn squatters. Squatters! What’s he thinking? Robbing banks. They can’t even decide who’s turn it is to clean the toilet. If they clean the toilet. Do you have any idea what brought this on, MBA? Because it’s a complete mystery to me.

MBA: Stynergy. Levership. Empuwerment.

Cramer: MBA?

(Enter Elvis forcefully. Cramer starts and leaps to his feet.)

Cramer: Boss!

Elvis: That’s me.

(Elvis strides to the chair behind his desk and sits down.)

Cramer: I wasn’t expecting you so early.

Elvis: There’s lots to do, Cramer.

MBA: Stynergy!

Elvis: MBA?

MBA: Empuwerment!

Elvis: Cramer, what’s going on here?

Cramer: I don’t know, sir. He’s been talking like that all morning.

Elvis: Jesus Christ, Cramer. What did you do to him?

MBA: Core enibling foonctions to achieve levership!

Cramer: I didn’t do anything, boss!

Elvis (getting up and walking over behind MBA): You know, I was training him to talk normal. I was getting somewhere. Now look at him. He’s a stuttering, blathering fool if ever I saw one.

Cramer (to himself): Isn’t he always?

Elvis: What?

Cramer: Nothing, sir.

Elvis: We’re all friends here, Cramer.

(Elvis slaps MBA on the backside of the head.)

Elvis: Well?

MBA: Disciplines of procurement leaders. Cross enterprise integration. Metrics management. Yep, all better! Thanks, Vlad.

(Elvis growls at MBA but says nothing and returns to his desk.)

Cramer: Sometimes he gets stuck. It’s not my fault.

Elvis: It’s not important. What is important, is that list of addresses I asked you about yesterday.

Cramer: We were up working on it all night.

Elvis: Good. Where is it?

Cramer: Right here.

(Cramer hands a sheet of paper to Elvis. Elvis studies it for a moment.)

Elvis: These are all the addresses and telephone numbers?

MBA: Our survey leveraged the existing value chain and delivered additional innovation as necessary in a thoroughly participative process to deliver results.

Elvis: What?

MBA: Our survey leveraged the existing value –

Elvis: Yes, well, it’s a good start. As far as I know, no one has ever compiled a list of all the squat houses before. Cramer?

Cramer: No, Elvis.

Elvis: Good. We are delivering innovation, to take a page from our friend MBA’s book. When the other mayors have completed theirs, we’ll know exactly how many of these squats there are. What we’re up against. Then we’ll go and arrest them all in a single sweep.

Cramer: Where will we put them?

Elvis: We’ll contract MBA here to build us more prisons. Think of all that cheap labor suddenly made available to the city! No unions, either.

Cramer: Christ on the cross, Elvis, how are we gonna get away with that? We’ve been telling everybody for months now there’s no money. That’s how we got to raise the retirement age to 80. Remember? That’s why they went along with taking out loans for their education and health insurance.

Elvis: MBA here will convince them it’s in their own best interest. Won’t you, MBA?

MBA: Constructing Involuntary Communal Residences will generate employment opportunities in a number of industries, benefiting the local economy now and going forward –

Elvis: Shut up.

Cramer: He gets carried away sometimes, Elvis.

Elvis: I know, I know. Annoying little fucker, isn’t he? Still, comes in handy sometimes. Don’t you, MBA?

MBA: Indispensable.

(MBA is about to say more, but Elvis holds up a hand. MBA stops.)

Elvis: Now, Cramer -

Cramer: Yes, boss.

(Telephone rings. Elvis picks it up and listens a moment.)

Elvis (on telephone): I’m not interested. (hangs up) (to MBA): How’d you get this number?

MBA: Our Preliminary Remote Sales Agents attempt all existing telephone numbers, making it easier for customers to engage and exposing them to our broad range of products and services, which helps us with our goal of achieving a differentiated marketplace position –

Elvis: You try every number at random?

MBA: Not at random. And we maintain an enterprise information system which contains all data pertaining to past interactions with bank account administrators –

Elvis: Take mine out of it. And don’t call here again.

MBA: Our Preliminary Remote Sales Agents –

Elvis: I know, you already told me.

MBA: - attempt all existing telephone numbers, making it easier –

Elvis: Are you telling me you can’t?

MBA: Our goal is to achieve a differentiated marketplace position and –

Elvis: Find a way. Now, Cramer, how do we stand on the legal front?

Cramer: Pretty good, boss. Actually, better than ever before when we tried things like this. As squatters, of course, they are fully protected by the law. But new possibilities have opened up in the last few years. We can let all the old laws stand, the ones that always got in the way. But we can circumvent them now whenever we need to. As long as there is a real and pressing threat to national security.

Elvis: Terrorism. What a wonderful thing. I don’t think those towelheads knew how much they were helping us when they slammed those planes into those towers in New York.

(Telephone rings. Elvis picks it up.)

(Stage left dims to blackness. Stage right illuminated. Squatters’ Living Room. Paz on one couch, Ivo and Emile on the other are seated. Paz is on telephone. Clemens is standing before them. Music plays in background.)

Paz (in phone): Yeah? (listens) He’s not a dog, Alberto! You can’t expect him to mop up your leftovers. What are you giving him anyway? (listens) Man, I wouldn’t eat that either. (listens) Sure, okay, Alberto. I know what he probably likes. But not now. How’s about an hour? (listens) Fine. (hangs up)

Clemens: What?

Paz: He doesn’t like his food.

Ivo: What’s wrong with it?

Paz: I don’t know.

Emile: He’s probably not used to it.

Clemens: So, anyway, this guy, he comes up to Paz greased back hair and all. It was almost dripping. And bell-bottom pants, you know, black, some kind of velvet material. And check it out, he had this bright red shirt on half unbuttoned. The carpet that guy had showing! Fuckin’ A! It was pouring out. The guy had no shame.

Paz: Nasty.

Ivo: What’s wrong with hair on your chest?

Paz: Nothing. It was the overall package.

Clemens: I don’t know what he was thinking. And he was wearing sunglasses.

Emile: In a club!

(They all laugh.)

Clemens: So he slides on up to Paz. I saw it coming, man. I saw it fuckin’ coming. You know, she was with Drusus and Rice and me. But this guy, he just pushes his way in between us and starts grinding his hips at her. You know, at first she’s trying to ignore him but then he grabs her.

Emile: Oh no, he didn’t.

Paz: He did.

(Telephone rings. Paz picks it up. She listens for a moment but then her attention turns back to Clemens.)

Clemens: So Paz tells this guy to fuck off. She didn’t hit him or anything.

Paz (to everyone): I was having fun. No reason to spoil it. (in phone) Oh, nothing.

Clemens: But this guy, he can’t take a hint. Next thing you know he’s got his pelvis attached to Paz’ ass and the next thing I know he’s lying on the floor and Paz is standing over him shouting and throws her beer on him!

(They all laugh.)

Emile: I love it!

Clemens: And I was thinking, fuckin’ A!

Paz: I’d do it again. (in phone): I’m sorry, could you repeat that?

Emile: Hey, Paz, you kick him in the balls, too?

Ivo: Oh yeah, I forgot about that.

Email: In the supermarket. Right?

Paz: Yup. Pretended he was going for a can of tomatoes and latched on to one of my breasts. (in phone) Nothing.

Clemens: They kicked her out, too.

Paz: Can you believe it? They let the creep stay.

Clemens: He wanted to call the police.

Paz (in phone): What? No. I wasn’t listening. (pauses then hangs up and sits up)

Ivo: Who was it, Paz?

Paz: I don’t know. Some telemarketer.

(Clemens sits down next to Paz and takes out a pack of smokes. Paz and Ivo ask for one.)

Ivo: Light?

Clemens: Don’t got one.

Ivo: What do you mean, you don’t got one?

Clemens: I don’t got one! Which word didn’t you understand?

Paz: There are matches in the kitchen.

(Exit Ivo.)

Paz: Emile, you working tomorrow?

Emile: Yeah.

Paz: What time you heading into town?

Emile: About two. What’s up?

Paz: Can I use your computer while you’re gone?

Emile: Sure. I know you guys use it anyway when I’m not here.

Paz: Just don’t lock your door.

(Enter Ivo. He retakes his seat. His cigarette is lit. He passes it to Paz, who lights hers, who passes it to Clemens, who lights his. Ivo takes his back from Clemens.)

Emile: Hey, Clemens, I heard about a job you might like.

Clemens: Like? Yo, man, I just got over a job. Why would I want another?

Emile: I thought you wanted a job.

Clemens (to Ivo): You talking about that new LP dump down by the water?

Paz: Yeah.

Clemens: You gonna head down there?

Ivo: If I can get a ride.

Clemens: I’ll come with.

Ivo: If you want.

Ivo: I don’t take the bus. Anyway, I gotta take a leak.

Paz: Too much information, Ivo.

(Exit Ivo.)

Clemens: I’d really like to check out that LP dump, too.

Emile: Maybe you could get a job there.

Paz: How’s he gonna get down there every day without a car?

Clemens: He wants me to dress up like a clown and get people drunk.

Emile: You could take the bus.

Clemens: Sure. I could get the people on the bus drunk, too.

Emile: None of us has a car.

Paz: None of us needs one.

Clemens: Think they make you dress up at the LP dump?

Clemens: C’mon, fuckwit. I mean if you work there.

Paz: They pollute. And think of all the space wasted on roads.

Clemens: We need roads. It’s a good thing. What else would the cars drive on?

Emile: If they do, they probably don’t make you drive around in a hotdog.

Paz: No, we need to get rid of the cars. Then we wouldn’t need the roads!

(Enter Ivo.)

Clemens: Well, how would people get around?

Emile: Certainly not in a hotdog.

Clemens, Paz (together): What?

Ivo: What the hell are you guys talking about?

Ivo (to Clemens): You got a new job? Dude, that was quick.

(A long confused moment of silence.)

(Stage rights dims to blackness. Stage left illuminated. Elvis’ Office. Elvis and Cramer present. Elvis is using his laptop.)

(Elvis taps away for a moment.)

Elvis: Right. When I’ve printed out this list, go get it from the printer and make the rounds. Call the numbers in order – in order! – until you find a suitable candidate.

Cramer: Are you sure this is a good idea, Elvis?

Elvis: Of course it’s a good idea. Anyway, we’ve worked with these people before. You’ll know most of the names.

Cramer: But we’ve never planted the spies ourselves. I mean, when we wanted people watched. We always went through Lars. You know, to make it –

Elvis: Legal?

Cramer: Well, yes.

Elvis: I don’t want the police involved. I don’t trust them. We’ll handle this ourselves.

Cramer: Why?

Elvis: By Jove, man, isn’t it obvious? Look, who knows what kind of information we’ll discover. What we’ll find out. If we go through the police, we won’t have the initiative. They might not even tell us. Sometimes I think that Chief of Police –

Cramer: Lars.

Elvis: Sometimes I think he has his own agenda. Anyway, the fewer who know about what we’re doing, the better.

Cramer: Ah.

Elvis: I have plans.

Cramer: Of course.

Elvis: I don’t want to sit in this office forever, you know. There’s a bigger office somewhere. A bigger desk. A better view.

Cramer: Can I come with you, boss?

Elvis: Sure. Now, you said you found a few more squat houses? Ones not on the list?

Cramer: Yes. Right now we’re combing through the electric companies’ records looking for active accounts that don’t pay.

Elvis: Cramer, Cramer. Isn’t that illegal?

Cramer: Not since we privatized them, boss. Now electricity is private property and the owners can do with it what they like.

Elvis: Didn’t I think of that?

Cramer: Of course, Elvis. With a little help from me. Now, about the police. I think it would be a good idea to involve them, at least in some minimal way. We’ve got to cover our asses.

Elvis: I’m going to print out an updated copy of the squatters’ list, too. Could you pick it up and file it?

Cramer: What if our spy’s cover gets blown and he rats and it gets traced back to us?

Elvis: To you, you mean.

Cramer: Fine. To me. What then?

Elvis: I cut you loose and hang you out to dry. (pause, after which Elvis breaks into a huge grin.) Just kidding.

Cramer: I know, boss.

Elvis: Never happen, Cramer. We’re not intending on gaining evidence. We have plenty of that – through the police – administered wiretaps, mind you.

Cramer: What kind of information then?

Elvis: Which reminds me, make sure you tell whoever you pick – run it by me first – that it’s a setup job. If he goes down, we’ll pay him extra to keep his mouth shut.

Cramer: It’ll be expensive if it means jail time.

Elvis: I know some judges. And the Chief of Police.

Cramer: What kind of information are you after?

Elvis: Cramer, there’s one thing I can’t stand in life, and that’s freeloaders. Why? Because while the rest of us are contending with modern life, they’re out there enjoying each and every day. Having fun. Probably lots of sex, too. It’s got to stop.

Cramer: I’m losing you, boss.

Elvis: You idiot! I’m wasting my time! Once we arrest these people, expensive lawyers hired by tree-hugging liberal groups are going to sprout up to defend them! We’ll need valid evidence in a court of law that they are terrorists. That’s easy enough. There’s hardly a definition except you have to be afraid of them. The real value of the trial will come out of the court of public opinion, and no valid evidence is required for that. It’s all innuendo backed up by rumor and – well, anything. We can be forced to retract something the next day but it doesn’t matter, the damage will already have been done. Our agent will provide material that we’ll feed to the newspapers and really low quality news outlets, like Fox. We’ll describe the drug use. The long, sleepless nights and the afternoons turned into mornings. All the perverse sexual acts. Homosexuality.

Cramer: But what if none of that is actually going on?

Elvis: Don’t you doubt it. But even if it isn’t, well, it doesn’t have to be true. It just has to seem true. And for that we need to observe them. Then, when we make specific accusations –

Cramer: In the court of public opinion.

Elvis: - if we include a few kernels of inane truth – some silly few details, but very intimate, very revealing – and we show that those are true, in the court of public opinion it will seem as though it’s all true, even the most outrageous things we’ve made up.

Cramer: Christ, Elvis. You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought. It worries me. Aren’t there other things we could be doing?

Elvis: What do you mean?

Cramer: Well, what’s the point of all this? This whole operation? We’re going to spend valuable time and resources expelling a bunch of squatters who pose no threat –

Elvis: My God, man, can’t you listen? They’re going to rob banks!

Cramer: And who told you this?

Elvis: Lars.

Cramer: You believe everything he says?

Elvis: He showed me the tapes.

Cramer: All right, all right. So they’re going to rob the banks. Fat chance. And even if they really try, that’s what the police are for. Let them do their job. We’ve got other things to worry about. Like unemployment. And poverty. And the roads and bridges.

Elvis: We’re going to sell them off. What’s the point?

Cramer: We’re going to sell off the poor?

Elvis: Eventually. To the highest bidder! And we know who that will be.

Cramer: Did MBA put you up to this?

Elvis: Put me up to this? Put me up? You make it sound like I don’t make my own decisions!

Cramer: MBA wants to speculate on the property, doesn’t he?

Elvis: Of course he wants to speculate on the property!

Cramer: Look, Elvis, I’m only trying to look out for our interests. Usually I’m capable of doing that. But now it seems you’ve got some strange p –

Elvis: Yes?

Cramer: - strange political enemies hiding in wait for you to show any sign of weakness! How shrewd, sir! How brilliant! You strike with such a well calculated plan!

Elvis: Thank you.

Cramer: Please forgive me for not realizing it earlier. The sheer ingenuity threw me off.

Elvis: I understand.

Cramer: I don’t know how it could be that I, your humble servant, let all this slip by.

Elvis: You’re only human, Cramer.

Cramer: Do I still have your confidence, boss?

Elvis: Of course you do.

Cramer: I will try harder.

Elvis: That’s good enough for me. So, now you must understand that we’re not after the squatters at all.

Cramer: We’re not? But –

Elvis: Let me finish, Cramer. Your problem is that you don’t listen. Yes, they want to rob the banks. We’ll get them for that. That’s what Lars thinks. But really, that’s just an added bonus. What I’m really after is the credit. The credit for getting my piece of the public used to these new treason trials, getting them to go along with it. And of course they’ll go along with it! When I parade a bunch of lazy sloths in front of them with revolting personal habits planning on running away with their hard earned cash, they won’t care what set of laws we throw at them. They’ll be crowing for their blood! It’ll be like Waco, Texas all over again! And each time they go along with it, the easier the next set of treason trials will be. And the next time the charges won’t have to be so legit, eh?

Cramer: Why would you want to do that?

Elvis: My career! That’s why. The people at the top will take notice. I’ll move up. I wasn’t elected, you know.

Cramer: Can I come with you, boss?

Elvis: I really do hate freeloaders.

Cramer: I guess that’s why you picked the squatters.

Elvis: Not really. The opportunity just arose. When Lars showed me those tapes. But you’re right. In a way they are treasonous. I’m doing the public a service.

Cramer: Hey, boss, can I hang a picture of you in my office?

Elvis: Not yet, Cramer. Not yet.

(Stage left falls into darkness. State right illuminated. Squatters’ Living Room. Clemens and Emile are standing. Paz is sitting, phone in her lap, smoking a cigarette. Music plays in the background.)

Emile (to Clemens): So, you got the job?

Paz (in phone): I told you she was seeing somebody else.

Clemens: Yeah, can you believe it? Have to take the bus, though.

Emile: Never would have thought you’d be selling records.

Clemens: Beats handing out cigarettes. Did you see that wig they wanted me to walk around in?

(Enter Ivo. He sits on the other couch.)

Emile: Work your way up?

Clemens: Yeah, the first few weeks it’s unloading trucks.

Clemens: The manager thought I was cute.

Ivo: The manager was a guy.

Clemens: So? I’m not going to bed with him or anything.

Paz (in phone): Circumcised?

Emile: Ivo’s jealous.

Ivo: I’m not jealous.

Clemens: Freeloader.

Ivo: I’ve got to live with him and now I’ve got to see him on my free time, too.

Paz (in phone): Yeah, I don’t like them, either. They need lubrication. Pain in the ass. Anyway, they look funny without a little cap.

Clemens: Good way to meet chicks. Did you see those pair of blonds came in after us?

(Paz giggles.)

Clemens: Twice the pleasure.

Emile: I thought you like brunettes.

Ivo: Good way to meet guys, apparently.

Clemens: Hey, look, I’m not the one with the checkered past. Am I, Ivo?

Emile: I love it. Can’t you guys stop it for a just a little while? (Sits next to Ivo; to Ivo) Anyway, maybe you’re looking at a discount.

Paz (in phone): Call you later, okay?

Ivo: Can you?

Clemens: Can I what?

Ivo: Give me a discount.

Clemens: Maybe. Not at first. Give me a few weeks.

Paz (in phone): Ciao. (hangs up; puts phone on floor.)

Ivo: Sweet.

Emile: Hey, Paz, you hear? Clemens got a job.

Paz: The beer gig?

Clemens: Turns out it was cigarettes.

Paz: I thought it was strange handing out beer. Cigarettes?

Clemens: Yeah, but I’m not doing that, either.

Emile: Lonely Records.

Paz: Isn’t that the place down by the –

Ivo: That’s the one. Says I’ll get a discount.

Emile: (to Ivo): You spinning tonight?

Ivo: Over at the Korsacoff.

Paz (standing up): Really? Karina just told me Drusus and Luz are gonna head to the park tonight. Caribbean festival, food and music. The good stuff. I’m thinking of going along.

Clemens: You just want to get your hands on Drusus.

(Exit Clemens)

Ivo: Free?

Paz: She didn’t say. But it’s in the park.

Emile: I’ll skip the park. But I’ll hear you spin if you can get me in for free.

Paz: So you’re gonna sit here and smoke until then?

Emile: For a few hours.

Paz: Why don’t you come with us. You can head over to the Korsacoff after.

Emile: Because I don’t want to.

Paz: You shouldn’t smoke so much.

Emile: I like it.

(Exit Paz)

Emile: Can you get me in?

Ivo: Just sms me about fifteen minutes before you show up.

Emile: Like last time.

Ivo: You might have to wait again.

Emile: Got anything new cooking?

Ivo: I’ve been working over at Rice’s, on his G5. Got some jazzy funk goin.

Emile: What, like Laurent Garnier?

Ivo: Something like that. I’ve got my own style.

(Stage left illuminated. Elvis’ Office. A band of darkness still separates both sides of the stage. Cramer is present at small desk next to Elvis’. The chair is so small he looks like an adult riding on a child’s bike. His knees come almost up to his chest. He is dialing his miniature telephone. He is obviously tired and annoyed.)

Emile: Of course. You gonna play that at the Korsacoff?

Ivo: God, no!

Emile: Jees, I didn’t think so.

Ivo (barking like a seal): Ar! Ar! Ar! Anyway, it’s not ready. Tonight will be a standard hard mix. I have a few ready. You’ve heard them.

(Cramer stops dialing and listens. The phone is so small that he can’t speak and listen at the same time.)

Emile: You’re not going to play the same mix as last time?

(Telephone in Squatters’ Living Room rings)

Ivo: No mix is ever exactly the same. You know that.

Emile: Yeah, you told me. Depends on your mood.

Ivo: What?

Emile: What you choose. How you blend it.

Ivo: Sure.

Emile: But that’s not what I meant.

Ivo: Okay.

(Enter Paz)

Paz: Can’t you guys pick up the phone?

(Exit Emile, Ivo)

(Paz picks up phone staring after them in annoyance. She sits on the couch, phone in her lap.)

Paz (in phone): Yeah?

Cramer (in phone): You know who this is?

Paz: Should I?

Cramer: I’m acting on behalf of the mayor. We need your services. Again.

Paz: You mean good ol’ von Scrotum?

Cramer: Elvis.

Paz: Von Balls?

Cramer: Excuse me?

Paz: What ever could he want with me?

(Enter Ivo)

Cramer: The usual. Some people need to be watched. Close hand. No police. We need an infiltrator. Somebody who they’d accept as one of their own.

Ivo: Hey, Paz, got any smokes?

Paz: A spy? How interesting! Who?

Cramer: A bunch of squatters. Not a very dangerous assignment, I know. We’re going to nail them but we need some additional information. Who they are, where they come from, how they live. Who they fuck. Hello?

(Exit Ivo)

Paz: I’m here. Squatters?

Cramer: Look, I know it sounds stupid. There’s to be no police involvement. You will report directly to me. To Elvis.

Paz: Nail them?

Cramer (in phone): Listen. There will be some amount of risk involved. The house is already being watched. If you’re found out, you’re on your own.

Paz: What for? What are you going to nail them for?

Cramer: It doesn’t matter. We’ll reward you amply.

Paz: Which squatters?

Cramer: Well, we’re going to nail them all, actually. But we only need one house observed. It’s across from the old gas company –

(Slowly Paz hangs up. She sits staring.)

(Cramer, upset, is about to redial when he starts at the paper he is holding and throws it down in surprise. Cramer sits staring.)

(Brief moment of silence.)

Cramer: O, shit.

(Enter Ivo)

Ivo: Hey, Paz, got any smokes?

Paz: We’re fucked.

Ivo: No cigarettes in the house at all?

Paz: I’m serious!

Ivo: Paz, take a pill. Someone will go get some.

Paz: That was the mayor on the phone.

Ivo: Von Schlumpf himself? Are you serious?

Paz: Someone from his office. They’re going to bust us.

Ivo: When?

(Enter Emile)

Emile: Couldn’t find any, Ivo?

Ivo: Check this out, Emile.

Emile: What?

Paz: He didn’t say when.

(Enter MBA)

MBA: Cramer, you look like the subject of an external audit.

Emile: Jees, Paz, you’re pale. That’s not funny, Ivo –

Cramer: I just did something incredibly stupid.

Ivo: Paz thinks they’re gonna bust us.

Paz: No way, man. No way.

Emile: Bust us? When?

MBA: If you want advice on Enterprise Resource Planning and how to combine it with supply chain management, you can’t do better than Larry Pezinsky.

Ivo: It doesn’t make sense. Why would they ring us up?

Cramer: Maybe I should ring back.

Emile: Who was on the phone, Paz?

(Enter Clemens)

MBA: Can you describe the business case?

Paz: Look, will you all just shut up for a second? Listen. We just got a call. It was a bloke. Asking for a spy or something like that.

Cramer: The lists got mixed up, MBA. I called the wrong number. Now they know.

(Clemens turns the music off.)

Paz: To spy on a bunch of squatters.

Emile: We’re squatters.

Clemens: Shut up, Emile.

MBA: I wasn’t included in the memos that lead up to this discussion. You can hardly expect me to update the project plan to meet the fresh challenges presented by a dynamic global marketplace.

Paz: The squat he wanted spied on is right across from the old gas company.

Cramer: Oh, I see, backing out on me now, MBA? I don’t think so.

(short moment of silence)

Ivo: It doesn’t mean he wants to bust us.

Paz: Don’t you think that’s weird? That someone would want to spy on us?

Cramer: I could ring back and pretend it was a crank call.

Paz: No way, man. No way.

Clemens: It was a crank call. That’s all. Probably Drusus or Rice.

Paz: I would have recognized the voice, Clem!

Emile: How do you go from spying to getting busted?

Ivo: Why would they want to spy on us?

Clemens (to Ivo): Will you two shut up for a moment?

Ivo: Who made you boss? (to Paz) You said it was the mayor?

Clemens: Eikel?

Emile: It was the mayor.

Paz: It wasn’t dickhead! It was someone claiming to be from his office!

Clemens: What a crock of shit.

(Cramer leans over his desk, picks up the tiny receiver, and dials. MBA sits in one of the chairs in front of Elvis’ desk and watches closely.)

Clemens: Paz, you really gonna fall for it?

Ivo: Gotta be a crank call, Paz. Why would anyone want to spy on us?

Paz: It didn’t sound like it.

Emile: Like what?

Paz: A crank call!

Emile: Well, what’s a crank call supposed to sound like, anyway?

(Phone rings. They all stare at it a moment and all reach for it at the same time. Clemens picks it up, but Paz wrestles it away from him. Clemens sits next to Paz, Emile on other couch. Ivo remains standing.)

Paz (in phone): Hello?

Cramer (in phone): Please disregard the last phone call. It was a joke.

Paz: A joke?

Cramer: Yes, it was my son. I hope he didn’t cause you any inconvenience.

Paz: But it was you.

Cramer: It was my son. He’s a troublemaker –

Paz: No, it was you. I recognize the voice.

Cramer: We sound alike.

Paz: Exactly alike?

(Clemens reaches for phone and Paz slaps his hand away. MBA is feverishly taking notes.)

Cramer: You’ve got to believe me.

Paz: Then you’re going to have to come up with something better than that.

Cramer (frustrated at his tiny phone; to himself): Jesus fucking Christ!

Paz: What?

Cramer: Look, you’re going down as it is. You don’t have to take me with you.

Paz: Shit, I got it!

Clemens: What?

Paz: I know who you are!

Cramer: What? Impossible. You’ve never met me before.

Paz: Sure, but I’ve seen you on TV plenty of times. I recognize the voice. Good thing you called back.

(Silence)

(Cramer hangs up.)

(Paz hangs up.)

Clemens: Well?

Ivo: What happened?

MBA: How’s the market doing?

Paz: No way, man. No way.

Cramer: I’m fucked.

Ivo: That bad?

Clemens: Take a deep breath, Paz. Pull yourself together. You said you know who it was?

Cramer: She knows who I am.

Emile: Why would somebody call back to let us know it was a crank call?

Cramer: I shouldn’t have called back.

Clemens: Yo, becerro, if you can’t make sense keep your fucking hole shut!

MBA (standing): Well, I ought to be getting to my next meeting about now.

Ivo: It wasn’t a crank call, Emile.

Paz (putting phone on floor and standing): I gotta split.

(Exit Paz.)

Emile: It wasn’t a crank?

Cramer: Hold on a sec. You’re not going anywhere.

Ivo (approaching exit): Hey, Paz!

Clemens: Leave her alone, Ivo. Right now we’ve got to figure out what to do.

MBA: But, Cramer, I haven’t developed a business case for meeting this particular challenge.

Ivo (standing by exit): Well that’s obvious! We have to go after Paz and when she calms down she has to tell us everything. We don’t even know what’s going on!

Emile: We know it wasn’t a crank phone call.

Cramer: You’re coming with me, MBA. We’re going to figure out what next.

Ivo: And don’t use the phone anymore.

Clemens: Why?

Ivo: You never know.

MBA: But my next meeting –

Clemens: Good thinking, Ivo.

Cramer: - will wait.

Ivo: Let’s go.

(They all exit on their respective sides of the stage. Lights out on both sides of stage. A long moment of darkness. Stage left illuminated. Elvis’ Office. Elvis is sitting in his chair, facing audience. As he says “I don’t know how many hours”, he slowly swivels the chair around and turns his back on the audience. Likewise, as he says, “I hate my name”, the lights slowly begin to fade. When Elvis finishes speaking, they should just have gone out.)

Elvis (to audience): I fell in love once. It was a terrible experience. I hope it never happens again. When I was a boy I lived with my parents in a valley. The mountains rose up in front of our house and behind, thick with woods. The trees were tall and thin with dark, green, greasy leaves, the branches reedy and creased. There were paths into the mountains, and sometimes I would go, but you had to be careful. There were snakes and spiders and, much higher up, scorpions. On the highest peaks, where the air was cold, there were monkeys swinging among the treetops or just hanging on. But those weren’t our mountains. My father told me stories about them. Our mountains weren’t that high. I don’t know how many hours I spent – when my mother sent me outside to play – watching the clouds gather at the peaks. The river gods live up there. That’s the thing about river gods: there’s more than one, although from what I remember they all look alike. The river gods lived over our valley, at or near the peaks, and most of the time they just gathered clouds to themselves. The river gods like the clouds, you see, and feel comfortable in them, like we do with clothes. I would watch. Huge, thick masses of vapor, magnificent sculptures, constantly convulsing and collapsing, clutching the tips of the mountains, sometimes sinking lower. And then the wind – I think the wind god gets jealous, or simply has nothing better to do, or maybe it’s a game they play – the wind would tear them into chunks, stretching this part and pulling that and then scatter them across the sky. Then the mountain peaks were exposed, and the river gods would begin again. But sometimes the river gods would descend into the valley. The wind god worked with them on those occasions and the clouds thick and menacing covered all the sky, and the river gods would ride the tops of them into our valley, and it would rain. It always rained the heaviest when a rain god was directly overhead. Of course, sometimes the river gods would stay in the mountains when they rode the clouds, stomping their feet and creating great flashes of lightning, and thunder. It was magnificent to watch. But even then the water would pour off the mountains into the valley, and even though we needed the water for our crops, oftentimes the water damaged the roads, collapsed the rickety bridges. Or caused the earth to move, to slide down the mountain and destroy everything in its path. Sometimes people died. You see, that is the way of the gods. They act on their own whims and take little notice of us, if any. Which is probably why they seem to our eyes so capricious. But really, they take no account of us at all in their plans. There was a girl who lived not far away up the valley. As I got older, I began to notice her more and more. I pined for her attention and did anything I could to be near to her, invented any excuse. It doesn’t matter now what she looked like, but to my eyes she was the most beautiful creature in the world. She was a living spark of the Universe planted next door. I dreamed about her, lay in bed awake at night trying to figure out how and when I could see her next. But I was shy, and I couldn’t tell her how I felt. I thought – I thought she’d just notice. One day I came by on my bicycle and found her kissing another boy. I ran home. For the next few years I hated him – I hated all the boys she was with – but I hoped somehow that she secretly harbored feelings for me and that one day, one day – It was torture. I tortured myself. I kept coming by in the hope that one day that day would come. Then she got married. I left that valley soon after. I left the rain gods and the mountains and the woods behind and I came here, where everything is steel and cement and even what green there is looks tame, subdued. There are no gods here. Soon after I decided that people should call me Elvis. Rich and powerful people can get away with such things. People want to please us, so they go to great lengths to indulge our egos. Elvis was a popular guy, you see, and I want to be popular, too. And since love was not to be mine, I decided to bask in my power, because love and power are really the only important things in life, and at least I would have one of them. I am a man, and I have been given the life of a man. It could be much worse, you know. There are some people who have neither. I hate my name. I hate that valley. When my parents died, I sold the house. I hate that girl, too. But the truth is, and I know it in the bottom of my heart, the part I’ve never been able to numb, that if ever I saw her again and she wanted me back, I’d go to her without a moment’s hesitation.

(Lights out stage left. Entire stage should now be steeped in darkness. A very brief pause. Stage right illuminated. Squatters’ Living Room. Music plays in the background. Ivo, Clemens present. They are sitting next to each other on one of the couches, slouching. TV is on with no sound. Music plays.)

(Ivo lets out a loud, hearty laugh.)

Ivo: Of course we won’t run out of telephone numbers! They’ll just keep adding new digits.

Clemens: What about the old numbers?

Ivo: I don’t know. They automatically get a one or something. Or they create new area codes.

Clemens: What about all the routing equipment?

Ivo: They’ll update it.

Clemens: That will cost a lot of money. You know how they hate to spend money.

Ivo: They certainly love to take ours.

Clemens: And it will take a lot of time and work.

Ivo: So? That’s the business they chose. Anyway, you were talking about running out of telephone numbers, not how hard it would be to add more.

Clemens: That’s what I meant.

Ivo: It’s not the same thing. You said –

Clemens: I asked, what will we do when we run out?

Ivo: We’ll add more.

Clemens: Right.

Ivo: Speaking of which, we shouldn’t stop talking on the phone entirely, you know. If the line’s tapped –

Clemens: I think that’s a given, isn’t it?

Ivo: Then the last thing we should do is alert them that something’s up.

Clemens: Don’t they know we know already?

Ivo: I don’t think so.

Clemens: What do you mean? Didn’t some guy –

Ivo: He knows we know, yeah. But I don’t think he’s told anyone else.

Clemens: Yeah?

Ivo: Clemens, the guy fucked up! Paz said he sounded desperate. He’s not going to go broadcasting that to his boss.

Clemens: So what’s he gonna do?

(Ivo shrugs)

Clemens: Fuckin’ A. Who is this guy anyway?

Ivo: Dunno. Cramer is his name. Paz said she’s seen him on TV. Mayor’s lackey.

Clemens: Oh yeah, what’s his name – van Schlurp or something?

Ivo: Von Schlumpf.

Clemens: Yeah, well, what kind of parents –

(Enter Paz, Emile, Florencia carrying beers and Drusus. Ivo and Clemens stand up. They all greet each other and begin talking excitedly but quietly amongst themselves.)

(Left side of stage illuminated. Elvis’ Office. Cramer and MBA present. They are sitting in the chairs in front of Elvis’ empty desk.)

MBA: Cramer, I’m a strategic services supplier. I had no ownership of this project whatsoever.

Cramer: You were in the room with me. You were taking notes.

MBA: I was present merely in the capacity of an observer. One of my goals as stated on my curriculum vitae is to expand learning outside these four walls.

Cramer: I’ll tell him you handed me the list.

MBA: You can issue whatever status report you like. Vlad clearly awarded project ownership to you –

Cramer: We’ve both been working on this and he knows it. And you handed me the list.

MBA: You should have verified it.

Cramer: C’mon, MBA! I’ve like, you know, helped you in the past! Remember those environmental laws? You were gonna have to pay some hefty penalties. Remember?

MBA: That was a number of budgets ago.

Cramer: A year or two is not a long time. And what about stifling the reports of that big archaeological find when they were digging the foundations of your new World Trade Tower? That could have delayed construction for years. Or stopped it entirely!

MBA: What have you done for me lately?

Cramer: MBA, listen to me. We go a long way back. We know each other well. You wanna start over again with somebody else? I’ve grown to like you, MBA. It’s true. Doesn’t that count for something?

MBA: I don’t see any rings on these fingers.

Cramer: Jesus and Mary, Mother of God! MBA, all I’m asking is that you keep your mouth shut! At least for a little while. Till I’ve worked things out.

MBA: Well, perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement. To our mutual satisfaction.

(Cramer grimaces. They exit, MBA with his arm around Cramer’s shoulders. Stage left falls in darkness.)

(The squatters have seated themselves on the couches by now. Florencia and Paz are seated next to each other on one couch, Clemens and Drusus on the other. Emile and Ivo are sitting on the floor. Music still plays in the background.)

(Emile pulls out a cigarette.)

Emile: Sure, Florencia.

(Emile hands Florencia a cigarette. Ivo and Drusus gesture for one as well but Emile shakes his head no.)

Emile (to Clemens): There’s one of her and three of you!

Clemens (to Paz, Florencia): I thought we were trying to be serious.

Drusus (to Ivo): So, how much time do you think we have?

Clemens: Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?

Florencia: Paz, I still think you gotta get back in touch with this guy. What’s his name again?

Clemens, Ivo, Emile (together): Cramer.

Emile: I may not be the sharpest guy here, but calling doesn’t seem like such a good idea to me.

Florencia: Why not? This guy’s already screwed up twice before, hasn’t he? And just by talking.

Drusus: It’s risky.

Clemens: The whole situation is risky, Drusus. No matter –

Drusus: Fine, well calling him up is even riskier.

Clemens: Drusus, everything is risky. Whatever we decide to do.

Drusus: It’s a stupid idea.

Florencia (standing up): I see. Well, look, if all my suggestions are like stupid –

Paz: Flor –

Clemens: Don’t take it that way, Flor. Look, everyone’s stressed –

Paz (to Flor): Where are you going?

(Exit Flor)

Paz: Guys –

Emile: What?

Paz: Drusus, she’s sensitive!

Drusus: Sorry, Paz. I didn’t mean it like that. But this is serious.

Ivo: We’ve got to stay focused.

Emile: We don’t have much time.

(Exit Paz)

Clemens: We don’t know how much time we have.

(short silence)

Clemens: This guy Cramer. Maybe he’s not going to tell anybody else. But he sure could do whatever it takes to speed things up.

(longer silence)

Ivo: You really think it’s possible to get any more information out of this Cramer dude?

Clemens: I don’t know. But it’s worth a try.

Emile: It’s not like we have anything to loose.

Drusus: We could piss him off. Even more.

Clemens: Maybe he’ll let something else slip.

(Enter Paz, Flor. They sit.)

Drusus: Look, Flor -.

Florencia: I’m fine.

Paz (to Florencia): You know I’m really glad you decided to stay. (They embrace)

Clemens: Yo, look, the girls are having a tender moment.

Ivo: Hey, guys –

Drusus: You gals wanna hear what we figured out we’re gonna do?

Paz: Figured out? Figured out? Hon, we got that squared away ten minutes ago.

Emile: Really?

Florencia: Yeah.

Paz (to Florencia): It’s not their fault. Guys are slower by nature.

Drusus (to Clemens): What’s this bullshit? Are they in or what?

Florencia (to Paz): Let’s see. I’ll bet they want to like drive over there in an Abrams tank and blow up his house.

(Short silence)

Paz: No way, man. No way.

Florencia: Guys are so predictable.

Drusus: So what’s your great idea?

Florencia: We already told you.

Paz: I’m gonna call him up.

Ivo: They want to blackmail him.

Drusus: But I thought –

Ivo: Don’t argue, Drusus.

Clemens: Shit.

Ivo: Look, let’s try it their way first. If that doesn’t work –

Clemens: C’mon! It’s a waste of –

Ivo: It will make the gals happy, Clemens. That’s a good thing. It’s just a few hours.

Clemens: Alright.

Drusus: Fine.

Emile: Glad we got that sorted out. What about the whiz kid?

(They all turn and stare sharply at Emile.)

(Stage right remains illuminated. The squatters remain frozen looking at Emile this way. Stage left illuminated. Elvis’ Office. Cramer and MBA are present. MBA stands in front of Elvis’ desk and Cramer is pacing wildly.)

Cramer: Those rats!

MBA: I gather that the squatters have been busy capitalizing on change?

Cramer: Vermin! Living in the sewers!

MBA: Or is it their operational paradigm?

Cramer: Mold and mildew! Growing in the bathroom!

MBA: Perhaps metrics management?

Cramer: Wilderbeasts!

MBA: What?

Cramer: Toe lint. All of them. Whoever they are. Once we have our hands on them, they’ll regret it. I’ll make sure of it.

MBA: I’m sorry, Cramer, but you’ll have to update me on the new service level targets.

Cramer: I don’t know what I’m going to do, MBA.

MBA: Remember: Simplification. Standardization. Modularity.

Cramer: What? What?

MBA:  Integration.

Cramer: By Jove and all the gods and saints that have ever sat in heaven above, why can’t you make sense when you speak?

MBA: Profit is highly correlated to generating cash flow.

Cramer: Of course profit is related to cash flow! What are you talking about?

MBA: Listen, Cramer. Listen. It’s not a product. It’s something you build.

Cramer: Something I build?

MBA: It’s a journey you take.

Cramer (stops pacing and faces MBA): You’re going to go on a journey, my friend. Anyway, listen if you can. They called me up – that bitch, whatever her name is, called me up. And threatened to steal all the city’s money if I don’t tell her when the sting is planned for.

(Stage right falls into darkness.)

MBA: Remember: Simplification. Standardization –

Cramer (resuming pacing): Yeah, yeah, I know. I heard you the first time.

MBA: Cramer, aren’t you neglecting the fact that their project plan already called for that?

Cramer: No, no, you idiot! They were going to steal money from the banks! This is different. They’re gonna steal money from the city. From the city! It would look suspicious. He’d suspect something.

MBA: Who, Vlad?

Cramer: Elvis.

MBA: Ah, well, now that we’ve hit on this point, it seems an opportune time for you to kiss my feet.

Cramer (stops pacing, still distanced from MBA): You’re not going to take advantage, are you?

MBA: It’s part of the deal we closed, my friend. I have it here in writing in my pocket if you want to check. With your signature underneath.

Cramer: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

(Cramer approaches MBA, gets on his hands and knees and solidly kisses both of MBA’s feet. Stands up.)

Cramer: Now, where was I?

MBA: Vlad will suspect something.

Cramer: Elvis.

MBA: Right.

Cramer (resumes pacing): I guess I could just give them any old date. After the real date. Which will be hard, because I don’t even know when it is. Lars and Elvis are keeping a lid on this one.

MBA: If people work together in unison as a whole toward a common objective and avoid working at cross purposes at all levels, the ultimate in efficiency and achievement can be obtained.

Cramer: MBA, I’m warning you –

MBA: All I’m suggesting is that you farm out some market research to the current leaders in the security industry. They can find out for you.

Cramer (stop pacing and sits): Hmmmm. I don’t like it. Those guys all have contacts with the police. I don’t know what Lars is up to, but if he finds out I’m snooping around he’ll tell Elvis and I’d be fucked.

MBA: There’s no synergy between you and Lars.

Cramer: I wonder what he’s up to.

MBA: Remember, it’s a journey you take.

Cramer: There is one thing I could try, though. Elvis hates these squatters. It’s almost irrational. I could play on that. Get him to move up the time table. Why not? He’d probably be happy to hit them sooner rather than later. I wonder why he hasn’t –

(Enter Elvis. Cramer stands.)

Elvis: Good morning, gentleman. You, too, MBA. What a glorious day!

Cramer: Why’s that, boss?

Elvis: Because I have arrived! Now, listen. About those squatters. I’ve decided to speed things up a little.

Cramer: Speed things up?

Elvis: That’s right. Lars tells me there’s been a sudden and suspicious drop in phone activity. And when they do talk, they don’t tell us anything interesting anymore. It’s all grandma talk, if you know what I mean.

Cramer: You suspect something’s up, boss?

Elvis: We think it’s a kind of secret code. They may be getting ready to spring into action. We can’t let them slip through our fingers!

Cramer: This is wonderful news!

Elvis: Indeed it is, Cramer. But I didn’t realize you shared the same enthusiasm for crushing this evil terrorist organization.

MBA: Cramer.

Cramer: Yes, MBA? Isn’t this wonderful news?

MBA: I think it’s time.

Cramer: Time for what? You mean now?

MBA: Yes.

Cramer: But I just –

MBA: Now.

(Cramer gets on his knees and kisses both of MBA’s feet. He stands and sits down.)

Elvis: What was that all about?

Cramer: Oh, nothing, boss. Just a little arrangement worked out between MBA and I.

Elvis: Little arrangement? You kissed his feet, man! It must have been humiliating. I mean, I’ve heard about it, seen it in the movies maybe, but I’ve never actually seen it. And you just did, Cramer! Got down there on your hands and knees and you puckered up – I don’t think there could be anything more humiliating. Unless you had to do it naked, of course.

MBA: Excellent suggestion, Vlad.

Elvis: Call me Elvis!

Cramer: Don’t worry about it, boss.

Elvis: Now wait just one second. I know this bastard MBA well enough to know he’s got something on you. Something pretty big, I’d venture to guess. I hope it has nothing to do with your duties here in this office.

Cramer: No, sir! Of course not!

Elvis: Well, then, let’s see it.

Cramer: See what, sir?

Elvis: The contract. What else? MBA leaves a paper trail so high whatever he does sometimes it’s visible from space. Now hand it over.  Inquiring minds want to know.

MBA: I happen to have one here.

(Pulls a thick bundle of papers from an inside pocket, removes a few sheets, and hands it to Elvis.)

Elvis (scanning document): Well, let’s see. What do we have here? Parties do agree … under penalty of loss of exactly one kidney … binding under all circumstances real or imaginary … no such thing as God … ah, here we go! Party Cramer does agree to kiss both shoes of Party MBA upon request, regardless of time, situation, frequency, or manner of issuance. If Party MBA is not wearing shoes, there shall be understood feet, and all articles and clauses in this contract will still apply in their entirety. Both lips of Party Cramer must be planted firmly on the surface of each shoe and contact maintained for at least two whole seconds. The act of kissing must produce a sound that can easily be described as “juicy” or “hearty” and ring out clearly for all passersby to enjoy. The location must be on the top of each shoe, although party Cramer may request to substitute the bottom of the shoe at any time without penalty if he so desires … blah blah blah … Ah, yes! Party MBA agrees to come by once a week to residence of Party Cramer and shave his cat.

(Short silence)

Elvis: You’re not very good at making deals, are you?

Cramer: Elvis –

Elvis: You don’t have a cat!

Cramer: See, there are some things in life I can still be thankful for.

Elvis: Ah, an optimist. I appreciate that.

Cramer: Sure, Elvis.

Elvis: It’s always like this with MBA’s contracts. They never say what’s actually been agreed to. In fact, MBA is usually the only one who knows what’s been agreed to. (whispering) That’s why I usually avoid signing anything he gives me.

MBA: It’s true. I have a great deal of real world experience in this regard.

Elvis: You’re a cock and you know it.

MBA: Thank you.

Elvis: I thought you’d appreciate it.

(Stage left falls to darkness. Stage right illuminated. Squatters’ Living Room. Alberto, Florencia, Ivo, and Emile are present. The place is a complete mess – even more so than before. There are beer cans and bottles, some overturned, on the floor and on top of the television. Several ashtrays are overflowing; one at least is spilled over onto the floor. There are a few pizza boxes. The television is on but there is no sound and no one is watching. Ivo has a garbage bag and both he and Emile are cleaning up putting things into it. Alberto and Florencia are speaking together quietly in the space behind the couches off towards center stage. Florencia is smoking. She ashes on the floor. Music plays in the background.)

Emile: Jees, Ivo. What are we cleaning up for? We’re gonna be outa here in a few days anyway.

Ivo: Yeah, well, we still gotta live here and Luz, well, you know Luz.

Emile: It’s just gonna get dirty again.

Luz (offstage): Yous two is pigs! I sure as hell ain’t sharin’ no room with yous two. When we finally get outa here.

Ivo: Luz! Look, we’re cleaning!

Emile: Can never please the women.

Ivo: Sometimes. Well not you or me.

Emile: What do you mean?

Ivo (gesturing to Alberto and Florencia; whispering): What’d you think they have so much to talk about?

Emile: I dunno.

Ivo: You know they used to hook up for a while.

Emile: So?

Ivo: Well last night –

Florencia: Will you stop talking about us?

Alberto: You could at least wait till we leave the room.

Emile: Jees, you want us to ask?

Ivo: Hey, you guys mind leaving the room so we can talk?

Emile: They’re ignoring us.

Ivo (barking like a seal): Ar! Ar! Ar!

(Enter Paz. She has a vacuum cleaner which she leans up against a couch.)

Paz: Don’t forget to get under the couches.

Emile: What do you want us to do with that?

(Exit Paz.)

Emile (to Ivo): What does she want us to do with that?

Ivo: Vacuum, I guess.

Emile: But –

Florencia (loudly): Because, Alberto! I just don’t want to discuss it with you!

(Alberto continues to talk quietly.)

(Enter Clemens. He looks at the pair talking, pauses, turns and is about to leave.)

Ivo: Clemens. Hey, Clemens. Whiz kid get here yet?

Clemens: No. Any ideas where to hide him?

Emile: Can’t stay here.

Ivo: How about a fast food joint? He loves fat, greasy hamburgers soaked in sugar water.

Florencia (loudly, to Alberto): Stop saying that!

Ivo: Can’t get enough of ‘em.

(Exit Clemens.)

(short silence)

Ivo: You know, I don’t get how this whole money thing is gonna work.

Emile: Don’t worry. Me and the whiz kid got it all under control.

(Exit Florencia. Alberto approaches and flops on a couch.)

Alberto: You guys wanna stop by our place later on? Could use some cleaning.

Emile: Real funny, Alberto.

Alberto: Whiz kid here yet?

Ivo: Mind helping us?

Alberto: What the hell you cleaning up for anyway?

Luz (offstage): We’s havin’ a pow-wow tonight.

(Enter Clemens and Florencia.)

Ivo: So the money gets routed through all these banks and finally it all ends up in a bank in the Caribbean.

Clemens: That’s right.

Ivo: Whose account is it?

Alberto: Mine and Drusus.

Florencia: But you two – I didn’t think you like get along very well.

Alberto: Yeah.

Clemens (to Florencia): Works out, doesn’t it? Neither one trusts the other.

Alberto: That’s why we need the whiz kid.

Ivo: Why?

Clemens: We just explained it, fuckwit.

Ivo: Alberto, why?

Emile: Because while we’re sitting in an airplane, a program will be running – actually, a series of programs – that will automatically move the money around.

Clemens: And by the time we arrive, the account will be full. Right, Emile?

(Enter Drusus.)

Emile: Right.

Clemens: Fuckin’ A.

Drusus: Still no sign of the whiz kid.

Florencia: Does he have a real name?

Ivo: You can write a program that does all that?

Emile: Sure.
Florencia: What’s his name?

Drusus: Something in Russian, I think.

Alberto: Of course it’s in Russian! He’s from Russia, isn’t he?

(Enter Paz and Luz.)

Luz: I don’t see nobody cleanin’.

Drusus: Don’t take that tone with me, Alberto.

Ivo (to Emile): But don’t you have to enter in a one-time code? Every time you want to transfer the money?

(Exit Florencia and Clemens.)

Alberto (to Luz): Hey, baby doll.

Luz: Don’t “baby doll” me, Alberto. Get up off your ass and start pickin’ summa this shit up.

(Alberto stands and goes to Luz and grabs her around the waist. She pretends to resist but she likes it.)

Paz (looking in pizza box): No way, man. No way.

Emile (to Ivo): One-time code? What do you mean?

Alberto: Where’d Florencia go?

Luz (to Alberto): Don’t you mind. She’s with Clemens. (to Paz) What?

Ivo: If I transfer money from my account I have to go through this whole process.

Paz: How old is this pizza anyway?

Ivo: I get a number on a web page that I have to type into this device the bank sent me.

Emile: We ordered it last night.

Alberto: Got any left?

Drusus (picking up  pizza box): Yeah, sure. You like mold with your pepperoni?

Luz: You ordered that last night?

Ivo: Emile?

Alberto: That’s disgusting.

Drusus: Here, Alberto. You said you wanted some.

Emile (to Ivo): What?

Ivo: Are you listening to me?

Alberto: Don’t you come near me with that box, Drusus.

Paz (softly, to Drusus): C’mon, baby. Relax.

Luz (takes garbage bag from Ivo; to Drusus): Put that in here.

(Drusus drops pizza box in garbage bag which Luz holds open.)

Emile (to Ivo): Okay, what?

Ivo: What d‎o you mean, what? I was asking you a question.

(Exit Luz.)

(Emile and Ivo sit down next to each other on one of the couches. Paz talks quietly to Drusus.)

Alberto: Hope the whiz kid gets here soon.

Emile: About transferring money. Yeah, I know.

Ivo: Well?

Emile: Ivo, that’s why we have the whiz kid. He’s going to take care of all that.

Alberto: We can’t keep him over at our place anymore.

Ivo: He’s gonna transfer the money, I know. My question was –

(Exit Paz.)

Alberto: Can’t keep him here, either. If any of us gets busted by surprise –

Emile: Yeah, he’s the key to this whole deal. Right now, at least.

Drusus: Think we can trust him?

(Short silence)

Alberto: We have to trust him.

Drusus: We don’t have to do anything.

Alberto: Okay, resident genius, how do you propose to move the money without him?

Ivo: Hey, hey, hey! Let’s not fight amongst ourselves.

Emile: Yeah, right now we gotta find the whiz kid and get him set up somewhere where he can work.

Alberto: And once he’s done, we can split.

Ivo: Any idea how long it will take?

Emile: Nope. Couple of days. I think.

Alberto: Days?

Emile: Yeah, I mean, it’s not easy. He has to break into a bunch of networks, each with its own security. He has to do it undetected. He has to plant the programs. It takes time!

Alberto: Shit. Well, I hope he gets here fast.

Drusus: So we need to set him up with an internet connection. Can he do it at an internet café?

(Enter Luz.)

Luz: Ain’t nobody’s touched this vacuum machine.

Alberto (to Luz): Baby doll. Luz -

Luz: I ain’t your baby doll any more, remember?

Alberto (getting close): Sometimes you are.

(Exit Alberto and Luz.)

Drusus: Sometimes I can’t stand that kid.

Emile: He’s already written the programs. And tested them, too. So that’s a good thing.

Ivo (to Drusus): Sure you’re not jealous?

Drusus: What d’you mean, jealous?

Ivo: Nothing.

Drusus: No, really. What do you –

Emile: No, he can’t do it at an internet café. Guys? Hey, guys? Internet café won’t do.

(Exit Drusus.)

Emile: Jeez.

Ivo: What?

Emile: Drusus is in a foul mood.

Ivo: Shouldn’t be.

Emile: What do you mean?

Ivo: Him and Paz kept me up all last night!

Emile: You mean they –

Ivo: Dude, nothing escapes you, does it?

(Short silence)

Emile: All night, you said?

Ivo: Well, after a while I put the music on. After that I was able to fall –

(Enter Florencia, Paz talking quietly amongst themselves. They retire separately behind the couches where they continue to talk, ignoring Emile and Ivo. While they talk, Paz takes a cigarette and offers one to Florencia, who takes it.)

Ivo: See?

Emile: See what?

Ivo: They got a lot to talk about.

Emile: Why?

Ivo: Last night they both – Dude, are you just pretending or you really don’t know?

(Enter Clemens. Staying near the doorway, he ignores Emile and Ivo and glances over at Florencia and Paz.)

Emile (gesturing at Clemens; softly): Hey, Clem!

Clemens: Yo.

Emile: C’mere.

Paz (bursting out loud laughing): He didn’t!

Clemens: What?

Emile: You hook up with Florencia last night?

(Florencia and Paz both turn and glance at Clemens.)

Clemens: What?

Emile: Did you hook up with Florencia last night?

Clemens: Yeah, sure.

(Enter Alberto)

Alberto: That was a good idea, Clemens. Even Luz says so.

Clemens: Thanks.

Ivo: What? What was a good idea?

Clemens (to Alberto): Anyway, seems only natural. They got a high speed internet connection down there.

Ivo (to Alberto): You better watch out for Clemens’ great ideas.

Clemens: You got a better one, fuckface?

Paz: Hey, Clem!

Clemens: Yo!

Paz: Come over here a sec.

(Clemens joins Paz and Florencia. They talk quietly. Alberto sits on the other couch.)

Ivo: What are you doing out here, Alberto? Shouldn’t you be working your fabled magic on Luz?

Alberto: I’m already in there, Ivo. Anyway, I’m trying to get a breather from Drusus. He’s acting like a real prick today.

Emile: You guys don’t get along since you moved out.

Alberto: Yeah, well, I think it has something to do with I slept with Alice.

Ivo: And Tina.

Emile: Don’t forget Karina.

Alberto: Yeah, well, he didn’t like it.

Ivo: I wouldn’t like it either.

Alberto: It’s not my fault! Chicks just dig me.

Ivo: Okay, Alberto, chicks dig you. But there are times you just gotta say no.

Emile: Like when your roommate brings one home.

Ivo: With intent.

(Alberto shrugs)

(Paz and Florencia burst out laughing.)