The Bee & the Butterfly: Scene 6 & EndingA Story by Paris HladScene 6: Paradise,
Evening, Near the Pedestal & Book of Life " Enter Abel, Stage Right; Enter Simon, Stage Left;
Both Are Dressed In Glittery Costumes; Simon Is Wearing an Over-Sized
Golden Miter.
ABEL:
(Acknowledging Simon)
I’m thinking maybe the reader didn’t get what just
happened.
SIMON: (Acknowledging Abel)
Or maybe he got what happened, But doesn’t know why it did.
ABEL:
Not everyone’s good with stuff like this.
(The players converge & embrace)
SIMON:
Truth is, even the guy who wrote this book Is no Einstein about the things he reads. In fact, when he was a kid, he tested out Like he was a simpleton or something.
They even made him take a special class one summer, And he still didn’t always get the gist of things in a
story " Even when he was the guy that wrote it!
Surprised? Well, sometimes the Gardener Gets involved in the creative process "
ABEL: (Paging through the Book of Life)
And there’s never been anyone who understands Her.
SIMON: (Gazing Approvingly at the Audience)
So, don’t get offended if we explain some things, Even though you didn’t ask or anything.
But if you figure you’ve already got a handle on this, You can skip ahead. We won’t take it personally. We’re just doing what we were asked to do.
But I’m thinking that you should hear us out Because we recently learned that we’re immortal, And that should carry weight in a narrative like this.
Anyway, you might wonder why the poet Didn’t have Myrina arrive in time to
save Andre. I mean, the poet passed up a golden
opportunity To close his play with a grand wedding
and maybe Some lines about the couple living out
their love Against a backdrop of beautiful floral
images.
The trouble is Paris wanted a happy
ending, And there really aren’t a lot of
believable endings Like that in an eat-or-be-eaten place
like the Garden.
ABEL: (Admiring Simon’s Gold Hat)
Just too many flukes and fabricants de
vers, Not to mention a ton of other problems
Where love is concerned.
SIMON: (Nodding)
It’s all connected to what Andre said About love being “our great faith” or
whatnot, Especially when you consider how
similar love and faith are. I mean, in life you get a little proof
of love and a little proof of faith, But not enough proof to make either of
them satisfying to anyone.
Sadly, you get just enough proof to
confuse you, Maybe even make you feel stupid in
some ways. I mean, it’s difficult as hell to love
and believe When you’re in a place where those
things Are pretty much reserved for fairy
tales And randomly thoughtful cartoons. In fact, I would have to say that The conditions of the Garden Work against those things.
Still, like the Gardener said, when
those things do happen, They “glorify” even her garden,
which is astounding "
ABEL:
Given that her garden is paradise And probably doesn’t need a lot Of additional glorifications.
SIMON:
Love is meant to endure the ravages of
Earth, But it cannot prosper in it because
love is spirit.
It might help you understand things better If I tell you another story from my days as a performer. When we put on an important show, there was nothing Better or more beautiful to us in the world: The
planning, The crazy costumes we’d wear, all the scenery making, Rehearsals, and great interaction among the players, Had only one gorgeous purpose in mind:
To please the audience.
Sure, to them, it was only a show, Performed by a bunch of misfit fireflies, But to us, it was everything that mattered.
I mean, even if we didn’t know it at
the time, The audience that
we were trying to please Was one already
seated inside our heads.
And it was
through the honest approval of that audience That our show had
meaning " And our show had meaning
Because we were
loved.
In fact, Abel
used to say that the best time to call it quits Would be after a
show that really wowed an audience. At the time, I
didn’t get that. Now I do.
When the show is
over, all the cheesy Garden stuff Comes back into
your mind, like you never did the show at all.
But in those
sublime, preceding moments of reciprocal applause, You know that
wonderfully elevated sense of being in a place
Where audience
and player are the same beautiful thing.
ABEL:
Some
call that being one with the universe!
SIMON:
All I
know is, delivering a great performance Gave
me the best feeling I ever had.
That’s
what a showman does -.
He
puts on the show of his life; the audience loves him, And
the curtains close with the Gardener clapping her brains out!
(The Scene Fades as the Players Rise And Glow Above the Ruins)
Scene 7: Near the Lake, a Sunny Day The Daffodils Are Ensconced in
Lounge Chairs, Wearing Swimsuits, Sunglasses,
& Large Summer Hats. Petal’s Diary & Soft Drink
Sit on a Cooler Between Them.
PETAL:
We’ve been so stoked lately That we really don’t know What to do with ourselves.
CHLOE:
Love stories like this can be profoundly moving, And you just want to share them with others.
PETAL:
So, maybe you’d like to know what the upshot Has been for the characters involved In this fascinating melodrama. We have forever to tell you Because a daffodil’s life
Is less complicated after April.
CHLOE:
We’re still here on Ruins Hill, kind of, But all the fantastic demonstrations of yellow Are over until next spring. (Turning to Petal)
PETAL:
Almost all of us write diaries and try to keep up On the stuff that’s happening in the off-season.
But mostly we just goof around, Thinking about the miracle of cloning And planning for the next pageant.
CHLOE:
It’s partly downtime and partly the rush Of imagining things getting even better.
PETAL (Tapping on the Diary)
You want to know what happened to those lowlifes Who kidnapped Myrina when she was a baby? They didn’t just get put in jail you know.
They got sent to hell
Because they wouldn’t say, “Sorry,” And the Gardener finally got fed up With their totally bullshit nihilism.
CHLOE:
Some creatures say the Gardener Should be nice to everyone all the time.
PETAL:
But a good Gardener needs to be A lot more than hugs and kisses.
Anyway, those thugs are doing hard-time Before they get a second chance at nothingness. In fact, I found
out through this mole friend of mine That they’re working graveyard-shift for Beelzebub As personal (and I guess willing) restroom
attendants.
CHOLE: (Giggling)
You’ve got to believe that job really stinks!
PETAL:
But one of those guys, Bobby “Bingo” Casanova, Said he was “definitely getting something positive” Out of his time in hell, hobnobbing with the “big Guy” Because he’s working with “super-righteous dudes” Who seem to totally understand a bug like him.
CHLOE: (Looks Out Toward the Lake)
Bobby sounds like …
Well, maybe he’s just tripping.
PETAL:
At least on an existential level!
Anyway, the friend who told me this stuff Is an internationally known whistleblower, Part-time rabbi, and agent-provocateur, And he’s going to demand the release Of these special legal documents Involving Bobby’s situation.
So, there’s a pretty good chance We’ll be getting more information About Bobby-Bingo before too long.
Maybe you’re as interested -n seeing those papers as I
am, Because centipedes that happen to be kidnappers that get
sent to hell Is a pretty unusual occurrence, even in Paris Hlad’s crazy
universe.
Do you remember Simon’s brother, Abel?
(Chloe Nods, As She Steals a Sip of Petal’s Soft Drink)
He retired from show business a while ago And makes a living selling springtime memorabilia "
He even teaches other insects how to do those cool tricks
He used to do with Simon when they were child acrobats.
He says he couldn’t be happier just telling his stories About all the great performances they gave.
CHOLE:
Maybe he used to, but I’m pretty sure He’s dead now and into other things.
PETAL: (She Gazes Quizzically at Chloe.)
Simon got some interesting news this summer! Apparently, he was canonized by the poet As St. Simon of the Ruins Hill Parish.
The Gardener placed a small statue of him Near the entrance to the Garden[1]
And told everybody that Simon Should be respected for his knowledge Of The Lightning in affairs of the heart.
Simon says, “It’s no big deal,” but he’s been wearing A gigantic gold hat lately and walks around all the time With his shiny hands piously folded in front of him.
CHOLE:
That makes everyone laugh like crazy.
PETAL:
Especially the Gardener. She calls him “The Glow Saint,” And that makes Simon laugh, too.
(Rising from Her Chair & Beginning to Put Up a
Canopy)
Andre and Myrina have been Making these awesome wreaths And placing them all over the Garden.
CHLOE: (Rising, She Helps Petal with the Canopy.)
Some are red; some are yellow and red, And some are white and yellow.
All of them smell unbelievably good, And the roses that they’re made of Are smiling and joking all the time.
PETAL:
Simon told us that every so often, The Gardener tosses one of those wreaths In the air like a spinning Frisbee, just to watch The roses fall where she figured they would.
Oddly, the roses seem really into this experience, Which is pretty amazing, when you think about it! But I guess it’s a major turn-on for the Gardener.
Sometimes these very jazzed confetti bees Join in and buzz around the roses
As if they were " Well, roses with wings, Forming their own wreaths, So, they can be scattered, too.
CHLOE:
When that happens, Everyone takes notice
And wants to see The confetti bees
Get even more jazzed about things.
We’d love to see that sometime,
Wouldn’t you?
-----
As the Curtains Close, The Daffodils Are Mesmerized By the Sight of a Mockingbird, Devouring an Earthworm
But Gaining Their Composure, They Smile Affably & the Play Ends. [1]
Before Simon’s elevation, only Rose Immaculate and Paris’s mother enjoyed
something like the status of a saint in the poet’s mind. Simon was active in
Paris’s inner-world for several months and is remembered for having been
prominent in the poet’s Garden adventures in Newburgh, as well as for a cameo
appearance in one of the poet’s most disturbing dreams.
© 2023 Paris Hlad |
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Added on May 11, 2023 Last Updated on May 11, 2023 AuthorParis HladSouthport, NC, United States Minor Outlying IslandsAboutI am a 70-year-old retired New York state high school English teacher, living in Southport, NC. more..Writing
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