CATS, theatre play, CHARACTERS acca Dramatis personae, Scene 1


CHARACTERS acca Dramatis personae

Living Beings:

ŽELJKO: The Butcher. He is about 40-year-old

JANA: high school girl.  Željko’s daughter, 17-year-old

SRĐAN: a driver, contractor, delayed student, his mental age is still that of a 17-year-old, but he is now 30-years-old

DRAGUTIN:  Jana’s history teacher, about 50-year-old

IKONIJA: A computer expert and a clever astrologer. She keeps her ages a secret.

Sphere Spiriticus Beings:

SAINT PETER: a head of the Eden Administration, Combatant versus Evil Forces. Under his leadership, Eden has boomed economically.

EMANUEL: a hell of the ferryman of Hades who carries souls of the newly deceased across the rivers Styx. a latent kleptomaniac

THE HOLY PARAMORE: A saint, Protector of expectant mothers as well as a feminist

LILITH, a fallen angelina

ALMIGHTY, also known as El, Creator of Heaven, Earth and Hell, blessed be he

LUCIFER, the infamous ruler of Hell.

 

CATS – Ghosts or ancestral spirits (Disguised actors)

SAINT JOAN OF ARC,  also known as The Runaway Of Paradise

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, famous French military leader of blessed memory. A firestarter. He sets fire to the Hell, regularly, as a memorial to The Battle of Borodino

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: famous English poet, playwright and actor, of blessed memory, in mourning for his son, Hamet, who passed away too soon.

MARY TUDOR usually appears to drunkards as Bloody Mary

VOICES:

Voice Of Almighty

Voice of Lucifer acca Bad Man With a Forktail

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SCENE 1

RIVER STYX

(The stage is illuminated by the spooky light. An apparition like the Commendatore of Mozart’s Don Giovanni is placing coins in the mouth of a dead,  simultaneously taking cash from spectres, surrounded by phantasms and grotesques)  

Grotesque: Am I at the centre of the underworld?

the Commendatore: You don’t have to look no further. This here is a swamp, which sometimes is also called the River Styx.

Grotesque: I was told to take a boat that crosses the Styx rivers.  Ask the psychopomp to guide you across the rivers Styx, Acheron…

the Commendatore: (interrupting Grotesque mid-sentence) You have to pay me to take you! Or you could get stuck on the shore.

Grotesque: Fair enough. Take your coin.

the Commendatore: Your money’ s no good here.  We don’t take nor obols, nor checks. Euros only.

Grotesque: You took my intention the wrong way.  I want you to take me back to the place I was before. Could you tell me how much this would cost?

the Commendatore: Too much to receive a payment in a currency you don’t hold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Cats, theatre play, scene 5


Cats, theatre play, scene 5, Leila Samarrai, translated into English, Mazikeen Leila Smith

Read it fully, deeply, and completely on the link below.

http://eckermann.org.rs/article/macke/

SCENE 5

(The Holy Paramore and Saint Peter are sitting together, cheek to cheek, staring at each other lovingly, outside the gates of Heaven.)

THE GATES OF HEAVEN

SAINT PETER: Sweetie, I would tear down the sky for you if you ask me!

THE HOLY PARAMORE: That’s not possible, my angel. We are already in the heavens.

SAINT PETER (he is kissing her forehead) You are choosing words wisely, my ethereal love.

THE HOLY PARAMORE: Well, then, my honey, my sweetie pie, my darl… always honourable, acquitted from all sins and free of defilement (sigh) I’d give you all my bury bones.

SAINT PETER: And I’d give you all my hagiographys! But don’t my lamb chop, don’t bother… my heart leaps to see you again, almost stopped with happiness! My tongue got tangled, like tree branches, that’ s all so wonderfully romantic! – weaving a knotted web. Keep your relics for yourself. You’ll need them when you least expect it. Say, as far as your parents, were they enjoying considerable wealth? When they were alive?

THE HOLY PARAMORE: Maybe they would’ve been, but they died out millions of years ago, beloved.

SAINT PETER: (shaking his head) Such a write off. I don’t need anything besides you, thou that art highly favoured. Along with other virtues which are not worthy of you or of that expensive dress you are wearing.

THE HOLY PARAMORE: It warms my heart knowing you are having second thoughts when it comes to receiving gifts, my inamorato, for it suggests the sentiments which are disgusting to both of us. Bad, black acts governing both heaven and hell. And all violations and transgressions, can’t even approach two greatest sins, my flame.

SAINT PETER: And what since might those be, my true love?

THE HOLY PARAMORE: These two: a materialism and an adultery.

SAINT PETER: Blessed be.

THE HOLY PARAMORE: You’ve been spending too much time with Satan’s ferryman, my one and only. He is a bad influence on you, my Pippin. Should I be concerned?

SAINT PETER: But, my crackajack, my peach, my sugar, you always told me: Peter, you’re gentle like Lorca’s rosebud. But only sweet imp, a devilish masculine type is fit to be my real husband. I am having trouble enjoying the company of that mad, bad sinner, my holy par – amore, my significant other. But, that’ s the only way that I can learn high/level pranks and stuff. I’ m doing all of this for you, paramour. Whatever I do… maintaining my vow of chastity, I ask him, now and then, to teach me how to dodge, to cheat, to turn tricks, to…

THE HOLY PARAMORE: Trick, what trick? Any unusual sin? Sure! This must be.. ah! Tell me! (her eyes shine)

SAINT PETER: Blessed the cheek…! Recently… (scratches behind his ear) He, Emanuel, our hellish ferryman, disguised as John The Baptist, he swung a censer as he danced a Limbo dance, calling for souls in Limbo, making them swim in groups.. in Styx, yelling: Bathe and prepare to meet the Chief, citing verses 42-43… a moment Paradise filled up with sinners, choking angels with devilish smoke, while he was still singing: “The bath is full” while I.. oh my dearie, my knockout, my holy par amour.. I’ve had my hands pretty busy putting them all back in and to straighten out Emanuel’s mess. Suddenly, a stubborn Limbecile, since he was obliged to come home to the antechamber of hell, took his own life. He liked Paradise so much that he actually thought he was innocent. Of course, this was just a hell – loop…

THE HOLY PARAMORE: (squeezing her ethereal little legs just a little harder, her cheeks reddened)
O, sacrilège!
O, blasphème!
Isn’ t that what happened? Terrible thing.

SAINT PETER: There’ s more! Emanuel ordered Pizza capricciosa for the Gluttonous of the Third Circle of Hell… a special-order kind of thing: one for Cerberus – The chilli peppers give it a real kick.

THE HOLY PARAMORE:
Quite the scandal. Say no more! Not a second thought! Strike it from your mind, my darl, such a leechcraft, no more! Keep your high-quality pectoral cross washed clean of all the black marks, for he shall forever glow as a sign of perpetual light!
As for your Eden Key, Peter, bring it to my ethereal bed, Romeo!

SAINT PETER: (Peter, his lovely eyes intent on his Key, breathlessly..)
The apple of my eye! I got a report on the Sanitation department of Eden… It is written: The key won’t get rusty, Peter if you keep him someplace dry.

THE HOLY PARAMORE: Not before he serves his purpose. Oh, Peter! Hug me, hug me, hold me, Peter! Almighty, wrap him up in dark bedsheets. Let there be dark! Let him go forth, out of the dark, come out, a beautiful gloomy face of my true love! A, he’s asleep!… (she’s up, stepped into the Garden, butt- nagged for gods sakes)

THE HOLY PARAMORE: Oh, you, a madcap little devil of mine! Cheater! Hustler! Handsome sleaze – bag! O, I loved the way how you banged me in the clouds and there I lay pretended I were dead!

EMANUEL: (peeking over Tree of the knowledge of good and evil)
Does he not suspect something?

THE HOLY PARAMORE: He is no more boring than book reports. Let’s get together at midnight, honeypie, someone might see us.

EMANUEL: You wanna go for a ride in our gondola, my bimbo!
.
THE HOLY PARAMORE:… Surfing dark waters, us being together.. my beefcake!

EMANUEL: There’ s a shortcut near purgatory river, bitch!

THE HOLY PARAMORE: I’m getting juiced up over the nude beaches, stud!

EMANUEL: Come to my arms, you, she-devil!
(They are kissing)

The Artists


‘I’ve carefully gone through your text of Wagner, madam. Quite passionate, a tour de force. This is precisely why I don’t call myself a Wagnerian, you will permit me (I hope) to provide some of my critical input.’

Mary Lynne allowed herself a minute smile and crossed her legs at the table.

The man tried his hardest not to look at her lovely, thin legs.

‘You start the text off strong, with a title that cuts to the chase, that doesn’t wander. The readers think that you will…that you’ll…’ His frowning face softened. ‘As early as the first, then the second paragraph to expand upon, to provide arguments to the qualification you laid…laid out, oh dear, I’m losing myself…in the title, yeah, that’s the word, IN THE TITLE! He gathered his wits for a second and started banging his head on the table – and yet nothing.’

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Vincent D’Onofrio (Cholo) with Mathilda May (Stephanie) in the movie Naked Tango the end of the film.

https://www.etsy.com/il-en/listing/276627324/black-and-white-nude-acrylic-painting

‘You say that he bullied his colleagues, and also that you cannot cite a single example, because there is nothing written, or disclosed. Funny, one would wonder: where did the daring claim come from that the man was a witnessed sadist when there are neither examples nor evidence of this? ’

The man extended his hands towards her. ‘Oh, Maryyyy…I will strangle youuuuu! With a wire string, dude!’

The man panicked. He grabbed her throat. He screamed. ‘I’m panicking! I’m panicking! I have to jump!’

And he jumped at her mumbling how truly unhappy he is.

‘Look at her, how easily she gives herself to me! You are no longer so prideful! Get yourself up you low-browed dunce! Oh if only a wind could blow right now to lift your skirt up, and here I am having to put up the effort, they’ll even call this rape!’

‘And it would’ve been romantic’ Mary Lynne said coquettishly.

‘Right, like in Tannhäuser. Sing to me, sing to me, be my…Wilhelmina Schroeder!’

‘Is that like Venus?’

He lifted her leg in lieu of responding as if he were ploughing a field. He flung it over his left shoulder.

Venus sang.

‘Do forgive me never more will IIIIIIIII

Come to me if fortune’s what you seeeeeeeek’

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Sophie Koch as Venus in Tannhäuser

‘My fortune…’ He uttered between heavy panting and then flung her left leg over his right shoulder (where the other one went, he wasn’t sure). ‘My fortune lies in Mary!’

And he added:

‘I also think that the text would have had more impact if Hitler hadn’t been mentioned. What, there’s no bloody way that Stalin, who was none the lesser a monster and a murderer than Hitler, didn’t love Glinka or Borodin, or more likely Mussorgsky. That does not mean that these composers were vile men. There is a sizable possibility that Idi Amin loved Tartini or Paganini, why not. There are counterexamples as well. Beethoven loved Napoleon for years, he even devoted ‘Eroica’  to him, after which he got disappointed, gave up on Bonaparte.’

‘There.’ Mary said, after an explosive finish a la Eroica. ‘Now, will we do some Wilhelm Friedman for me, sweet lover?’

‘Start!’ With Mary’s dress at an arm’s reach, he quickly put on a dress and made-up and groomed in a manga style he lifted his hairy legs up high, swearing that the Cliven depilatory cream was not handy.

‘You know how much I care for hygiene!’ He wept.

‘Cold waxing is the best with the Tiger tire glue.’ She smiled. ‘Now have a listen…’

‘Oof…’

Between Expressions by Hamish Blakely

‘Wilhelm Friedman was spat upon to the point of pain. A boozehound died poor…(SIGHING) They then admit that he was the greatest instrumentalist of his age. The dude hit the clavier, not a single person could challenge him. A biography that on the surface looks like the buckish bios of notable rock musicians. Oy vey, there was a movie as well, I think the title of it is, in fact, Wilhelm Friedman, where he, apparently, suffers and struggles (SHE SIGHS LOUDER AND MORE PASSIONATELY) as a gifted son of a well-known father. The catch is that his father was nowhere near as noteworthy when Friedman was playing, and his problem was neither living in his father’s nor in his brother’s shadow (Mozart said about Carl Philip Emanuel: ‘He is the father, we are all his children’ (OH GOD!!!!), which reckless historians transposed as Mozart talking about Bach, and he didn’t.) (BOTH SIGH AND MOAN), but with all those flies, fleas and planktons that make up life and make up us humans, like a living organism, dead center in that life itself. Leopold Mozart, Wolfgang’s pops, picturesquely and colloquially described the habitus of Friedman Bach. ‘A remarkable musician, an unrivalled composer, but a heavy, heavy drinker.’’

He was panting. ‘I love Händel a lot. I have some undocumented version of his Water Music, therefore I do not know either who performed it or when, and the version is, just, it’s the balls, it tears ass… I listened to various different versions, but most of them are shit, can’t even come close to what I have. Händel and Telemann, by the way, I view as bigger composers than Bach. ’

Lars von Trier’s Antichrist was playing in the background during all of this. An erect phallus added to the magic and romance of the two. Candles were too much with all of these other stimuli. At the peak of arousal, they were slapping each other, arguing which composer is better.

antichrist

‘Boozehound, spendthrift, died poor, boozehound, spe…e…eh, dear husband, I think that will do for the evening.’

And while he was putting on man’s clothing, Mary Lynne sang Messiaen: Turangalîla-Symphony (Joie du sang des étoiles) in front of the mirror, the director of the Artist’s Trilogy Ron Gabe Bonester went upsy-daisy and with a ‘Camera, cut!’ he marked the end of the shoot.

‘I gave you too much freedom! None of that was in the script!’ He paused for thought. ‘Now you, kid, get Mary a gun to blow your brains out!’

The actress went upstart. ‘That wasn’t the deal!’

Bonester shouted in response to this. ‘Nobody questions my authority! For two hours behind that there…glass compartment…the Australian minister of culture is sitting and waiting for the script which will present his arduous devotions at the Art Conference focusing on non-profit management. Our country cannot develop economically without innovation in that particular field. And education! Who do you think you are? Who bought me this Canon EOS 6D to shoot you guys? Get serious, woman, and continue the oral, along with Chopin and your husband.’

‘But…we are ARTISTS!’

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‘An overrated term. I do not exchange my ideas with the personnel. We directors laud a vibrant and growing creative economy!’

Then both He and She approached him and pounded him into the ground, while Bonester slid on the floor in his oversized suit.

‘Shall we continue where we left off?’

‘You mean…while the Minister Behind the Compartment observes?’

‘And then a gun to the head, like Romeo and Juliet. Or was it poison? But let’s not split hairs.’

‘That would probably be a mistake, but…as I said… we are artists, dear colleague, and a happy couple in Art. We cannot live on without the drama.’

‘And voyeurs,’ someone whispered, sat in a chair where the now unconscious director lay and followed this up with a thunderous applause.

Then the trio continued the show agreeing that the Husband should be given any old name.

Mary’s gaze flew up and she said: ‘He will be named Frederic. Like our unborn son.’

Nobody objected, therefore Frederic could begin.

The Minister, who physically reminded one of the head electricians, would record something with an expensive video camera. But under the condition that he played Chopin.

‘Bah bah, the Best Boy.’ Both send passionate kisses to him. Then, with an erotic play, they embraced.

‘Artists, such artists,’ mumbled the Mysterious Traveler, the Spectator, the Third Without Whom You Can’t Go On, from the artistic Kingdom of Heaven.

But Mary Lynne and Frederic were in their own world, wreathed in music and gifted with a gift worthy of the Gods.

The camera buzzed. Reflectors flashed.

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SCENE 25:

‘I’ve carefully gone through your text of Bach, madam. Quite passionate, a tour de force. This is precisely why I don’t call myself a Bachian, you will permit me (I hope) to provide some of my critical input.’

SCENE 26:

‘…as far as the Bach family is concerned, I love Wilhelm Friedman and Carl Philip Emanuel, they rule, each in their own way, but I dug up some other guys as well – for instance, Johann Bernhardt Bach is also excellent. In the classical era, Johann Christian Bach stood out. Imagine that wondrous family tree, this beast of a family, which branched out during a good hundred-and-so-year period, and bore nothing but interesting musical fruit. Crazy.’ (SCREAM)

CUT.

Nema lajkova, nema komentara!


Since I am speaking in Serbian, I will try to explain my intention to non – Serbian speakers – my intention was not to show you my gorgeous lioness hair.. but to make fun of, precisely FB comments and likes –  in fact of everything that seems to be real, but it’s like totally fake.

Subtitles will follow, God’s will 🙂

“Cats”/”Mačke”


This is one of the many versions (The Introduction) of my drama play “Cats”. There is a final version, of course, it is printed, but due to some kind of miracle, it is not in the computer, so I should type it again. Drama is intended for reading, and this version is slightly longer, so this task is constantly postponed. Anyway, I was looking for something in mails, then I came across this version which is not as good as the one after.. but still made me laugh.
I’m sorry I can not give you present texts in English (for now), my translators (Scylla and Charybdis have some unfinished business with satan in Styx at noon (reviving the dead and translating them something like… corpse never dies and other Meow – Poetry Of Hell in Hebrew and Hungarian – Finnish) They shall be back in couple of centuries, till then, wait and see – I’ll manage somehow. Try to use google translate!

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image found here

MAČKE

Leila Samarrai

Scena 1

NEBESA

(Sv Petar prekrštenih nogu sedi u Edenu, ispred Rajskih vrata na stolici od hrastovog drveta sa gusto isprepletanim gravurama krstova. Revlon remom lašti go go čizme. Našminkan je kao Azijatkinja, dok u haljini Đovani sluša poznatu ariju opera Madam Baterflaj. (na video bimu prikazana scena iz opera Madam Baterflaj) Nosi rej ban naočare I pije kafu iz kutije na kojoj piše Energetska Kafa dok prelistava katalog ženskih perika iz Hongkonga. ..) Na okruglu stolicu na kojoj sve Petar najčešće sedi dok se ogleda u stilizovanom ogledalu od višnjinog drveta rajske modne kuće “Taština” sleće Emanuilo, pakleni lađar, koji izgledom podseća na Grejs Džons.)

EMANUIL:

O, Petre sveti, slomilo mi se veslo dok plovih Stiksom vrelim. Ukoliko mi ne pomogneš, Raj mi ne gine!

SV PETAR:
Rekao sam ti da za paklene vožnje koristiš rajska. Ona su čvršća. Sačinjena od čistog vatikanskog zlata.

(kuca na računaru)

Jedno rajsko veslo za lađara pakla.

EMANUIL:
Petre, do sad sam sumnjao, ali sad znam da si mi pravi prijatelj. Izvukoh se. Za dlaku!

(SV PETAR I EMANUIL se zagrliše)

SV PETAR: (dok ga grli)
Biće mi potrebna protivusluga.

EMANUIL:
Uvek…  i.. skloni ruke sa moje zadnjice.

SV PETAR:
Ovo ti je treće u nedelju dana? Problemi u paklu? Podsvesna želja da postaneš rajska pastirica?

EMANUIL:
Tako mi I treba kad prevozim Ruse. (sa divljenjem zagleda u novo, zlatno veslo koje mu je doneo heruvim) I to nikog drugog do Ivana Prvog Kalitu, autokratu ciciju u istom čamcu sa Judom.

(SV PETAR se prekrsti)

EMANUIL:

Želi da se vrati na Zemlju kako bi dao trideset srebrnjaka u dobrotvorne svrhe.

SV PETAR:
Zadivljujuće.

EMANUIL:
Tek što dođosmo do sredine mračne vode, zatražih obojici kaparu, ali Rus nije hteo da mi plati, već mi ot’e veslo iz ruke, slomi ga I gurnu me u Stiks. Tada začuh potmulo režanje praćeno žuborom vode, žuboritije od kipećeg Stiksa..

SV PETAR:
Iju! Pa šta se to ču?

EMANUIL:
To je Sotona pevao pod tušem. Pomislih šta bi se desilo da sazna, uplaših se I vratih Judi srebrnjake.

PETAR: (uzdiše)O, Emanuilo, pa zar svih trideset?

EMANUIL: (izdiše)
Svakodnevno sam na iskušenju da pokojnicima koje prevozim otimam novac, ali bojim se da me Ničnižnji ne vrati među žive, ako sazna da mu diram u kasicu prasicu.

SV PETAR:
Emanuilo, to I nije tako loše! Kad si živ, onda možeš da podigneš keš kredit u Poštanskoj štedionici Srbije!

EMANUIL:

Kažu da tamo prednost imaju preminuli.. Uostalom, miliji su mi večni krediti na odloženo plaćanje.

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