Sexual Perversity in Chicago and the Duck Variations Read online

  GEORGE: On his deathbed what does the duck say if only he could speak?

  EMIL: He wants to live some more.

  GEORGE: Right. But remorse? Guilt? Other bad feelings? No. No. He is in tune with nature.

  EMIL: He is a part of nature. He is a duck.

  GEORGE: Yes, but so is man a part of nature.

  EMIL: Speak for yourself.

  GEORGE: I am speaking for myself.

  EMIL: Then speak to yourself.

  GEORGE: Who asked you to listen?

  EMIL: Who asked you to talk?

  GEORGE: Why are you getting upset?

  EMIL: You upset me.

  GEORGE: Yeah?

  EMIL: With your talk of nature and the duck and death. Morbid useless talk. You know, it is a good thing to be perceptive, but you shouldn't let it get in the way.

  GEORGE: And that is the point I was trying to make.

  SEVENTH VARIATION

  “Yes, In Many Ways”

  GEORGE: Yes, in many ways Nature is our window to the world.

  EMIL: Nature is the world.

  GEORGE: Which shows you how easy it is to take a good idea and glop it up.

  EMIL: So who do you complain to.

  GEORGE: Well, you complain to me.

  EMIL: Do you mind?

  GEORGE: I'm glad I got the time to listen.

  EMIL: A man needs a friend in this life.

  GEORGE: In this or any other life.

  EMIL: You said it. Without a friend, life is not . . .

  GEORGE: Worth living?

  EMIL: No it's still worth living. I mean, what is worth living if not life? No. But life without a friend is . . .

  GEORGE: It's lonely.

  EMIL: It sure is. You said it. It's good to have a friend.

  GEORGE: It's good to be a friend.

  EMIL: It's good to have a friend to talk to.

  GEORGE: It's good to talk to a friend.

  EMIL: To complain to a friend . . .

  GEORGE: It's good to listen . . .

  EMIL: Is good.

  GEORGE: To a friend.

  EMIL: To make life a little less full of pain . . .

  GEORGE: I'd try anything.

  EMIL: Is good.

  GEORGE: For you, or for a friend. Because it's good to help.

  EMIL: To help a friend in need is the most that any man can want to do.

  GEORGE: And you couldn't ask for more than that.

  EMIL: I wouldn't.

  GEORGE: Good.

  EMIL: Being a loner in this world . . .

  GEORGE: Is not my bag of tea.

  EMIL: Is no good. No man is an Island to himself.

  GEORGE: Or to anyone else.

  EMIL: You can't live alone forever. You can't live forever anyway. But you can't live alone. Nothing that lives can live alone. Flowers. You never find just one flower. Trees. Ducks.

  GEORGE: Cactus.

  EMIL: Lives alone?

  GEORGE: Well, you take the cactus in the waste. It stands alone as far as the eye can tell.

  EMIL: But there are other cacti.

  GEORGE: Not in that immediate area, no.

  EMIL: What are you trying to say?

  GEORGE: That the cactus, unlike everything else that cannot live alone, thrives . . .

  EMIL: I don't want to hear it.

  GEORGE: But it's true, the cactus.

  EMIL: I don't want to hear it. If it's false, don't waste my time and if it is true I don't want to know.

  GEORGE: It's a proven fact.

  EMIL: I can't hear you.

  GEORGE: Even the duck sometimes.

  EMIL (looks): . . . Nothing that lives can live alone.

  EIGHTH VARIATION

  “Ahh, I Don't Know”

  EMIL: Ahh, I don't know.

  GEORGE: So what?

  EMIL: You gotta point. . . . Sometimes I think the Park is more trouble than it's worth.

  GEORGE: How so?

  EMIL: To come and look at the Lake and the Trees and Animals and Sun just once in a while and traipse back. Back to . . .

  GEORGE: Your apartment.

  EMIL: Joyless. Cold concrete. Apartment. Stuff. Linoleum. Imitation.

  GEORGE: The park is more real?

  EMIL: The Park? Yes.

  GEORGE: Sitting on benches.

  EMIL: Yes.

  GEORGE: Visiting tame animals?

  EMIL: Taken from wildest captivity.

  GEORGE: Watching a lake that's a sewer?

  EMIL: At least it's water.

  GEORGE: You wanna drink it?

  EMIL: I drink it every day.

  GEORGE: Yeah. After it's been pured and filtered.

  EMIL: A lake just the same. My Inland Sea.

  GEORGE: Fulla Inland Shit.

  EMIL: It's better than nothing.

  GEORGE: Nothing is better than nothing.

  EMIL: Well, it's a close second.

  GEORGE: But why does it hurt you to come to the park?

  EMIL: I sit Home, I can come to the park. At the park the only place I have to go is home.

  GEORGE: Better not to have a park?

  EMIL: I don't know.

  GEORGE: Better not to have a Zoo? We should forget what a turtle is?

  EMIL: Aaaaah.

  GEORGE: Our Children should never know the joy of watching some animal . . . behaving?

  EMIL: I don't know.

  GEORGE: They should stay home and know only guppies eating their young.

  EMIL: Let ‘em go to the Country. Nature's playground.

  The Country.

  The Land that Time Forgot.

  Mallards in Formation.

  Individual barnyard noises.

  Horses.

  Rusty Gates.

  An ancient tractor.

  Hay, barley.

  Mushrooms.

  Rye.

  Stuffed full of abundance.

  Enough to feed the nations of the World.

  GEORGE: We'll have ‘em over. We don't get enough riffraff.

  EMIL: Enough to gorge the countless cows of South America.

  GEORGE: Did you make that up?

  EMIL: Yes.

  GEORGE: I take my hat off to you.

  EMIL: Thank you.

  GEORGE: “Feed the many” . . . how does it go?

  EMIL: Um. Stuff the nameless . . . It'll come to me.

  GEORGE: When you get it, tell me.

  NINTH VARIATION

  “At The Zoo They Got Ducks”

  EMIL: At the Zoo they got ducks. They got. What do you call it? . . . A Mallard. They got a mallard and a . . . what is it? A cantaloupe.

  GEORGE: You mean an antelope.

  EMIL: No . . . no, it's not cantaloupe. But it's like cantaloupe. Uh . . .

  GEORGE: Antelope?

  EMIL: No! Antelope is like an elk. What I'm thinking is like a duck.

  GEORGE: Goose?

  EMIL: No. But it's . . . What sounds like cantaloupe, but it isn't.

  GEORGE: . . . Antelope. I'm sorry, but that's it.

  EMIL: No. Wait! Wait. Ca . . . cala . . . camma . . . grantal . . .

  GEORGE: Canadian ducks?

  EMIL: No! I've seen ‘em, the ones I mean. I've seen ‘em in the Zoo.

  GEORGE: Ducks?

  EMIL: Yes! Ducks that I'm talking about. By God, I know what I mean . . . They're called . . . The only thing that comes up is canta. Pantel. Pandel. Panda . . . Candarolpe . . .

  GEORGE: They ain't got no panda.

  EMIL: I know it . . . Panna . . .

  GEORGE: They had a panda at the other Zoo but it died.

  EMIL: Yeah. Nanna . . .

  GEORGE: There were two of ‘em. Or three. But they were all men and when they died . . . they couldn't have any babies, of course . . .

  EMIL: Randspan?

  GEORGE: . . . so the Pandas . . .

  EMIL: . . . lope . . .

  GEORGE: Died.

  EMIL: Lo ... lopa? Loola . . .

  GEORGE: Not Swans?

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p; EMIL: NO. Please. I know Swans. I'm talking about ducks.

  GEORGE: I know it.

  EMIL: Can . . .

  GEORGE: Those Pandas were something.

  EMIL: Yeah.

  GEORGE: Giant Pandas.

  EMIL: Yeah.

  GEORGE: Big things.

  EMIL: I've seen ‘em.

  GEORGE: Not lately you haven't.

  EMIL: No.

  GEORGE: Cause they been dead.

  EMIL: I know it.

  GEORGE: From the Orient. Pandas from the Far East. There for all to see.

  EMIL: Mantalope?

  GEORGE: Black and White.

  EMIL: Palapope . . .

  GEORGE: Together.

  EMIL: Maaaa . . .

  GEORGE: The Giant Panda.

  EMIL: Fanna . . .

  GEORGE: Over two stories tall.

  EMIL: Raaa?

  GEORGE: It got too expensive to feed it. They had to put ‘em to sleep.

  TENTH VARIATION

  “It's A Crying Shame”

  EMIL: It's a crying shame.

  GEORGE: Eh?

  EMIL: A crying piss-laden shame. A blot on our time. Gook on the scutcheon. Oil slicks from here to Africa.

  GEORGE: Huh?

  EMIL: They don't allow no smoking on ocean liners. One spark overboard and the whole ocean goes.

  GEORGE: Yeah?

  EMIL: Oil-bearing ducks floating up dead on the beaches. Beaches closing. No place to swim. The surface of the sea is solid dying wildlife. In Australia . . . they're finding fish, they're going blind from lack of sun. New scary species are developing. They eat nothing but dead birds.

  GEORGE: Yeah?

  EMIL: Catfish.

  GEORGE: . . . I think that's something different.

  EMIL: Nevermore. Thrushes. No more the duck. Blue-jays. Cardinals. Making the dead ocean their last home.

  GEORGE: When I was young . . .

  EMIL: Floating up dead on the beaches.

  GEORGE: Around my house . . .

  EMIL: Their lungs a sodden pulp of gasoline. They're made for something better than that.

  GEORGE: In the springtime we used to . . .

  EMIL: Can't even burn leaves in the fall. We have to wrap them in Plastic. Next we'll have to wrap each leaf individually. Little envelopes for each leaf, it shouldn't contaminate us with the vapors. Little numbered packets.

  GEORGE: Our lawn was.

  EMIL: What?

  GEORGE: Eh?

  EMIL: What was your lawn?

  GEORGE: I forget.

  EMIL: Can you imagine, being the last man alive to have seen a blue heron? Or a wild buffalo?

  GEORGE: No man can live in the path of a wild buffalo.

  EMIL: All right. A regular buffalo, then.

  GEORGE: They got ‘em at the zoo.

  EMIL: Buffaloes?

  GEORGE: Yeah, they got plenty of ‘em.

  EMIL: But that's in captivity.

  GEORGE: I should hope so.

  EMIL: Well, in any case, you see my point.

  GEORGE: Yes . . .

  EMIL: Well, that's the point I was trying to make.

  ELEVENTH VARIATION

  “You Know, I Remember”

  GEORGE: You know, I remember reading somewhere . . .

  EMIL: Please.

  GEORGE: All right.

  EMIL: I hurt your feelings.

  GEORGE: Yes.

  EMIL: I'm sorry.

  GEORGE: I know.

  EMIL: There is no excuse for that.

  GEORGE: It's all right.

  EMIL: What were you gonna say?

  GEORGE: About the balance of nature.

  EMIL: Yes?

  GEORGE: Being dependent on one of the Professional Spectator Sports.

  EMIL: You're fulla shit.

  GEORGE: For its continuation.

  EMIL: What made you think of that?

  GEORGE: I'm not sure.

  EMIL: Some sport?

  GEORGE: I don't know.

  EMIL: Nature?

  GEORGE: Perhaps.

  EMIL: Do you remember which sport?

  GEORGE: I . . . no, I wouldn't want to go on record as remembering. One of the Major League sports.

  EMIL: Where did you read it?

  GEORGE: I don't know. The Reader's Digest . . .

  EMIL: Eh?

  GEORGE: Also they've found a use for cancer.

  EMIL: Knock wood.

  GEORGE: It's about time. All the millions we spend on research, cigarettes . . .

  EMIL: Wildlife.

  GEORGE: Nothing wrong with spending money on Wildlife.

  EMIL: It's all take, take, take.

  GEORGE: Nature gives it back many times over.

  EMIL: Yeah?

  GEORGE: A blue heron at sunset.

  EMIL: They're all dead . . .

  GEORGE: A whiff of breeze from the lake . . .

  EMIL: . . . or hiding.

  GEORGE: A flight of Ducks.

  EMIL: The duck is, after all, only a bird.

  GEORGE: But what a bird.

  EMIL: A pigeon, too, is a bird.

  GEORGE: There's no comparison.

  EMIL: What is the difference between a duck and a pigeon?

  GEORGE: Basically, a lack of comparison.

  EMIL: Aside from that?

  GEORGE: It is a difference of . . . self-respect. You can't argue with that.

  EMIL: I won't begin.

  GEORGE: It wouldn't get you anywhere.

  EMIL: Ha. Ha.

  GEORGE: Big talk.

  EMIL: I'm ready to back it up.

  GEORGE: Oh yeah?

  EMIL: Yeah.

  GEORGE: All right.

  EMIL: . . . anytime you're ready.

  GEORGE: I'm ready.

  EMIL: All right, then.

  GEORGE: Are you ready?

  EMIL: You betcha, Red Ryder.

  GEORGE: Good.

  EMIL: . . . Hey! What? Grownups squabbling about birds?

  GEORGE: You started it.

  EMIL: I beg to differ.

  GEORGE: Go right ahead.

  EMIL: All right, I do differ.

  GEORGE: It makes no difference. I was holding an intelligent conversation and then you came along . . .

  EMIL: And simply pointed out that you were turning something into a thing which it is not.

  GEORGE: What is more noble than a duck.

  EMIL: Depends on the duck.

  GEORGE: Is a pigeon more noble than a duck.

  EMIL: Are you saying that just because the duck is wild and has no rules . . .

  GEORGE: No rules? No rules? No rules but the sun and the moon! No rules but the law of the seasons and when to go where at what specific time? No rules but to find a mate and cleave into her until death does him part?

  EMIL: Is that true?

  GEORCE: It surely is.

  EMIL: That I didn't know.

  GEORGE: Well, learn from your mistakes.

  EMIL: I will.

  GEORGE: No rules!

  EMIL: All right.

  GEORGE: One of the most rigid creatures.

  EMIL: I'm sorry.

  GEORGE: Did you know that many human societies are modeled on those of our animal friends?

  EMIL: Pish.

  GEORGE: I beg to differ about it.

  EMIL: Pish foo.

  GEORGE: The French, for example.

  EMIL: Are modeled on animals?

  GEORGE: Historically, yes.

  EMIL: Where did you get that?

  GEORGE: Some guide to France.

  EMIL: I don't believe it.

  GEORGE: I got it somewhere, I'll show you.

  EMIL: You do that.

  GEORGE: I will.

  EMIL: You just do that.

  GEORGE: Don't push me.

  EMIL: I won't.

  GEORGE: All right.

  EMIL: Darn tootin’.

  TWELFTH VARIATION

  “Whenever I Think Of Wild Flying Things”

  EMIL: W
henever I think of wild flying things I wonder.

  GEORGE: Yes?

  EMIL: If, in the City, as we are . . .

  GEORGE: Yes?

  EMIL: We maybe . . .

  GEORGE: Yes?

  EMIL: Forget it.

  GEORGE: Ducks.

  EMIL: Ducks.

  GEORGE: Ducks. Flying wild.

  EMIL: Wild over boundaries.

  GEORGE: Lakes, rivers.

  EMIL: Imaginary lines . . .

  GEORGE: The Equator.

  EMIL: Never minding . . . Never stopping . . .

  GEORGE: Stopping for no man.

  EMIL: High above unmanned terrain.

  GEORGE: Barren.

  EMIL: Unexplored North Country.

  GEORGE: Naked. Strange.

  EMIL: Here and there a Mountie.

  GEORGE: Cold.

  EMIL: Nowhere to rest.

  GEORGE: What a life.

  EMIL: Sleeping on the fly.

  GEORGE: Blown by storms.

  EMIL: You know, that is not a laughing matter . . .

  GEORGE: Who's laughing?

  EMIL: Much wildlife is, I am about to tell you, killed each year in storms and similar . . . things where they have a lot of wind.

  GEORGE: Don't I know it.

  EMIL: Another countless danger for the duck.

  GEORGE: Frost, too.

  EMIL: Hail.

  GEORGE: Uh.

  EMIL: Can you imagine it?

  GEORGE: . . . Hail . . .

  EMIL: Pelting the poor creature. Alone in the sky. Many feet in the air. He can't go right, he can't go left. . . .

  GEORGE: Nowhere to go.

  EMIL: Hail all over. Hitting him. Pelting him. Making ribbons of his wings. Creaming him out of the sky.

  GEORGE: The Law of Life.

  EMIL: That's what you say now.

  GEORGE: Some must die so others can live.

  EMIL: But they must die, too.

  GEORGE: So some must die so others can live a little longer. That's implied.

  EMIL: And then they die.

  GEORGE: Of course. So that others can live. It makes sense if you think about it.

  THIRTEENTH VARIATION

  “They Stuff Them”

  EMIL: They stuff them.

  GEORGE: Eh?

  EMIL: They stuff them. They shoot them and they stuff them.

  GEORGE: So long as they're dead.

  EMIL: Sawdust. And they tack ‘em on the wall.

  GEORGE: Also they stuff ‘em for the oven.

  EMIL: That too.

  GEORGE: Yeah.

  EMIL: But to kill for no reason . . . without rhyme or reason . . . to shoot them. What a waste.

  GEORGE: Yes.

  EMIL: What a waste in the life of a duck. To be shot. And not even eaten. Shot. Shot down like some animal.

  GEORGE: At least they shoot ‘em in the air.