ISLAMIC LAW AND CREEPING SHARIA
by OPOVV, ©2015
(Jul. 23, 2015) — ACT I
The curtain opens to the music of Mozart’s “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” The stage is set as a 1950’s-style kitchen, with the exception of the size. The counter is 6 feet high and the appliances are correspondingly very big. Stove is stage left; center stage is the sink; refrigerator is stage right. The players are dressed as 10-year-olds, 3 girls and 3 boys, sitting on large chairs in a semi-circle facing the audience. As the curtain reaches its zenith the music ends. The kitchen is well-lit and well-appointed: wallpaper, curtains at the windows, toaster on the counter. Lots of shiny chrome; even the cabinet handles are very large and very bright. Less-endowed productions would have the whole kitchen painted on a backdrop.
Sammy: “Did so.”
Mark: “Did not.”
Sammy: “Did so.”
Nancy: “Stop it! You’re making me dizzy. And neither of you knows what you’re talking about. We know the answer but we’re not telling, are we, Susan?”
Susan: “I’m not telling, unless you two keep at it.”
Mark: “Did not.”
Sammy: “Did so. You tellin’?”
Nancy: “Stop it! Golly, but boys can be such jerks. How y’all going to ever grow up acting the way you do? You’re not. We girls have it mostly figured out and we’re only ten-and-a-half. Okay, I’ll tell.”
Cheryl: “No, I get to ‘cause I heard my mother tell Nancy’s mother over the phone. ‘If any husband ever becomes a Muslim they’ll have a knife accident in the middle of the night. The Constitution applies equally to men and women.’ That’s exactly what I heard.”
Sammy: “See, I told you.”
Mark: “Big deal.”
Susan: “It is a ‘Big Deal,’ smarty-pants. Maybe it won’t happen tonight, or even tomorrow night, but maybe some night. You wouldn’t want to wake up dead, now, would you?”
Tom: “Golly, you don’t think we have any brains? You think that only girls have brains? Let me tell you, I could read when I was three.”
Cheryl: “You’re so childish. We all grew up learning to read by watching the Cookie Monster.”
Sammy: “I liked the Count.”
Mike: “Cookie Monster.”
Mark: “Big Bird” was too goofy for me. He always sounded like my Sunday school teacher, ‘Jesus fed a lot of people.’ Heck, all you need is a credit card.”
Cheryl: “They didn’t have credit cards in the time of Jesus. They used shekels. I pay attention in school and do my homework after school and don’t waste my time playing baseball and basketball. I’ve seen you playing basketball in the school yard on weekends when it’s been snowing, Tom.”
Tom: “Boys will be boys.”
Cheryl: “I give up.”
Susan: “I gave up a long time ago. You boys better treat us girls right or you’ll wake up dead.”
Mark: “You can’t wake up dead because if you’re dead you won’t wake up.”
Nancy: “Mark, your assignment is to go to a dictionary and look up the word ‘insufferable.’”
The curtain lowers as Lesley Gore’s song “That’s the Way Boys Are” is heard, as a loud woman’s voice comes over ALL the speakers in the auditorium: “Don’t touch the oven, you’ll burn yourself.”
ACT II
Curtain rises to the music of “Exodus” by Ferrante and Teicher. The stage is set as before except the counter and appliances are of normal size. The players are dressed as young adults. The seating is the same on normal-sized chairs.
Sammy: “She gave you an ‘F’?”
Tom: “An ‘F’ minus.”
Susan: “She’s always had it in for you, ever since you refused to pretend you were a Muslim. You told her to, what did you say, ‘Put on your burqa and go and stand in the corner and keep your mouth shut’? Boy, that wasn’t very smart.”
Mark: “She even sent him to the Dean to get expelled.”
Tom: “That she did, but I convinced Dean Miller that I was just acting my part. And he agreed with me but she got me in the end: she gave me a ‘C’ for the class. If we were real Muslims she’d have been ‘honor-killed.’”
Nancy: “What is it with those people? Don’t they have anything better to do except going around killing people?”
Mike: “They don’t know any better. It’s what they’ve been taught. They don’t even know that people can live their whole lives without spending all of their time killing people, or beating them, and inflicting pain and death upon animals. They just don’t know any better.”
Sammy: “So that makes it alright? They get a ‘free pass’ because they’re, what, ignorant?”
Mike: “No, of course not. They know they’re doing wrong, which is why they always have their faces covered. Even they know whatever they’re doing is wrong. Bunch of cowards.”
Nancy: “I’ve noticed that, too. They’re real brave when they got somebody who can’t fight back. If they’re going to behead someone they ought to give the prisoner a knife and see who beheads who.”
Tom: “You got sent home, Susan, wearing that see-through burqa.”
Susan: “Well, I was wearing my swimsuit.”
Mark: “A bikini. I thought you looked hot.”
Susan: “And that was the whole point. They’re a bunch of hypocrites. They get out of their country and the first thing they do is go to strip clubs. ‘Religion’. It’s a cult of hate, is what it is.”
Cheryl: “We have a calendar that’s got pretty pictures of flowers and stuff with quotations from the Bible, but, in little italicized letters, it also tells us of all the Islamic holidays. Pamela Geller calls it ‘Creeping Sharia.’”
Mike: “Why do the politicians put up with these creeps? Just nuke ’em and get it over with. I tell you, the adults of today are leaving us a world going down the tubes.”
Tom: “So we’ll deal with it. But not the way today’s yo-yo’s are dealing with the problems.”
Cheryl: “At first I’d disagree with you, but not anymore. They don’t respond to logic, reason or just common sense. You can’t take them at their word. Why do we have any of these animals in our country? They don’t like our way of life; they’re anti-democracy, anti-free speech; and anti-women.”
Nancy: “They’re crazy.”
Sammy: “Psychos.”
Nancy: “In Kabul the religious police caught a women baking bread in her oven, and she was selling the bread. Well, they put her in her own oven and burnt her alive, but what about the people who were buying her bread? It’s as if they arrest the prostitute but not the John. Hypocrites.”
Players stand and face the audience and say, “Thanks for watching our play. Goodnight,” and walk off as the curtain is lowered to the song of Elvis Presley’s “Treat Me Nice” as a woman’s voice is heard over ALL the speakers in the auditorium. “Don’t touch the oven, you’ll burn yourself.”
FINI