“A GOOD FEELING”
by OPOVV, ©2014
(Jun. 10, 2014) — ACT I
Lights dim as the curtain rises on a set reminiscent of the bookie operation in the movie “The Sting.” There are 20 males on the stage, equally divided between employees (distinguishable by wearing arm garters and dealer‘s visors) and ten ladies selling cigarettes and drinks. The scene is bustling. The muted background sounds are of a radio broadcasting a horse race and Elvis Presley singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” The spotlight focuses on stage left where a bettor, a well-dressed man in his 30’s, is trying to place a bet at the window.
Scene 1
Bettor: “Look, all I want to do is get in on the ground floor. The sign says you’d take any bet: well, why won’t you take it?”
Bookie: “Look, mister, I ain’t taking that bet or any bet from you. First, it’ll never happen and, second, I don’t want a lot of people killed on my conscience.”
Bettor: “But we hear it every night from ‘Mr. Fair-and-Balanced’ himself: ‘moderate Muslim.’ He’s been saying that for years.”
Bookie: “So what? I’ve been telling my wife I like her mother for years.”
Suddenly, the lights go out on stage. All is quiet.
Scene 2
The spotlight slowly comes back on the Bookie and the Bettor. Muted sounds of Elvis Presley singing “I Believe in the Man in the Sky” and “Walking by My Side” are heard as an angel dressed in snow-white wings and robe enters from stage right (more elaborate productions have the angel descending from above) followed by a spotlight.
Angel: “Gentlemen, gentlemen, let me lend you a hand.”
Bookie: “Who the heck are you? Where you get them wings? Look, you’re months too early. This is June; Halloween ain’t ’till October.”
Bettor: “Where all the people go? I ordered a drink, where is she?”
Angel: “You were trying to cheat on your wife, that’s what you’re up to. Besides, the drink girl has a boyfriend and she’s in love, so leave her alone.”
Bettor: “You can’t talk to me that way and, besides, so what if I’m trying to make it with that cocktail waitress, what do you care? Besides, it’s none of your business anyway.”
Angel: “Well, I suppose you’re right as far as it goes, but I happen to know that your wife is a good woman and you’re a cad. But I wasn’t sent down here to talk about your failings as a responsible, upstanding, honest and trustworthy husband; I’m here to help make this bet of yours a reality.”
Bookie and Bettor: “Say what?”
Angel: “We’re going to, right now, invent Islam for the moderates. The non-moderates can keep their everyday old men exploiting young girls and their favorite pastime of animal cruelty and murdering their fellow human being for the fun of it.”
Bookie and the Bettor: “And you’re OK with that?”
Angel: “No, of course not, but the playing field that God has set up for you humans gives you ‘Free Choice,’ which means it’s up to you to either live by the Golden Rule or suffer the consequences for eternity.”
Lights slowly dim as the curtain is lowered.
ACT II
The curtain rises on the Pearly Gates at stage rear. In the forefront are the Bookie, Bettor and the Angel seated at a card table. The faint sounds of Elvis Presley singing “Crying in the Chapel” is heard.
Angel: “As I understand it, you, young man, are trying to make a bet that there is no such thing as a ‘moderate Muslim’ and you, Mr. Bookie, say that if a moderate Muslim is discovered he or she will be killed. Is that about the gist of it?”
Bookie: “Look, I don’t want no girl buried alive on my brain, or any beheadings, if that’s what you mean.”
Bettor: “Let’s forget the whole deal. Nice music, by the way. And I’m not going to cheat on my girlfriend, okay? I want to go home, if you don’t mind.”
Angel: “But I do mind; besides, it’s my job. Look here, I want you to make this bet. It’s a good bet, like the Americans trying to save the South Vietnamese from Communism, that kind of thing: you know, good intentions. So here’s what we’re going to do: we, or you two, are going to publish a book called ‘The Precepts of Islamb.’ It is basically not a very long nor complicated book, but it’ll be the quasi-religious book of the moderate Muslims, okay?”
Bookie and Bettor: “Sure, whatever you want.”
Angel: “Come on, fellows, get with the program: at least try and act enthused; you’re not going back until you do.”
Bookie: “Okay! Wow, think of all the people we can save!”
Bettor: “Let’s get to work!”
Curtain lowers.
Act III
Curtain rises on the bookie operation as in Scene 1, ACT I, but without the people, except an old man (who looks like the Angel without the wings and white robe) pushing a broom. The Bookie and Bettor are seated at a table, front-center. Lights are dim except for a light hanging from a long cord suspended from the ceiling over the table. The faint music of Elvis Presley singing “If We Never Meet Again” is heard.
Bookie: “I got your message. What’s the news?”
Bettor: “Well, here it is. You remember what we told them? Take all the bad parts out, the ‘killing Jews, Christians and Infidels’ and not treating animals and women without kindness and respect? At first I was disappointed, but the more I thought about it, driving over, the more I like it. Here’s a copy.”
The Bettor reaches down to a box on the floor and hands the Bookie a copy of the new book.
Bookie: “Why, this ain’t no book. This is just one page between the covers.”
Bettor: “That’s okay. Read it.”
Bookie: “Well, the cover has ‘The Precepts of Islamb,’ and I’ll open this book to its one and only page. Ah! I get it. Here on the one and only page it is written: ‘The Golden Rule: do unto others as you would expect to have done unto you.’ Yes, I get it. Very good. Hey, you know something? After work I don’t go to the bar until closing anymore; I go straight home to my wife and kids, what about you?”
Bettor: “I saw the light, is what I did: Trust is the key. I looked in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw. You know, don’t just preach the Golden Rule thing: live it. I’m getting married next month. Hey, I’d be proud to have you as my Best Man.”
Bookie: “Really? Best Man? And me a Bookie, think of that. Sure, I’d be honored to. Say, we’re having a cookout tomorrow for lunch, what say you bring your soon-to-be-Better-Half on over? It will just be the wife and kids. I’ve got a good feeling our wives are going to be good friends.”
Bettor: “You know what, what say we invite that clean-up guy over there sweeping the floor? You know something, I’ve got a good feeling about this whole ‘Islamb’ thing, what say you?”
Bookie, Bettor and broom-pusher laugh.
Bookie: “I’d lay odds that you’re right.”
Lights dim as the curtain is lowered.
FINI