by Professor Wert, ©2021
(Apr. 15, 2021) — Note to the audience: During a sojourn through the Greek Isles, I stayed a night in a shepherd’s hut during one cold and blustery night. The wind was howling and the tiles on the roof were becoming loose. The storm’s passing brought the dawn and, as I stepped out from the shelter, I spied an old manuscript that was lying at my feet. Someone, thousands of years ago, hid that play, for what reason we may never know, unless it explained a current event or, even more likely, a future one. I rewrote it to fit our times.
Mrs. Doctor, the Dolt’s wife
Nancy What’s Her Name
And the Fish that Talks
The house lights dim as the curtain rises on a beach — water to the right, dunes on the left — as The Dolt, an old man about 80, walks to the water’s edge and scans the horizon. After a moment a fish pops his head out of the water and talks to the audience.
And the Fish that Talks: “Can you believe this? This guy was here yesterday, talking to the water, so this eel decides to have some fun and pops his head out and he says to ‘Mr. Derangement,’ ‘Hey, Bro, what’s happening?’ Well, you should’ve seen it, an old man doing an Irish jig on the beach.”
The Dolt: “Oh, Mr. Eel, are you home?”
The Fish that Talks hides behind a wave: “Here I am. What can I do for you today?”
The Dolt: “I’ve been told that I’m a president, but the whole election was a fraud. Millions of illegal votes were counted on my behalf; should I just go with the flow and be the president or should I tell the truth?”
The Fish that Talks: “Continue being the straight man, while continuing running interference for Barry Soetoro, aka Obama.”
The Dolt: “I’m sorry; I’m still not so sure, but I’m afraid of being bumped-off, otherwise I just might come clean. But if I do that, would it mean my whole life was worthless?”
The Fish that Talks: “No doubt about it, but then you were always a ‘little man,’ weren’t you?”
The Dolt: “Yes, that is true, but my greatest attribute has always been telling the Big Lie over and over until even I believe it; it has always been my greatest strength.”
The Fish that Talks: “I say as long as the nitwits refer to you as ‘The President,’ go with the flow and maybe you’ll not see the inside of a prison cell before you die.”
The Dolt: “That sounds like sound advice; I’ll take it but I don’t want any more news conferences; they give me headaches.”
The Fish that Talks: “They give us all headaches.”
The Dolt: “See? I was right. No more questions that I don’t know the answer to; I mean, I can never even figure out the question in the first place, so what chance does a body have trying to figure out complicated answers, like maybe there’s a ‘Part 2’ involved. What then?”
The curtain lowers.
The curtain rises to the stage set as the Oval Office. Mrs. Doctor, the Dolt’s wife, is sitting at the desk as The Dolt enters from stage right.
Mrs. Doctor, the Dolt’s wife: “Oh, hello, did you have a nice time talking to the fishes?”
The Dolt: “Yes, I did. You know, I had no idea that fishes were so smart. I asked if I should continue as a fraud and the fish said… well, I think I’m okay with being what I am.”
Mrs. Doctor, the Dolt’s wife: “Now isn’t that nice? See, I laid your blanket out, right over there, in the corner, and look here, I have a carton of milk and a colored straw for you.”
The Dolt: “Thank you, my dear. Do you think history will think kindly of me?”
Mrs. Doctor, the Dolt’s wife: “Not a chance, so forget about any library, legacy or everlasting tribute paid to you. I’m sorry to be the bearer of the truth, but someone around here has to speak it.”
The Dolt: “Barry doesn’t lie.”
The Doctor, the Dolt’s wife: “You mean Obama? I wish you wouldn’t call him that; his whole life is a lie, just like yours is; nothing but hot air, but don’t worry about it. I don’t, not as long as the money from China keeps rolling in.”
There’s the sound of a knock on the door as Mr. Zimmer, the Chief of Staff, walks in from stage left.
Mr. Zimmer: “Oh, lucky me; I caught you before you took your nap. Oh, I see today you’re using a little black straw; how ‘black’ of you. Let me call the photographer, Mr. Ziffle, so we can show the gullible how ‘black’ you truly are.”
The Dolt: “Do you think history will judge me kindly?”
Mr. Zimmer: “Not a chance, why would you care anyway; you never gave a hoot about what people thought of you before.”
The Dolt: “No, that’s right, I haven’t, have I? Maybe that’s something I’ll have to think about as I lay me down to sleep.”
There’s the sound of a knock on the door as Claude Ziffle enters from stage left and starts to set up his camera contraption, similar to what Mathew Brady used during the Civil War.
Claude Ziffle: “Hello, Mr. President and Doctor. Oh, I see you’re using a black straw, how very ‘black’ of you. I don’t know why you care about less than 14% of the population.”
Mr. Zimmer: “Because they own 100% of the unregistered guns, that’s why. And they do 90% of the crime.”
The Dolt: “I thought Congress did all the crime.”
Mr. Zimmer: “It’s a question where the decimal point is. Because the Democratic Party has been so successful in keeping the ghetto kids dumbed down, they can’t figure in big numbers; only Congress can.”
The Dolt: “So that’s why I’m a millionaire many times over yet my salary has always been chump change. Where do you want me to stand?”
Claude Ziffle: “I think it would be nice if you lay on your blanket, on your right elbow, and take the milk with your left hand as your wife hands you the little milk carton with the little black straw.”
The Dolt: “Can’t we get a bigger straw? This one seems a little small; I wouldn’t want to send the wrong message.”
The Doctor, the Dolt’s wife: “I think the president has a point.”
Mr. Zimmer: “Let me call the Pentagon; maybe the National Guard has what we need.”
There’s a knock on the door as Nancy What’s Her Name enters from stage left.
The Doctor, the Dolt’s wife: “Never mind abut the straw; we’ll have Nancy What’s Her Name give the milk to the fraud — I mean the president.”
The Dolt: “Hello, Nancy What’s Her Name; do you think history will write kindly about me?”
Nancy What’s Her Name: “Not a chance, Mr. Fraud Beyond Belief. No way.”
“The Dolt: “Now why do you think that?”
Nancy What’s Her Name: “Because you’re just a puppet of the Deep State. Look, Mr. President, it’s called Fascism, the marriage between the government and private enterprise: you know, what Eisenhower called the Military Industrial Complex.”
The Dolt: “You mean like when General Electric builds submarines, they’re really printing money?”
Nancy What’s Her Name: “Maybe you’re not as stupid as everyone says you are, Mr. President.”
Claude Ziffle: “Okay, folks, let’s get this done. Mr. President, time for your nap; Nancy What’s Her Name, hand him the milk; Doctor and Mr. Zimmer, please stand behind them and…hold it…hold it… That’s it. All done, thank you.”
The Dolt: “That was sure fun. I’m going to take my nap now. Did you know that they call them ‘nooners’ in the Navy? Where’s my teddy bear?”
The Doctor, the Dolt’s wife: “Here it is. Go to sleep now and don’t worry about history. There, now.”
Mr. Zimmer: “Why does he care about history? Do any of us?”
Nancy What’s Her Name: “Of course not. Maybe he read an editorial in The P&E that exposed him to the truth.”
Mr. Zimmer: “We can’t be having the truth get out; what then?”
Nancy What’s Her Name: “If the truth ever got out, then Obama would be exposed as a fraud, this election would be over and Trump would be president.”
Curtain lowers and pops back up to the same scene as the first act And the Fish that talks sticks its head up out of the water and addresses the audience.
And the Fish that Talks: “Well, what did you expect? Let me tell you something: history is written by the conquerors, and the way it’s beginning to look, Barry Soetoro, aka Obama, is the greatest president ever with Biden a close second, unbelievable as it may seem. As I said, to the victor go the spoils: the Deep State is stealing our country’s wealth right before our eyes and will attempt to use each and every excuse to get our guns.
“Do you think for one New York minute that the Chinese Communist Party cares about the legacy of the men and women buried in Arlington National Cemetery, or, for that matter, any hallowed ground where a Patriot lies?”
“Hardly, which is what they think of us right now, in real time. And Nancy What’s Her Name is too stupid to care; all she thinks about is money.
“And speaking of thirty pieces of silver, I’ll end this play with a question: Who is the most evil: one who openly lies or the one who stabs you in the back? And then, after plunging the knife in as deep as it will go, twists it slowly, all the while smiling and waving and saying that ‘he fulfilled his Constitutional duty’ by being the biggest traitor this, or any other country, has ever seen.
Curtain lowers for the last time.