by Roving Reporter, ©2023
(Aug. 25, 2023) — “Stay” (1:38)
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to ‘The Pulse of the Nation,’ the place to hear it first. Tonight, we’ve been invited down to the little church on Hawthorn Street to witness the first run of a play written by Bishop Dunkin. We’re ensconced up in the balcony, out of the way, so as not to make anyone nervous or be the cause of a missed cue. And here is the Bishop himself, entering from stage left, walking to the center of the curtain, stopping, and facing the audience.”
“Salutations, one and all. Tonight, you will witness an event that has not taken place but may likely occur in the very near future. The weapons the actors will use are cap guns shooting caps so there’s no reason to be alarmed when the shooting starts. All the actors are recent graduates of our church high school, some of whom are destined to be drama majors. Please stand while we recite the Pledge of Allegiance.”
“Justice for All” (2:24)
The curtain rises as the house lights dim to the music of “Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto 1” (3:26). The stage is set like a New York-style Pizza Parlor; the clock on the back wall shows midnight. The workers are sitting around the tables, one group in grubby whites, the other in waitress uniforms. There is a smattering of customers finishing their meal.
Man, table #1: “I’m tellin’ you, something’s got to be done.”
Woman, table #1: “But why you? Why not some other schmuck?”
Man, table #1: “Well, somebody better do something before it’s too late, and it may even be too late already.”
Man, table #2: “Excuse me; I mean, we were hearing what you two were talking about; I mean, our tables are almost touching, and we had the exact same conversation the other day, that somebody better do something before it’s too late.”
Chef #1, table #8: “The enemy isn’t China or the Russians; it’s our own darn government.”
Cheers from the waitress table and the others in grubby whites.
Man, table #1: “Well, there’s a lot of talk but I don’t see anybody doing anything. Heck, by the time somebody does something, it’ll be all over.”
Voice from the waitress table: “Talk, talk, talk. You know what? Every table I waited on tonight was having the same conversation and they’d shut up when I got too close, as if I couldn’t hear them whispering from across the room. Always the same conversation: the DOJ and the FBI are the enemy and we best be paying attention or any of us will be next. Like Trump [‘Trump Won‘ (3:30)] says, ‘They’ll be coming for you next.’”
Woman, table #2: “She’s right. Everybody is afraid to say anything; it’s like we’re living in a Police State, for crying out loud.”
The Bus Boy Chimes in: “We can fight back, you know.”
Chef #1, table #8: “Fight against the government? Good luck with that.”
The Bus Boy Chimes in: “No, really. All you gotta do is pick a spot and follow through.”
Man, table #2: “No, wait, let’s hear him out. What’ya mean, kid?”
The Bus Boy Chimes in: “Well, it’s complicated but it can be done. Dangerous? Without a doubt but, like everybody’s been sayin’, if something isn’t done, and done soon, it’ll be too late. What we do is pick a jail, any jail, where a few of the bogus Jan. 6 prisoners are being held or, for that matter, anyone behind bars because they spoke out against the tyranny we’re seeing every day.”
Man, table #1: “Okay, kid, you got our attention. What exactly are you proposing?”
End of ACT I. Curtain lowers to the sound of the “Vienna Waltz” (2:20). Curtain is raised to reveal the same actors and actresses dressed in Army fatigues, each holding some sort of weapon except for the Bus Boy Chimes in who is holding an electronic gizmo. They are in what looks like a park, picnic tables and tall oak trees. In the background, about a block away, is a brick building with a sign: COUNTY JAIL.
Bus Boy Chimes in: “Okay, this is it. My machine will render their communication useless: no phone, not even a CB.”
The woman from table #2: “What’s a ‘CB?’”
Bus Boy Chimes in: “It’s what the truckers use, warning other truckers of bears.”
The woman from table #2: “Oh.”
Bus Boy Chimes in: “Now listen. We will be dealing with Neanderthals who know very little about anything except making people’s lives miserable. Okay, I know the drill: there are some cops and other government employees who are honest and trustworthy, maybe 10% of them. Happy? We’ll march on up to the gate — which my gizmo will unlock — and once we’re inside Mary will read them the ultimatum. Go ahead and read it now, Mary.”
Waitress Mary: “Greetings. Now please pay attention. You are housing seven prisoners who shouldn’t be here, you got that? And for your information, there’s a group of us at the judge’s and DA’s houses taking them into custody to give them more of a choice than they ever gave any of the people we’re going to free today. We will ask them about the Constitution: ‘Do you follow the Constitution or do you follow illegal orders?’ If they answer ‘illegal orders,’ they will be subject to punishment, maybe the word ‘TRAITOR’ tattooed on their forehead. Same to you. If you fight us, you will suffer grievous harm, of this I assure you.”
Bus Boy Chimes in: “Good. Now we fire our weapon into the dirt to get their attention for real.”
End of Act II. The curtain lowers as the house lights brighten. Once again, Bishop Dunkin walks out from stage left and addresses the audience.
Bishop Dunkin: “Picture what you just witnessed happening simultaneously in each of our 50 states, for real with real bullets and real tattoos. Thank you for watching our little play and we hope you enjoyed it. Goodnight.”
Bishop Dunkin exits stage left as the music of “Trumpet Solo” (1:14) is played.
FINI
“Well, that’s the end. Thanks for watching. Goodnight.
“And we’re outta here. Good show. Burger time.”
“Hang On Sloopy” (3:52)
Roving Reporter