NARRATOR
Previously on “Three Rambunctious Writers”…
SHAKESPEARE
Some magic, the origin whereof I know not, didst force us, an ill-conceived triad of writers, to share an abode in early twenty-first century Portland, Oregon.
MRS JONES
I’ve read all Jane Austen’s books! I love them so much!
AUSTEN
They are no preparation for being abruptly told that one may be being manipulated by a global conspiracy!
SHAKESPEARE
Good Bob, wilt thou become a poet?
NARRATOR
And now… this week!
Back with Bob, Wilde and Shakespeare.
WILDE
He’s not answering. Perhaps we’ve overwhelmed him a little with our poetic genius.
SHAKESPEARE
Bob, we are but mortals, though our art be divine!
WILDE
Please don’t be intimidated by our thoroughly deserved wonderful reputations, Bob. I sense that you have a poetic countenance. Do you work out?
SHAKESPEARE
Bob, waste not thy talents on soulless machines.
WILDE
Perhaps we’ve bored him to death.
SHAKESPEARE
Mayhap he’s deaf. Ha! I hath made a pun!
WILDE
I heard it, Will. Thanks.
NARRATOR
Meanwhile…
Back with Austen and Mrs. Jones.
MRS JONES
Which is your favourite Jane Austen book?
AUSTEN
Oh, I could never choose. They are all so excessively well written.
MRS JONES
Come on, you must have a sentimental favourite.
AUSTEN
Well, I greatly enjoyed writing Emma. I mean, reading.
MRS JONES
Yes, that’s a good one. Better than Mansfield Park, anyway. Ugh!
AUSTEN
There is nothing wrong with Mansfield Park! Why is it that so many in this time period seem to find it so insipid? In my own time it was the favourite of many!
MRS JONES
Your own time?
AUSTEN
My own country. England. Everyone in England loves Mansfield Park.
MRS JONES
Oh, I thought you said “time.”
AUSTEN
Clearly, I said “country!” The two words are very similar! In any case, I was certainly born in this time period.
MRS JONES
You seem very concerned about time periods, Jean.
AUSTEN
Well, truly, who is not? Tell me more of your admiration for Miss Austen.
NARRATOR
Meanwhile…
Back in the yard.
SHAKESPEARE
Come, Bob, do but speak a word to us. I canst not tell why thou dost glare with such venom.
WILDE
Bob, if you don’t want to be a writer, you could try being a socialite. It’s almost the same thing!
SHAKESPEARE
Why removest thou thy helmet, wise Bob? Dost thou wish to better appreciate the fair Spring air?
WILDE
Great Scott!
SHAKESPEARE
God’s teeth!
WILDE
Bob has cut off his ear!
SHAKESPEARE
But not recently, as canst clearly be seen, so let none say that we hath led him to this with our prattle.
WILDE
I doubt he intends to sue us. Bob, what—
BOB
My name is not Bob.
SHAKESPEARE
Thy pardon, good sir—we didst see thy nametag and most basely assumed—
BOB
No, my name is not Bob!
Bob laughs manically and somewhat insanely.
WILDE
You must have some name, though, unless your parents were very lazy.
BOB
My name…
He laughs again.
BOB
My name … is Vincent Van Gogh!
NARRATOR
Meanwhile…
Back inside the house.
MRS JONES
And that was how reading Jane Austen led me to meet my husband, the late Mr. Jones.
AUSTEN
My dear Mrs. Jones, I am deeply touched by this story.
MRS JONES
Thanks. Jane Austen’s great, isn’t she? Though sometimes I do prefer a good modern romance written in real English. Don’t you?
AUSTEN
No! How can you say such a thing?
MRS JONES
Wow, you’re quite the purist. I only said sometimes.
AUSTEN
I apologize, Mrs. Jones, that was most improper of me.
MRS JONES
You know, you talk a bit like a Jane Austen character.
AUSTEN
Well, life imitates art.
She laughs nervously.
MRS JONES
I must say, Jean, I’m glad I’ve found a friend to share my love of Austen with. I’ve been so lonely since I moved to this block! Everyone hates me because of my bulldozers and my fund-raising, and my helpful personal advice!
AUSTEN
I am sure you will make a wider acquaintance in time.
MRS JONES
If only I could talk to Austen herself! I would follow her advice, no matter what it was. Well, at least I have you, Jean. You’re a good friend. The quality that I value most in a friend is honesty, and I can intuitively tell that you are completely honest.
AUSTEN
Yes, well…
An awkward pause.
AUSTEN
Mrs. Jones, there’s something I have to tell you.
NARRATOR
Meanwhile…
Back outside
WILDE
By George!
SHAKESPEARE
God’s nostril!
WILDE
The Vincent Van Gogh?
VAN GOGH
The same.
SHAKESPEARE
But… thou art dead! How canst this be? Unless—art thou a spirit, come forth from the foulest pits of hell to speak with us? Back, spirit! Back to whence thou didst come!
WILDE
No, hang on a moment, spirit, you can go back to the foulest pits of hell in a bit. Were you by any chance mysteriously brought forward from the past and told to share a house with other artists?
VAN GOGH
You guess correctly.
WILDE
Curious.
SHAKESPEARE
Begone, demon! Entreat us not with thine evil words! We heed not thy prophecies.
VAN GOGH
Not heeding prophecies never worked out well in Shakespeare.
SHAKESPEARE
And referencing mine own words endears thee not to me! Oh, God’s appendix, I just gave away my secret identity.
WILDE
Mr. Orwell will be so disappointed in you.
SHAKESPEARE
I care not for what Orwell the paranoid doth think, but mayhap we shouldst have speech with thee, Master Van Gogh. Art thou no spirit, but only a denizen of the past, like myself?
VAN GOGH
Yes, once I was like you. Once I didn’t know the truth. How I envy you!
WILDE
But how is it, Mr. Van Gogh, that you were brought from the past despite never having written anything with any merit at all? They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I for one have never believed it, and—
VAN GOGH
There were others … before you.
He laughs insanely again.
WILDE
Beg pardon?
NARRATOR
Meanwhile…
Back in the house.
AUSTEN
Mrs. Jones, I am the Miss Jane Austen of whom you have spoken so highly.
MRS JONES
You mean to say, Jean Boston. I know you’ve mispronounced your own name in the past.
AUSTEN
No, this time my pronunciation was above reproach. I am Jane Austen. I wrote those books.
MRS JONES
What do you mean? That’s impossible!
AUSTEN
It might seem so, but not if one knows the truth! You see, a global conspiracy—
MRS JONES
I don’t hold with conspiracies. You’re not some kind of lunatic, are you?
AUSTEN
Of course not! So, as I was saying, a mysterious global conspiracy brought me forward from the past, and forced me to live in twenty-first century Portland! Many other writers are also here! My roommates—
MRS JONES
So you’re all crazy! I knew it! This is a block of lunatics!
NARRATOR
Meanwhile…
Outside.
VAN GOGH
How long have you been here, in the future?
WILDE
Well, discounting temporal paradoxes, around ten months or so.
VAN GOGH
I’ve been here for ten years.
SHAKESPEARE
But how canst this be?
VAN GOGH
Listen carefully. We don’t have much time. It was a terrible risk for me to contact you.
WILDE
Then why did you remain silent for so long, pretending to be a humble bulldozer driver?
VAN GOGH
Ten years ago, I was brought forward from the past and forced to live in twentieth-century Portland. I lived in an apartment complex with my fellow impressionists and we went bowling frequently with the modern artists. Life was good … for a while.
SHAKESPEARE
But then what didst change?
VAN GOGH
Something so terrible I cannot share it. They could be listening. Suffice it to say, I am now the only artist left alive. Except for ones who were born in this time period, I guess. Anyway, warn your fellow writers. Our fate may soon become yours.
Van Gogh laughs manically again.
WILDE
Wait! Don’t leave! Tell us what happened to the artists!
SHAKESPEARE
Master Van Gogh, return! Walk not into the fog as thou art doing. Who hath brought us here?
WILDE
He’s gone. I must say, that was a very strange encounter.
Jane Austen emerges from the back of the house.
AUSTEN
Good day, Mr. Shakespeare, Mr. Wilde. Shall we return home?
SHAKESPEARE
Jane! The strangest thing hath happened! We hath uncovered a clue—and, forsooth, a disturbing warning—about why we are in this time and place.
WILDE
We didn’t stop the bulldozers, though.
AUSTEN
That’s of no import. Mrs. Jones is moving out of town. I have driven her away with my bizarre, improper, and lunatic behaviour. She was kind, if misguided. Now, because of my negligence, we shall never see her or her bulldozers again.
WILDE
Good for you, Jane!
SHAKESPEARE
Indeed! Shall we celebrate?
The end.
No comments:
Post a Comment