Plays 1: Weird Time Blues by Colin Peterson, George O'Sullivan (parable of the sower read online TXT) 📖

new cock in the sales!

We hear her annoying laugh as the transmission ends, leaving the screen all fuzzy.

Marge: End of service. Would you like another service? Reminder: you are now very rich. Well done. Please have a good life. Please select another service. Awaiting selection.

Colley: (composes himself, sniggering at marge’s dumb comments.) No thanks, Marge. (Takes the pot plant, near the side of the TV, and hugs it, tenderly.) I’ll be fine.

Colley then jumps onto the bean bag, kicking it way and holds the plant up in the air with pride, as if it were a trophy

Colley: (smugly; beaming.) I’m fuckin’ flukey! Well flukey!

The lights fade slowly, leaving the static, and the sound of ‘Arto’ by System of A Down blaring, as Colley celebrates, posing jubilantly, then starts crying shaking his head, trashing everything, completely destructive, hitting himself, laughs, then keeps hitting himself.

Colley: IT CAN’T HAPPEN TO ME, I’M THA FUCKIN’ CONSTANT LOSER - NO WAY! WAKE UP FUCKIN’ WAKEYWAKEYWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!(Regains composure, then calmly.) Programme end.

Eternal Darkness.

COL46X by O'SULLIVAN and PETERSON 

"Our enemies skulk on every side, waiting for us to relax our vigilance. But we shall not give them the chance they seek to fall on and devour us. We shall stand firm, and our nation shall be purged of dross in the pure fire of self-sacrifice" John Brunner, 'Stand on Zanzibar', (1969;ed.1990, p.97)


Contents Instructions:

Lacey: he’s meant to be only fourteen, but looks older and needs a good seeing too as he's a cocky shit.

Bagoo: Lacey’s dad, who hates him, but strangely looks the same age as Lacey.

General Tunk: a guy who thinks he’s got ultimate power - but only from within his office.

Duvac: an uncontrollable power-tripper, who trains new recruits.

Shitball: formerly Pissball, now it’s Shitball.

Cackman: a Cackman, dealer to the cadets of his special home-made chocolate.

Choca: a mad hologram, induced by the over-consumption of Shitball’s chocolate, who wants out of Colony 46X.

Dr Tosst: claiming to be a doctor, he seems more interested in other experiments.

Fringle: the first female recruit and also a part-time therapist.

Troops: some are dodgy puppets, they're suckers, all in for the same thing.

Orderlies: also dodgy puppets - they get all the graft.

They all operate and do the voices of the puppets, some can be voiced over if you want. They have to be the worst cheapish looking puppets ever: Actors can also blur costumes and keep articles on/double up roles if desired; time kills and splurges anyway. N.B. Age, ethnicity and gender are completely remote in this play and are not important.

P.S. Thanks to HERB SKEW for letting us use Dr Tosst and General Tunk, both characters he created ages ago.


Scene 1
Tunk’s office. The office is destroyed. Tunk carries a pink gun and drinks from an empty bottle of whisky; he spanks himself with it. Explosions are heard as is the creaking of falling infrastructure. The office is made out of polystyrene. Fringle enters in torn clothes.

Fringle: Did a Dr Tosst ever work here?

Tunk: I dunno…I think I’m…Is this Lacey guy fit for service?

Fringle: He still has issues. He still thinks he’s on earth.

Tunk: We must stop confusing him and be more direct! Tell him the truth!

Fringle: I have!

Tunk: And?

Fringle: And what? He doesn’t know what the truth is. How original - lil’ cop out. I’ll kill him.

Tunk: I just need more troops, but I really need total control of all operations.

Fringle: Look, some are just not cut out for it. Lacey doesn’t seem to be cut out for anything. He takes solace in being an oddity - it’s the only sanity he knows. And I still think this Choca is not real. Don’t worry, General, I hope my Independent TV programme on this sort of stereotypical psychosis will get a lot of people interested and hopefully paranoid - so I can cure them. Of course, I won’t cure them all, some’ll commit suicide, but it will publicize my work and explain in more detail what the problems of the inter-galactic citizen are. Hopefully ratings will be high.

Tunk: There are twelve people left on the station - all administrative staff! We’re fucked! We've lost. Look at this place! The pirates think they have won, but wait until the rest of the United Forces get here! They’ll sort this out!

Fringle: Well, they are leaving us alone - they know we only have limited supplies left and will need them soon.

Tunk: I’m all right. The energy pods are safe; I’m fighting until the end.

Fringle: Well, as your therapist I must treat you until the end. Hopefully I can find another job once your dead.

Tunk: Cheers, Fringle.

Fringle: That’s all right - just being realistic!

There is the sound of a muffled explosion, then a huge rumble; gas filters through into the office. Tunk puts on a gas mask, Fringle picks up a gun and tries to kill herself, but a foam ball flies out of the gun. Tunk shakes his head, as Fringle chokes, but Tunk’s laughter goes out of control, as the gas subsides, almost feebly vanishing. Tunk gasps for breath, clasping at the air, then takes out a remote control: he points it at the audience, it suddenly goes from very intense white light to pitch black, very quickly, as if interference caused the disruption, or a brief power cut then surge, then back to white light.

Scene 2
Outside army HQ on Colony 46. Lacey enters, looking lost. He is confused by the sign saying: ‘ARMY HQ’. There is nothing else around. Lacey leans against the sign, which falls down. He struggles to put it back up, but it will not go back; it’s busted for good. Duvac enters (as printed in large letters on his army shirt); he rushes out and grabs Lacey.

Duvac: (angered.) Where have you been, Private? Where the fuck you been?

Lacey: I don’t know! I haven’t even joined the army yet?

Duvac: Slacker-scum! You call me Sir! You got that?

Lacey: Err...I suppose.

Duvac: It’s: 'Yes sir'! SIR! Sir!

Lacey: (does a curtsey.) Why thank you, Madame!

Duvac: Oh, you’re a cocky, one, eh? You lil’ vandal, huh? You like to suck dicks? You think you’re a writer?(Lacey looks really confused.) You think going to tell everyone how brutal this campaign is? You want to be Mr. Smug Liberal and look clever-clever? Well, get off the skag fucker! I’m the Sarge here and you’ll be a kill crazy soldier by the end of this? You got that? GOT IT FUCKS!

Lacey: So I have to go to war?

Duvac: You taking the piss?

Lacey: (looks at the audience, laughing.) Well, yeah! (Duvac feebly punches him; Lacey struggles for breath, but is smiling.) Do it again?

Duvac: (shocked.) Why? You think you’re smart! I know what you want!(Feebly punches his genitals.) Stay back, ladies!(And again, another weak punch.) STAY BACK! You want to get hurt so you don’t have to fight! Oh, I see. You young ‘un’s clever these days! Well, I’ll teach you the way; get you fightin’ on crutches if it kills me.

Lacey: I take it you hate me.

Duvac: You’re a slave, so shut up and get into uniform! GO! (Duvac tries to tear Lacey’s romper/space suit and bib off; Lacey screams and knees Duvac in the groin. Duvac goes down) You little, fucker! Oooooheeeeeerrrr.

Lacey: Er, sorry. I wasn’t trying to be individual, or liberal; I thought you wanted my arse. (Putting his arm around Duvac, helping him up, slowly.) I’ve heard stories about…I suppose I was fresh meat to you. Like your slave, eh? Slave 2U, all that Dadagaga stuff. It’s the rumours, you shouldn’t have said slave. Sorry. Comrade?

Lacey exits quickly, as Duvac slowly gets to his feet.

Scene 3
Tunk’s office. Duvac enters, still hurting; his penis has swollen up and his trousers are bursting open. He struggles to hold his trousers up, so he holds them with one hand. Tunk stares at Duvac’s giant penis and balloon-like testicles.

Tunk: What do you want?

Duvac: We have a problem; one of the recruits. He’s feisty. Might set a bad idea. Morale’s already at a low; let’s kick his butt.

Tunk: I suppose he’s fashionably anti-war: a hippie- hater but loves their drugs. Umm. Tough. Okay, I know what to do: put a psycho-grunt on his case, we’ll send him over-the-edge - or is it over-the-top? And all his efforts to create an insurrection will go down the shitter, and we’ll keep him in solitary. That’s civil. We’ll give him soggy biscuits, soak ‘em in piss - like in the Foreign Legion.

Duvac: (drooling menacingly.) Good one, sir.

Tunk: Don’t thank me; thank God. Did this recruit do that to your penis?

Duvac: Yes.

Tunk: Is he a clone?

Duvac: No. Not to my knowledge. Unmodified. (Licking his lips.) Pure.

Tunk: Pure breeds are rare in the army. He must be a slacker.

Duvac: He’s doing a degree.

Tunk: Just as I thought: secretly work-shy, but proud of his debts. He’ll never get a real job anyway; let’s make him the colony washer. He can get some free coffee.

Duvac: I think he’s more dangerous, sir! He’s got problems!

Tunk: Hasn’t everyone?

Duvac: Not to my knowledge, sir.

Tunk: Well, there you go then! You don’t know - nor do I! - but we can assume that was a ‘yes’.

Duvac: Okay, whatever.

Tunk: Good. We agree? Yes?

Duvac: Yes...YES SIR! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -

Tunk: This is what we have to stamp out: anyone who cares about other human beings. It is very unprofessional. You see Duvac -

Duvac: (imploring.) Please don’t lecture me, puh-lease!

Tunk: Look: just pretend to listen! You can do that can’t you?

Duvac:(unsure.) Well -

Tunk: As I was saying, Duvac, life itself must be economical; not in an abstract way, but as we are a colony the furthest away from earth’s influence, we must make decisions. If people get killed, so be it. We aren’t all the same and some of us deserve a better life than others, that’s perfectly natural. We must destroy it, all of it. Destroyyyyyy! DESSSSTROOOOOYYYYY! (Beat; smiles, drifting away; Duvac waves his hand past Tunk’s eyes; Duvac turns to the audience, baffled. Tunk’s in a trance, which he suddenly breaks, startling Duvac.) It will be destroyed on behalf of the United Inter-Galactic Forces!

Duvac: Was I meant to cheer, sir?

Tunk: Look, give this problem cadet a good beating and then assign him to the death-squad. If he’s still cocky - fuck him...up! I mean, cut off some limbs and stick him in the maintenance deck.

Duvac: Yes, sir!

Tunk: (pause.) Okay, you can go now. Get your penis seen to.

Duvac exits, smiling.

Scene 4
Barracks Lacey enters. Everything is weak. The beds are pieces of cardboard and they are hung upon strings. The Troops enter, we hear