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Proboscisbunny
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Posted: Tue Oct 23rd, 2007 11:50 pm |
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| Smoking the Bees by Vanessa David
Characters:
Father – Middle-aged, white.
Son – Young, biracial female.
Mother – Middle-aged, white.
Hunting Man – Middle-aged, black.
AT RISE: FATHER and SON are honey hunting. FATHER holds a smoking gourd. A beehive is humming with life.
FATHER
Here we are in ancient times and modern clothes. I, Father. You, Son. Smoking the bees for their honey. Stealing is key to Man’s success, young man. In the years to come Man will learn how to rob the earth of her resources, rape her animals, plunder her forests and empty her oceans. All of this he does without regard to her long term well-being – after all, he’s Man.
SON
Yeah, Dad. About this “man” thing.
FATHER
Shhh! The bees. Listen. The smoke is forcing them deeper into the hive. We’ll be able to harvest the honey in safety.
SON
What’s the smoke again?
FATHER
A secret blend of herbs and wood chips that’s been in our family for—
SON
--centuries and I’ll get it when I’m ready. Dad, I found this stuff in the woods. It was green and leafy and fluffy and sticky and I dried it and smoked it and I think it may really work on the bees because it sure did a number on me.
FATHER
You did what!
SON
I found this stuff in the woods. It was green and leafy and fluffy and sticky—
FATHER
That stuff is illegal! Wars have been fought over that stuff! That stuff is the gateway to people not being able to buy cold medicine!
SON
What’s cold medicine?
FATHER
In the future people use it to make crystal meth.
SON
Crystals are beautiful!
FATHER
It’s drugs, Son.
SON
Oh. About this “son” thing.
FATHER
Drugs are evil. Don’t do drugs. Just say “no.”
SON
But didn’t you say Man should take from the earth for his own pleasure?
FATHER
Not exactly.
SON
Yeah! Rob, rape, plunder, empty.
FATHER Not everything’s so black and white, Son.
SON
No kidding.
FATHER
See, we’re honey hunters. We go out into the woods to steal honey from the bees. Because it’s sweet, people like it, it sells. Profit. Capitalism – that’s what makes the world go ‘round. Now, I know there are other sweet things in this world. That stevia plant? The one I rip out all the time? You know what I’m talking about.
SON
Uh-huh.
FATHER
In the future the sugar industry will squash that herb like a bug. They’ll get governments to ban it. A plant! Just like your plant. And you don’t want to the government against you, son.
SON
But it grows on the earth – how can it be illegal?
FATHER
Not everything makes sense in life. I mean, here we are in ancient times and modern clothes. We’re harvesting honey, a gift from the gods. But in the future Man will make artificial sweeteners, chemicals - pesticides that kill the very bees we smoke for honey.
SON
So, there’s no honey in the future?
FATHER
Oh, there’s honey, Son. It’s mass-produced--
SON
Dad, about this “son” thing.
FATHER
Don’t interrupt me. In the future, large conglomerates make honey on a ginormous scale.
SON
“Ginormous” is not a word.
FATHER
It is in the future.
SON
Dad, I’m not your son.
FATHER
What?
SON
I’m a girl.
Beat
FATHER
Oh. (Beat) I knew this time would come.
SON
You knew?
FATHER
Well, yeah.
SON
Wha?
FATHER
Your mother and I, we wanted to give you the best in life - the best opportunities, the best jobs, promotions. Freedom - the right to vote, to own property.
SON
I can’t have that if I’m a woman?
FATHER
Not that I can see.
MOTHER (off-stage)
Yoo-hoo! I brought lunch!
MOTHER enters wearing a party dress, she has two knit lunch bags.
FATHER
Woman! How many times have I told you not to bother us when we’re honey hunting?
MOTHER
Stop calling me that, I have a name. (To SON) Mommy brought you some lunch.
SON
Thanks, Mom.
MOTHER
Anything for my little boy.
FATHER
She knows she’s a girl now.
MOTHER
You told?
SON
I figured it out. I kept peeing all over myself. I sat down.
MOTHER
You were always so smart. I don’t know what we were thinking, trying to raise you as a boy. You’re our daughter and we love you.
FATHER
Thanks for the lunch; we’ve got work to do.
SON
Mom, why do I have brown skin?
MOM
I have no idea.
FATHER
That’s just the way The Gods made you. I’ve got brown hair, your mother has blue eyes and you have brown skin - big whoop.
SON
You don’t think that’ll be a problem in the future?
FATHER
Don’t be ridiculous.
MOTHER
Listen to your father. (Clears her throat) I’d better go; it’s time for my knitting circle. Last time I got there late and one of the ladies had passed around a pipe filled with the most interesting smelling smoke. I dare say those ladies had a better time than I that day - although I did get more knitting done.
FATHER
(Trying to get rid of her) Are you going now?
MOTHER
Yes!
SON
(Stopping her) That’s all the explanation that I get? I should be a boy but it doesn’t matter if I’m brown. The world is unfair and thus we rape it and Mom can go smoke with her friends but I can’t?
FATHER
Basically.
MOTHER
Sweetheart, no one understands it all. We all like to think we can - some more than others. But all we can do in life is make the best of it.
SON
But you’ve deceived me - all these years.
MOTHER
Oh, Son- Daughter- Honeychile’. It hasn’t really been that long. Think back, what can you remember?
SON
Dad and I were honey hunting…and…only a moment before.
FATHER
See what those drugs did to your brain!
MOTHER
Live in the moment, my child.
FATHER
Can’t you go live your moment somewhere else?
MOTHER
I’m going to my knitting circle now. Not because your father has cued me to go but because it is time. And, like I said, I don’t want to miss that pipe.
SON
But, Mom, I—
MOTHER
Off I go! Toodles! Oh, eat your lunch before the salmonella takes over. Ta-ta!
MOTHER exits.
SON
What’s salmonella?
FATHER
Who knows? Your mother talks a lot of nonsense. (Beat) Where were we?
SON
In ancient times and modern clothes—
FATHER
--smoking the bees for their honey.
SON
I think the fire went out.
FATHER
Where’s my Zippo?
HUNTING MAN enters. He is wearing a knit tunic tied with a knit belt with a knit bag attached.
HUNTING MAN
Have you seen my pig?
FATHER and SON
AAAHHH!
HUNTING MAN
Ah! Have you seen my pig?
SON
You have brown skin!
HUNTING MAN
So do you, sister! Have you seen my pig? He’s pink.
FATHER
We’ve seen no pig today - never in these woods, in fact.
SON
I saw a pig once in these woods.
FATHER
You were high!
SON
No, it was before that. But it was black and small with horns.
HUNTING MAN
That may not be a pig. But, never-the-less it isn’t my pig. My pig is pink. Sorry to have bothered you. Good luck with the bees!
HUNTING MAN exits.
FATHER
When did you see a pig?
SON
A few weeks ago.
FATHER
Son- Daughter- What did she-- “Honeychile?” No, that’s not going to work for me.
SON
Beautiful. Call me Beautiful.
FATHER
Okay. (Beat) Everything that happens, Beautiful, is a lesson. We are learning everyday. The bees… We still need smoke. I didn’t lose my Zippo again, did I?
SON
Here, I have it. I pocketed it to use later…
FATHER
You were going to go smoke again.
SON
Let’s go smoke together. While we still can.
FATHER
Why do you say?
SON
I have to go help a man find his pink pig.
FATHER
Why must you go?
SON
The brown skin, he called me sister, Rosa Parks!
FATHER
Is that like Strawberry Fields?
SON
No. But it’s connected to me. I know it.
FATHER
But he hunts truffles. You know nothing of fungi! Honey! Beautiful, my honey - that is what I’ve taught you. That is what I’ve handed down. Beautiful, honey, it is all that I am.
SON
I will always love you, Father. I will never forget my time with you, or the moment before.
FATHER
What shall I tell your Mother?
SON
We’ll think of something good over a spliff.
FATHER
Will you still think of honey, Beautiful?
SON
Honey is sweet, but I must dig for truffles as one does for the truth.
FATHER
Digging, stealing, call it what you want. We all must use the earth to survive. Now let’s go smoke that stiff.
SON
Spliff.
FATHER
Spliff.
SON
Wait. Let’s collect the honey first. I can use it to make the rolling papyrus stick together.
FATHER
Your mother is right about you. You are smart. Now - give me that lighter. What we’ve got here in the smoker is equal parts cedar chips, pine needles, rosemary sprigs and dried mule dung. Light it, blow out the flame and… (Beat) Go. Find that man’s pink pig. And promise me one day you too will hand down the secret family smoke.
SON
I promise.
FATHER
Go. I can find the weed patch on my own. I was once a youth. One never forgets.
SON
Tell Mother I will miss her. I’ll come to visit. I’ll bring her truffles.
Pig noises are heard off-stage.
SON (cont’)
There it is!
FATHER
Go! Wait, your lunch - you can use it for bait.
FATHER gives SON her lunch. SON pauses, waits for another moment and goes. Beat. FATHER lights the Zippo and starts up the smoker again. He carefully blows the smoke over the hive. The bees hum.
FATHER(cont’)
Okay, honey. Come to Daddy.
END OF PLAY
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Edd
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Posted: Wed Oct 24th, 2007 12:39 pm |
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Vanessa! I freakin' LOVED this!!!!! What a way to start my day!
Raw, energetic, spontaneous, uninhibited, hysterical. Gaia and Thespis must stand up and cheer!
I haven't seen this kind of unbridled talent and energy since, since...I don't know. I'm so freakin' impressed! You have a fabulous voice.
Work like a demon, lady! You've got talent to sow.
~Edd
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Corerro
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Posted: Thu Oct 25th, 2007 01:18 am |
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| Impressive. I think the story shifts oddly when the Hunting man comes in from nowhere and is never heard from again... The "Rosa Parks" was a tad bit jarring as well with no set up, but these are easily pardonable jerks in my mind, brava!
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Paddy
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Posted: Thu Oct 25th, 2007 01:37 pm |
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Brava, Lady.
This is really excellent! I'm just so amused - amazed. It's rich and thick with issues and concepts that you weave in and out of the story effortlessly.
Knit. Pearl. Knit. Pearl.
You touch upon some heady ideas, and then you are off again, leaving us thinking. Really, this is the best thing I've read in ages! Subtext. It's all there, at the bottom of the cup, in the grounds.
This made me guffaw.
"she has two knit lunch bags"
This, made me laugh - a belly laugh - long and loud.
"HUNTING MAN enters. He is wearing a knit tunic tied with a knit belt with a knit bag attached."
And it was there...and I prayed you wouldn't explain what we already knew. And you didn't! Whew!
I would have like to see more evidence that some of the speeches were interrupted...
There is only one way I can explain the Rosa Parks line. In a play I wrote, Eugene Delecroix is about to leave Purgatory to be reincarnated - Mozart assures him it will be another visual artist. Clair Claremont says something like, wouldn't it be wonderful if you could go to your next life, and retain the talent you had in this one. Eugene turns at the door, "I suppose that would depend upon the persistence of memory."
The line makes sense. For the few in the audience who know that The Persistence of Memory is the title of Dali's melting watches painting, it will be much funnier, but will still make sense to those who don't.
Rosa Parks first of all took me out of your play, and I'm not sure you want that to happen at that crucial moment. Secondly, people who don't know who Rosa Parks is, will feel left out, or worse, be leaning into their companion asking, "who is Rosa Parks?" Again, something I don't thing you want happening.
So but for two words, and a couple of dots...I think this play is perfect, and perfectly wonderful!
Again, WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Paddy
Last edited on Thu Oct 25th, 2007 01:38 pm by Paddy
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in media res
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Posted: Sat Oct 27th, 2007 03:58 pm |
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vanessa,
'Bout time you posted! Glad you responded to the call!
I really enjoyed the imagination that kept going and going in this piece. It kept giving and giving. You took me into the play's own little singular world.
I see the "ancient times in modern clothes...etc" almost like a chant. Neat.
And it did not bother me with the Hunting Man coming and disappearing as the play is its own world, and you beautifully establish the intertwining primoridality and timelessness of the play right at the beginning.
The Rosa Parks line didn't jar me as you quickly had such a great comeback with Strawberry Fields!
This play is quite touching, and kind of scary.
And everyone has already posted comments that I felt were quite true and I need not repeat what I agree with.
I loved this.
Let's see more,
Thanks for posting!
best,
in media res
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Will Kemp
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Posted: Wed Mar 12th, 2008 03:05 pm |
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Hi Vanessa,
i loved the last scenelet, where they are smoking the bees out with their herbs.
I guess you would call this play a satire. However, I feel like it came out of some impulse besides satire, some pain. I wrote scenes satirizing the incredible contradictions in people in our society, and especially was interested in the injustice towards animals and women and then children and then races. [I feel people ought to focus on taking care of children and all the rest of the problems will be minimized. Politicians used Saddam Hussein's theft of money that was supposed to go to kids for milk in Iraq as an excuse for invading Iraq [then the new regime gets to steal the milk money and even kill kids instead of Saddam Husssein and his cronies stealing the milk money and raping the elementary school girls. [I read that his son would visit a school and pick out a girl to be delivered to him to be raped.]
Because I used to write these kind of satires, I guess you call them, I know that come from traumatization, not a sense of humor or even injustice, but trauma. It is traumatizing just to know what is done to children and the environment now, and what is done to animals in factory farming is terrible. I was deeply affected by the slaughter of the baby seals in the 1980s, and it is still going on.
So my thinking is, you are trying to get at something deeper. Nevertheless, this is a good expression of your sense of injustice and the outrageous contradictions in our society.
I was curious about whether you are for or against legalization of marijuana. Since they smoke the bees out at the end, I figured you weren't. Whether it is legalized or not, I am against it in principle, because it is dangerous: A 16 year old boy stoned on pot here went riding his motorbike last year and sailed through the air and hit a tree and killed himself in my best friend's yard. A 16-year-old boy hit my niece on a motorbike on the LA Expressway near La Jolla, California and she caught on the bumper of his SUV and he went down the expressway with her head bumping the highway. He went at least half a mile. He was stoned out of his mind plus on alcohol too. She was still alive, but technically dead. They got her heart going in the ER room -- a miracle. She was studying to be a geneticist who fights diseases. She could not remember anything exc ept her ABCs, but they gave her the best rehab in the United States, in Manhattan. She got out and got a job filing in a bank and shot herself anyway. I'm against anykind of useless getting high. I get high on nature and on art, but not on marijuana. I don't need anything to get high myself.
I try to take care of the bees now. I will try to plant more flowers for them. It's not just the bees -- it is everything. The trees are dying, I think. They cannot produce, with or without bees hee anymore. One species after another is dying.
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Proboscisbunny
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Posted: Thu Mar 13th, 2008 03:24 am |
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I am absolutely against the War on Drugs...so, yes, I'm for the legalization of Marijuana. Pot is not what's killing the bees...
Speaking of trauma and injustice...1 in 100 Americans is in jail. How many of those for consensual crimes? Crimes with no victims shouldn't be prosecuted...where's the freedom in that?
I don't want to turn this into a political thread.
Thank you for taking the time to read it. I thought I was clear in pointing out the absurdity of something that grows on the earth being illegal. Apparently I wasn't. I'll take a look at it.
Gardening season is coming up here in Connecticut. I'll be planting flowers for the bees myself :)
Vanessa
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Basso
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Posted: Thu Mar 13th, 2008 01:14 pm |
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Hey, Vanessa, I really enjoyed your play. You certainly threw everything and the kitchen sink in. I like that, especially in short plays, as I don't think everything needs a resolution, or even to be investigated. When I listen to most people's conversation it is like we all have ADHD, anyway.
I liked how your dialogue moved, it was sharp. I loved the dad's opening speech, but thought you might have ended at "regard," the rest seeming unneeded. "All of this he does without regard to her long term well-being – after all, he’s Man.
The father opens with a strong statement of how the world will be pillaged, raped, etc, and says that man does this without regard to any future well-being of the planet, but then dismisses these acts by saying..."after all, he's Man." The dad has a lot of rhetoric that he spouts, does he believe this rhetoric, or is he being ironic? I wasn't sure. He seemed to be in favour of Capitalism, yet bemoaned how one wouldn't want the government against one. I did read it a number of times, and it could be that I'm not getting it.
The mother calls her honeychile, which sounds Southern-Black to me, but then uses a word like toodles, was this deliberate? If she had said Honeychild, it would have seemed more consistent with the character, I felt.
FATHER
That’s just the way The Gods made you. I’ve got brown hair, your mother has blue eyes and you have brown skin - big whoop.
SON
You don’t think that’ll be a problem in the future?
FATHER
Don’t be ridiculous.
I loved how the next BIG question was..."why the hell am I brown?" Awesome. However, I would get rid of the "big whoop," it weakens the sentence. The next line I think would ring more if it was taking a shot at dad, or demanding something. "That's not a problem in the future, then?" Why does the dad dismiss the future problem of this, when he has clearly indicated he is sensitive to the "women" issue? Yes, perhaps he knows the son is not his, but I think he should squirm a little, perhaps.
SON
Crystals are beautiful!
FATHER
It’s drugs, Son.
Wouldn't it be "they're drugs?" A piddly ass point, I know.
I loved how the son asked to be called "Beautiful," and I must say, I loved the character of the son. I really enjoyed how the father and son reach such an easy reconciliation at the end, and the parting of ways becomes more of the lyrical adventure of your very fine play. Thank you.
Basso
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Will Kemp
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Posted: Thu Mar 13th, 2008 07:15 pm |
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Hi Vanessa,
I definitely don't want to get into politics either; however, I took the play to be a satire on politics. I was wondering if you consider it a satire?
Greta
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Proboscisbunny
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Posted: Fri Mar 14th, 2008 03:23 am |
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Well, that goes back to the other thread on style... Sure, if you want to call it satire. I dunno... Cracked-out satire with a bite of THC...maybe?
Can anyone advise?
Vanessa
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Edd
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Posted: Fri Mar 14th, 2008 03:29 am |
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I think some of the critiquing here has taken a fabulous, spontaneous, original, organic and entertaining piece and has critiqued it to death. Sometimes we just need to stop and accept a thing for what it is and resist the urge to shape it into our own image or academitize it into extinction. Really.
Edd
P.S. "Academitize" is a word now.
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Proboscisbunny
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Posted: Fri Mar 14th, 2008 03:32 am |
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Thanks, Edd!
You rocketh!
Vanessa
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Basso
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Posted: Fri Mar 14th, 2008 11:29 am |
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I guess there is a danger of something being critiqued into oblivion, and no doubt we all critique with our own peculiar biases, but obviously this piece is engaging enough that people are being moved by it, and then feeling the desire to speak about the experience. The playwright has the ability to pull it off the forum if no further critiquing is wanted. I DO get your point, Edd, and it is well taken, but there are oodles of plays that are posted here that get no comment at all. I'm supposing that is because the readers don't care for what they have read, and so don't wish to be negative, or else the play is of such a length that adequate time is not at hand. The nature of a forum is that people keep right on posting, and soon something that was once at the top gets quickly dropped to the bottom...no matter how good. Most people are not very good at going to the archived stuff, and so the library becomes filled with stuff that will never be looked at again.
Recently, I have been rereading "The Glass Menagerie," a play that surely ranks among the most critiqued plays in all of history. Does it lessen my enjoyment of it? Not at bit. Sometimes, the fact that something is overly critiqued is because it is just that good. Something terrible might be critiqued as such, but it has little shelf life. This little play amongst a plethora of other little plays has stood out, and it is for this reason that people want to respond. If it had been a piece of shit it would now be at the bottom of the forum, to be resurrected no more.
Take what is of value, chuck the rest and get on with another project...that's my mantra.
Basso
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Edd
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Posted: Fri Mar 14th, 2008 02:01 pm |
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My point may have been missed--it had nothing to do with the number of critiques.
Click on the link below that Paddy has provided regarding critiquing.
http://www.stageplays-forum.com/forum6/52.html
Last edited on Fri Mar 14th, 2008 02:22 pm by Edd
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Basso
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Posted: Fri Mar 14th, 2008 02:45 pm |
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My point may have been missed--it had nothing to do with the number of critiques.
Ah! :)
Basso
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Proboscisbunny
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Posted: Fri Mar 14th, 2008 08:39 pm |
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Thanks for the link, Edd!
I've gotten better a taking critique and knowing what, if anything, to do with it.
One man said about a one-act that I wrote "It's not Arthur Miller!"...Thank goodness, I thought. Why would I want to write like him, when I can write like me ;)
Vanessa
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Will Kemp
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Posted: Sat Mar 15th, 2008 07:50 pm |
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Edd et.al,
Paddy's posting of Henry's guidelines for dramaturgy was helpful.
Also, keep in mind that the play isn't supposed to work for you as a "reader". It is supposed to work for actors and audience.
Actors, bless their hearts, will try to do any play that you give them. Don't you just love actors?
As a playwright, I try never to forget the actors and audience. I want to write roles that actors want to perform for a live audience.
If a play pleases me and nobody else, I ought to trash it or put it in a drawer after multiple rejections, or stage it myself
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