An Afternoon of Words & Theater 6: Thomas Morel

STRANGE ENDINGS, by Thomas Morel
Staging by Frederic Delacour (who plays Jerry)

and Simon Chamoret-Devergne (The Angel)

CHARACTERS: Jerry Butler: a CEO in his fifties, tall and thin, with a little moustache. An angel: a messenger. tall and blond, wearing all white.

[Jerry Butler is almost ready to go to work, wearing a dark grey suit with a red tie. But he has a heart attack and he finds himself in a somewhat big white room with no door. Everything’s white, except for two black armchairs and a black TV screen. The room seems to have no walls, he is surrounded by a dazzling whiteness.]
Jerry Butler: What the hell is this place ? Where am I ? What happened ?

[Takes a few steps, stretches his hand out to reach a wall but finds nothing. Puts his hands quickly in his pockets out of fear. The angel comes from nowhere, behind Jerry, puts a hand on his shoulder which makes Jerry jump. The angel wears white trousers and a sky blue sweater. ]

The Angel: [With a sententious tone] Mortal flesh you were, dead you are. For now, it is time you followed me.

Jerry Butler: [incredulous] What ? No kidding ! Where I would follow you ? I won’t go anywhere with you ! There’s a meeting with my administrative board I have to attend to. The administrators, they rely on me. And I must be late by now. I can’t disappoint them ! Let me go !

The Angel: [softening his voice] I tell you, unfaithful, you are not to go anywhere without me. You don’t belong to this worldly place anymore. You are expected elsewhere; and you shall follow me.

Jerry Butler: I tell you, whoever you are ! I have business to do, factories to manage, shares to buy and sell. I work with administrators and financial institutions, I manage employees and factory workers. These worldly matters belong to me and I must attend to my responsibilities. Show me the way out and leave me alone.

The Angel: You shall understand that you are dead and that there is no more concern for you in the world …

Jerry Butler: I don’t give a shit about what you’re saying.

[Jerry’s face turns red out of anger, but the angel remains unflinching, his arms crossed]

Where is the way out ? Tell me or I’ll send my lawyer to deal with you!

The Angel: … You shall follow me, or you’ll be lost on the way.
Jerry Butler: What are you talking about? Don’t you see I’m still alive and healthy? I am still breathing, my heart’s still beating. Can’t you see that? Can’t you hear it? I tell you; I don’t know who you are but I won’t let you kidnap me and fool me like that.

[Jerry swings as hard as possible to take a punch at the angel, but his fist finds nothing and just goes through the head of the angel]

What the hell …

The Angel: You see? There is no way out, only a way forward. Your soul is giving you false impressions. You think you’re breathing, but there is no air; you think your heart’s beating but you had a severe heart attack. There is nothing for you to do, but follow me. If you still don’t believe me, please have a look.

[The TV screen is put on, Jerry looks at it and his eyes widen out of horror]

See, now? There’s nothing I can do for you, but show you the way forward. I’m just a messenger and a guide.

Jerry Butler: [falling on his knees and crying] I can’t believe it! Leave me alone!
The Angel: As you wish. You can call me later.

[He disappears. After a few long seconds, Jerry Butler stands up wearily and wanders around in the whiteness. He finally lets himself fall into one of the armchairs where he begins to speak to himself]

Jerry Butler: God, what am I going to do? Without me, everything will fall apart. There is nobody capable enough of taking over my position at the head of the companies. My administrators will fight for power and the group will collapse. Only I was strong enough to make all that coherent. And what about my family?

[He throws up his hands and shouts]

Oh God ! Who are you to let such a tragedy happen? Why have you allowed this to happen?

[He tries to calm down, sobbing]

What will my wife do on her own? She won’t be able to face anything without me. Who will accompany my daughter to the altar? She’s to be married in two weeks. And there’s still so much to do. The wedding is not ready yet. What about my sons? The elder is preparing for his final exams, he needs to feel safe and secure. The younger is not even five. How will he understand the loss of his father ?

[He starts crying with renewed intensity]

And who will take care of me, in this strange new world? Who will give me a helping hand? I can’t go alone into this scary place. Where are you, my friends?

[He finally lies down on the floor, like a foetus in his mother’s placenta]

The Angel: There, there. Come with me.
[He puts a hand on Jerry’s shoulder, helps him to get up and they go offstage]

--THE END--

An Afternoon of Words & Theatre 5: Christophe Cochet

One-act play, by Christophe COCHET
Staging by Caroline Apra and Jedd Betari
Extras : Soizic Bernard, Pascal Benchimol, and Guillaume Ruop

[A bar, it is late. A man, half-drunk, half-asleep, is sipping a last drink. A woman in her thirties is also standing at the bar, daydreaming in front of her drink]

Characters: THE WOMAN, THE MAN, THE BARMAN.
Men playing pool in background (Note: in the case of this performance, they were drinking and chatting in the background).

MAN: Didn’t find anyone tonight?

WOMAN: Sorry?

MAN: Yeah, girls like you generally find a bed for the night.

WOMAN: I am not sure I’m that kind of girl.

MAN: No need to argue, I’m not judging you. I’m happy not to be left alone for once.
[The woman scoots closer to the man.]

WOMAN: Let me tell you that I am not a prostitute. I’m not here waiting for a drunken man to pick me up, either. And I won’t allow a whisky-soaked loser to insult me.

MAN [to himself]: She’s got character!

WOMAN: I assume that you come here every night, tease hookers, and empty ten glasses an hour? You are getting a divorce from your wife who can’t stand your getting drunk. You have kids who don’t want to see you anymore. You lost your job some time ago, and that is how all this started.

MAN: Pretty close.

WOMAN: Now you hate the whole world, except the bitch who gives you pleasure once in a while.

MAN: Nice imagination. Had any bad experiences in a bar late at night recently?

WOMAN: Fuck off.

MAN: That’s what I thought.
[Silence between the two. You can hear men playing at a pool table.]

BARMAN: Want another one, Major?

WOMAN: No thanks, Larry. I think I’ll go.
[The woman grabs her purse.]

MAN: Major? You mean like in the army.

WOMAN: I thought I told you to fuck off.

MAN: You know, I was once in the army too. Not on the front of course, but I have seen some bad stuff.

WOMAN: I guess you didn’t have the balls to hold an M16.

MAN: You are the standing proof that it has nothing to do with balls.

WOMAN: You’re becoming smarter.

MAN: Or maybe I am just concealing my assets.

THE WOMAN: What’s the need? Who are you anyway?

MAN: So are you still in? In the army, I mean.

WOMAN: No. Well, yes. But not in the same unit.

MAN: You chose to leave, or were you asked to?

WOMAN: I left because I couldn’t take it anymore.

MAN: Where were you stationed?

WOMAN: Fallujah, Iraq.

MAN: You saw too many nasty things? You missed your family?

WOMAN: Yes and no.

MAN: That’s a concise answer.

WOMAN: I lost a complete platoon in a village ambush when I was responsible for the operation. And I lost my husband three years ago. No children.

MAN: And you think the best medicine is whisky?

WOMAN: No, vodka.

MAN: Character AND humor. Attractive.

WOMAN: I don’t know why I’m telling you about my life.

MAN: Because I asked you to.

BARMAN [to the men who were playing pool and are now leaving]: Good night. See you tomorrow.
[To the woman and man]: You’re the last ones, guys. It’s always you, Martin.

MAN: But I guess I’m not a bad customer, am I?
[The barman smiles and turns away.]

MAN: I’m not offering you a last drink.

WOMAN: No, thanks anyways.

MAN: Well, I think it’s gonna be time for bed.

WOMAN: Hey, wait a sec. You’re forgetting something.

MAN: What?

WOMAN: I told you about my life. I want to know about yours.

MAN: You’re sure you don’t want another drink?

WOMAN: Yes. So what do you do?

MAN: I’m a shrink.

WOMAN: Not bad. You’ve got your own office, or do you work in a hospital?

MAN: It depends.

WOMAN: If I am concise, you’re rather non-committal.

MAN: I said I was in the army. I was a psychiatrist there. I didn’t get to see the front but I met the guys who saw its horrors. I have never seen mutilated bodies lying in the dirt, but I have talked to many amputated GIs. And I can tell you that if they had had the balls to hold an M16, they didn’t have the mind to do so afterwards.

WOMAN: I understand.

MAN: I’m not sure you do, but let’s not get into a fight. I don’t think I would be on top.

WOMAN: I bet you wouldn’t.

MAN: However, I do know where I would be on top.

WOMAN: What do you mean?

MAN: Want to have sex?

[The end.]

An Afternoon of Words & Theatre 4: Qiu Gonghao

Dish Washer, by Qiu Gonghao

Staging by Agnés Fliscounakis and Hervé Desprets

This is a one act play with a husband and a wife, after dinner.

Husband: I’ve finished, darling.

Wife: What do you mean by that, Tom?

Husband: I mean, I’ve finished eating dinner, Jane.

Wife: And I should do the dishes. Is that what you mean?

Husband: I’d love to help, dear, but don’t forget that it’s Thursday night…

Wife: Right.

Husband: And I do the dishes only on weekends.

Wife: Listen, Tom. Our life needs a change.

Husband: A change? You do them 4 days a week and I’ll do them the other 3? Would that make you feel better?

Wife: No, a real change, Tom. A real one.

Husband: You do them on weekends and I’ll take the weekdays?!

Wife: No!

Husband: You’re challenging my authority in the family, Jane. It’s me who
makes the rules.

Wife: No darling, just a little change and there will be no tedious dish washing at all.

Husband: Are you asking me to take over the task of a woman?

Wife: No, darling, I am suggesting that we can by a dish washer, Tom. I’ve been asking you for one ever since the day we got married.

Husband: So you know the answer.

Wife: But I also want to know the reason.

Husband: Because it’s too expensive. We can’t afford it.

Wife: What! We can’t afford a dish washer which costs 300 bucks?

Husband: But it isn’t worth the price, Jane. You know those machines always do a bad job. We wash our dishes better then any dishwasher.

Wife: I am bored by the dreadful time spent washing dishes! It’s a waste of time!

Husband: Ok. So tell me, what will you do if you have 30 minutes of free time?

Wife: Talk with you.

Husband: Which means I will lose 30 minutes’ time of my own.

Wife: (Silence) That’s why you don’t want a dishwasher, Tom? You hate listening to me!

Husband: You said it, dear, not me.

Wife: Do you know how much time I have spent on this family? I make your breakfast, feed your dog, wash your dirty clothes, make the dinner and wash your gravy-covered dish, and you don’t have the least mercy for your pathetic wife?

Husband: Sounds bad eh?

Wife: What!

Husband: But think about me, Jane. It has been a luxury for me to have half an hour of my own after a hard day’s work. Am I asking too much?

Wife: Don’t you see I am comforting you and feel the pressure on you, and…

Husband: (shaking the wife’s shoulders) You are right, Jane. Our life needs a change.

Wife: A change? What kind of…? You mean, we’ll wash the dishes together from now on?

Husband: A real change, Jane. A real one.

Wife: Do you want to take over the washing?

Husband: No! Let’s make a deal. We will buy a dishwasher, and we will both have half an hour of free time, meaning that in that half hour you won’t try to bother me.

Wife: Bother you?

Husband: Or comfort me?

Wife: No way! That’s my answer, you selfish man! I’d rather do the dishes myself.

Husband: As you like, my dear.

Wife: But don’t forget tomorrow, Friday, it will be your turn to do them!

An Afternoon of Words & Theatre 3: Cédric Pasteur

Revenge of the Geek by Cedric Pasteur
Staging by Thomas Boulier (playing Michael)

and Youssef Benzakour (playing Sheldon, a.k.a. The Geek)

Cast of Characters : Sheldon, a geek.
Michael: A dumb student

Setting: In a dark dorm room. A laptop computer on one of the desks.

Time: Mid-afternoon.
[Sheldon is wearing a hoodie. Michael is dressed like a rapper with a big gold chain around his neck. Sheldon is working on his computer. The public can’t see the screen, just his hands typing in frenetic bursts on the keyboard. Michael enters the room. ]

Michael: Hey dude. My name’s Michael, I’m your new roommate. [Michael moves his hands towards Sheldon but he doesn’t seem to react. Shel­don keeps looking at the screen.]

Sheldon: Hi. Please excuse me if I don’t get up to welcome you but I am in the middle of something very important.

Michael: Don’t sweat it, dude. I wasn’t expecting any welcoming party. [Michael starts looking around.]

Sheldon: I am configuring my computer so I can access it remotely from any computer in the labs or from my computer back home. I have setup secured tunnels with SSH through the University proxy. This is actually very easy, so I created an IRC bot that could automatically set up the connection and environmental variables. In order to communicate efficiently between the bot and the main script, I used a socket...

Michael: Suck what ?

[Sheldon shakes his head.]

Sheldon: A socket. It is a special file used by Unix systems to communicate between programs on the same computer. Basically, it’s just a FIFO pipe.

[Michael freezes for a second. His face shows his concentration. ]

Michael: My big brother would love to talk with you. He knows all about pipes. He’s a plumber.

Sheldon: [Mumbling] This has nothing to do with... [Louder] As I said before, I don’t have time for small talk right now.

Michael: No problem, man. You won’t even notice I’m here. [Michael continues to check out the room. He sees the plasma lamp on the desk and plays with it.]

Michael: Awesome dude, you’ve got one of these cool lightning lamps.

Sheldon: [Still staring at the laptop’s screen] Please be careful. This thing is very fragile. For your information, it is called a plasma lamp, or an Inert Gas Discharge Tube, as its inventor, Nikola Tesla, first called it. What you see is the result of the ionization of an inert gas under low pressure thanks to the high frequency and high voltage current between the inner electrode and the outer glass that acts like an insulator.

Michael: [With his palm on the lamp] Look. I’m like that guy from Star Wars with lightning bolts coming from his hand.

Sheldon: That guy, as you call him, is the Emperor a.k.a. Darth Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith a.k.a. Senator Palpatine from Naboo when he started plotting against the Republic. Did you know that it's the same actor, Ian McDiarmid, who portrays the Emperor in Episode VI back in 1983 and Palpatine in the prequel trilogy?

Michael: Woah. That’s an amazing story. You must have picked up so many chicks with it. [Michael laughs out loud. Sheldon waits a few seconds before answering.]

Sheldon: Wait. [Looks closely at the screen] I think you should see this.

Michael: [excited] What? What is it?

Sheldon: [With the same serious tone.] I just received an email for you. It’s Mister T. He wants his jewelry back.

Michael: Well, I got a message for you, It’s ... [Freezes for a few seconds trying to find something clever to say] It’s McGyver and... and he says you’re a nerd.

Michael: That doesn’t make any sense.

Michael: [Pointing at Sheldon’s face] Neither does your face.

Sheldon: Let me google it. [Types on his keyboard] I was right. It’s exactly what I thought. The Wikipedia page says that your joke stopped being funny in 1998.

Michael: [Gets really angry] Stop messing with me. You think you’re better than me just because you know all these useless things.

[Michael takes his jacket ff and does some push-ups]

Michael: [Doing some boxer moves] Come here, wuss. We’ll see who’s the bigger man.
[Sheldon slowly closes his laptop, takes of his hoodie off to reveal his suprisingly strong arms and stands up. He is twenty centimeters taller than Michael.]

Sheldon: [With a very intimitading expression.] Who’s the bigger man now?

Michael: [Putting his arm on Sheldon’s shoulder] Come on, bro. You know I was kid­ding.

[Sheldon grasps Michael’s arm and takes it off his shoulder, then stares at Michael for a few seconds. He starts moving his arm and Michael flees]

THE END.

Final Photos: The Creative Writing Class at Polytechnique, promo 2006, with Cédric at center and the lamp from his play.

An Afternoon of Words and Theatre 2: William Matthew Yon

VERSAILLES-STYLE PIMPING
By Matthew Yon

GREGOIRE
Poly-technicien, age 22, wearing a suit.
MARIE-CHANTAL
Judge, in her early 50s. wearing an evening gown that could look a little worn out.
WAITER
Waiter, French palace style, snub, wearing a black suit with a white shirt and bow tie. His head is always looking upwards, and his neck is stretched, giving the impression that he scorns everyone. He should interact with the audience: whenever they laugh he puffs in disdain, turns his head and walks away and then slowly comes back. He has an extremely strong French accent.

[The scene takes place during a wedding dinner. In the centre of the stage is one table laid with fine crockery, prepared to sit ten. The table is oval or rectangular shaped, its broad side facing the audience. Four chairs are placed on each side, and one on each end. A sound device should simulate background conversation, noise and music, suggesting the large number of invitees, and the overall luxury of the ceremony.]

[Marie-Chantal, wearing an appropriate, is already seated on a central chair facing the audience.]

ENTERS – Grégoire, coming ondstage from the left, taking slow steps backwards

GREGOIRE : [Addressing someone off stage, left.] …pleasure was all mine, duchess. Enjoy the diner, or as we say in France, Bon Appétit! [He comes towards the table.]

ENTERS – Waiter, right.

[The waiter strolls around the table, going from chair to chair, pulling them back and forth as if to seat someone. During the process, Grégoire sees MARIE-CHANTAL and walks to her, intending to say hello and to introduce himself formally. He stands before her, and she sees that, but does not stand up as he seems to have expected.]

GREGOIRE : Evening, Madame. [He bows his head] It appears we shall be neighbours for dinner.

MARIE-CHANTAL : [Coldly] Good evening, young man. [Bluntly] May I ask who you are?

GREGOIRE : I’m Grégoire Lamartin, a friend of the bride.

[The waiter has finished seating everyone, and now begins serving the starters]

MARIE-CHANTAL : Oh, I see! [Fatuously] You’ll excuse my enquiry, but you see, I’m a judge, and I tend to be faced with the real world a little too often. Recently I’ve read many governmental reports about fine-looking young men who crash wedding parties merely for the food and inebriated young ladies. I feel reassured to see that I won’t have to sentence my dinner neighbour!

GREGOIRE : [Seating himself next to her] I see, Madame, no offence taken. I guess that being suspicious comes with the territory [mockingly] when one exercises such an honourable profession.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Indeed, in fact that’s hardly flattery at all… You have no idea! [Cooler]And you forgot to ask my name, by the way. I’m Marie-CHANTAL Dawner.

GREGOIRE : Well, Madam Dawner, it’s a pleasure to …

[She sees someone more interesting on her left side, and starts talking to him]

MARIE-CHANTAL : Good evening Mr Cox. Enjoying the evening?

GREGOIRE : [To no one in particular/himself] Never mind…

WAITER : [Coughs loudly, followed by silence] Mesdames et messieurs, Noix de Saint-Jacques piquées de pétales de courgettes et gingembre rose, dans un bouillon parfumé. For translation, please learn to speak French!

[He comes to the right edge of the stage, facing the audience. The background noise starts again, but adding knives and forks sounds. Characters eat when not talking.]

GREGOIRE : [Speaking towards the chairs on his side of the table] So, have you managed to talk to the groom, Mr 4? … Oh yes indeed, he is a fine speaker. That’s hardly surprising given that the boy went to the best law school in the world.

MARIE-CHANTAL : [Loudly] A delightful wedding indeed! My dear Albert would have loved that, I mean, he would have loved meeting everyone in such a charming place! [Mildly] Of course, I do not mean that he would have supported this foolish choice of a groom. I just cannot understand how respectable parents can sometimes be so weak…

GREGOIRE : His hobbies? Well, you’re asking a little too much, Mr 2. In fact I hardly know him. All I can say is that he has made a great first impression. Yet, now you’re asking me, he may have said something about sailors’ knots…

MARIE-CHANTAL : I mean, Mr C, I have never thought of them as prodigies in terms of parenthood, but then again… surrendering so willingly to that young lady’s fantasies. I just don’t understand. [Lower] I mean, a young girl may like chocolate very much, but it’s up to her mother to make her understand that vanilla is just as fine, and far more suitable for an old family heiress. I mean, it’s not like this one will run for president.

GREGOIRE : [astounded by what he hears next to him,Gregoire speaks a little louder but chooses not to interrupt] Well, from what I heard, they studied together at Harvard, but it really was this first internship that brought them together.

MARIE-CHANTAL : No, definitely not. I, as a mother, would never let my daughter rush into a marriage with an unknown person that could just as well turn her life –and my reputation– into a hell. First of all, a good union is the result of proper acquaintances. Then it requires the parents’ proficiency in match-making in order to select the right boy. I have always deemed that the only way to meet someone is either through the parents’ enlightened guidance, or during debutante balls.

GREGOIRE : Sorry Mr 3, I didn’t quite hear you… Oh, music? Well, I really think he’s fond of music, for when we talked, he mentioned he had a membership card to the Opera.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Anyway, let’s change the subject. Human mistakes are a subject that, alas, troubles me far too often. I’m a , you see… So, where did you go on your holidays, Mr B? I heard the wildest speculations about your going to a cold place in August! [She listens] Oh… You went to ski in New Zealand! [laughs] Wild indeed.

GREGOIRE : Yes, I went to see Fantasio last week. Brilliant performance in my opinion, not that I am any expert in theatre! Have you seen it? No? Oh, you really should. And you could take your grandson there, introduce him to a classic.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Last time I went skiing it was with, sniff, my dear Albert. But the place was overcrowded with those young scoundrels who skim over the snow like crabs. I don’t want to emit a judgement when I’m not on duty, but once again, I blame the parents. Responsible parents should force their offspring to go straight! I mean, it does not take a genius to see there’s something wrong with these snowboards. Nature wants people to go straight [pause] forward.

WAITER [answering his phone] Someone’s en retard you say? I would say terribly en retard! In fact, all the seats are taken, we are complet! What? No Monsieur, this is the excellence of French cuisine, we don’t squeeze our guests together to add a seat! What did you say? That we always do that in France? Monsieur, cela suffit! [hangs up]

MARIE-CHANTAL : [Turning to Gregoire] My dear Gordon…

GREGOIRE : Gregoire, ma’am.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Gregoire, sorry. My dear Gregoire, do you know how to ski?

GREGOIRE : I was raised in the Alps, so yes, I ski fairly well. Yet I haven’t…

MARIE-CHANTAL : … And you must think, like the rest of us, that snowboards shouldn’t be allowed on the slopes, right? They merely deserve to be sunk into a swamp.

GREGOIRE : Well…

MARIE-CHANTAL : You’re absolutely right. So, tell me please, since you seem to speak decently, I suppose you’re still a student? So tell me, how are your studies going?

GREGOIRE : [struggles to keep his composure ] Hum… You said? Oh, my studies are going on well.

MARIE-CHANTAL : You’re at, how do they call it again? BAC, yes, thank you Mr B. So you’re at BAC plus…? How old are you, by the way?

GREGOIRE : plus 5, and I’m 22.

MARIE-CHANTAL : [mildly interested] so you’re ambitious, you’re into advanced education, the long haul. Makes me remember my own…

GREGOIRE : Indeed, it’s starting to feel a little long, but it’s ok as I can still manage to find a little time to write! And Paris,… Hemingway was right, having the chance to live in Paris as a young man is an experience that’ll probably stay with me all my life.

MARIE-CHANTAL : And where are you studying?

GREGOIRE : In Paris.

MARIE-CHANTAL : In Paris. Must be expensive for your parents, isn’t it?

GREGOIRE : Actually, I’m paid.

MARIE-CHANTAL : By whom?

GREGOIRE : The French Army.

MARIE-CHANTAL : A student-soldier. Well, that’s peculiar. So tell me, you said you liked to write. Are you studying literature? A poet soldier [chuckles then grows serious, raising a finger] Let me tell you, that from the number of drunk wannabe-playwrights that I’ve sentenced, this domain seems to be quite a slippery slope. Especially for those who go down that slope on a snowboard! [She laughs alone. Waiter coughs twice, annoyed by the sound.]

GREGOIRE : Well, no. Actually, I’m more into science.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Science, you say? Are you an ambitious young man trying to become a doctor?

GREGOIRE : No. I’m…

MARIE-CHANTAL : Right, I didn’t suppose so, either. But it’s ok, you know. As long as eventually the two ends meet.

GREGOIRE : [annoyed] actually, my mother, who’s a doctor, deterred me from that job. She said the pay didn’t meet the effort, unless you had a heart of stone. So…

MARIE-CHANTAL : … you’re in a law school! There’s so much I could teach you then!

GREGOIRE : I’m at the Ecole Polytechnique.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Oh… [looks ashamed for an instant] Well… congratulations! [pause] Would you perhaps know… errr… What’s his name again?

GREGOIRE : [despairingly] tell me.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Marc Duchêne, no… Yes that’s it, Marc Duchateau! He was the son of our neighbours back when we, me and my dear Albert, lived in Lyon. I heard he managed to pass the entrance quiz.

GREGOIRE : It’s not really a quiz…

MARIE-CHANTAL : Anyway his parents must have felt quite relieved, for one would never have deemed him good for anything. I remember the first time I met him. He was 4 and carved his cake into geometric shapes when he ate. I always thought his mind never landed on earth. So would you be so lucky as to know the little brat?

GREGOIRE : No ma’am. He’s definitely not in my year, but would you happen to know the year he got in? Or his age?

MARIE-CHANTAL : Oh yes, he got in 6 years ago.

GREGOIRE : Then I could hardly know…

MARIE-CHANTAL : … and there’s also my brother-in-law’s cousin. She had a daughter who must be 27 by now.

GREGOIRE : Again, ma’am, it’s pretty unlikely that I would know her.

MARIE-CHANTAL : [not listening] She married another X. That’s how you call each other right? I heard figures that said over 80% of your female peers end up married with other students from the school.

GREGOIRE : Actually, those figures were global, and indicated that nowadays, young people who pursue college degrees tend to meet their soul mates at university; as is illustrated by tonight’s happy Harvard couple.

MARIE-CHANTAL : They both went to Harvard?

GREGOIRE : My guess is that would be the reason for all the Harvard flags around us [signals with a wave of his hand the flags which the audience can suppose therefore are draped above and behind them along the walls].

WAITER : [answers his phone again] Mr 5 is coming after all? He’s a cousin of the bride? Oh… Well, sir, I guess he should come. My mistake. Still, all the seats are taken. Yes, right. I’ll check the listing and then call you right back.

Exit WAITER.

MARIE-CHANTAL : I also heard the girls in your school were not, how should I put this… Very feminine. Would you agree with this?

GREGOIRE : I beg to differ.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Oh… has Mr X fallen for an X-branded girl?

GREGOIRE [laughs] No, no. Most surely not.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Well, I happen to have a daughter, slightly younger than you. A smart girl, she’s in her first year of sociology studies at the Ecole Supérieure de Versailles! [To her side of the table] Yes, we have moved to Versailles. I really appreciate the place. It’s so full of respectable people, a little piece of heaven on earth, attached to fundamental values. [She smiles as if dreaming and turns back to Gregoire] My daughter’s young, but already looks as good as me when I was 20! Take a look, I have a picture here. [takes out a picture from her handbag] Well, that one’s a picture of me when I was 20, but here’s another one, of her. [takes out a second photo] Isn’t she gorgeous?

GREGOIRE : [embarrassed] As fine a complexion as her mother’s indeed.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Would you want to meet her? I mean, you wouldn’t be signing up for anything, it wouldn’t be an engagement… though it could eventually become one, of course!

GREGOIRE : That’s, is really,… err… generous! But I have to decline. I’m sorry.

WAITER enters with a sheet of paper, checking the invitees to find the intruder.

MARIE-CHANTAL : So there’s someone after all. No problem, my good boy. Still, would you have any friends, perhaps acquaintances, who are desperately single, even if they look as bad as the average engineer… just let me know! [she winks at him]

GREGOIRE : I’ll see to it. I’m sure your daughter could fulfil a lonely X’s heart.

WAITER : Madame, could you remind me of your name, please?

MARIE-CHANTAL : Surely my dear lad, I’m Marie-CHANTAL Dawner.

WAITER : bends and whispers in her ear. She suddenly looks terribly pale.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Well, it appears duty is calling me again, and I will have to leave your pleasant company. [She stands up] My dear Grégoire, [he stands up] I recall your school is holding a debutante ball soon… at the Opera.

GREGOIRE : yes, that would be the Bal de l’X.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Please, try to have my Lily invited, and I’ll make arrangement so that you’ll get an opportunity to teach her how to ski during the next winter holidays.

WAITER : coughs loudly, impatient.

GREGOIRE : I assure you I’ll do my best to pim(p)… err… to put your daughter into the most righteous hands. Still, I would make a poor ski instructor, as I’m really into snowboarding.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Oh… I see! Well… if it comes to that, I’ve always suspected my elder son of being curious about snowboarding…

WAITER : [losing patience] Madame! This is not a brothel, and the actual invitee will be here soon!

MARIE-CHANTAL : [embarrassed] He means… I found someone to replace me in order to keep you entertained!

GREGOIRE : I know, that would be the bride’s cousin.

MARIE-CHANTAL : You know each other?

GREGOIRE : He and I are well, kind of acquainted, yes.

MARIE-CHANTAL : Good night, and keep me posted!

GREGOIRE : Farewell!

Exit, MARIE-CHANTAL and WAITER

An Afternoon of Words & Theatre 1: Rémi Ferrier

Untitled Play, by Rémi Ferrier

staged by Stéphanie Gantois and Cyril Becquart (pictured by red bar)
with extras : Agnés Fliscounakis & Hervé Desprets (pictured at tall table)

At the Bôbar : the bobarman and a serious student.
The bobarman : not well dressed, his hair uncombed.
The serious student : very clean with freshly combed hair, glasses and a shirt under his pullover.

The bobarman is cleaning behind the bar. The serious student enters and waits at the bar but the bobarman continues to clean and walk back and forth behind the bar. The serious student gestures to the bobarman.

Bobarman : I’m sorry, there is no water here

Student : [ surprised ] What ?

Bobarman : [Picks up and drinks from his beer] I said we don’t serve water today. I’m sorry but you should try the lady’s !!

Student : What’s happened ?

Bobarman : You’ve never heard of water shortages in Africa ? We have decided to support their cause and to stop serving water in this bar. In this way we’re helping little Africans to get water from their Rain God.

Student : Is this a joke or something ?

Bobarman : No, no, I’m being very serious, I read it in the I.K. last week.

Student : [smiling and shaking his head] This is the worst theory I’ve ever heard. I don’t even want to argue with you. Can I have a glass of water please?

Bobarman : I told you, it’s impossible.

Student : I promise I will send one bottle to the poor children starving in Africa as soon as I get back home, isn’t that enough ?

Bobarman : That is very kind of you, and I’m certain that if every student here had such noble intentions the world would be a better place.

Student : Now, can you give me some water please ?

Bobarman : I’m afraid you haven’t understood me quite right. We have cut the water, so it’s impossible.

Student : What? It’s far for me to judge the idea that you are a stupid alcoholic and a desperate fellow, but what the hell happened in your empty mind of an idiot? Did you think for even one second?

Bobarman : [Sips his beer, bent over the bar] of what ?

Student : Simple question : how do you wash things without water ??

Bobarman : simple answer : we don’t wash them, we have enough plastic cups to serve people until 2020.

Student : What happens if somebody wants something other than a beer?

Bobarman : Oh, we have plenty of juice, and we have one bottle of mineral water. You know, in case of emergency.

Student : [looking desperately at the bobarman] But – no – but – you can’t do that, can you?

Bobarman : I don’t see what the problem with this is, you know, in Germany beer is cheaper than water. I’ve even heard that when you buy a house now they ask you if you want running water or beer running out of the tap. – oh, we should do that ! – put a cistern of beer under the bob and have it directly from the spigot, on tap, what a good idea ! beer in your sink, the world at your feet !

Student : [to the public] How did he get into this school ? Either the exam he took was about a beer under pressure in a bottle, or the examiner was more drunk than he is.
[to the bobarman] But tell me one thing, Imagine you get sick – let’s say, for example – this is just an hypothesis of course – let’s say you have a huge hangover, like the one you get after drinking the whole night and you don’t remember how you got back home – this is just an example of course – then you want to drink water here, what do you do ?

Bobarman : [very naturally] The best remedy for a hangover as far as I know is to drink a beer straight after getting up! [He takes a drink of his beer, as if for emphasis]

Student : You are such an alcoholic, I can’t understand why they let you put yourself in such a state and don’t kick your ass out of this bar.

Bobarman : Me, an alcoholic ? No way !! The characteristic of an alcoholic is that he cannot stop drinking. As for me, I can stop drinking alcohol from now on and you won’t even notice the difference.

Student : Then why don’t you?

Bobarman : Because I don’t want to.

Student : Then I say you can’t !!

Bobarman : Look, I’ve been quite polite up until now, but if you are going to start insulting me and treating me like a fucking drunkard I won’t be so nice.

Student : Easy, easy, I’m trying to help you here. I’m just saying, if you want to keep your place in this school, you know, keep studying, perhaps you had better stop drinking and go to class.

Bobarman : [smiling] Well, until now things have not gone so badly, I’m not worried about my future.

Student : What do you mean ?

Bobarman : I’m just saying beer gives you a different approach to the exams, and my method has been quite successful so far.

Student : [astonished] Really?? Like what? You have nothing to retake, nothing to still pass, so you’re saying you’re a genius?

Bobarman : Be cool mister I-work-hard-every-night-to-get-good-marks, the fact is the corps, the mines, must have found something in my way of thinking that they find interesting.

Student : [quite lost, doesn’t believe it] You mean, that you – I mean such an alcoholic as you are – your never going to class is between the 20 first students ??

Bobarman : God bless you.
[to the public] Freshmen are so naïve nowadays.

Student : Ok, forget this stupid story about water, just give me a beer.

Bobarman: [handing him a plastic pint] Here you are, a passport to party; no coming back.

TV Programme

My girlfriend watched a documentory about animals at 2 a.m. I told her I was sleepy and we should sleep. She said I was a lion and she was a monkey. I was always sleeping while she needed activity. I answered she was tired too and should sleep. She stood up, took her clothes, opened the door. I asked what she was doing. She calmly said she was going cause I was a lion and she couldn't live with a lion. I bumped out of the bed and stayed in front of the door, asking her to reconsider her analogy. She smiled, pushed me, and we had some activity.