Eno - Middletown: a Play

BOOKS BY WILL ENO

AVAILABLE FROM TCG

The Flu Season and Other Plays

Middletown

Thom Pain (based on nothing)

a play

Will Eno

THEATRE COMMUNICATIONS GROUP
NEW YORK
2010

Middletown is copyright 2010 by Will Eno

Middletown is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc.,

520 Eighth Avenue, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10018-4156

All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that this material, being fully protected under the Copyright Laws of the United States of America and all other countries of the Berne and Universal Copyright Conventions, is subject to a royalty. Caution: All rights whatsoever for this work are strictly reserved. Application for permission for any use whatsoever, including performance rights, must be made in writing, in advance, prior to such proposed use, to SUBIAS, One Union Square West, No. 913, New York, NY 10003, Attn: Mark Subias, or via email to . No performance may be given unless a license has first been obtained.

Published under license from Oberon Books Ltd., 521 Caledonian Road, London N7 9RH.

This publication is made possible in part with public funds from the New York State Council on the Arts, a State Agency.

TCG books are exclusively distributed to the book trade by Consortium Book Sales and Distribution.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Eno, Will, 1965

Middletown : a play / Will Eno.1st ed.

p. cm.

eISBN 978-1-55936-765-3

1. City and town lifeDrama. I. Title.

PS3555.N652M53 2010

812.54dc22 2010035646

Book design and composition by Lisa Govan

Cover design by Mark Melnick

Front cover photographs: (top) The Granger Collection, NYC /

(bottom) Byron Barrett; back cover photograph: courtesy of the author

First Edition, November 2010

TO GORDON,

MARK,

AND CECILE.

In death, Alexander of Macedons end differed not a whit from his stable-boys. Either both were received into the same generative principle of the universe, or both alike were dispersed into atoms.

MARCUS AURELIUS, MEDITATIONS

There are two theories on hitting the knuckleball. Unfortunately, neither one of them works.

CHARLEY LAU, BATTING COACH

We are born what we are, and if that was not lucky, we can make it worse with our thoughts. What the giant or dwarf thinks of, when he sees his reflection in the shopwindows while pretending to study the new spring styles, is a force in his life. A human being is not simply cells. There is a mind attached. This may often wish it had been born a tree.

GUSTAV ECKSTEIN

Mrs. Smith goes outside and screams, Its the same outside as inside!

GORDON LISH, EXTRAVAGANZA

Walter came by, this evening. We watched the new filly trying to stand in the twilight, with her legs so long and weak and funny. I told Walter my honest feelings about Europe and he did a magic trick. I hope my arm gets better. Lucy said, Dont you find Walter very thin? I said I liked him and it was nothing food could not cure. Tomorrow we hope for sunny weather. A French Horn expert is coming for a Presentation, and to have it outdoors in Great Field would be among other things an experience.

VIOLA KENNEBECK, DIARY, 1909

PUBLIC SPEAKER: Ladies and Gentlemen, Esteemed Colleagues, Members of the Board, Middletonians, Local Dignitaries, everyone really, stockbrokers, dockworkers, celebrities, nobodies, Ladies, Gentlemen, all comers, newcomers, the newly departed, the poorly depicted, people who are still teething, who are looking for a helping verb, the quote beautiful, the unquote unbeautiful, whose bones are just so, whose veins are just so, the drunk, the high, the blue, the down, los pueblos, los animales, foreigners, strangers, bookworms, those whose eyes are tired from trying to read something into everything, those at a crossroads, in a crisis, a quandary, a velvety chair, the dirty, the hungry, yes, we the cranky, the thirsty, the furious, the happy, who are filled with life, bloated with it, gorged on words, and of course the bereaved, the bereft, and lets not forget the local merchants, the smiling faces, the placeholders, us, all we people slowly graying, slowly leaving, who make all this all possible, this activity, this festivity, this hope, this dream dreamt with open eyes, friends of the deceased, the diseased, friends of the disowned, and of course also healthy friendly people with great skin and congenital heart defects, sports fans, sufferers of autism, down-and-outers, nonbelievers, animal lovers everywhere, real people people, with doubts, without certainty, with nothing else worth mentioning, the majority of us, silent, stifled, delinquent, in the background, barely hanging on, running out of time, hope, air, heart, nerves, chances, money, blood, friends, courage, faith, hair, time, teeth, time, time, health, hope, all of it, all of it, those sans everything, those avec nothing, who cant stand it any longer, who never really could, gentle gentle people, infinitely injured people, lost souls, ghouls, ghosts, descendants, shades, shadows, future ancestors, Ladies, Gentlemen, I know Im forgetting somebody, friends, likenesses, darknesses, citizens, people, hopeful people, hopeful people, everybody, every last lone dying and inconsolably lonely person, fellow human beings, breathing people, breathers, breathers... welcome. The fire exits over there. I think you can also get out this way.

Average evening. Middletown. Cop enters and strolls across the dimly lit stage. He comes to the window of a house, upstage. Through it, illuminated, Mrs. Swanson is seen unpacking boxes, hanging a painting on the wall, etc. Cop stands outside, looking in. He strolls a bit more, comes to another window of another house, upstage. Inside, John Dodge, illuminated, is seen sitting at a table, building a pyramid of playing cards. Cop stands outside, looking in. He strolls a little more, twirling his police baton. He approaches Mechanic, who is sitting on a bench, downstage, drinking out of a bottle in a paper bag. Mechanic eats something and throws the wrapper on the ground as Cop nears. Mechanic hurriedly hides the paper bag upon seeing Cop.

MECHANIC: Evening.

COP: Maybe. (Referring to the bottle) I saw that. You think Im a cop. I look like a cop, I walk like a cop, so, you figure, case closed: Im a cop.

MECHANIC: Youre not a cop?

COP: No, I am a cop. You were right.

MECHANIC: Well, thats what I

COP (Interrupting): Thats what you thought. Everything is as everything seems, I guess. Good for everything. What about you?

MECHANIC: What do you mean?

COP: What about you?

MECHANIC: I dont know. I mean, who knows, you know?

COP: No. What are you doing here?

MECHANIC: I was just walking around. Later tonight, I thought I might

COP (Interrupting): Forget about before and after. I mean now.