Walsh - Penelope

Enda Walsh

PENELOPE

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Penelope was first performed at the Druid Lane Theatre, Galway, on 8 July 2010, as part of Galway Arts Festival, with the following cast:

Characters

BURNS, mid-thirties

QUINN, mid-forties

DUNNE, about fifty

FITZ, mid-sixties

and PENELOPE, twenties

After a little time we realise that were looking at a dilapidated swimming pool drained of water. There are two ladders at the back of the pool where the actors enter.

At the back and above the swimming pool we can see a large sliding glass door that leads into a villa. Theres a scrim which allows us to see inside, when appropriate.

The pools been turned into a living space and it seems to have operated as such for years.

There are five battered pool loungers of different makes and sizes (some inflatable), a miniature snooker table, a trestle table stacked with beer, wine, spirits and snacks. Theres a portable CD stereo. Theres also a large helium-filled heart-shaped balloon bobbing above the table. Under the table theres a mass of junk.

Theres a standing screen, at the back in the corner, large enough for someone to change behind it unseen.

Theres a large gleaming Taunton Deluxe Barbecue raised on a wooden pallet in the very centre of the pool.

Most importantly theres a CCTV camera in the pool looking down at the men.

When the lights come up we have time to take all this in as the two men on stage are very still. We could be looking at a picture.

One of the men is standing beside one of the ladders holding a sponge full of pink suds. Hes been cleaning a long streak of blood off the tiled wall by the ladder and stands there staring at the drips coming down the wall.

This is BURNS.

A man in his mid-thirties, he wears a short Terrycloth swimming-pool robe, scruffy trainers and battered spectacles. He looks strong and able but carries himself subserviently.

The other man is standing looking intensely at the Taunton Deluxe Barbecue.

This is QUINN.

Hes a powerfully built, mid-forties man. His dyed black hair perfectly set, hes immediately a man of some vanity. Hes wearing tight red Speedos and a pair of smart brown moccasins.

The stillness is broken when QUINN quickly walks to the barbecue. BURNS turns to look at him.

QUINN reaches out his hand and holds it above the grill to test its temperature. As usual its cold. Theres an uncooked sausage on the grill. He picks it up and looks at it. He drops it back down.

He walks quickly back to the trestle table, stops and throws a look at BURNS.

BURNS hesitates. He was about to say something but decides not to. QUINN wants to hear it.

QUINN. What do you have to say? (Slight pause.) What is it?

A pause. BURNS gathers the courage.

BURNS. I need to talk about Murray.

QUINN puts on the stereo and Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass play Spanish Flea.

QUINN finds a blowtorch amongst the snacks. He turns back and looks at the defunct barbecue like he means business. The blowtorch fires in his hand. He walks back over to the barbecue and begins blasting the sausage. Hes cooking it for breakfast.

BURNS drops the sponge into his metal bucket. He cant get rid of the last of the blood on the wall. He returns the bucket to under the trestle table. He starts to look for something on top of the table. He finds it and puts it on. Its a cardboard cone-shaped party hat that elasticates under his chin.

At the same time two other men appear and climb down thetwo ladders at the back. Theyre also dressed in Terrycloth swimming-pool robes.

As they turn to us we see DUNNE.

A man of about fifty. He carries himself like an old theatrical troubadour (in flip-flops). He goes straight to the table to fix himself a cocktail, ignoring BURNS completely. He dances a little to the music for his own entertainment. He can move.

The other man is FITZ.

A trim and fidgety mid-sixties man. He carefully organises his pool lounger and towel. Everything has to be in its place. Hes brought an old book to read and takes real care that his bookmark is doing its job. He has a small container of tablets. He empties the contents out. Theres only three tablets in there. That will do. He throws them into his mouth and knocks back a bottle of tomato juice. He blesses himself. That was the wrong direction. He tries it again and again but has forgotten how to bless himself. He gives up. His manners a little fey.

DUNNE meanwhile has fixed his cocktail. Its a very flamboyant margarita topped with fruit and tiny paper umbrellas. He walks over to watch QUINN pulverising the sausage.

BURNS remains at the table where hes placed various snacks into various bowls. He acts as a reluctant servant throughout.

FITZ acknowledges him with a little nod. FITZ turns and looks at the blood on the wall. BURNS does the same.

The two men then look over at QUINN.

QUINN turns off the blowtorch and hands it to DUNNE.

He reaches into the barbecue and grabs the sausage but burns his hand.

QUINN. Shit!

BURNS doesnt have to be asked. He comes to the barbecue, grabs the ferociously hot sausage and starts to blow on it for

QUINN.

A perfect temperature now and QUINN finally takes the sausage in his hand as Spanish Flea comes to an end.

The men speak with considerable erudition. They may be of different classes (QUINN is certainly a rougher diamond) but they all like the sound of their own voice. Their accents are provincial (each one from a different area of the country) though sound soft as these are men of distinction.

QUINN bites into the sausage.

DUNNE. How is it?

A pause as QUINN carefully chooses his word.

QUINN. Sausagey.

DUNNE. Thats good.

FITZ (to DUNNE). Most are often not. Some are. Some have got a sausageness but more often than not they taste of nothing but heat.

DUNNE. And heat isnt even a taste.

FITZ. Isnt it?

DUNNE. People would say that heat was a sensation, you know generally

QUINN. As a rule.

DUNNE. As you say, Quinn as a rule the word having its meanings having its related characteristics, Fitz. What does heat have? Taste is not the first thing that springs to mind.

QUINN. This tastes hot. I would say that before I would say this tastes of sausage.

DUNNE. But I said, How is it? and you said, Sausagey. Why didnt you say that it tastes hot if hot was your first sensation?

QUINN. Hot was my first sensation but I said sausagey out of badness.

DUNNE. Right.

QUINN. This is the very last sausage, men, and I wanted you all to know that its a superior sausage. Not some dust-filled, cigar-shaped, hunk of pigshit but an actual sausage! The sausage of our youth. Had I just said, This is a hot sausage well, that has negative connotations