One Man Show

The One Man Show

A tale of fiction

By

Edward Hamilton

    "Ladieees and Gentleman. I am proud to bring to you..."

    "Wait! Cut!" The voice came from the darkness in the auditorium. It was rich and confident. A deep baritone. He sounded like the announcer from masterpiece theatre.

    Phil stood center stage. The house lights were down so he couldn't see the audience. He wore a basic brown suit, white button up shirt and suspenders that his grandpa gave him. His hair was cut high and tight but was hidden by his slightly tilted brown fedora. He gnawed his fingernails. Every time he was nervous he took it out on his nails.

    "Let us try "it is my pleasure to present to you", it sounds more sophisticated." The baritone boomed from the dark auditorium seating.

    "Yes Walter. I agree." Phil answered. The stage went dark and a spotlight came down directly on Phil.

    "Ladies and Gentleman. It is my pleasure to present to youuuu..." He raised his arms as he strung out the last word. His voice filled the auditorium. "The Phil Brotowski shoooowwww." He imagined all the seats full. The crowd started clapping and cheering. Some stood in ovation. "Thank you. Thank you. Assisting me tonight as always is Segmund." The spotlight slit in two, one stayed on Phil, the other illuminated a small, squat, dark red demon waddling out of stage right. It was only three and a half feet tall. It's short goat legs were finished with long, floppy demon feet complete with long, yellow claws. It had to waddle stepping duck-footed. It was shaped like a pear with narrow shoulders and a round belly. His face had a pointy nose, pointy chin, small pitch black eyes and his head had two nub-horns of it with splotchy long black hair. His long arm stretched above his head. He waved and smiled a mouth full of yellow teeth as he approached Phil. Phil waited for the crowd to die down.

    "The show will be broken into four parts. The four parts will display my range of acting." The crowd applauded again. "So, with no further adieu, Act one." Segmund and Phil exited stage right. The stage hands would be setting a table on its end, removing the top legs, and putting a chair on each side for Act :1 Nazi comes to confession.

    The spot comes on showing Phil sitting in a black robe, a partition seperates him from an empty chair. Segmund enters stage left. He wears a Nazi military outfit. He looked serious as he marched to the empty chair and climbed up and sat.

    "Forgive me father for I have sinned." He hissed like a snake, when pronouncing the word sin. There was a murmur among the crowd. A dozen of the imaginary audience got up and left.

    "Cut!" Walter yelled. Phil shot to his feet.

    "What? What was wrong with that?" Phil inquired into the darkness.

    "Nazis offend people. We need to cut out the Nazi." Walter explained.

    "But that's why it's funny. Never mind. Ok. Take 2" Phil countered. This take Segmund walked across the stage in no outfit.

    "Cut!" Echoed from the dark. Phil stayed seated this time.

    "Why?" Phil already sounded tired.

    "Religion offends other religions" Walter rebutted." You can't be a priest." Phil looked confused for a moment.

    "Can he be German? Can I be a therapist" Phil asked.

    "Reducing someone to a nationality stereotype is offensive." Phil stood up.

    "That's it!" He howled at the top of his lungs. It echoed in the theatre. He kicked the chair into the audience, knocked over the table, almost squishing Segmund. "Setup for Act 2!" He screamed as he marched off stage right.

    Phil was getting a headache. He stood backstage rubbing his temples. He was in a makeup/dressing room.

    "Are you alright." It was the familiar voice of Walter. He looked at the dark silhouette in the doorway.

    "This is my final curtain call. Help me make it a great show." Phil begged.

    "I see." There was a pause. "It's your decision. I will back you in any direction that you want to go. Five minutes til curtain, kid."

    "Thanks Walter. Your always looking out for me."

    "Til the end." His voice echoed down the Hall as he walked away. Phil took off the robe. Underneath he still wore his suit pants, white shirt, and suspenders. He picked up an apron and wrapped it around his waist. He looked in the mirror.

    "You look like a bartender to me." Phil complimented and gave his reflection a wink. He turned and sauntered toward the stage. The spot shown on the table. It had bottles on the left of varying sizes and colors. The right side of the table were stacks of shot glasses and six beer mugs. Phil pretended to wipe the counter like a bartender. Segmund waddled in wearing a ball cap and Jean jacket. As he approached the only stool in the bar, Phil greeted him.

    "Welcome to Phil's bar, if you've come to wash the taste of the day outta your mouth, there's nowhere better." Phil gestured for Segmund to come over.

    "Cut!" Walter hollered but Phil could still hear the crowd clamouring. Phil's attention went from Segmund to the audience where Walter sat.

    "What? Why?" He inquired. Both hands were still on the counter.

    "Bars are offensive. Alcohol is offensive." Walter declared.

    "So where are we?" Phil asked.

    "Hmmm" Walter thought. "Dispenserie?"

    "So it's okay to sell drugs but not booze?" Phil felt like he was in amaze of silliness. He almost laughed at his own question.

    "No." Walter called back. "Medical marijuana. It's legal and..well..fashionable."

    "Fine." Phil ran his arm across the table spilling bottles and glass all over the stage. "Act 2 Take 2" he announced and everyone went back to starting position. Phil waited for Segmund to advance toward the stool.

   "Welcome to Phil's Dispenserie. If your looking to take the ache out of headache..there's No better place then here." Phil paused to see if Walter would cut. He didn't. "What could I get you?" Phil breathed a sigh.

    "Gimme a nice, fat blunt of Oingo Boingo Purple Kush." Segmund ordered.

    "Coming right up." Phil needed to pretend to do something under the counter.. He saw a program, grabbed it, folded it four times and rolled it up. It looked like a thick Doobie. "So what's your story?" Phil asked Segmund as he handed him the faux joint.

   "Well. Lemme tell ya.." He put the faux joint in his mouth and produced a lighter. He flicked the flame.

    "Cut!"

    "For the love of all that is holy. What?" Phil Huffed. The audience left in droves.

    "It's medical. You don't just light up and hang out." Walter comment.

    "So," Phil rubbed his hand over his sweaty face trying to calm down, "he's supposed to come in, order weed, we exchange weed for cash, and then he leaves?"

    "Yes" replied Walter from the shadows.

    "Well when are we supposed to talk?!" Yelled Phil.

    "I do not know. I am just trying to keep you the superstar you are." Phil felt good hearing that he was a superstar. " I can give you the canvas and paint but your the artist. You have to paint the picture." Phil heard the words he was saying but he found it was hard to concentrate. The stage started tilting, then slowly spinning until he fell on the wood stage. He felt Walter's hands shaking him. Segmund looked down at him, lightly tapping him on the cheek with his hand. He looked worried for a demon.

    "C'mon kid. We gotta finish the show. We just gotta. You gonna make it?" Phil tried to answer but everything faded to black.

    Phil regain consciousness on a cot in the makeup room. After a couple minutes of getting his head straight, he slowly swung his legs to the edge of the cot. He sat there waiting to see if the dizzy spell was over. A glass of water sat on a stool next to his cot. He drank it down.

    "How long was I out?"

    "20 minutes." Walters voice came from behind him. "Is the show going to go on?"

    "I don't know." Phil moaned.

    "Well, not to add undo pressure but the television is saying there is ALOT of hype about you on the streets. We can expect a packed house in an hour of real people and we still need to rehearse Act 3 and 4."

    Phil's blood started pumping when he heard the news. Packed house. Wow. His heart beat faster, his palms started getting sweaty.

    "Setup for Act 3. I'll get dressed and be out in 5." He rubbed his eyes as Walter left. "Here's your chance Phil." He encouraged himself.

The stage was set. A desk, an empty chair behind and in front of the desk, a coatrack, tables with piles of papers, it looked like a noir private investigators office. The spot was dimmed. Phil sat behind the desk wearing a tilted fedora and tan trenchcoat, he smoked a cigarette.

    "Cut! Smoking.." Walter started but Phil cut him off.

    "Smoking," he tossed the cig to the darkness."Fixed. Action!" Phil started speaking but not moving.

    "It was nine a.m. Monday morning. My head was pounding like A carpenters hammer. A P.I. life ain't a pretty one and 'shy town' would remind you everytime you let your guard down. Good thing I had my best friend." Phil narrated as he sat at the desk. He slowly lifted a pistol into the air when he referred to 'his best friend'.

    "Cut. Guns are offensive. I put a prop in your desk drawer. You can still call it a gun." Walter offered. Phil opened the drawer. His hazel eyes nearly glazed over in disbelief at what he saw. He lifted the rubber banana up. He looked toward walter, to the banana, back to walter, then he shrugged and put the gun in the drawer, and the banana, he stuck in his pants, of his lower back.

     A knock sound came over the house PA.

    Phil continued, "A visitor before ten was considered rude behavior among my friends, especially on a monday, it was a client." He got up from the desk and strolled to the door, adjusting his outfit on the way. He opened the door and a tall red head with long legs and big breasts, none of which was totally covered by her blue dress. The two stood motionless as Phil narrated.

    "She.." He began.

    "Cut!" The too familiar cry of Walter. Phil tried staying calm.

    "Why?" Phil forced a low tone and a grin.

    "Can't use pronouns. They are offensive. What if she doesn't identify as a woman?" Walter explained.

    "Fair enough." Phil conceeded. "Action"

    Phil resumed narration. "The client was a tall drink of water. I pointed her to the chair and took her coat. She never walked across the floor, she glided. I took my seat." Phil leaned forward putting his arms on the desk.

    "What brings you my way, Toots?" He asked. She reached in her bag and produced a cigarette. Phil held one finger up toward Walter. "We don't smoke round here, Sweetie." She shrugged and put it back.

    "My husband is trying to kill me." She said as she crossed her legs. Phil narrated.

    " I could tell she was bummed by my no smoking rule but those long legs were smoking the place up plenty.."

    "Cut!" Walter howled. "You can't dilute her to a physical feature. It's wrong."

    "I thought she wasn't a 'her'?" Phil inquired. "Or a 'she.'"

    "Whatever the person identifies as." Walter argued.

    "Great. Action!" Phil yelled, a tinge of anger breaking through his calm demeanor.

    "It seemed like it took forever for her long legs to cross.." Phil continued narration as they both stood still. "Now I knew why they called her Lily "long legs"

    "Cut. No nicknames. Nick.."

    Phil stood up and whirled to face the audience. His face was red and livid, he took a deep breath, he clinched his fists.

    "NO MORE!!" It was like a Viking howl booming out of him. He could see the sound waves move through the auditorium. Every row it reached, the imaginary audience member was blown away. The sound hit the sides of the theatre and bounced toward the ceiling. Suddenly, the house lights burst on.

    "When my real audience arrives, we begin. No more edits, interruptions, or rewrites." He started walking off set, stage left, when he yelled, " Walter have your meeting with Segmund." Segmund stood watching from behind a curtain on stage right. He hung his head and slowly waddled to the chair by the desk. He looked at the floor like a kid that knew he was in trouble. Soon Walter sat across the desk from him.

    "Seggie. Baby. Why the lowhead?" Walter asked through his grey miustache. Segmund looked up at him.

    "I trouble." He mumbled.

    "Trouble? You? Never. Truth is..between us, I'm trying to save you from this sinking ship." Segmund looked into his brown eyes with green flecks and cocked his head sideways like a dog that didnt understand. "Between us, this is Phil's curtain call." Walter laughed, "and it's happening, of all places, in Frankfort, Ohio. Frankfort has two Dollar stores, three pizza places, a dairy bar, and a population of 'who cares'. Your too big for this babe." He met Segmund's eyes and didn't flinch.

    "No curtain. Contract." Segmund returned.

    "I'm protecting you from being on a playbill beside pizza coupons and buy one get one ice cream. Phil needs the spotlight to himself tonight." Walter pulled a rolled document from his briefcase. He slowly unrolled it, scanning it, until he let out a grunt. He set the paper flat on the desk and pointed. Segmund stood on his stool and looked where he gestured.

    "Your out kid. Better luck next time."

    "True?" Segmund asked. Walter nodded yes. Segmund ran off stage left, crying.

    Blue and red lights came through the windows and start dancing on the walls, interrupting Phil's thoughts.

    "That's the signal Walter said he would flash when the actual show is about to begin." Phil was nervous. He was still in his P.I. outfit. He'd just ditch the trench coat and go out casual. He walked toward the stage. Other actors, singers and band members scurried here and there. Stage hands ran back and forth. Everything was alive. He heard a muffled P.A. voice. Phil double timed his walk to the stage wing.

    ..and here he is Phiiil Brooootowwwwski!"

    Phil ran on stage as three dozen police burst through the three double doors in the back of the theatre. The policemen ran down the aisles. When Phil felt that was far enough, his hand shot behind his back. The policemen stopped in their tracks and raised their weapons.

    "Hold on Phil. It doesn't have to be like this." It was the police chief. The chief was in the middle aisle, beside the chief was Phil's psychiatrist Dr. Yegar. "Let's talk."

    "You think you flat foots is the only ones with shootin' irons? Take another step and see." Phil warned with a New York gangster accent.

    "Phil. Focus on what is real." Yegar begged.

    "Easy snoopy. Don't make me clip your ears. I should anyway for the poison you pushed on me.."

    "It was medicine. For your schizophrenia. Do you remember Amy? The girl you killed. Her parents know your sick. No one wants you harmed. We all just want to put you back safe, in the hospital." Yager was pleading. Phil felt emotional. He glanced left and saw a cutout of the gorgeous redhead in the blue dress laying on the floor. Phil looked at his outfit. It was torn and dirty, streaked with blood. Phil looked on the table and saw a grey wig and grey mustache of Walter.

    "Walter? Walter!" Phil yelled. The policemen tensed. Phil felt panic.

    "He's imaginary." Yager offered. "How long since you took your meds? You've been out of the hospital three days. Your mind is playing tricks on you."

     Phil felt a tear roll down his face. He felt a hopelessness in his chest. He wiped the tear from his face and smiled. He took a deep bow.

    "Thank you for coming to my curtain call." Phil then pulled his weapon from behind his back. There was a bang and the police scrambled for cover. Phil stood on the stage, a red dot on his white shirt, his rubber banana in his hand. Slowly, the banana slipped and fell to the floor. He had a confused look on his face as he fell off the stage onto the cold cement.

    "Who fired?" The chief yelled. "Who?"

    "Me." The voice was high pitched and frail. The chief followed the voice until he stood in front of the elderly security guard for the theatre. The man must have been seventy. He was small and thin. The gun was still pointed at the stage. Smoke slowly rose from the barrel. His hands shook. The chief felt for the old man. He gently took the gun.

    "Hey. Are you ok? What's your name old man?" The chief asked politely.

    "My name? Well.. My name is Segmund