A Bad Night

DRAMATIS PERSONAE. VILLIAM _a Sen_ NEEDLESON _a Sidniduc_ SMILER _a Scheister_ KI-YI _a Trader_ GRIMGHAST _a Spader_ SARALTHIA _a Love-lorn Nymph_ NELLIBRAC _a Sweetun_ A BODY; A GHOST; AN UNMENTIONABLE THING; SKULLS; HOODOOS; ETC. _Scene_-a Cemetery in San Francisco. _Saralthia, Nellibrac, Grimghast._ SARALTHIA: The red half-moon is dipping to the west, And the cold fog invades the sleeping land. Lo! how the grinning skulls in the level light Litter the place! Methinks that every skull Is a most lifelike portrait of my Sen, Drawn by the hand of Death; each fleshless pate, Cursed with a ghastly grin to eyes unrubbed With love's magnetic ointment, seems to mine To smile an amiable smile like his Whose amiable smile I-I alone Am able to distinguish from his leer! See how the gathering coyotes flit Through the lit spaces, or with burning eyes Star the black shadows with a steadfast gaze! About my feet the poddy toads at play, Bulbously comfortable, try to hop, And tumble clumsily with all their warts; While pranking lizards, sliding up and down My limbs, as they were public roads, impart A singularly interesting chill. The circumstance and passion of the time, The cast and manner of the place-the spirit Of this confederate environment, Command the rights we come to celebrate Obedient to the Inspired Hag- The seventh daughter of the seventh daughter, Who rules all destinies from Minna street, A dollar a destiny. Here at this grave, Which for my purposes thou, Jack of Spades- _(To Grimghast_) Corrupter than the thing that reeks below- Hast opened secretly, we'll work the charm. Now what's the hour? _(Distant clock strikes thirteen_.) Enough-hale forth the stiff! _(Grimghast by means of a boat-hook stands the coffin on end in the excavation; the lid crumbles, exposing the remains of a man.)_ Ha! Master Mouldybones, how fare you, sir? THE BODY: Poorly, I thank your ladyship; I miss Some certain fingers and an ear or two. There's something, too, gone wrong with my inside, And my periphery's not what it was. How can we serve each other, you and I? NELLIBRAC: O what a personable man! _(Blushes bashfully, drops her eyes and twists the corner of her apron_.) SARALTHIA: Yes, dear, A very proper and alluring male, And quite superior to Lubin Rroyd, Who has, however, this distinct advantage- He is alive. GRIMGHAST: Missus, these yer remains Was the boss singer back in '72, And used to allers git invites to go Down to Swellmont and sing at every feed. In t'other Villiam's time, that was, afore The gent that you've hooked onto bought the place. THE BODY _(singing):_ Down among the sainted dead Many years I lay; Beetles occupied my head, Moles explored my clay. There we feasted day and night- I and bug and beast; They provided appetite And I supplied the feast. The raven is a dicky-bird, SARALTHIA _(singing):_ The jackal is a daisy, NELLIBRAC _(singing):_ The wall-mouse is a worthy third, A SPOOK _(singing):_ But mortals all are crazy. CHORUS OF SKULLS: O mortals all are crazy, Their intellects are hazy; In the growing moon they shake their shoon And trip it in the mazy. But when the moon is waning, Their senses they're regaining: They fall to prayer and from their hair Remove the straws remaining. SARALTHIA: That's right, Rogues Gallery, pray keep it up: Your song recalls my Villiam's 'Auld Lang Syne,' What time he came and (like an amorous bird That struts before the female of its kind, Warbling to cave her down the bank) piped high His cracked falsetto out of reach. Enough- Now let's to business. Nellibrac, sweet child, St. Cloacina's future devotee, The time is ripe and rotten-gut the grip! _(Nellibrac brings forward a valise and takes from it five articles of clothing, which, one by one, she lays upon the points of a magic pentagram that has thoughtfully inscribed itself in lines of light on the wet grass. The Body holds its late lamented nose.)_ NELLIBRAC _(singing):_ Fragrant socks, by Villiam's toes Consecrated to the nose; Shirt that shows the well worn track Of the knuckles of his back, Handkerchief with mottled stains, Into which he blew his brains; Collar crying out for soap- Prophet of the future rope; An unmentionable thing It would sicken me to sing. UNMENTIONABLE THING _(aside):_ What! _I_ unmentionable? Just you wait! In all the family journals of the State You'll sometime see that I'm described at length, With supereditorial grace and strength. SARALTHIA _(singing):_ Throw them in the open tomb They will cause his love to bloom With an amatory boom! CHORUS OF INVISIBLE HOODOOS: Hoodoo, hoodoo, voudou-vet Villiam struggles in the net! By the power and intent Of the charm his strength is spent! By the virtue in each rag Blessed by the Inspired Hag He will be a willing victim Limp as if a donkey kicked him! By this awful incantation We decree his animation- By the magic of our art Warm the cockles of his heart, Villiam, if alive or dead, Thou Saralthia shalt wed! _(They cast the garments into the grave and push over the coffin. Grimghast fills up the hole. Hoodoos gradually become apparent in a phosphorescent light about the grave, holding one another's back-hair and dancing in a circle.)_ HOODOO SONG AND DANCE: O we're the larrikin hoodoos! The chirruping, lirruping hoodoos! We mix things up that the Fates ordain, Bring back the past and the present detain, Postpone the future and sometimes tether The three and drive them abreast together- We rollicking, frolicking hoodoos! To us all things are the same as none And nothing is that is under the sun. Seven's a dozen and never is then, Whether is what and what is when, A man is a tree and a cuckoo a cow For gold galore and silver enow To magical, mystical hoodoos! SARALTHIA: What monstrous shadow darkens all the place, _(Enter Smyler.)_ Flung like a doom athwart-ha!-thou? Portentous presence, art thou not the same That stalks with aspect horrible among Small youths and maidens, baring snaggy teeth, Champing their tender limbs till crimson spume, Flung from, thy lips in cursing God and man, Incarnadines the land? SMYLER: Thou dammid slut! _(Exit Smyler.)_ NELLIBRAC: O what a pretty man! SARALTHIA Now who is next? Of tramps and casuals this graveyard seems Prolific to a fault! _(Enter Needleson, exhaling, prophetically, an odor of decayed eggs and, actually, one of unlaundried linen. He darts an intense regard at an adjacent marble angel and places his open hand behind his ear.)_ NEEDLESON: Hay? _(Exit Needleson.)_ NELLIBRAC: Sweet, sweet male! I yearn to play at Copenhagen with him! _(Blushes diligently and energetically.)_ CHORUS OF SKULLS: Hoodoos, hoodoos, disappear- Some dread deity draws near! _(Exeunt Hoodos.)_ Smitten with a sense of doom, The dead are cowering in the tomb, Seas are calling, stars are falling And appalling is the gloom! Fragmentary flames are flung Through the air the trees among! Lo! each hill inclines its head- Earth is bending 'neath his thread! _(On the contrary, enter Villiam on a chip, navigating an odor of mignonette. Saralthia springs forward to put him in her pocket, but he is instantly retracted by an invisible string. She falls headlong, breaking her heart. Reenter Villiam, Needleson, Smyler. All gather about Saralthia, who loudly laments her accident. The Spirit of Tar-and Feathers, rising like a black smoke in their midst, executes a monstrous wink of graphic and vivid significance, then contemplates them with an obviously baptismal intention. The cross on Lone Mountain takes fire, splendoring the Peninsula. Tableau. Curtain.)