W ORDSWORTH : Look for the stars! The rainbow comes and goes, and lovely is the Rose!
V OICE OF R OBERT L EY : Strength Through Joy!
V OICE OF E RNEST H EMINGWAY : The world is a fine place and worth fighting for!
A N A NONYMOUS V OICE : Jump!
V OICE OF C ARL S ANDBURG : I am the people! The mob! The crowd! The mass! Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
A N A NONYMOUS V OICE : Jump!
( H ATTIE ,
miserable and confused, turns in to seek advice from the trio inside. She looks to them beseechingly.
)
P LATO
(to his companions)
: Human beings live in a cave. They see only their shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the walls of the cave.
( W ILLA
and
L A R OCHEFOUCAULD
murmur and nod. Their complacence dismays
H ATTIE ,
and she begins to bawl like Lucille Ball. She turns back outward. The three visitors look at each other as if they’ve done all they can, and shrug.
)
V OICE OF F RANKLIN R OOSEVELT : We have nothing to fear but fear itself!
(But it’s too late.
H ATTIE
jumps. Screams and uproar from the street below cover the sound of her tragic landing.)
W ILLA : There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.
(A low siren is heard approaching in the distance. It makes
P LATO
uneasy. He goes to the radio and turns it on.)
L A R OCHEFOUCAULD : We may give advice, but we do not inspire conduct.
(He opens the abandoned bread package, takes out a slice, butters and eats it. The radio produces incongruous dance music, so
P LATO
tunes it to another station. After a moment of static, he finds an interview show.)
V OICE OF F RANKLIN P IERCE A DAMS :
Go, little booke!
and let who will be clever!
Roll on! From yonder ivy-mantled tower
the moon and I could keep this up forever!
A V OICE FROM THE S TREET :
Who saw her die?
I, said the Fly!
With my little eye!
I saw her die!
(The siren stops.
L A R OCHEFOUCAULD
munches on his bread.
C HRIST
appears in the window and grins in at the three assembled thinkers.
P LATO
reflexively turns off the radio.
C HRIST
speaks enthusiastically—almost singing, like Baby June Hovick—but rather jarringly, like a bad actor delivering the wrong line with great cheerful conviction.)
C HRIST :
I am His Majesty’s dog at Kew!
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are YOU???
( C HRIST
grins, and the baby awakes and cries. Blackout.
)
THE GIRL WHO DATED THE MOON
The Hopi Indians, or at least some people who live out that way, tell the story of a willful girl who took it into her head to date the moon. Despite the protests of her parents, she invited the celestial body to her family home. Needless to say, what she expected to be an overwhelming experience proved to be a disappointment.
First of all, the moon turned out to have no light of its own, a disillusioning fact that was all too evident when it finally did arrive, a mere dark rock with no glow at all, and hours late because in dislodging itself from its orbit it had altered the very basis of timekeeping and confused even itself. Secondly, it was nothing in size like its seeming equal, the sun, which is a million times larger than the earth. Frankly, the moon was scarcely the diameter of the United States. And, of course, at close quarters its mysterious and provocative imperfections were deep jagged canyons and ridges.
After a few fitful attempts at conversation, the girl fell silent. Her infatuation had been instantly shattered, and indeed, she hated the moon. However, it was too late. The moon had fallen for her, hard, and her indifference after inviting it such a great distance teased and obsessed it. It is a mere rock, remember. The moon began to pursue the girl around the grounds, but she turned into a Coleman lantern to escape his notice. (It should be mentioned that she possessed the power to turn herself into anything at will, a talent she had so overly indulged as to lead to
V OICE OF R OBERT L EY : Strength Through Joy!
V OICE OF E RNEST H EMINGWAY : The world is a fine place and worth fighting for!
A N A NONYMOUS V OICE : Jump!
V OICE OF C ARL S ANDBURG : I am the people! The mob! The crowd! The mass! Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
A N A NONYMOUS V OICE : Jump!
( H ATTIE ,
miserable and confused, turns in to seek advice from the trio inside. She looks to them beseechingly.
)
P LATO
(to his companions)
: Human beings live in a cave. They see only their shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the walls of the cave.
( W ILLA
and
L A R OCHEFOUCAULD
murmur and nod. Their complacence dismays
H ATTIE ,
and she begins to bawl like Lucille Ball. She turns back outward. The three visitors look at each other as if they’ve done all they can, and shrug.
)
V OICE OF F RANKLIN R OOSEVELT : We have nothing to fear but fear itself!
(But it’s too late.
H ATTIE
jumps. Screams and uproar from the street below cover the sound of her tragic landing.)
W ILLA : There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.
(A low siren is heard approaching in the distance. It makes
P LATO
uneasy. He goes to the radio and turns it on.)
L A R OCHEFOUCAULD : We may give advice, but we do not inspire conduct.
(He opens the abandoned bread package, takes out a slice, butters and eats it. The radio produces incongruous dance music, so
P LATO
tunes it to another station. After a moment of static, he finds an interview show.)
V OICE OF F RANKLIN P IERCE A DAMS :
Go, little booke!
and let who will be clever!
Roll on! From yonder ivy-mantled tower
the moon and I could keep this up forever!
A V OICE FROM THE S TREET :
Who saw her die?
I, said the Fly!
With my little eye!
I saw her die!
(The siren stops.
L A R OCHEFOUCAULD
munches on his bread.
C HRIST
appears in the window and grins in at the three assembled thinkers.
P LATO
reflexively turns off the radio.
C HRIST
speaks enthusiastically—almost singing, like Baby June Hovick—but rather jarringly, like a bad actor delivering the wrong line with great cheerful conviction.)
C HRIST :
I am His Majesty’s dog at Kew!
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are YOU???
( C HRIST
grins, and the baby awakes and cries. Blackout.
)
THE GIRL WHO DATED THE MOON
The Hopi Indians, or at least some people who live out that way, tell the story of a willful girl who took it into her head to date the moon. Despite the protests of her parents, she invited the celestial body to her family home. Needless to say, what she expected to be an overwhelming experience proved to be a disappointment.
First of all, the moon turned out to have no light of its own, a disillusioning fact that was all too evident when it finally did arrive, a mere dark rock with no glow at all, and hours late because in dislodging itself from its orbit it had altered the very basis of timekeeping and confused even itself. Secondly, it was nothing in size like its seeming equal, the sun, which is a million times larger than the earth. Frankly, the moon was scarcely the diameter of the United States. And, of course, at close quarters its mysterious and provocative imperfections were deep jagged canyons and ridges.
After a few fitful attempts at conversation, the girl fell silent. Her infatuation had been instantly shattered, and indeed, she hated the moon. However, it was too late. The moon had fallen for her, hard, and her indifference after inviting it such a great distance teased and obsessed it. It is a mere rock, remember. The moon began to pursue the girl around the grounds, but she turned into a Coleman lantern to escape his notice. (It should be mentioned that she possessed the power to turn herself into anything at will, a talent she had so overly indulged as to lead to
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