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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 13 | volume III | February-March, 2000



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SLOVOKULT.DE
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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 13February-March, 2000
Theatre Play

Who the Fuck Started All This?

(The hurtling stillness)


/7
p. 1
Dejan Dukovski

_______________________________________________________________________

First Circle – Meaning

The Bill Collecter
    Bezaniya (The Runaway)

A Small Hill
    A Door
    Bezaniya (The Runaway)
    The Bill Collecte (With No Left Eye)


    THE BILL COLLECTER
    Nothing is happening.
    BEZANIYA
    Something will happen.
    (Pause)
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    I have to go.
    BEZANIYA
    Don't.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    They're waiting for me.
    BEZANIYA
    But I waited too.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    I am here. I was delayed. I was collecting payments. I got here. Now I have to carry on. I must be there on time.
    BEZANIYA
    Don't.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    I will return.
    BEZANIYA
    When? Where?
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    In a while. Somewhere round here.
    (Pause)
    Or a bit later. Somewhere else.
    BEZANIYA
    Where are you going?
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    I don't ask about you.
    BEZANIYA
    Ask. I can't wait any longer.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    Don't.
    BEZANIYA
    Don't.
    (Pause)
    It grieves me, when there’s no you.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    Stop saying things like that. Don't say them to me. Not to me. Do you hear me? Don't.
    (Pause)
    Just don't.
    (Pause)
    Just don't, I tell you.
    BEZANIYA
    Take it easy.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    Are those your teeth?
    BEZANIYA
    Yes.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    Take care of them.
    (Pause)
    Don't fool around. Very little is left at the end.
    BEZANIYA
    You're left.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    Rabbits in front of headlights are left. Look. There is no end. There wasn't even a beginning. Nothing happened. Some time has passed. A fast moving stillness. Forward. Or back. Or when? Yesterday. Later. Last year. Now. Tomorrow. Sometime ago. Many years from now. Centuries ago. A youth. Old age. A doomed autumn. An ordinary day. An ordinary life. One of those moments. Somewhere in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, on it's way to the arse of the world.
    (Pause)
    An old tree. A bench in the park. A train station. A gaudy umbrella. Hot chocolate. A wide street. A striped shirt. A morning cigarette. A delight to the soul. Something horny. A tiny betrayal. The smell of a kitchen. Unpaid bills. Expensive perfumes. Queues. Nice places. A little joy. A good laugh. A circus. A monkey… No, no, a pig, imitating death. An explosion. Parts of other parts. Dead parts. Countries. Europes. A load of bollocks. A part of me. A part of you. I'm really fucked up. Look. I'm going to explode one of these days. I'll settle over everything like dust.
    (Pause)
    Someone's farting. Someone farts all the time.
    BEZANIYA
    Would you like some strawberries?
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    Something stinks.
    BEZANIYA
    Nothing stinks.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    How the fuck not? Where did those strawberries come from?
    BEZANIYA
    They're here.
    THE BILL COLLECTER
    There isn't time.
    BEZANIYA
    Time is all there is. My time stands still when you're not around. I give a lifetime for a one moment. It isn't late. Don't go anywhere. Don't get anywhere. Stay with me. Give me






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