PHILO'S FUNBOOTH!
[PHILO in a booth on the midway; enter TOWNIE & RUBE, strolling; both are faceless, genderless]
TOWNIE: I am a good reader and a good sport.
RUBE: No one believing or accepting me will be a permanent part of my life.
PHILO: Step right up 'n win! Knock 'em over, take home a prize! Step right up 'n win! Yep! It's that easy!
TOWNIE: I am overwrought with apathy.
RUBE: I, on the other hand, slake my inhuman thirst on the elixir of ambivalence.
PHILO [at TOWNIE & RUBE]: Hey there, sport-o-matic! Take a chance! Win a prize for your heartmurmur there!
TOWNIE & RUBE: Which of us are you addressing?
PHILO: Does it matter?
TOWNIE: What manner of token is awarded?
PHILO: Glad you asked, glad you asked! Because the prize here is nothing less than an identity of your very own! Yes! Identity, character, persona... call it what you will. These hot little numbers come in handy anywhere, whether you're getting your first one or replacing a worn out rag you got here last year. Take 'em to the beach, the office, the theatre or just use 'em around the house. They're durable and non-toxic. Guaranteed not to rust, tear or unravel for the life of the owner. Satisfaction guaranteed!
RUBE: I must say he makes a good case.
TOWNIE: Indeed!
PHILO: Take a gander at 'em [waves his cane at hundreds of eyeless rubber masks hanging on either side of the booth]. We got all types. The optimist, the careerist, the watchdog, the backstabber--victim, addict, failure, authority figure, humanitarian, good parent, bad parent, inner child, talker, listener, warrior, philosopher, boss, employee, comrade, friend, lover, acquaintance, outcast and so many, many more! Any one can be yours!
RUBE: I am intrigued. How might they be acquired?
PHILO: Well my faceless friendito, 'tis but a simple task. All you need do is toss a stone at... [waves his cane at objects against the back wall of the booth] Any hit's a win! Yessir, a-ny hit what-so-ever, pal. But the better your aim, the greater the gain!
TOWNIE: I fail to understand. Explain further.
PHILO: Well then. Knock the cow upside the head and choose from the lowest row. But you don't even wanna bother with that (my blind granny could kill that cow); no, you wanna go for the greater challenge. Try denting the tin god, knocking the rider off the high horse or Montaigne out of his tower there. Or you can shoot for the stars and try to bring down the cherub!
RUBE: I see no cherub.
[PHILO cranes his neck; TOWNIE & RUBE follow suit and gaze at the ceiling where a cherub the size of a dime hangs from a strand of human hair]
TOWNIE: No one could possibly hit that!
PHILO: Then you're just the folks to try!
[RUBE & TOWNIE glance at each other]
RUBE: How much?
PHILO: That's the beauty of it, chief. She's absolutely free, BUT!! [leans over the counter & whispers] you gotta supply your own stones...
TOWNIE: My pockets are full of stones!
RUBE: As are mine. I never thought of throwing them before this moment.
TOWNIE: Shall we?
RUBE: Surely!
TOWNIE & RUBE: Let's do!
[the first stones are thrown timidly and don't even make it to the back of the booth; as TOWNIE & RUBE continue, they grow more desperate, frustrated and wild; in the end, they are feral, throwing whole handfuls at a time; they both run out of stones]
PHILO: Well then... It seems you there [gesturing to TOWNIE] hit ol' Bessie! You get your pick of the low row.
TOWNIE: I'll take the uh... aggressor. No wait! The satirist, yeah I-- NO NO NO! Curmudgeon! Curmudgeon!
RUBE: And me?
PHILO [frowning]: Sorry to say, you hit diddly, nada, nichevo, zip, zippy, zippo--
RUBE: That is unfortunate.
TOWNIE [wearing his new identity]: Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
PHILO: Still... no one goes away from Philo's Funbooth empty handed. You get something from [drumroll from nowhere], the box!
RUBE: What's in the box?
PHILO: Oh... rejects, factory seconds mostly. And prototypes, discontinued models...
RUBE [peering into the box]: That one! Right there!
PHILO & TOWNIE: You sure?
RUBE: Very sure.
TOWNIE: Well, if that's what you want...
[RUBE dons the mask]
RUBE: Well?
PHILO: It's uh... nice.
TOWNIE: You look like a moron. What is that hideous thing supposed to be anyway?
RUBE: I don't know. I just like it.
PHILO: It's older, a top seller once. But discontinued years ago after a recall when they detected a flaw in the basic design.
TOWNIE: Dangerous?
PHILO: Oh no! Not the least bit. Just make sure it gets plenty of ambiguity and you'll be fine.
TOWNIE [to RUBE]: You're not wearing that in front of anybody we know.
RUBE: We'll see.
[TOWNIE & RUBE walk away]
RUBE: Rose
TOWNIE: Transient, boring, redundant.
RUBE: Vodka
TOWNIE: Temporary exhiliration followed by the reemergence of reality under even more terrifying circumstances.
RUBE: Penis
TOWNIE: Poorly designed, subject to unpredictable failure, trite after repeated performance.
RUBE: Music
TOWNIE: Cautionary example... at best.
RUBE: Tears
TOWNIE: Arrogant, self-indulgent--
[exit RUBE & TOWNIE]
[end]
take care
---jones
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Works & Days
Compaq Presario + Windows ME = $850 wasted
