Waiting for Gordo.

Waiting for Gordo (an Absurdist Docu-drama)

03/28/2007 - by Samuel Buckett

Cast in order of appearance:

Monny Thomson (Bum #1)
Boydie Pack (Bum #2)
Oakster (Bald cranky man)
Missionary (fungible)
PeterBoy (messenger dressed in white)

Act One

Scene: A country road. A dead tree. Two bums sit near the tree.

Monny: I thought you were dead.
Boydie: Not dead yet. (Pulling off boots.)
Monny: Suppose we repent?
Boydie: Of what?
Monny: Did you ever read the Bible?
Boydie: The Bible? (Thinking hard.) I must have taken a look at it.
Monny: Do you remember the Gospels?
Boydie: I remember the pretty maps—in color. Was there a story?
Monny: Yep. Two thieves—Are you listening?
Boydie: Is this about death? I don’t like death. Let’s go.
Monny: We can’t.
Boydie: Why not?
Monny: We’re waiting for Gordo.
Boydie: He’s not coming. I think he’s dead.
Monny: Maybe we could hurry this up. We could hang ourselves.
Boydie: Won’t that give us an erection?
Monny: You wish.

Act Two

Boydie: You hear something?
Monny: No.
Boydie: I hear something. Look! It’s the Oakster.
Monny: (grudgingly). He's not bad looking.
Boydie: A trifle effeminate.
Monny: Look at the slobber. Look at the palaver.
Boydie: It's inevitable.
Boydie: Look at his eyes!
Monny: What about them?
Boydie: Bugging right out of his head.

Oakster enters carrying a rope with a loop tied around the neck of a young man dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt, a name tag, and with a short haircut.

Oakster: I am important. (Gives rope a jerk.)

They say I am perhaps not particularly human, but who cares? Look at the sky. (They all look up.) It is still daylight—why don’t you go? When it gets dark, what happens then with your appointment with Gordot . . . er Gordet. . . er Gordin—anyway, you know who I mean—he who has your future in his hands, at least your immediate future. (Aside to the missionary) Short as their future is!

Monny: This is boring.
Boydie: And it’s not over yet.

Oakster: (calmer). Gentlemen, I don't know what came over me. Forgive me. Forget all I said. (More his old self.) I don't remember exactly what it was, but you may be sure there wasn't a word of truth in it. (Drawing himself up, striking his chest.) Do I look like a man that can be made to lie? Now what about this missionary? Should we have him sing, recite scriptures, or--think? (Jerks rope.)

Boydie: Think? I think not.
Monny:. Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes. It’s awful.
Boydie: Men’s room is at end of corridor to right.
Monny: Give him his hat. He can’t think without his hat.

Missionary: And it came to pass that I Nephi la la blah blah blah lo and behold in the 3rd year of the reign of the judges I did took the sword and fasted and prayed--

Oakster: Stop! (Jerks rope again.)
Missionary: Adieu.
Boydie: Adieu?
Monny: Just say Adieu.
Oakster: Adieu, but don’t write me out of this script.
Oakster and missionary exit stage.

Boydie: That passed the time.
Monny: It would have passed in any case.
Boydie: Yes, but not so rapidly.
Monny: What do we do now?
Boydie: Let's go.
Monny: We can't.
Boydie: Why not?
Monny: We're waiting for Gordo.
Boydie: He’s not dead yet?


Portly man dressed in white with green apron rushes onstage and speaks breathlessly: PeterBOY: (in a rush). Mr. Godot told me to tell you he won't come this evening but surely tomorrow.


Boydie Is that all?
PeterBOY: Yes Sir.


Monny: You work for Mr. Gordo?
PeterBOY: Yes Sir.
Boydie: What do you do?
PeterBOY: I mind the sheep, Sir.

Monny: I wonder if we wouldn’t have been better off doing something else.
Boydie: Let’s revisit that idea of hanging ourselves.

The two bums exit stage left.

Comment Section

That was excellent.

It reminded me of the story of Beckett and Joyce in Paris.

"Once or twice [Joyce] dictated a bit of Finnegans Wake to Beckett, though dictation did not work very well for him; in the middle of one such session there was a knock at the door which Beckett didn´t hear. Joyce said, 'Come in,' and Beckett wrote it down. Afterwards he read back what he had written and Joyce said, 'What´s that "Come in"? 'Yes, you said that,' said Beckett. Joyce thought for a moment, then said, 'Let it stand.'" Ellmann, James Joyce. - 03/28/2007 - bloom


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