Love Me Tender…A Play.

Nativity scene…18^th century..Flemish.

(I have turned that short story of the same name into a short play. )

A one act, one set play.

Characters:

Kevin Cotton.. (Male..mid fifties, tall, with sardonic expressiveness) He is the Master of Ceremonies of the circus, an imposing figure in his M.C. outfit with top hat and tails.

Beverly Cotton…His wife, around fiftyish, slender, long blonde hair, motherly type who is the “Tibetan Lions” tamer as well as skilled acrobat. She is dressed in her acrobat costume.

Troppo, The clown…Tall, lanky male of indeterminate age as he is not seen without his stage clown makeup. He has a stoop to his frame and will twitch every now and then demonstrating some sort of substance-taking problem.

Rex…Short, stumpy male around sixty years, with groomed mustacho and a bouffant style of hair. He is both the one man band and the orchestra for when the “Big Top” acts are playing.

Ishaan (Ray of Light)..and Ayaan (Gift of God)..Two Roustabouts, Hindu male brothers of Indian ethnicity, around mid twenties..they are wearing traditional Kaftans and turbans..both tall and agile and serve as go-fors to the circus and will sometimes act in the big-top when required by Beverly.

Scene : Evening after dinner, a fire burns briskly in a low height brazier in the centre of a small circle of stock trailer and a couple of caravans, where can be seen from the flickering light of the flames the painted signs advertising the circus of which the folk gathered sitting on bales of hay around the fire belong.

There is emblazoned on the side of a long horse-box trailer; “Dangling Bros’ Circus”..on a caravan is the announcement of the next town on the itinery of their tour, but with a pasted paper sash across the dates and location with the scrawled word “Cancelled” written in bold on it.

Behind the people sitting around the fire, there can be seen several pens with painted cutouts of animals in them with the names and identifying species on a large sign on the pens. There is a Llama with the sign “Kazakhstan Camel”, A donkey named “Trunk”, two woolly sheep and two Samoyed dogs clipped so they look like they have lions manes…these are named “Shan” and “Tan” and are described on the sign as “Tibetan Lions”..There is also a close clipped kangaroo dog with black spots painted on its coat and described as an Hyena.

The folk sitting around the fire look glum and dispirited. They consist of the owner and M.C. Kevin Cotton, his wife; Beverly, who is attending to a baby in a car safety capsule, Rex, the one-man band, Troppo the clown who, while he has cleaned the makeup off his face, still is wearing his clown oufit..and the two Indian brothers wearing their kaftans and turbans.

Kevin : “How long we got the baby for this time, Beverly?”

Beverly : “Only for the weekend, luv’…Tracy is going with her new boyfriend to a music festival.”

Kevin : “New boyfriend?…What happened to Mick, he’s the father, isn’t he…did he run out of puff?”

Bev : “No..no…I believe he got a job out West and is a F.I.F.O. employee now, so she rarely got to see him…”

Kev : “What’s the bub’s name again?…I can’t keep up with some of these names.”

Bev : “Oliver…which isn’t a bad name…Mick wanted to name him “Andromeda”…”

Rex : “But he’s a boy child…Andromeda is a female name”.

Troppo : “Wouldn’t bother some people…when he grows up he could have a nip and a tuck and whammo; Bob’s your Aunty!”

Kev : “Save it, Troppo…it’s my grandchild you’re talking about”.

Bev : “Keep it quiet, you men or you’ll wake him up…and anyway she’s got this new bloke now.. This one is called Shaun…I believe, from what I could gather, she met him at a new age Deepak Chopra therapy workshop.”

Kevin : “Workshop?…what do they make at these “workshops”, hand-tools?” ..the other men guffaw at the slighting. “Oh well..I suppose it’s a better life than following us around the countryside…no future in that for a young woman.”

Troppo : “A Deepak WHAT!?….”

Bev : “Chopra…Deepak Chopra…he’a guru..Tracy is right in with him…He’s an Indian chappy”.

Troppo : “One of your boys, Ishaan…another Punjabi?”

Ishaan : “Oh no no…He is an American man…and we are not Punjabi…that is in the far north west of India…we are from Arunachal Pradesh…”

Troppo : “Does he bend spoons like that bloke…Uri Geller?”

Bev : “No..he just gives advice.”

Troppo : “Any bloke at the local front-bar can do that..you don’t need a guru for advice..”

Rex : “He doesn’t really bend them…you can’t bend a spoon just by staring at it”.

Troppo : “Dunno..it only takes a quick glimpse at the current lot of pollies to see they’re bent!”

(All laugh)

Kev : “Arunachal Pradesh, you say?…Well that’s a mouthful…like a hot Indian curry!” (All laugh)

Rex : “What would you call Wagga Wagga?”

Troppo : “Lasagna!” (All laugh)

Rex : “Woy Woy?”

Troppo : “Chinese noodles” (All laugh)…

Bev : “Well, we did our best, luv’…but she got a better schoolin’ by staying with my sister while she grew up.”

Kev : “ Yeah, well…I suppose young Oliver there is the benefit of a “good education”..” Kevin makes inverted commas with his fingers.

“Bev : “Oh stop it luv’ at least we got a grandchild, so many young people now don’t even want a relationship, let alone have a child…consider ourselves lucky” Beverly bends down to fuss over the sleeping baby.

Kev : “ One arrow in the quiver at least”…and he smiles.

Kevin pokes the fire with a stick, turns to gaze at the “Cancelled” sign, snorts and turns back to the fire.

Kev : “ Well..” he drawls as he makes a gesture with his head toward the sign..”I think that’s about torn it”.

He again pokes the fire, but this time more vigorously…

Troppo : “What you tryin’ to do, Kev…kill it?” he points at the fire as he speaks.

Kevin stops poking at the fire and throws the stick into the brazier in a frustrated action.

Kev : “Why should it be spared..when we’re all dead in the water”.

Troppo : “Well..we could just go along to the next regional town and set up and do a week or so there couldn’t we?”

Kev : “On what?…how much did we take this week..a couple of hundred dollars total!..That will just about cover the cost of the animal feed and leave us to eat their leftovers!”

Troppo : “What reason did the Mayor give to make him reject our longer stay in town?

(Kevin heaves a weary sigh and pauses for a moment before he replies.)

“He came around in that lairy jacket he wears…you know , the one with the broad red stripes up and down it…He’s a sketch..crikey, he could outshine you on a good day, Troppo!…Why can’t people just wear normal clothes…(the others automatically draw themselves up in surprise…Kevin pauses and looks at them all)…I don’t mean like us now while we are in costume…I meant just ..you know…out and about…Anyway…he comes around in that lairy jacket of his and asked if we had any wild animals in our company..Nothing wild, I said…only these…and I show him the Tibetan Lions, and the Hyena…and the Kazakhstan Camel, Wooly and Wally, the sheep and Trunk the donkey for the kiddie rides…all those things..”

Rex : “And . . . “

(Kevin stands, pulls his coat over his shoulders and walks to the animal stalls..and he enters into a pantomime, mimicking the mayor’s voice and stance when warranted).

“And what’s this?” says he. A Kazakhstan Camel, says I..He looks at it..then at me and moves to Shan and Tan.. ”And these?” says he…Two Tibetan Lions..says I…”Hrmm, funny…” says he “I coulda’ sworn they look like a couple of shorn Huskies..” says he “I know what these are” says he, pointing to Wooly and Wally the sheep..”But the Hyena…now THERE’S a rarity for these parts…Though I kinda suspect there’s a bit of Kangaroo dog and black hair dye bred into it somewhere” and he squints his beady little suspicious eyes at me..There’s many strange beasts in this world, says I..but all he says is he’ll pass on the donkey as that is obvious.

Then he stops in his tracks, re-reads the signs on the animal pens, looks up at me in silence for a good minute, snorts sarcastically and says; “You could go more for fraud than for holding dangerous animals without a licence!” …and between you, me and Charliee Shillabee…that hurt..it’s a good job the animals can’t understand and be offended, says I.”

“Offended!?” says he..”If it was anything like those lions that escaped from the circus in Darwin a few years ago and ran havoc through the wedding party nearby, WE’D be the ones who would be offended!” says he…and I have to confess I had no answer to that one except to say it was a good thing then that we only had “play wild animals”.

Rex : “But did you explain that they were all mainly for the kiddies to enjoy?”

Kev : “ I did..I did that…But , “This being a farming area” says he “ the kids can see just as many “wild animals” (his inverted commas) as you have on displayed in our. . . ”….and he paused as if to make a sarcastic point of it….”Dangling Brothers Circus”…and then he asked “ Where is the other brother?”…and I replied that he was the silent partner and with that said, he refused us permission to remain on the oval grounds because we would be an unwanted distraction from the  technology fair they were having that next weekend and they already had a full agenda of music and sparkling light events planned on the oval.”

(With this information, the others spring to their feet in protest …the upshot of their anger directed toward the claim that..}

Others : “Surely with the extra addition of our circus we could attract more visitors to the show?”

(Kevin sits back down in his chair, leans forward with both arms on his knees, staring into the flames of the fire..he then gathers several small pebbles from the ground and tosses them one at a time into the fire…he breaths deep and pauses before he replies to the general query…)

Kev : “I did say as much to the mayor..that we would attract more people to the show on the day..to which he patted the heads of Shan and Tan, looked up at our old Bedford truck, then did a squiz over the rest of our setup and replied in a kind of sympathetic yet fatalistic way…; “ I hate to be the one to tell you this, mate..but about the most attention you’d attract these days with this lot, would be the R.S.P.C.A. checking on the health and wellbeing of your “wild animals”..the immigration authorities checking on the bonafides of your roustabouts and the local copper checking on the roadworthiness of your vehicles…as for any other plusses you might suggest, I doubt the percentage takes at your “Big Top” ex-wedding marquee would cover the petrol to get you from here to your next port of call to glean them”…and with that he turned to walk away.”

(At this news, the others sit back down and an air of gloomy silence falls over the gathering and the only noise heard is the crackling of the wood burning in the fire. The group sits for several minutes in this silence before Kevin rouses himself somewhat and begins to quietly reflect.)

Kev : “When I was a youngster, I grew up in the late war years in a house that was..I suppose, the normal domestic setup of the times..Hell, we didn’t even have a hot water heater, my mother just used to heat up water on the wood stove to pour into a tub on the floor to bathe us kids!…and you know, that same wood burning stove for cooking…a kitchen dresser with doors top and bottom, bread bin and cutlery drawer in between, with a “bottom drawer” for all the odds and sods collected and “could be useful one day..tins of rendered fat off the hogget or mutton roasts with waxed paper covers there next to the big square tin of Arnott’s biscuits…smoky walls from the smoke off the stove, chooks in the backyard, veggies and fruit trees in the front yard and the old Chevvy truck from the nineteen twenties that the old man used for his building company business, parked in the driveway…no other car, and we used to go visiting relatives and friends in that old truck. Mum, dad and one of us kids on mum’s lap in the front seat with the rest of us and any other friends along for the ride seated on the buckboard tray behind the cabin, with a tarp drawn up to keep us dry and warm in the cold weather.”

Bev : “We still had the old horse and dray out there in the country area…three of us used to ride on that old draught horse bareback to school…”Nobleman”..that was its name..it would graze in the paddock next to the school and we’d ride it back home at the end of the day.. We’d have to boost the first two of us onto the back as the horse was so high and we were so small and then the biggest would help the last one of us up…it worked good for years…mum and dad didn’t seem to have any concern for the danger if there was any.”

Rex : “ What about you boys..how did you get to school in India?”

Ishaan : “What is school?”

(there is a pause and staring from the others)

Ishaan : “I am just joking…we walked everywhere…there was no cars in our village except for any government officials or the police…my father had a bycicle, like so many other families and he would take as many as it could carry after settling our mother on the back behind himself when we went to the town…and as for the rest of us…we would run alongside.”

Troppo : “Crikey!…that’d be a sketch!…a real flotilla of Punjabis belting down the road, all their skirts floating around their ears!”

Ishaan : “I am telling you again..we are not from the Punjab..we Are from the other side of the country and we do not wear skirts, but saris and kaftans and they resist the floating up around the ears, I can assure you!”…

Troppo : “What do you have, lead weights like the Victorian ladies used to have to keep their modesty intact?”

Ishaan : “Of course..it is the most practical solution…for it is written ; “The eye is not satisfied with seeing…”

Kev : “Nor the ear filled with hearing..but that’s how it was when I grew up..it was those things most familiar to so many homes in those days that framed the community…the neighbourhood..and it was a community, we knew almost everybody in the local area, all the kids used to swim at the local beach, share any chips from the shop, everybody knew everybody’s coming and goings..it’s how many people lived in those times..and then we grew up and went our separate ways..in my late teens, early twenties I went away interstate to work and live..like many of us…met new friends, shared living quarters, houses etcetra…partied…oh hell..did we party!…so I had no inclination to go back home for several years… and then one day I did wander back to the old address to say hello to the old folks…and when I walked into that old house…that old kitchen that hadn’t changed one iota from the time I left…and why would they, the old folks..they evolved with it, put it in place, it was all they were used to, like the rest of the community, all they wanted, all they needed.. …but when I stepped into that old kitchen, I was shocked at how it looked so..so almost medieval..I was thinking..almost squalid compared to the modern kitchens I had now grown used to”

(Kevin pauses and stares deep into the fire for a moment before he continues.)

Kev : “And I grew up with that same idea..what we had there when I was young was all we needed..we never gave a thought that the world around us was in a state of continual progress, things were changing all around us, but we were there on the edge of the sea, with the wind and the gullies and we were all play and playfulness, unaware of those changing times, so it came as a sudden shock to see that house that I called home was an anachronism from another age and now almost unusable for these modern times…and I wanted to sweep it away from my sight, from my memory as if I was ashamed of the way I grew up..ashamed of that very community that shaped me..”

Rex : “Yeah..it is strange that notion of rejecting the familiarity of even one’s own nationality…I remember some years ago, I was walking in the city with this Italian lad, he was born here, but his parents came from the old country..and there was a family of those Vietnamese refugees who were new to this country then…and this Italian fellah said ; “They shoulda’ sent those slopes back as soon as they landed their boats here”…and I was surprised at his hatred of other immigrants and I said to him..”Feo…why would you say that, don’t you remember when your parents or grandparents suffered the same hatred for being a “New Australian”?”…”I’m not a new Ostrrralyan, I was born here.. I am Ostrrralyan”…like that..”Ostrrralyan”…I almost laughed out loud..but it’s true…this rejection of one’s own community.”

Kev : “Yes…and it’s the same with us here…now..in this little anachronism of a circus..like the foreigner in a strange land…like vaudeville, we are caricatures of a circus…like that Feo bloke was a caricature of a native born Australian..we are now in an archaic style of entertainment..We, with our old outlandish costumes, our make-believe “wild animals”, our little world of tumbling clowns and acrobats…Rex, the one-man-band thumping his way among the crowds we imagine will come to see us..of an older world of physical entertainment meeting a new world of internet fantasy and dreams…We go from one small town to another in our beaten up jalopies with just enough fuel and spirit to get us from one place to the next….”

(pause)

“When that mayor said those things about our rigs and our animals and us in general, it was like that moment so long ago when I walked back into that old home, that old kitchen…and I suddenly saw the tawdry reality of our situation and I realised there was no further down this road we could go..When the mayor turned to walk away, all this passed through my mind’s eye in a split moment and I called to him…”Wait!” I said..”wait a moment!”…

(Kevin goes silent..throws another pebble or two into the fire..blinks and wipes away a tear of regret..)

“The upshot is that from this moment forward, The Dangling Brothers circus is no more…we have come to a screeching halt…I have negotiated with the mayor who will buy the long animal float and the small truck that pulls it…The mayor introduced me to several local people who took an interest in several animals of the circus..the donkey and the Llama…aka ; the Kazakhstan camel”…

(The Indian brothers and Troppo the clown jump up with a cry of protest…Beverly and Rex remain seated staring ahead as they were already informed of this possibility)

Ayaan : “What’s to become of us, mister Cotton..my brother and I cannot just mingle with the local people here…we stand out like a couple of sore thumbs!?”

Troppo : “And me…this is the only skill I have..I was born a clown…you ask anybody who knew me…”

Kev : “I had no choice, Ayaan, if I was going to pay you and your brother, the same for you , Troppo…the same for feed for the animals..that was it, we’re broke, with no place left to go and no chance anymore of making a living with what we’ve got left..as the mayor also said about the kids coming to see our circus..”They’re more interested in Super Mario Brothers on Nintendo, than The Dangling Brothers on the oval…” and that is the ghastly reality that has defeated our old world…..one word…Internet.”

Rex : “So we have to dismantle our real little community of real people on the ground to make way for this new fantasy community of make-believe on the airwaves?”

Troppo : “In effect, we have to sacrifice ourselves and our community to make way for this new world order…a kind of social euthanasia for the so-called betterment of progress.”

“Kev : “Yes..that’s the bare truth..and if you recall, rex..and you too, Troppo…the kids of today don’t have the same regard for the entertainers of our style and era.”

Troppo : “Hrumph…that’s true…when you say it like that…at that last town we performed at, I several times had kids running away from me pointing and yelling “It, It , It!” and calling out “Pennywise the Clown!” when running away…I don’t get it..what was that about?”

Bev : “Oh that was in relation to this new Television show called “It..Welcome to Derry”..about this clown called Pennywise who goes about murdering kids in the town…”

Troppo : “Oh great…just great…that’s all I need!”

Rex : “I had some teen kids try to trip me up just last week as I was walking about in my one-man-band outfit…sent me stumbling forward, the big bass drum going Bam, Bam, Bam and the cymbals and tamborine going clash, clash, clash with the car horn finishing it all off with that sad wharp, wharp whaaarp…as I tried to regain my footing…sending the teens into fits of laughter…if I coulda’ got a hold of them. . . “

Kev : “Now we have to make plans for the future..I’ll pay you all up the wages owing to you up until the day we close shop…so no one will miss out, plus if we can manage it a settlement bonus to give you all some breathing space for the next month. I’ll be staying in the district until I can finalise the sale of all the chattels of the circus, then myself and Beverly will make our way up country to Orange to work with my brother.”

Rex : “I think I’ll hang around to see if I can hitch a ride onto the travelling country music outfit coming to play at the mayor’s fair..I reckon I can still knock out a good Willy Nelson song or two to see me by.”

Kev : “I’ll give you two boys a lift to the next regional town where you can buy a rail ticket to Sydney where you can disappear into the burbs there..”

Troppo : “I’ll join you boys in that…I reckon the big smoke can swallow up another performing clown there somewhere.”

(at this point the baby stirs in the bassinette..Beverly bends down to attend the child..)

Bev : “Oh dear..all our chatter has woken Oliver, “

(Beverly takes the baby from the cradle and embraces it in her arms…the shawl slips from her shoulder and Kevin lifts it back up but places it over her head so she takes on the classical look of the Virgin Mary and child..)

Bev : “There there…little chap..gran’s got you now…I’ll get you some milk..(Bev motions to a container near the heater.) Kev, be a dear and pass me his bottle…”

Kev : “ What bottle?”

Bev : “ There..under the tea-towel.” (Kevin rummages among some cloths and lifts up a baby’s bottle inside a stubbie cooler)

Kev : “ THIS!?….are you sure it’s not a beer?”

Bev : “ Don’t be silly…it’s in there to keep it warm”.

Troppo : “ Strange place to keep mother’s milk…I coulda’ mistaken it for a Fosters and drunk the stuff!”

Kev : “ That’d be a new depth for you, Troppo…getting drunk on mother’s milk.”

Troppo : “ Yeah, well a stubby holder is there to keep the heat OUT!”

Rex : “ What keeps the heat out will just as well keep the heat in.”

Troppo : “ Oh yeah…so who’s the wise old man now?”

Bev : “ Shoosh, you men…stop squabbling, I don’t want to be up all night with an excited baby..”

(Beverly pulls the shawl around herself and the child in her arms as she feeds him..The lighting softens and the group comes closer together centred around Beverly and child)

Ishaan : “ Amazing that while our old circus community dies, a new life is born with the child”.

(The others all turn in unison to gaze at Ishaan questioningly)

Ishaan : “ Well…there it is (he motions with his hand to Beverly and child) we have the mother…for even if this is not Beverly’s child, she still is a mother..and if I may extrapolate on this little scene before us here…it is this (He stands and delivers his analogy) There is the Nativity scene of The Virgin Mary and child, she is sited in a stable with baby and crib, with a donkey and sheep on one side and the Kazakhstan camel and lions on the other..we have the father Joseph..played by Mr. Kevin…and if one was to draw a long bow…a very long bow on the notion of the Three Wise Men, we have Mr. Rex, Mr Troppo and my good brother Ayaan. All of them sited among the hay and glow of a warming fire while in their now homeless state.”

(Ishaan finishes with his arms spread …there is silence from the others)..

Bev : “ Well…that’s a sketch and no mistake..sit back down Ishaan before you get the idea to deliver some sort of gospel”.

Troppo : “ I thought you said you were Hindi…how do you know about the Nativity scene..it’s a Christian concept?”

Ishaan : “ Oh Mr. Troppo..India was for many years plagued by the British and their British religious ideas.”

Rex : “ Thankfully they a did a better job teaching you how to play cricket that praying on your knees.”

Ishaan : “ Oh yes…that’s all we Indians are thought about..cricket and curry..it’s cruel the lack of respect we are shown for our culture.”

Troppo : “ Hang on a sec’, Ishaan…My father was Italian and we got the whole “Dago” runaround for years after he came here before I was born..Now I know my way around this country, warts and all..probably better than most Anglos, ‘cause I was watching for years as I grew up..I fit in..YOU have to wait in the queue..just like any newcomer to YOUR country..there’s no “last on first off” with this thing…and there was the Germans before us wops…and then the Abos and Afghani camel corps before them…you can’t just jump the queue…if you want a fair shake, you have to grab your mug and spoon and wait in line..”

Ishaan : “ Wait for what, Mr. Troppo…I am sorry, but we Hindis do not believe in the second coming.”

Kev : “ Thank you, Ishaan, for drawing my attention to the scene you just described…you may just have something there..for truly this is both a sombre and an enlightening moment in our lives…and if I can slip into a moment of reflection here and I apologise if I seem to be talking for everybody, but I’m thinking we could agree on what I am about to say, regardless of our differences in nation of origin or status of birth..but I speak for all of us when I say “this little community of fellow travellers”…for that is what we were..what we still are..a community..That we have been forced by external circumstances..and perhaps also the mechanisation of technology that has supplanted the need of our older style of amusement and entertainment…and perhaps we will be, like so many other small communities, scattered to the wind..we still must hold to that core principle, that regardless of how irrelevant is thought our actions, how irrelevant is considered our use, how obsolete are our opinions, we must hold to what we have, through experience and practice, through observation and accumulation filtered, the wisdom of working practices from these new ones of theoretical fantasies….we are still that small community and we must keep looking after each other in thought if not in realistic deed ..we must…we must.”

(There is a deep silence after Kevin’s soliloquy ..and a gentle nodding of heads in agreeance..Beverly has finished feeding the baby and places it back down in the crib..as she tucks it in.)

Bev : “ Well, he’s fed and settled…someone sing a lullaby to put him back to sleep.”

Troppo : “ You sing, Bev.”

Bev : “ Me?..with my gravelly voice, I’d just make him upset!”

Ishaan : “ I know a Hindi lullaby..” (He starts to sing..)

Troppo : “ Give over, Ishaan…how do you expect the little tacker to understand your lingo..Here, you, Rex…you’re the resident muso’…you’ve been quiet…how about you strike up a little number.?”

(The group crowded around the cradle go quiet in expectation..light pans over the background animals in their pens looking at the scene..Beverly and Kevin as Mary and Joseph leaning over the crib, the Indian brothers with their turbans and Troppo the clown behind morphing into the three wise men and a softening of light turn the scene into the classic Nativity scene as Rex begins to sing his song”

Rex : “ I expect you all know this one…even you two brothers…

“Love me tender,
love me sweet,
never let me go.
You have made my life complete,
and I love you so.

(All join in with the chorus)

Love me tender,
love me true,
all my dreams fulfilled.
For my darlin’ I love you,
and I always will.

Love me tender,
love me long,
take me to your heart.
For it’s there that I belong,
and we’ll never part.

Love me tender,
love me true,
all my dreams fulfilled.
For my darlin’ I love you,
and I always will.

Love me tender,
love me dear,
tell me you are mine.
I’ll be yours through all the years,
till the end of time.

Love me tender,
love me true,
all my dreams fulfilled.
For my darlin’ I love you,
and I always will.”