When Cthulhu Met Atlach-Nacha Page 3

  CUTHBERT: That is not dead which can eternal lie.

  And with strange aeons even death may die.

  That is not dead which can eternal lie.

  And with strange aeons even death may die.

  (MR. FORDHAM begins to twitch, then slowly rise, as CUTHBERT chants. Once FORDHAM is on his feet, CUTHBERT grows silent. MR. FORDHAM moves as a marionette. He shuffles silently to where ASHTON sat her bag, reaches inside, and gets her keys. He brings the keys to CUTHBERT and then sits beside him on the bed.)

  ASHTON: Bertie? What was that?

  (CUTHBERT quickly unlocks the chain from his ankle, tosses the chain on the floor, and lays back on the bed, pretending to read his book again. As ASHTON approaches, he crosses one leg over the other, displaying the freed ankle.)

  CUTHBERT: Hmmm? I'm sorry, what did you say?

  (ASHTON looks at the book, then at FORDHAM, then at CUTHBERT.)

  ASHTON: Oh, the Necronomicon. Very clever. Bravo, good sir, bravo.

  (ASHTON applauds him as the lights go down. The clapping continues in the dark. As the spotlights come up, CUTHBERT is seated, but ASHTON is standing before her chair, still applauding.)

  ASHTON: The Book of the Dead, a little light evening reading. Wisdom of the Mad Arab Abdul Alhazred.

  (CUTHBERT pretends to be humbly embarrassed by ASHTON's applause. He waves them off.)

  CUTHBERT: Please, please.

  ASHTON: No, really, doesn't he deserve it folks? Let's all give him a hand. Come on.

  (CUTHBERT stands and bows dramatically several times.)

  CUTHBERT: Thank you. Thank you, but really folks, it's all the people who've helped get me here that deserve the praise. Ummm… The Starspawn. Abdul Alhazred, of course. Am I forgetting anyone? Oh, the Great Old One Cthulhu, without whose unimaginable, otherworldly voraciousness I wouldn't be here today.

  (CUTHBERT and ASHTON both sit.)

  ASHTON: That was clever.

  CUTHBERT: (Shrugs) When you're a field scientist, you learn to improvise.

  ASHTON: (To the audience) As smart as he thinks he is, he rarely outsmarts me. But I admit, that was good.

  CUTHBERT: And hey, I stuck around, didn't I? I didn't get loose and run off to join in the carnage.

  ASHTON: I should have known that even the call of Cthulhu couldn't exert a greater force than the will of Ashton.

  CUTHBERT: (rolls his eyes) Yes, the will of Ashton, stronger than any chains. Blah blah, let's get back to talking about how clever I am.

  ASHTON: You know, you forgot to thank someone during your little acceptance speech.

  CUTHBERT: Who's that?

  ASHTON: Atlach-Nacha.

  CUTHBERT: (Pause, then grudgingly) I guess you're right.

  ASHTON: You thanked Cthulhu, but/

  CUTHBERT: I know.

  (CUTHBERT stands and then, in previous, award acceptance voice.)

  And a big thank you to Atlach-Nacha and her web of dreams, without which I wouldn't be here today.

  ASHTON: (sadly) No, you wouldn't.

  (CUTHBERT puts a hand on her shoulder, then sits.)

  CUTHBERT: Honey, it's okay. I'm okay.

  ASHTON: Are you? Are you really okay?

  CUTHBERT: Sure. (beat) I think. (beat) Yeah, sure. Don't think about that. I'm right here with you.

  (ASHTON stares at ground silently.)

  CUTHBERT: Come on. Let's remember the good times. Hey, remember sitting there with Mr. Fordham? It felt like when I was a kid and some old relative I barely remembered would visit.

  ASHTON: I don't know if I'd call that one of the good times. Things got pretty awkward.

  (Crossfade spotlights out, lights up. CUTHBERT and FORDHAM sit side by side on the bed. ASHTON stands to the side, as she did previously.)

  ASHTON: So, is he alive, now?

  CUTHBERT: I think he's just animated.

  ASHTON: Hmmm. (beat) Is Mr. Fordham animating his own body, or is something else in there?

  CUTHBERT: I don't really know. The Necronomicon doesn't specify.

  ASHTON: (Mockingly) It doesn't specify?

  CUTHBERT: It was written over twelve-hundred years ago. It's not The Dummies Guide to Necromancy.

  ASHTON: (To Mr. Fordham, as to someone who is hard of hearing) Mr. Fordham, are you alright?

  (FORDHAM doesn't react in any way.)

  (Louder) Mr. Fordham! (Louder) Mr. Fordham! (Screaming) Mr. Fordham!

  (CUTHBERT holds up one hand to her and rubs a knuckle from the other into his ear.)

  CUTHBERT: I don't think he can hear you. Mr. Fordham.

  (FORDHAM looks at CUTHBERT.)

  (To ASHTON) What did you want to ask him?

  ASHTON: Ask if it's him in there. Ask if he's okay.

  CUTHBERT: He's dead. I bashed the life from his body less than an hour ago.

  ASHTON: Ask him.

  CUTHBERT: Mr. Fordham, are you the real Mr. Fordham, or something else?

  FORDHAM: (Unintelligibly through the balled up page of the Necronomicon in his mouth) I'm me, Cuthbert.

  CUTHBERT: What was that? I can't understand you.

  FORDHAM: (Still unintelligibly) I'm me, Cuthbert.

  CUTHBERT: (To ASHTON) Did you get that? I'm not getting this.

  FORDHAM: (Unintelligibly) For fuck's sake, I'm me, Cuthbert! I'm me, Cuthbert! I'm me, Cuthbert! I'm

  (CUTHBERT and ASHTON are both shaking their heads, so FORDHAM takes the page of the Necronomicon out of his mouth and immediately falls limply to the floor.)

  CUTHBERT: Crap.

  (CUTHBERT takes the page from FORDHAM's hand and puts it back into his mouth. FORDHAM gets off the floor and sits on the bed.)

  CUTHBERT: Ummm, answer the previous question—

  (FORDHAM reaches again for the paper.)

  —but first! But first chew the page up a bit and move it off to the side, like a hunk of chaw.

  (FORDHAM follows the instructions.)

  FORDHAM: (Intelligibly now) It's me, Cuthbert. I am indeed Mr. Fordham.

  ASHTON: Are you okay, Mr. Fordham? Do you hurt?

  (FORDHAM doesn't react.)

  CUTHBERT: I think because I cast the spell he's compelled only to follow my commands.

  ASHTON: How rude. I've always been so nice to him.

  CUTHBERT: He probably doesn't have a choice. He wouldn't be doing anything besides rotting if I hadn't cast a spell on him. I imagine he can only use his old body to do my bidding. Mwahahaha!

  ASHTON: Does it hurt to be dead?

  CUTHBERT: Does it hurt to be dead?

  FORDHAM: It is nothing to be dead.

  ASHTON: Why are you hanging around Earth to be summoned? Is that what all souls do?

  CUTHBERT: Why are you hanging around Earth to be summoned? Is that what all souls do?

  FORDHAM: I think I should have dissipated, but I'm trapped in Cthulhu's dream, or Cthulhu is still dreaming me.

  CUTHBERT: So is this you or Cthulhu?

  FORDHAM: The dreamed knows nothing of the dreamer.

  ASHTON: How should we live our lives?

  CUTHBERT: I never found Mr. Fordham to be a particularly wise man.

  ASHTON: Now he has knowledge from beyond. Ask him. Ask him how should we live our lives.

  CUTHBERT: How should we live our lives?

  FORDHAM: You are living your lives as you should, as matter energized in one way. Eventually, you will die and be matter energized in a slightly different way.

  ASHTON: Downer. Are you pissed at Cuthbert for killing you?

  CUTHBERT: I'm not asking him that.

  ASHTON: Afraid to face the ramifications of your actions? Murder isn't as clean as you thought, is it? You're not as cold as you/

  CUTHBERT: All right! Are you angry at me for killing you?

  FORDHAM: I feel nothing.

  CUTHBERT: Okay, but if you felt something, how would you feel?

  FORDHAM: I'd feel that we are so puny in our tiny corner of reality that to hope or dream or be angry or happy at anything is
ridiculous. I'd feel that the entirety of my life expended so little energy that to call it futile would be both an understatement and an overstatement. I'd feel embarrassed about everything I've ever felt and done.

  ASHTON: (Long pause) Well that was depressing.

  CUTHBERT: And that's all life is. And all death is.

  ASHTON: You don't know that. You don't even know if that's really Mr. Fordham. Even he said he might not be Mr. Fordham. He might be Cthulhu's dream.

  CUTHBERT: We're all dreams.

  FORDHAM: Less than dreams.

  ASHTON: (To CUTHBERT) I hate it when you get like this.

  CUTHBERT: I find it comforting, that nothing matters. Don't you?

  FORDHAM: (As if CUTHBERT spoke to him) If I felt, I might feel comforted. Or disappointed.

  ASHTON: (To CUTHBERT) Just wait. Wait until Atlach-Nacha's web is complete. I think you'll be surprised.

  CUTHBERT: I don't want you to be disappointed.

  FORDHAM: (As if CUTHBERT spoke to him) I said "if." I don't feel. But thanks for your concern, anyway.

  CUTHBERT: (To FORDHAM) I wasn't talking to you. Spit out the spell.

  (FORDHAM spits the wad of paper onto the floor, then falls onto it.)

  ASHTON: Okay, so what do we do with the corpse?

  CUTHBERT: We could just leave him there. The end is nigh, after all.

  ASHTON: But he's in the way. We'll trip over him.

  CUTHBERT: I'll just put him in the closet.

  (CUTHBERT effortlessly drags FORDHAM offstage, then walks back in.)

  ASHTON: How did you do that?

  CUTHBERT: I (beat) don't know. I think I'm changing.

  ASHTON: Don't change yet, Bertie. Hold on a little while longer.

  (Lights down, spotlights up. CUTHBERT and ASHTON are sitting in their seats.)

  CUTHBERT: I've never been athletic, so that was pretty neat.

  ASHTON: (pause) You said that we're all dreams. I'd almost forgotten you said that.

  CUTHBERT: Yeah, I guess so.

  ASHTON: Maybe some of us more than others, though?

  CUTHBERT: Why are you doing this to yourself? Why torture yourself? Why can't we just remember the good times and be happy?

  ASHTON: Because that's not life.

  CUTHBERT: Yeah, well I'm not sure this qualifies as life anyway.

  ASHTON: (Strained silence. Then turns and listens to the audience. Then somewhat angrily) So you want to know about the end? Weren't we five seconds ago talking about trying to remember the good times?

  CUTHBERT: You can't blame them. Hell, the class I taught on eschatology was always packed.

  ASHTON: I remember. I attended one. You wanted me to see you at your best.

  CUTHBERT: (Stands and speaks as if giving a lecture) From Ragnarök to Armageddon, people have always been fascinated by the concept of the end of the world. Every civilization had their own idea about how the world would end, and every generation of each culture is certain that theirs will be the one to witness it. European Christians were certain that the world would end on the final day of the year 999. They starved by the thousands on pilgrimages to Jerusalem, where they awaited final judgment atop Mount Zion.

  ASHTON: But they want to hear our perspective. We don't have much to say about the general experience. This isn't curiosity; it's just voyeurism.

  CUTHBERT: (sits back down) I agree, but you have to give the people what they want.

  ASHTON: Do we?

  CUTHBERT: You don't want them to leave unsatisfied, do you? We've brought them this far.

  ASHTON: But aren't you tempted?

  CUTHBERT: By what?

  ASHTON: The power we wield. Wouldn't it be funny, to just leave them hanging right here.

  CUTHBERT: You know, that would be funny.

  ASHTON: Goodbye, folks!

  (Spotlights down.)

  Just kidding.

  (In the darkness, a horrible soundtrack begins playing, filled with screaming, weeping, crashing, the crackling of flames, and other unnerving sounds. The lights come up dimly. Supplementing this are the red and orange lights of flames shining through the window and from offstage. ASHTON is in bed asleep. Gripping his head in both hands, CUTHBERT paces back and forth across the stage.)

  CUTHBERT: It's so loud. It's so loud. It's so loud. Are you awake?

  (CUTHBERT leans closer to ASHTON.)

  Are you awake?

  (CUTHBERT lets go of his head and shakes ASHTON.)

  Are you awake?

  (ASHTON props herself up on one elbow.)

  ASHTON: (drowsily) You woke me up to ask me if I'm awake? Are you serious?

  CUTHBERT: How can you sleep through this?

  ASHTON: I'm just so tired.

  (ASHTON falls to the bed asleep. There's noise from offstage in the direction of the closet, banging and knocking about. FORDHAM enters from that direction. He's not looking too good. If you could smell him, he wouldn't be smelling too good, either.)

  CUTHBERT: What the hell?

  FORDHAM: Hello.

  (FORDHAM stumbles across the stage, moving away from the closet, towards the exit.)

  CUTHBERT: Aren't you dead?

  FORDHAM: (stops) Yes.

  CUTHBERT: But you're up walking around.

  FORDHAM: I have to go.

  CUTHBERT: (pause) So you really don't see what I'm getting at?

  FORDHAM: I'm sorry, but I really have to go. I need to feed my cats.

  CUTHBERT: Oh.

  (FORDHAM continues towards the door. Is just about to leave when CUTHBERT says)

  CUTHBERT: Mr. Fordham, are there any hard feelings for, ya know?

  (FORDHAM turns back for a moment.)

  CUTHBERT: I mean, I wouldn't blame you if there were. I just/

  FORDHAM: Of course not, Cuthbert. You've always been one of my favorite tenants.

  (FORDHAM exits, then pokes his head back in.)

  FORDHAM: But your rent is a week late. Slip it under my door when you get a chance.

  (FORDHAM exits. CUTHBERT shakes ASHTON, who is still asleep.)

  CUTHBERT: Ashton. Ashton. Ashton. The dead walk among us. Come on. This is it. This is the end. You don't want to sleep through the end.

  ASHTON: You're right. It's the dreams. They won't let go.

  (ASHTON sits up.)

  Atlach-Nacha is calling us to her dream realm. The web is nearly complete.

  CUTHBERT: She's not calling me.

  (CUTHBERT looks out the window.)

  Nightmares are squeezing through the boundary, roaming the streets. There's not much longer.

  ASHTON: You don't feel sleepy?

  CUTHBERT: No. Not at all. I feel totally tweaked. I feel strong.

  (CUTHBERT demonstrates this by dropping to the stage and cranking out some fancy push-ups: one-armed or clapping. Then he falls, grips his head, and screams.)

  I hear you, Cthulhu! I hear you! I hear and I obey! Please stop.

  ASHTON: (a dawning realization) You don't feel sleepy.

  CUTHBERT: I feel the birth pangs of an awakening god.

  ASHTON: You don't feel sleepy (yawns) but I can barely stay awake. I thought that in the end… I thought that something would be decided. I thought that one of us would be proven right.

  CUTHBERT: You thought that you'd be proven right. My mother always said that interfaith marriages don't work.

  ASHTON: You think we didn't work?

  (CUTHBERT gets up from the floor and sits beside ASHTON on the bed.)

  CUTHBERT: I think my mother wasn't right about everything.

  (They hold hands. ASHTON begins to slump, but then sits up again.)

  ASHTON: I refuse to sleep through this. I'm going to make some coffee.

  CUTHBERT: I'll do it. I need something to focus on.

  (CUTHBERT gets up, goes to the kitchen and begins preparing coffee. ASHTON starts to fall asleep again. She jumps to her feet, but begins slumping again. She begins spinning in circles. She eventually begins laughing.)

&n
bsp; ASHTON: This helps!

  (CUTHBERT screams and throws a coffee mug against the wall.)

  CUTHBERT: This helps!

  (ASHTON jumps up and down, spins, bangs her head while throwing the goat, aka the sign of the horns, aka metal sign.)

  ASHTON: This helps!

  (CUTHBERT slams pans together.)

  CUTHBERT: This helps!

  (ASHTON shreds on an air guitar and screeches out a solo.)

  ASHTON: This helps!

  (CUTHBERT licks the hot coffee pot and screams. He fans his tongue.)

  CUTHBERT: (spoken with his tongue stuck out) This helps!

  ASHTON: (laughing) How does that help?

  CUTHBERT: (laughing) I've got no idea. Have some coffee.

  (ASHTON fixes herself a mug of coffee and gulps it down. ASHTON and CUTHBERT both sit on the bed.)

  ASHTON: I thought… I thought we could beat anything.

  CUTHBERT: You thought that we could defeat the gods?

  ASHTON: Why not? Maybe neither one of us could do it individually, but together… I didn't think that we were something anything could destroy. I mean, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health/

  CUTHBERT: Until death do us part.

  ASHTON: Yeah. I guess I chose to ignore that part. (pause) You know, all your talk about the beauty of nothingness?

  CUTHBERT: Yeah?

  ASHTON: It's bullshit.

  CUTHBERT: Yeah? How do you figure?

  ASHTON: Because, I admit, you look up at the darkness between the stars and you realize we don't matter much, right?

  CUTHBERT: Right.

  ASHTON: Right, but in the face of this huge, cold universe that doesn't care about us one way or the other, you married me.

  CUTHBERT: Yeah?

  ASHTON: Because you know that to me, you're everything.

  CUTHBERT: You're everything to me, too.

  ASHTON: See? And that makes us something.

  CUTHBERT: I guess I see your point. Why didn't you say this earlier?

  ASHTON: I don't like talking about religion.

  (They sit silently. ASHTON begins to nod again. CUTHBERT grips his head and begins moaning.)

  CUTHBERT: It's getting louder.

  ASHTON: (sleepily) Mmmhmm.

  CUTHBERT: It's so loud!

  ASHTON: (sleepily) Outside? It's not that loud.

  CUTHBERT: His call. Can't you hear his call?

  (CUTHBERT collapses to the stage, head in hands.)

  Help me.

  (ASHTON puts her pillow on the stage beside him. She lays down and puts her arm over his shaking body. She continues to speak sleepily, as if already dreaming, while CUTHBERT groans in pain.)