Aquarionics

Rosalind

Not quite as much dirty laundry as it looks like. There is an audio version of this floating around somewhere, but I’ve lost it. If anyone has the MP3 version of Rosalind email me (not attaching the file just yet :-) please. Thanks Andrew. It’s now linked from the end of the post

The Scene: A school stage, after hours. Two sixthform (17ish) students are in the remains of school uniform (smartish shirt/trousers, Shirt is undone at the neck) rehersing for a performance this evening

Ian

“What? Arms across? Worthy? Methinks you should hold them open when a friend’s so near.
The man has got the vapours in his ears. I must expell this meloncolly spirit..”.
Damn. I’m going to have to start that one again. Starting positions.

Ian

Si? The lack of response to your first name is only slightly more strange than your failure to pick up on the orignial mistake. But not by much. Simon? The man has got the bloody vapours in his ears. SIMON!

Simon

Hmm?

Ian

It lives! It breathes! It is alive, I say, Alive!

Simon

Ian, old chap

Ian

Yes frankenstien?

Simon

Go find a cliff to throw yourself off

Ian

Aha. So you are alive after all, I was begining to wonder if I wasn’t going to have to do this thing this evening by myself. What’s wrong?

Simon

Nothing that can be classed as new

Ian

Ha. So we are doing the wrong play then

Simon

And what play should we be doing?

Ian

Why, As You Like It, by old WS,

‘From the east to western Ind,
No jewel is like Rosalind.
Her worth being mounted on the wind
Though all the world bears Rosalind‘

That is, I assume, your major problem.

Simon

Furthest thing from my mind

Ian

Do we detect the foul stench of falsehood from my friend? I belive we do

Simon

Ha. Shall we go back to As You Like It then?

‘All the world is a stage,
And all the man and women are merely players
They each have their entrances and their exits,
and one man in his life plays many parts

Ian

Nah, Skip to

‘...and then the Lover,
Sighing like a furnace, with a woefull ballard,
Made to his mistriss’ eyebrow;‘

That’s your problem then. You are identifying with the depressingness of Jaques, whilst I am going for the lightness of Touchstone

Simon

The Rosalind poetry was by Orlando, and spoken by Rosalind herself

Ian

Pedantry is the last resort of the losing party. The point is still valid, you are mooning over yonder fair maiden, instead of doing something about it

Simon

There are complications

Ian

She’s female. There always are, It goes with the terror

Simon

You mean territory

Ian

I know what I mean

Simon

She is a friend, I don’t want to spoil that

Ian

So you prefer to moan about it to me, yes?

Simon

It’s an easier option

Ian

Come on, lets get back to this scene. We only have a few hours left before curtian. It’ll take your mind off it

Simon

You mean this scene? This scene were two friends are discussing My charector’s love life, or lack of it, because he hasn’t tried hard enough in your Charecters opinion?

Ian

Yes. ‘Tis indeed the picture of Worthy, but the life…

Simon

Where they then go on to discuss your charector’s love life, which is being hampered only by your complete and total stubboness. I mean your charectors, obviously

Ian

Shut up. ‘But the life has departed. What? Arm’s Across…

Simon

And correct me if I’m wrong, But the stubbonness in question is on the inability of one party to do an action. Good morning Mr Pot, Can I help you?

Ian

I told you to Shut Up. And besides, there are complications on this too. You don’t know what you are talking about.

Simon

No, Mr Plume, I have no idea. Mainly because every time I enquire as unto the name of this Miraculous Helen, this Misstriss of Troy, This Slivia to your captian Plume, Juilet to your Romeo, Jessica to your Roger Rabbit, I am so vigourously repulsed, that I dispair of ever finding…

Ian

OK, alright. For fuck’s sake, It’s Rosalind.

Long Pause

Simon

Have you ever had a moment, an instant which seems to drag on for hours, an event of such earth-shattering magnetude that it would take you days to see the extent of it? A point when you can see the world shatter into equal pieces and fall away from you. And you stand, in blackness, and in total deprevation of reality, stripped of all the layers of cotten wool designed to insulate you from the real world. You can analize every insult two of your friends have directed at each other, every conversation they have had with each other, and with you, that you have been party to. And woe betide that you should find something. and at that point, all your elequonce, all your studied phrases and dramatic emphasis will leave you. Everything will leave you. a broken shell.
You bastard.

Simon

‘You absolute and total and utter fucking bastard. So you have been egging me on for the past two fucking years to ask out your fucking Girlfriend?

Ian

She isn’t my girlfriend. She refused to go out with me until I told you

Simon

Nice to know she was thinking of me

Ian

Don’t be like that.

Simon

Like what? Like fucking what? Like I’ve just been betrayed by my two best fucking friends?

Ian

There was no fucking involved

Simon

Shut the fuck up! And when were you going to tell me? When were you going to pop the bubble and actually do what Rose…

...that’s it, isn’t it. That’s what this mysterious friend of yours wanted. The Canyon in your relationship. The thing you had to do before it went any further. Fucking Jesus! I’ve spent the last two weeks counsuling you to ruin my fucking life!

Ian

But I didn’t

Simon

No. You carried on stringing me along. You were still trying to get me to ask her out three minutes ago! Why? Why continue? So that I found out from her lips rather than yours?

Ian

Yes

Simon

What?

Ian

I knew how much Rose meant to you…

Simon

...Means to me. But carry on…

Ian

alright, Means to you. So I couldn’t tell you. I’ve been trying for weeks now

Simon

how… how long has this been going on for?

Ian

It’s three weeks since she told me. Three weeks since she gave me the ultimatium

Simon

And how long have you been seeing Rosalind for?

Ian

I told you, she refused to see me properly until I..

Simon

Don’t fuck with the words, Ian

Ian

A month tomorrow. Simon. Simon! You can’t go now!

Simon

Yes, actually, I fucking can. Exit, stage right. Exuant Omnes. Pursued by a bear-stard, like as not.

Ian

Where are you going?

Simon

I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I get there

Ian

But… The Performance?

[Download the original file]

Attachments

• Aquarion reading Rosalind

• Link
• Comment
• Trackback

• 2003-08-21 13:49:52
• Updated 6 hours later
• By Aquarion
• From Catrion Towers, Reading
• More Writings
• Filed under Stories