A brisk, October morning. George and Laura Bush sit on the covered terrace of their house in the exclusive Preston Hollow neighborhood of North Dallas. Laura wears a dressing gown over tailored silk pajamas and drinks tea out of a silver service. George wears a t-shirt down to his knees that says, “Hook ’em, Horns!” For breakfast, he’s having an RC and a moon pie.
GEORGE
Damn. That guy gets everything.
LAURA
Who, George?
GEORGE
Obama. He just got the Nobel Peace Prize.
LAURA
Are you sure?
GEORGE
They just announced it.
LAURA
But he hasn’t done anything.
GEORGE
Exactly. I’m President for eight years and what do I get?
LAURA
Did you want the Nobel Prize?
GEORGE
No, but a little recognition would be nice.
LAURA
We came here so we wouldn’t be recognized - by the wrong people.
GEORGE
You make it sound like we’re hiding.
LAURA
Relaxing.
GEORGE
It’s hard to relax when you’re humiliated on a worldwide scale.
LAURA
Don’t take it so personally.
GEORGE
It has to be personal. First, Gore gets it. Then, the very next one goes to Obama. They don’t even wait eight years. They want to make it very clear that George W. isn’t getting one.
LAURA
If you wanted a Nobel Prize, you should have started a long time ago.
GEORGE
I’m not making claims, but a little thanks – is that so bad? A thank you for being President.
LAURA
I keep telling you, George, don’t expect to be thanked. Just be wonderfully surprised when it happens.
GEORGE
I’ll be surprised all right.
LAURA
Try to relax, dear – and don’t do anything foolish.
GEORGE
You mean go off the wagon?
LAURA
Yes.
GEORGE
It’s tempting.
LAURA
Don’t give in.
GEORGE
Sometimes I really miss drinking.
LAURA
Giving up drinking is the best thing you’ve ever done.
GEORGE
Huh?
LAURA
In a personal way. That and giving up drugs.
GEORGE
I always miss them. Just as well, though. Being President would have killed me if I was snorting. Three days would have done it.
LAURA
And I would regret that.
GEORGE
Really?
LAURA
Deeply and forever.
GEORGE
Sometimes I don’t think so.
LAURA
What on earth could you mean?
GEORGE
You’ve been very critical since I left office. Not always directly, but in subtle ways.
LAURA
I’ve been honest with you, George. You should appreciate that. I can finally say what I think without worrying about protecting your image.
GEORGE
A little protection is okay. I could stand you protecting me.
LAURA
I protect my memory of you – and that isn’t easy.
GEORGE
I know I’m going to regret this (He steadies himself by grabbing the table) Why not?
LAURA
I remember when you were young, hot and a little dangerous.
GEORGE
(Breathes deeply and squares his shoulders) And now?
LAURA
I shouldn’t say.
GEORGE
You can’t stop now. The horse has left the station.
LAURA
Now, you’re old, cold and only dangerous when you use power tools.
GEORGE
Thanks a goddamned bunch, Laura. That really makes my morning. Thanks a whole lot. That really puts a cherry on it.
(George gets up to leave)
LAURA
Where are you going?
GEORGE
To clear some brush.
LAURA
We’re in Dallas, we don’t have brush.
GEORGE
Then I’m going to Crawford.
LAURA
George!
GEORGE
Don’t go? You take it all back and want me to stay?
LAURA
No, don’t use power tools.
(George shakes his head and mutters as he leaves.)
GEORGE
Of all the goddamned mornings.
___________________________________________________________
A brisk, October morning. Anthony Marshall, 85, and his wife, Charlene, 64, stand facing each other in the parlour of their seventeen-room Park Avenue duplex. Flames lick and rollover in the fireplace, but the temperature of the room remains arctic because Marshall has just been convicted on fourteen counts of Grand Larceny and Conspiracy to Defraud. He plundered the estate of his mother, 105-year-old heiress and philanthropist, Brooke Astor, while she was helpless from Alzheimer’s disease. Marshall is free on bail, but faces a sentence of up to twenty years. With his drooping eyes and sagging jowls, he looks like a bloodhound in a bespoke suit. Charlene looks like Liz Smith from Hell.
CHARLENE
If you get a good break, you’ll be out of Tehachapi in a couple years.
ANTHONY
Where?
CHARLENE
Tehachapi.
ANTHONY
Is that near Kykuit?
CHARLENE
I hope they don’t hang you, precious, by that sweet neck.
ANTHONY
This wasn’t a capital crime. The only hanging I’ll be doing is around.
CHARLENE
The chances are you’ll get twenty years. If you’re a good boy, you’ll get out in five. I can’t wait that long.
ANTHONY
Don’t, Charlene. Don’t say that even in fun. I was frightened for a minute. I really thought . . . You do such wild and unpredictable things.
CHARLENE
You’re taking the fall - and I’m taking a vacation. Liposuction here, botox there and Charlene’s got her groove back.
ANTHONY
You’ve been playing with me . . . You didn’t care at all. You don’t love me.
CHARLENE
I won’t play the sap for you.
ANTHONY
You know in your heart, In spite of everything I’ve done, I love you.
CHARLENE
I don’t care who loves who. I won’t play the sap. I won’t follow in Morrisey’s and I don’t know how many others’ footsteps.
ANTHONY
Morrisey was our lawyer. He followed in our footsteps.
CHARLENE
You robbed your mother and you’re going over for it.
ANTHONY
It was your idea!
CHARLENE
This won’t do any good. You’ll never understand me, but I’ll try once and then give up. I was already old when I met you. Now, I’m over the hill. My chances of finding another husband are slim to none. I can’t waste any of them waiting for you.
ANTHONY
But I won’t last in prison. You know that. You won’t be waiting long.
CHARLENE
Your mother lived to be one hundred and five under worse conditions.
ANTHONY
The conditions were your idea.
CHARLENE
The only reason I should wait is maybe you love me and maybe I love you.
ANTHONY
You know whether you love me or not.
CHARLENE
Maybe I do. I’ll have some rotten nights after they send you up the river, but that’ll pass.
ANTHONY
If my mother had died when she should have, twenty-five years ago, would you still feel this way?
CHARLENE
A lot more money would have been one more thing on your side of the scales.
(Anthony takes a poker and plants it in Charlene’s forehead. Then pours himself five fingers of 100-year old cognac, drinks and calls his lawyer.)
No comments:
Post a Comment