Turning Point: The Art of Story

Sample Work by Carol Hebald

From Delusion of Grandeur

Coney Island
on a Summer Sunday afternoon.
A slow Sun
is beginning to struggle out of the clouds;
yesterday it rained.
The FAT LADY
sits in her Cage like a clown,
the corners of her mouth turned down.
Her hair is yellow straw;
she weighs four hundred and eighty-four.
Fat flies buzzing around settle on her cheeks.

In a neighboring Cage
a PANTHERESS horses around in a dance
to the glee of a thin, gray-toned CHILD.
Each time PANTHERESS lifts her leg,
the CHILD lets out cries of joy
just like a little savage.
Beside her stands her daddy,
The IGNORANT/INNOCENT BYSTANDER
of thirty-three.
A strong growth of red, prickly hair
sprouts from his open shirt.
His plump wife plays with the penguins down the lane.

In a Cage
on FAT LADY'S right
sits an ELEPHANT WITH TWO TRUNKS:
one tenor and one bass.
Diagonally opposite is an empty Bench.

An ORGANGRINDER and MONKEY pass by.
Ferries are tooting, and chimes have broken out.
A big beast of a pigeon glistens as it struts in the Sun.

BYSTANDER'S CHILD
(To her father, regarding PANTHERESS):
Watch how fierce she is! She wants to play!

FAT LADY
(Absolutely furious with her competition, removes a mirrored compact from her pocket.)
I have a ten-foot pimple on my nose.
(She powders it, muttering):
I'll change that.
(Singing for her supper):
With a pimple on my conscience, and a dimple on my cheek ...
(Calls out):
Step right up, folks! I'll show you Energy, heated by Emotion, charged with the Will,
and directed by the Intellect.
(Disgusted by her failure, she turns to ELEPHANT on her Right.)
There must be easier ways of making a living than this. I'd've become a hooker,
but I couldn't stand those goddamn stairs.
(Having overheard FAT LADY, BYSTANDER observes her pocket her compact & growl for attention. As CHILD shrieks & claps hands over PANTHERESS, FAT LADY steps Cage Center, removes a slim dagger from her boot, lights the tip & tries to swallow the flame, but it dies in mid-air. Finally aiming it at her heart, she catches BYSTANDER'S eye. He saunters over to her Cage, & tosses her a peanut.)

FAT LADY
Thanks.
(She eats it.)
Is that your wife over there waddling after the penguins?

BYSTANDER
Yes.

FAT LADY
Well she has sick cats in her behind and I hate her.
(BYSTANDER rewards her with another peanut.)
I not only hate her, I hate you.

BYSTANDER
(Poised to throw another):
Pardon? You hate whom?

FAT LADY
I not only hate whom, I hate them.
(She indicates spectators. Delighted by her honesty, he is her captive audience now.)
On top of which, Mister-

BYSTANDER
Call me Hermie, just plain Hermie.
(He hands her a brown paper bag.)
Here: you like pastrami? I just bought it-recently. You'll eat later.

FAT LADY
Thanks, Hermie.

BYSTANDER
So what's the matter?

FAT LADY
I don't know from what to die.
(She sighs, fanning away the flies.)
Yesterday I ordered my grave plot;
I figure I'm nice clientele.
Doesn't mean a thing anymore.
And the plot itself? Its location and size,
the quality of the worms,
to say nothing of the neighbors:
Highway robbery on sale.

BYSTANDER
I understand from what you say that you're not enjoying yourself.

FAT LADY
Can you elaborate on that?

BYSTANDER
Who me?

FAT LADY
Excuse me;
I don't know who you are, but you're terribly funny.

BYSTANDER
Kind of guy I am.
See, I understand you; I hold a degree.
(His CHILD wanders over to him.)

FAT LADY
I see;
allow me to introduce myself: Miss Matzo, 1953.

BYSTANDER
Who?

CHILD
(Tugging at his pants):
Come on, Daddy.

BYSTANDER'S WIFE
(Calls):
Hermie, it's time to eat.

FAT LADY
(To CHILD):
How old are you?

CHILD
I'm seven.

FAT LADY
You married?

BYSTANDER
Take care!
(CHILD pulls father off, as ELEPHANT hooks
tenor trunk over FAT LADY'S Cage, and pokes her with it.)

FAT LADY
(To the dwindling CROWD):
I am the most provoking still-life
you will ever have
the misfortune to meet.
(CROWD wanders off; she relaxes and sighs):
It's all right, I don't mind. Rest is important, too.
And I like it here: Everybody notices me.
(She opens pastrami sandwich, gives half to ELEPHANT, who withdraws trunk and eats.)
A man comes here sometimes, nicer than Hermie. He sits on that bench just watching me,
figuring me out quietly for a long time. Then I catch his eye and we smile.
Later he gets up, excuses himself,
and goes away. And I just stay here all night long and talk to the different people I've known.
(She takes a bite of pastrami; turns to PANTHERESS):
You're not hungry, are you?
(PANTHERESS nuzzles sleepily into her fur.)
Look at that!--Came out in one fur, eats and sleeps in it
and she's happy.
(PIGEON struts up to her Cage.)
You're cute too ...Yes you are!
Not like that scrawny kid with her daddy. I was never scrawny, not me.
My daddy'd been dead a year when I began asking strangers on the street if they'd seen him. Not everyone had time to listen.
They ran away from me
in the dead of winter, the cold. Summertime was different; strangers are nicer in the heat. As a kid I loved the summer.
Those starry nights under the boardwalk during the Second World War
when Pearl Harbor was the chick the Japs attacked with their spears.
I used to kind of
roam around and wander up and smile: "Lonesome, sailor?" I'd ask.
Some of them were.
So I offered to figure them out. We'd stop under the boardwalk and spend time, fool around;
it was nice. Some told sad stories. One man bought me a jelly apple "Just for listenin'."
(She bites into her pickle. GENTLEMAN/STRANGER enters in sunglasses and raincoat. He sits on the Bench, diagonally opposite her Cage.)
He's come! He's come again just to watch me.
If I could only break out of this Cage, I'd sit down next to him.
But I wouldn't know what to say: A my name is Alice?
My name isn't Alice!
I mean, where would I begin?