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a new way of looking at... writings >> alain guillemin >> polichinelle's cellar - 1 |
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STORYTELLER It's the story of Polichinelle, a very nasty character from deep deep down in France, with a hump on the back, and a nose and a chin that point at each other like the beak of a hawk or, to be slightly nicer, of a parrot. POLICHINELLE (beaten up) Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Have pity, Missus! Don't rub my hump that way. I'm all covered with bumps and wounds. My nose and all my bumps and humps are like hooks and I whistle like a bird. Please don't pounce on me and pluck my feathers. MELANIE Lazy bum! Liar! Good for nothing! Rotten egg! You should be working like a slave and slog along, old retired and humped Polichinelle. You deserve to be laughed and bantered at, since you're sponging off me, ugly little bird with your beak that looks like a hook. POLICHINELLE Stop it! I don't have all those titles. I am a rare bird and you plucked my feathers. You knew that you were marrying me with my humps and bumps, my parrotlike colors and my odd sort of a voice. Fine feathers make fine birds but mottled feathers make a Polichinelle that snuggles up to a bottle all evening. MELANIE Why didn't I marry a bird of paradise, an honest Christian? POLICHINELLE Why not a priest, a saint, a monk, a rich fatso in a well-feathered nest. But you ruined me, you robbed me, you fleeced me. You are not that virtuous. MELANIE Now, just a minute, there! You were young, beautiful and courteous, a young rooster, singing all the time. Now you're an old, ranting and raving, sneezing snot, and what's more you stink. POLICHINELLE O could I still be young! Like you, my dearest honey pie, like you, seventy-five, at the very least, if we are to stick to official documents! My wife is so lazy that she doesn't do anything, not even act her age. MELANIE Shut up, you, old Simple Simon! Let your humps wobble along, drop your stick and turn it into an old age prop. As for me, I'm going to remarry with a nice, very nice, very very nice handsome young man. I'm going to knock about the world while you knock off into oblivion with your damned humps. POLICHINELLE Goodbye Mélanie, you will still think of my bicorne and mis-shapen bicornuous mind, of my double hump and demented body, of my hooked (pronounce hookid) nose and crooked chin. MELANIE Bicornuous, demented, hooked and crooked. What an old fool. You'll sure be cheated, deceived and cuckolded. (She goes out.) POLICHINELLE Bon voyage! Let the fair wind push you away. She tricked me, abominably. Alas! Alas! I just have to hang myself. Your forked tongue told me the worst I could expect. Let me hang. She once put a halter around my neck and since then I've had the devil's own luck. Let me hang. I'm worn out threadbare. I'm all tied up in my fate. Let me hang. Requiem! Requiem! Wooden box and deep hole! Put me in an old sack with some barking dogs and ringing pans. I've always been an out and out gallows bird. Here is a running knot. I'm gonna jump over nothing and do a somersault. But I'll find you again, Mélanie, in the tunnels, the boring bores of Hell. My throat is sensitive and tender. I am going to sharpen my whistle. I've had it coming to me, I'm due for it. they've been keeping it in store for me. And I'm gonna hang from the ceiling. (He hangs himself.) FIRST BIRD Caw! Caw! Caw! I'm cawing at that charming sight. That's what I call being perched, roosted. SECOND BIRD Mélanie will make her nest cosy, or will it be her bed? It's said that beautiful feathers make beautiful birds. She will for sure tell obscenities about him. Wild raving fits very dark ravens that unravel life in a fit of ravaging rage. THIRD BIRD Look at the bird on his strange roost. Is he going to hang or to fall? But here comes Mr Grossman the grocer. Let the grocer go, Let the grocer go to some promised land. GROSSMAN Here I am outside Mr Polichinelle's. All is peaceful in here. But is he here? I must bag that money of mine back into my sack. Debts are like money hanging over one's head. (He knocks.) Mister Polichinelle. I'm coming for the money you owe me. The money you owe me and its interest. POLICHINELLE Consider, dear sir, the difficult and yet little inspiring position I'm in. GROSSMAN That's true. Help, someone. He's hanging. He must've hanged himself. POLICHINELLE Is he gonna prevent me from dying, this starvation army. Do I need a grocer at such an engrossing moment? GROSSMAN (He comes back with the mendicant friar.) Come along brother, come and save the soul of this hanged man. Think of it: to hang himself when he owes me money. How badly behaved. FRIAR Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa. Confess your sins and think of death. Polichinelle, hang on and repent. POLICHINELLE Well, I'm through with hanging. Better hang around with life and hang together with my soul. Brother I'm a hangdog: I contracted debts at the grocer's, Mr Grossman. I hit my wife too often. I lied more than once. I stole many an apple. Neither more nor less than anyone else, who I can from here bless with my feet. I'm sorry but my whistle is sore. May you be able to see my face. And may you be able to see yours. Don't choke. You're wearing silk ties. My tie is made of hemp. And smoking a few leaves of that hemps would be nice. But alas, in a moment you'll share the rope I hanged myself with. That's for good luck, the devil's own luck. And think of the antlers I'm wearing on my head. Cuckold! Cuckold cries the cuckoo bird who lays his eggs in other people's nests. My soul is uplifted by such a prospect. FRIAR You're damned! Damned! And I'm being merciful. POLICHINELLE Damnation! Bloody old damnation! Let me swing on my rope. (He kicks him) FRIAR Mercy and pity stink. Let the grocer dispatch you on the road to hell. Because debts don't lead to heaven. So go to hell and blazes. Here I go away from this perambulating graveyard. POLICHINELLE I'll give him a hell of a welcome. GROSSMAN Despicable person. You take it from ahigh, do you not? But you should come back to earth and pay me back my money. My money. POLICHINELLE Don't worry, I've mentioned you in my will. GROSSMAN No, that won't do. Give back now or I kill you. POLICHINELLE Oh, yes, please, and I'll owe you something forever. But well, I guess, it's hard to die. I'm trying to hang myself and I'm messing it all up. GROSSMAN Well, die, then. STORYTELLER And he pulls him by the feet. GROSSMAN Bad customer. You've pushed too much on your luck. let me pull on it. POLICHINELLE Harder, please, harder. Chime me to the moon, like a bell. STORYTELLER And the rope breaks and our Polichinelle falls down back on earth, in fact right onto the back of the grocer. |