1. Christine Lavosky
A SHORT PLAY OR MOVIE ON FIGURE EIGHTS
Scene 5
[int. train]
MUSIC
Swan Lake, Op.20, Act II: 10. through a dust-infested
phonograph which is set at a speed slower than that which
the composer of the song would be content with. It lags.
The song is played in the background, does not take over
scene, does not impede passenger’s thoughts, only just
grazes their subconsciousness. If it needs to be looped, a
letter must be written to Sir Gale Peterson at the
institute requesting permission. The phonograph can be
brought out from our theatrical storage unit in Astoria.
ART DIRECTION
Poker eyes peeking out from behind
mildewy pages or perhaps
a yellowed newspaper
Cracked binding
Bleeding inklings
Tumbling tracks
Weaving girlish waitress clinking
glasses together on a tray
Man’s voice crackling over the speaker
or perhaps he is just crumpling paper
New Haven
Or
Tahiti?
Red velvet seats
Silver forks slicing into
berries Financier
Pinky ring dangling
Clanking into neighboring gem, ring finger
Blue smoke hanging over playing cards,
plates of goose liver paté, tea cups
Pinkies pointing upwards, to the low ceilings
Crowded ashtrays

2. Tables covered in lavish rubble
Take great care that
windows are fogged
welded shut
Dress the players in
thick ties, block colors, some bows
Tiny cloche hats, mostly crimson
but some ochre
Indigo carpets zip along walls
Tight, enclosed folds
Make sure air is stagnant
and eyes always open
Round spectacles pushed upwards by nubby fingers
Lithe legs crossed
Crisp collars standing up all on their own
A bothersome child’s whispering lisp
received by an eye-rolling mother
A light
snaking in through window corners
gallops off a scalloped-edged dress
in a glossy magazine
LINES
No one speaks
except for the lisp whisperer
Until a grey-bearded UNCLE GREG
taking his niece, JILLIAN, on a trip
asks (as if it is all her fault)
“Where is this all goi-”
He is silenced mid-line by a
storm of cicadas which
pour out in torrential droves
from his shocked lips
shaped in a perfect “O”
Fights meet fights
In the next car over
a woman sits
hears the cicadas disruptive buzzing
But doesn’t hear what is seen
Hears an electrical spasm
A malfunction with the train’s wiring,

3. She, SALLY
flails at the window with weak arms
growing stronger
Pushing, nudging, grunting
When open, sees not a damaged engine,
but instead, reality
Where she was going was
where she had been
the whole time
Hours or possibly decades
spent on a
train moving in figure eights
On pre-determined tracks with
passengers oblivious
A blind belief in progression
Cracking the window open
a bit more
SALLY sees
A MAN on a bicycle
Much taller than her own
training-wheel-attached machine
An apparatus (his) looking like it belonged in a circus
She wonders, her thoughts falling out
Into the air
Questioning her bill-stuffed satchel
(Wondering where it failed her)
Questioning
How did he get up there?
NOTES
[The timing of the cicada’s interruption must be perfect,
exactly on the “I” sound of the word “going.” However, due
to our company’s dedication to insect rights, it must never
be rehearsed with the insects so as to preserve the lives
of as many cicadas as possible. Cicadas will only be
purchased for the final take of this scene, or any live
performance with more than fifty ticket-holders. This
should be kept in mind when casting the role of UNCLE GREG.
The bicycle must only be obtained through theft using
whatever methods available to the props department. Do not
under any circumstances give the biker anything for the
bike.]