Page 49 - June 2021 Litterateur
P. 49

WALLY
                                                                    (visibly shaken)
                   It’s not fair! He had so much further to go. (Pause) I guess the little fellow went out in his
                   prime, hitting his stride. You can’t ask for a more noble death.


                                                                        MYRTLE
                   What? Spinning himself into a grave is a noble death?


                                                                         WALLY
                   Why can’t you offer me some comfort? I loved Telemachus much more than you’ll ever know.

                   (MYRTLE skates up behind WALLY and puts her arms around his neck)


                                                                        MYRTLE
                   Yes, I know.


                                                                         WALLY
                   I felt…..I felt as if you’d given birth to him, Myrtle, that he was really my son.

                                                                        MYRTLE

                   Oh, Wally, that’s disgusting.

                                                                         WALLY
                   How can you call love disgusting?


                                                                        MYRTLE
                   Love’s not disgusting but the papers on the bottom of his cage are. If you felt so strongly
                   about Telemachus how come I always had to change the papers?


                                                                         WALLY
                   He was my baby, my baby. I always thought of him as a tiny Rumplestiltskin, majestically at
                   his wheel, spinning out golden love.


                                                                        MYRTLE
                   He did have a rather strong smell, Wally.



                                                                         WALLY
                                                                        (in tears)
                   He was a good boy. A hard working boy.


                                                                        MYRTLE
                   But he never got anywhere, Wally. Do you think Telemachus lived a full life?

                                                                         WALLY

                                                                         (jolted)
                   Of course he did! What kind of nonsense are you talking?

                                                                        MYRTLE

                   He lived in a cage, Wally.
                                                                 Litterateur                                                49


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