Scene 19
The tunnel beneath the pirate hideout.
Squire Moore: Well, now that that interruption has been dealt with, we may proceed.
Salmonella: Wait! Something else approaches!
Lord Fannyweather: Ah Christ....
Enter Dorian Mammeri, a tall man with aesthetically pleasing features many a mile removed from those of Squire Moore, who is a vole. However, these features seem to hide an indescribable darkness. He is dressed in a poncho, aviator sunglasses and an ironic t-shirt. On his shoulders he bears a backpack full of frisbees and the internet. He is followed by a gaggle of starving children.
Squire Moore: Why! If t'isn't me old pal, Dorian Mammeri! How goes it chum?
Dorian: Really cool man, what are you up to these days?
Squire Moore: Well I...
Dorian: That's totally interesting man. When I was in Nepal, this really wise old man.....
Several hours later
Dorian: . . . . . and I was like 'yeah, I'm totally trying to find myself too.'
Lord Fannyweather wakes from his doze.
Fannyweather: Hang on sorry, could you repeat that last line again?
Dorian: Gladly. I said to him 'Woah! dude! I'm like totally trying to find myself too.'
Fannyweather: Why do you hate the english language so much? What has it ever done to you?
Dorian: Look man, if you saw what I saw in East Wyoming, you wouldn't be asking me that.
Fannyweather: The phrase 'trying to find myself' means absolutely nothing. It is a massacre of meaning conducted by western backpackers on a collection of words, each individually containing some sort of meaning, but when grouped together meaning sweet fuck all. In fact, that phrase means less than nothing. It actually drains meaning from a conversation, rendering all involved lesser for the experience. It is a phrase that is born not in the brain, but in the bowels, from whence it emerges, dripping with excrement, to fling itself into an unexpecting and undeserving world like a malformed foetus from some sort of horrible experiment, a creature that manages to survive, despite posessing neither face nor brains.
Dorian: . . . . . .
Fannyweather: So matey, have you found yourself? Or should I say: Herble gerble murple?
Dorian: No, not yet, I think that . . . .
Fannyweather: Well, have you tried the kitchen? Hmm? Maybe the attic? Did you leave yourself there and then forget about it? Maybe you gave a loan of yourself to a friend? Or maybe you're under that pile of dusty textbooks in the office?
Dorian: Uhhhh...
Chaucer, Shakespeare and Dickens suddenly materialise from the aether. They look upon Dorian with disdain, piddle on him and fuck off.
Squire Moore: Well, crimes against communication notwithstanding, what brings you here?
Dorian: These things.
Dorian indicates a number of children, all younger than nine, wearing rags over their emaciated, nearly expired bodies
Squire Moore: Urgh! Yuck! What are they?
Dorian: The lower classes. Some of them followed me here. I thought you might find some use for them.
One of the ragamuffins coughs up blood and pipes up
Ragamuffin: Please Mr.Moore sir, we're quite ill and malnourished. We were hoping that because of your boundless wealth you could perchance spare a shilling?
Squire laughs at the dying child
Squire: Hahahahhaha! You lazy fucking peasant cunt, if you want shillings you just have to get a job, and to get a job all you need is to want one hard enough. Didn't you know that you little commoner oik! Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Ragamuffin: Sir, we're too ill to work. We used to work for you, in the mine. Then we got scurvy from lack of food because you said we weren't resourceful enough and denied us fruit for over a year.
One of the children dies from his scurvy. Squire Moore's laughing becomes louder and louder.
Squire: Did you see that idiot? He didn't want scurvy medicine hard enough and now he's dead. What a silly Plebeian. If he'd only rationally chosen to be an aristocrat like me instead of a street urchin! Get these creatures out of my sight before I puke.
Dorian: Yeah ok. Well, at least they might be able to help me find myself.
Exit Dorian and the starving children.
Squire Moore: Also, I hate Davey for some reason.
End Scene
