Is That For Here or to Go, Your Majesty?

The Real Fishmongers' Wives of Old York

by W. M. Shakespeare

Act I

Scene 1

(Dusk, York [the old one] -- Outside White Castle.  Enter Burgher, King, and MacDonald ragged, starved, and just returning from a Crusade in which they gave a few Semites what for. There is a scream from offstage.  Apprentice Wench tosses a lit lantern from a 2nd-story window, crashing it into several pieces.)


King:  But soft!  What light through yonder window breaks?
           Is it a beast? Or my nogoodnick son?
           Refudiate, my pale one, your sloth
           While I'm off smiting heathen, thou sleepest late!
           You won't amount to much at this cursed rate!


MacDonald:  T'was not your son, my Lord, but some apprentice wench.
                     Who let the lantern slip from her small hands unclenched.


King: Ye gods!  I need a break!  I'm so ferklempt.


MacDonald:  You deserve a break today, my Liege!


King:  Spoken like the gentle giant, that thou art, Big Mac.

MacDonald:  Yea, verily.

King   While  fighting for our faith in far-off lands
             How often did we dine atop our steeds?
             But now Aliyah! Today I am a man.
             I need not eat food o'rspread with sand
             Tonight it's beef and bread with sesame seeds!


Burgher:  Have it your way at!

King:  Burgher?

Burgher: King?

King:  Yes?


Burgher:  My Lord?


King: What meanst thou "Have it your way at?"


Burgher: Nothing, Majesty.  I spake one word too many.


(Enter Richie, III)


Richie, III:   Your Grace, you're back.  The royal flag shall be run up.
                   (holding his nose) Eegads!                     
                   Before you breach the palace wall to sup,
                   Methinks you and your men should get cleaned up.

.
King:  We haven't eaten for 3 days, Rich 3
           Except for hummus on the sea
           Never again shall I  falafel eat
           The heathen diet has not sufficient meat!
            Or not enough for proper Christian feet!
            I'm now so faint I'd trade my crown for a horse stew!


Richie, III:  A horse?  A horse?  Your kingdom for a horse!?


MacDonald:  But if one adds some blandishments...


Burgher:  Or better still, some condiments, it's not so bad.


MacDonald:  Horse is but a meal of super size

King:  Come gentlemen:  Eyes on the prize.
           Find our French cook! See what he fries!

Burgher:    What fries the Frenchman by the bye?
                  I say again, what doth the Frenchy fry?


MacDonald:  Speaking of fries, but no, let's say no more.


King:  We take our leave now.  Richie, hold the door.


Exeunt.
--------------

Act I

Scene 2

(Banquet Hall at White Castle.  Burgher, King, and MacDonald wait as Apprentice Wench serenades with lute and song). 

King: Old,  MacDonald when will our food arrive?

MacDonald:  Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow!

King: That's Tuesday by my reckoning!

Burgher: Well, order something else -- you are the king!


(Enter Richie, III, John of Wayne, the Duke, Ore, Regan, Yenta, and Chaim Yonkel followed by servers carrying heaping plates of food)

MacDonald:  Look, sire!  Dinner's here anon.


King:  If music be the food of love play on!
          Welcome, gentle guests, let's eat.

(They eat)

Ore: Here at White Castle, sup we all

Reagan: And yet, the portion's rather small.

Ore: It is White Castle, I recall.

King:  Ore and Reagan, all well spoken.
           Dine well, my guests, and now all feel
           Beside your plate, for each a token --
           A replica: the royal seal.

MacDonald:  O wond'rous King!
                      O Happy Meal!

Yenta: O, thank you, Sire, for these confections
            And for the toy for my collection.

The Duke:  Sire, I fear I do not understand

                   I'm at a loss.

                         

John of Wayne:  Why is it that you feel so, boss?

The Duke: While some meat here is unadorned,

                  Some of the guests have special sauce.

Chaim Yonkel: What is it you insinuate?

                          To each the same food to a plate --

                          To each two portions of all beef --

                          Special sauce,  pickles, lettuce leaf.

                          It's everything a man could need.

                      

King: And also buns with sesame seeds!

The Duke (to Yonkel):  Do not these charges gently toss.

                                      You over-spooned the special sauce! 

Yonkel: I never did, I swear upon your life!

The Duke:  The Yonkel protests too much methinks.

King: We'll take a vote and settle things.

          If Yonkel's guilty then vote "Nay."

          But vote thou "Aye" if he should stay.

         

Yonkel:  Hath not a Jew "ayes?"

John of Wayne:  Aye!

Ore:  Aye

Regan:  Aye

Richie, III: Present.

Yenta: Nay!  Nay!  Nay!

The Duke:  A Thousand times, nay!

King:  The "Ayes"  have it! You have but one vote, Duke.

The Duke: He is fishy, King, anon..

Chaim Yonkel:  I tell you, King that he's the fishy one.

King:    Enough!  I'm through with fish, you two!

             A lox on both your houses!

The Duke:  But, Majesty!

 

King:   Shusssssssh.  I want to hear her sing!

            What is thy name, child?

Apprentice Wench:  Wendy, my Lord

King: Sing, then Wendy,  Wendy, sing

          For MacDonald, Burgher,  King!

Apprentice Wench (sings):      

                   Shall I compare thee to a third-rate play?

                   Thou art more deadly and distemperate.

                    Ruffians do shake the milk all day,

                    And some cursed meade has no sell-by date.

The Duke:  What is the meaning of this strange song?

MacDonald: She is a spy, my Lord!

                     I see it all so clearly now, of course.

                     She seeks the secret of the sauce!

                     Her people have waged war upon the King!

                     How now avenge such treason'ous thing?

King:  The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

           Beyond that, I confess, I have no plan.

The Duke: T'was this conspiracy of two?

                  Yonkel, did she get help from you?

Chaim Yonkel: Oh sure!  When things go wrong, just blame the Jew.

The Duke: The wench, King, what shall be her station?

King: My chamber for interrogation.

Burgher:  Shall we follow you, your Highness?

King: No, you must stay and clear this mess.

          You and MacDonald both shall stay,

          And load thy plates upon these trays,

          And with this cloth shall do your best,

          To  clean all for our breakfast guests.

          Come, thou, Wendy, let's retire.

          You'll sing me lies upon thy lyre.

Apprentice Wench: To the high chamber by the spire?

King:  Girl!  We couldn't get much higher!

Apprentice Wench:  It's cold and dark there, my good, sire.

King: Fie! To the fireplace retire.

          Come now, Wendy, light my fire!

(Exeunt all but MacDonald and Burgher).

Burgher:  Look there! Some clumsy oaf, some foolish preen

                Hath cut his thumb upon this table's sheen.

                A stain so deep this cloth has never seen.

                Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean?
                We, two, fine burghers of the town
                Now forced to wipe this table down.  

MacDonald:  Hark! the royal dog, Spot, draws near.

                      He wants these morsels scattered here.

Burgher: Methinks that he will interfere!

MacDonald:  Out!  Out!  Damn Spot!

     

INTERMISSION

(Light refreshments available outside and also inside. Since there is no roof in the theatre, what's the diff?  Please have correct change.)

Act II

(Ensemble.  The serfs, led by the Head Serf, have entered White Castle brandishing  expired coupons. A food fight ensues).

The Duke: I am slain!

John of Wayne:  I am slain!

Ore: I am slain!

Regan: I am slain!

MacDonald:  I am slain!

Burgher: I am slain!

King: I am slain!

Richie, III: Is this a dream? I'll pinch my vein

                  No!  Not a dream!  I, too, am slain!

Yenta:  If you're all slain why do you all speak yet?

Chaim Yonkel:  The King is dead!

Yenta: And what's more, Yonkel, look at all these stains!

Head Serf: Sic Semper Tyranis!

Chaim Yonkel: Hic, Haec, Hoc!


Head Serf: Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres!

Chaim Yonkel:  Huius, huius, huius!

Yenta:   Yo ho!  Latino!  What man are you?

Head Serf:  Having freed you all from slavery,

                   The people with their bravery

                   Have chosen for them a new king; it is I.

                   The old king was himself a spy.

                   And cur, to boot, with the morals of a fly.

             

King:  Hello?  My people, I'm  still in the room.

Head Serf:  He speaks an infinite deal of nothing.

Chaim Yonkel:  Still not too bad for a dead king.

King: (whispering)       We're not dead, you fool, you fiend!

                                     We're playing at it in this scene.

                                     When the Serf is all alone,

                                     We pounce and then regain the throne.

Chaim Yonkel:  I thought you looked a little green

                           For royal dead people, I mean.

MacDonald: (whispering)  Distract the Serf and gain his trust.

Yenta: Look! The royal hounds approach!

Head Serf: Then gather up the food left here.

                  Divide it in those satchels there.

                  Some meals stay here, some we take out.
                  They travel well, I have no doubt.

                 

Yenta:  How do you call yourself, serf guy?

Head Serf: My name is Brutus, by the bye.
                   I charge thee, me do not defy.

                   I shall arrest you, otherwise.

Chaim Yonkel:  Deja vu, alack alay.

                          Je vous dis:   "Et tu, Brutai?"

John of Wayne:  I am slain!

Yenta:  Oh, please, Sir John!  Not that refrain!

(Exeunt omnes except for the slain people).

Act III

(The Banquet Hall, White Castle. Yonkel has just finished lunch with his father's ghost, who skipped on the check, because he was unhappy with the service).

Chaim Yonkel:  Between Act II and this Act III
                          There's been a bit of history.
                          The King's restored to his past glory.
                          The serf has fled, another story.
                          His treason was the final straw.
                          In fact, he took them all, I saw,
                          And also, extra napkins, too.
                          Some have no scruples, what to do?
                          White Castle still stands for a cause
                          With drink aplenty, but no straws.
                          Still standing as the star of fables,
                          Where guests are thank'd to clean the tables.
                          And at the end of the disorder,
                          I saw my father's ghost off at the border.
                          He seem'd grim,  they'd mix'd his order --
                          Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
                          He had cleary asked for black magpie.
                          I told him, father, do not rage
                         Against folk who for min'mum wage
                         Strive mightily for daily bread.
                         Quoth he:  "Why should I care? I'm dead."
                         "Do not dispute a spirit's brays.
                         "It's hard to get good help these days!"

(Enter Ore)

Ore:           Was that your father's ghost I saw?
                   Riding off to untamed lands
                   With a cup of hot meade in his hand?

Yonkel:  Indeed, good Ore, that ghost's a sap
              "The meade is hot!" to him I cry'd.
               "You cannot both drink meade and ride!"
                Of course, he pour'd it on his lap!

Ore:  If only he had known the meade was hot!
         If only he'd been warned a lot!
         If but the warning was not hid,
         Or perhaps printed on the lid.

Yonkel: Not to be rude, Ore; Don't think ill of me;
              I've got to finish this solioquy.

Ore:  Then I take my leave at once.
          Adieu, adieu. Parting is such sweet sorrow.
         

(Exit).

Yonkel: And so our play is neatly done.
              Each had a meal, each had some fun.
              If we shadows made you woozy,
              That's your bad luck, I say, so sue me.
(Exit)

The End

Epilogue

John of Wayne:  I am slain!

Noseys Here, There, And Everywhere.

SPOILER ALERT! We're all going to die someday!

After ten years of marriage, his eye had begun to wander.  The opthamologist said it was fixable with a minor procedure, but the insurance was putting up resistance.

She didn't want to believe that anything had changed until the day she discovered the unusual lint clinging to one of his shirts.  It had the look and feel of a moon rock, the kind she remembered seeing at the Smithsonian once while getting terribly lost looking for Martha Washington's dress (no one had bothered to tell her that the dress wasn't in the Air and Space Museum). Later, a washing machine repairman would confirm for her that the "lint" was, in fact, a moon rock, and doubtless, the cause of the drainage failure during the spin cycle.  "Do not, under any circumstances, put this in the dryer," he would say to her.

Her mind was racing.  What was she do do now? She had a thousand questions, but really, it was just the same question turning somersaults over and over in her head and making her nauseous.  Something (perhaps the rock in her mouth) kept her from uttering what was on her mind: "If I can't use the dryer, then what?  Clothesline?"

She gave the repairman a quizzical look.  Characteristic of someone whose parents had been remiss in the instruction of manners, he accepted it without bothering to say "Thanks."  Yet, it were as though he could read her mind.  He pointed to the legend underneath the name tag of his uniform that read: "Fixing washing machines only.  Do not ask me about dryers.  Or moon rocks."

The stony (some might say "rocky") silence was broken by the piercing shrill cry of the telephone.  It was her next-door neighbor's, whose ringer was so loud it could be heard down the block.  Her own phone, meanwhile, was resting comfortably in its cradle, sleeping off the tumult of the night  before  when the ASPCA had called 9 times in rapid succession due to a computer error.

She looked back at the repairman's name tag, and, all in an instant, she realized that his name was Ralf, not "Rolf," as she could have sworn the dispatcher had said earlier.

Ralf handed her a bill for services rendered, but she waved it away dismissively. "You need to take this up with my husband.  He lives here, too," she said.

The words had no sooner left her mouth and reached the mailbox at the corner when "He" arrived home and saw the two of them going over the care instructions for the washer's bent blade.

The two men sized each other up.  They were both about 5' 11" in their stocking feet, despite the fact that neither of them owned or had ever wore a pair of stockings, and wouldn't even know how to put them on.  It was one of life's little ironies. Minuscule, in fact.

"Name's Ralf," said Ralf.  "Didn't catch yours."

"It's Mister," came the reply.  "Mistahr Mister."  A quick glance at his personal checkbook verified that he was telling the truth:

Mr. Mistahr Mister
39 Tounginsheek St.
Anytown, USA 02461

Annoyingly, as so often happens at times like these, the bank had left off the phone number, but Mistahr dutifully complied  with Ralf's request to write it in by hand. Ralf then took the check and wrote several numbers and letters at the top. He then folded the check in two, and, after examining it again, handed it back to Mistahr, and asked him to sign it.  Mistahr did so, folded the check again, and then handed it back to Ralf. For a moment, it seemed that they might have a parlor game of "Celebrity" in the offing, but that was the end of it, and Ralf quickly tucked the check in his vest and was out the door with a wink, leaving behind a screwdriver in a little plastic case with a sticker on it that said: "Stolen from Walinsky Washing Machine Service and Repair,"  which was interesting because Ralf worked for Haimishe's Washing Machine Service and Repair.

They watched him go and then strode into the sitting room without speaking, they didn't need to; their legs propelled them forward in a sort of walking motion that they had learned when both were toddlers. All these many years later, they still got around in small, enclosed spaces in this fashion.

No mention was made of the moon rock.  Or the screwdriver. Or the bill, which Mistahr had already set ablaze with a match and dumped in the cat's water dish, so that, however momentarily, if one used one's imagination, one could regard the miniature inferno as a reenactment of some ancient  Roman naval battle, instead of just a crumpled ball of paper on fire in a bowl of water on the floor, bumming out the cat.

They settled into the couch and fixed their respective gazes on the wall. But, soon realizing that they couldn't see the sunset that way, they adjusted their gazes ever so slightly, fixing them, instead, on the window.

After that, they patted each others' knees gently, content in the knowledge that, even though nothing else in the world was certain, they could always count on everything being Israel's fault.     

The People Are So Hungry for Change, They Could Eat a Dime.

IN THE COURT OF PUBIC OPINION

MIDDLE-EASTERN DIVISION

Civil Action Number 11-02-01-SHS

____________________________________________

THE PEOPLE

Plaintiff,

v.

THE STABLISHED ORDER

Defendant.

___________________________________________

VERIFIED COMPLAINT AND JURY DEMAND

Parties

1.     The Plaintiff, the People, a/k/a the "Body Politic" (hereinafter, the "People"), can be found wherever fine products are sold.

2.     The defendant, the Stablished Order (hereinafter,  "SO?"), is, upon information and belief, always throwing cold water on things, although, it means well.

Jurisdiction and Venue

3.     This Court has subject matter jurisdiction over this matter, as it does every matter.

4.      Insofar as venue is concerned, ditto.

Factual Statement

5.     On or about the date in question, the People were on the pavement, thinkin' about the government.

6.     Suddenly, and without warning (hence "suddenly"), SO?, disguised as a man in a trench coat, badge out, laid off,  said he got a bad cough and wanted to get it paid off.

7.     The people said, "This shall not stand."

8.     SO?,  aforesaid,  said, "Sad, sad, sad.  This is all very sad."

Statement of Claims

Count I

(Breach of Confidence)

9.      The People restate, re-allege, and incorporate herein by reference all previous paragraphs of this Verified Complaint.

10.      The People are restless and have no confidence in anything anymore, except for the Weather Channel, whose predictions have been spot on as of late.

11.     SO? knew, or shouldda known that this would happen.

12.   As a result thereof, plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

Count II

(Confidence Game)

13.    The People restate, re-allege, and incorporate herein by reference all previous paragraphs of this Verified Complaint, except for the one that says "ditto."

14.    Ditto.

15.     SO? what ('ll it be)?

16.     What will be.

17.    Que sera, sera.

18.    All in violation of 18 U.S.C sec. 11; 23 U.C.L.A. 42, and 5 U.C.I.T.O.L.D.U.S.O. 22.

19.    As a result thereof, those who fail to learn from history will have to take it again next year. 

PRAYERS FOR RELIEF

WHEREFORE, the People pray that this Honorable Court grant the following relief:

(a) Enter one or more orders against the defendant and its fellow-travelers enjoining and restraining them all from business as usual until further Order of the Court;

(b) Enter one or more orders against the defendant mandating that the seltzer available from sympathizers and on-lookers alike, as well as that sprayed from fire hoses, be only of the finest quality and grade (but not light, sweet crude!), and not flavored with fake chemical lemon crap (that so ruins the experience);

(c) Enter judgment for the People and against the defendant  (we prefer small denominations in unmarked bills, please, and none that have some schmendrick's locker combination written on the corner in blue ink);

(d) Enter such other further relief as this Court, in its infinite wisdom and grandiosity, deems equitable and just.

JURY DEMAND

     The People demand a trial by jury on all counts so triable.  On all other counts, please text your decision to 1-800-Idol-4 (a small charge of $3.57/minute will apply).

                                                                                              

                                                            THE PEOPLE,

                                                             By their Attorneys,

                                                                                        

                                                             Mandelbaum, O'Reilly & O'Bama, LLP

                                                             123 Whatarewefightingfor Lane

                                                             Noseyville, Noseyland

VERIFICATION

     We, the People, in order to form a more perfect union, promote the general welfare, and provide for the common defense, do hereby declare that all that is, is, and all that is not, is not, and this Complaint makes about as much sense as anything else we've seen.

 

  Signed under pain of having to sit through an entire performance of "Riverdance" if we're not telling it like it is.

                                                                                           _________________                                                                                              The People

                                                                                             

No, you are not delusional. People ARE always staring at you oddly. What are the reasons for this? We break them down for you graphically.

Can We Be Frank? Nobody Understands Poetry. Nobody Understands String Theory, Either. But You Don't Look Like an Ignoramus Not Understanding String Theory.

Tobias Mindernickel's newly-released magnum opus,  "Me, Myself, I, & Friends," has the vanity press tripping all over itself to sing its praises, with one anonymous critic claiming, "It encapsulates the entire poetic form from Homer to the present day. Indeed, it is the ne plus ultra. To read it is to understand everything." -- TM.

Whoever TM is, that person has exposed once and for all the ugly truth about poetry and its shadowy network: Not only does the emperor have no clothes, he is running buck naked through the streets and screaming like a banchee.

Persons of goodwill have suspected as much for thousands of years, but have long been afraid to admit it in polite society.  Now, aided by the instantaneous global electronic dissemination of thought and the lack thereof, Mindernickel's explosive arrival on the scene has heralded the winter of our discontent. Overnight, the world has changed. Ancient literary regimes are falling like dominoes, testament, indeed, to the unintended consequences of the "send" button. 

Here is the straw that sent the camel to the camel chiropractor and parented a revolution:

Life, Death, And Everything in Between

I came home from the fishmonger's
To discover that my doppelganger
Had locked himself in the master bathroom.

I cried out to the gods:
"Oy vey zmir!
This is unjust on so many levels!"
The gods did not hear my cry.

And so I wept for the half-finished acrostic
In the 3 month-old Harpers
Now locked away from me so cruelly
Together with the only working pen in the house.

I pounded on the door with a plaintive query,
To wit:  "How long are you going to be in there?"
And was met with the icy silence of indifference.

In an instant, what was mine
Had been snatched from me,
The way a crow snatches a robin's egg
For no other reason
Than that he can.

Life is surely unfair.
First, my doppelganger gets more girls than I do,
And now this!

I dream of what could have been.
If only I had been,
Could have seen,
Coulda, shoulda, woulda.

Carpe diem
Carpe[t] cleaning
Carp[e] from the fishmonger -- kosher* 
Catfish, not.

Yesterday, I was home all day.
If my doppelganger had come then,
Everything would have been different.
Oh, what a difference a day makes
Twenty-four little hours! 

---------------------------------------

In less time than it takes to say: "Tobias Mindernickel has announced that he will not be a candidate in the next election," this oeuvre has become the emblem of a new era. Some have dubbed it "Post, Post-Modernist," others, "The After-Party."

Whatever we call it, this much cannot be denied: The world we knew is no more. There is no turning back now -- that would mean Recalculating Route. 

And if we have to listen to that metallic voice one more time, we will probably fly off the handle, I swear!

 ___________________________________________

*Source: Kashrut.com     

Nature Abhors a Vacuum, And So Does the Cat.