THE PLAYERS
Cat: stage left—sitting on hind legs, trembling a touch from the shock of the fall.
Snake: stage right—half-coiled around faux-stump and water bowl.
THE STAGE
40-gallon glass terrarium (needs a wash) upon gunmetal shelf in open closet.
Cat and Snake not seeming to realize Cat can leave by the way he fell in—the mesh having bent in in a (seemingly) obfuscatory manner.
__
Curtain up.
CAT: I apologize.
Rest assured, I will not dine on you, no.
Was only chilling there for the heat.
Y’know, from the heat lamp.
SNAKE: It is quite the lamp.
But this is certainly quite the violation.
Cat sneezing (cute sneeze, bubblegum-pitched, MEWCHOO).
CAT: I’m sorry, the musk, it’s sort of uhh unusual—
SNAKE: How would you like it, bum?
If I invaded your abode, like some…
some brownshirt?!
CAT: My abode—uhh the apartment—contains your abode.
Wouldn’t you say?
SNAKE: Stop bragging!
CAT: What?
Am I out of line?
SNAKE: Transgressor! Derelict!
CAT: Oh come on. Names, they do us nothing.
Why don’t we let’s make the most of this.
Snake hissing (sounds like a gas leak).
CAT: We hardly know each other.
After all.
SNAKE: Which is by design!
CAT: But we have an opportunity here—
if not an outright responsibility!
SNAKE: Shut the hell up!
CAT: Don’t you want to uhh make history?
SNAKE: Fuck history! What I want is to live in…
in stillness! Lounging.
I don’t want to think…
don’t want to have to think.
Not everyone’s cut out for a life of thought, y’know.
Like I’m a snake.
Water, mice, the lamp.
Wrapping myself around the occasional tattooed arm—
that’s good enough—that’s more than good enough for me.
In fact, I am quite fulfilled—
and then some!
…which is to say, this life of mine is already too much, at times!
CAT: OK, OK.
Sheesh.
SNAKES: Keep your verdicts to yourself!
Cat yawning (like a little [human] baby).
CAT: How long you think it’s been?
Since I uhh fell in?
SNAKE: Like 30 seconds, at most.
CAT: But who’s counting?
Cat laughing softly, briefly.
Then a beat.
Unsteady silence.
SNAKE: You want some water?
CAT: What’s that?
SNAKE: I said,
do you want some water?
CAT: Oh.
Yeah, OK.
Thanks.
Cat rising from hind legs, stretching to the fullest extent possible, walking pensive three inches to water bowl.
Cat staring into murky water for a moment.
Cat sipping: ncha ncha ncha ncha ncha.
SNAKE: Pretty good, right?
Cat quitting his sips, but with neck remaining in water bowl.
CAT: Um. Yeah.
Yeah, it’s not bad.
SNAKE: Not bad?
Cat craning neck back to normal cat-neck height.
[Remember! Cat is WAY closer to Snake now! -Ed.]
CAT: I mean.
It’s fine.
SNAKE: Just fine?
CAT: It’s OK.
SNAKE: So is it fine? or is it OK?
CAT: It’s fine.
It’s OK.
SNAKE: Uh huh.
Beat.
CAT: I mean, it sucks shit, dude.
Like the worst water I’ve had in my life.
Not a long life, I’m little.
But I’ve had plenty of water.
Don’t know how you drink this sludge all day.
[Beat.]
Is [ROOMMATE] taking care of you OK?
Like…
he should be changing this more.
SNAKE: You are the rudest being I’ve ever come across.
Just speechless.
CAT: I can see why you’re upset.
Why I’ve upset you.
[Beat.]
You’re right, I’m sorry.
But it’s coming from a place of uhh.
Well.
Genuine concern?
SNAKE: I don’t want to hear it!
CAT: It’s like when your friend tells you you stink.
Like, stink in the wrong way.
SNAKE: Stop talking!
CAT: Stings for a bit.
But your buddy was helping you live your best life.
Undeniably.
You never know, your future mate could show up at any time—and if you’re stinky?
I mean bad stinky? what then?
So, it’s really from a place of love.
SNAKE: Love? Love? Oh that’s fucking rich.
That’s real fucking rich.
CAT: And why do you have to be so, like…
like condescending?
SNAKE: You’ve belittled me since second one! of your stay.
CAT: Can’t win with you.
SNAKE: So you admit it.
CAT: What?
SNAKE: That you’re trying to win.
CAT: Cat-Jesus!
This is what I’m saying!
SNAKE: I loathe you.
CAT: Why!
What did I do!
Why live that way!
SNAKE: Intruder!
CAT: OK!
I’ll go back to my corner, then.
Await my rescue.
SNAKE: It’s not your corner.
CAT: [Under his breath] Ohmycatgod…
Fine fine, I’ll go back to thee corner.
SNAKE: You do that.
CAT: I will!
Cat does so, backing up (orange caboose).
Rescue will come eventually. (But time for our friends here—let’s just say it feels pretty funny!)
Curtain falls.
FIN
__________
Z.H. Gill lives in East Hollywood, CA, with his cat Hans. He edits Burial Magazine.