An Iraqi exploding conversation...
(A group of Iraqi men and women, old and young sit outside a café smoking and drinking coffee.)
Open the play [+/-]
ONE: I was born on the day the tanks first...
TWO: ...rolled?
ONE: Yes. Into Kuwait.
TWO: All those years ago-
THREE: Seems like yesterday.
TWO: -upon the blistering desert sands my father raised his hands in surrender.
THREE: I too raised my hands. They-
TWO: Yes.
THREE: -only thought I was surrendering…
TWO: Yes.
THREE: I was praying.
TWO: Praying.
FIVE: Praying. Yes.
FOUR: Americans and their tanks and jeeps and humvees and guns and bombs-
SIX: -were everywhere then.
FOUR: Yes. Like locust.
ONE: For a short time English was the regions second language.
SIX: Today.
ONE: Today it is.
SIX: English speaking infidel.
FIVE: We, my father and our friends, were nothing more than puppets for Saddam-
SIX: Yes.
FIVE: -and Saddam was the American puppet.
SIX: Yes.
TWO: We were so afraid they would invade our land and take our pride and lives and oil... but they just left.
ONE: Yes. They left us to the wrath of sanctions.
FOUR: They can have the goddamned oil!
FIVE: Yes.
TWO: So many died.
THREE: So many-
FOUR: -children.
(A sound now begins to cut through the peace. It is a droning noise with an eerie, nightmarish quality to its tone. From here forward the noise increases until, by the end of the play, it fills the stage.)
THREE: The children. Yes.
FOUR: -died… so many.
FIVE: This time around America has been much more efficient.
SIX: Quicker.
FIVE: Deadlier.
ONE: Sanctions were a…
TWO: …a creeping death?
ONE: Yes. …Occupation is…
TWO: …a swooping death?
ONE: Yes.
FOUR: Civil…
THREE: Civil war.
FOUR. Yes.
SIX: The US war machine is like no other in history.
FIVE: They brag about it.
SIX: Yes.
THREE: Crow and crow and crow about it.
ONE: It's a- a-
TWO: -a nasty bird?
ONE: ...No.
TWO: Terrible?
THREE: It's an awful sounding bird?
TWO: Caw! Caw!
ONE: Yes. But-
FOUR: Loud. It's a loud bird.
ONE: No. No. It's-
FIVE: Shrill as a war machine.
ONE: Yes, but- No. It's-
FIVE: Shrill as…
TWO: …empire.
ONE: No. It's...
SIX: Yes?
THREE: Awful as occupation?
SIX: Yes.
THREE: Loud as civil war?
FIVE: Yes.
(Blackout! The noise is deafening. After a moment it suddenly stops and from the darkness we hear ONE's voice ring out.)
ONE: Ugly.
The end.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
(A group of Iraqi men and women, old and young sit outside a café smoking and drinking coffee.)
Open the play [+/-]
ONE: I was born on the day the tanks first...
TWO: ...rolled?
ONE: Yes. Into Kuwait.
TWO: All those years ago-
THREE: Seems like yesterday.
TWO: -upon the blistering desert sands my father raised his hands in surrender.
THREE: I too raised my hands. They-
TWO: Yes.
THREE: -only thought I was surrendering…
TWO: Yes.
THREE: I was praying.
TWO: Praying.
FIVE: Praying. Yes.
FOUR: Americans and their tanks and jeeps and humvees and guns and bombs-
SIX: -were everywhere then.
FOUR: Yes. Like locust.
ONE: For a short time English was the regions second language.
SIX: Today.
ONE: Today it is.
SIX: English speaking infidel.
FIVE: We, my father and our friends, were nothing more than puppets for Saddam-
SIX: Yes.
FIVE: -and Saddam was the American puppet.
SIX: Yes.
TWO: We were so afraid they would invade our land and take our pride and lives and oil... but they just left.
ONE: Yes. They left us to the wrath of sanctions.
FOUR: They can have the goddamned oil!
FIVE: Yes.
TWO: So many died.
THREE: So many-
FOUR: -children.
(A sound now begins to cut through the peace. It is a droning noise with an eerie, nightmarish quality to its tone. From here forward the noise increases until, by the end of the play, it fills the stage.)
THREE: The children. Yes.
FOUR: -died… so many.
FIVE: This time around America has been much more efficient.
SIX: Quicker.
FIVE: Deadlier.
ONE: Sanctions were a…
TWO: …a creeping death?
ONE: Yes. …Occupation is…
TWO: …a swooping death?
ONE: Yes.
FOUR: Civil…
THREE: Civil war.
FOUR. Yes.
SIX: The US war machine is like no other in history.
FIVE: They brag about it.
SIX: Yes.
THREE: Crow and crow and crow about it.
ONE: It's a- a-
TWO: -a nasty bird?
ONE: ...No.
TWO: Terrible?
THREE: It's an awful sounding bird?
TWO: Caw! Caw!
ONE: Yes. But-
FOUR: Loud. It's a loud bird.
ONE: No. No. It's-
FIVE: Shrill as a war machine.
ONE: Yes, but- No. It's-
FIVE: Shrill as…
TWO: …empire.
ONE: No. It's...
SIX: Yes?
THREE: Awful as occupation?
SIX: Yes.
THREE: Loud as civil war?
FIVE: Yes.
(Blackout! The noise is deafening. After a moment it suddenly stops and from the darkness we hear ONE's voice ring out.)
ONE: Ugly.
The end.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
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