mind adventures

an experimental theatre company set up in sri lanka in 1999.

last dance at the cyclone

so i’m starting to work on my project for this december.

(this is not the same project that i’m having auditions for at the end of this month. that particular production is scheduled for march ’07.)

my december project is the return of ‘lookin thru my earphones’, which many people have been asking for, and which i wanted to do again anyway, because of a fabulous present that masii (the author) gave me about two months ago…a mini-play in verse form. ‘last dance at the cyclone’ will be staged almost like a musical and we are in fact, working on the original sound track as i write. it will complete my show of performance poetry, by featuring as the second half.

find the script below.

LAST DANCE AT THE CYCLONE

For N. De. S

The setting is a nightclub. There is a bar at centre stage, with the Bartender behind it. Left of stage is a D.J console and D.J. The action happens in front of the bar, with the Drunk perched on a bar stool and the Russian Hooker by his side hawking herself to the audience. The Pusher is in the shadows. The Bouncer stands in front of a section cordoned off with a satin cord. The Dancing Queens are seated at a table next to him. Everyone dances for the chorus-the Dancing Queens hit the floor, everytime the urge grabs them, then come back to their seats. The Private Dancer never gets off the dance floor; her voice comes synthesized thru the P.A system. The RichKid makes a dramatic late entrance and stays…

CHARACTERS

THE BARTENDER:

THE PRIVATE DANCER:

THE RUSSIAN HOOKER:

THE PUSHER:

THE RICHKID:

THE DANCING QUEENS:

THE BOUNCER:

THE D.J:

THE DRUNK :

ANNOUNCEMENT BEFORE THE SHOW:

Tonite it’s Smirnoff Storys at the Cyclone. Happy Hour from eight to ecstacy. Ladies free, temperature in the high degrees. No pets and regrets, no kids and catcalls. Leave your mobile fones in the gloom, D.J Doom is in the room.

BARTENDER:

What’s your order? A Bacardi with coke? A Bloody Mary for hope? I am here to show the light ,I am here to cheer the fight, I am your barman for the night. …another burbon for the broken? And a sherry for the shaken?

Last dance! Last dance!

RUSSIAN HOOKER:

Talk dirty to me, whisper secrets to me, tell me your tears, sell me your fears. I can see you are a good man, just fell into the wrong hands, got caught up in the wrong plans, but let me make it up to you, make you feel all brand new.

B/R.H: Last dance! Last dance!

THE PUSHER:

I can make you float and fly, I can help you live the lie, with my bag of party pills, I can help you kiss the sky. But here’s some advise- it ‘s for free; the pills don’t keep its promises, the pills don’t keep its promises.

B/R.H/T.P: Last dance! Last dance!
THE D.J:

Folks, this is what it all comes down to; a few good tunes, the in-house whore, a dance floor. Come on down, there’s booze and bitches, some stolen riches, a few burnt bridges. I’ve got house and garage, of techno a barrage, some funk for the fallen, some 60’s calling.

CHORUS:

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

Take your heartaches

On the floor!

Give them a twist!

Give them a turn!

You can be sure,

They will return!

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

THE PRIVATE DANCER:

Mother I am calling from the dance floor, I am caught in the afterglow, I am captive of the music, prisoner of the techno beat. I have been arrested under the Prevention of Techno Act, I am accused of an indecent act. I am sorry I let down the family, but I was only trying to escape the heat, and see where it got me- a captive of the music, prisoner of the techno beat.

Lets dance! Lets dance!

THE BARTENDER:

Your order Sir! One bourbon with ice and no lies . One drambuie and the roll of the dice. For you madam, a Curacao in cobalt, and you sir, the usual melancholy malt?

T.P.D/T.B:Lets dance! Lets dance!

RUSSIAN HOOKER:

Can I show you a good time? Read you some bedtime rhymes? I‘ll be your dirty dancer, your Russian romancer; your beat up ballerina, your kinky Kurnikova!.

T.P.D/T.B/R.H: Lets dance! Lets dance!

THE PUSHER:

I got blues for the brave, I got pinks for the perves, I got smiley faces and all night racers, I got Rasputin in red and raspberry Rolexes, It’s gonna be a loo-ng day, want to try some some M.D.M.A? But like I said… the pills don’t keep its promises. The pills don’t keep its promises.

T.P.D/T.B/R.H/T.P: Lets dance! Lets dance!

DANCING QUEENS:

Another nite, another song! I can feel a dance coming on!

DANCING QUEEN 1: Come on gals, here’s our chance, let’s show the boys how we can dance!

DANCING QUEENS:

Another nite, another song! I can feel a dance coming on!

T.P.D/T.B/R.H/T.P/D.Q: Lets dance! Lets dance!

THE BOUNCER :

It’s a private party for a crowd of one, music playing and the sound of guns, people laughing and the ticking of bombs, private party’s they’re full of fun.

T.P.D/T.B/R.H/T.P/D.Q/B: Lets dance! Lets dance!

D.J:

Join me on a paisley prance, a techno trance, a devil dance. I am your soul salvation, your ra rap redemption, your only chance…

CHORUS:

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

Take your heartaches

On the floor!

Give them a twist!

Give them a turn!

You can be sure,

They will return!

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

THE DRUNK:

There I was minding my own business, when I heard you say ‘wanna dance?’ your voice sardonic, with no trace of tonic; and just the hint of crushed ice in your laugh. So we swirl in a wet embrace, part perspiration, part depravation, one rumor fuelling another, one scotch chasing another, around the dance floor of my glass.

Dance, dance! Lets dance!

THE BARTENDER:

Can I get you a cocktail? U want me to listen to your sad tale? You can tell me about your day, about the love that went away. You hear such sorry stories at this bar; you forget its happy hour!

T.D/T.B: Dance, dance! Lets dance!

RUSSIAN HOOKER:

Would you like me in uniform? To the missionary conform? How about candlewax and foam? Or shall I stay unreformed?

T.D/T.B/R.H :Dance, dance! Lets dance!

THE PUSHER:

The time has come to burn bright, like neon light, the time has come to blame and flame and lose our minds…. But don’t say I didn’t warn you; the pills don’t keep its promises. The pills don’t keep its promises.

T.D/T.B/R.H/T.P: Dance, dance! Lets dance!

THE RICHKID:

Give me your full attention, I am the night’s sensation, treat me real nice, get me champagne on ice. I want the corner table, my own little tower of Babel; for my private translator, a minister from outstation and chicks from an EU nation.

T.D/T.B/R.H/T.P/T.R.K: Dance, dance! Lets dance!

THE D.J

If the devil is a D.J, then call me C.J, I can play along with you, turn tables on you, I can make your head spin, I can make your body sin, I can make your heart glow, but I ain’t promising an encore.

CHORUS:

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

Take your heartaches

On the floor!

Give them a twist!

Give them a turn!

You can be sure,

They will return!

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

THE DRUNK :

I raise a toast to you, the waiter a brow at me; the whiskey providing cold comfort, the night offering no refuge, as I search for you amidst the ice cubes, drinking greedily till I hit glass bottom; the pain almost forgotten. The song ends, the thirst remains. So we move from soul to Latin to blues, the last a slow drink, holding you tight in my glass, knowing it would never last.

Last dance! Last dance!

THE PRIVATE DANCER:

Mother, , I have no where to go, I’m in solitary confinement on the dance floor. I am captive of the music, prisoner of the techno beat. They’re won’t allow fonecalls, they wont let me speak to you, I am a prisoner of the dance floor, you can’t thru.. I was trying to be upbeat, but they finally got to me-I am a captive of the music, prisoner of the techno beat.

T.D/T.P.D: Last dance! Last dance!

THE BARTENDER:

So have one last round before you go; a Singapore Sling, a Desperate Fling? A Romance on the Rocks? Some Tequila shots? A vodka pure? You name it; I’ve got the cure!

T.D/T.P.D/T.B: Last dance! Last dance!

RUSSIAN HOOKER:

If you want to share my thunder, here’s my mobile number, give me a call, after nightfall, I will give you a thrill, be shameless and shrill, but before that- how about a spin on the floor? I‘ve got nowhere else to go…

T.D/T.P.D/T.B/R.H: Last dance! Last dance!

THE PUSHER:

I could extend your flight; this needn’t be the end of the night, I got smiley faces and all night racers, I got Rasputin in red and raspberry Rolexes, but this is your captain speaking, this party is about to crash. Can you hear what I am saying? It will be all over in a flash. The pills don’t keep its promises…

T.D/T.P.D/T.B/R.H/T.P : Last dance! Last dance!

THE RICHKID:

Send in the clowns and coke dealers, bring on the faith healers! It is the witching hour! It’s time for my fanfare! Burn money burn, like there is no tomorrow to turn, and the path to wisdom leads straight to the dance floor.

T.D/T.P.D/T.B/R.H/T.P/T.R.K: Last dance! Last dance!

DANCING QUEENS:

Another nite another song! I can feel a dance coming on!

DANCING QUEEN 2:`.

Let’s keep it tight! We’re taking over the floor tonite!

DANCING QUEENS:

Another nite, another song! I can feel a dance coming on!

T.D/T.P.D/T.B/R.H/T.P/T.R.K/D.Q : Last dance! Last dance!

THE BOUNCER

A private party for a crowd of one, no one leaves till you find the gun, no one leaves till you hear the bomb, no one leaves till you are all undone. A private party, at the end there’s none.

T.D/T.P.D/T.B/R.H/T.P/T.R.K/D.Q/T.B: Last dance! Last dance!

D.J:

My blessings on all and my final boogie bequest, may your star rip and rise, may the nite leave you wise, may the music rule, may the day find you cool, this goes out to all you romantic rejects, it’s a special request!

CHORUS:

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

Take your heartaches

On the floor!

Give them a twist!

Give them a turn!

You can be sure,

They will return!

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

THE DRUNK :

Then the waiter gives me my bill. Heavy with the weight of all my sins. I protest, saying there’s something I have to do; before the nite fades to blue, have one last dance with you. The waiter laughs and points to my bill, ‘Isn’t that funny? As you can see from your bill, you’ve have had 9 dances too many! Sir, that’s 9 dances too many!

CHORUS:

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

Take your heartaches

On the floor!

Give them a twist!

Give them a turn!

You can be sure,

They will return!

Last dance!

Last dance

At the Cyclone!

(Immediate blackout. When the lights come on again, only the RichKid is left at his table.)

THE RICHKID:

Heavens in my backseat, the party’s on at my suite, let me take you there, let my feelings share. I got a red Ferrari with it’s own jacuzzi. Let me take you there, show some tender luvin care. Heavens in my backseat, the party’s on at my suite. Let me take you there…

(Fade to black)

ANNOUNCEMENT AFTER THE SHOW:

It’s the Redbull Diary’s next Friday at the Cyclone. Happy Hour from eight to ecstacy. Ladies free, temperature in the high degrees. No pets and regrets, no kids and catcalls. Try not to heed the dark calling, make sure you take all your personal belongings.

******THE END******

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6 Comments»

  SweetIdiot wrote @

Superduper! 🙂

  T wrote @

Love it….. are you still auditioning for this or do you already have people in mind?

  Suni wrote @

This is awesome Tracy!!
Soo looking forward to seeing this one.

  daytripper wrote @

have more or less figured out the cast, but am always on the look-out for new people. so if you’re interested in auditioning, just send me an email.

  make love not war « daytripper wrote @

[…] a sample. this was written about three years ago by ‘masii’, but we never performed […]

  chaarmax wrote @

Can I play the Bouncer? huh? huh? pls.. pls…. 🙂


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