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All's Well That Ends
A Sci-Fi Parody For the Stage
by
Steve Anderson
Writer.SGAcreative.com
Performed at Bryn Mawr College,
May 3, 1993,
by the members of Doublestar, the bi-college sci-fi group.
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COPYRIGHT: (c) 1993-2005, Steve Anderson, www.SGAcreative.com.
DISCLAIMER: This is, obviously,
a work of fan fiction. It is in no way intended to infringe on any copyrights, trademarks, or other
intellectual property rights. That’s a good thing; otherwise, we’d be sued by every science fiction
franchise on the planet.
GLOSSARY: "Doublestar" was the science fiction group that performed the
play, "Traditions Mistresses" organize May Day as a whole, and "Mawrtyrs" are BMC students. The play
itself was performed at the Moon Bench, a giant stone bench surrounded by enormous trees. It's a beautiful
spot (with some threatening folklore to keep non-seniors away).
NOTE: Please do not repost, redistribute,
reproduce, or perform this play without asking permission first. I’ll almost assuredly say yes; I just
like to know what’s going on.
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Processional march to the closing title from Star Wars.
Enter NARRATOR.
NARRATOR.
Before we begin, a few opening credits. We'd like to thank (pulls out a small notecard) Bryn Mawr
Traditions, the Bryn Mawr Admissions Office, our parents, President McPherson, Professor Kosman, and
all of you for coming. (Pause.)
And we'd like to apologize to.... (Pulls out a scroll
and unfurls it--it goes on, and on, and on.... He reads.) "The Bryn Mawr Traditions Mistresses, William
Shakespeare, Professor Kramer, Douglas Adams, Gene Roddenberry, Jonathan Frakes, Michael Dorn, Whoopi
Goldberg, Wil Wheaton, Devon Miles, Carrie Fischer, Harrison Ford, Donald Bellisario, Dean Stockwell,
Scott Bakula, David Lynch, Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, Michael
Palin, Grant Naylor, Connor Macleod, Arnold Schwarzeneger, The Bi-College News, Sean Connery, Steven
Spielberg, John Belushi, The Canadian Brass, Darth Vader, Sigourney Weaver, Alan Rickman, and, of course,
the Elvis Presley Estate."
And finally, (pulls out another small notecard), in the words
of the illustrious periodical Beyond Starbucket, "This is a non-profit publication; appearance of copyrighted
characters is not intended to infringe upon copyrights. All copyrighted characters copyright to respective
original creators. Resemblances to persons living, dead, or imaginary is purely coincidental except
where they are meant to resemble said persons; all the rest is only in your fevered imagination; please
obtain psychiatric help."
Music plays in the background: the opening theme from "classic" Star
Trek.)
NARRATOR. Bi-co: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the members of Doublestar:
their four-year mission, to escape--
Enter PROFESSOR.
PROF. We need to talk.
(Music
winds down and stops, as if a record player has been unplugged.)
NARRATOR. Can't it wait?
I'm directing a play here...
PROF. It's about your thesis.
NARRATOR. I'll be right back,
folks.
PROF and NARRATOR step aside to talk.
PROF. This really won't do. Look here,
and here; there are major holes in your argument. I really don't see how you're going to graduate, unless
of course you can show me something that will explain what you're getting at.
NARRATOR. Well,
um, I tell you what. I think this play actually makes those points pretty clearly. You have a seat
over here on the nice, comfortable grass and watch the play, and I'm sure everything will work out fine.
PROF. Well, all right, but we are talking about your diploma here.
Exit PROF. NARRATOR
returns to main stage.
NARRATOR. No pressure, no pressure. Ahem. (Music audibly rewinds,
then starts again.) These are the voyages of the members of Doublestar: their (looks aside to PROF)
five-year mission, to escape strange new work-loads, to seek out new friends and new procrastinations,
to boldly split infinitives that no--
Enter TALENT SCOUT. SCOUT is dressed business-style and
is carrying a notepad.
SCOUT. Excuse me, are you the director for this production?
NARRATOR.
Yes, I am. And you are?
SCOUT. Oh, Millicent Devonshire. (She hands over a business card.)
I'm a talent scout for MondoWonderWorld Production Enterprises, Incorporated. We've heard good things
about you and your actors.
NARRATOR. You have? Er, I mean, you don't say?
SCOUT. Yes,
well, I'm here to evaluate your work and possibly offer you all jobs in Hollywood, but I just want to
see your distinctive brand of work, so don't play up to me. Just pretend I'm not here.
NARRATOR.
Er, uh, of course.
Exit SCOUT.
NARRATOR. Ahem. As I was saying (jumps up on the big
stone bench as the music begins again--this time the dramatic closing theme from Star Trek: The Motion
Picture. Narrator launches in again, rolling his R's, over-acting to the nines.) O for a Muse
of fire, that would ascend the very heaven of invention! A starship for a stage, Jedis to act, Immortals
to behold the swelling scene! Then should the warlike Klingon, like himself, assume the role of Worf,
and at his heels, leashed in like hounds, should starship, sword, and fire crouch for employment. Oh,
pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised hu-mons that hath dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
so great an object. Can this cockpit hold the vasty moon of Endor? Or may we cram
within this wooden
'O' the very blasts that did afright the air at Wolf 359? O, pardon! We must on your imaginary forces
work. Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; into a thousand parts divine one (looks aside
at the almost entirely female cast) "man": 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our friends. And
as your guide, admit me Chorus to this history; who, Prologue-like, your humble patience pray, gently
to hear, kindly to judge, our play.
Exit NARRATOR.
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Music plays: the end of the theme from Star Trek: The Next Generation.
Enter RIKER, WORF,
and WESLEY from stage right.
WES. Y'know, Worf, this is my first real Away Team mission. And
all I had to do was whine enough to Dad--I mean, the Captain--and he got really enthusiastic about letting
me off the ship.
WORF. Getting you off, you mean.
WES. What?
RIKER. That's enough,
Lieutenant. We have a mission to do here.
WORF. Of course, Commander Riker, sir.
RIKER.
Now, which way are we supposed to go? Do either of you remember?
WORF. Stage left, I think.
WORF starts off stage right.
WES. No, sir, your other left.
WORF leads RIKER and
WES off left.
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Enter LEIA, KING from right.
LEIA. Your Majesty, I really must be going. I have battles
to fight, a war to win,...
KING. I understand, Leia, but before you may leave, I must discharge
my duty. You have saved my life, and in return--
LEIA. Yes, sir, I know. You're gathering suitors
and I'm to choose a husband from among them before I depart. But I was just about to get married--to
Han--before I came here!
KING. Yes, I know. But I also know that you've told me you only chose
Han because there were no better choices available.
LEIA. True. All right, I'll go through with
it. But you have to promise me, if I don't like your "suitors," I may leave in peace and remain single.
KING. So be it.
LEIA. And I do need to leave soon...
KING. We will present the suitors
to you as soon as the last of them arrives.
LEIA. Very well. Thank you, Your Majesty.
Exit
LEIA, KING to right.
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Enter RIKER, WORF, and WES from left, with map.
RIKER. Okay, I give up. Do either of
you know where we are? Wes?
WESLEY. Well, sir, I've crosslinked the anyon emitter from my tricorder
through my communicator's transponder circuit, and I'm focusing the beam through a code ring I got free
in my last box of cereal, but it's impossible, sir. This map (He holds it up--it's from Bryn Mawr Admissions)
is beyond our technology, sir.
RIKER. Worf?
WORF. There is no dishonor in asking for
directions, sir.
RIKER. Agreed. Let's split up and look for some natives.
WESLEY. Wait,
sir, I think I hear some coming now.
Enter two Stereotypical Mawrtyrs (black leather jackets,
knives, etc.).
Worf draws his phaser--or rather, his dustbuster--and pushes Riker out of the
way.
WORF. Look out, sir! It's the Borg!
SM1. What's your problem?
SM2. Must
be from Villanova. Easy, boy.
WORF. You won't get me alive! Stop or die!
SM1. What
planet are you from?
Wesley consults his tricorder.
WES. Wait, sir! They read as
human!
WORF. Human?
RIKER. How can that be?
WORF. They have all the signs: the
haunted look, the dazed expression, the horrible pallor...
WESLEY. I have a theory, sir.
RIKER. Yes?
WESLEY. I think they must be... college seniors.
WORF. Ah! That would explain
a great many things. But--
RIKER. College students?
WESLEY. (To RIKER.) I think so,
sir. I could be wrong, but then again, I'm never wrong... sir?
RIKER is in a daze, leering at
the two new arrivals.
RIKER. Mmm, co-eds.....
WORF. Wait a minute, Wes. What about
the leather? Are you sure they're not Borg?
WES. They're definitely not Borg, but I can't explain
the leather. Unless...
WORF. Yes?
WES. Worf! They're from Bryn Mawr! They must be!
Do you know what this means?
WORF. Of course I do! Bryn Mawr was originally a Klingon school.
Its inhabitants are true warriors.
WES. Yes, but they have a warrant out for Commander Riker!
WORF. (Not listening.) Perhaps I might find some "companionship" here...
WES. But sir!
Worf growls at him.
WES. Never mind, sir. Commander? Commander!
RIKER has shaken
himself out of his daze and is making his way towards the SMs.
RIKER. (to SM1.) Eternity
never looked so lovely.
SM1. Huh?
RIKER. I was referring to the stars. Eternity never
looked so lovely.
SM1. It's the middle of the day.
RIKER. Really? I didn't notice; I
must have been blinded by your radiance.
SM1. Oh, please.
RIKER. You're welcome... to
that, and a lot more...
SM1. Get lost.
RIKER. You don't really mean that...
SM1.
I. Said. Get. Lost.
RIKER. But--but--
RIKER tries to make a move and is thrown to
the ground; SM1 glares at him. RIKER opens his mouth, then closes it. At last, he speaks.
RIKER.
Damnit, what's my line?
WES. (Whispers across the stage.) "I like strong women..."
RIKER. Oh, yeah. Thanks. (to SM1.) I like-- Oh, hell. I can't do this. Can we take the scene
over again?
NARRATOR. (From off-stage.) No! This is the performance! Just do it!
RIKER.
I like... (Stands.) I can't do this.
Enter TALENT SCOUT.
SCOUT. You're the most pathetic
band of actors I've ever seen in my life! I was almost willing to offer you all jobs in Hollywood, but
if this is how you handle an error, you're not worth my time. Good day.
SCOUT storms off. Enter
NARRATOR.
NARRATOR. And so it was that our hero (gestures to RIKER) missed his one good chance
at the big time. His destiny averted, he went on to lead a miserable life of no value to anyone. Until--
Music plays: the opening theme from Quantum Leap.
NARRATOR. --until Doctor Sam Beckett stepped
into the Quantum Leap accelerator... and vanished. He awoke to find himself trapped in the past, facing
mirror images that were not his own, and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better.
His only guide on this journey is Al, the project observer, who appears in the form of a hologram that
only Sam can see and hear. Now Doctor Beckett finds himself Leaping from life to life, striving to put
right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next Leap will be the Leap home.
Leap
sound effect.
RIKER. Al? Where the hell am I, Al?
SM1. (Under her breath.) Shh.
(Aloud.) I. Said. Get. Lost.
RIKER. But--
A white movie screen goes up behind the
Moon Bench; we see just a patch of free-standing white, which promptly vanishes to reveal AL. AL starts
to walk through the Moon Bench and then (in deference to impotency myths) goes around instead.
AL.
Sam! You're in a play in the middle of a performance! Just go along with everything; we're getting
you the script.
RIKER. Thanks, Al. (To SM1.) I--
SM1. (Under her breath.) Come
on, already, touch me. ("Riker" does, hesitantly.) You pig! (She throws him down.)
Everybody
stares at RIKER, waiting for him to give his line.
RIKER. (Under his breath.) Al?
AL.
We don't have it yet, Sam.
RIKER. (Aloud, taking a blind guess at the line.) I guess it's
too late to say I'm sorry.
SM1. What?! I can't stalk off to that! You've ruined the show!
RIKER. I'm sorry. Al? Tell me I didn't just blow it...
AL. Sorry, Sam. The actor you
leaped into loses his one chance at stardom and leads a totally worthless life.
RIKER. Damn.
Quantum Leap music again.
NARRATOR. Now Doctor Beckett finds himself leaping from
life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next leap will
be the leap home.
QL sound effect.
RIKER. Al? Where am I?
AL. What the hell?
Where are you, Al?
RIKER. "Al?" What do you mean, "Al," Al?
SM1. (Under her breath.)
Shut up. (Aloud.) I. Said. Get. Lost.
AL. (Aside.) I've... I've leapt into Al! (To
RIKER.) Never mind, Sam. Ziggy's acting up again. Just try to hang in there.
RIKER. Okay,
I'll try.
SM1. (Under her breath, but upset.) "Okay, I'll try?!" That's not even close!
Did you study your lines at all?!
Quantum Leap sound effect, white screen pops up and back down,
and there's another Al.
AL2. Sam! Tell Sam to pretend he's playing me!
AL. What?
RIKER. What?
AL. (To RIKER.) Never mind, Sam. (To AL2.) What do you mean, Al?
AL2.
Tell him his character is a lot like you--me--you.
AL. Gotcha. Sam, A--Ziggy says your character
is a lot like me. Play it up.
RIKER. Ah.... (Aloud, with new confidence.) Uh, you can't
mean that. You're just trying to play hard to get.
SM1. Damnit, what's wrong with you? We already
did that line!
RIKER. (At a loss.) Uh, wanna buy a duck?
SM1. What?
AL. What?!
AL2. WHAT?!??
RIKER. (Shrugs.) It just came into my head.
SM1. You've ruined
the whole play, damn you!
AL2. He's ruined more than that. The guy he's in goes on to lead a
disatrous life.
AL. Sam, I hate to say it, but you--we--failed. The actor you're in goes on
to have a horrible life.
RIKER. Damn.
Quantum Leap music yet again.
NARRATOR.
(From off-stage.) Hoping each time that his next leap will be the leap home.
QL sound effect.
Screen goes up and back down; enter AL3.
AL2. Oh, boy.
QL music again.
NARRATOR.
(From off-stage.) That his next leap will be the leap home.
QL sound effect and screen--enter
AL4.
AL3. Oh, boy.
Music.
NARRATOR. (From off-stage.) That his next leap will
be the leap home.
Same effect. Screen. Enter AL5.
AL4. What's going on, Al?
AL5.
You've leapt into me again, Sam.
AL4. "Again?"
AL5. Yeah. See, first you leapt into
that actor (points to RIKER), but you couldn't save his performance, so you leapt into me (AL) to
talk yourself through the performance, but that didn't work, so you leapt into the version of me (AL2)
that was talking you through talking yourself through the performance, and then into the version of me
(AL3) that was advising you then, and now you've leapt into the version of me (AL4) that was guiding
you through that Leap. You see?
AL4. No, not really.
AL5. Well... never mind. Just
explain it to yourselves. Oh, and let your first self know he's on stage in the middle of a very strange
play, but we're getting him the script.
AL4 whispers to Al3, who whispers to AL2, who whispers
to AL, who whispers to RIKER.
RIKER AND ALs 1-4. (In unison.) Oh, boy.
Re-enter PROFESSOR.
PROF. Wait, wait, wait.
Enter NARRATOR.
NARRATOR. What is it?
PROF. I understand
the ontical and hermeneutical significance of the quintupled hero figure and of the double-blind dialectic,
but I don't quite follow the implications of the internal juxtaposition of the Alexandrian archetype
and the Godotian authorial figure.
NARRATOR. Huh?
PROF. I don't get it.
NARRATOR.
Oh. Oh! Um.... It's really very simple, really... um.... (Smiles, leading the way off-stage.)
The Als are not what they seem.
PROF. Oh! I see! Well, then, I think you need to work some
more of the auto-deconstructive implications you're playing with here into your paper. Let's go talk
about it.
Exit PROF, NARRATOR.
SM1. Well, um... I. Said. Get. Lost.
AL2.
Sam! Tell Sam to play his character like he's playing me!
AL1. Sam! Ziggy says your part is
a lot like me! Play it up!
RIKER. Um... you're just saying that. (Makes a rather clumsy move.)
SM1 throws him down.
AL5. (to AL4.) Sam! We've got the script! Tell Sam (indicates
AL3) to tell Sam (AL2) to tell Sam (AL1) to tell Sam that his line is "I like strong women."
AL4. Okay. Sam! Tell Sam to tell Sam to tell Sam that his line is "I like strong women."
AL3.
Okay, thanks Al. Sam! Tell Sam to tell Sam that his line is "I like strong women."
AL2. Thanks,
Al. Sam! Tell Sam his line is "I like strong women."
AL1. Thanks. Sam! Your line is "I like
strong women."
RIKER. I like strong women.
SM1 stalks off; RIKER starts to pick himself
up.
Enter TALENT SCOUT.
SCOUT. You're all hopeless! I thought your claim to fame was
timing, and here we have to wait almost a minute for an actor to come up with the right line. Good day.
SCOUT stalks out.
AL. Uh, Sam? Ziggy says the actor you're in is going to go on to be
a total failure; this was his one chance at fame, and he blew it.
RIKER. Damnit.
NARRATOR.
(From off-stage.) Hoping each time that his next leap--
Enter COLLEGE PRESIDENT (hereafter
MARY PAT).
MARY PAT. (Interrupting.) Stop it! This has gone on long enough, and it's getting
far too silly. Silly, silly, silly! Now, let's get this right. You (she indicates RIKER) say "I
like strong women," you (she indicates SM1) stalk off, and you (RIKER again) go back to your friend
(she indicates WES). Now, let's go ahead and get to the next scene, shall we?
All on stage
gape. MARY PAT starts back to her seat, then stops and looks over her shoulder to empty space.
MARY PAT. How'd I do, Al?
MARY PAT pauses a second or two, then nods, satisfied. All the ALs
leave the stage and MARY PAT suddenly looks rather confused.
MARY PAT. What am I doing on stage?
Oh, dear. I'm terribly sorry. Please do carry on.
Exit MARY PAT.
RIKER. I like strong
women.
SM1 stalks off; RIKER picks himself up and goes back to WESLEY.
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Action continues....
WORF (to SM2). Hello.
SM2. (Non-commital.) Hello...
WORF. Could I buy you a prune juice?
SM2. A what?
WORF. Prune juice. It is a warrior's
drink.
SM2. And you're a warrior?
WORF. Indeed.
SM2. Come, then, and show me
your warrior's weapon.
WORF and SM2 disappear behind bench.
RIKER. I don't understand.
They go for Worf but not for me?
WES. They're Mawrtyrs, sir.
RIKER. What?
WES.
Mawrtyrs. You know, Bryn Mawr students.
RIKER. I know what a Mawrtyr is, Wes. My God, we're
lucky. They've got a warrant out for my arrest, castration, and execution, not necessarily in that order.
WES. Same here.
RIKER. They want to castrate you???
WES. Well, no, but they definitely
want to kill me. I don't understand why, though. I mean, it's just not fair. Nobody treats me nicely.
I go to all the trouble of saving the ship week after week and nobody ever appreciates me. Only last
week Mom sent me to bed without any dinner, and all I'd done was turn her staff into tribbles. I turned
most of them back, too!
RIKER. Shut up, Wesley.
WES. See what I mean? It's just not
fair. Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me. I'm really a loveable person. Why does everybody hate
me?
RIKER looks annoyed and defeated, nearly suicidal. Enter ARCHERS. They start setting up.
ENTER NARRATOR.
NARRATOR. Hey, what do you think you're doing?
ARCHER1. We're signed
up to have a tournament here now.
NARRATOR. But we've got this space reserved for our play!
ARCHER1. Not again. Stupid scheduling conflicts.
NARRATOR. Look, tell you what. You set up
over there, and we'll finish up our play over here, and everything'll be fine.
ARCHER1. Sounds
good. Okay for you?
ARCHERS. Sounds great.
NARRATOR. Okay, then. Carry on, gentlemen.
RIKER. Where were we?
WES. "I go to all the trouble," I think. Okay. I go to all the trouble
of saving the ship week after week and nobody ever appreciates me.--
RIKER. Shut up, Wesley.
WES. What? That's not your cue. Your cue is "I turned most of them back, too." Now, where was
I? Ah, yes. I go to all the trouble of saving the ship week after week and nobody ever appreciates
me.--
RIKER. Grr.
WES. --Only last week Mom sent me to bed without any dinner, and all
I'd done was turn her staff into tribbles. I turned most of them back, too!
RIKER. Shut up,
Wesley.
WES. See what I mean? It's just not fair. Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me. I'm
really a loveable person. Why does everybody hate me? Just because I'm more intelligent than they are,
and I never do anything wrong,--
ARCHER1. Ready! (ARCHERS nock their arrows.)
WES.
--and I whine all the time, and I have no social graces, and I'm always telling everybody all about
myself, and even Data gets bored by my technical lectures,--
ARCHER1. Aim! (ARCHERS raise their
bows and point them towards imaginary targets off-stage.)
WES. --and I have no self-confidence,
and I'm a walking plot device, and all the rest of it, that's no reason to hate me! It's not fair.
I mean, just yesterday--
ARCHER1. Fire at Will! (ARCHERS turn and 'fire' at RIKER, who yelps
and dives out of the way.)
WES. --I was telling Geordi--aigh!
WES clutches at his chest
and collapses, a cluster of arrows protruding from his body.
ARCHER1. Oops.
Enter
WORF, slightly disheveled and dazed but slipping quickly into attack mode.
RIKER. Worf! They
killed Wes!
WORF. (Comes to a stop and puts his phaser away.) I see.
ARCHER1. Listen,
I'm really sorry about this...
WORF. Do not concern yourself.
RIKER. It's perfectly all
right.
ARCHER1. But he's dead!
WES. No, he's not.
RIKER. Yes, you are.
WES.
I'm feeling much better.
RIKER. No, you're not.
WES. I feel like... studying.
RIKER
takes WORF's phaser and shoots WES.
WES. ...gaspacho...soup.... (Dies.)
RIKER. There,
that's better.
WORF. Thank you, sir. That was a noble and honorable gesture.
ARCHER1.
We'll just go and set up someplace else. It's too dangerous around here.
RIKER and WORF wave
good-bye, then realize they're losing their chance to ask for directions.
RIKER. Wait!
ARCHER1.
What is it?
RIKER. Well, uh, we're supposed to be boldly going where no one has gone before,
but we've kind of lost our way. Could you point me in the direction of Brecon Hall?
ARCHER1.
Taking that "where no one has gone before" thing pretty seriously, aren't we? Well, it's off thataway,
but it's a long and dangerous journey. I wish you well.
Exit ARCHERS.
RIKER. Thank
you. Come on, Worf.
EXIT RIKER left; WORF casts a glance back towards his "extracurricular activities"
before following.
Enter Stereotyped Mawrtyrs singing. They pick up Wes and carry his off stage
as they sing.
SM1,2. (Singing) What do you do with Wesley Crusher, what do you do with Wesley
Crusher, what do you do with Wesley Crusher, early in the morning? Cancel his grades from last semester,
cancel his grades from last semester, cancel his grades from last semester, early in the morning.
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Enter LEIA, KING.
KING. You'll be glad to know, the last suitor just arrived.
LEIA.
All right, then, let's get this over with.
KING. As you wish. (Shouts off-stage.) COME!
ENTER CONNOR and JAKE from left, RIKER and WORF from right. (CONNOR is wearing a rumpled trench-coat,
JAKE is wearing a dark suit and shades.)
KING. You three (points to CONNOR, JAKE, RIKER) stand
here. You (indicates WORF) may wait with me.
LEIA. Well?
KING. The three of you have
been called here that I may repay an important debt. The young Princess here has saved my life, and
in return I have agreed to wed her to her choice of the most eligible bachelors my men could find. You
are their selections. Whichever one of you the Princess picks will become her husband. Go ahead, madam.
LEIA (Approaches RIKER.) And you are?
RIKER. Commander William T. Riker of the United
Federation of Planets. And you are--
LEIA. Leia Organa.
RIKER. --the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen. Your eyes are like diamonds.
LEIA. I've heard that line before.
RIKER.
I--
LEIA. Don't worry, I don't object. A line is like... it's like a knock at the door.
RIKER. Are you inviting me in?
LEIA. I'm not sending you away. Go ahead, tell me more about
my eyes.
RIKER. I dream of a galaxy where your eyes are the stars and the universe worships the
night.
LEIA. Careful. You're putting me on a pedestal so high you may not be able to reach me.
RIKER. Then I'll learn how to fly.
LEIA. (Laughs.) This is fun. But it's really not
my style. Sorry, friend.
Riker steps aside to sulk.
LEIA (Approaches CONNOR.) Hey,
handsome. (Embraces him, then backs off a step with a puzzled frown.) Is that a broadsword, or are
you just happy to meet me?
CONNOR. Both, Your Highness.
LEIA. Well, you know what to
call me, but what should I call you?
Music: theme from Highlander.
Connor kneels,
pulls out a knife (with a retractable blade), takes Leia's hands and gets her to kneel in front of him.
CONNOR. I am Connor Macleod of the clan Macleod. I was born over a thousand years ago--
LEIA.
Sorry, I'm not interested in older men.
CONNOR. --in the village of Glenfinnan on the shores
of Loch... Loch, uh,... Loch.... whatever, and I cannot die.
He uses her hands to plunge the
knife into his side; he falls over and twitches for a second or two before starting to help himself back
up.
LEIA. Ew. I'm sorry, but I'm really not into that sort of thing.
CONNOR. (Shrugs.)
Live well, then.
LEIA. Thank you. (She starts to move on to JAKE.)
Enter AHNOLD (leather,
uzi, dark glasses, Schwarzenegger voice).
AHNOLD. I am looking for one called Connor.
CONNOR.
That would be me. What can I do for you?
AHNOLD. You are Connor?
CONNOR. Yes...
AHNOLD. The Connor who fights for justice and humanity?
CONNOR. I like to think so, yes.
AHNOLD. Well, then. I am here to Terminate you. John Connor must die. (Fires as Connor speaks his
next line.)
CONNOR. But my name's not J-- (Dies.)
Enter Bi-Co News Reporter left.
BCNW. Excuse me, I'm from the Bi-Co News and we're collecting quotes for this week's "The Word"
column. (To AHNOLD.) Would you answer a question for me, sir?
AHNOLD does not respond.
BCNW. Good, then. The question for this week is this: "If you were a dead musical artist, who would
you be?"
AHNOLD. I'd... be Bach.
Exit AHNOLD right; BCNW scribbles in pad.
BCNW.
Wait, I need your name and year!
Exit BCNW left after AHNOLD.
LEIA. (moving on to
JAKE.) Wait, don't I know you?
JAKE. I don't think so. (Pulls down his sunglasses for a better
look, then hastily pulls them back up again.)
LEIA. Well, what's your name?
JAKE. (Long,
uneasy pause. Then....) Jake Blues, of the Blues Brothers.
LEIA. Jake? Jake?! It IS
you!!! Why, you slimy little lowdown, scruffy-looking nurfurter! (LEIA takes CONNOR's knife and stabs
JAKE, who collapses against the Moon Bench.)
LEIA. (Turning to KING.) Well, Your Majesty,
I hate to say it, but it looks like I...
She trails off as she notices WORF.
LEIA. And
who are you, you beautiful creature?
WORF. Excuse me, madam?
LEIA. You're not quite a
Wookie, are you?
WORF. No, ma'am. I am a Klingon. My name is Worf.
LEIA. Worf. Worf.
"Worf Organa." I like the sound of that. Your Majesty? I have decided. It is to be this one.
WORF. What?
KING. Very well. We shall hold the wedding at once. And in the absence of your
father, Princess, I shall give you away.
Music: Theme from The Empire Strikes Back.
Enter
VADER.
VADER. No, King. I... am... her father.
KING. (Unimpressed.) Very well,
then, stand there behind your daughter. Nice cloak, by the way.
LEIA. I'm glad you could make
it, Dad.
VADER. I... wouldn't miss... my little girl's... special day.
VADER breathes
noisily and coughs a bit.
KING. Quiet, please. (He takes WORF's and LEIA's hands and puts
them one in the other.) I pronounce you joined.
WORF. No! Wait!
KING. You may kiss
the groom.
LEIA moves in; WORF squirms out of her grasp.
WORF. I cannot--
Music:
"Hospital Chase" theme from Star Trek IV.
Worf breaks off and sniffs the air.
WORF.
The scent of the hunt!
He hurries off with LEIA in pursuit. KING nods to VADER, who, with
RIKER, helps JAKE off stage; VADER then returns to find CONNOR standing up and dusting himself off.
VADER. I see the Schwarz is strong within you. But you do not know the power of the Dark Side.
Vader draws a Thunder-Sword, a noise-making light-up toy lightsaber, Connor draws a plastic broadsword,
and they begin fighting. They continue throughout the rest of the scene.
Meanwhile, Leia chases
Worf across the stage; Worf growls and chases her back off stage. Worf sneaks around and he and Leia
back into each other, jump, and start running off in opposite directions; Leia realizes what she's doing
and turns to chase Worf. She's now waving a pair of handcuffs.
As the music ends, CONNOR forces
VADER off stage.
CONNOR (From off-stage). There can be only one!
A black helmet rolls
across the stage.
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Enter RIPLEY, backing onto the stage from right, brandishing a SuperSoaker.
Enter WORF
from left, phaser (aka dustbuster) drawn.
RIPLEY (Spinning around and almost blasting WORF to
pieces.) Who are you?
WORF. My name is Worf. I am a hunter. May I join you?
RIPLEY.
Right about now, I can use all the help I can get. Oh, my name's Ripley.
RIPLEY and WORF start
off left.
WORF. (Stops just before they leave the stage.) What are we hunting?
RIPLEY.
Aliens. Big killers with acid for blood.
WORF. A warrior's target!
RIPLEY. I think
I know where the mother is. Why don't we go on the offensive?
WORF. Good idea. Lead the way.
RIPLEY and WORF move off right, back to back. Enter LEIA from left just in time to see them going.
LEIA. Why you little two-timing... I'll get you. I swear it.
Exit LEIA to left.
Enter
RIKER from right, running and screaming for help; enter Mawrtyrs in pursuit, waving spoons. SMs chase
RIKER across the stage and off left as they sing.
SMs. (Singing) What do you do to William
Riker, what do you do to William Riker, what do you do to William Riker early in the morning? Cut out
his heart with a rusty spoon, cut out his heart with a rusty spoon, cut out his heart with a rusty spoon,
early in the morning.
Enter RIPLEY, WORF from right, weapons down, exhausted but satisfied.
RIPLEY. You fight well.
WORF. As do you. You are a true warrior. I--
RIPLEY. What
is it?
WORF. It's actually a bit rude, I suppose. I was just going to say that, while I usually
avoid human... "companionship," I doubt that you would be "too fragile."
RIPLEY. I've been called
many things in my time, but never "fragile." Or at least, people who call me fragile tend not to live
too long.
WORF. You--?
RIPLEY. No, no. I've never killed anyone. It's just that the
aliens I hunt tend to have a sense of poetic justice.
WORF. Indeed.
RIPLEY. You know,
they'll be coming after me--us--soon; we should close that last bulkhead while we have a chance.
WORF. I'll handle that. You've been fighting longer than I; you probably need some rest.
RIPLEY.
Thanks.
Exit WORF to right. Enter LEIA from left.
LEIA. Excuse me, miss. Could I
speak to you for a moment?
RIPLEY. Sure.
LEIA and RIPLEY whisper back and forth for a
few seconds, then LEIA leaves. Both are wearing devious smiles. Enter WORF from right.
WORF.
The bulkhead is secure.
RIPLEY. You know, Worf, you said you doubted I was fragile. You wouldn't
be interested in finding out, would you?
WORF. That was not my intention. I simply meant that--
RIPLEY. Oh, I know what you meant. I'm asking if you're interested.
WORF. Well, to be honest,
yes. I have not enjoyed true companionship in far too long.
RIPLEY. I was hoping you'd say that.
I'll be right back.
WORF. Where are you going?
RIPLEY. I'm cold. I'm going to get something
to keep me warm.
WORF. Hurry back.
RIPLEY. Don't worry, I will.
Exit RIPLEY to
right. WORF sits on bench to wait, examines back and seat of bench, and nods approvingly.
WORF.
A warrior's bench.
Enter LEIA from right, wearing a long black cloak with a deep hood.
LEIA. (In her best Ripley-esque voice.) Well, lover? Come on.
WORF approaches and starts
to let down the hood of the cloak; LEIA grabs his hands and stops him.
LEIA. Leave it, m'love.
It makes things more... mysterious, don't you think?
WORF. Very well.
LEIA. Come, now.
LEIA leads WORF off-stage right.
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Enter KING.
KING. She wanted to meet me: I'm here; where is she?
Enter LEIA, hurrying
and busily removing and hiding handcuffs.
LEIA. Sorry I'm late, Your Majesty; I got tied up.
But this 'Worf' is a dishonorable, despicable, lying bastard!
KING. What has happened, my child?
LEIA. Not half an hour after our bonding, he would have been in bed with another woman!
KING.
My!
LEIA. You must do something!
KING. Indeed I shall. (Calls off-stage.) Bring me
Worf and--who was the woman?
LEIA. Ripley.
KING. --and Ripley! Immediately!
LEIA.
Thank you, Your Majesty.
Enter Bi-Co News Writer from right.
BCNW. Excuse me, Your
Majesty, I'm from the Bi-Co News, and we're doing research for this week's "The Word" column. Would
you mind answering a question for me?
KING. Certainly.
BCNW. If you were a dead musical
artist, who would you be?
KING. Dead? What do you mean, dead? I'm alive!
BCNW. And
who are you, then?
KING. Isn't it obvious? (Quick pelvic thrust.) I'm The King!
BCNW.
Riiight....
BCNW backs away and exits stage right.
Enter Worf, Ripley.
WORF.
You sent for me, Your Majesty?
KING. Is it true?
WORF. Is what true, sir?
KING.
Have you broken promise with Leia here and had carnal relations with Ripley?
WORF. Well, I have,
as you say, "had carnal relations"--(Ripley pumps her SuperSoaker gun once, efficiently)--with Ripley,
but I have not broken any promise. I made no promise to break.
KING. You are bonded to Leia!
WORF. I did not choose that, or even agree to it. Leia is too... fragile. For her safety, I cannot
join with her. If taking care for her safety is a crime, I confess my guilt.
KING. Well. (Turning
to LEIA.) And what say you to this?
LEIA. I say my bond-mate is a fool.
WORF. I do
not understand.
LEIA. You prize honor, yet evade duties you find distasteful, you are as subtle
as a ton of concrete, and you're a liar, besides.
WORF. How dare you say such a thing?
LEIA.
You ignored your duty to me because you did not approve of the king's decree; you "seduced" Ripley--if
you can call it that--right in front of me; and you proved your own lie in the process.
WORF.
What lie?
LEIA. You keep saying that I, and most other human females, are 'too fragile' for
you, but it was not Ripley in that cloak, it was me.
WORF. You?
LEIA. Yes, Worf. Me.
It was your "fragile" bond-mate who out-performed you with the King, with Ripley,... and in bed.
WORF. But--
LEIA. If there's anything that's fragile around here, it's your ego.
WORF.
I protest!
LEIA. Well, do it someplace else. I will have nothing more to do with you.
WORF.
(Sighs.) A warrior's fate...
Exit WORF.
KING. Well, I'm afraid there are no more
suitors left; two are dead, and you have rejected the other two.
LEIA. No, Your Majesty. I have
decided, and this time I think it is for the best.
KING. Well, enlighten me. Who's the lucky
man?
LEIA. No.
KING. I implore you, tell me.
LEIA. Oh, I'm sorry, Your Majesty.
I wasn't saying "No, I won't tell you."
KING. Then what were you saying?
LEIA. I was
saying, "No, it's not 'the lucky man.'" By your graceful service, I would bond with Ripley.
KING.
(Long, startled pause, then....) Very well. (Takes their hands and puts them in each other.)
I pronounce you joined. You may kiss--each other.
They do.
KING. Live well, and be
happy.
RIPLEY. Thank you, Your Majesty. We will.
LEIA and RIPLEY start off right; KING
exits left.
Enter Bi-Co News Worker from left.
BCNW. Leia and Ripley, you've just outwitted
Worf, gotten bonded, and given this play a happy ending. What are you going to do next?
LEIA
and RIPLEY. We're goin' to Disney World!
Enter NARRATOR from left.
Enter CARD-HOLDERS
from right with a two-piece posterboard picture of a sunset. They hold up the poster at the right end
of the stage. LEIA and RIPLEY exit right, passing between the halves of the poster during the first
half of the next line.
NARRATOR. And as our heroines walked off together into the sunset, peace
descended upon the land, and they all lived happily ever after... or at least until the sequel.
Music:
Main title theme from Raiders of the Lost Ark.
THE END
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