In the dark, “-ARCHY” theme music plays, then transitions into some kind of bossa nova or recap music to underscore the following, which is said live by actors onstage but cannot be seen:

READYMAID. So....(she click-lights, so only her face can be seen, as though she is a floating head) just to summarize this entire conversation for nobody in particular... I’m a postmodern messiah, on account of having been born already fully grown, qualifying me as a ready-made objet d’art in the style of Marcel Duchamp. I was sold to a rich family of art collectors and employed as an actual maid to disguise the fact that I was really destined for something greater. Until, that is, one of my employers pulled a lever on a government-issued contraption called a Retrospect that sent me back to the day I was born—fully grown—so that I could have a chance at fulfilling some as-yet-undiscovered destiny?

EULOGIST. That certainly rings a bell.

A bell rings and the lights bump up on where we left off: the scene between EULOGIST, READYMAID, and NOTAMAN. Except READYMAID is still sitting on NOTAMAN, who hasn’t sneezed yet. As a reminder, the ottoman is actually a person on all fours covered in a blanket. There is a sign on him/it that says NOT A MAN. Whenever an actor says “Notaman,” it should rhyme with “Ottoman.”

READYMAID. Room service! ...Oh... sorry, reflex.

EULOGIST. That’s right. Untrain that old refrain, Readymaid. Forsake your live-in cadence.

READYMAID. But it’s all so lived-in. Subservience is my default setting. I never saw inside my Retrospect. How am I to know what I was meant to have done as a messiah?

EULOGIST. I wish I could tell you, Readymaid. (thinking) Well I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you. (thinking) First. I’d have to kill you first, and then tell everyone else what kind of person you were meant to be. (points to the EULOGIST sign, sheepishly)

READYMAID. Oh, thanks for offering your services, but that’s quite alright. I guess I’ll just have to discover the higher purpose of my nature on my own.

NOTAMAN. (from underneath her) No, you won’t!

EULOGIST gasps. READYMAID is shocked and jumps up.


READYMAID. I really, really think you need new furniture.

NOTAMAN stands up.

NOTAMAN. That’s right, you do.

EULOGIST. Notaman!

READYMAID. (in utter shock) The Notaman’s a lotta-man! The chair’s got hair! The settee’s a he!

NOTAMAN. That’s right! (He flips his sign so it reads AREAMAN).

EULOGIST. (reading) Area-man?

NOTAMAN. No, ARE-a-man!....As in, you ARE a man... (he rips the whole thing off in frustration) You know what, it doesn’t matter. Because I’m putting in my notice.

NOTAMAN pulls out a sign that says “NOTICE” maybe? Beat.

And I expect you to take it.

EULOGIST. Notaman, I ....(snubbing his nose) I certainly won’t take notice.

NOTAMAN. Sir, with all due respect, I may be your footstool but I’m no doormat. Please. I’ve been a humble appurtenance in this parlor for as long as I can remember. (It’s safe to say I’ve kissed a lot of ass to get where I am today.) But I’ve spent far too long on all fours and it’s time to take a stand, and give these arms rest. I used to think all I wanted was a table’s income, a comfortable lifestyle. But I’ve since bolstered my confidence, And I’m ready to throw cushion to the wind. I’ve been inspired by this woman’s tale of rebirth. And I wish to join her on her quest.

READYMAID. Quest? What quest?

NOTAMAN. The one in question. The quest to overcome.

READYMAID. Overcome what

NOTAMAN. I don’t know, but you’re the messiah. You’ll figure it out. I’ll follow, as your humble sheep.

EULOGIST. Heard enough. Won’t have it. Can’t part with the furniture. (softens, pleading) Notaman, no. Think of the times we’ve had. The coffee stains. The time I tickled you until I found enough loose change to do my laundry.

NOTAMAN. I’m tired of being objectified! I will quest alongside Readymaid as a fellow work of art. I may not be as rare as she, but I’m told I’m quite the hot commode.

EULOGIST. Commodity.

NOTAMAN. It’s French.

READYMAID. I’m French!

EULOGIST. Enough, both of you. Notaman, if this is how you really feel, then go (He takes the NOTICE sign.) Join Readymaid on her quest.

READYMAID. WHAT QUEST

EULOGIST. Begs the question, doesn’t it? Not so easy without a guide, is it? (he softens again) I don’t mean to be so harsh. I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt. 

READYMAID. Why would we?

EULOGIST. Because they already know you’re coming.

READYMAID. Who does?

EULOGIST. The -Archy. And if you’re going to overthrow the -Archy, then you’re going to need a lot more help.

READYMAID. Wait, what? Wait, why? No, hold on, what does this have to do with the -Archy?

EULOGIST. (as if possessed, like a series of riddles) Because the -Archy is the ultimate metaphor, far greater than the sum of its parts. Each part, with its own Constitution. Constituents. Omnipotence. Obituaries. (unpossessed) But I’ve gone and said too much! (side wink) Which usually isn’t a problem for me. (anyway) Get out! GET OUT!!!

They run. Blackout.

NOTAMAN and READYMAID have emerged in The Forest of Pure Whimsy—it looks like a spooky forbidden forest, but perhaps slightly more whimsical in winking ways.... signage and such. Silence as they catch their breathe.

READYMAID. Well, that was quite the scene of revelation.

NOTAMAN. Something’s not right.

READYMAID. Yes... I feel like... that’s... obvious... ?

NOTAMAN. No, I mean.. the Eulogist. He wouldn’t just let things slip out like that.

READYMAID. I mean, he quite literally showed us the door

NOTAMAN. No, not us, all that stuff about the -Archy. His entire livelihood is in his choice of words. I’ve never known him to... to thicken the plot like that.

READYMAID. Yes, you know, you’re right. He’s always been more of a plot device, hasn’t he? Grave company, perhaps, but still mostly benign. Merely providing closure where it was due.

NOTAMAN. Exactly. I’m telling you, something’s not right.

Rustling is heard. READYMAID crouches, NOTAMAN goes full table. She looks at him oddly.

Sorry. Reflex.

NOTAMAN stands up.

more rustling

more rustling

more rustling

READYMAID. This rustling hasn’t really escalated at all. Should we just keep moving?

NOTAMAN. I feel like we should wait until it comes to a head.

More rustling. From behind a bush, a man’s head (RUSSELL) floats up.

RUSSELL. (completely straight faced, out at audience) Rustle russell rustle russell. Rustle russell.

READYMAID. (gently trying to get his attention) Excuse me? Can you, uhm

RUSSELL. Rustle russell rustle russell

NOTAMAN. Hey! What are you doing

RUSSELL. What?

NOTAMAN. Why are you rustling around down there?

RUSSELL. Oh? Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

READYMAID. It’s just... very suspicious is all. Being in a forest.

RUSSELL. Right. I’m just doing foley.

READYMAID. Sorry, what does that mean?

RUSSELL. Foley. In the foliage. I’m creating textured sounds for your forest walk. You know, underbrush-swiping, dry leaves crunching, owl hooting.

An owl hoots.

READYMAID. And you do this... for a living?

RUSSELL. Yeah.

READYMAID. Strange. Beat. We’ll just move along then... sorry, what’s your name?

RUSSELL. Russell.

NOTAMAN. Figures.

RUSSELL. Hey, wait a minute. I know about you guys.

READYMAID. Us?

RUSSELL. Sure, the art objects.

BEAT. A beatbox. Sitting near RUSSELL, and it starts playing a 90s breakdance loop.

Sorry. Reflex. (He cuts it off.) Happens whenever there’s a mutually-felt lull in conversation. But hey, I want to help you. I heard you guys are headed to the capital city?

READYMAID. We are?

RUSSELL. Wait, was I not supposed to say that? Oh, no... (shaking head) russell russell russell

NOTAMAN. (to READYMAID) I don’t think that’s the sound of a headshake. (to RUSSELL) Who told you we were headed to the capital?

RUSSELL. Oh, I heard it through the grapevine.

(NOTAMAN fervently looks up and around at all the hanging forest vines)

NOTAMAN. Which one?

RUSSELL. (pointing) That one.

This is an actual GRAPEVINE of people going soberly across the back wall. This can be any 3 people. Rhythmic, quick, straight-faced.

NOTAMAN. Follow that grapevine! It knows something!

READYMAID. (as they run off after it, fading into the distance) I bet it knows a lot. After all, it’s an iiiiivy leeeeeeeaaaaague!

NOTAMAN and READYMAID chase off after the GRAPEVINE. RUSSELL stares after them as the lights fade. In the dark, Marvin Gaye’s “Heard it through the Grapevine” plays.

Lights up to EULOGIST in his spinny chair, on the telephone.

EULOGIST. Oh, they saw you, did they? Yes, and then what did you tell them? Good. Good. Thank you, Russell. Please continue to keep an eye on them. Oh, you did? That’s wonderful. Ok, Russell. Yes, that’s very nice rustling. Okay, I have to go now.

He hangs up. He does something maniacal. Blackout.

The first thing we see is the GRAPEVINE of people moving very quickly across the stage and off. READYMAID and NOTAMAN burst on chasing after it, but they’ve lost it. They look around. They are at a fork in the road, which is naturally a giant fork that has many signposts that point in many directions a la Alice in Wonderland. All signs, all caps. The mood is night-time-y. Little do they know, it’s not the only mood in the room...

NOTAMAN. Dangit! They got away.

READYMAID. What a strange forest.

READYMAID. Well, you said to look for the signs. Here’s a bunch.

NOTAMAN. I can’t make them out in this light. Any of them say The Capital?

READYMAID. It’s all capitals. I just don’t know which one we’re looking for.

From off. we hear:

SUBJUNCTIVE. If I were you, I might go that a-way.

They look around for the source of the voice, but see nothing.

NOTAMAN. Hey, who said that?

SUBJUNCTIVE. Or perhaps I should suggest you walk in that direction.

READYMAID. Where’s it coming from??

SUBJUNCTIVE. Rather, I recommend that you stay rooted right where you are. Since you don’t seem to to know where you’re going. Keep one foot on the ground.

NOTAMAN. HEY, who you calling a futon? (fisticuffs)

READYMAID. Alright, wherever you are, cut it out!

The sound of scissors slicing through fabric. A cutout of a man, like a chalk outline, falls from the sky and hits the forest floor in front of them.

READYMAID. Oh, that isn’t funny. We’re terribly lost!

SUBJUNCTIVE. Can’t help you there. At least not from all the way over here.

READYMAID. Well, if we could see you... it’s just that it’s very dark out here...

SUBJUNCTIVE. How about (click-light) now?

And then, with a glowing smile much like the Cheshire cat, the SUBJUNCTIVE mood emerges in full view of READYMAID and NOTAMAN. He is in the most absurd costume. What would the SUBJUNCTIVE wear? Put him in it.

READYMAID. Oh, my. What... Who... What I mean is...

SUBJUNCTIVE. It isn’t what you mean, but how you mean. Or rather, how I mean. I mean well, unless I were to....(pause) Better that you ask me to introduce myself.

READYMAID. Alright.

SUBJUNCTIVE. (bows) Subjunctive here. And you’re at my sub-junction. The intersection of pure furtherance, where the only way to move forward is by recommendation.

NOTAMAN. You’re... the subjunctive? Like... the tense?

SUBJUNCTIVE. Actually I’m more of a mood. In tense. That is, I can only be seen in certain tenses. That’s why I live here, in my mood lighting.

READYMAID. That’s quite the introduction. What should we call you?

SUBJUNCTIVE. Jeff

NOTAMAN. Jeff?

SUBJUNCTIVE. Yep

READYMAID. Well, Jeff, my friend here and I are questing. Re-questing, I suppose, since I’m living a double life. That is, living it over again. Oh, why is my story so hard to tell? Let’s put it this way: I was... employed. But now I’m self-employed. A freelancer. And Notaman, here—

NOTAMAN. I can freely answer too, it’s alright. I’m an ex-chaise. A footrest on sabbatical! A daybed gone rogue. (finally, informally:) I used to be a couch.

SUBJUNCTIVE. Ouch.

READYMAID. We each have recently discovered our inherent value not only as humans, but as works of art. And now, I think we are going to the capital city. To defeat the -Archy.

SUBJUNCTIVE. Which -Archy?

This should have the tenor of the best speech ever. Music? READYMAID gets more and more confident as she speaks, of real and true self-actualization.

READYMAID. All of them; one by one, until we nullify the suffix itself. (Music comes in...) I’ve been told I’m the Postmodern Messiah. And as an object of found art, born without mediation, I come bearing Presence itself. So we will go to the capital city, and we will fell the Towers of Pure Reason, and distill unto all a New Era, one that is eternally up-to-date and thus beyond obsolescence. Down with the State of the Archy. And long live the State-of-the-Art!

NOTAMAN and SUBJUNCTIVE. Wow.

READYMAID. (crazy eyes) And you, Jeff. You’ll guide us there. (kind eyes) You’re one of us too, after all.

SUBJUNCTIVE. You...you propose that I join your quest?

READYMAID. Yes. Not as a found art... but as a lost one.

SUBJUNCTIVE. Oh, my! If I were to join you... Oh, you’ll like me. You’ll like me very much. I’m very obedient, since I can’t be insubordinate.

NOTAMAN. Clause-wise?

SUBJUNCTIVE closes his eyes. Perfect beat. Ad libs of realizing what is going on:

READYMAID. Oh, I see what happened here, no/

NOTAMAN. No I meant/nevermind/

SUBJUNCTIVE. What? I don’t understand/

READYMAID. Enough! LET’S GO!

They link arms and do that iconic Wizard of Oz walk as the lights shift to reveal the Capital City on another part of the stage, where KING FORMITY sits on his throne staring into a ball or some view-finding device visible to the audience. He sees the gang is on their way.

FORM. The Eulogist was right. Readymaid is coming. And it looks like she’s found friends. But she’ll have to make it to Wit’s End first...where language is always the first to go. 


He looks into his crystal orb, at the SUBJUNCTIVE skipping along with them. Laughs evilly. Blackout.

******END OF EP. 3*********