LUNA & BONNIE
ABSURD TIME
(Dimly lit stage. A clock ticks arrhythmically. No one else is in the room but Bonnie and Luna. They speak into the void, jumping from one idea to another, responding to each other from completely disconnected logic).
LUNA: Catch me, catch the caramel puppy! I am the wind! I am a distracted bird! Woof, woof!
BONNIE: (Panting very elegantly, leaning against a chair) Enough... child. Bones have memory, and mine remember the Ice Age.
LUNA: Why, why, why do you get tired? You are the magic wolf!
BONNIE: (Looking out the window) One hundred years old am I... and he thinks I am four. I let myself be adopted because I saw his picture and knew he needed me more. His life is senseless. We must find him a partner.
LUNA: Sausage things?
BONNIE: (Sits down, solemn) Look, child. Listen to me well. I am a hundred years old. I have seen generations pass. And I know things. Great things. Things about the universe, Luna. Charles's loneliness is no accident. There are forces... presences watching us from above. Beings that come, take a peek, and leave. The world is not this living room.
LUNA: Oh, no! We are not alone! They’re going to come take us to the shelter! I don’t want to go back to the street! I don’t want to hunt insects! I behave well, I chew my rawhides, I don’t chew shoes!
BONNIE: (Hugs her tenderly) Shhh, calm down, my little beast. It’s not the shelter. It’s the mystery of life. But you are still too much of a puppy to understand the melancholy of the cosmos.
LUNA: Woof! Let’s see, let’s see, let’s see... What does all this mean? The tall tree wants a girlfriend but doesn't want to bathe. The purple flowers scream gross. Bonnie talks about the universe and Charles is afraid of the neighbors.
BONNIE: (Whispering to the audience) Look at her, walking a Golden Retriever. She's perfect. Go, Charles!
LUNA: Woof! Don’t talk to Mister Chicken-Giver like that! Woof, woof!
BONNIE: What are you doing over there, Luna?
LUNA: (Without looking away from the door, wagging her tail slowly) I’m waiting for the deranged yellow cat. Or the magic two-thousand-three-hundred-year-old cat. He’s coming. I know it. And I’m going to bite his ear.
BONNIE: (Rising majestically, interrupting Luna) Silence, naive pup. No cat shall ever step foot in this house. They are our ultimate enemies. They are darkness incarnate in flexibility. I met one on the streets... it was yellow. It was completely deranged. It stared at you, and you could feel it stealing your soul through your eyes.
LUNA: Does a soul taste like kibble?
BONNIE: (Lifts her head to the ceiling and lets out a melancholic, beautiful howl, agreeing with the empty space).
LUNA: I contemplate too! I contemplate the flies! Rub my belly! Tell me I’m wise! Wise and caramel-colored!
BONNIE: (Stops in front of an invisible point in the air, looks it up and down with severity, and speaks with perfect, cold, authoritative human diction) Listen to me. You are going to behave yourself.
LUNA: Woof! Mister Chicken-Giver! What is a cat? Is it like a squirrel, but with magic? Can we get one? I want a cat to play with and bite its ears!
BONNIE: (Taking a step forward, slightly cornering the invisible figure toward the plants) Listen to me very carefully. I don't know who you think you are with that attitude, but I’m going to make this very clear: this house belongs to the plants. We are merely the executive supervision.
LUNA: Of course we talk, muscle-boy! And tone down your delusions of grandeur.
BONNIE: Exactly. So get to work. What are you, a gym trainer, judging by the little outfit?
LUNA: I do not understand the grown-up world! There are too many rules! The water, the two-thousand-year-old cats, the rawhide chews! You know what? When the Mister Chicken-Giver comes back, I’m going with him. Yes! I want to go to that university! I’m going to sit in a human chair and I’m going to learn things! I’ll learn to add up kibbles and understand why love is gross if you don't take a bath! I have spoken!
BONNIE: Well, get to work, Mr. Crossfit. Because that Peace Lily is three hundred and fifty years old and she isn't going to water herself. Move!
LUNA: Woof?
LUNA: And then serve me chicken! With kibble! But make it fast, I’m getting bored! Woof! (The "woof" sounds wildly sarcastic, very human).
BONNIE: (Lets out a soft howl of farewell and understanding toward the audience).
(Total blackout).
