Housebroken

By Stuart Bousel

Characters:

MARRA, a cute upper-class girl in her late twenties

KANSAS, her husband

PIERRE, his best friend

DIONNE, her best friend

ANN, Dionne’s sister-in-law

RANDOLPH, a piano dealer

NOTES: The Piano is never seen but is always just offstage, or in the audience, forcing the actors to “create it” through focus and intentions. It does, however, often announce its presence with a jangle of piano chords (rather like a dog barking), and its movement could also be suggested with lighting and additional sound effects. Settings should be suggested by key props and lights and should change with cinematic quickness. The whole thing should happen at a fairly frenetic pace except where the action requires a bit of a breather.

(Black. We hear a sudden and thundering piano chord. The light snaps on to reveal MARRA, standing center in her designer pajamas.)

MARRA: (to the audience) We got the piano on Wednesday. By Saturday night he had already tried to escape twice.

(Another jumble of chords. KANSAS comes racing in, similarly dressed for bed as the lights rise to reveal their tastefully bland apartment that appears to have been just slightly ravaged by a large wild animal. They run around, looking through doors and windows, in an extreme state of panic.)

MARRA: Did you see where he went?

KANSAS: No. I’m checking the back door.

MARRA: I’ll take the front.

KANSAS: We’ve already locked the front.

MARRA: I’m talking about the windows.

KANSAS: We’re on the 3rd floor, Marra, you don’t thin

MARRA: I don’t know. If we left one open, maybe

KANSAS: The only one we left open was

MARRA: In the bedroom.

KANSAS: Run! I’ll lock the back door.

(They separate. MARRA runs to a “window” facing the audience. She opens it, looks out.)

MARRA: (to the audience) I look out the window, thinking I’ll see him laying in pieces on the sidewalk, but there is nothing there. I’m so relieved; it’s surprising. I didn’t realize I loved him so much already.

(KANSAS races back in.)

KANSAS: Did you find anything?

MARRA: (starting to cry) There’s nothing out there!

KANSAS: (rushing over to hold her) Oh God, Marra no! Don’t cry!

MARRA: Oh Kansas! I can’t believe we lost him already!

KANSAS: Oh honey, it’s… it’s not our fault

MARRA: Of course it is! It’s because he didn’t love us.

KANSAS: Are you crazy? Of course he loved us.

MARRA: Then why did he go?

(There is a sudden jumble of piano chords. Both look up, startled.)

KANSAS: What was that?

MARRA: (overjoyed) He’s back!

(Another jumble of piano chords.)

KANSAS: You’re in a lot of trouble!

MARRA: Oh Kansas!

KANSAS: Bad piano! Bad boy!

MARRA: Kansas, don’t yell at him!

KANSAS: Marra, he’s not going to learn anything if we don’t discipline him! (to the PIANO) Bad boy! Bad Piano! Bad!

MARRA: (soothing) Honey, it’s late. Let’s just leave it till the morning.

KANSAS: If he’s still here in the morning.

MARRA: (Trying to minimize the situation now that everything’s okay) We’ve locked all the doors and all the windows. There’s nothing else we can do.

KANSAS: (still pissed) We can send him back.

MARRA: It’s Sunday.

KANSAS: First thing on Monday then. (to the PIANO) You hear that? You either shape up or you’ll be sitting with the other Steinways in the shop window.

(No response from the PIANO. A long pause. MARRA puts her hands on KANSAS’ shoulders.)

MARRA: Come on, honey. Let’s go back to bed.

(They start to leave. Suddenly, there is the sound of particularly nasty chords being struck on the PIANO. MARRA and KANSAS turn as a unit.)

MARRA: Oh no…

KANSAS: Great. Now who’s gonna clean that up.

(Crossfade. KANSAS and MARRA are in their bedroom, getting ready to return to bed.)

MARRA: (to the audience) We go back to bed. Kansas is riled up. His general anxietydisorder in full gear. He complains about his leg hurting and how the piano is going to give him a heart attack at thirty. (to KANSAS) You don’t really want to send him back, do you?

KANSAS: Of course not. I was just angry.

MARRA: Remember what they said at the shop: it takes time to break these guys into a new home. We just have to be patient.

KANSAS: I know. I just figured a used piano… well, we wouldn’t need to go through all this… But I guess we do. (after a moment) Though of course, we could always just get a puppy or a… a car or something.

MARRA: (a bit perturbed) Well sure, I guess. That’s not exactly special or different or anything but… you know… we could… be just like… everybody else.

KANSAS: (smiling, indulgently) Marra, we are just like everybody else.

MARRA: (firmly) No, we’re not. (beat) God, I hope we’re not.

(They both stare out at the audience, looking vaguely troubled. After a moment, KANSAS reaches over and takes MARRA’s hand, squeezing it. Crossfade to the kitchen the next morning. MARRA enters, eating a bowl of yogurt and granola.)

MARRA: (to the audience) The next morning everything seems better. The sun is shining, birds are singing in the trees outside, and I am eating the best granola and organic yogurt with imported peaches ever. But it doesn’t last.

KANSAS: (offstage) OH SHIT! (MARRA almost drops her bowl, but doesn’t move, just listens as KANSAS yells, interrupted by various loud, jangled piano chords) Bad! Bad! Bad Piano! Bad Boy! Bad fucking mother fucking piece of shit fucking damn fuck shit piano fuck!

MARRA: (to the audience) And that’s the clean version.

(MARRA heaves a sigh and exits. Crossfade to a gym locker room. PIERRE and KANSAS enter, changing into their street clothes.)

KANSAS: I don’t know. I feel like maybe Marra’s being way too coddly with the thing, but then I also feel like I’m being an asshole about it all.

PIERRE: You haven’t sent it back yet. I think you’re being very patient.

KANSAS: Well, if I did Marra would be heartbroken.

PIERRE: She’d get over it.

KANSAS: She’d make me pay for it every step of the way.

PIERRE: And you’d put up with that?

KANSAS: That’s life when you’re married, man.

PIERRE: I wouldn’t know.

(PIERRE discretely leans into his gym bag does a line of coke. KANSAS, not entirely comfortable with this, nervously glances around.)

KANSAS: Jesus, Pierre, it’s only one.

PIERRE: One thirty. (he stretches) Wanna get a beer?

(Crossfade to a nice little sidewalk café. MARRA and DIONNE are having coffee.)

DIONNE: It sounds like such a nightmare.

MARRA: It really has been but I refuse to give up hope.

DIONNE: Good for you.

MARRA: Thanks. I’m so glad you agree. Kansas is trying to be as supportive as possible but his patience is wearing thin.

DIONNE: Well, men just process things differently.

MARRA: Like… with utter violent rage?

DIONNE: As long as it’s not towards you sure, why not? Just remember: this is all harder for him. After all, the piano is a reflection of Kansas. And the problems you’re having with it mirror the problems with him.

MARRA: Really? I… I never thought of it that way.

DIONNE: (very sincere, without a trace of bitchiness) You’re not a symbolic thinker like I am.

MARRA: (deeply thoughtful) No. You’re right. (brightening) But how insightful you’ve been, Dionne. I knew there was a reason I needed to have lunch with you.

(They smile at each other, very happy to be friends. The lights crossfade to KANSAS and PIERRE sitting in a bar drinking cosmos and chain smoking.)

PIERRE: So have you even thought about getting a piano wrangler?

KANSAS: Well, yeah, of course, but, Marra

PIERRE: Oh, man, I knew it.

KANSAS: Women are very sensitive about that kind of thing.

PIERRE: So she shot you down?

KANSAS: I haven’t even brought it up with her.

PIERRE: You are such a pussy.

KANSAS: Pierre. I’m not a pussy because I try to respect my wife’s feelings.

PIERRE: Dude. You’re a pussy because you don’t respect your own. (belching, but in a gentlemanly fashion) I’m sure you can find a polite way to bring up what you both need as a couple, without hurting your wife’s needs as an individual. There is, after all, a polite way to do everything. (to the barkeep) Hey, Pablo! Another round please. (to KANSAS) You hearing me?

KANSAS: Yeah. I guess.

PIERRE: Stop being so bummed, Kansas. It’ll all work out okay.

KANSAS: I know. I know. It’s just… pianos, man. You know?

PIERRE: Yeah I do. (sagely) That’s why I’m a guitar guy.

(The lights crossfade to DIONNE and MARRA, walking through the park together, sharing an ice-cream cone. Some kind of fruity flavor.)

DIONNE: So, I have an idea for you.

MARRA: (looking around) Do you think people think we’re lesbians when we share the ice cream like this?

DIONNE: My sister-in-law is really boring, she’s like normal as hell

MARRA: That’s not very nice, Dee.

DIONNE: No really, believe me, we went to Thanksgiving there last year and the patterns on their flatware was just like Hello, I’m from a hope chest. Anyway, she’s a bore but she’s also a piano wrangler and apparently she’s one of the best.

MARRA: A piano wrangler? Are you serious?

DIONNE: Don’t get offended.

MARRA: I can’t believe you think I need to get outside help for this.

DIONNE: I don’t think it could hurt.

MARRA: (getting upset) I can’t believe I can’t handle my own baby grand piano!

DIONNE: Marra, it’s okay. Everybody knows they’re difficult.

MARRA: But Kansas and I aren’t everybody, Dee, we’re special. We’re young and we’re smart and we’re talented and we should be able to do this; this should be easy.

DIONNE: It’s not about winning, Marra. It’s about your piano. (stopping, taking MARRA’s hands tenderly) Honey, I know it hurts your pride, your needs as a woman, but it’s okay to need help. You want this piano to really belong to you, right? (MARRA nods, tearfully) Well, then you know what you need to do.

(DIONNE exits.)

MARRA: (to the audience) And so we call Dionne’s sister-in-law, and schedule a night for her to come over. Which, since I burst into tears on the phone, takes about half an hour longer to do than it should. But, well, anyway, it’s Wednesday.

(A doorbell rings. Crossfade to KANSAS opening a door. He is dressed in semi-formal attire, as if he was going to a cocktail party. ANN steps in. She is neatly dressed and has a professional manner.)

ANN: Hi.

KANSAS: Hi. Ann?

ANN: Yes. Kansas?

KANSAS: That’s me. Come inside.

ANN: Thanks.

(A long pause. Silence. They smile at each other, but it’s like a stand-off.)

KANSAS: (abruptly) Well, follow me.

(He turns and walks. ANN follows, looking just vaguely skittish. Crossfade into the kitchen, where MARRA is making appetizers, a fairly large and elaborate amount. She’s slightly overdressed as well, and way too chipper.)

KANSAS: Honey. This is Ann.

MARRA: (big smile, hand outstretched) Hello! Welcome! Thank you so much for coming! Welcome!

ANN: Thanks.

MARRA: I made some avocado and feta something or others. I read about them in Sunset or Real Simple. Please have one. They’re supposed to be fabulous.

ANN: (cautiously, sensing their underlying panic) I’m sure they’re great.

KANSAS: Would you like some wine, Ann?

ANN: I’m okay, thank you.

KANSAS: Are you sure? I’m going to have some.

MARRA: (to ANN) You’d better have some. Kansas hates to open a bottle and not finish it.

KANSAS: (handing ANN a glass of wine) It’s a great year. Drink it slowly and you can taste volcanic ash in there.

ANN: Thank you. (she sets the glass aside, untouched) So, Dionne tells me-

MARRA: Oh my God! Dionne’s just great, isn’t she?

ANN: (totally thrown for a loop by this) Yes. Yes she is.

MARRA: We’ve been friends forever. Almost one or two years. We worked at the samePR firm. Did she tell you that?

ANN: (slowly) No… she just told me about the piano. You are the couple with the piano,right?

KANSAS: Yes we are. (he downs his glass of wine) Another?

ANN: I’m okay.

MARRA: Don’t badger her, Kansas, just because you have a drinking problem. (she hands him ANN’s glass). Here. (to ANN) I’m sorry, we must seem totally ridiculous to you.

ANN: What? Oh… no. Not at all.

KANSAS: It’s just that, well… (he exchanges a brief glance with MARRA) …we’re not… we’re not usually…

(He doesn’t finish. MARRA shrugs and looks at ANN for sympathy.)

MARRA: I’m sure you know what we’re going to say.

ANN: You’re not usually the kind of people who this sort of thing happens to?

MARRA: (taking ANN’s hand with extreme gratitude) Thank you.

ANN: It’s okay. Nobody ever thinks they are. (beat) Can I see the piano, please?

(They cross into the living room as the lights shift.)

KANSAS: We moved everything to the other side of the room after it broke the aquarium. All the truly valuable stuff is now in the office or the dining room.

ANN: Why the books against the wall?

KANSAS: Those were actually the first things it nailed.

ANN: Trying to re-arrange them?

KANSAS: No, trying to destroy them. Throwing them on the ground, out the window, into the toilet

MARRA: But that only happened once, and only because Kansas tried to put them back.

KANSAS: The piano doesn’t seem to mind them as long as we don’t put them too close.

ANN: I see. What about you?

MARRA: Us?

ANN: Does the piano mind you?

(KANSAS and MARRA exchange looks. KANSAS drinks some more.)

MARRA: Well, he… won’t let us put things on him.

KANSAS: Yeah, and sometimes he makes these noises like

(THE PIANO suddenly emits a series of harsh, atonal chords. ANN nods, taking it all in.)

MARRA: (carefully, after a moment) And once he… sort of… hit Kansas. With his cover. (quickly) But I think it was just an accident.

KANSAS: (low, angry) You think that because you don’t want to admit the truth.

MARRA: (to ANN) So, all in all, I wouldn’t say that he likes us.

ANN: I see. Well. Why don’t you give me a few minutes alone with him, okay?

MARRA: So you think you can help then?

ANN: I’ll do my best.

(Crossfade to MARRA and KANSAS sitting alone in the kitchen. KANSAS is on his second bottle of wine.)

MARRA: (to the audience) It’s been over two hours. Two hours that we’ve been hiding in the kitchen waiting to hear what we know will probably be bad news. I keep thinking: what have I done to deserve this? I keep thinking: why does even the simplest thing have to be so complicated? I keep thinking: It’s been over two hours. (to KANSAS) It’s been over two hours, you know. (KANSAS just shrugs) Maybe we should go in there. (another shrug) You’re completely wasted aren’t you?

(ANN steps in. MARRA and KANSAS look at her expectantly. ANN sighs.)

ANN: We need to talk.

(A moment of pantomime as she explains the situation. Perhaps some dramatic music swells up. Suddenly KANSAS screams.)

KANSAS: That stupid piece of shit!

MARRA: Don’t scream, Kansas, that’s only going to reinforce everything Ann’s been saying!

KANSAS: (turning on her) How can you defend this thing, Marra? Haven’t you listened to anything? He HATES us! He LOATHES us!

MARRA: He just doesn’t understand!

KANSAS: Oh he understands enough to look down on us! (to ANN) What was that you said? We’re not worthy of playing this dumb thing?

ANN: He doesn’t think you’re worthy of playing him that doesn’t mean you actually aren’t.

KANSAS: Right, just like when someone says, “You’re attractive, you’re just not attractive to me.” That basically adds up to “You’re ugly.”

ANN: (calmly) When you act ugly you are ugly. (beat) The same is true for vulgarity.

(A long moment. The air has been sucked from the room. KANSAS looks at MARRA, then at ANN, then at the PIANO, then back at ANN. ANN gives her customary sigh.)

ANN: Look, I know it’s hard to hear something like this. No one likes to know that they’re thought of as…

KANSAS: (just slightly combative) Vulgar?

ANN: Low. Coarse. Unrefined. Whatever you want to call it. The point is, no one likes to be thought of that way, least of all, I’m guessing, people like…

KANSAS: Us?

MARRA: Kansas! Ann is on our side, remember?

ANN: Well, technically, I’m on the piano’s side, but that’s only because I want him to have a good home here.

KANSAS: Why?

MARRA: What do you mean “why?”

KANSAS: I mean, why do we want to keep this piano anyway? If, as Ann says, he thinks he’s too good for us than we should just let him go be where he wants to be.

MARRA: What are you suggesting?

KANSAS: I don’t know. How about taking him to the park and leaving him there?

MARRA: It’s a piano, Kansas, not a child, it can’t fend for itself against the elements.One good rain and the finish would be destroyed!

KANSAS: It’s summer, Marra. He’ll be fine!

MARRA: Why are you being such an asshole?

KANSAS: Why do you care about this thing more than me?

ANN: (shouting to be heard) Listen, both of you, please! (silence; they both look at her) In situations like this, what I recommend is contacting the Piano’s previous owner and seeing if they have any insight.

KANSAS: And if they don’t?

ANN: Well, then maybe they’ll take him back. Anyway, there isn’t much more I can do. This isn’t a case of an untrained piano or a new one that doesn’t know any better. This piano is willfully shutting itself off from you. It’s a matter of personality conflicts.

MARRA: So what are our options?

ANN: Learn to live together. That’s pretty much it.

(ANN exits. The scene shifts into KANSAS and MARRA getting ready for bed.)

MARRA: (to the audience) We get ready for bed that night and Kansas doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t even complain. He often looks worried so that doesn’t bother me. What bothers is me is when he doesn’t look worried; when he doesn’t have anything on his face at all except for a big fat blank, locking me out. I’m going to go back to the store tomorrow. (KANSAS looks at her.)

What?

(He shakes his head and turns his back to her; a moment.)

Love you too.

(Crossfade to the piano store. MARRA walks in from the street accompanied by the tinkle of the doorbells, looking around for RANDOLPH, the proprietor. He is a reserved, clean looking man wearing a suit and carrying a feather duster. He dusts fairly continuously.)

RANDOLPH: Hello. Come to buy another piano?

MARRA: Ah, no, I’m afraid not. We’re having a hard enough time with the one we already have.

RANDOLPH: Ah, well… sometimes that is the case. You do know we don’t take returns, yes?

MARRA: I’m not looking to return him.

RANDOLPH: Oh? Good. That’s a long and pointless conversation we won’t need to have then. So what can I do for you?

MARRA: I was wondering: is there any way to get in touch with the previous owner of our piano?

RANDOLPH: I’m afraid that all adoptions are closed.

MARRA: I understand that, but, well, how do you expect anyone to successfully…raise… one of these things if there’s no background information or

RANDOLPH: And why do you think it would matter if there was?

MARRA: Because then we’d know what we were getting into.

RANDOLPH: Well, if you did then it wouldn’t be a risk!

MARRA: (a little mystified by this) Owning a piano shouldn’t be a risk.

RANDOLPH: How can it be anything else? (beat; slightly condescending:) I understand it’s not working out. Maybe you dived into something for all the wrong reasons, yes? But there’s no going back now, and there’s no easy solution. If there were, it wouldn’t be music. And what we’re dealing with is something that makes music. Have a nice day.

MARRA: (refusing to be deterred) Listen, maybe if I knew more about what made the piano act this way-

RANDOLPH: It would appear that you are what makes it act this way.

MARRA: But we can’t be solely responsible. It does have a history, after all, and that has to inform some of its actions, right? I mean, I don’t understand why you’re not helping us here, our hearts are in the right place even if we’re not

RANDOLPH: –remotely worthy of owning a piano?

MARRA: THAT’S NOT TRUE! (beat) What about us makes you say that?

(He looks at her. She pleads with her eyes. He sighs.)

RANDOLPH: Madam, I am but a simple piano salesman. I cannot solve your identity crisis for you and my wares were not created for the purpose of making you feel special. If you chose the piano because you assumed it would fit comfortably into your life then you are a fool. If you want to rise above that then I suggest you start by accepting the piano for what it is and stop treating it as a glorified table. Otherwise, just get rid of him.

MARRA: (sulky) You don’t take returns.

RANDOLPH: No we don’t. (beat) Now, is there anything else I can help you with today?

(MARRA doesn’t answer him. He turns away and starts dusting something.)

MARRA: We’re not bad people, you know.

RANDOLPH: No, you’re just not terribly courageous ones either. (looking at her over his shoulder) I mean… have you even tried to play him?

MARRA: How could I? I’m too scared to

RANDOLPH: Exactly. (going back to dusting) Music is a risk, Madam. Not an accessory.

(He moves on. MARRA stands there, speechless, pissed, and progressively thoughtful. The lights crossfade back into the apartment. MARRA goes to center and stands there, looking out at the Piano.)

MARRA: Hi. Please don’t… I’ve got something to say, and I’m hoping you’ll listen. I know you don’t like us very much (The PIANO sounds a few sarcastic notes.) …or… at all… but still, I was hoping…

(The PIANO is quiet. Behind MARRA, KANSAS enters, unseen by her. All her attention is focused on the PIANO.)

MARRA: Look, I know. I know Kansas and I, we’re… not what you’re used to (The PIANO starts to cut in but she keeps talking). You’re not what we’re used to either, okay? And fine, I’ll be honest: we’re not even sure why we bought a piano, I think we just wanted to look cultured…

(The PIANO sounds a single, sharp chord.)

I mean, I think …I… just wanted to look… I’m an idiot, okay?

(KANSAS visibly reacts to this, but remains quiet.)

I’m compensating for something and I’m not even sure what it is or who I’m trying to impress.

(As she speaks she moves slowly towards the PIANO.)

And I know it’s not attractive. And I know it’s driving Kansas kind of nuts. And I know there are probably tons of people you’d rather be living with. But for better or worse, you got us.

(The PIANO sounds a note, but it’s less abrasive than usual.)

And believe it or not… I do really want you for the right reasons and I’m not, like… the worst piano player in the world. And I’ll promise to get better, if you just… give me a chance.

(KANSAS is watching her, rather moved in spite of himself.)

I mean, I can’t unless you do, so… help me appreciate you.

(She puts her hand out to the PIANO.)

Please.

(A long moment. THE PIANO doesn’t respond. KANSAS watches. MARRA remains hopeful)

LIGHTS FADE ON HER