Cocaine Rat Cage By Josh Overton This short play was commissioned by Hull Truck Theatre to be part of the 2018 Grow Festival. Premiering in Hull Truck Theatre’s Studio, audiences were able to see three punchy 15-minute plays by Hull writers Lydia, Jim English and Josh Overton Plot This play follows a chance encounter between Bobby and Seb. Notes: Recommended for 16+. This play contains strong language, references to drugs and suicide. If you see a character name on the left, then the dialogue on the right should be spoken by that character. Text in [brackets] or italics describes what the audience sees or hears on stage that
isn’t dialogue. About the playwright: Josh Overton is a playwright, poet and bartender in that order. Working with companies up and down the country from his home in Hull he has created work ranging from the dark, violent and political to goofy family friendly nonsense. His latest work includes Dungeons and Dragons: An unofficial adventure (2019) a choose your own adventure family show and Thank You for Doing Nothing (2020) a comedy musical about the spin doctors convincing us to destroy the planet.
COCAINE RAT CAGE By Josh Overton SEB- Mid-fifties, local. BOBBY- Late twenties early thirties, local. An empty stage Seb enters, he is in no hurry. He checks his watch, he is in no hurry. He reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a packet of fags. Briefly he searches his pockets for a lighter, he finds one in the last place he looks. He opens the fag packet. It’s empty. He laughs. He tosses the packet. He goes to leave when; Bobby: [entering] ‘ere mate, you got a lighter? Seb stops. Considers ignoring him. Doesn’t. Seb: Yeah, somewhere, gimme a second. He has forgotten where he’s put it and goes through the pocket dance again. Bobby approaches, scooping up the discarded fag packet as he does. Seb: It’s empty. Bobby: Yeah I know. He pockets it. Seb notices. Seb: Alright then. Here Bobby takes the light Seb: Keep it. Bobby: Eh? Seb: Keep it. Bobby: Why? Seb: I don’t need it.
Bobby: Giving up? beat Seb: Yeah. Bobby: That’s good man that’s good. Ye gotta take care of yourself. Lost a friend to cancer, you gotta take care of yourself yeah. He tries to light his cigarette He fails. Bobby: Fuckin’ wind, hang on. He tries again Seb: Alright, well I need toHe fails again Bobby: Fuck sake. He grins Bobby: You scammin’ me? Seb: What? Bobby: It’s fucked mate, Ye fuckin’ with me or what? Seb: No. Sorry fella I didn’t realise. Bobby: Hmm. He studies Seb He grins with the cigarette in his teeth He pulls a swiss army knife from his pocket, flips out the smallest knife and fiddles with the lighter. This goes on too long. Bobby: Nope, no chance. Seb: Hmmm, Sorry.. Bobby: Not your fault He pockets the pieces of lighter. He takes the empty cig packet and places his cigarette in it.
Bobby: Recycling see? Beat Bobby: ‘ere, while you’re here, can you do me a favour? Seb: Already done you one haven’t I? Bobby: Two actually, the offer of a light and then the gifting of a lighter. In theory you’re two up right now. Seb: Exactly Bobby: But both of those were fucked from the start, wouldn’t ye say? Seb: Suppose. Bobby: Doomed to failure before I even asked you. Seb: I suppose. Bobby: So really, aren’t we square? Seb: We aren’t anything. Bobby: ‘course we are. We’re plenty of things mate. Seb: Beg your pardon Bobby: You know. We’re talking. Or are we haggling? Either way that’s one thing we are Seb: I don’t need this todaBobby: Disagreeing, that’s something else. Seb: Look fellaBobby still has the swiss army knife Bobby: [devoid of threat] What? Bobby still has the swiss army knife Bobby: What’s your name?
Beat Seb: Seb. Bobby: Short for Sebastian, proper name for a proper man yeah? Your mum’s choice, she knew too many fuckin’- Keiths or Phils that never did shit all with their lives. It’s a good sign. She cared about who you were gonna be, cared about giving you a good shot. Seb: You’ve lost me. Bobby: Your name man. How many fuckin’ business owners, CEO’s or whatever, you think are called De-Shawn? Or Peaches? It means something. Way I see it, you know a lot about a man’s mum from what she named him. And when you know a lot about a man’s mum you can figure out a lot about him . You get me? Seb: What’s your name? Bobby smiles. Bobby: [it’s] Shit. He puts the knife away Bobby: Sebastian. That’s someone who’s mum loved him yeah? I’m guessing she treated you with the same respect as she treated your name, putting herself out so you could have the best possible version of whatever you childhood was. And I’m guessing by the way you force your lips round the word ‘DERNT’ [don’t] that you’re from up my way. Means you’re less likely to have a dad don’t it. SO- still guessing- I imagine you didn’t have the brightest of fuckin’ futures when you came shootin’ out the womb yeah? Mum, works her arse off for years, trying to give you a better time than she had but that means you don’t see her that much, become more attached to the babysitter or grandparents or whatever. Tension in the house, doors kicked in, tantrums, shouting, maybe a slap or two cuz you’re too young to understand that her being stressed and distant and short tempered and hard to talk to all the time was actually symptoms of her loving you more than all the other mums out there who were nice to their kids. By the time you’re old enough to work this out you’ve been at each other’s throats for so long your relationship is fucking poison and even though you might try to fix it you don’t know how you could actually go about doing that because you don’t really know who she is as a person. So you fill the gap with a bunch of shitty girlfriends over a bunch of shitty years. Eventually Mum starts to fade away with age or illness or whatever, she doesn’t even look like the person you hated for so long. You see her once or twice for conversations that are more silent than not before the inevitable does what it does best and that’s it. So you gotta do well for yourself, earn that boring, office-tie-wearin’ name your mam gave you. Go to uni, get a degree in fucking accounting or whatever. Trap yourself with a girlfriend
now wife? and maybe a kid. 2? Become valuable. In mam’s honour. Yeah? Seb: [neither yes or no] What do you want? Bobby: I wanna ask you a favor Seb. Will you do me a favor? Seb: Depends on the favour Bobby: Smart one you are. Gotta respect that. Beat. Will you lend me 30p. Seb: What? Bobby: For the bus like. Seb: You’re joking me.. Bobby: Swear down its all I’m after. Seb: I don’t have anything on me. Bobby grins Bobby: I know you’re lying, Seb: There won’t be any buses for hoursAnd why is it always the bus? Bobby: It’s an acceptable fib A white lie. It's a courtesy we do you. Offer you the excuse to feel good for donating to a worthy cause. A lie for a lie. Just like what Jesus didn’t say. Bobby gestures Bobby: Cuz of course we know you’re all liars. Every fucker who asks you for 30p on the street, you think we all labor under some grand fucking delusion that everyone we ask just happens to have no change on ‘em? ‘Sorry mate got nothin’ on me’.
You think the homeless and the druggies and the drunks of Hull are all real impressed with how much plastic’s taking off? Gonna start getting credit card machines to beg with cause real money’s a thing of the past? Seb: Why’s it always 30p? Beat Bobby grins Bobby: Gimme 29p and I’ll tell you Seb produces his wallet, removing from it a plastic card before tossing it to Bobby. Seb: I wasn’t lying. Bobby: Fuck me, ye weren’t. Exactly fucking nothing. Don’t I look a right prick eh? He laughs Seb: Restored a bit of faith in humanity yeah? Bobby: Maybe. Unless you’re a special case. He goes to toss the wallet back. Seb: Keep it. Pause. Pause again. Bobby: Giving up? Pause Seb: Yeah. Bobby pockets the wallet Bobby: Special case. Seb: I guess so. Pause Pause again Bobby: You gotta Wife? Seb: Yeah. Bobby: Kids? Seb: 2.
Bobby: Knew it. Pause Bobby: Did you know Pete? Seb: I don’t know. Bobby: Nice fella, used to sell big issue outside that sainsbury’s on Newland. The one that used to be Jackson’s. Figured, you’re coming from that way, maybe ye live round here, maybe ye knew him. Seb: No. Bobby: Tall bloke. Scraggly beard. Scrawny as death. Used to call him Heroin Hagrid. Seb: I don’t think so. Bobby: You must’ve just not noticed him then is all. He used to sit outside Piper every night, read Robert Ludlum books. Always found that fascinating. Seb: Yeah? Bobby: Definitely. Put him one step ahead of the other homeless guys I knew. Seb: Because he read Ludlum? Bobby: Because he read. Seb: Right. Bobby: He took some of the change he’d get or the allowance the big issue guys gave him or whatever, I dunno how it works, but he’d take some of that money to oxfam up the road and buy a book. Always Ludlum as well, cause he knew he liked that stuff. Then he’d re-donate the one he’d just finished. And that’s important man that’s important. It’s the difference between surviving and living mate. He gave a shit about entertaining himself. Slept rough, ate nothing but discount sandwiches. Didn’t smoke. Read Books. Cared about how he spent his time. He wasn’t an animal, ye get me? Wouldn’t let himself be one. He decided he had value even though no one else did.
You couldn’t ever tell him to throw it away He didn’t have a wife and 2 kids, ye get me? Seb: I get you. Bobby: Tell me ‘bout ‘em. Seb: No. Bobby: C’mooooon. What am I gonna do with the knowledge? Not got the balls for kidnap and torture, me. C’mon. Not gonna let you go ‘til you tell me. Seb: Why? Bobby: cuz it’s worth a shotPause Seb looks at him. Seb: There was a man, German I think, I read about him years ago. His job was to study rats reaction to heavy stimulants. Bobby: [excited for reasons we can’t be certain of] Cocaine rats yeah? Little fuckers running their back legs off, high as God. I think I know it yeah. Seb: Well in the 60’s the Americans stuck a rat in a cage and gave him two water bottles, one with water and the other with water laced with cocaine. Bobby: Knew it. Seb: And the poor thing went mad and drank the cocaine water until it died. So the governments of the world took this as proof that cocaine is hyper addictive and kills you. And this German guy, I think he was German, he took it upon himself years later to prove them wrong. Builds this little rat paradise full of, I dunno, rat toys and exercise wheels and, you knowBobby: Rat prostitutes. Seb: Just, stuff for them to do you know, and he gave them the same two water bottles: cocaine water and water. And he got a completely different outcome. These rats had lives, little rat friends and that. So they only ended up using the cocaine water recreationally, on and off to enjoy whatever they were doing more . And he made a point, they quoted him in this article I read and it stuck with me like nothing else. Went something like ‘the cocaine isn’t the problem, the rat cage is’. Hit me like a steam train. It just-
beat Bobby: Which one’s your cage? Seb: I’m really not sure. Bobby: Look like one, feel like the other? There is a pause. Seb is giving up Bobby is not. Bobby: First born- Sebastian Junior yeah? Beat Seb: Robin. Bobby: AhGot the boy bit right though. Seb: She’s a girl. Robin, she’s 7, likes painting and shouting. And I’ve got a 3 year old, Poppy, she likes Peppa the Pig. Bobby: Got a photo? Seb: I don’t. Bobby: No I guess ye wouldn’t. Love ‘em? Seb: Course I do. beat Bobby: Wanted a boy? Pause Seb: Didn’t want any. Bobby: Now that’s interesting. Accident or compromise? Seb: Bit of both I reckon. Look I’m notBobby: What’s your wife called? Seb: Alright mate I’m going now you can’t-
Bobby: Do you love her? Seb: Fuck off now yeah? Just just shut up and fuck off, I’ve gotBeat Bobby: What? Stuff to do? I don’t think you do mate. Seb: You don’t know me alright? You don’t know anything about my fucking life, you don’t get to fucking judge me or or or analyse me or any of that shit. You have no idea okay? It’s so easy to think that it should all be fine when you don’t know anything about itBobby: Tell meSeb: I fuckin’ willYou everBeat Seb: What do you want from your life? Best case scenario Bobby: Best case? A job that pays well, a wife and two kids named Robin and Poppy. Seb: Fuck you Bobby: Swear down, I’d be a very happy man. beat Seb: I know I should be. S’not that easy though. Bobby: Yeah? Seb: Thought all I had to do was get away from where I’d grown up, get a degree, get a job where I’d wear a suit and people would call me sir, fall in love, buy a house, go on holidays. There’s that hole in your chest yeah? You’ve gotta have it too, I reckon all my lot from the estate did. Maybe everyone does, you know what I mean. You gotta fill the hole with stuff, early on that’s beers and sex and football and for some people that’s enough. Bobby: Oh? I’m jealous of them. Seb: Too fucking right. But it eats at ye, and you get it in your head that it’ll only go away when you’ve got everything you want, everything you need, everything you deserve yeah?
Get ideas above your station, Start dreaming about the good life. Bobby: Like your mam never had Seb: And it tortures you, fucks with you for years, tricks you into being happy with shit you should be fixing- cause soon enough you’ll be where you need to be so all the hassle’s worth it. Bobby: Yeah? Seb: I studied law. Hated it. Every day, but I figured it was all worth it cause it’d get me where I needed to be. Bobby: [his voices betraying a flash of aggression] And it did. You got the house, the family, the holidays. But nothing changes yeah? Seb: It does for a while, ye think it fills the hole but eventually you realise it’s just obscured your view, you’re just as empty as before, but it’s worse. Cause now you feel like a prick for it. Before you were in a shit place, now you’re not and you still feel like you are, so you’re ungrateful and you make the lives of people who depend on you worse for it. You look at a beautiful woman who tells you she loves you and two beautiful kids you don’t deserve and you hate yourself for not being happy. For them not being enough. So you know that something’s wrong with you. It’s not the world keeping you down it’s not that you haven’t got what you want. You’re just wrong. You look like you’re in the one cage but you feel like you’re in the other. Bobby: I get ye. Seb: You don’t. Not ‘til you’ve been here, not til you’ve been here. You can’t know me. Bobby: I do. Not this . He gestures at Seb But I’ve known plenty of ‘you-s’ in my time. Plenty of ‘we never saw it coming’-s Plenty of ‘he seemed like such a happy man’-s Seems like you’re gonna be just another one. I’m sure you could do better than that. Seb: Don’t talk to me like I’m thick Bobby: I’m talking to you like you’re a person alright? Trying a lot harder than you are to save your girlies a shit tonne of therapy in the future yeah? Seb: I’m done
He turns to leave Bobby pulls the SA knife again Bobby: Not yet you fucking aren’t. You don't get to throw that shit away alright? Not when I’d’ve killed for your fucking life. Seb: You don't get it Bobby: Of course I fucking do. No one is built properly to live in this poisonous fucking world, the best we can fucking do is make the most of it, something you seem to have done pretty fucking well and now you’re gonna piss it all away cause you’re not happy enough? Tell you what since you don’t care about it either way why don’t we fucking switch yeah? I’ll get a fucking haircut and wear that nice jacket of yours, learn to talk ‘rich dickhead’ -or whatever language it is you think your fucking speaking- and you can start begging random dickheads on the street for the spare change to fund your drinking habit. Then maybe you’ll wrap your head around how big a mistake you’re making while I’m fucking your wife and teaching your kids to respect their fucking lives yeah? See how much better your house looks when you’re sleeping on the bench over the road from it! Pause Seb: You think we can just switch these feelings off. Be happy because we could be even less happy. Bobby: Nah mate. I’m saying if ye aren’t gonna be happy either way Might as well fake it another 30 years Least you’ll be comfortable Remembered. You’ve got nothing to lose. Poppy Robin and the Missus? Be right fuckin’ sad otherwise. Pause again. Seb: What happened to Pete? Bobby: What? Seb: Homeless Pete. What happened to him? Bobby: Oh. No fucking idea. Seb: Of course. He begins to chuckle, the laugh taking over, joyous and too much. Bobby joins in. There is nothing else either of them can do.
They calm down. Bobby: I’m sorry. beat Seb: Oh aye? Bobby: Mm. Don’t mean to imply, you know, that what you’re considerin’ is selfish. Just. If ye hate yerself now, i promise ye it’ll be twice as bad when ye got sea rushin towards yer head. Seb: Yeah. Bobby: You get me? Seb: Yeah. He is tired now. He turns to leave. Bobby: Where ye going? Pause Seb: For a walk. Bobby: Alright mate. Cheers for the wallet yeah? Seb: My pleasure. He is gone. Bobby watches him for a bit, curious. He turns back to us and rummages through his pockets. He pulls out the cigarette and a completely different lighter. He clicks the lighter once, twice, to check it works, which it does. Brilliantly. He turns and leaves the way he entered, going to light his cigarette as he does. The End.