January 12 Play: THE BEARD PLAY

#12: THE BEARD PLAY - by Ed Valentine
© January 12, 2010 * ed@edvalentine.com

LIGHTS UP: A MAN in a barber chair, covered with a haircutter's apron. On his face: an absurdly long elaborate beard that winds down toward the floor. Behind him, a mirror. To the side, THE BARBER waits with big sharp scissors.

MAN: Wait.

BARBER: How long?

MAN: One second longer. One and a half.
-
Ready.
(BARBER goes to cut the beard.)
Wait! Not ready.

BARBER: Mister –

MAN: Been a long time.

BARBER: One snip –

MAN: You don’t understand!

BARBER: Try me.
(Leans, sharpens his scissors.)

MAN: We go wayback, my beard and me. Way wayback.
I’m attached to it.

BARBER: Naw. It’s attached to you. There’s a diff’rence. It’s attached to you, see?

(The BEARD rises up like a rattlesnake. Or an anaconda.)

MAN: (Evil voice:) Wanna make something of it?

BARBER: Don’t sass me, son, I got scissors.

(BEARD subsides. Normal voice:)

MAN: Sorry.
-
We go backback. Wayback.
(The BEARD rises like a tentacle and caresses him. Enfolds him.)
This beard been with me through thickthin,
Through thickskin and thin,
Shirts and skins, fast food, fine dining, fast friends,
faster wimmin.
So many wimmin.
So many, so many. So fast.
Through it all, my sticky beard sticks with me.
Wimmin come and go,
But the beard do grow. Man, that beard do grow.
Naw, Friend: can’t cut the Beard.

(Gets up. Takes off the apron. BARBER pushes MAN down into the chair.)

BARBER: Sit down, Son.
(To the BEARD:)
You too.
(Holds up scissors. BEARD rears back, wary.)
Boy, that beard’s no good for you.
Makes you done do things you don’t otherwise do.

MAN: Now, listen -

BARBER: SIT DOWN, I SAY.
Son, I got the scissors. And I know how to use ‘em.
It's for your own good. One. Two. THREE.

(BARBER feints with the scissors, like a fencer. The beard parries him. On the third feint, he thrusts the scissors into the BEARD – which fights him, like a snake. Chokes him, like an anaconda.)

Ain’t – frightened – of YOU!

(As he's being strangled, the BARBER raises the scissors and cuts the BEARD with one big snip. BEARD falls to the ground, in death throes. BARBER steps on it. MAN reacts as if amputated.

MAN: AH! AH!!!
(BARBER turns MAN towards mirror. MAN breathes. Pleased:)
Ahhhh!
(Despondent:)
Ah.

BARBER: There there. We all been through it.
(Feels his own smooth chin.)
Let’s finish your shave.
Buck up, Son: it’s trimmin’ day!

(He hums a merry song. Fur flies. Music up. The BEARD slinks off to die.)

END OF PLAY.