Dear Reader, Thanks for stumbling upon this little story, the result of summer boredom coupled with two of my obsessions: The Venture Bros. and theatre. As I state in the title, this is based on a Christopher Durang play, which I suggest you read someday if you haven't already. This is also based on characters from the [adult swim] show The Venture Bros. (which belongs to Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer). Which, I hope if you've gotten this far, you've seen before. I tend to think of this as kind of an Alternate-Reality thing; a might have been. But a few things are the same; The Monarch still yells everything, and is still wearing his wings (even with his stuffy uniform). Brock still plays everything cool. I'm not sure what else to say...So...here goes!
Death Comes To Us All, Queen Etherea
Based on a play by Christopher Durang, "Death Comes To Us All, Mary Agnes"
Cast of Characters: (in order of appearance)
*Ginnie, a maid
*The Monarch, Colonel Gentleman's secretary
*Brock, the butler
*Dr. Venture, son of Jonas Venture and superscientist (a bit of a failure)
*Jonas Venture, Jr., twin brother of Dr. Venture, an superscientist (a successful one)
*Mrs. Quymn, wife of Colonel Gentleman, and mother of Tara Gentleman-Quymn
*Mrs. Gentleman-Quymn, a lady-adventurer and a bit of a scientist herself. Beautiful and vain. Ex-wife of Dr. Venture
*Nancy Venture, daughter of Dr. Venture and Tara Gentleman-Quymn. A twin.
*Drew Venture, daughter of Dr. Venture and Tara Gentleman-Quymn. The other twin.
*Dean, a delivery boy for Hankco
Queen Etherea, a woman who claims to be Brock's niece.
Hank, another delivery boy for Hankco
(* denotes characters in this sene)
Scene 1
The Setting is a Victorian drawing room in East Haddam, Vermont. Couch, chairs, and so forth. An oriental rug. A telephone on a telephone stand. After a few beats, the phone rings. Enter Ginnie, a maid.
Ginnie: Hello, Colonel Gentleman's residence, East Haddam, Vermont, the scullery maid speaking. No, I'm sorry, Colonel Gentleman cannot come to the phone. He's upstairs dying, Lord have mercy on his soul, and can't be disturbed. Can I take a message? Yes, you could speak to Ms. Quymn, if you like, but she's mad as a hatter, poor dear, and as liable to clip herself to death with scissors as not. Why don't you just give me the message? I am a trusted and beloved servant of many years' distinguished service. I first came to work for Colonel Gentleman in early May of 1982, to serve as a bodyguard for his adventuring stepdaughter, and what adventures they were…
(Enter The Monarch, secretary, dressed in a suit and tie, etc.)
Monarch: Ginnie, go back to the scullery! I've told you to keep to the kitchen, and that Brock takes care of the living quarters!
Ginnie: Well, I don't see that he answered the phone, did he? The way you treat Brock with such kowtowin' and praise you'd think he was the King of England or somethin'…
Monarch: Don't waste my time with your petty complaints! Just give me the phone and withdraw to the lower recesses of the house!
Ginnie: You can go straight to hell! (Exits.)
Monarch: (Into phone) Hello? This is The Monarch speaking!, Colonel Gentleman's secretary! May I help you? What? You make what? Speak up. Light bulbs? Why are you calling me, selling me light bulbs? Because you're what? Try to enunciate! Hand what? Oh. Handicapped. Oh, I see. Well, sorry, not interested. You should sell your lightbulbs to someone else. And stop stuttering.
(Hangs up. Brock, the butler enters, smoking, which is what he's doing the entire play.)
Brock: Hey, Monarch, maybe you should prepare Ms. Quymn. Her son-in-law and his brother are here.
Monarch: If you mean Dr. Venture and the freak, why don't you say Dr. Venture and the freak? Drop the formality for God's sake.
(The Monarch exits as Brock continues to smoke. Enter Doctor Venture with his brother, Doctor Jonas Venture, Jr.)
Jonas, Jr.: (Trying to be cheerful) Oh, Rusty, look—the mansion's the same as it always was!
Dr. Venture: (Dripping with sarcasm) So few things change.
Jonas, Jr.: And there's Brock!
Brock: Hey, Doc, …Doc.
Dr. Venture: Brock.
Jonas, Jr.: (Still teasing, trying to be lively, as usual) You look much older, Brock. How is the colonel? Is he very bad?
Brock: Yeah, we're all just waiting on him to kick it.
Jonas, Jr.: Does Ms. Quymn know what's going on?
Brock: Ms. Qymn has played crazy so long that she barely has to fake it anymore.
Jonas, Jr.: (A bit upset) The colonel hasn't been keeping her in the Tower again, has he?
Dr. Venture: Don't fight it. She's better off up there and out of the way, if you ask me.
Jonas, Jr.: The colonel has such a cruel streak in him! (A slightly nervous laugh)
Dr. Venture: (interrupting) That must be where my bitch of an ex-wife gets it from.
Jonas, Jr.: Oh, please send for Ms. Quymn from the tower.
Brock: Already been done.
Dr. Venture: Speaking of my bitch of an ex-wife, has Tara arrived yet?
Brock: Not yet, Doc.
Dr. Venture: Well, it's not as if I'm exactly looking forward to seeing her after all these years.
Jonas, Jr.: (a poor attempt at comfort) Well, she is your ex-wife…
(Enter the Monarch and Ms. Quymn. Ms. Quymn is dressed in silver and black, her hands are bound together at the wrists, her eyes are wild and deeply circled. As she enters, she spits butterscotch pudding all over.)
Jonas, Jr.: Why, Ms. Quymn, whatever is the matter?
Monarch: (Calling offscreen) Ginnie! (Holding a dead rat.) I found her chewing on this when I went up there! (To Ms. Quymn) I've told you, you'll make yourself sick! (Waves dead rat in Ms. Quymn's face)
Jonas, Jr.: Mr. Monarch, please!
(Enters Ginnie)
Ginnie: What do you want? (purposefully ignoring Dr. Venture, speaking only to Jonas, Jr.) Oh, it's Dr. Venture, Jr… Are your two beautiful nieces here, yet?
Dr. Venture: No, they're not! And if you have a question about the girls, you can ask me. I'm their father, you know.
Jonas, Jr.: Rusty, please. Control yourself. It was just a question.
Monarch: Ginnie, Ms. Quymn has spit something up on the floor. Wipe it up!
Ginnie: May your soul rot in hell and the devils cause you unspeakable torment. (She wipes up the mess.)
Monarch: There is no hell, aside from the one that will be handed to you by the The Mighty Monarch! (The others stare briefly, and then continue on with what they were doing.) I shall leave you to your memories. Brock, please remove the rat.
(Brock and the Monarch exit. Ginnie exits as soon as she's finished cleaning up.)
Jonas, Jr.: (Bringing Ms. Quymn to the sofa) Ms. Quymn, do you remember me? Well, if you don't I wouldn't be surprised, really. But I'm sure you remember little Rusty Venture? (Doc Venture, who is standing sulkily in a corner casually rolls his eyes and waves a hand.) I remember you from before you first feigned madness. It was the summer Rusty and I were eight and we came to visit you and Tara one night while Dad threw a party for all his lady-friends. And the colonel had just gotten the first of his secretaries. Remember? It was Kiki, then, I think. (Is beginning to go off on a tangent) I began to ask myself why I had gotten trapped inside my brother's body, how that could have happened, and if I had only known…for forty years!
Dr. Venture: (cutting in, a little sadly) And I said to you, Ms. Quymn, will there ever be anyone in this world who will love me? Love me for what I am, and love me and not pity me? And you looked at me and you said "No," and I asked, "But Ms. Quymn, why?" And you said "Because there never was for me!"
Jonas, Jr.: (Picking right back up) Do you remember Ms. Quymn? There never was for me!
(Everyone in the room sheds a tear, even Doc, though he tries to hide it. Well, everyone except for Ms. Quymn, that is, who is wailing and raising her tied hands up and down in a rhythm.)
Dr. Venture: All right, short stuff, that's enough of the memories for today.
(Enter the Monarch with a large gong, which he strikes three times)
Monarch: May I remind you that we have a dying man in this house? We must have quiet!
(Enter Brock, still smoking)
Brock: Hey, Doc, your ex-wife's here. If you're gonna wanna avoid her, now'd be the time to leave.
Doctor Venture: Yes, I, uh might take a nap. It's uh, been a hard trip! Right, Jonas?
Jonas, Jr.: Rusty, I think you should tell her how you feel. Don't be afraid, I'll help you.
Dr. Venture: I don't need your help. Besides, there's plenty of time, all I, uh, need is uh,… a hot bath. (He exits quickly)
Jonas, Jr.: Why is the poor thing so timid?
Brock: You were a parasite, sucking the life out of him for the last fortysomething years.
Jonas, Jr.: Mind your place, Brock.
(Enter Ginnie)
Ginnie: They're coming! I saw them! The girls are here! And as beautiful as the day I last saw them last. More so.
Monarch: Get back to the scullery.
Ginnie: May eagles tear out your heart and scatter it to the winds.
(Enter Dr. Tara Gentleman-Quymn Venture, on either side of her her daughters, Nancy and Drew. She is as attractive as ever, but due to a medical condition and seizures, she has no feeling in one of her legs, and must walk with support from others, usually her daughters. Nancy and Drew are almost identical twins, distinguishable only by the freckles on Drew's nose. They, too, are well dressed.)
Tara: I've returned! (Pause.) How nice. The servants have gathered to greet us.
Ginnie: You look wonderful, ma'am.
Tara: Thank you, Ginnie.
Brock: (apathetic.) Yeah, you look nice…
Tara: Do I really?
Brock:…yeah.
Monarch: Colonel Gentleman has been expecting you!
Tara: One always wants one's children at one's death bed.
Ginnie: The girls look wonderful too, ma'am. As beautiful as their mother is stunning.
Tara: Thank you, dear. It's the Amazonian sun, I expect. Everyone looks better tanned.
Jonas, Jr.: (Playfully) Hello, sis!
Tara: You must be a new entertainment of father's?
Jonas, Jr.: I called you "sis".
Tara: Did you? Well, I can't be expected to listen to every word people say to me. Girls, help me sit down.
(Nancy and Drew help her to a chair, then stand by her.)
Jonas, Jr.: I'm your ex-husband, Rusty's, long lost twin brother. Well, I was living inside him, so I'm not sure about "lost"…(laughs, but dies off, seeing this is not a woman to joke with.)
Tara: I divorced my husband in France many years ago. It was an act of kindess, really because I realized I had not the temperament to live with him, as I did have the temperament to live with girls, my two fine girls, my twin stars. I expect he's still there, unless he drowned at sea or died in a car accident or something. As for your personal appearance, whoever you are, it is sad and depressing. Your entire demeanor is singularly unpleasant. The world is far too full of unfortounate looking people, yourself included, and all of those people should really put forth more of an effort into glittering yourself up to make it easier for us, the naturally beautiful. But I've spent too much time discussing appearance with a complete stranger, and I've ignored my mad mother. How are you, mother? (Brock brings Ms. Quymn closer to Tara.) Do you have any lucid moments these days, or is it all mist and haze? Oh, you've dribbled something on your nice mourning frock. That shouldn't be. Mr. Monarch, does the Colonel know that mother is out of the Tower?
Monarch: (Slightly disgusted by her selfishness) Your father is dying, Mrs. Venture.
Tara: That was not the question. The question was why is my mother not up in the Tower where it doesn't matter if she dribbles over the sofa and the carpets? And I am not to be called Mrs. Venture. I refer to myself by my maiden name of Gentleman-Quymn, a name you are quite familiar with, I am sure, Mr. Monarch. After all, you've been under my father for many years now. (Silence.) His service, I mean. (The Monarch flinches.)
Monarch: Your father wished to greet your mother before I placed her back in the Tower!
Tara: I think I've greeted her long enough. Haven't I, mother? You're not going to be lucid, are you? (No response.) There, you see? Take her away, Mr. Monarch. And Brock, you might run my bath. My legs always ache at this time of day. And Ginnie? You might bring the girls some tea and graham crackers, you remember how fond Nancy and Drew are of graham crackers.
Ginnie: Indeed I do, ma'am. (She and Brock exit.)
Tara: And, Mr. Monarch, would you relate to my stepfather my wishes for his continued health, and that I shall see him after I take my bath.
Monarch: (Irritated)Yes Miss Gentleman-Quymn.
Tara: Mrs. Gentleman-Quymn, Mr. Monarch. I have two daughters, you are aware.
Monarch: (Even more irritated, barely restraining himself) Yes, Mrs. Gentleman-Quymn.
(Monarch exits with Ms. Quymn. Nancy and Drew sit on the couch together.)
Tara: Well, children, I expect once the will is revealed, we'll be able to count on a good many more summers in Italy together.
Jonas, Jr.: (Speaking up) Maybe he'll leave all his money to Rusty.
Tara: Children, do you hear an additional voice? (Nancy and Drew grin at one another, enjoying the joke.) I hope I'm not losing my grasp like my poor, lamented mother.
Nancy: I'm sure you're perfectly sane, mother.
Tara: Before I take my bath, we can have a nice talk about art and literateure.
Jonas, Jr.: I'm beginning to see what Rusty was talking about…
Tara: Tell me, Nancy, about your new idea for a play. And Drew, why don't you sketch me? Mother listening to her daughters.
(Drew begins to sketch.)
Nancy: I thought of it the other day when Drew and I were sunbathing. The play would deal with a society where men were completely outlawed, except for a few captives eunuchs, who were allowed for servents. But the women would be impregnated by artificial insemination, and so all the women and men would be cut off and seperated, because they were the cause of all evil, all except for one woman who was worshipped by women and men alike as a goddess.
Drew: You can pose for the goddess, Mother. We could do it in oils.
Nancy: And everyone worships this woman-goddess, and then in the evenings when all the men retire to their various chambers, the woman-goddess would cry herself to sleep because none of the men would touch her.
Tara: What would the ending be?
Nancy: I haven't one yet.
Drew: A bolt of lightening could kill everybody.
Tara: It's not one of my favorites. I prefer the ones about the wonderful queen who has to choose between two beautiful princes and she can't make up her mind and so she runs off with both of them and lives happily ever after.
Nancy: I never wrote that.
Tara: I know. I just did, and I love it.
(Brock enters.)
Brock: Your bath is ready.
Tara: Thank you, Brock. Children, you stay here for tea. Brock will help me to my room. (Brock helps Tara hobble off to her room.)
Jonas, Jr.: (Trying to joke again) For a second there, I thought I was included in the "children".
Drew: You're clearly far too old.
Jonas, Jr.: (Still trying, God bless him, but irritation starting to show through.) Oh, so I'm actually going to get talked to, am I?
Nancy: It's only Mummy who's good at games. We're much more direct.
Drew: (To Nancy) I'm bored already. Do you want to play Pot Luck?
Nancy: Why not? There's the phone.
Drew: (Dials) Could I have the number of the A&P please?
Jonas, Jr.: What's all this?
Nancy: Just a game we play. (Drew dials again)
Jonas, Jr.: Don't you girls think you're a bit old to be making prank phone calls?
Nancy: There's no need to wallow in maturity.
Drew: Hello, would you send a delivery boy out to the Gentleman-Quymn residence on Crestview Street? Just assorted groceries will do. As much as you like. Thank you. Oh, and tell him to use the front door. Yes, thank you.
Jonas, Jr.: It seems a worthless joke to charge things to Colonel Gentleman. He can certainly afford it, but after all, he is your grandfather, and he is dying…
Nancy: So are we all, uncle.
Drew: So, how's life been? Did you like living inside our father?
Nancy: You've grown…ehm…up….passably, I see.
Jonas, Jr.: (Giving civility and flattery one last try) Not as pretty as you two, I'm sure.
Nancy: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If most beholders don't take to you, don't blame us.
Drew: It's probably your height and stature.
Jonas, Jr.: Well, why shouldn't I look a bit on the small side? I spent the majority of my life inside your horrible father, abusing his body with diet pills like he did, until it was litereally uninhabitable. Then he practically gave birth to me, if you can imagine the humiliation of that…
Nancy: (Talking about Jonas, Jr.) I bet he looked like a drowned cat!
Drew: Too small. Kitten.
(Jonas is at a loss for words, as the girls sit there and giggle. Dr. Venture comes in seamlessly, complaining to himself.)
Dr. Venture: I've read Freud! I know what psychological damage has been done to me. People shouldn't be allowed ot have children until they've passed a test in psychology. Anyone who gets below B-minus should be sterilized. My father should be the one locked up in the tower, not Ms. Quymn. OH WAIT, HE'S DEAD!
Nancy: (To Dr. Venture) God'll strike you dead if you talk that way.
Dr. Venture: God won't, but your mother sure as hell will.
Drew: (To Dr. Venture) Look, Father, you're a very neurotic man, and (turing to Jonas, Jr.) you have some biological claim to be our uncle, and we wish we could help you…
Nancy: But we can't think of a gosh-darned thing to say so maybe you should go off and complain to each other. After all, if one of you's around the other can't be far away. As the last forty years have proven, as you say yourself.
Jonas, Jr.: I can't believe this…this madness… (He exits.)
Dr. Venture: Oh, no you don't, half-pint. You're not leaving me alone with the twins from the Shining…And besides, I'm not done complaining about our father! (he exits, also)
Nancy: To describe the everyday procedure of breathing, eating, and sleeping as madness bespeaks a parochial outlook and an alarming failure to grasp reality.
Drew: Or an alarming succes.
(Enters Ginnie with tea and graham crackers.)
Ginnie: Ah, and here's tea for my two beautiful girls.
Drew: Ah, and here's Ginnie, and God love her, too.
Nancy: We've missed you, Ginnie. We've had many a wet dream over you. (Nancy gasps and puts a hand over her mouth; both twins dissolve into secret looks and giggling. They know the game they're playing.)
Ginnie: Miss Nancy, what can you be thinking of?
Drew: (winking to Nancy) You, Ginnie, and can you blame us?
Nancy: Ah, the Lord bless you, Ginnie.
Drew: Better be off with you now (she openly winks at Ginnie) lest we can control ourselves no longer.
Ginnie: Oh, Miss Drew! Are…are you flirting with me now?
Nancy: (stifling giggles) Well, knowing Drew, you better not stick around to find out.
Ginnie: Oh, the Lord up in heaven, if this isn't a day. (she exits, cheerily)
Drew: She's more like a cow than I remembered. (Door bell rings) Oh! Is it Pot Luck already?
Nancy: I bet it is. Blonde or dark-haired?
Drew: Dark.
Nancy: All right, if he's dark-haired, he's yours.
(Brock enters, to answer the door.)
Nancy: Oh, we'll get it, Brock. We're expecting someone.
Brock:....'kay.
(Brock exits. Drew goes to the door and ushers in a reddish brown haired boy carrying several packages and a notepad.)
Drew: Ah, you've come at last.
Nancy: Dark, but kind of red, too. But then, that's Pot Luck. And so handsome…
Drew: We haven't eaten since last Tuesday. (Giggles.) What have you brought us?
Dean: I don't know. H.E.L. packed it.
Nancy: How clever.
Dean: Will that be cash or charge?
Drew: Charge, of course.
Dean: (Taking out the notepad and beginning to write.) Well, I'll just fill this out.
Drew: (Puts her hand on the boy's shoulders from behind.) What's the hurry? Here, sit down. (She forces Dean to sit on the couch between them.) We can talk about life.
Dean: (Nervously) I have to get right back…
Drew: (Pushing him back) Relax…
Nancy: (Laughing) You want to buy our uncle? He's a midget. He can do tricks!
Drew: (Laughing also) You know, that might even be true.
Dean: Just let me fill out the charge form…
Drew: (Snatching the notepad) Hey, calm down.
Dean: Wait! That's not even mine! It belongs to the company! I'm representing Hankco!
Drew: Maybe if you looked up from your silly notepad for just a second you'd be able to see just what we're saying.
Dean: What?
Drew: You want to stay with us tonight? We all have a good time. Everybody needs a little friendship. (She puts her arms around his waist.)
Dean: Let me go! I have a girl back home!
Nancy: (Dropping the playfulness) If not friendship, money then. Look at me. (Dean tries to, but can't quite meet their eyes. He's crying.) Would you like to make some money? Do you understand me? (Slow.) We……Will……Pay……You.
Dean: (Weeping, crying, sniffling, and generally carrying on.) Is this a joke? I…I can't really see….see your faces, so I…I can't tell…
Drew: Oh, throw him back in the bay. He's clueless. Pity though…(Sniffs, turning up her nose to him.) Don't call us, we'll call you.
Nancy: Obvious latent homosexual. Did you see the way he bolted from the room? With two superb specimens such as us, offering ourselves to him!
Drew: I suspect he had acne on his back. (Goes to a phone, dials.) Could I have the number of the Grand Union, please?
(Blackout)
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