G & G meet R & G and What They Say to Each Other
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern walk onto the stage talking, their speech hampered at first, slowly loudening into audibility. From here on out they shall be referred to as ROS and GUIL, irrespectively. One of them seems to have said something clever, and the other has said something derisive in response.
GUIL: What kind of God who can render worlds born would look upon a canine's rear end willingly, more than once?
ROS: Zeus the goose, the correlation between gods and bestiality is unsettling.
GUIL: Perhaps that's why it's spelled best and not beast.
ROS: I don't think either of us knows enough about etymology to conclude that.
GUIL: I know enough about Tim; though I wasn't aware he had a religion.
ROS: Yes, he's a catholic.
GUIL: That settles it. I think combined we know enough about Tim to justify whatever we were saying before.
ROS: Wait, you mean his own religion?
GUIL: Yes, I believe it was A-Tim-ology.
ROS: Aha! A homophone!
GUIL: I don't think that's necessary. I'm sure his congregation is very accepting.
ROS: The congregation of humanity is cannibalistic. Even those we lure into our masses goodheartedly we take advantage of. We continuously suck the life force from one another for every second we gather, gaining nothing. Men were meant to be lonesome animals.
GUIL (loping away): I suppose if that's how you feel.
ROS: No, come back! We must rely on each other to survive!
GUIL (loping back): I suppose if that's how you feel.
ROS (pointing to the vacant left side of the stage): Look, up ahead, another couple.
GUIL (whirling around, panicked): Where is the first?
ROS: I don't know, we must have missed them.
GUIL: Pity, I wasn't aware we were aiming.
ROS: Aiming at what?
GUIL: Them?
ROS: Which them?
GUIL: The royal them.
ROS: You mean us?
GUIL: No, no, I think that'd be suicide.
ROS: Suicide or not, death is always approaching. His footsteps are silent until he's very close, and then you can hear them quite loudly. He always moves at the same pace, for individuals, of course. It can vary between people. He only seems to get quicker toward the end.
GUIL: My heart beats like a drum.
ROS: Each beat is a footstep.
GUIL: Then if I stop my heart he'll stop in his tracks. He'll never reach me!
ROS: No, by then he'll already be beside you.
GUIL: That's not fair. There must be a way to win.
ROS: There is, and it lies in the afterlife.
GUIL: Tim-ology?
ROS: Every religion. And it's A-Tim-ology, like A-teen or A-corn or A-D.
(GOL and GREG enter)
GOL: Good day, fellow travelers. Is Transylvania very far behind you?
GUIL (grouchily): I should hope so.
ROS: Hope only leads to disappointment.
GUIL: And disappointment leads to depression.
ROS: And depression leads to suicide.
GUIL: Such a revolving cycle.
ROS: It never stops.
GUIL: Just keeps going, around and around.
GOL: I'd love to chat, but my friend and I must go.
(The stage moves left as and GOL and GREG move right. ROS and GUIL exeunt unmoving.)
GOL: Syphilis?
GREG: That, or temporal displacement sickness.
(Fade out)