ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER returns, again, to consult the ORACLE
5:45 AM, the VEHICLE’s bedroom. As the stage lights come up, We see ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER standing at the foot of the Vehicle’s bed. The Vehicle is asleep. The audience’s point of view is from the bed’s left side, placing Schwarzenegger at stage left; the bed is at center. The suggestion of a wall separates the center-left of the stage from the far right, which is decorated to signify the VEHICLE’s front yard, which she shares with CURTIS SHUCKS. Shucks’ side is an immaculately maintained lawn; the Vehicle’s side is brown, and littered by Twinkies and wrappers, and a large ice chest, from the followers of FRED PHELPS, who have until recently been having a bit of a protest-cum-picnic on her lawn.
SCHWARZENEGGER is still wearing the navy blue jacket in which we have seen him previously, though the tie is gone. The jacket is grass-stained in places, and notably disheveled. A human hand is affixed to the right shoulder of the jacket with duct tape.
The Vehicle awakes. She sees Schwarzenegger and her mouth opens, but cannot scream. She still tries, repeatedly, while sitting upright in bed and recoiling to the top of the bed, dragging the covers along with her and bunching them up around herself. She is breathing audibly: it verges on hyperventilation.
Schwarzenegger [looking at the VEHICLE]: So now I’m going to ask my question. And you’re going to answer it. No more of this ‘conditions’ bullshit.
Oracle: What is your question?
Schwarzenegger: I want you to tell me how to get power.
Oracle: Networking. It’s always about networking.
Schwarzenegger: I’m a busy man. I have a state government to run. Who, specifically, do I need to network with in order to gain control of the country?
Oracle: ‘Control of the country’ isn’t on the table, champ. I can tell you how to get the Presidency, though.
Schwarzenegger: Fine. Spill it. I’ve had just about enough of you, with your conditions, and making me cut off my hand, and making me chase you. Get on with it.
Oracle: You need to make contact with a man named Alec Pointevint. He is presently the Chairman of the Georgia Republican Party. By 2017, he will be a very influential person on a national level. You need to meet with him, and engage him in conversation.
Schwarzenegger: Alec Pointevint.
Schwarzenegger: How do you spell that?
Oracle: Just remember his title. You can look him up when you get back to Sacramento.
Schwarzenegger: So that’s it?
Oracle: You want something more specific? Okay. February 21st, 2014. That’s a Friday. There will be a dinner at the Governor’s mansion in Atlanta. Get yourself invited.
[VEHICLE has stopped trying to scream, and is no longer hyperventilating, but is shaking. CURTIS SHUCKS appears on stage right and begins to water the lawn with a garden hose, oblivious.]
Schwarzenegger: You want me to wait until 2014?
Oracle: It’s not about what I want, it’s about what’s possible, and at what times. But let me ask you something: what do you want with power anyway? You have a wife, you have a movie career which could last another twenty or thirty years, if you take care of yourself. Why try to accumulate power for which you have no real use?
Schwarzenegger: It’s sort of an end in itself. You couldn’t understand. When a man meets another man, one of them has the power, and the other one is weak. I always want to be the one who has the power. Otherwise, I may as well be her. [indicates VEHICLE]
Oracle: I should have finished. Pointevint is a big fan of classical music. Chopin in particular. In order to get him to come over and talk to you, you will have to sit down at the piano and play his favorite piece, the Fantasia in F Minor, opus 49.
Schwarzenegger: You bitch. You fucking bitch. [lunges at VEHICLE, who resumes attempting to scream] You make me cut off my hand! And then tell me to play the piano! [SCHWARZENEGGER is striking at the VEHICLE, somewhat ineptly, with his left hand: for the most part she is able to dodge him or entangle him in the sheets] You fucking faggot! I’ll kill you!
[VEHICLE loops the sheets around SCHWARZENEGGER’s head and left arm, writhes away from him and runs outside in her nightgown. CURTIS SHUCKS sees her exit.]
Shucks: Good morning, there. Might have got dressed first. No newspaper I see.
[VEHICLE gesticulates wildly toward the front door, mimes choking to death, this being the first thought that pops into her head to signify “menace.”]
Shucks: You choking, sweetie? I don’t know the Heimlich.
[CUT TO: Schwarzenegger, inside, untangling himself from the sheets.]
Shucks: What is it? There somebody in there?
[VEHICLE points at him with one hand while touching a finger to her nose and nodding vigorously.]
Shucks: You get in my place, call nine-one-one. [pause] Oh, wait. No, I’ll call. You just get inside.
[VEHICLE turns to exit. SHUCKS stretches the garden hose across the front door at foot level. SCHWARZENEGGER races out the door and trips over the hose and flies several feet: the director may want to have something padded at the left end of the stage. SCHWARZENEGGER lies dazed on the lawn while the VEHICLE picks up the ice chest and bashes him into unconsciousness with it.]
Shucks: Ain’t that Governor Shortsenegger? Hey now!
[VEHICLE grabs the garden hose from SHUCKS and ties up SCHWARTZENEGGER with it, looking pretty much feral.]
Shucks [backing away from the VEHICLE slightly]: We should probably call the po-lice.
(Story continues at JOYCE SIMMONS LUDENS.)