| White Mice | |
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| (Lights up to discover Robert sitting in his chair and Douglas pacing back and forth.) | |
| DOUGLAS: | Look, what’s your problem? |
| ROBERT: | I don’t know, where should I start? |
| DOUGLAS: | I don’t know. How about (mockingly) ‘imperialism’. |
| ROBERT: | All right, imperialism. |
| DOUGLAS: | Take it away. |
| ROBERT: | Well, I got a problem with it. |
| DOUGLAS: | So join the club. |
| ROBERT: | You don’t. |
| DOUGLAS: | Do too. |
| ROBERT: | Do not. |
| DOUGLAS: | Do too. |
| ROBERT: | Do not. |
| DOUGLAS: | Do too. |
| ROBERT: | Do too. |
| DOUGLAS: | Do not. |
| ROBERT: | See! You stupid puppet of imperialist forces, you benefit from the imperial trickle-down effect. |
| DOUGLAS: | That’s been disproved. I’m one of the disposable. I’m disenfranchised. |
| ROBERT: | Yeah, you and all your friends on College Street suckin’ back the foam offa your stupid freakin’ cappucciniweenies, sweating a caffeinated sheen over some stupid alien conspiracy theory, acting as if the neoconservative agenda is doing anything but creating more space for your freakin’ consumption. |
| DOUGLAS: | But I’m poor, I really am poor. |
| ROBERT: | What’s that on your whiskers? |
| DOUGLAS: | What? |
| ROBERT: | You heard me. |
| DOUGLAS: | I heard you? |
| ROBERT: | You heard me, you freakin’ freak. |
| DOUGLAS: | My whiskers are clean. |
| ROBERT: | That’s what you say. |
| DOUGLAS: | And I’ll say it again. |
| ROBERT: | There’s something white on your whiskers. |
| DOUGLAS: | On all of them? |
| ROBERT: | On all three of them. |
| DOUGLAS: | I have something white on all three of my whiskers? |
| ROBERT: | You sure do. |
| DOUGLAS: | But, but, but – |
| ROBERT: | It’s steamed milk!! You have dried steamed milk on all three of your whiskers, so don’t go telling me that your poverty is preventing a wholesale enjoyment of College Street cappuccini-weenies. |
| DOUGLAS: | It wasn’t a cappucciniweenie – ! |
| ROBERT: | Oh no? |
| DOUGLAS: | It was a mochacciniweenie, a mochacciniweenie, for freak’s sake! And I didn’t pay for it, I exchanged it for some stimulating conversation with a female. |
| ROBERT: | See! It’s privilege I’m talking about, and you have it no matter how convinced of your pathetic poverty you are. |
| DOUGLAS: | Oh sure, and the next thing you’re going to tell me is that I have this holy privilege because – |
| ROBERT: | Because – |
| DOUGLAS: | Because – |
| ROBERT: | Because of the colour – |
| DOUGLAS: | – of my fur, you stupid freakin’ race traitor! |
| ROBERT: | Deny it! |
| DOUGLAS: | Deny it?! I’m not even going to address it. |
| ROBERT: | The hallmark of denial. |
| DOUGLAS: | You’re not going to guilt me over this one. I didn’t invent this world. I didn’t choose to be born. I didn’t set up the freakin’ rules. |
| ROBERT: | Rules?! Oh, they’re ‘rules’ now! |
| DOUGLAS: | I. Am. Innocent! |
| ROBERT: | Do you know that White mice comprise less than, do you hear me, less that fifty percent of Toronoronto’s popopulation? |
| DOUGLAS: | Big deal, what do I care? That’s fine with me, I’m all for it. I like world music like everybody else. |
| ROBERT: | Yeah, so long as you can enjoy it in a cozy supremacist atmosphere. |
| DOUGLAS: | Supremacist?! |
| ROBERT: | Shut your eyes! |
| DOUGLAS: | Alrighty. |
| ROBERT: | Picture your friends. |
| DOUGLAS: | Alrighty. |
| ROBERT: | Imagine a typical conversation. |
| DOUGLAS: | Alrighty. |
| ROBERT: | Just out of curiosity … |
| DOUGLAS: | Yes? |
| ROBERT: | What are you talking about? |
| DOUGLAS: | Important things. |
| ROBERT: | Important things? |
| DOUGLAS: | Yeah, important things. |
| ROBERT: | Such as –? |
| DOUGLAS: | Well … media, films, music, careers. Careers in media, careers in film, careers in music. Careers in … careers. Interesting things. Choices. Choices that artists make. You know, politics. |
| ROBERT: | Just out of curiosity – |
| DOUGLAS: | Yes? |
| ROBERT: | In this diverse city of ours with less than fifty percent of the population possessing white fur – |
| DOUGLAS: | Yes? |
| ROBERT: | What colour is the fur of less than fifty percent of your friends? |
| DOUGLAS: | Well, white, of course. |
| ROBERT: | And the more than fifty percent of your friends? |
| DOUGLAS: | Well … (eyes pop open) You are a race traitor, a plain and simple race traitor! |
| ROBERT: | And that, my brother, is fine by me! |
| DOUGLAS: | Listen to me! Everybody’s invited to come down to College Street for a cappucciniweenie. I haven’t erected any fences, you stupid, arrogant, self-satisfied – |
| ROBERT: | The problem – |
| DOUGLAS: | Oh, here we go! |
| ROBERT: | The problem – |
| DOUGLAS: | You’re going to tell me about the problem and – |
| ROBERT: | The problem – |
| DOUGLAS: | – is somehow or other – |
| ROBERT: | The problem – |
| DOUGLAS: | Gonna be me! |
| ROBERT: | Why are you so freakin’ fuckin’ defensive? |
| DOUGLAS: | ’Cause it’s not my fault! |
| ROBERT: | When – |
| DOUGLAS: | It’s never been my fault. |
| ROBERT: | – did I ever say – |
| DOUGLAS: | I love mousekind, I do, I truly do, and I just want – |
| ROBERT: | – that it was your freakin’ fault? |
| DOUGLAS: | – everything to be okay! |
| ROBERT: | Well, things are not okay. Okay?! Okay?! |
| DOUGLAS: | All right, all right. |
| ROBERT: | The problem – |
| DOUGLAS: | Oh god, it’s me, I’m the problem, I know I’m the problem. |
| ROBERT: | – is institutional. |
| DOUGLAS: | What are you saying? |
| ROBERT: | And while it may be institutional, it is embodied in – |
| DOUGLAS: | May I? |
| ROBERT: | Dive in! |
| DOUGLAS: | – in … the individual! |
| ROBERT: | Take it away! |
| DOUGLAS: | As we’ve learned from the various coincidences that occur just beneath the surface of one’s fur, a pattern that is perceived on the macrocosm will be reflected in the microcosm which, in turn, becomes the macro for another micro and so on ad infinitum, so any system that is predicated on imbalance and inequity, such as global economics, will necessarily find itself reflected in the day-to-day adventures of even the most politically conscious mouse, so I as a straight – |
| ROBERT: | Sorta! |
| DOUGLAS: | – White male mouse must somehow embody all the privilege and power that is the hallmark of this stupid, horrible, lonely, lonely, lonely, sad and isolated world. |
| ROBERT: | Exactly! |
| DOUGLAS: | Even though – |
| ROBERT: | What? |
| DOUGLAS: | I have no money, my teeth are yellow from neglect, my muscles are stringy from malnutrition, my paws shake from stress, no one loves me and I love no one, and contemplating suicide is the only hobby I still enjoy. |
| ROBERT: | C’est la vie! |
| DOUGLAS: | And believe you me, things could be much worse. This I know, I acknowledge. I realize how lucky I am beneath all of my pathetic self-serving, self-loathing whining and complaining. Suffering is not universal and nor is it relative. I know this. I know this. I know this. And contemplating suicide is only a sublimation of my desire to get married, buy a house, and father a brood of cute furry little – |
| ROBERT: | You’re sick! You’re sick! You’re sick! |
| DOUGLAS: | I’m sick! |
| ROBERT: | Your analysis falls apart at the slightest suggestion of a freakin’ breeze. |
| DOUGLAS: | I know, I know, I know. |
| ROBERT: | I get the distinct impression that you somehow feel that by virtue of your self-perceived saintly self-perception re your centrality, you think you truly inhabit a position of marginality vis-à-vis your location as someone in the midst of what you would not only characterize as a reversal but – |
| DOUGLAS: | A displacement! I feel displaced! |
| ROBERT: | And that, my brother, will be the starting point for your … Political Awakening! |
| DOUGLAS: | Really!? |
| ROBERT: | But remember, we mice can only learn in three. Very. Specific. Ways. |
| DOUGLAS: | I know what you’re going to say! |
| ROBERT: | One! |
| DOUGLAS: | By sweating! |
| ROBERT: | Two! |
| DOUGLAS: | By crying! |
| ROBERT: | And – |
| DOUGLAS: | Don’t, please don’t! |
| ROBERT: | Three – |
| DOUGLAS: | BY BLEEDING! |
| (Douglas grabs the knife from the table and attempts to slash his wrists. Robert grabs for the knife and a massive struggle ensues.) | |
| ROBERT: | Gimme that knife! |
| DOUGLAS: | Don’t, don’t, I can’t go on! |
| ROBERT: | Give it to me! |
| DOUGLAS: | I don’t want to learn, learning is too hard!! |
| ROBERT: | Gimme that knife, you stupid freakin’ pathetic self-obsessed freak! |
| DOUGLAS: | No, I want to die! |
| ROBERT: | Give it to me! |
| DOUGLAS: | I want to die! |
| ROBERT: | You give it to me! |
| DOUGLAS: | Please, please, please let me die! |
| ROBERT: | No! |
| DOUGLAS: | Let me have the knife! |
| ROBERT: | I will not let you die! |
| DOUGLAS: | Please, oh please! |
| ROBERT: | You will not die! |
| DOUGLAS: | Please! |
| ROBERT: | You will not die! |
| DOUGLAS: | Please, oh please! |
| ROBERT: | You will not die! |
| DOUGLAS: | Please let me die! |
| (Robert finally gets the knife away from Douglas. Douglas collapses in Robert’s arms.) | |
| ROBERT: | If you ever! ever! ever! ever! kill yourself I will KILL you, do you hear me?! I will kill you! |
| (Blackout) |