Little Moon

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CHARACTERS:

THE GUY RABBIT/M

THE GIRL RABBIT/F

PROPS:

Two rabbit suits (one for male, one for female)

Two large carrots

A sculpture about 5 feet tall, depicting a moon sitting on the calf of a human foot.

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[LIGHTS UP. TWO RABBITS, a GUY RABBIT and a GIRL RABBIT, enter STAGE LEFT, carrots in one hand, each other’s hand in the other. Ahead of them, a sculpture of a giant moon sitting on the calf of a very large foot.]

GIRL. What is this? Some type of art?

GUY. I’m not sure...I don’t know.

GIRL. Why can’t you figure it out! It stands right in front of you! You never have the answers I need or the answers I hope to get!

GUY. Because I can’t figure this?

GIRL. That and because you’re always slower than me. You pull me back sometimes.

GUY. All this arguing will get us nowhere.

[They refrain from holding hands and stare with intent at the sculpture.]

Wait…

[He approaches the sculpture, pauses a moment, and then lifts the moon off of the foot, bouncing it like a basketball. The Girl Rabbit watches him: ‘You idiot.’]

GIRL. What are you doing?

GUY. Exercise.

GIRL. Exercise is something that’s done without disrupting anyone’s perception of art.

[He stops bouncing.]

GUY. This is considered art to you?

GIRL. Yes, why wouldn’t it be?

GUY. What do you consider art?

GIRL. Something I can’t do!

GUY. Indeed. Cooking must be an art to you.

GIRL. [Angrily] You are such an ignorant jerk.

[He starts bouncing the ball again.]

GUY. It was joke. You joke with me, like now for instance.

GIRL. This is not a joke!

[Breaking off into her own little world] This is someone’s mind, body, passion transcribed into hardened clay and put unto this spot so that many can ponder. O! I can bask and bathe in its eloquence and jollity! It is…harmonious!

GUY. This is babble. A horribly rectified piece of trash set in stone!

GIRL. You know, I haven’t the slightest idea why you’re so hostile today. I see bits of Raphael and Michelangelo in this. I would consider it a, a…

GUY. A masterpiece?! Masterwork?! A magnum opus?!

GIRL. You are an infant.

GUY. That’s incorrect. I’m a big boy now. Haven’t you noticed?

GIRL. The only things I have been noticing are your insecurities toward this sculpture. Look at it…

GUY. And?

GIRL. It’s priceless!

GUY. It’s worthless.

GIRL. Don’t you see?! It’s vaudevillian!

GUY. Do you even understand what that means?

GIRL. It channels artists! It channels the bureaucracy and the hope of our nation. It…is posh!

GUY. You are a broken record. You repeat yourself constantly but I hear the same concepts with different diction.

GIRL. The only things repeating themselves are the barbarisms you put on this sculpture!

GUY. You’re just going ‘round and ‘round.

GIRL. I am?! You’re like a bouncing ball!

GUY. How ‘bout a gyroscope?

GIRL. [Getting angry] How ‘bout a useless conversation!

GUY. [Countering] Perhaps in a dradel-like fashion?

GIRL. Like a record.

GUY. I was thinking more of a compact disk now.

GIRL. Why not a merry-go-round?

GUY. Why not in the shape of a pizza?

GIRL. The Coriolis effect, where the water in a toilet spins backwards South of the equator?

GUY. Like a button.

GIRL. Or a bottle top.

GUY. Perhaps a slightly compressed oval.

GIRL. Or the opening of a vase (pronouncing ‘vase’ like ‘race’).

GUY. Or the opening of a vase (pronouncing ‘vase’ like ‘jaws’).

GIRL. Or the opening of a pickle jar.

GUY. Would you like a donut? Perhaps a bagel.

[The sculpture suddenly topples and shatters. The ball slips out of the Guy Rabbit’s hands. The couple stands, saucer-eyed, wide-mouthed, and helpless. After a moment, the Guy Rabbit clears his throat.]

An annoyance best left to tatters. Ah! All’s well that ends abruptly.

GIRL. [Shrugging] Eh…

GUY. [Turning] Continue?

GIRL. That we might.


[They exit arm-in-arm. FADE TO BLACK.]





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