Menu

(To read Act I, click here.)

Next day. Same time. Same place. 

The floor outside the cells is littered with trash, sheets, rolls of toilet paper, the obvious remains of a large shakedown. Estragon’s cell is empty, and his belongings are strewn about in a chaotic mess. On Vladimir’s desk, the Friedrich painting has been moved to the wall, the painting of the tree is now on his desk. Vladimir is seen painting; the tree now has four or five small green leaves on its branches. Vladimir sets his paintbrush down, moves back to take in the image. He begins to pace a few steps from the cell bars to the bunk, staring at the painting. He moves to the bars, removes his mirror from a hook on the wall, gazes through it down the run to the right, shading his eyes with his other hand. He picks up some items from the floor where they had been thrown and sets them in the cabinet under the bed. He paces again. Halts at the bars, looks to the left. Paces. Halts suddenly and begins to sing.

Vladimir:          A convict came in the kitchen

Having begun too high, he stops, clears his throat, resumes.

                        A convict came in the kitchen

                        And stole a crust of bread.

                        Then the kitchen captain up with a ladle

                        And beat him till he was dead.

                        Then all his homies came running

                        And dug the convict a tomb.

He stops, broods, resumes.

Then all his homies came running                      

And dug the convict a tomb.

                        And wrote upon the tombstone

                        For the eyes of newboots to come.

                        A convict came in the kitchen

                        And stole a crust of bread.

                        Then the kitchen captain up with a ladle

                        And beat him till he was dead.

                        Then all his homies came running

                        And dug the convict a tomb.

He stops, broods, resumes.

                        Then all his homies came running

                        And dug the convict a tomb.

He stops, broods. Softly.

                        And dug the convict a tomb.

Vladimir remains a moment, silent and motionless, then begins to pace feverishly from the bunk to the bars. He halts, picks up a brush, sets it back down, paces, halts extreme right, uses his mirror, gazes into the distance, paces, halts extreme left, gazes into the distance. Click of the crash gate stage right. Sound of boots stomping. A group of five large men in black armor and helmets drag Estragon in, open his cell, throw him down on the floor, close the cell, march off. Vladimir watches in his mirror. Estragon struggles to stand, slips down to one knee, rests, stands eventually. He feels his body for injuries, comes to rest his arms on the bars.

Vladimir:          Well? (Estragon touches his chin gently, then fiddles with a tooth, but does not raise his head. Vladimir edges closer to the dividing wall.) Give me your hand.

Estragon:          Don’t try to touch me. My bruises have bruises. 

Vladimir:          (holds back, pained.) Do you want me to go away? (Pause.) Gogo! I… (pause) …I’ve been working on my painting of the tree that I told you about. I’ve added some greenery. (Pause.) Would you like to see it? (Pause. Observes Estragon in his mirror attentively.) How bad was it? (Pause.) Gogo! (Estragon remains silent, his head bowed.) Did they ask about the key?

Estragon:          Don’t touch me. Don’t question me. Don’t speak to me. Stay with me.

Vladimir:          Did I ever leave you?

Estragon:          You let them take me.

Vladimir:          They took me first. (Emphasis.) I didn’t ask you to stop them. No, that part we’ve always had to do alone. Look at me. Will you look at me?!

Estragon raises his head, slowly reaches for his mirror. They look long at each other, then each suddenly reaches across the dividing wall and clasp hands. End of embrace.

Estragon:          (again sags on the bars, almost falls.) What a day.

Vladimir:          The lieutenant kicked me a few times but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. I’m pretty sure he thinks that Diablo stole the key.

Estragon:          Much softer than it used to be. Remember Morley? One punch and it was over with. (Pause.) Consciousness, I mean. The beating continued in abs… absorb… what is it?

Vladimir:          In absentia.

Estragon:          Yeah, that. (Pause.) Another day done with.

Vladimir:          Not yet.

Estragon:          For me it’s over and done with, no matter what happens. (Silence.) I heard you singing as they carried me through the vestibule.

Vladimir:          That’s right, I remember.

Estragon:          That finished me. I said to myself, he’s survived his trials, he’s alone in his cell, he knows I’m somewhere getting my brains bashed in, and he sings.

Vladimir:          One is not the master of one’s moods. You know I always feel energized after I survive something awful. (Pause.) Plus, now I have a key and they are convinced I don’t have it. That’s a victory.

Estragon:          You are happier without me.

Vladimir:          I missed you… and at the same time I was content that I’d been knocked around but landed on my feet.

Estragon:          I’d be a lot more content if I could land on Lieutenant Timmons’ head. (Pause.) Repeatedly.

Vladimir:          Perhaps content is not exactly the right word.

Estragon:          And now?

Vladimir:          Now…? (Joyous.) There you are again… (indifferent) …there we are again… (gloomy) …there I am again.

Estragon:          You see, you feel worse when I’m with you. I feel better alone, too.

Vladimir:          (vexed.) Then why do you always come crawling back?

Estragon:          I don’t know.

Vladimir:          You’re hopeless.

Estragon:          Nothing to be done. (Pause.) That fatass mark was right about one thing, they should just kill all of us once we’re used up.

Vladimir:          You don’t mean that.

Estragon:          The hell I don’t. Everyone with more than ten, twelve years should get a bullet to the head. By that point we’re all too far gone to be saved. (Pause.) Remember what we were like when we first met at Diagnostics? Green as fuck, trying to look hard but all secretly terrified. We kept looking around in shock, going, wait, the public permits such a place to exist? Now look at us. Our hearts get blacker by the day. We never stop scheming. Every relationship is totally mercenary, purely transactional. We lie like we breathe. We know almost nothing about anything important but are somehow convinced otherwise. We see any uniform and instantly perceive an enemy. If something can be lifted, we steal it. (Pause.) Even some things that cannot be lifted. A woman walks by, we catcall, if not worse. We smoke anything we can get our hands on, because brain damage and an early death are better than the alternative.

Vladimir:          I don’t know who this we is. I don’t fit into half that description.

Estragon:          You’re worse. You carry yourself above it all with your art and your fancy books, thinking that if you hold out long enough, society will notice that you are somehow superior to the rest of us scumbags. Didi, they are not ever going to see you. They threw you away for a reason. Your own family wants nothing to do with you. If they won’t notice the way you are treading water, barely keeping your head above the surface, why would anyone else?

Vladimir:          (looks at the tree painting.) Treading water. There’s something to that. I should do The Raft of the Medusa next.

Estragon:          Are you listening to me?

Vladimir:          I’m not deaf.

Estragon:          So?

Vladimir:          You’ve pinned me wriggling to the wall. Are you happy?

Estragon:          What?

Vladimir:          Say, I am happy.

Estragon:          I am happy.

Vladimir:          Congratulations.

Estragon:          What do we do now, now that we are happy?

Vladimir:          Wait for Warden Godot.

Estragon:          (groans. Silence.) And if he doesn’t come?

Vladimir:          He’ll come. You are always too cynical after a beating.

Estragon:          I can’t help it if it’s like prophecy in homeopathic doses.

Vladimir:          Your inner Diogenes didn’t predict you getting to eat freeworld food yesterday, and it didn’t foresee getting to smoke half a pack of cigarettes on top of some toon. Who knows what today may bring?

Estragon:          That wasn’t yesterday.

Vladimir:          And we got some mildly amusing entertainment out of Lucky and Pozzo.

Estragon:          That was last month, surely. (Touches forehead gingerly.) I think I might be concussed. Were the walls always that dark a color?

Vladimir:          We’ve only been here four years, dude. How do you not have the pattern of the cracks in the wall memorized by now?

Estragon:          We’ve been here much longer than four years. Four decades maybe. (Suddenly furious.) Four lifetimes I’ve lived in this damn cage! (Looking wildly around him.) For thousand years! Look at this muckheap! I’ve never stirred from it!

Vladimir:          Calm yourself, calm yourself.

Estragon:          You and your goddam paintings of trees and streams! Tell me about the worms! The worms feasting on the millions of dead we tread upon with every step! The bodies that your precious trees eat for breakfast!

Vladimir:          All the same, you can’t tell me that this place (gestures) bears any resemblance to… (he hesitates) …to Darrington Unit. You can’t deny there’s a big difference.

Estragon:          Darrington! Who’s talking to you about Darrington?! That was a different period of four thousand years!

Vladimir:          We only did two years there, Gogo, and then they shipped all of close custody to Coffield, remember? It was after the Blast and the Crips went at it for a few weeks.

Estragon:          No, I never did two years at Darrington. That was another me. I’ve puked my puke of a life away here, I tell you! Here, in this damned cell! For nothing other than being what this place required me to be to survive! If society didn’t want me to become a wolf they shouldn’t have thrown me to the wolves! They shouldn’t have created the wolf pen in the first place!

Vladimir:          We were there together. Remember, we worked on the painting crew? What was that black dude’s name? The one that would carve pieces out of the door frames for five bucks and then we’d paint them so that –

Estragon:          (a little calmer.) Nine-Zero. He went by Nine-Zero. Or maybe Nine-Oh. 

Vladimir:          Nine-Oh. Now that was a character. (Pause.) You remember how he slit his –

Estragon:          I remember. I always remember, even when I say I don’t.

Vladimir:          You are a hard man to get on with sometimes, Gogo.

Estragon:          It’d be better if we parted.

Vladimir:          You always say that and you always come back.

Estragon:          The best thing would be to kill me, like the others.

Vladimir:          What others? (Pause.) What others?

Estragon:          Like billions of others.

Vladimir:          (sententious.) To every man his little cross. (Sighs.) Till he dies. (Afterthought.) And is forgotten.

Estragon:          In the meantime, let us try and converse calmly, since we can’t seem to be capable of shutting the hell up.

Vladimir:          You’re right, we’re inexhaustible.

Estragon:          It’s so we won’t think.

Vladimir:          Some of us have that excuse.

Estragon:          It’s so we won’t hear.

Vladimir:          We have our reasons.

Estragon:          All the dead voices. 

Vladimir:          They make a noise like wings.

Estragon:          Like leaves.

Vladimir:          Like sand.

Estragon:          Like leaves.

Silence.

Vladimir:          They all speak at once. Arnold. Gus. Chino. Joey. Smoke. Rod.

Estragon:          Each one to itself.

Vladimir:          Rather they whisper.

Estragon:          They rustle.

Vladimir:          They murmur.

Estragon:          They rustle.

Silence.

Vladimir:          What do they say?

Estragon:          They talk about their lives.

Vladimir:          To have lived is not enough for them.

Estragon:          They have to talk about it. All we never did for them.

Vladimir:          All we did to them.

Estragon:          All we promised we would do in their names.

Silence.

Vladimir:          They make a noise like feathers. And yet so much heavier than that.

Estragon:          Like leaves.

Vladimir:          Like ashes.

Estragon:          Like leaves.

Long silence.

Vladimir:          Say something.

Estragon:          I’m trying.

Long silence.

Vladimir:          (in anguish.) Say anything at all!

Estragon:          What do we do now?

Vladimir:          Wait for Warden Godot.

Estragon:          Ah!

Silence.

Vladimir:          This is awful!

Estragon:          Sing something.

Vladimir:          No, no! (He reflects.) We could start all over again perhaps.

Estragon:          Like it’s that simple. The State is just going to toss out that filing cabinet’s worth of paperwork on the both of us.

Vladimir:          It’s the start that’s difficult.

Estragon:          Who doesn’t regret their entire life and want to start it over? That’s what it means to be human.

Vladimir:          You just have to decide it’s what you want to do and gather all of your willpower for the effort.

Estragon:          If that were so, why are most people still such rotten bastards? 

Silence.

Vladimir:          Help me!

Estragon:          I’m trying. It’s just that I have little hope left to gift you. My tank is empty.

Silence.

Vladimir:          When you seek you hear.

Estragon:          (sighs.) You do.

Vladimir:          That prevents you from finding.

Estragon:          It does.

Vladimir:          That prevents you from thinking.

Estragon:          You think all the same.

Vladimir:          No, no, impossible.

Estragon:          That’s the idea, let’s contradict each other.

Vladimir:          Impossible.

Estragon:          You think so?

Vladimir:          We’re in no danger of ever thinking seriously anymore.

Estragon:          Then what the hell are we complaining about?

Vladimir:          Thinking is not the worst.

Estragon:          Perhaps not. But at least there’s that.

Vladimir:          That what?

Estragon:          That’s the idea, let’s ask each other questions.

Vladimir:          What do you mean, at least there’s that?

Estragon:          That much less misery.

Pause.

Vladimir:          True.

Estragon:          Well? If we gave thanks for our mercies?

Vladimir:          What is terrible is to have thought.

Estragon:          But did that ever happen to us?

Vladimir:          Where are all these corpses from?

Estragon:          These skeletons.

Vladimir:          Tell me that.

Estragon:          True.

Vladimir:          We must have thought a little.

Estragon:          At the very beginning.

Vladimir:          A charnel house! A charnel house!

Estragon:          You don’t have to look.

Vladimir:          You can’t help looking. So long as you are still human.

Estragon:          True.

Vladimir:          Try as one may.

Estragon:          The alternatives are worse. Easier, though.

Vladimir:          True.

Silence.

Estragon:          That wasn’t a bad little canter.

Vladimir:          Yes, but now we’ll have to find something else.

Estragon:          Let me see. (He takes off his watchcap, concentrates.)

Vladimir:          Let me see. (He takes off his watchcap, concentrates. Long silence.) Ah!

They each put on their caps, relax.

Estragon:          Well?

Vladimir:          What was I saying? We could go on from there.

Estragon:          What were you saying when?

Vladimir:          At the very beginning.

Estragon:          The very beginning of what? Which beginning? We’ve had so many.

Vladimir:          This afternoon… I was saying… I was saying…

Estragon:          You’re the historian.

Vladimir:          Wait… we clasped hands… we were content… happy… what do we do now that we’re happy… go on waiting… waiting… let me think… it’s coming… go on waiting… now that we’re happy… let me see… ah! The tree!

Estragon:          The tree?

Vladimir:          Do you not remember?

Estragon:          I’m tired.

Vladimir:          (moves to the desk, picks up the painting, returns to the bars, holds the painting out so Estragon can see it.) Look at it.

Estragon:          It’s a tree.

Vladimir:          Yesterday it was black and bare. And now it has leaves.

Estragon:          (shrugs.) Metaphorical spring. I get it. And now I’m supposed to feel like… what, exactly? What are you suggesting?

Vladimir:          It doesn’t make you feel better, to think of things like that? To imagine running your fingers over bark and leaf, to imagine the wind flowing through the branches, the way it then touches your face?

Estragon:          Some pigment on a piece of cardboard isn’t going to make me feel better. Imagining the goddam wind isn’t going to make me feel better. I don’t know what would make me feel better. (Wipes hand over face.) I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.

Vladimir:          And if you miss him?

Estragon:          Miss who?

Vladimir:          Warden Godot.

Estragon:          Ah! (Pause. Despairing.) What’ll we do, what’ll we do!

Vladimir:          There’s nothing we can do. We must wait.

Estragon:          But I can’t go on like this!

Vladimir:          We will just have to find a way. Would you like a mint stick?

Estragon:          Is that all there is?

Vladimir:          I’m lucky to have got through the shakedown this morning with them. They were so intent on finding that key that they overlooked all of the minor contraband I’ve got over here.

Estragon:          What happened to that last pack of cookies we got?

Vladimir:          We finished that weeks ago.

Estragon:          I’m going to ask Creeper if he can get us another bag. We paid four stamps? (He does not move.)

Vladimir:          This is becoming really insignificant.

Estragon:          Not enough.

Silence.

Vladimir:          You could try painting.

Estragon:          Would that be a good idea?

Vladimir:          It’d pass the time. I have a few extra brushes. (Estragon hesitates.) I assure you, it’d be an occupation.

Estragon:          A relaxation.

Vladimir:          A recreation.

Estragon:          A relaxation.

Vladimir:          Try.

Estragon:          You’ll help me?

Vladimir:          I will, of course.

Estragon:          We don’t manage too badly, eh Didi, between the two of us?

Vladimir:          (moves to his desk, returns with a pad of paper, a brush, and a few small plastic containers of paint, hands them across the divider.) Yes, yes. Come on. Sit down and give it a try.

Estragon:          We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?

Vladimir:          We’re magicians. But let us persevere in what we have resolved, before we forget. (Estragon moves some debris off the metal frame of the bunk, then sets his mattress back on top of it from where it had been tossed against the wall. He shifts some random items piled on his desk to the side, then sits on the bed, concentrates as he tries dabbing brush into paint, paint onto paper. Vladimir stares at the painting of the tree. Estragon gets angry, crumples the paper and throws it towards the front of the cell, stands and moves back to the front of the cell.) Well?

Estragon:          No good.

Vladimir:          Show.

Estragon:          Nothing to show. I tried painting the beach and all I could get down on paper were bars.

Vladimir:          The point was to try to escape all of that for a bit.

Estragon:          I cannot escape. Even freedom would be meaningless to me now. (Puts his face in his hands.) If I could only sleep.

Vladimir:          Yesterday you slept.

Estragon:          Watch for me, Didi?

Vladimir:          Fine, but if he comes and I cannot get you up, don’t be angry if he lets me out and you have to stay behind.

Estragon:          You’d figure out how to get me out there with you.

Vladimir:          Maybe.

Estragon:          I’m going. (He goes to bed, lies down.)

Vladimir:          (sings softly.) A prisoner lays down his tired head, once asleep his cellie kills him dead.

Estragon:          Dude, seriously?

Vladimir:          (laughs.) Fine, fine. 

Estragon sleeps. Vladimir paces a bit, rubs his hands and shoulders to warm himself up. Stares again at the painting on the desk. Estragon wakes up with a start and a cry, jumps up, casts about wildly, moves swiftly to the bars.

Estragon:          Didi!

Vladimir:          I’m here. Don’t be afraid.

Estragon:          Ah!

Vladimir:          (uses his mirror.) There… there… it’s all over.

Estragon:          I was able to fly, right over the razor wire –

Vladimir:          It’s all over, it’s all over.

Estragon:          I landed on a street corner. Everyone was dressed strangely and they had –

Vladimir:          Don’t tell me! Come on, we’ll walk it off. Pace with me.

They pace a few steps, left to right, until Estragon stops.

Estragon:          That’s enough. I’m tired.

Vladimir:          You’d rather be stuck there doing nothing?

Estragon:          I really need to clean this mess up at some point. (He doesn’t move.)

Vladimir:          Please yourself. (He leans his elbows on the bars, extends his arms outside of the cell.)

Estragon:          Will this day never end?

Vladimir:          It cannot yet.

Estragon:          Why?

Vladimir:          We’re still waiting for Warden Godot.

Estragon:          Ah!

Vladimir:          It’s colder today than yesterday.

Estragon:          It’ll get colder still, as night falls.

Vladimir:          But night doesn’t fall.

Estragon:          It’ll fall all of a sudden, like yesterday. And then we can go.

Vladimir:          Then it’ll be day again.

Estragon:          (despairing.) What’ll we do, what’ll we do?

Vladimir:          (halting, violently.) Will you stop whingeing? I’ve had about my bellyful of your lamentations!

Estragon:          I’m going.

Vladimir:          (sees Pozzo’s hat in a pile of materials on the floor.) Well!

Estragon:          Farewell.

Vladimir:          Look at that. Pozzo’s hat. They found it, tossed it out, and didn’t even bother to take it. (Moves to bunk, gathers a sheet and a book, ties these together, uses this to fish the hat back into his cell.) It’s been sitting there the whole time and I never noticed it. (Pulls hat within reach, bends down to collect it.) Look at that!

Estragon:          I wish I could just sleep forever and never wake.

Vladimir:          I made it through a shakedown with an officer’s hat and a key! (Takes his watchcap off, puts Pozzo’s hat on, hands his cap to Estragon.) Here. 

Estragon:          What?

Vladimir:          Hold that. (Estragon takes Vladimir’s cap. Vladimir adjusts Pozzo’s hat on his head. Estragon puts on Vladimir’s cap in place of his own which he hands around the dividing wall to Vladimir. Vladimir takes Estragon’s cap. Estragon adjusts Vladimir’s cap on his head. Vladimir puts on Estragon’s cap in place of Pozzo’s hat which he hands to Estragon. Estragon takes Pozzo’s hat. Vladimir adjusts Estragon’s cap on his head. Estragon puts on Pozzo’s hat in place of Vladimir’s cap which he hands to Vladimir. Vladimir takes his cap. Estragon adjusts Pozzo’s hat on his head. Vladimir puts on his cap in place of Estragon’s which he hands to Estragon. Estragon takes his cap. Vladimir adjusts his cap on his head. Estragon puts on his cap in place of Pozzo’s hat which he passes to Vladimir. Vladimir takes Pozzo’s hat and puts it on in place of his own cap which he hands to Estragon. Estragon takes Vladimir’s cap. Vladimir adjusts Pozzo’s hat on his head. Estragon hands Vladimir’s cap back to Vladimir who takes it and hands it back to Estragon who takes it and hands it back to Vladimir who takes it and throws it down.) How does it fit me?

Estragon:          How would I know?

Vladimir:          You lose your mirror? How do I look in it? (He turns his head coquettishly to and fro, minces like a mannequin.)

Estragon:          (looks via his mirror.) Hideous.

Vladimir:          Yes, but not more so than usual?

Estragon:          Neither more nor less.

Vladimir:          Then I shall keep it. Until next shakedown, I mean. Mine irked me. (Pause.) How shall I say it? (Pause.) It itched me. (He takes off Pozzo’s hat, peers into it, shakes it, knocks on the crown, puts it on again.)

Estragon:          I’m going.

Silence.

Vladimir:          Will you not play?

Estragon:          Play at what?

Vladimir:          We could play at Pozzo and Lucky.

Estragon:          Why the hell would I want to pretend to be either one?

Vladimir:          I’ll do Lucky, you do Pozzo. (He imitates pushing a broom along.) Go on.

Estragon:          What am I to do?

Vladimir:          Curse me!

Estragon:          (after reflection.) Ho.

Vladimir:          Stronger.

Estragon:          Bitch-ass ho.

Vladimir:          (sways back and forth, as if tugged on by a leash.) Tell me to think.

Estragon:          What?

Vladimir:          Say, think, boy!

Estragon:          Think, boy!

Silence.

Vladimir:          I can’t!

Estragon:          That’s enough of that.

Vladimir:          Tell me to dance.

Estragon:          I’m going.

Vladimir:          Dance, galdernit! (He writhes. Estragon moves towards his bed, looks around at the mess on the floor, picks up a few items, sets them down again, sits on his bunk, stares at the wall.) I can’t! (He looks up, uses his mirror, misses Estragon.) Gogo! (He paces a bit. Estragon stands, moves to the far side of his cell, uses his mirror to look right, listens, a look of fear, then he hastens back to the left side of his cell.) There you are again!

Estragon:          Dude, we’re in trouble.

Vladimir:          What are you talking about?

Estragon:          I hear boots stomping. They’re coming!

Vladimir:          Who?

Estragon:          The team, maybe. I don’t know.

Vladimir:          How many?

Estragon:          I don’t know.

Vladimir:          (triumphantly.) It’s Warden Godot! At last! Gogo! It’s Godot! We’re saved! (He grabs his mirror and sticks it outside the bars, aimed to stage right.) Do you see them?

Estragon:          (uses his mirror, then sticks his ear towards the audience.) I think they’re coming from that way. (Points to the left.) We’re surrounded! (Casts about wildly, rushed to his bunk, searches around underneath, removes his shank.) I’m not going quietly this time. I’ve had enough.

Vladimir:          Imbecile, he’s coming to help.

Estragon:          They’re coming to kill us.

Vladimir:          Just put that away and let me do the talking.

Estragon:          We should hide.

Vladimir:          (sarcastically.) You want my painting back? You can hide behind the tree.

Estragon:          (calmer.) I lost my head. Forgive me. It won’t happen again. Tell me what to do.

Vladimir:          There’s nothing to do. Put that away. Just wait. (He scans to the right, screening his eyes with his hand. Estragon places the shank on his desk, then takes up the same position, scans to the left. They turn their mirrors until they are looking at each other for a moment, then resume their watch. Long silence.) Do you see anyone coming?

Estragon:          (turning his head.) What?

Vladimir:          (louder.) Do you see anything coming?

Estragon:          No.

Vladimir:          Nor I. (They resume their watch. Silence.) You must still be tripping a bit from yesterday’s dope.

Estragon:          No need to shout!

They resume their watch. Silence.

Vladimir:          Maybe it was the head wound.

Silence.

Vladimir &

Estragon:          (turning simultaneously.) Do you – 

Vladimir:          Oh, pardon.

Estragon:          Carry on.

Vladimir:          No, no, after you.

Estragon:          No, no, you first.

Vladimir:          I interrupted you.

Estragon:          On the contrary.

They glare at each other in their mirrors.

Vladimir:          Ceremonious ape!

Estragon:          Punctilious pig!

Vladimir:          Finish your phrase, I tell you!

Estragon:          Finish your own!

Vladimir:          Moron.

Estragon:          That’s the idea, let’s abuse each other.

Vladimir:          Psych patient.

Estragon:          Trumpist!

Vladimir:          Abortion!

Estragon:          Morpion!

Vladimir:          Sewer rat!

Estragon:          Curate!

Vladimir:          Cretin!

Estragon:          (with finality.) Crritic!

Vladimir:          Oh! (He wilts, vanquished, and turns away.)

Estragon:          Now let’s make up.

Vladimir:          Gogo!

Estragon:          Didi!

Vladimir:          Your hand!

Estragon:          Take it!

They clasp hands.

Vladimir:          How time flies when one has fun!

Silence.

Estragon:          What do we do now?

Vladimir:          While waiting.

Estragon:          While waiting.

Silence.

Vladimir:          We could do our exercises.

Estragon:          Our movements. 

Vladimir:          Our elevations.

Estragon:          Our relaxations.

Vladimir:          Our elongations.

Estragon:          Our relaxations.

Vladimir:          To warm up.

Estragon:          To calm us down.

Vladimir:          Burpies on three then. One… two… three! (He drops to the push-up position, does a push-up, then stands and jumps. Estragon imitates him.)

Estragon:          (stopping.) That’s enough. I’m tired.

Vladimir:          (stopping.) We’re not in form. We used to do thirty-down, remember?

Estragon:          We were kids then. 

Vladimir:          True. What about a little deep breathing?

Estragon:          I’ve had it with breathing. We should have stopped doing that years ago.

Vladimir:          Maybe. (Pause.) Let’s just do the tree, for the balance.

Estragon:          The tree?

Vladimir:          (does the tree, staggering about on one leg. Stopping.) Your turn.

Estragon:          (does the tree, staggers.) Do you think God sees me?

Vladimir:          You must close your eyes.

Estragon:          (closes his eyes, staggers worse. Stopping, brandishing his fists, at the top of his voice.) God have pity on me! Dismas! Governor Abbott! Chairman Gutierrez! Someone! Anyone!

Vladimir:          (vexed.) And me?

Estragon:          On me! On me! Pity! On me!

Enter Officer Pozzo and Lucky. Pozzo is blind. Lucky burdened as before with a broom and Pozzo’s stool. Rope is as before, but much shorter, so that Pozzo may follow more easily. Pozzo is wearing a different hat. At the sight of Vladimir and Estragon, Lucky stops, winks and nods, and then jams his thumb back in the direction of Pozzo and grins widely. Pozzo, continuing on his way, bumps heavily into him.

Vladimir:          Gogo!

Pozzo:              (clutching onto Lucky, who staggers.) What is it? Who is it?

Lucky falls, drops the broom and stool, and brings Pozzo down with him. Lucky tries to rise, stumbles, falls, clearly stunned. Pozzo tries to stand, clobbers Lucky on the head, both laid out on the floor. Vladimir gets down on his knees and tries to snatch the ring of keys off Pozzo’s belt but can’t quite reach. Lucky and Pozzo lie helpless among the stool, rope, tote bag, whip, and Pozzo’s new hat.

Estragon:          Is it Warden Godot?

Vladimir:          At last! (He tries to reach for the stool, fails.) Reinforcements at last!

Pozzo:              Help!

Estragon:          Is it Warden Godot? (Rubs nose.) What’s that smell?

Vladimir:          We were beginning to weaken. Now we’re sure to see the evening out.

Pozzo:              Help!

Estragon:          Do you hear him?

Vladimir:          We are no longer alone, waiting for the night, waiting for Warden Godot, waiting for… waiting. All morning and afternoon we have struggled, unassisted. Now it’s over. It’s already tomorrow.

Pozzo:              Help me, you bastards!

Vladimir:          Time flows again already. The sun will set, the moon rise, and we away… at least to dreams.

Pozzo:              Pity!

Vladimir:          Poor Pozzo!

Estragon:          I knew it was him.

Vladimir:          Who?

Estragon:          Godot.

Vladimir:          But it’s not Warden Godot.

Estragon:          It’s not Godot?

Vladimir:          It’s not Godot.

Estragon:          Then who is it?

Vladimir:          It’s Pozzo. The fool from yesterday. (Pause.) You really must be concussed.

Estragon:          Why?

Vladimir:          Because his bag is right there in front of your cell. Do you not recall the snacks?

Estragon:          Shit, I’m tripping. (He snatches at the tote, pulls it into his cell, and then begins to dance around, one arm raised to the sky, in triumph. Removes a pair of sandwiches, some candy bars, a pack of cigarettes, and a bag of chips.) Dude, here. (Passes a sandwich around the dividing wall.) Enjoy. 

Vladimir:          You’re indispensable.

Estragon:          Thank you for not dispensing with me.

Pozzo:              Here! Here! Officer down! Help me up!

Vladimir:          He can’t get up.

Estragon:          Fuck him, I’m eating. Maybe on a full stomach I can finally sleep. (Sneezes.) You smell                             gas?

Vladimir:          A little, yes. But you can’t go.

Estragon:          Why not? 

Vladimir:          We’re waiting for Warden Godot.

Estragon:          Ah!

Vladimir:          Besides, this is really an amazing display of clumsiness here. Look at this one. He looks like some kind of massive, prehistoric amoeba brought to the surface by a dragnet. (Pause.) Perhaps we should help him. (Sniffs air.) It’s getting stronger. Somebody definitely got the can.

Estragon:          To do what?

Vladimir:          To get up.

Estragon:          He can’t get up? (Opens the sandwich wrapper, takes a bite.) Ah…

Vladimir:          He wants to get up.

Estragon:          Then let him get up.

Vladimir:          He can’t.

Estragon:          Why not?

Vladimir:          Hell if I know. What’s wrong with his eyes?

Officer Pozzo writhes, groans, beats the ground with his fists. Lucky remains laid out.

Estragon:          We should ask him for something first, like extra dinner trays. Then if he refuses, we’ll leave him there.

Vladimir:          You mean we have him at our mercy?

Estragon:          Yes.

Vladimir:          And that we should subordinate our good offices to certain conditions?

Estragon:          The devil are you talking about?

Vladimir:          That seems intelligent all right. But there’s one thing I’m afraid of.

Pozzo:              Help!

Estragon:          What?

Vladimir:          Where’s the rest of them? This hippo stumbles in here all messed up, so something clearly happened. Where is the rest of the goon squad? We get our hands on this guy and the rest show up, you know what it’s going to look like.

Estragon:          Lucky could vouch for us.

Vladimir:          Lucky’s out of there.

Estragon:          He tooned out again? See if you can get his stash.

Vladimir:          He’s TKO’d. I think Pozzo hit him on accident. I can’t reach him, in any case.

Estragon:          If only I could get out of this cage, I’d give the both of them a thrashing just on general principle.

Vladimir:          No, the best would be to take advantage of Pozzo’s calling for help –

Pozzo:              Help!

Vladimir:          To help him.

Estragon:          We help him?

Vladimir:          In anticipation of some tangible return. (Sets the sandwich down on his desk.)

Estragon:          And suppose he –

Vladimir:          Let us not waste our time in idle chit-chat! (Pause. Vehemently.) Didn’t we just talk about starting over? Let us then do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. Frankly, it has been years since that was genuinely the case. Other humans would meet the case equally well, if not better. Yet look around: no other humans are present, only animals in cages. To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears. We are mankind, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late. Let us represent for once the foul brood to which a cruel fate consigned us! What do you say? (Estragon says nothing, as his mouth is filled with food.) It is true that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and cons we are no less a credit to our species. The tiger bounds to the help of his congeners without the least reflection, or else he slinks away into the depths of the thickets. But that is not the question. What are we doing here, thatis the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Warden Godot to come –

Estragon:          Ah!

Pozzo:              Help!

Vladimir:          Or for night to fall. (Pause.) We did our filings per the regulations and we’ve done our time – we’ve kept up our end of things, to the best of our abilities, and that’s an end to that. We are not saints, but we survived and we did our part. How many people can boast as much?

Estragon:          Billions.

Vladimir:          You think so?

Estragon:          I don’t know.

Vladimir:          You may be right.

Pozzo:              Help!

Vladimir:          All I know is, I’ve spent more than half my life behind bars and the hours are very long under these conditions, and I continually constrain to beguile them with proceedings which – how shall I say – which may at first seem merely boring, until they become a habit. You may say it is to prevent our reason from foundering. No doubt. But has it not long been straying in the night without end of the abyssal depths? That’s what I sometimes wonder. You follow my reasoning?

Estragon:          (aphoristic for once.) We are all born mad. Some remain so.

Pozzo:              Help! I’ll make it worth your while!

Estragon:          Oh? What are we talking about?

Pozzo:              I’ve got me some smokes you kin have.

Estragon:          I’ve got those already, pig. How about a phone?

Vladimir:          I wouldn’t go as far as that.

Estragon:          Too much?

Vladimir:          No, I mean so far as to assert that I was weak in the head when I came into the world. But that is not the question.

Pozzo:              Extra rec ever’ time I work the pod!

Vladimir:          We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don’t protest, we are bored to death, there’s no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste.

Estragon:          I’m not wasting anything. I’m trying to get us a jag.

Vladimir:          Come, let’s see what can be done from here. (He reaches out, tries to grab Pozzo’s shirt, which is just out of reach.) In an instant all will vanish and we’ll be alone once more, in the midst of nothingness!

Pozzo:              Extra trays! Recs and trays!

Vladimir:          We’re coming, we’re coming. Look, blimp, we can’t reach you, so you are going to have to roll over this way so I can get my hands on you.

Pozzo moves closer to the cells, feels Vladimir’s hands, recoils, then allows Vladimir to try to pull him up. As Vladimir strains, his feet slip and they both end up on the floor.

Estragon:          (watching via his mirror.) The hell is the matter with you all?

Vladimir:          Damnit, I busted my nose.

Estragon:          Man, this whole thing is a bad trip. I’m going to bed.

Vladimir:          Don’t leave me, you fucker. I think I threw out my back.

Pozzo:              What damned wing is this? How come no one will help me?

Vladimir:          Gogo!

Pozzo:              Help!

Vladimir:          Help!

Estragon:          I’m going.

Vladimir:          I may need you to call man down.

Estragon:          You deserve to be hurt, helping that screw like that without some kind of payment.

Pozzo:              Here! Here! Pity!

Estragon:          I’m going.

Vladimir:          Well I suppose in the end I’ll get up by myself. (He tries, fails.) In the fullness of time.

Estragon:          What’s the matter with you?

Vladimir:          Go to hell.

Estragon:          You going to stay on the floor like that?

Vladimir:          For the time being.

Estragon:          Come on, get up, you aren’t hurt.

Vladimir:          Don’t worry about me.

Estragon:          Come on, Didi, don’t be pig-headed. Look, can you reach my hand? (He reaches down, around the dividing wall.)

Vladimir:          Maybe. (He reaches out his hand, manages to clasp Estragon’s.) Pull! (Estragon tries to                           pull him up, slips and falls on his face. Long silence.)

Vladimir:          That worked out well.

Pozzo:              Help!

Vladimir:          Oh, shut the hell up, already. We’ve arrived.

Pozzo:              Who are you?

Vladimir:          We are men.

Silence.

Estragon:          (rubbing his hand along his back.) Sweet mother earth!

Vladimir:          Can you get up?

Estragon:          I don’t know.

Vladimir:          Try.

Estragon:          Not now, not now.

Silence.

Pozzo:              What happened?

Vladimir:          (violently.) Will you stop it, you! Pest! He can think of nothing but himself! The damned earth is 16,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 times bigger than you are, even considering the enormity of your fat ass.

Estragon:          What about a little nap?

Vladimir:          Did you hear him? He wants to know what happened!

Estragon:          Don’t mind him. Sleep.

Silence.

Pozzo:              Pity! Pity!

Estragon:          (with a start.) What is it?

Vladimir:          Were you asleep?

Estragon:          I must have been.

Vladimir:          It’s this bastard Pozzo at it again.

Estragon:          Make him stop it. Kick him in the crotch.

Vladimir:          I’ll see if I can reach. (Extends his leg through the bars, kicks Pozzo in the back.) Will you not shut the hell up?! Crablouse! (Pozzo crawls away, wiping at his eyes and crying in pain. He stops, saws the air blindly, calling for help. Vladimir, propped up on his elbow, observes his retreat.) He’s off! (Pozzo collapses.) He’s down!

Estragon:          What do we do now?

Vladimir:          If only I could have gotten those keys. Pozzo! (Silence.) Pozzo! (Silence.) No reply. He’s sulking.

Estragon:          Together.

Vladimir & 

Estragon:          Pozzo!

Vladimir:          He moved!

Estragon:          Are you sure his name is Pozzo?

Vladimir:          (alarmed.) Mr Pozzo! Come back! We won’t hurt you!

Silence.

Estragon:          We might try him with other names.

Vladimir:          I’m afraid he’s dying. There’s going to be hell to pay if the bastard croaks right there in front of our cells. Lucky! Get your ass up!

Estragon:          It’d be amusing.

Vladimir:          What’d be amusing?

Estragon:          To try him with other names, one after another. It’d pass the time. And we’d be bound to hit the right one sooner or later.

Vladimir:          I tell you, his name is Pozzo.

Estragon:          We’ll soon see. (He reflects.) Abel! Abel!

Pozzo:              Help!

Estragon:          Got it in one!

Vladimir:          I begin to weary of this motif.

Estragon:          Perhaps the other is called Cain. Cain! Cain!

Pozzo:              Help!

Estragon:          Fucker’s all humanity. (Silence.) Suppose we tried to get up?

Vladimir:          No harm trying.

They get up.

Estragon:          Child’s play.

Vladimir:          Simple question of willpower.

Estragon:          And now?

Pozzo:              Help!

Estragon:          I’m going.

Vladimir:          You can’t.

Estragon:          Why not?

Vladimir:          We’re waiting for Warden Godot.

Estragon:          Ah! (Despairing.) What’ll we do, what’ll we do?

Pozzo:              Help!

Vladimir:          What about helping this idiot?

Estragon:          What does he want?

Vladimir:          He wants to get up.

Estragon:          Then why doesn’t he?

Vladimir:          He wants us to help him to get up. Maybe we can do it together.

Estragon:          Then why don’t we? What are we waiting for?

Vladimir:          Pozzo, come over here, we’ll help you up. (Pozzo struggles towards the voices.)  No, more to your right. There. Now, hold on. (Vladimir tries lifting from one side, Estragon from the other. They get Pozzo to his feet. Pozzo sags between them, his back to the dividing wall.) Feeling better?

Pozzo:              Who are you?

Vladimir:          Do you not recognize us?

Pozzo:              I’m blind, goddamit.

Silence.

Estragon:          Perhaps he can see into the future. You know, like Tiresias, with man-boobs.

Vladimir:          Since when?

Pozzo:              For some time now – but are you friends?

Estragon:          (laughs noisily.) He wants to know if we are friends! I’ve sure put up with a hell of a lot over the past two decades if we aren’t.

Vladimir:          No, he means friends of his.

Estragon:          Well?

Vladimir:          We’ve proved that by helping him, I think. I mean, he weighs as much as a steer. An enemy wouldn’t have gone to the trouble.

Estragon:          Exactly. My arms hurt even now.

Pozzo:              Can you call medical on your radio?

Vladimir:          Radio? He thinks we’re officers.

Estragon:          Officers! Do we look like officers?

Vladimir:          Damn it, can’t you see the man is blind?

Estragon:          Damn it, so he is. (Pause.) So he says.

Pozzo:              Don’t leave me!

Vladimir:          No question of it. (Tries to reach around Pozzo’s belly to his ring of keys, can’t quite make it.)

Estragon:          For the moment.

Pozzo:              What time is it?

Vladimir:          (leaves off reaching for the keys, grips Pozzo’s wrist, removes his watch.) Seven o’clock sharp. (Puts Pozzo’s watch on his own wrist.) Nice.

Pozzo:              Am I in One-Building yet? I needs to get to the ‘nfirmary.

Estragon:          How much longer are we going to support Stay Puft here? (He begins to let go of Pozzo, who starts to slide down the wall before Estragon grabs him again.) I’m not a damned caryatid!

Vladimir:          What happened to your eyes?

Pozzo:              Some idjit on D-Line done tried to spray me with a bottle of shit, so I went fer me gas. The dadgum bottle done blew up right in my face!

Vladimir:          Gogo!

Estragon:          I heard! No wonder my nose itches.

Vladimir:          (thinking, looks at watch.) How long ago was this?

Pozzo:              I don’t know. The blind have no notion of time. The things of time is hidden from them, too.

Vladimir:          Well just fancy that! I could have sworn it was just the opposite.

Pozzo:              You can’t take me to the ‘nfirmary? I got ta get these chem’cals out my eyes. Where am I?

Vladimir:          You are no place. (Looks around.) It’s indescribable. It’s like nothing. There’s nothing but iron and red brick. There are bars.

Estragon:          I’m going to eat. Screw this. (Lets Pozzo go. Pozzo sags against the wall.)

Pozzo:              Where’s my boy? My menial?

Vladimir:          He’s about somewhere.

Pozzo:              How come he don’t answer when I call?

Vladimir:          I don’t know. He’s laid out on the ground. I think you clobbered him when you fell.

Pozzo:              What happened exactly?

Estragon:          Exactly! (Opens candy bar, begins to eat.)

Vladimir:          The two of you slipped. (Pause.) And fell.

Pozzo:              He ain’t hurt one. He just lazy. Go kick him and he’ll be right up.

Vladimir:          I’m not going to kick a fellow convict.

Pozzo:              Convict! Yer a convict?! (He shrugs off Vladimir’s hand, then topples forward on his hands and knees.) How come you didn’t say nothing from the get-go? What was you waitin’ on?

Estragon:          We’re waiting for Warden Godot.

Pozzo:              Goddam inmates. (Begins feeling forward, crawling on the floor towards Lucky’s inert form.) Where you at, boy? Get your ass up and help me!

Vladimir:          You don’t remember us? We met yesterday. (Silence.) Do you not remember?

Pozzo:              I don’t remember meetin’ no one yesterday. But tomorrow I won’t ‘member having met nobody today. So don’t count on me to enlighten you none.

Vladimir:          But –

Pozzo:              (finding Lucky’s foot.) Got you! Get your black ass up right this minute.

Vladimir:          You were on your rounds. You spoke to us. He danced. He thought. You described the sunset.

Pozzo:              Whatever. I gotta get my eyes back. Up, Lucky, damn you! (Pushes Lucky’s inert form. Lucky stirs, sits up, rubs his head, then struggles to stand.) Don’t forget all my stuff.

Estragon:          Here. (Throws the tote bag to Lucky. Lucky gathers the stool, hat, broom.) I’m going too. (He returns to bed, lays down.)

Pozzo:              On, damn you. (Lucky takes his place before Pozzo.) Whip! (Lucky puts the stool down, takes the whip out of the bag, hands it to Pozzo, takes up everything again.) Rope! (Lucky puts everything down, puts the end of the rope into Pozzo’s hand, takes up everything again.)

Vladimir:          Before you go, tell him to sing.

Pozzo:              Who?

Vladimir:          Lucky.

Pozzo:              To sing?

Vladimir:          Yes. Or to think. Or to recite.

Pozzo:              But he is dumb.

Vladimir:          Dumb?!

Pozzo:              Dumb. He can’t even groan.

Lucky rolls his eyes.

Vladimir:          Dumb?! Since when?

Pozzo:              (suddenly furious.) Have you not done tormentin’ me with your accursed time?! It’s abominable! When?! When?! One day, is that not enough for you, one day he jest stop talkin’ to me, one day I done got me a faulty can of gas and went blind, one day we’ll go deaf, one day we was born, one day we gone die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? (Calmer.) They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more. (He jars on the rope.) On!

Exeunt Pozzo and Lucky. Vladimir follows them with his mirror. The noise of falling, reinforced by mimic and wince of Vladimir, announces that they are down again. Silence. Vladimir looks towards Estragon’s cell in his mirror, contemplates. Looks around the cell. Paces. Returns to the dividing wall and hits it with his hand.)

Estragon:          (wild gestures, incoherent words. Finally.) Why will you never let me sleep?

Vladimir:          I felt lonely.

Estragon:          I was dreaming. I was happy.

Vladimir:          That passed the time.

Estragon:          I was dreaming that –

Vladimir:          (violently.) Don’t tell me! (Silence.) You blinded an officer. (Pause.) At least temporarily. Stories will be told about this for years.

Estragon:          Blinded? Who?

Vladimir:          Pozzo.

Estragon:          Oh, him. Serves him right. He’s gone?

Vladimir:          I wonder what game Lucky is playing at, not talking.

Estragon:          (yawns.) Who knows? (Pause.) Let’s go. We can’t. Ah! (Pause.) Are you sure it wasn’t 

him?

Vladimir:          Who?

Estragon:          Warden Godot.

Vladimir:          But who?

Estragon:          Pozzo.

Vladimir:          Not at all! (Less sure.) Not at all! (Still less sure, stares about madly.) Not at all!

Estragon:          I suppose I might as well get up. (He gets up painfully, moves to the bars.)

Vladimir:          I don’t honestly know what to think anymore. Maybe I too am concussed.

Estragon:          All the cool kids are doing it.

Vladimir:          Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, in these cells, until the fall of night, I waited for Warden Godot. That Pozzo passed, with his trustee, and that he spoke to us? Probably. But in all that, what truth will there be? (Estragon, listening, throws his hands up in frustration, rubs his back, and returns to bed, laying down. Vladimir watches him in his mirror.) He’ll know nothing. He’ll tell me about the blows he received and I’ll give him a mint stick. (Pause.) Astride a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the Hole, lingeringly, the gravedigger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries, ignored. (He listens.) But habit is a great deadener. (He looks again at Estragon in his mirror.) At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, he is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. (Pause.) I can’t go on! (Pause.) What have I said? (He goes feverishly to and fro, halts finally at the extreme left side of the cell, broods.)

Enter Warden’s Boy right, doing a cell count. He checks off names on a piece of paper as he moves from cell to cell. He halts when he sees Vladimir.

Boy:                 ‘Sup.

Vladimir:          Here we go again. Go on, say it.

Boy:                 Say what, Wood?

Vladimir:          You keep telling me Warden Godot is going to come to seg, and then he doesn’t show. And then you say he’ll be around tomorrow.

Boy:                 I can’t control that nigga. He the warden.

Vladimir:          So he’s not coming around today?

Boy:                 Nah.

Vladimir:          But he’ll come around tomorrow?

Boy:                 That’s the plan.

Vladimir:          Without fail.

Boy:                 (laughs sarcastically.) Right.

Silence.

Vladimir:          What does he do all day, Warden Godot? (Silence.) Do you hear me?

Boy:                 Yeah.

Vladimir:          Well?

Boy:                  Honestly? He don’t do shit. Mostly he watch television in his office. Sometime he plays with dem dogs.

Silence.

Vladimir:          (softly.) Go on then.

Boy:                  You aight, homie?

Vladimir:          Nothing to be done.

Boy leaves. Vladimir rests his arms on the bars, his forehead pressed into them. Estragon wakes, rubs his feet, moves to the front of the cell, uses his mirror to look to the left.

Estragon:          What’s wrong with you?

Vladimir:          Nothing new.

Estragon:          Was I long asleep?

Vladimir:          I don’t know. (Pause.) I don’t know anything anymore.

Estragon:          You know we’ll still be here tomorrow. You can bet on that.

Vladimir:          Yeah. (Pause.) We have to be here tomorrow, in any case.

Estragon:          What for?

Vladimir:          To wait for Warden Godot.

Estragon:          Ah! (Silence.) He didn’t come?

Vladimir:          No.

Estragon:          And now it’s too late?

Vladimir:          Yes. He’s gone home by now.

Silence.

Estragon:          You remember what that was like?

Vladimir:          What?

Estragon:          To have a home to go home to.

Vladimir:          No.

Estragon:          Me either. (Long pause.) Why don’t we hang ourselves?

Vladimir:          We’re dead already. Take your pulse. (Pause.) You didn’t happen to cut off a piece of rope from Pozzo’s whip, did you?

Estragon:          I was focused on the food.

Vladimir:          Then we can’t.

Silence.

Estragon:          Wait, there’s my belt.

Vladimir:          It’s too short.

Estragon:          You could… I don’t know, reach around and pull down on my legs.

Vladimir:          And who would do the same for me?

Estragon:          True.

Vladimir:          Show all the same. (Estragon loosens the cord that holds up his pants which, because they are so old and the elastic has worn out of them, fall about his ankles. Estragon hands one end of the cord to Vladimir.) It might do in a pinch. But is it strong enough?

Estragon:          We’ll soon see. Here.

They each take their end of the cord and pull. It breaks, they almost fall.

Vladimir:          Not worth a curse.

Silence.

Estragon:          We will find a better rope tomorrow.

Vladimir:          Yes.

Silence.

Estragon:          Didi?

Vladimir:          Yes?

Estragon:          I can’t go on like this. It has to end at some point.

Vladimir:          That’s what you think.

Estragon:          If we parted? I could file an offender protection complaint against you. They’d have to move us apart then.

Vladimir:          We’ll hang ourselves tomorrow. (Pause.) Unless Warden Godot comes.

Estragon:          And if he comes?

Vladimir:          Then we’ll be saved. Maybe. (Pause.) There is a chance we will be saved. (He takes off Pozzo’s hat, peers inside it, feels about inside it, shakes it out, knocks on the crown, puts it on again.)

Estragon:          Well? Shall we go to bed?

Vladimir:          Pull on your trousers.

Estragon:          What?

Vladimir:          Pull on your trousers.

Estragon:          You want me to pull off my trousers?

Vladimir:          Pull ON your trousers.

Estragon:          (realizing his pants are down.) True. (He pulls up his pants.)

Vladimir:          Well? Shall we go?

Estragon:          Yes, let’s go.

They do not move.

                                                                                                                        Curtain.

Thomas Bartlett Whitaker

1 Comment

  • Dan D
    January 3, 2022 at 6:40 pm

    Intricately woven…despair, humor, companionship. So many levels, I wouldn’t know where to begin to critique this (positively, of course). Suffice it to say, I liked it. Thank you for writing this.

    Reply

Leave a Reply