After being CHASED and OUT-OF-BREATHED through the deep, dark woods, three men come across an abandoned cabin. Though it’s spooky and dark and suspiciously THERE, the three of them decide to go in and hide from The Beast—the terror that’s been stalking them.
Soon after, they debate among themselves as to what they should do. Run, run, run and regather? Or just calmly and plainly (and COWARDLY-LIKE) accept their deaths?
BOO. I don’t much think this is a good idea…!
DIBBS. The beast knows we’re in here anyway!
BOO. It might not’ve known.
QUIBSY. No, not until now. It might not’ve known.
DIBBS. It most definitely knew. The nose on that
thing is the most remarkable sensor on this entire planet. I tested it once, you know—before I ran into the likes of you two.
QUIBSY. You’ve tested its nose?
DIBBS. Imagine the scientifical knowledge humanity will lose upon our deaths. We have failed more than ourselves.
QUIBSY. We’ve outrun it this entire time. This entire time, we have.
DIBBS. Only because it’s let us.
Can’t you possibly see that?
BOO. You awful, awful pessimist!
QUIBSY. To the mouse, it probably looks like that too.
DIBBS. It looks like what? That we’re fffff—
DIBBS. I was expecting you to interrupt me.
DIBBS. That we’re fucked! We’re fucked! Even a mouse can see we’re fucked!
QUIBSY. When I said, “To the
mouse, it probably looks like that too,” that’s not
the that that I was talking about…
DIBBS. Well then, YOU’RE fucked and you’re stupid too! You’re stupid, Quibsy!
QUIBSY. I’ll let that one go!
DIBBS. Like I believe that! You’ll let that one
go as much as the beast has supposedly let US go.
QUIBSY. He might’ve.
DIBBS. Most definitely NOT.
QUIBSY. Well this is precisely what I want to address, if only you would let me finish.
DIBBS. Go on. (Sigh.)
QUIBSY. To the mouse, it probably looks like something huge and lumbering and scary and mighty strong—
QUIBSY. –something MIGHTY FEARSOME
like us human people…the little mouse probably thinks we know precisely where it runs off to whenever it runs. In its little corner under the bed, the mouse probably trembles and weeps.
QUIBSY. Well we’re not cats. When the mouse runs, the mouse evades us.
DIBBS. That beast is much more of a cat than a man.
QUIBSY. That’s not my point, Dibbs! You’re purposefully being obtuse.
QUIBSY. And I say you’re wrong.
DIBBS. What do you say, Boo?
BOO. I’m of the opinion that we’ll live.
DIBBS. Well you’re both stupid, then. Stupid!
DIBBS. You mean to squirrel our way out of here?
QUIBSY. Oh yeah, smug face? Well listen to this: squirrels are rodents too!
BOO. I think you’re right, Quibsy. We should be hatching out a plan.
DIBBS. I don’t know how long you two have known each other—
DIBBS. –but when I met you two, you were both cowering in a cranny.
BOO. I would say it was more of a pit.
QUIBSY. Or hole? What about hole?
DIBBS. Nook, nick, prick, or slit—
QUIBSY. Or hole? What about hole?
DIBBS. Whatever you call it, you were both wedged in a pocket of dirt and dead leaves—
QUIBSY. A hole!
DIBBS. –and you had tears coming out your noses—
DIBBS. —and you were praying and praying—
DIBBS. —for some angel to please come help you FLY, FLY away.
QUIBSY. What? I never said that.
DIBBS. No. But HE did.
DIBBS. I heard it. Well—how could I not? Anybody with ears. Anybody with ears.
BOO. The beast never heard us.
DIBBS. I’m sure he did. Because I heard you a mile away!
DIBBS. How else do you think I found you in that little grody gulf?
DIBBS. I certainly wasn’t on the lookout for two little rats!
SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! That’s exactly what the two of you were like.
BOO. Found us!
DIBBS. …a-and? So what?
BOO. I hate to admit it, but you were the angel that I was praying for!
BOO. Aren’t I still alive thanks to my prayers?
BOO. Had I stayed silent and just CALMLY
accepted my death…!
BOO. I would have died!
DIBBS. We have lived thus far only because
the beast has let us live thus far.
QUIBSY. Who even says there’s a beast?
QUIBSY. I know, I know!
QUIBSY. We’ve SEEN it.
QUIBSY. We’ve been hunting it down!
QUIBSY. Some of us were after its
QUIBSY. Some of us were after it for
the sheer MYSTERIES it solved!
QUIBSY. And others of us were more petty.
QUIBSY. We were after the fame its
head would bring us.
QUIBSY. I know, I know. I know all of this.
BOO. Then how can you say—?
QUIBSY. Because we haven’t seen it in days!
In days! Well anything could have happened in
days! Someone else could have gotten to it!
DIBBS. BAH! False hopes, false hopes!
Nothing but false hopes!
QUIBSY. You’re just an awful pessimist.
BOO. An awful, awful pessimist!
DIBBS. I say the best use of our time is to
accept our SURE, SOON-TO-COME deaths.
DIBBS. It’s not just anybody who gets the
chance to prepare for their demise.
DIBBS. No. Most aren’t so lucky.
DIBBS. One day you’re out walking, and the next minute you’re SMUSH!
DIBBS. One day you’re munching
on a juicy hamburger, the next bite,
you’re choking on the steak condiment!
QUIBSY. Choking on the steak con—?
You mean ketchup?
DIBBS. The point is, most death is entirely
unreflective. It’s a brute fact, quick and grisly.
BOO. I don’t think that’s very true! No. I
don’t think that’s very true at all.
DIBBS. Defend yourself.
BOO. If anything, I think people nowadays— and maybe this has ALWAYS been true— spend too much of their time mulling over death. If anything, I think people are much too overprepared for death.
BOO. I say enough thinking. I want to live! I
want to live!
DIBBS. BAH! Enough. Enough!
QUIBSY. Wait! Where are you going?
DIBBS. I’m going to stare at the moon
one last time. She’s not quite full tonight,
but she’s as big and blue as I’ll ever see her.
BOO. Shht. Let him.
BOO. There. He’s gone.
QUIBSY. He’s going to attract attention to us! Oh! Oh! Now we’re sure to die! It’s a self- fulfilling prophecy! Oh! Oh!
BOO. He’s going to attract attention to himself,
Quibsy! Don’t you see that?
QUIBSY. What do you mean?
BOO. While he’s busy distracting the beast,
we run away! Don’t you see that?
BOO. I don’t know, Quibsy. I don’t know.
BOO. Whenever I start to munch on a
snack, I grow ravenous and I don’t stop
BOO. Well what if the beast’s like that?
What do we do then?
BOO. I don’t know, Quibsy. I don’t know.
BOO. All I know is that it’s a plan. And it’s
much better than just sitting here.
QUIBSY. …say, Boo?
BOO. Yes, Quibsy?
QUIBSY. If we went with your plan….
The running and all?
QUIBSY. And you and me were running
BOO. Uh huh?
QUIBSY. Would you push me down?
BOO. Why on Earth would I ever do a thing
QUIBSY. To buy yourself more time.
QUIBSY. Sorta like you and me are buying more time by throwing this doctor-scientistman to the wolves.
BOO. He’s throwing himself to the wolves!
QUIBSY. How do you mean?
BOO. Because he is! Instead of sitting here with us and coming up with a plan—
BOO. —he’s resigned himself to saying
goodbye to the moon!
BOO. Well let him. Let him resign himself to
saying goodbye to the moon. You and I, Quibsy...!
We’ll find a way!
QUIBSY. Do we run away now?
BOO. No, no, no. We can’t possibly do that.
If we run now, we’ll serve as HIS distraction!
QUIBSY. Wait. I don’t get it.
BOO. We get HIM to run. And THEN and
only then do WE run.
QUIBSY. …but how do we do that?
BOO. Well that’s what we must figure out
QUIBSY. I don’t know about this, Boo….
What if he’s right?
BOO. What? That’s it’s better to stay here
and wait for death?
QUIBSY. I mean, what if it’s inevitable? What if
the beast is really just right outside licking his chops?
BOO. And so what if it is? And so what?
BOO. You know what I say, Quibsy?
QUIBSY. Wait! He’s back!
BOO. I say that it’s ignoble to waste away in
here! Ignoble! Utterly, hideously ignoble!
QUIBSY. Wait! He’s—!
BOO. I say that I’d rather be stupid and all
fanged up—blood oozing from my neck…. I’d
rather THAT than be smart, hoity-toity, and
calmly awaiting death.
BOO. I say that’s handing over what it means to be human for the pleasure of being right. I say that’s it’s ignoble to stoically accept this!
BOO. I say that if the beast is coming anyway,
then I’d rather the outcome where I’m fighting
and struggling and panting for breath than
fixing myself up nicely for its teeth!
BOO. If it’s going to eat me and swallow me
up whole, let me be bloody and sweaty and
covered in grime than prim, plump, and
DIBBS. And is that what I was
doing outside? Perfuming myself?
BOO. Amused at a time like this!
DIBBS. You say it like I’m an insect. Well
what else is there left to do? Wallow in that
cowardly way of yours?
DIBBS. We might as well perfume ourselves!
QUIBSY. Say, Mr. Sir…. What do you say we
go for a jog?
BOO. No, Quibsy! The plan has changed.
BOO. What do you say WE go for a jog?
QUIBSY. Now? Right now?
BOO. You and me! Right now!
QUIBSY. Let’s do it, Boo!
QUIBSY. Let’s do it now!
QUIBSY. So long, Mr. Sir! I hope for your
sake you were wrong and you survive!
DIBBS. Fools! Fools! The both of you are fools!
DIBBS. They’re actually gone.
DIBBS. Let me listen. Perhaps I can hear
DIBBS. Hmm. Nothing.
After being CHASED and OUT-OF-BREATHED through the deep, dark woods, three men come across an abandoned cabin. Though it’s spooky and dark and suspiciously THERE, the three of them decide to go in and hide from The Beast—the terror that’s been stalking them. Soon after, they debate among themselves as to what they should do. Run, run, run and regather? Or just calmly and plainly (and COWARDLY-LIKE) accept their deaths?