Chekhov's Nightmare
BP Whalen

Dogs. Two of them. Now four. Now two. Four. Smells like babies. Man is crying in his bathtub. Now he’s singing. Crying. Singing. Ceiling is an envelope, unlicked. Firemen turn their hoses to the gluey strip; instead of water, out comes cheese. Curd after curd: cheddar. Now Swiss. Cheese rains down on the stage. Roger eats the third of four dogs. Now the first. Fourth. Second. Roger is what smells like babies. Coat rack humps the lamp. Lamp goes on. Now off. On. Off. Lamp is green, tired, and addicted to flourescent bulbs. Coat rack is a broken tripod. Firemen drop their hoses; hoses form a pretzel on the wall. Man in tub gets heartburn. Now ornery.

Heartburn. Ornery. Curds are piled in the corner. Firemen dance the Charleston. Roger parts the curds.

Enter GIANTIST MAN IN THE WORLD.

GIANTIST MAN IN THE WORLD (singing): ... me and Maimee O’Rourke. We tripped the light fantastic on the sidewalks of—

A siren interrupts the scene. Man in bathtub drowns. Roger, dogs, and firemen leave. Set is stripped. Naked man in white fedora brings a gun to center of empty stage, places it on the ground. Naked man leaves.

Everyone in the audience receives a Cadbury Egg.

BP Whalen is currently a student in the MFA program in Creative Writing and Environment at Iowa State University.