Out of the Wings

El flaco y el gordo (c.1959), Virgilio Piñera

Thin Man Fat Man : ACT ONE, Scene One

Thin Man Fat Man, translated by Kate Eaton

ACT ONE, Scene One

Sample text

FAT MAN:: Anyone one would think that the authorities at this hospitable institution gave you nothing to eat. (Pause.) If my eyes don’t deceive me, the orderly brings you your lunch at twelve and your supper at six. Now if these generous rations that the hospital offers you absolutely-free-of-charge aren’t enough for you, then do as I do; ask for the a la carte menu.
THIN MAN:: Ask, ask, ask…! All you have to do is ask… (Pause.) Chance would be a fine thing.
FAT MAN: (Impassive.): Well I’m going to order beef and potato stew for lunch. What time is it?
THIN MAN:: Tomorrow the same as today… Today, the same as yesterday…
FAT MAN:: I didn’t ask you about today or tomorrow. (Pause.) What time is it?
THIN MAN:: Watery soup, cornmeal mush and sweet potato.
FAT MAN:: What time is it?
THIN MAN:: Not much longer now…
FAT MAN:: That’s right… Not much longer now. (Pause.) Let’s see what my stomach wants today. (He taps his stomach.) What would you like for lunch?
THIN MAN:: I meant not much longer till I leave the hospital.
FAT MAN:: Exactly; how many more days?
THIN MAN:: One. (Pause.) In one more day they’ll let me out of here.
FAT MAN:: Do you hope to eat well once you’re out?
THIN MAN:: If I find a job.
FAT MAN:: If I find a job… If I find a job… (Pause.) It’s wrong to nurse too many illusions. It brings about catastrophe, what a bizarre word! You shouldn’t count your chickens…
THIN MAN: (Pensive.): Or my hens.
FAT MAN:: What does it matter! Chickens or hens, you’d still be in the… soup. (He laughs.)
THIN MAN:: But you can’t complain: money, food, massages… Women as well I suppose…
FAT MAN:: Wine, women and food! You’ll find it strange that I don’t say wine, women and song… But music isn’t edible. (Pause.) I bet, I bet you broke your leg trying to catch one of those little chickens…
THIN MAN:: It wasn’t a chicken, it was a hen.
FAT MAN:: Aha! So you like the older ladies… Well, each to his own I say. (Pause.) I’ll tell you what though: my friend Pedro just got married to an old woman of sixty. A sixty year old with a twenty-five year old. (Pause.) The other day he took her to the dentist. There were fisticuffs and everything.
THIN MAN:: I don’t follow you.
FAT MAN:: The dentist told my friend to take good care of his mother. Imagine saying that to a newlywed!
THIN MAN:: Everybody does what they can to get by. It’s really tough for me. Nobody gives me a thing.
FAT MAN:: And what caused that little outburst? I’m telling you the tale of the dentist and you start rattling on about something completely different.
THIN MAN:: I know what I’m saying… (Pause.) What is there for me when I leave this hospital?
FAT MAN:: Well if that’s all you’re worrying about, don’t: que sera sera… (Pause.) Anyway, this conversation’s very pleasant but lunch-time is drawing nigh. I have to ponder the menu. (Pause.) Could you do me a favour?
THIN MAN:: You’ve been asking the same thing for the last ten days. I do you a favour, I rack my brains putting different dishes together for you, and in the end it’s always your list that wins.
FAT MAN:: There’s an explanation for everything. You draw up various menus for me, so that by the time I sit down to eat, I’m absolutely ravenous.
THIN MAN: (Interrupting him.): But…
FAT MAN:: Please, may I finish? Yes? Thank you. (Pause.) Anyway, I’m saving your lists for another day. Don’t imagine that you have completely bad taste; although I shan’t forgive you your lapse over bacon with beef and potato stew.
THIN MAN: (He goes over to the Fat Man and puts his mouth right up to his ear.): Are you very hungry today?
FAT MAN:: Ravenous.
THIN MAN: (Looking discouraged.): It’s always the same. Never a day goes by when you don’t have an appetite. (Pause.) Are you going to ask for double portions?
FAT MAN:: What are you talking about? I am extremely well brought-up. I never have second helpings; if the Master could hear such a thing…
THIN MAN:: Who’s the Master?
FAT MAN:: A gourmand like no other; but a gourmand of refined tastes. Not me, I’ll eat anything. It’s a question of filling yourself up. Of course, there are limits: I never have seconds, I don’t eat tripe or trotters and I never refuse anything good if it’s offered to me. However, to compare myself to the Master…
THIN MAN:: I’ve thought of a menu.
FAT MAN: (Clearing his throat.): Let’s hear it.
THIN MAN: (Reflecting before speaking.): Fish soup…
FAT MAN:: Hmmm.
THIN MAN:: Don’t you like fish soup?
FAT MAN:: I haven’t said a word.
THIN MAN:: Well, fish soup, shredded beef, fried plantains, avocado salad, white rice, guava jelly and cream cheese.
FAT MAN: (With a grimace of disgust.): That is a menu so revolting that if the Master heard it he would die of shock. (Pause.) Fish soup followed by shredded beef indeed… (Pause.) Hunger will turn anyone mad.
THIN MAN:: Well I would eat it all without complaint.
FAT MAN:: If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a hundred times that when you draw up a menu you mustn’t be inspired by your own base instincts. You must be like a machine that reads my thoughts. (Pause.) Come on, try again.
THIN MAN: (Reflecting again.): I’d rather not go on. It’s not my lucky day to day. Anyway, it’s a waste of time. You’ll never accept one of my menus.
FAT MAN:: Come on, man! Don’t be discouraged. I promise that I’ll accept one of your menus. Onwards and upwards!
THIN MAN:: Beef and potato stew…
FAT MAN:: It’s an obsession. (Pause.) Still I won’t question it. Carry on! Beef and potato stew… What else?
THIN MAN: (Hysterical.): Beef and potato stew, beef and potato stew, stew, stew! (He bursts into tears.)
FAT MAN: (Shrugging his shoulders.): I’m completely at a loss. (Pause.) Fancy a dish as inoffensive as beef and potato stew making you burst into tears. Quite frankly I don’t understand it at all. (Pause; he pats him on the back.) Come on, cheer up! Continue… Onwards and upwards.; The Thin Man has fallen into a chair and covered his face with his hands. Just as the Fat Man is approaching the Thin Man making disapproving noises a hospital orderly enters with a pencil lodged behind his ear and a piece of paper in his hand.
ORDERLY: (Addressing himself to the Fat Man.): Good morning, sir. What would we like to eat today?
FAT MAN: (Opening his arms.): Beef and potato stew of course. What else could I eat? (Pause, he looks at the Thin Man, he makes noises of disapproval again.) Hold the beef and potato stew… No point converting a pleasant lunch into a lachrymose affair. It would be the first time that stew has been served with tears.
ORDERLY: (Confused.): What’s going on?
FAT MAN:: In reality nothing is going on, but people always contrive to act as though loads of things are going on.
ORDERLY:: So beef and potato stew…
FAT MAN: (Categorical.): No way. (He looks at the Thin Man.) He’s not feeling that well.
ORDERLY:: I could bring him some bicarbonate of soda.
FAT MAN: (In a pompous tone.): Bicarbonate of soda? What for? His stomach is made of iron. You should see him eat…
THIN MAN: (Lifts his head from his arms and looks sadly at the Fat Man.)
FAT MAN:: The look of a little lamb to the slaughter… (Pause.) Talking of which, I’d like a leg of lamb for lunch. (The Orderly gets ready to write it down, but the Fat Man interrupts him.) On second thoughts I’ll leave it till supper. (He ponders.) Let’s see, let’s see… What shall I ask for? (Long pause.) Got it – chicken and rice, brain fritters cucumber salad and crème caramel. (To the Thin Man.) Any objections?
THIN MAN: (He shakes his head; pause; to the Orderly.): It’s all the same to me.
ORDERLY: (Bursting out laughing.): Today we have boiled cabbage…
FAT MAN:: I can’t stand the sight of it! (To the Orderly.) Please, hold the cabbage. Bring him sweet potatoes.
THIN MAN:: But…
FAT MAN:: But me no buts… You question everything. What’s the difference if it’s cabbage or sweet potato?
THIN MAN:: For precisely that reason…
FAT MAN:: For precisely that reason and many others the world is like it is. (To the Orderly.) You heard: sweet potatoes! (The Orderly bows his head, sniggers scornfully and leaves.)
FAT MAN: (He takes the table and puts it centre-stage; he then takes a chair and places it so that the person sitting on it would be facing the audience; he places the other chair to the left of the first chair. To the Thin Man.): I suppose you will do me the honour of sitting at my table?
THIN MAN: (Thinking that the Fat Man is actually asking him to share his lunch.): Are you really inviting me to eat with you? (Pause.) I love brain fritters.
FAT MAN:: Not exactly. If I invite you to sit at my table it’s with an eye to enjoying some conversation during lunch. You will eat your food and I will eat mine.
THIN MAN:: I prefer to eat mine sitting on the bed.
FAT MAN:: If you decline my friendly invitation you will lose the chance to try the brain fritters.
THIN MAN:: You can stuff your fritters. (Pause.) I’m not in the mood for this today. And don’t talk to me, because I won’t answer. (He goes and sits on the edge of the bed).; The Orderly enters again; he goes over to the table and puts a tablecloth on it, followed by a napkin, cutlery, a saltcellar, a cruet stand with oil and vinegar, a beer, a glass and toothpicks. To the Fat Man:
ORDERLY:: There are no cucumbers. Would you like an avocado salad?
FAT MAN:: Anything. So long as it’s not cabbage.
THIN MAN:: Nice, ripe avocados…
FAT MAN:: Yes, thank you, thank you… enough of your tedious little jokes. (Pause.) There’s still time you know. I can’t believe that any civilized man would prefer to eat on his own in a corner. Eating is just the pretext, my friend. The true pleasure lies in conversation, in the exchange of ideas.
THIN MAN:: How many fritters will you give me if I sit at the table?
FAT MAN:: That’s called blackmail. It is one thing for me to extend to you the friendly offer of a little fritter of my own free will, and quite another for you to try to extort it from me.
THIN MAN:: Just one little fritter, nothing more than that?
FAT MAN:: Tasting something doesn’t mean gorging yourself on it. One fritter is more than enough to make you aware that you are swallowing a foodstuff called brains.
THIN MAN:: Of course, one rule for you and another one for me: I taste one little fritter and you stuff your face with dozens of them.
FAT MAN:: You should never try to square the circle. It’s important not to lose sight of reality. I pay for the little fritters; I stuff… my face, good God! What a bizarre expression! With the little fritters. I eat, you taste. (Pause.) The monarchs of old always used to employ someone to taste their food. There was the food-taster, the wine-taster, the sommelier...
THIN MAN:: Well, if you don’t want to give me the fritters, then give me half the chicken.
FAT MAN:: You must be joking! You on your side and me on mine; and, don’t humiliate yourself later: “Give me a fritter, even just a quarter of a fritter”. At least have the courage of your convictions.; The Orderly enters carrying a tray upon which there is a casserole of chicken and rice, a dish of fritters, the avocado salad and the crème caramel as well as a small basket of bread. He starts to put everything on the table. As though obeying an irresistible impulse the Thin Man draws closer to the table.
FAT MAN:: What did I tell you! I know my people. (To the Thin Man.) A very agreeable ensemble wouldn’t you say? (To the Orderly) Bring this gentleman’s order straightaway.
ORDERLY: (Smiling.): Well, there’s no soup.
FAT MAN:: Magnificent! There’s no soup. (To the Thin Man.) Did you get that?
ORDERLY:: And there’s no sweet potato.
FAT MAN:: Fantastic! There’s no sweet potato. (To the Thin Man) Did you get that?
THIN MAN:: Then bring the cabbage.
FAT MAN:: Cabbage…? Did you say cabbage?
THIN MAN:: Cabbage.
ORDERLY: (Looking at the Fat Man; Pause.): What shall I do?
FAT MAN:: Serve it to him. He’s within his rights. (Pause.) Who would credit it!; The Orderly leaves. The Thin Man goes back to sit on the bed; the Fat Man sits at the table but he doesn’t start eating. He rattles the cutlery. Long pause.
FAT MAN: (He stops rattling the cutlery; he sniffs the chicken and rice.): That really hits the spot… (To the Thin Man) Is the delicious aroma wafting over as far as your bed?; The Thin Man lies down on the bed with his face to the wall and covers his head with the pillow.
FAT MAN:: All roads lead to a Roma…, and all smells creep inside your nostrils even if you put a pillow over your head. (Pause.) Come on, my little poppet, light of my life! When lovers truly care for each other, summer storms such as these only serve to strengthen their everlasting devotion.; The Orderly enters with the Thin Man’s food. When he sees the Thin Man on the bed he looks disconcerted. He looks at the Fat Man; the Fat Man shakes his head. With his free hand the Orderly gestures to the Fat Man asking him where he should put the Thin Man’s food. The Fat Man indicates that he should put it at the foot of the bed; the Orderly does this and starts to retreat on tiptoe.
FAT MAN:: No need for that. He’s more awake than we are. He’s only playing dead to see how many people come to his funeral… (Pause.) You can go.; The Orderly leaves
FAT MAN:: So, we shall lunch alone then. (Pause.) Beforehand, and so that my gentlemanly conscience remains clear, we shall address one final appeal to the Knight of the Mournful Countenance… (He gets up and goes over to the Thin Man’s bed.) For one last time I ask you to accompany me in the sacramental act of lunch. (Pause; the Thin Man doesn’t move.) Oh well, you’re the loser; you’re behaving like a spoilt child. Your conduct is inexcusable. (He goes back to the table, sits down and takes hold of the napkin which he ties around his neck; he picks up the cutlery and serves himself with chicken and rice from the casserole; he pours himself a beer and rubs his hands but he doesn’t start to eat. Long pause. He places the dish of fritters slightly to the left; he changes the position of the basket of bread and separates the vinegar bottle from the bottle of oil, in short, he makes a series of movements that express his unease.) Ready to board! (Pause; he looks over to the bed.) Something seems to be missing, however.
THIN MAN: (He takes the pillow away and lies face up.): I’m what’s missing, but don’t count on me. I’m going to eat this muck and then I’m going to have a siesta.
FAT MAN: (Breathing heavily.): That’s certainly an excellent idea. There’s nothing like a siesta after a heavy lunch. (Pause.) I shall do the same. (Pause.) Would you be so kind as to let me taste your cornmeal? It looks absolutely heavenly.
THIN MAN: (Suspicious.): But you hate cornmeal!
FAT MAN:: It’s true, I hate it, but from time to time it takes my fancy. (Pause.) Oh, what the hell! You only live once… Give what ever name you want to this craving of mine; call it a craving of pregnancy if you like.
THIN MAN:: Well, if you’ve taken a fancy to my cornmeal you can have it, but I also have a craving for brain fritters.
FAT MAN:: That’s fair enough, and you shall certainly have a taste. (He cuts off a tiny piece of fritter, spears it with his fork and carries it over to the bed.) There you are. Now you can’t say that I don’t keep my word.

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