Midnight in the Office of Good and Evil
A Play in One Act (actually less) for two characters
by
David H. Neal
Scene: The Oval Office, shortly before midnight on Jan 19, 2001. The President’s desk holds an In basket with a large stack of papers in it and an Out basket with a much shorter stack. A silver cigar humidor and a table cigarette lighter also rest on the desk.
Characters: Bill Clinton, President of the United States
John Podesta, White House Chief of Staff
Bill Clinton, dressed in shorts, running shoes and tee shirt, is seated at the desk. He takes papers from the In basket, signs them and tosses them into the Out basket.
CLINTON: Whewee! These pardons are taking longer than I thought they would. I should be at a party somewhere instead of doing this! Hey, what’s this? A pardon for Marc Rich? Boy, they’re really pushing the envelope with him. I need a break to think about this one.
Clinton stands up from the desk and stretches and yawns. He takes a cigar from the humidor and lights it. Then he strolls about the office, admiring the furnishings and art. He stands on the Presidential Seal on the carpet and stares at it.
CLINTON: The Bush kid says he’s going to toss my beautiful royal blue carpet just because he doesn’t like the color. I’ll bet his favorite color is beige. How could a rational person do that? No other carpet could be as pretty. He seems to be fairly friendly but he’s still a bit of a snob. He might be willing to snort a line with me but he’d never join me in a stogie. He’d be afraid of taking the edges off his precious washboard abs. His lats are so well developed that he looks like a gorilla when he walks, his arms all stuck out flapping in the breeze. But he might make a good president if he spends as much time working as he does working out.
Podesta, dressed in a business suit, enters.
PODESTA: Still at it, Mr. President? Here it is nearly midnight on your last day.
CLINTON: Ah, the work never ends, John. I’ve got more pardons to sign than a dog has fleas.
Podesta looks around the office.
PODESTA: Well, eight years is about up. Some pretty exciting times. We did a lot of good in here, Mr. President.
CLINTON: That we did, John. A lot of Americans are better off today because of what we did here. We had a few screwups but by and large I think we leave this place better than we found it.
PODESTA: No question about it. You’ll really miss this place. How will you keep busy now?
CLINTON: Oh, the usual stuff, just like Reagan and Bush. I’ll make speeches and raise money and maybe write some books. I’ll have to do something to make money. I’ve got a Senator to support now.
Both laugh.
PODESTA: What do you think you’ll miss most? Your royal blue carpet or the power or just being here?
CLINTON: You know, John, I think I’ll miss the limelight more than anything else. I’ve gotten so used to being in the spotlight that I’m liable to feel naked without it.
PODESTA: I don’t see that as a problem. You’re the Elvis of politics. People will still be sighting you twenty years after you’re dead. Well, you’ve got the limelight sewed up for a few days at least. Your farewell speech at Andrews is longer than Bush’s Inaugural speech, and there’s all that stuff the first lady loaded into the moving van, not to mention that office in the Carnegie Tower.
Both laugh.
CLINTON: Yeah, but that’s just good for a little while. We’ll send back all that furniture as soon as the press notices it, and my speech at Andrews will be soon forgotten. I’ll give up the Manhatten office and bid on one in Harlem. That should be good for a few points. But all that stuff will soon pass. I need something that will hold the public’s attention for a long time, like maybe months.
PODESTA: Sorry, I can’t think of anything that might keep the press focused on you for that long. Are you seeing any interesting pardons come across?
CLINTON: You know, John, I never heard of half the people in that stack. One I noticed, though, was Marc Rich.
PODESTA: Marc Rich? How can you pardon Marc Rich? He’s a fugitive and a traitor and all sorts of other bad things. To coin a phrase, he’s a major league asshole.
CLINTON: Big time!
Both laugh.
CLINTON: Denise has given a lot of money to the party and my library, though, and the Jews seem to think he’s worth a pardon.
PODESTA: The press will jump all over you if you pardon him. The Republicans will probably try to impeach you again. Somebody will holler quid pro quo, considering all that money that Denise put out.
Clinton makes a humping motion with his hips.
CLINTON: Maybe I can give Denise some other sort of quid for her quo.
Both laugh.
PODESTA: Well, I better let you get back to work, Mr. President. It’s not long to the Bush kid’s Inaugural. You be careful with that Rich pardon. The public will raise hell if you do that. Sorry I can’t think of some way to keep you in the spotlight. Good night!
CLINTON: I’ll think of something. Have a good evening, John.
Podesta exits.
Clinton returns to reviewing the office and staring at the Presidential Seal on the carpet while alternately sucking on the cigar and rolling it in his fingers. Suddenly he smiles and makes a motion with his fist as if he were pulling a lever.
CLINTON: Kaching!
Clinton returns to the desk where he signs a paper and tosses it into the Out basket.
CLINTON: Enjoy your pardon, Marc, you worthless son of a bitch!
Curtain
by
David H. Neal
Scene: The Oval Office, shortly before midnight on Jan 19, 2001. The President’s desk holds an In basket with a large stack of papers in it and an Out basket with a much shorter stack. A silver cigar humidor and a table cigarette lighter also rest on the desk.
Characters: Bill Clinton, President of the United States
John Podesta, White House Chief of Staff
Bill Clinton, dressed in shorts, running shoes and tee shirt, is seated at the desk. He takes papers from the In basket, signs them and tosses them into the Out basket.
CLINTON: Whewee! These pardons are taking longer than I thought they would. I should be at a party somewhere instead of doing this! Hey, what’s this? A pardon for Marc Rich? Boy, they’re really pushing the envelope with him. I need a break to think about this one.
Clinton stands up from the desk and stretches and yawns. He takes a cigar from the humidor and lights it. Then he strolls about the office, admiring the furnishings and art. He stands on the Presidential Seal on the carpet and stares at it.
CLINTON: The Bush kid says he’s going to toss my beautiful royal blue carpet just because he doesn’t like the color. I’ll bet his favorite color is beige. How could a rational person do that? No other carpet could be as pretty. He seems to be fairly friendly but he’s still a bit of a snob. He might be willing to snort a line with me but he’d never join me in a stogie. He’d be afraid of taking the edges off his precious washboard abs. His lats are so well developed that he looks like a gorilla when he walks, his arms all stuck out flapping in the breeze. But he might make a good president if he spends as much time working as he does working out.
Podesta, dressed in a business suit, enters.
PODESTA: Still at it, Mr. President? Here it is nearly midnight on your last day.
CLINTON: Ah, the work never ends, John. I’ve got more pardons to sign than a dog has fleas.
Podesta looks around the office.
PODESTA: Well, eight years is about up. Some pretty exciting times. We did a lot of good in here, Mr. President.
CLINTON: That we did, John. A lot of Americans are better off today because of what we did here. We had a few screwups but by and large I think we leave this place better than we found it.
PODESTA: No question about it. You’ll really miss this place. How will you keep busy now?
CLINTON: Oh, the usual stuff, just like Reagan and Bush. I’ll make speeches and raise money and maybe write some books. I’ll have to do something to make money. I’ve got a Senator to support now.
Both laugh.
PODESTA: What do you think you’ll miss most? Your royal blue carpet or the power or just being here?
CLINTON: You know, John, I think I’ll miss the limelight more than anything else. I’ve gotten so used to being in the spotlight that I’m liable to feel naked without it.
PODESTA: I don’t see that as a problem. You’re the Elvis of politics. People will still be sighting you twenty years after you’re dead. Well, you’ve got the limelight sewed up for a few days at least. Your farewell speech at Andrews is longer than Bush’s Inaugural speech, and there’s all that stuff the first lady loaded into the moving van, not to mention that office in the Carnegie Tower.
Both laugh.
CLINTON: Yeah, but that’s just good for a little while. We’ll send back all that furniture as soon as the press notices it, and my speech at Andrews will be soon forgotten. I’ll give up the Manhatten office and bid on one in Harlem. That should be good for a few points. But all that stuff will soon pass. I need something that will hold the public’s attention for a long time, like maybe months.
PODESTA: Sorry, I can’t think of anything that might keep the press focused on you for that long. Are you seeing any interesting pardons come across?
CLINTON: You know, John, I never heard of half the people in that stack. One I noticed, though, was Marc Rich.
PODESTA: Marc Rich? How can you pardon Marc Rich? He’s a fugitive and a traitor and all sorts of other bad things. To coin a phrase, he’s a major league asshole.
CLINTON: Big time!
Both laugh.
CLINTON: Denise has given a lot of money to the party and my library, though, and the Jews seem to think he’s worth a pardon.
PODESTA: The press will jump all over you if you pardon him. The Republicans will probably try to impeach you again. Somebody will holler quid pro quo, considering all that money that Denise put out.
Clinton makes a humping motion with his hips.
CLINTON: Maybe I can give Denise some other sort of quid for her quo.
Both laugh.
PODESTA: Well, I better let you get back to work, Mr. President. It’s not long to the Bush kid’s Inaugural. You be careful with that Rich pardon. The public will raise hell if you do that. Sorry I can’t think of some way to keep you in the spotlight. Good night!
CLINTON: I’ll think of something. Have a good evening, John.
Podesta exits.
Clinton returns to reviewing the office and staring at the Presidential Seal on the carpet while alternately sucking on the cigar and rolling it in his fingers. Suddenly he smiles and makes a motion with his fist as if he were pulling a lever.
CLINTON: Kaching!
Clinton returns to the desk where he signs a paper and tosses it into the Out basket.
CLINTON: Enjoy your pardon, Marc, you worthless son of a bitch!
Curtain
posted by David H. Neal at 8:12 PM
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