Death of a Sailsman
Act One
“Ahem,” Antony LaMount cleared his throat. “I think we all know why we’re here.”
The other kids in the school’s theatre looked around at one another. Kahr-ret-Taris shrugged his massive shoulders, Aloise shook her head slightly, Beryl just frowned slightly, and Gale rolled her eyes. Tryst did not seem to be paying attention. When nobody answered, Antony sighed.
“We are casting for my newest masterpiece, this year’s theatrical extravaganza, which, as part of my senior project, I will be directing, adapting, and starring in.”
The others looked at one another again. They got the feeling that they would be doing that a lot today.
“And what if we don’t want to be in the play?” Kahr asked.
Antony laughed. Hard. “You’re an even better actor than I thought! Honestly, Kahr, I never thought you could do convincing comedy. To not want to act in one of my productions! Hilarious.” Then Antony turned suddenly serious. “But this is a dramatic piece, so no more of that, please.”
“Well, I’m in,” Aloise said. “Beryl?”
“I…I guess. If I can have a small role…”
“You may have all the small roles, if you wish,” Antony said. “Gale, are you in?”
Gale shrugged. “Maybe. I like singing. Is it a musical?”
Antony shook his head. “No, not a musical, but there is a part near the end of act one where your character sings.”
Gale thought about it. “Good enough, I guess. Alright, I’ll do it.” Something occurred to her then. “But hey, what do you mean, my character? I thought the point was casting for parts today?”
“I’ve simplified the process,” Antony said. “I’ve already cast the three main characters. They will be played by you, by Kahr, and of course, by yours truly.”
Aloise grinned. “Oh, this’ll be fun! So, what play are we doing?”
“We will be delivering the definitive rendition of Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. I, of course, will be playing Willy Loman. You, Gale, shall be my wife, and…”
“I don’t care about salesmen,” Gale said. “I can’t see me married to one.”
“It’s acting, Gale,” Antony said. “Just pretend.”
“No, I don’t think I can do that,” Gale said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Well, that poses a significant problem, don’t you think?”
Gale shrugged. “Not really. I just don’t do it. Problem solved.”
Antony groaned. “Alright, well, what do you care about, then?”
“The sea, and the wind, and the rain. A sturdy ship beneath me and a storm-kissed sky above. The waves rocking against the hull, and the sails vibrating in the breeze.”
Antony stroked his chin for a minute, then nodded. “Alright, alright. Willy’s a sailor now. We’ll just call it Death of a Sailsman, with an ‘i.’ Does that work?”
“I guess.”
“Good, good, progress! Now, Kahr, you’ll be playing Willy Loman’s son, Biff, who…”
“Buff,” Kahr said bluntly.
“Excuse me?”
“His name should be Buff.” Kahr removed his shirt and flexed. “To play to my strengths.”
“Look, yes, Biff is an athletic man, but he does not go around with his shirt off flexing all day. We can’t just…”
“Well, he should,” Kahr said, shifting poses.
“I agree,” Tryst said, watching Kahr.
“Ugh,” Antony said. “Fine! Alright, ‘Buff’ Loman, instead of having a chronic need to steal, apparently has a chronic need to be shirtless!”
“Works for me,” Kahr said.
“Me, too,” Tryst agreed, licking her lips.
“Same here, actually,” Gale said.
“Alright,” Antony said. “So we just need somebody to play Willy and Linda’s other…”
“Winda,” Gale corrected.
“What?”
“I like the sound of ‘Winda’ better, because it has ‘wind’ in it. If we’re already changing Buff’s name, we might as well change this one, too.”
“Unbelievable,” Antony said, shaking his head. “Okay, fine. Willy and ‘Winda,’ have two children, ‘Buff’ and Happy. So, who wants to be Happy?”
“Oh, I like being happy!” Aloise said, raising her arm enthusiastically.
“Well, Happy is not really happy,” Antony cautioned.
“Umm, huh?” Aloise asked. “Well, is Willy Willy?”
“Of course.”
“And Buff is Buff?”
“Very,” Kahr said, switching to another pose.
Antony groaned. “Yes, ‘Buff’ is ‘Buff.’”
“And Winda is Winda?”
“Well, Linda is Winda, now. Apparently.”
Aloise scratched her head. “So why isn’t Happy Happy?”
“Happy is Happy, he just isn’t happy,” Antony said.
“This play makes no sense,” Beryl said.
“Well, not anymore,” Antony agreed. When he noticed the others looking at him quizzically, he just shook his head. “Never mind. Look, Happy is an inveterate womanizer who is virtually incapable of telling the truth.”
“Oh, in that case, I know who should play him,” Gale said, shooting a glance over at the corner, where the Liar was lurking.
When the other kids looked over at him, he shrugged. “I could,” he said, “but I’m afraid I have another engagement that day.”
“You don’t even know what day the performance is!” Antony yelled.
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t!”
“Yes, I do.”
“Alright, then when is it?”
“Ha!” The Liar said. “You’re not going to get out of admitting that you don’t know that easily! I’m on to you.”
“Uh-huh,” Antony said. “Alright, look, Aloise, you can be Happy, and Beryl, you can play Miss Forsythe, who Happy tries to pick up in the second act. It’s a small part, and don’t worry, she’s described as hot.”
Beryl burst into flames.
“Which is disturbingly appropriate,” Antony added as Aloise worked to extinguish her girlfriend.
“So anyway, what is this thing about?” Gale asked.
“It’s about one poor tortured soul, Willy, and his struggle with success, failure, and the trappings of the American Dream.”
Everyone else looked at him blankly.
“Um, what?”
“What does ‘American’ mean?” Kahr asked.
“It means ‘from America,’ what do you think it means?” Antony replied.
“What’s ‘America?’” Aloise asked as she finished putting out the last of Beryl’s flames.
“What is the matter with you people? America is a country! Don’t you know…”
“Yeah, we know,” Gale said, “but are we, you know, supposed to know?”
“Huh?”
Gale shrugged. “I mean, where is this high school, anyway? Does it take place in America, or some other country, or a random plane in the Multiverse, or just some random location somewhere?”
“She brings up a good point,” Aloise said. “I mean, we’re not supposed to know anything about ‘America’ or other places like that, are we?”
Antony scratched his head. “So, you’re saying that it’s alright to know who Arthur Miller was, but not what the American Dream is?”
“Well, just answer this,” Gale said. “Does this take place in America?”
Antony nodded. “Yes. It takes place in Brooklyn, in the Loman’s house, and…”
“No,” Gale interrupted, “not the play. This whole high school thing. Are we in America right now? Because that would tell us whether or not we could use the American Dream thing.”
“Well, I have no idea!”
“Alright, then,” Gale said. “Who does know?”
“I do,” the Liar said.
“No, you don’t!” Antony yelled.
“Then who?” Gale pressed.
“I don’t know. Ask Raven!”
“That’s a good idea,” Aloise said, pointing between herself and Beryl. “We’ll go do that. Hold on, we’ll be right back.”
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