Richard

Solo The Raven himself is hoarse, that croaks the entrance of Duncan. Come you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts and fill me from the crown to the top-full of direst cruelty! Make thick my blood; stop up the access and passage to remorse, that no compunctious visitings of nature, shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between the effect and it! Wherever in your sightless substances you wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night, and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! That my keen knife sees not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, to cry “Hold, Hold!”

Scene 1: Enter Lady M. acing calm and collected. She should look like she is in complete control. Well, this is good. Laugh I can’t say that I’ve ever had the honour of being called an “honoured host” before. Sigh But, sadly, Duncan’s flattery won’t get him very far. Pause He is too powerful… We need to take care of him in order for MacBeth to become the CEO… But he won’t do it; he’s too much of a pussy… I know… She pulls out a phone and proceeds to dial. Ahh, James, darling, how are you? … Oh that’s good. Now, listen, I was thinking… How would you like to be the CEO? … OH, I know that windbag Duncan is still in the head chair, but that’s easily taken care of. … What do you mean, “what do you mean”? I mean you’ll kill him! Just drive a knife through his heart, or ace, or something like that! … Well, he’s going to die soon anyway; I mean he’s practically a fucking fossil! His arms fall off every time he tries to do his paperwork! Beat You’d be doing him a favour. Euthanasia is the legal way of putting it. … Beat Oh come on! Grow some balls you sissy! … Beat That’s more like it. I mean, it was what we both want after all. … Of course it’s what you want! Now, don’t worry your pretty little head about it any more, let me take care of it. Now, we’re meeting up with the Capulet’s for tea tonight, so don’t be late. Kisses. Bye. Hangs up with a dark grin on her face. Hook line and sinker. It was almost too easy. Puase. Beat I’d better fix the dinner…

Scene 2: Enter Lady M. wearing a bath robe, clutching a cup of coffee and/or smoking a cigarette/s. She will laugh manically at random intervals Nervously giggling No, no, no… no. No! NO! It wasn’t meant to work out this way! He was meant to die, we were meant to win, and the angels were meant to play our fucking song! Falls to the ground giggling hysterically. But no, it didn’t work out like that. Oh, no! We killed him! I know we killed him, because he’s dead in our living room underneath the coffee table! Laughs His blood is smeared all over those two morons who came with him! So I know that he is dead! But James isn’t meant to have a conscience! No! And because he does, I haven’t slept in days! Inhales from the cigarette. Beat. It’s hard enough trying to appear calm, happy, and like everything is all good without having to do it on two seconds of sleep a night! And then he started blathering about some ghost! Stands up giggling. “It’s okay, he’s just a little overcome by the stress bought on by Duncan’s sudden and highly unexpected death. He’s lost a little sleep, but he’ll be fine once he’s had time to recover.” The amount of times I had to say that! Beat. Right, I’ll try one more time to get to sleep.

Scene 3: Enter Lady M. wearing a robe that covers less than the last, her hair slightly more “out there” and looking more stressed than last time. She should also be scratching at her hands with some bizarre implement. E.g. steel wool, chopsticks, forks, etc. Screams Will these hands never be clean? She stops completely looking shocked That’s what I said when I was sleep walking… She shakes her head and continues, just as pissed off. Continues scratching. Arrggh! Why do I give a shit about what that old witch has to say? Beat, pause I wonder what it means… Could it be that I’m regretting killing Duncan and the McDuffs? Pause If I am, then how will that affect the rest of my life? Pause How will it affect James? She falls to her knees and starts to cry

Scene 4: Enter Lady M. wearing proper clothing, looking slightly more refreshed. She should be holding a book and pen. I’ve decided that I shall start keeping a diary. So, I started yesterday. Now, where hall I start? Pause. When I was little, say 9 or 10, my mother said that I was pure evil, and that I’d more than likely wind up in hell. Well, mother, I guess I owe you $5, ‘cause guess where I am. That’s right, the underworld. I guess I deserve it… I did convince an innocent man to kill off his boss, and an entire family for the soul purpose of achieving power in a system that honestly doesn’t matter in the long run. But none of that matter now. What does matter, however, is that I have found myself a new pet case. Hitler. He’s been down here doing nothing but play chess and scrabble against the Beta Mussolini. So, I decided: “Why not try and have a little fn, and overthrow Satan?”