Hugo in London

by Marina J. Neary

Scene 2

Enter Kip, dressed as a pirate, with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, with Ingrid and Brigit on his arms.

KIP: Blimey! What’s all this merriment?

JOCELYN (steps towards Kip and stretches her hand flirtatiously, while Ingrid and Brigit lower their eyes and back off timidly): Hello, Edmund.

KIP (kisses her hand): Gentlemen, I’ve come to rescue my fiancée from your company.

JOCELYN: There’s no need for such swashbuckling heroism. The two gentlemen were about to cut each other’s throats. (To Hugo): Victor, meet my fiancé, Mr. Barrymore, a former attorney. He joined me on my pilgrimage to humility and enlightenment.

KIP (raises the bottle): Capt’n Kip at your service! Welcome to England, Mr. Hugo.

He locks his arm around Hugo’s neck, nearly strangling him, finally releases him.

HUGO (coughs aside and rubs his throat): Now that’s English hospitality!

BARCLAY: Mr. Barrymore likes to reinforce his words by physical contact. Once he gave me four punches in the jaw, ten slaps on the back and six shoves in the chest.

KIP (to Hugo): So, how do you find our Bohemian temple?

HUGO: Simply charming! How did this all start?

KIP: Jocelyn told me a heart-wrenching story. As a child, she was forbidden to go to the circus. Her wicked mother dragged her to see Shakespeare. So I gave Jocelyn a real circus, with ponies and clowns. Only the best for my little duchess!

BARCLAY: I’ve always thought that you should adopt Jocelyn instead of marrying her. Your love is more paternal than spousal.

KIP: I use the arena for boxing matches, something my father condemned. He made me go to church instead. At last, Jocelyn and I can indulge our childhood fantasies, without tyrannical parents to ruin our merriment.

JOCELYN: We must go, Edmund. I have yet so many things to show Victor.

KIP: You can’t leave. I have eight boys from the Parliament coming. We expect a major bloodbath followed by a hellish comedy skit from my dearest chum Wynfield.

JOCELYN: You have a new dearest chum every week! Who is Wynfield?

BARCLAY: Freak of the Week, a handsome boy who made someone very angry.

JOCELYN (timidly): Exactly how angry?

BARCLAY: Enough to slash his face with a knife and shatter his jaw.

JOCELYN: Thank you, Reverend. This image is precisely what I needed before dinner.

BARCLAY (nonchalantly): The story is quite amusing — for those who aren’t weak of stomach. Wynfield began his life in a street gang but then had a falling out with the leader. The old thief didn’t have the heart to kill his pupil, so he slashed him up. That was the end of Wynfield’s criminal career — too many distinctive traits.

JOCELYN: Ah, for Heaven’s sake...

BARCLAY (lifts his finger): The resilient child turned his trauma into a theatrical act and became the symbol of English comedy. (To Ingrid and Brigit): Isn’t that so, ladies?

INGRID (regretfully): They don’t have such wicked clowns in Sweden.

BRIGIT: Nor in Ireland! All the merry ones died during the famine. All that’s left is a flock of ogres.

INGRID: All the circus girls are in love with Wynfield. They dream of kissing him by the docks when the lights grow dim. He could have a different one each week.

BRIGIT (hopelessly): But he’ll never leave Diana.

INGRID (resentfully): That sickly witch with wolfish eyes.

BRIGIT: Everybody hates her.

INGRID: Except for Wyn. He’s loved her since they were children.

BRIGIT: They are two halves of the Iron Maiden. When she dies — he’ll follow.

INGRID: That will be the end of English comedy.

JOCELYN: It’s awfully fascinating, but Victor and I are in a hurry.

KIP: You can’t leave without seeing Wynfield’s performance.

JOCELYN: Amateur comedy nights are on Thursdays. Today is Wednesday.

KIP: I can’t let an actor of his magnitude perform with the rest of the amateurs. He’ll overshadow them, and they’ll hate him. The poor fellow doesn’t need more enemies. Look at his jaw! It’s a miracle his entire head wasn’t ripped off.

JOCELYN: Can we discuss his injuries at a more opportune time? I’m indisposed.

KIP (hand on his heart): But then our bohemian protégés will feel abandoned. And do you even know who wrote Wynfield’s play? Dr. Grant himself!

JOCELYN: That madman who calls himself the Famished Bear?

KIP: I can’t afford to insult him. He patches up my boys after boxing matches, and he has a history of maiming his patients out of spite. Last time I had to give him two of my tightrope dancers as an apology present. You know what happens when a bear grows old. He needs young flesh next to his. So I had to part with these two beauties. (Throws a mournful glance at Ingrid and Brigit; they blow kisses and wave)

JOCELYN: It’s common circus politics to exchange humans for services. Besides, you said that the girls did nothing but weave intrigues. You were relieved to be rid of them.

KIP: But then I heard about the old man’s atrocities. He makes the girls dress up like goddesses and dance to the sounds of his flute!

JOCELYN: I can imagine worse things.

KIP: Have you heard Dr. Grant’s solos? Better plug your ears! I’ve heard some horrid music in my life, but nothing compares to that.

To be continued...

to Challenge 405...