The Tragedy of Two Bills
William, a boy
Billiam, a boy
Six attack dogs (more optional)
Springtime. William and Billiam play stickball in a small, fenced-in yard, with William pitching and Billiam at bat. The fence is about as tall as a very tall adult, and it is completely fire-engine red, except for the white rectangular “strike zone” that looks not unlike what might be painted on a basketball backboard. This “strike zone” is on the portion of the fence just behind Billiam. This fence is lined with young and newly blooming dandelions. The air is calm. William delivers a pitch, and Billiam swings and misses. It is a big miss.
(Pumps his fist.) That’s right, snatch!
(Picks the ball up, but doesn’t throw it back.) What did you say?
Did you just call me snatch?
Yes. (Pause.) Face on you. (Palms face.)
Oh. (Deflated.) Got me.
Enter attack dogs who crash down the fence. One attack dog is saddled on another, riding it fiercely like a bucking bronco. Two others maul William and Billiam. The rest fight for the ball. The attack dog being ridden like a bronco has a gold chain that slaps wildly around its neck as it tries to buck its rider. Attached to the chain are big diamond-studded letters that, when seen clearly, say, “Play on, player.” The diamonds sparkle.
Carnage continues awhile.
When there is some certainty of the boys’ death, there is an unusually long pause, and just before the moment of it becoming unbearably silent, a young dandelion decides then to bloom. It is something of a rare thing to see.