They shoot horses, don’t they?

 

Horse Plays

(a dramatic fragment)

2 Kurt Schwitters

1. Horse

2. Yes?

1. You’re under arrest, Horse.

2. No.

1. I shall shoot, Horse.

2. No.

1. I shall shoot, Horse.

2. No.

1. I hate you.

2. No.

1. I shall murder you.

2. Not so.

1. I shall poison you.

2. Not so.

1. I shall salami you.

2. Not so.

1. I shall crucify you.

2. Not so.

1. Think of your parents.

2. Never.

1. I am going to kill you.

2. As I said, never.

1. I shall shoot.

2. You have already said that once.

1. Now come along.

2. You can’t arrest me.

1. Why not?

2. You can take me into custody, but no more.

1. Than I shall take you into custody.

2. By all means.

1. By all means.

2. Horse?

1. Yes.

2. I’m sorry.

1. Yes.

2. Horse?

1. Yes.

2. I’m sorry.

1. I’m sorry, Horse.

The door opens slightly and a head of woman enters the bedroom.  ‘I’ve already made your breakfast, Horse. Go up and hurry. Father and medical students will be here in twenty minutes.’

The door is closed. 

After the head disappears onto the stairs, a naked young man in his thirties rubs his hazel sleepy eyes and dismounts orderly from a hobby painted dark horse; he grabs his daily ordinary cloths, opens the creaky yellow door and with quixotic beady eyes he puts himself together and makes his trot into the dining room and then into the sun and lightness).  

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