Having my way with Ulysses

The happy demise of all unhappy marriages.

Certaine Lordes came downe into thẽ nether houſe, and expreſſely declared cauſes, The marriage betwixt the King and the Lady Anne of Cleue, adiuged vnlawfull. for the which, the mariage was not to be taken lawfull: and in concluſion, the matter was by the conocation cleerely determined, that the King might lawfully marrie where he would, and ſo mighte ſhe. And thus were they clearely diuorſed, and by the Parliament it was enacted, that ſhee ſhoulde bee taken no more for Q. but called the Ladye Anne of Cleue10:10 pm

Scene: [In the house that Jack built, you know the one, where comes the fire that burns up the staff, that beat up the dog, that bit the cat, that ate up the goat — the one my father bought for two zuzim, in the house that Jack built.  In the house that Jack built (Conference Room C, Holy Mother Public Relations Inc.) Eve, Mary, Peter Piscator, Joseph the Joiner, and William Haley celebrate the sudden – at – the – moment – though – from – lingering – illness –  often – previously – expectorated – divorce of Adam and Eve.]

William Haley:  [Filling cups, some decline but Mary is front and center.  No surprise there.] Friends, let us raise a glass to this occasion of Eve and Adam’s postcreation.  Here’s to Eve who is like a flame of many colors of precious jewels, to Adam

Eve: Do we have to toast to Adam?

William Haley: To the vicar of Rome and of Bray, and to all our deceased friends who are more really with us than when they were apparent to our mortal part.  And to

Mary: [Thirstily] Here here!

[All quaff from their mazers]

St Bernard:  The cake is delicious, Peter, did you make it yourself?

Peter Piscator:  No. No, no.  I got it for a song.  Just a penny pippin.

Joseph the Joiner:  Really?  It looks like it would have set you back at least $50.  Although I find it a bit subsubstantial.

Mary:  I find you a bit subsubstantial.

William Haley:  None of that Mary.  Tonight is for Eve’s happiness, which has wings and wheels.  Miseries are leaden legged and their whole employment is to clip the wings and to take off the wheels of our chariots.

Eve:  That’s beautiful, William.  Did you just come up with that now?

Peter Piscator:  No, no.  No.  That sounds like he stole it from what’s his name, that devoted rebel. You know, the enthusiastic hope-fostered visionary.

William Haley:  You are quite wrong sir, and you injure me in your so saying.  But I shall ignore you.  A blight never does good to a tree and if a blight kill not a tree but it still bear fruit let none say that the fruit was in consequence of the blight.

Mary:  Jeepers Chrysthanthemum.  Somebody cut that cake, will you.  Let’s get this party going.

Joseph the Joiner:  Let’s not Mary.  Last time you ended up in bed with a pigeon.

Mary:  That was a rumor started by Leo Taxil.  Please.  What’s it to you if I knew God or I didn’t know God or if I had a pregnancy without joy, a birth without pain, a body without blemish, a belly without bigness.  You want to know if I still have a hymen?  Come and look!

Joseph: With will will we withstand withsay.

Mary:  Oh for the love of Christmas somebody hand over the cake.

William Haley:  For as man liveth not by bread alone, Mary, I shall live although I should want bread.  Who is that hiding under that table?

St. Bernard:  Mary! Mary!  You are the mother of the word incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me

Mary:  St. Bernard.  He’s become the creature of my creature.

Eve:  Creepy.  Let’s get rid of him.

William Haley:  We can’t get rid of him.  Time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions.  He like us all is the word made flesh.  Get rid of the flesh and he’ll become word for all eternity connected to us all as by navelcord to navelcord entwining back to Eve.

Mary:  Well now I don’t want cake anymore.

Eve:  Who invited that guy?

What the Great Saint Bernard Said

Filled, therefore, with confidence in thy goodness, I fly to thee, O Mother, Virgin of Virgins: to thee I come, before thee I fly a sorrowful sinner.8:29 pm

[Scene:  The Star and Garter Ballroom, Empyrean Building, Holy Mother Public Relations. Mary is irritated, a little drunk, and bathed gloriously in a radiant cloud of flies.  Martha stands defeated with a fly swatter and a can of bug spray.  Miss Bee Honeysuckle nervously buzzes just out of Martha’s reach.]

Mary:  Where the hell is he?

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  He’s be here soon your virgin worshipfulness, we left at the same time but he had to go back to, well, to compose himself a little.

Mary:  Martha get him on the damn phone.  Compose himself?  I’ll decompose him myself if he doesn’t show up now.

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  You know how he is, your heavenly motheringness, he doesn’t like crowds.

Mary:  What crowds?  There’s no crowds.  Show me crowds!  Who will come here with all these damn flies.  Martha!

Martha:  I can’t swat them all, Mary, there must be millions of them.  Oh Christ! There’s one on your eye.

[Jesus appears as if from nowhere while Martha swats Mary in the face]

Mary:  Jesus Fucking Christ when will you stop appearing as if from nowhere!

Jesus:  Hey mom, sorry.  Another fly plague?  And who’s that hiding under that table?

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  [Bright with hope] Oh thank Jesus, you’re here!

Jesus:  No problem.

Mary:  Where?  Bernard, get out from under there you agoraphobic freak!

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  It’s social anxiety disorder, he can’t help it.  But he’s a brilliant exterminator.

Bernard:  Bee?  is it safe?

Martha:  Bernard get your ass out from under that table and get to work!  None of us can do anything until these flies are cleared out.

Miss Bee Honeysuckle:  [Keeping a nervous distance from Martha] It’s safe enough.

[St Bernard crawls crablike from under the closest table to the door and on sight of Mary vomits on the floor.]

Mary:  Great.  Now we need carpet cleaners too.  Martha?

Martha:  [With a careworn heart, a toiler for her daily bread] I’m on it.

Bernard:  Sorry about that.  Weak stomach.  I’ll need incense.  Lots of it.

Mary:  Jesus?

Jesus:  I only do food, mom.  Wine, fish, bread.

Martha:  Jesus you useless dumbass.

Jesus:  Hey Martha, how’s your sister?

Martha:  She’s out back sucking balls.

Jesus:  Where?  Out back?  Mom, I’ll go look for incense.  Be back in a while.  Soon.  Be back soon.

Mary:  Oh here.  [Mary claps twice.  Incense smoke wafts from all directions.  The flies multiply]

Bernard:  [With a compelling voice and look] Flies, if ye will not hear the church let thee be to thee as the heathen and publican.  Whatsoever you shall bind upon heaven, shall be bound also in the Emperian building; and whatsoever you shall loose upon heaven, shall be loosed also in the Emperian building.  Flies, hear me now.  You shall be excommunicated at once statim, ipso facto.   Res sacræ, ritus, communio, crypta, potestas, prædia sacra, forum, civilia jura vetantur.

[The flies drop instantly to the floor, dead.  At least three inches deep of the bloody things.]

Miss Bee Honeysuckle [eyes wet with contrition]: Oh St. Bernard, you honey sweet teacher!

Mary:  Thanks, Bernard.  Martha, get a shovel.

Bernard:  No, No, Miss Honeysuckle will do clean up.  No extra charge.