BEYOND THE VELVET ROPES
The continuing saga of the inner workings of a typical museum:  smiling at
donors, smiling at visitors, smiling at trustees, smiling at local news
reporters who never quite manage to get the story straight even though you
practically write it all down for them in your press releases, lots and lots
of sexual harassment but absolutely no actual sex anywhere whatsoever

EPISODE 5:  The Greatest Show on Earth

Cast of Characters:  (In order of appearance)
Dr. Dogz
Edward
Imelda
Peapod Beetlebox, III
Cynthia
Two big guys

Scene 1:  (At the end of the year, the Board unanimously agreed to take up
Dr. Dogz on his generous and tax-deductible offer of an in-kind psychiatric
visit for each staff member in lieu of raises.)  Dr. Dogz's office.  The
stage is bare save for a futon on a frame, a chair, and a telephone on a
small table, grouped at the center.  Dr. Dogz is seated in the chair, with
his back to the audience.

Dr. Dogz:  Come in!
Edward enters, bounces over to the futon, and flops down.
Edward:  Doc, I have to tell you.  I had this dream the other night that was
really amazing.  It took place in this circus tent.  There were 3 rings with
all sorts of things happening.  I was one of the clowns.  I didn't pay much
attention to what anyone else was doing, but _I_ got to run all over the
place to make the ticket-holders stand quietly in line by poking them with a
giant plastic souvenir bat while reciting selected passages from "The
Definitive Guide to Exhibitions Derived from Movies about Books Written by
Famous Victorian Women."  What do you think it all means?
Dr. Dogz:  What do YOU think it means?
Edward:  Well, I was in Heaven!  I guess it means that I really LOVE being an
educator and am a happy kind of guy.
Edward bounces off stage.

Dr. Dogz:  Come In!
Imelda enters, walks casually over to the futon, and sits cross-legged.
Imelda:  I had a dream the other night that felt so real!  There was a 3-ring
circus with a medium-sized ring, a
really BIG ring, and then this teeny-tiny ring.  I was in the medium ring
with about 35 little poodles that I swear sort-of resembled people who came
to the museum on the last elderhostel tour.  I barked at them and they
twirled around and around, and then I clapped my hands and they circled and
jumped through a line of hoops.  What do you think it all means?
Dr. Dogz:  What do YOU think it means?
Imelda:  I felt so exhilarated.  I guess it means that being an interpreter
is really a power trip!  Imelda sighs, smiles and exits the stage.

Dr. Dogz:  Enter!
Peapod saunters over to the futon but does not sit down.  Instead, he stands
with his hands in his pockets, facing the audience.
Peapod:  Ah, Rex.  I CAN call you Rex, can't I?  I had quite a dream the
other night.  It took place inside a circus tent.  Bright spotlights shone
down upon a really BIG ring.  I was in that ring.  In the center, to be
precise.  When I started to speak, the lights were dimmed all around outside,
and the other noise just merged into a low hum.  I spoke and spoke and spoke,
but I can't remember any of it now as it seems I couldn't quite understand
what I was saying.  Anyway, all of a sudden these ferocious lions and tigers
were let into my ring, and they circled around me, foaming at the mouth.  I
seemed to know exactly how to tickle them, though, and I soon had them
rolling over and playing dead!  Did I mention that I got to wear a really
great uniform with gold epaulets?  So what does it all mean?
Dr. Dogz:  YOU tell ME.
Peapod:  I suppose that it has something to do with my unparalleled abilities
as a director, and I am in total
control.
Peapod removes his hands from his pockets, shakes Dr. Dogz's hand, and exits.

Dr. Dogz:  Come In!
Silence.
Dr. Dogz:  Next!
Cynthia enters, stopping at the edge of the stage to survey the scene.
Dr. Dogz:  Isn't there anything you'd like to discuss?
She moves to the futon and lays face-down.  She does not speak for a few
moments.
Cynthia, tilting her head to the side:  I have this recurring nightmare.  It
happens in this circus.  There I am, in
this teeny-tiny ring, the smallest under the big-top.  But I have more
crammed into it than any of the others.  It's all held in there by this web
of velvet ropes.  And I'm doing about 50 things at once.  For example, I'm
trying to juggle a Chippendale chest-on-chest, a spinning wheel, and several
Civil War cannonballs while reclassifying each of 2 million artifacts into
the "New and Improved Nomenclature of the Day."  Then, all of a sudden, I let
everything go.  I drop the chest and spinning wheel, and let the cannonballs
fly.  I break through the velvet rope web.  I light a match and set all the
donor cards on fire.  I set the rest of the stuff on fire, too, just for fun;
actually, that part is quite cathartic.
Dr. Dogz:  Please, continue.
Cynthia:  But just when I think everything is going to be fine, a new batch
of stuff comes in and the nightmare
starts all over again!  What does this mean, do you think?
Dr. Dogz says nothing.  He reaches for the phone, and speaks softly into it
so that the audience cannot hear.
Two big guys enter and walk over to Cynthia.  They each grab an arm and lift
her to her feet.
Cynthia:  What?  What's happening?
Dr. Dogz:  You have a clear case of Chronic Curatorsis.  I'm afraid there's
no cure, but we can try to make you more comfortable in your decline.  I'm
told that forcing someone in your condition to listen in perpetuity to the
"Hey Hey We're the Monkees" single from their reunion tour album has a kind
of narcotic numbing effect that should eventually help you to feel no pain.
 The museum will miss you, but I'm sure they'll have no trouble finding a
replacement at half your salary from the pool of bright young things
graduating from the ever-increasing M.A. programs.
She struggles to speak.
Cynthia:  You can take the curator out of the museum, but you can't take the
museum out of the curator!  I shall return!
The big guys drag Cynthia from the room.  The lights fade to black.

The end.

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:-)  Happy New Year, Museum-L'ers !!!!
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For episodes 1 through 4, etc., contact:

Melanie Solomon
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