As his fortieth birthday approaches, Davis Goodman is in the throes of a colossal midlife crisis, in large part because he is ashamed of his empty bourgeois lifestyle, which is utterly incompatible with the dreams and ideals of his youth.  Moreover, he has serious concerns about his career satisfaction, his wife’s fidelity, his daughter’s moral character, and his family’s avid consumerism.  There’s a good chance he’ll be fired from his demeaning job as a real estate salesman.  He can’t seem to find the gumption to stand up to his grasping, manipulative, materialistic wife, whose world view is infecting his precocious fourteen-year-old daughter.  As in Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, Davis is pining away for a lost golden era as he is being destroyed by a rapidly changing world to which he has failed to adapt.  Already partly corrupted, and yet sadly naive and quixotic, Davis nevertheless has sufficient imagination to attempt to transform himself.  He embarks upon a wild spiritual odyssey during which he faces many trials, including sexual assault, hallucinogenic intoxication, and involuntary incarceration.  The invaluable advice he receives from an ex-con, a shrink, a call girl, and a teen mom helps him to reconcile his Woodstock generation values with the realities of twenty-first century living. 

SCENE 5

MARJORIE and AMANDA are sitting on the couch in the living room; DAVIS and ELISE are standing behind the couch, massaging MARJORIE’s shoulders and AMANDA’s shoulders, respectively.  There is a telephone on an end table next to the couch.

DAVIS: It’s great that you could come down, Elise.  What a pleasant surprise!

ELISE: Yes, I hadn’t realized it had been so long.

DAVIS:  Way too long, I’d say.

MARJORIE:  Ow!  Davis, that’s too hard.  I’m going to be black and blue.

DAVIS:  Sorry, Marj.  I guess I was getting a little too enthusiastic.

ELISE takes DAVIS’ hand.

ELISE:  Never squeeze, Davis.  Remember, the fingertips of a true sensualist are always curving up and back.

DAVIS: (resuming his massage of MARJORIE’s shoulders) Oh I get it.  How’s that, Marj?

MARJORIE:  Now it’s too soft.  I feel as if I’m getting a massage from a jellyfish.

ELISE: Tell you what. Why don’t we switch, Davis? You can work on Amanda while I’m doing Marjorie.

DAVIS:  All right.

DAVIS and ELISE switch places.

MARJORIE:  Ahh.  There’s that strong, masculine touch that I’ve been yearning for.

DAVIS:  (to MARJORIE) She is a professional, you know.

ELISE: Davis, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you ever since I got here.

AMANDA: (stage whisper to MARJORIE) I told you she didn’t just happen to be in New York.  This is going to be juicy.  Am I going to have to listen at my bedroom door?

ELISE:  It’s about Max.

MARJORIE:  Whatever it is, don’t tell me you brought him with you. Why haven’t the authorities impounded that creature?

DAVIS:  Marj!  I love Max.  And Max loves you.

ELISE:  You know how frisky Max is?  You know, almost too friendly?

MARJORIE: You mean the way he humps anything that moves?

DAVIS:  It’s amazing that at sixteen years of age he still has that same habit.

ELISE:  Well it seems as if he tried it one time too many.  There’s this really nasty pit bull on the block. I think she even bit a kid, and people were talking about trying to get rid of her.  Anyway, I was taking Max to the park and he was off the leash, ‘cause he’s usually really good, but he turned the corner and—wham!— he ran right into them.

DAVIS and ELISE stop massaging and turn to face each other.

ELISE:  I was about twenty yards behind, and I came running as fast as I could as soon as I heard the yelping.  But it seems as if Max got a little overly friendly—as he tends to do with any animate object—and this nasty pit bull just turned her head and grabbed poor Max by the throat and the little bitch wouldn’t let go; she just kept growling and sinking her teeth deeper into his neck and shaking him.

DAVIS:   Was he badly hurt?

ELISE: (nodding her head) I’m so sorry, Davis.

MARJORIE:  Can’t you talk and rub at the same time?

DAVIS:  Very badly?

ELISE, now crying, continues to nod her head.

DAVIS:  How very badly?

ELISE:  (shaking her head, crying) Dead.

DAVIS:  Oh no!  Poor Max!  Poor Elise!  Why didn’t you call me?

ELISE:  I couldn’t tell you over the telephone, Davis.  I just couldn’t.  I had to tell you in person.

DAVIS:  That’s so considerate of you, Elise.  So typical of you. But I could have helped you with the burial arrangements.

ELISE:  But I didn’t know what to do, Davis.  He was such a bloody mess.

DAVIS:  Still, I would have liked to say goodbye to the old boy.

ELISE: Well you still can, Davis. He’s in the trunk.

MARJORIE:  She did bring him.  I can’t believe it.

DAVIS:  In the trunk?  No kidding?

AMANDA:  That is so gross!  Can I come see?

DAVIS:  Well maybe we can give him a proper farewell after all.  There’s plenty of room in the backyard.

MARJORIE: The backyard? Are you out of your mind?  Haven’t you ever heard of health codes?  He’ll end up in our water supply.  The breast cancer rate here is already five times the national average.

DAVIS: What are you getting so hysterical about?  You think you’re going to catch breast cancer from Max?

MARJORIE:  Davis, I’ve waited fourteen years to be completely free of that mangy beast, and I am sure as hell not going to be stuck with his stinking corpse planted right here (gestures toward audience) in my own backyard.  He’ll be haunting my dreams for the rest of my life.

DAVIS:  What do you want us to do, throw him in a dumpster?

MARJORIE:  You can donate his remains to the nearest Chinese restaurant for all I care but don’t you dare bring a bloody, rotting dog cadaver inside my house!

ELISE:  Well we had better do something pretty quick.  Seeing as it’s almost summertime and all, I guess it gets pretty hot in that trunk with the sun just beating down on the metal all day, and it’s starting to stink pretty bad.  There was a dog at the gas station that was sniffing and barking, and he began chasing the car as I drove away.  I tell you, I felt like a criminal or something, as if I were an ax murderer with a body in the trunk.  I was imagining what it would be like if I had Bruno chopped up back there.

MARJORIE:  How is Bruno doing?  Still working as a cook?

ELISE:  Oh Bruno is in a very good space right now.  He’s really gotten so many things in his life together.  I’m so proud of him.  Although that reminds me, there actually was another reason I wanted to come down and talk with you.  Maybe this isn’t the best timing, but seeing how it involves all three of you at least indirectly I guess now is as good a time as any to bring it up.

Long pause.  DAVIS, MARJORIE, and AMANDA are staring at ELISE.

MARJORIE:  Ye-e-es?

ELISE: You know that a long time ago Bruno and I realized that the most exquisite celebration of our love for each other would be by together bringing forth new life, through the miracle of creation.  Unfortunately, this expression of our love has never been fulfilled, since we’ve had difficulty conceiving.  We went through years of testing, and I tried a whole slew of fertility pills and holistic medicines and homemade remedies, and the only thing we learned, Amanda, was that Bruno’s sperm are all crooked and very bad swimmers.

MARJORIE:  Not this soap opera again.

ELISE:  We finally saved up enough money and decided to go ahead with in vitro fertilization.

AMANDA:  You mean like a test tube baby?

ELISE:  Exactly, honey.  But now it turns out that Bruno’s sperm are not only crooked and bad swimmers, but they lack some adherence factor that’s necessary for fertilization to occur, even using the ex vitro techniques. We were quite devastated, really, after all that we’ve been through.  But we talked it over and decided that the best solution was to find a sperm donor.  And after careful consideration, we concluded that our ideal candidate for a donor was none other than Davis Goodman.

DAVIS: Wow! A sperm donor. How does that…?  I mean, I’m really honored, Elise.  I’m flabbergasted. I don’t know what to say. I mean, that you and Bruno would choose me…

MARJORIE:  I beg your pardon, Elise.  We really do appreciate this opportunity to participate in your family planning.  But Davis has quite enough responsibilities on his shoulders already.  He’s rather over his head, in fact, and couldn’t possibly take on any new commitments.  Isn’t that right, Davis?

DAVIS:  Well it is true that…

ELISE:  But that’s not an issue.  There’s a standard document that we would sign exempting Davis completely of any parental duties or legal liability.

MARJORIE:  Yes but what do you need him for?  Why does my family have to get dragged in to correct the abnormalities in your reproductive system?

ELISE:  Well actually I did try to reach Derek Jeter, but he never returned any of my calls.

DAVIS:  A Yankee?  Elise!

ELISE:  But he’s so handsome!  And obviously a fine physical specimen.

MARJORIE: Why can’t you just make a withdrawal from a sperm bank?

ELISE: Well that’s certainly an option. But aside from being totally impersonal, it’s a frightening shot in the dark, since most clinics give you a very limited amount of information about the father’s genetic material.  On the other hand, I already know that my friend Davis is intelligent, kind, caring, well built, good looking.  And what better proof do I need of the quality of his genes than your lovely daughter—not that I would ever downplay your contribution, Marjorie.  But Amanda, wouldn’t it be cool having a little half sister or half brother you could come visit up in Boston?

AMANDA:  That would be awesome!  I say go for it, Daddy!

MARJORIE:  Amanda, I think it’s time for you to go to your room.

AMANDA:  What about the rest of my massage?

MARJORIE:  That will have to wait.  Let’s go.

AMANDA: Every time things get interesting.  (exits)

MARJORIE: (stands up; to ELISE) You’ve got a lot of nerve coming down here with your hand out (extends hand, palm up) asking for a sperm donation.  (looks down at palm of her hand, closes it and quickly brings her arm back to her side) Or your test tube out, or your ovaries, or…Whatever you have out, you can just put it away.

ELISE:  It’s nothing to get all wigged out about, Marjorie. We just thought it would be an opportunity to reinforce the positive bonds between me and Bruno and you and Davis.  Think of it as a friendly gesture, as a truly beautiful and meaningful gift.  Or if you want to look at it from the perspective of a businesswoman, it’s just a matter of quality assurance.  This way I know what I’m getting.  It’s quite simple, really.

MARJORIE:  Don’t you patronize me you little slut.  Friendly gesture my ass.  You don’t fool me for one minute with your hippy dippy new age pot smoking countercultural holier than thou bullshit.

MARJORIE stalks towards ELISE, who gradually backs stage left.

MARJORIE:  I can see right through your whole phony act. You were just dying to get your hooks into my husband from the day we met.  I’m on to you.

ELISE:  But all I wanted…

MARJORIE:  Try slinging it on some other corner, sister.

ELISE:  (gasps) Oh!  You’re awful!  (exits stage left)

DAVIS: Nice, Marj. I think you’ve outdone yourself.  Very classy.

MARJORIE:  I want her out of here.

DAVIS: (picking up telephone) I was getting that distinct impression.

MARJORIE:  Who are you calling?

DAVIS:  The veterinary hospital.

MARJORIE:  I think you’re a little late.