BONE APPETITE is a 2-character black comedy loosely based on a recent incident in Germany in which a cannibal advertised for someone who wished to be slaughtered and consumed – the ad was answered and the business duly consummated.

 

BONE APPETITE was produced by Emerging Artists Theater, Spring 2009

 

Excerpt:

 

ARNY: early 30ties, burned-out rock musician

MATTHEW: mid to late 40ties, combination Noel Coward and Hannibal Lecter

 

(Bare stage. At opening light comes up on ARNY only, though MATTHEW is faintly lit in the spill)

 

ARNY

Had a dream. When I was a kid. Hollowed out, stuffed. With all them good things – mincemeat, sausage, figs, nuts– apple in the mouth – and roasted. To a nice shiny brown . . .  Cracklings! I was very pleasantly aware of the whole thing, smelling the roast, curled on the platter coming to table. All the eaters, talking, drinking beer, joking – a Christmas dinner! How big their eyes get when the roast – me! -- appears – some clap! And then the feeling of being unjointed – oh pleasantly! The way a chiropractor might take you apart -- and eaten. 

(beat)

I’m delicious. It’s thrilling being eaten. I feel kind of . . . drifting away . . . as I become less and less. It’s like a . . . fade out. I’m becoming one with them, with - with everything. I swear. I even taste myself! Oh, yeah . . .

 

(Light comes up now equally on MATTHEW)

 

MATTHEW

What gives food pleasure? Taste? Smell? Ah, but so much more. Presentation. The quality of light. The pattern of wall paper.  A hunting scene . . . What is pleasure but a conflagration of the senses? And memory. Oh, I could list the ingredients of perfection. An aged Chateauneuf du Pape, warm parmesan rolls . . . But, the genius of orchestration. Mozart composing “Elvira Madigan” instead of . . . Tchaikovsky. You see what I mean. How many meals have been derailed by a mosquito wing on the tracks? A careless remark by the waiter. Perfume billowing from a bosom at a nearby table . . . And so on. You see what I mean.

 

ARNY

It wouldn’t be a crime, right? Full cooperation, both parties. Papers signed.  

(beat)

It’s been done. Plenty. Usually under extremities. That rugby team crashed in the Andes. That sort of thing. Survival. 

(beat)

But you ain’t hungry. It’s not that sort of thing. You ‘n me. We’re a kind of . . . team. 

(takes a piece of paper from his pocket, reads from it) 

See here: “Well-built male between the ages of 18 and 24 prepared to be slaughtered and consumed.” 

 

MATTHEW

Have we considered the method of preparation?

 

ARNY

I’m over 30, skinny . . .

 

MATTHEW

Roasted. Side dishes? 

(beat) 

Root vegetables--

 

ARNY

Out of shape--

 

MATTHEW

A savory -- tarte a l’onion!

 

ARNY

Had a pony tail once.

 

(Pause)

 

MATTHEW

I always long for the younger brother whom I bind to myself forever. By eating.

(beat)

People who can’t push their thinking into this find it monstrous.  I am a normal human being.

 

ARNY

Cannibal . . . Sounds . . . Cannibal? Filed teeth ‘n . . .

 

MATTHEW

“Cannibal” is a word. 

(beat)

It says savage, bloodthirsty, ignorant, sans taste. A gobbler. I am a man of taste. I don’t eat anyone. No! A process of . . . right match. Background. References.

 

ARNY

References? You think I done this before?