Well, I shouldn't do this

[PATRICK]

4. Found Act Three!

And I had to reconcile that with a redo. Anyhow, this is the end of Ubu. Something devoutly to be wished for.


ESTEBAN#2: Well, no Sire. Roughly speaking, they can be divided among those who wish to kill you, wish to kill you horribly, wish to bring you to justice, those who wish you to have an accident, and those who want to keep you captive to drain you of whatever advantages you might provide.
UBU: (Silent for a while.) My followers?
ESTEBAN#2: Quite a few remain, Sire. They hope you have an honorable quick death. Some have set up an online fund…
UBU: I can’t believe I suddenly don’t care about fundraising. Maybe I am saved? (Gabriel shakes his head sadly). Am I destined to be slaughtered, or die a natural death? Some blessing this is, to get a new heart. It’s all your fault they have turned against me. And all those cowards too. How much time do I have left. (Gabriel holds up two fingers) Weeks? Days? HOURS?
Minutes…
GABRIEL: Back up. Things are progressing to two hours, but some minutes you can change.
UBU: (Waving hands wildly) I need a refuge, someplace… Except Greenland! Saving that for prison camps in rare earth mines after we deport the Danes. Take us to the Vatican! Only, can you make us invisible. Or maybe wear hoodies. You know, the anonymous black teenager kind.
GABRIEL: Truly a wise choice. Let it be so.

End of Act Two







ACT THREE: The Sistine Chapel

(A large screen projection backdrop of the high altar and back fresco of the Last Judgment. The Pope and Mere Ubu are seated in a wooden pew. Ubu’s KKK robes are smeared with stains, mostly orange.)

UBU: The Suite Sixteen Chapel! Been here. Very scary pictures, but kinda gay. And Jesus without a beard. Not even a small mustache. Needs more gold. Now that’s an altar! Shoulda added 'get elected Pope' in the contract.
GABRIEL: You might want to lower your voice. We are invisible for now, but they can here us.
UBU: Yeah, I get it. I hear some voices over there in the front pews. Holy moly, that looks like Mere Ubu herself. Let’s get closer. I know quietly. She usually doesn’t say too much at home because I have everybody recorded. Except me. They scrub everything I tell them to.
GABRIEL: Bad news on that front. There are others recording everything you say. It is a matter of despair because you broadcast and post most of it to the world yourself.
UBU: Shhh. Here we are.
MERE UBU: (Pausing her conversation) That smell.
I’d know it anywhere, but I don’t see anyone around.
POPE: A bad batch of incense perhaps. Well, when we get old…
MERE UBU: (hotly) I’m here confessing the truth, your Papastry. I think my husband might be possessed by evil spirits and one of them is here!
POPE: No one can harm you here in the chapel. You are under God’s and my protection.
(Ubu elbows Gabriel excitedly)
MERE UBU: I am so frightened. All your Swiss Guards are out controlling the mobs protesting your Mass for my husband. I have done so much wrong, but I am not sure what to say. I always have to let him do all the talking….ouch! You pinched me!
POPE: I assure you….ow! Are you laughing at me?
MERE UBU: Of course not, but I know that ugly chortle. His ghost is here! They must have murdered him already! Poor Ubu.
UBU: Poor Ubu! Enough of this fun. Let them see us. I am running out of time.
GABRIEL: As I keep reminding you. Very well. (Mere Ubu shrieks)
UBU: I wish I could snap my fingers like you do. Do you think…
GABRIEL: I think you have to remember the clock.
POPE: King Ubu! Why have you come here.
UBU: I just wanted to change things before the end and something bad happens to my soul. But everyone turns against you when you do that. I may be causing my own death.
MERE UBU: I thought you would be the death of ME! I’ve been on the run since you reversed all your policies. Now the Veep is in charge but no one wants to listen to him. Total chaos.
UBU: Ah, the Very Empty-headed Exalted Prince. Well, if just once he became more popular than me or ceased working for the Contract I would have fired him. I miss the firing, the cries of anguish and indignation, the lamentation of the women, the sternly worded letters. But Pope, can’t you save me with some indulgence or cannon lawyer? I can buy both. I’ll light every candle and curse the darkness. Lend me those Keys!
POPE: I am afraid I have to leave you to the Angel of the Lord the same way you tied yourself to the Devil. If you can repent, I will not stand in the way. You insisted on your own terms, but no one escapes judgment.
UBU: Why not? You’ve never had a convert as important as me. Especially all my predecessors like that guy- and the one before him too. What terrible terrible people they are compared to me and they forced me to do drastic things to clean up.
GABRIEL: Stop! You are destroying your one chance. You can attain Heaven even with all your self-will.
UBU: Especially with my self-will! None stronger. We can come to an arrangement. I could use a drink….holy water?
GABRIEL: Not only do you insist on your own way, justice demands it. Behold the gate! (the entrance to the road to heaven appears in place of the high altar.)
UBU: Wow! But I expected gold and pearls. This is more like stainless steel. What’s that gray mountain in the distance? And it looks like rain and lightning.
GABRIEL: For you that is the first part of the Golf Course of Purgatory. If you want to change, you must make all eighteen holes. You carry your own clubs- which are very hot to the touch and heavy. There will be no cheating or possibility of such. Each hole will be very difficult and painful. The iron mountain of the first is typical of the difficulty levels. The roughs are, well, rough. The quicksand pits very deep. Angels, whose spiritual appearance you will find painful for a very long time will appear to remind you who you are…. Since you have chosen the Catholic way, this will be your Purgatory. (Shows a stainless steel large gate, fronted by many rose bushes.)
UBU: Gotta get to the gate and get a look see. Ow, the damn thorns!
GABRIEL: I promised only a golf course. It seems some small democratic dispensation has been given to deceased prior Royal wives to add this preview.
UBU: Kind of gray in there. Feels hot. Is it likely to rain? I'll need a caddy carrying an umbrella and a good golf cart...Wait, that green(which isn't very) looks kinda steep.
UBU: Uh, that’s pretty stiff punishment, but what a great idea! I’m a great golfer! Ah, Mephistopheles!(Devil arrives dressed as a Cardinal)
MEPH: Got my name right for the first time! Forgive the cardinal sin costume. It was the Boss's idea. Before you get your hairshirt golf clothes on listen to what we have ready for you.
UBU: In Hell?
MEPH: We like to call it Alternative Paradise. (Gabriel looks wrathful.)
Anyway, we have built a huge casino hotel for you entirely out of gold and keep the temperature cool enough so it doesn’t melt.
UBU: That’s swell! But you must put in air-conditioning.
MEPH: Tech stuff is no good in Alternative Paradise. We’re very spiritual down there.
GABRIEL: ENOUGH! The torments are everlasting and you will curse yourself forever.
MEPH: HAH! We curse the One ultimately responsible..sometimes each other, but never ourselves. We keep our integrity, our self respect.
UBU: And our bitcoins?
MEPH: Glad you mentioned that! Meant it for a surprise, but here’s the deal. It’s all just code and you can spend all eternity memorizing each one so it will be yours and no one else’s. Uh, my guys will visit you to help out your memory. Play games with your trading cards...Not that Bible of yours, I’m afraid. The other one we gave you in secret.
GABRIEL: Your “pals” giving your memory the more than occasional pitchfork prod?
UBU: Nevermind. That sounds swell and I can have guest losers in the casino I can dish out some grief to...But golfing to heaven is not a bad deal either, despite the not cheating part. How long will that take do you think?
GABRIEL: It WILL take ten billion years of constant torment and hardship. And no cheating at golf.
UBU: Shit! I did not hear that right. Do I have a handicap?
GABRIEL: Your handicap is your own will and the harm you have caused others you cannot make up for. Only a change of will and a slight change of heart gets you back on the path, and Divine Mercy allows you the shortest path of transformation. And you steered us to the Catholic way.
UBU: Ten billion years!
GABRIEL: Humanly inconceivable, I know, but it represents the individual suffering of every creature on Earth you have affected. The last hole will find you so purified that those final millions of years of realization of those victims’ suffering will be more intense than all the torments of Hell. And as I warned you, this is doing things your way.
UBU: Ten billion years! That can't be right! God is supposed to be merciful. That is why he died for me, for Chrissake! I might as well be in Hell.
MEPH: As you originally promised. In your casino, laughing at the suckers.
UBU: Do I get to be a High Demon and Torturer?
MEPH: That is entirely up to the Boss. Remember he is a little cross with you.
(Margharita, dressed in ICE uniform enter behind, unnoticed, with a large knife as in the painting of Marat’s assassination)
UBU: I don’t feel well. Everything is going to hurt. I don’t want to suffer. I think I don’t want to die! I certainly don’t like that contract thing.
MERE UBU: For God’s sake man, make up your mind! I hear both Estebans in the nave!
(MEPH aside: “My boys!”)
MERE UBU: They are leading a mob barely held back by the Swiss Guards.
UBU: They have come to save me!
MERE UBU: I hardly think so. I see armed people in black hoods and red hats. Signs that say: Deport Ubu to Hell! Listen to the angels and save yourself while they are busy looting!
UBU: But which one? Will I get an honorary welcome parade in Heaven?
GABRIEL: After the first hundred years on the First Hole you won’t care. Hurry! Just repent and get to the gate!
UBU frightened) Sure, Ok, I,I... can't say that. I won't. Don't have to!
MEPH: Being in hate means never saying you're sorry. No hurry with me! We won’t grab you. Just let things work out. You got time to be you. Don't throw it away!(Demonic chorus begins its chant: "Let Ubu be Ubu. Ubu be Ubu….&quot
MERE UBU: What have you got on you? It’s all orange.(Rubs her hands disgustedly.) I can’t get it off. Out, damned make-up!(The Pope escorts her offstage though she stumbles through some of the rose garden. The curtains start to close, Ubu escapes to front stage and beseeches the audience. And here, all is improvised according to the present performance. Babbling, flailing, Ubu wants the audience to help him decide even as arms and hooks of black and white try to draw him back into the Chapel. Eventually, he is dragged back in. From behind the curtain comes a loud scream. An offkey horn toot. Perhaps a final puppet play of the medieval morality sort. Gabriel comes out with his horn and asks if they want a Final tune.)

OPTIONAL:

GABRIEL: All things come to an end, with two exceptions. You are what you do for and to others. That is the all of judgment, life beyond your life, that whatever else plays in the mind stays in the mind and time draws the curtain.
As for the two supposedly invisible entities in this play. You see your neighbor, you see your God. If you only look to yourself, you might see the elusive Satan. How you treat your neighbor determines everything. Don’t wait around for the Finale.
MEPH: Anyone want to place bets on my new boy Esteban #2 and his soon to be bride Margharita? Everyone gets a chance!(Gabriel chases him offstage)


(Notes. As a perfectly acceptable modern style cop out, the audience and the actors can create their own ending.
I fully desired to save Ubu, but was utterly defeated by his narcissistic consistency. Maybe by the dynamics of the Faust tradition? I generally do redemptive fiction and this is meant as encouragement to all modern Ubu's, tiny short lived sinners, to repent. Repent or no, in any event, there would have been justice, but Ubu seems to have chosen to be incurable by hardened habit, desire, and entitlement.
And yes, those who enabled this obviously incompetent boob could very well have much more guilt for the consequences. Also, I have not neglected Goethe where the Romantic dispensations led to God winning his Book of Job-like wager after Faust samples Satan's wares. It never did sit well with me- and Ubu is no striving or loving Faust.)