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THEY NEED TO BE FED
A mini opera
THE CAST
(in order of appearance):
The Cannibal Choir
A dead young man
A government official
A street musician
The Muffin Man
Aminta
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1: Meat!
The night is lit in red and yellow. A choir of singers come forth, gliding angelically in humming in perfect harmony, while one of them recites –
WOMAN:
“On the sixth day, our Maker said:
Let there be war.
Let there be passion.
Let there be dreams and ambition.
Let all of humanity consume one another
Let one man aim to kill the other.
Let the biggest eaters hold
the people’s dreams in their bellies.
Let there be – ”
MAN:
“– MEEAATT!”
The Cannibal Choir breaks into a lively tune over the hearty chords of an old church piano.
CHOIR:
“Which red-blooded lover doesn’t love a pound
of medium-rare over the fire?
Who hasn’t indulged in the flesh fantastic,
Just to stoke their desire?
To immortalise your victory,
It takes the meat of your enemy
Let this be our ode to the glorious flesh
Let this be our tower;
Praise our makers, our warring leaders
For the foes that we devour!”
As they celebrate their dark gods and their joyous feasting, a dead young man wanders into the scene, singing of his murderer. His tragic tune is interspersed with the Cannibal Choir’s.
DEAD MAN:
“She sees them in flowers
She sees them in dreams
She sees them drowned
In sirens and screams
She has little raw things
that she lured away
with her motherly song
And her hungry ways…”
CHOIR:
“A Beacon of Boldness, An Eater of Dreams
Is the ultimate position
To conquer hearts and to cut off heads
Is the height of great ambition
We line up to slay them and feast on their sins
We share the spoils with our kith and our kin”
DEAD MAN:
“She chews up their shadows
She chews up their skin
She chews up their wishes
Till they’re dry and thin.”
CHOIR:
“Aminta, Aminta! Goddess of the hunt!”
DEAD MAN:
“Aminta, my Aminta! Your teeth are shining bright”
CHOIR:
“Aminta, our lady! You’re a lean and lovely sight”
DEAD MAN & CHOIR:
“Aminta, oh Aminta…Tonight is cannibal night!”
The music ends on a big rolling note. Then the scene drops into darkness.
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2: Do You Know The Muffin Man?
A portly, middle-aged government official is sitting at a coffee shop.
He’s getting up and brushing off crumbs, when a scruffy thirty-something man sitting just beside his table greets him with a raised hand. He tips his hat in return. Then the man (who is a street busker) asks him a strange question.
BUSKER:
“Do you know the Muffin Man
Who lives on Drury Lane?”
OFFICIAL:
“I do not know the Muffin Man.
Though I’ve heard he is insane.”
They both get up from their seats, with the official trying to look nonchalant. The labourer senses his curiosity, however, and jabs him lightly in the arm, continuing –
BUSKER:
“Do you know the things he eats
and what his oven holds?”
OFFICIAL:
“How should I know what’s to his taste?
Jelly, perhaps, and rolls.”
His eyes glaze over a little as he says this – the look on his face says, “Mmmm, jelly rolls.” The labourer jabs him again, harder this time, much to his annoyance.
BUSKER:
“It is not jelly; it is not rolls;
It is the meat-crunch of their bones.
The bones, my friend, the bones he plants
Beneath the earth when he’s alone.
Do you hear his piper’s song
That brings the bacon home?
And how hastily the children come
to meet him in his truck?”
The official’s curiosity is replaced by irritation – and an awareness that his break time is well past. He brusquely brushes the busker off.
OFFICIAL:
“Dear man, I’ve better things to do.
And I do not give a fuck.”
The official leaves. The busker throws up his hands up and says to himself, “Stupid ignorant pouf!”
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3: A Humble Man
A large, hungry-looking man takes her place. His lips glisten in an almost obscene manner. His eyes shine with glints of desperation.
MUFFIN MAN:
“It’s a new day, a good day
To take a child and dance the night away
And breathe the smell of untried flesh
And meat that is red, and raw, and fresh.”
He walks along the road, and comes to a large colourful truck hawking ice cream, cupcakes and lollipops. The melody becomes perky, jaunty.
MUFFIN MAN:
“What else can a humble man ask of you?
I give muffins and candy to those who are good
I give nice, sweet things to those who are my food.
I take no cash from any of you.
All I take is a bit of blood.
A bit of warmth. A bit of this,
A bit of that
From the brains you keep
Beneath your hat.”
He sighs, apparently misunderstood. He takes off his hat and hangs it on the truck.
MUFFIN MAN:
“No one uses hope except when hopeless.
No one sees their dreams except in dreams.
No one needs their souls, or so it seems.
So why
Can’t I
Have some?”
The Muffin Man hops onto his truck and rings his bell. “Muffins, cakes, ice cream! Candy and other sweet things!” he calls. He drives off and his shouts fade away.
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4: Ballad of a Streetwalker
Dusk is falling on the sleepy town. As the crowd thins and people head off home, a lone street musician is playing a sweet, simple tune on his harmonica.
BUSKER:
“Well, the dust settles into the road again
And the cafés are ready to close
And it’s all so sweet and yet destined to die
Like a wonderful, withering rose
I see that young woman has just been kissed
By the man that’s she’s loved for so long
Will they ever get out
Of the trap that’s about
To feed on the young and the strong?”
More harmonica, playing a variation of the opening tune. A young boy passes by and drops some coins at his feet.
BUSKER:
“I say, Child, can you sing me a melody
But don’t sing it so loud they can hear
For they’ll sweep off your spirit
And do bad things to it
Then they’ll feast and grow fat on your fear.”
The young boy’s eyes widen; he decides to move on. The busker nods at him and continues singing.
BUSKER:
“Those who dream fullest
Will disappear soonest
While those who think small will survive
And you think it’s unfair,
But do you really care
As long as you wake up alive?
My time may come later than others.
Well, these skinny arms don’t bear much meat.
For I’m just a street-walker
Whose daydreams grow smaller
With each day I sing on the street.”
He plays a brief closing melody; then puts his harmonica away, gathers up the day’s earnings and leaves.
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5: Lullaby
In the shadows, a lean and beautiful young woman (Aminta) appears. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, dreamy. Her lips glisten like one who is fresh from feeding.
AMINTA:
“Hi-i-i-i-igh
Hi-i-i-i-igh
High on the blood of yesterday
Sweet wishes, sweet sleep."
We see her cradling a child who appears to be slumbering deeply against her chest.
AMINTA:
“Sleep deep, for there are no more
Nightmares to be had
I’ll cradle you close to my chest.
Dreams will not turn bad.”
When she lets the child fall back into bed, the little girl’s face has grown slack and grey.
AMINTA:
“Dreams will be devoured
Digested and drowned
Never to be found.
Babies and boys, women and girls
Men and halflings of the world
Close your eyes and open your hearts!
Red, dripping, beautiful hearts
I love you. All of you.
My love is unconditional
Full and ripe, irrational
I am your dark mother.
Come and I will smother
you softly.”
Aminta is joined by the Muffin Man – who, like her, looks full and sated. He licks his lips and sings with her.
MUFFIN MAN:
“We hunt in the dark,
We hunt in the day.
We hunt the hopes”
[TOGETHER]:
“...That you lock away.
Let them sing, let them breathe
Don’t keep them beneath
Your skin where they’ll die.”
AMINTA:
“What you don’t use”
MUFFIN MAN:
“We will;”
AMINTA:
“What you don’t need,”
MUFFIN MAN:
“We’ll kill.”
[TOGETHER]:
“Precious, dark, sweet.
Feed us with meat.
Precious, dark, sweet
In dreams we will meet
In dreams we will meet.”
Aminta and the Muffin Man clasp hands, grow wispy, and start to levitate. Finally they appear to fade into the air, vague and light as a dream.
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5: They Need To Be Fed
As they melt away, the dead young man reappears. He is with a small, curvy young woman who – like him – has left the mortal coil. Their hands are clasped. They enter the scene like a boy and girl making their first appearance at a debutante ball.
The scene lights up to reveal a ballroom decorated with silver bones. Music swells as the Cannibal Choir appear. The young man and woman begin to waltz.
CHOIR:
“They need to be full
with baskets of meat
And sweet, plump things
Tied up tight and neat”
The chorus of voices grow clearer as four undead people join the waltz. One of them is the fat government official, who looks especially bloody (while the rest merely look grey and drained).
CHOIR:
“They need to be brimming
with blood and bones
till they’re bloated and big
and heavy as stones
They need to be fed
They need to be fed
Clothed in your skin
They need to be fed.”
As the song goes on (and grows in volume), more and more people stream in. They all pair up and fall into the dance, waltzing away in this grand purgatory.
CHOIR:
“They must harp on your hopes
They must swallow your dreams
They must be cloaked
in your cries and your screams
They need to be fed
They need to be fed
Decorated in death
They need to be fed.
When all else is silent,
When all else is gone
The Devourers of Dreams
Will rise and reign on
They need to be fed
They need to be fed
Meat-eaters, dreamsweepers
They need to be fed.”
The dark, shadowy edges of the scene brighten to reveal a dark splendid ballroom. At the top of a grand stairway is Aminta and the Muffin Man, holding hands as they descend upon their ghostly monarchy.
AMINTA & MUFFIN MAN:
“Keep us near or keep us far
Think us alive or think us dead
But remember that we are never full.
When dreams go astray, we Will Be Fed!”
This grand finale sees everyone frozen in mid-dance. Then the lights go off until only dim outlines of the still bodies are left.
In the midst of this suspended scene, the busker comes down the stairway and weaves between the undead waltzing couples.
He strikes up a tune in a reprise of his earlier Ballad.
BUSKER:
“My love,
don’t let others steal your thoughts
Or your sweet, careless, flung-about lives
And watch out for those strangers
Who smell sharply of danger
For their teeth and their hearts are like knives.
So this is the story
An overblown melody
Of music, of meat, and of dreams;
And our lives are too brief
To be singing of grief
So let’s close up and sew up the seams.”
He plays his harmonica one last time. As he reaches the final lingering note, the last few lights go out.
-END-
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