Window for Two

Do you plan to get up today Max?

No Marge, you?

I am up.

You plan on staying up?

No, just wanted a spot of tea.

That’s very British of you.

What is?

A spot of tea . . . a spot.

I heard it on a TV program the other night.

Which one?

It was . . . something on B.B.C.

No I meant . . . which night.

Oh, umm . . . I can’t recall.

Very well.

Would you like a spot of tea?  I think it was Tuesday.  Or Wednesday. 

Yes those two are easy to confuse.  Yes I’ll have a spot.

(Marge leaves the room and comes back carrying two cups of tea.)

Thank you Marge.

 I hope you like cream.  I put cream in it Max. 

Yes Marge I love cream, you know I love cream. 

Oh yes.  It’s like Tuesday or Wednesday . . . sometimes it’s hard to tell.  Well? 

There was a raven perched on that skinny branch.  That really really skinny one. 

Point to it.

(Max points to the really really skinny branch.)

I don’t see a raven. 

No, he’s gone . . . he was there, was.  That’s the branch.

Oh I see.

It was lovely, his sleek blackness, his cool opaqueness, against that branch so skinny and sort of long. 

 (Sigh!)  That’s why I hate to get up.  Even for a spot of tea.

(Max and Marge laugh.)

So was it really lovely Max? 

It was . . . quite lovely.  But don’t worry Marge, I don’t want you to start worrying now.      

I won’t Max.

You promise?

I promise.  How’s your tea?

Quite lovely.

Like the raven? 

Different sort of lovely.   

Oh I know, just . . . you used that same phrase. 

Which one? 

Quite lovely.  You used it for the raven and for the tea. 

You’re a remarkable woman Marge. 

Thank you Max.

 (Marge and Max kiss. Slobbery, smacking. Unlock lips. Stare for a long while in silence.)

Did you see that leaf fall? 


It fell and there it is, the fetal one.

You sure that’s it?

I followed it all the way down.

Extraordinary.  And fetal yes, that’s just the right word. 


What it is. 


(Marge sips her tea.)



If I need to go out to the bathroom….


In a few minutes—which I’m certain I will . . . is it okay….

Yes, darling? 

If my tea is finished, is it okay . . . can I pee into the teacup? 

My darling, we’ve been married 44 years, of course, if you’d like. 

It’s just . . . I don’t want to get up again . . . maybe miss a raven or something else . . . quite lovely. 

No need to get up Marge, you’ve got a teacup to pee in. 

Yes, I do, don’t I?  You’re a wonderful husband Max. 

You’re an extraordinary wife Marge.

(Marge sips her tea. Max sips his tea.

They look at each other then out the window, unfinished.)

About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, performer, and playwright, John Biscello, has lived in the high-desert grunge-wonderland of Taos, New Mexico since 2001. He is the author of four novels, Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, Nocturne Variations, and No Man’s Brooklyn; a collection of stories, Freeze Tag, two poetry collections, Arclight and Moonglow on Mercy Street; and a fable, The Jackdaw and the Doll, illustrated by Izumi Yokoyama. He also adapted classic fables, which were paired with the vintage illustrations of artist, Paul Bransom, for the collection: Once Upon a Time, Classic Fables Reimagined. His produced, full-length plays include: LOBSTERS ON ICE, ADAGIO FOR STRAYS, THE BEST MEDICINE, ZEITGEIST, U.S.A., and WEREWOLVES DON’T WALTZ.
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