"As
sharp and twisted as a length of razor-wire, this darkly
comic exploration of knowledge of power is the most recent
work of Alberta writer Ron Chambers." --Alberta Theatre
Projects program
"17
Dogs is surprising,
moving and bizarre. Cal's long-awaited chance to avenge a
painful betrayal unravels in violent chaos as he
desperately tries to hang on to the threads. Bringing
together a hit man, two mechanics, a canary, a car crusher,
twelve lost limbs and seventeen dogs, this new black comedy
by the author of Respectable
is
a macabre and twisted tale of revenge and redemption." --
from the National Arts Centre On The
Verge program.
17 Dogs is all about revenge. The central character is Cal,
who was betrayed by a business partner 44 years ago and has
not been able to let go of the bitterness of this event. It
has paralyzed his spirit, his energy, his aspirations, and
he has ended up running a second rate auto wrecking
business, housed in a greasy old quonset hut on the edge of
a large city, a business that in many ways is a physical
manifestation of Cal's own wretched psyche.
Cal has made a deal with a loquacious gangster named Ed. Ed
can bring in wrecked cars--with suspiciously unopenable
trunks--to have them demolished in Cal's automobile
crusher. In exchange, Ed will track down Lawson, the
business partner who betrayed Cal, and bring him to Cal so
he can exact his revenge.
Here's an excerpt from the first act where Ed announces to
Cal that he has found Lawson:
ED: Cal. We got him.
CAL: Huh? You got him. You got him?
ED: He’s in town.
CAL: In town...
ED: In town.
CAL: In town... what’s he doing in town?
ED: Business. Negotiations. Sports. Training. Relatives.
Vacation. Miscellaneous activities. Who knows?
CAL: Where? What are you going to do! Don’t let him go!
ED: Cal...
CAL: Aren’t you watching him?
ED: Cal!
CAL: You should be watching him. Who’s watching him?!
ED: CAL! Calm down!
CAL: You got the forces what are they doing?!
ED: CALM DOWN!
(Pause.)
You calm?
CAL: What’s he look like?
ED: Calm down.
(Pause.)
Now. Are you calm?
CAL: Yes I’m calm!
ED: I know calm. You are not calm.
CAL: I am calm!
ED: I’m not going on till you’re calm. Are you calm?
CAL: I’m calm. I’m calm. I’m calm.
(Pause.)
I’m calm.
ED: Are you really calm?
CAL: I’m calm!
ED: Okay. Stay calm.
CAL: What’s he look like?
ED: He looks very good.
CAL: What kind of state is he in?
ED: He has a lot of money.
CAL: I don’t want to hear about his money. I want to hear
about his state.
ED: Here’s your chicken.
(ED hands
him a box of take-out fried
chicken.)
CAL: Thank-you.
ED: His state. His footing? His...what? His juncture.
Well...
CAL: I bet he’s fat. I bet he’s got a big fat ass.
ED: Fat, no. No fat.
CAL: I looked at myself in the mirror the other day with my
shirt off. I have breasts.
ED: Oh no!
CAL: Not fat. Flabby?
ED: Flabby? Not even flabby. Very healthy looking. Bit of
an abdominal protrusion, bit of a belly, you know, but no
it’s a tiny...it’s a... it’s a... it’s a belly of
contentment, a belly... a flauntable belly— you know, as
indicative of worldy accomplishments. One of those bellies.
CAL: He’s got a gut.
ED: It’s not a gut. It’s not a gut in the least.
CAL: So he looks good.
ED: You are close to the same age? Yes? I stand the two of
you side by side. I look. I compare. I conclude, this: He
has fifteen years on you.
CAL: I don’t look that bad.
ED: You look your age. But money can buy time. Look at me.
How would you ever know that I am ninety-seven?
CAL: I don’t want to hear about his money. I don’t want to
hear about his health.
ED: What’s left? Love? I suppose. He has a wonderful wife.
Really really really really really really wonderful.
CAL: Quit—
ED: Kind, what? Well-read. Plain, flat out charming.
Classy. Sultry too. Sexy but motherly... exudes a...
beneficent, a magnanimous... warmth... Put her in a dark
room: she glows. In addition, she has a social and
environmental conscience. She’s a wildlife volunteer.
CAL: She is?
ED: Campaigning for the protection of the albino bears.
CAL: I don’t want to hear any of this…
ED: Money, health, love, what’s left? His spirituality. Is
he content with the universe and his place in it? Does he
have higher thoughts, thoughts of transcendence? Has he
achieved self-efficacy, self-actualization? Is he at peace
with his inevitable mortality? Can he die at ease with the
choices he has made which define his existence? These
questions I cannot answer.
CAL: He was a bastard!
ED: You want to hear something nasty. Something
disreputable. You would prefer rotting cuspids, varicose
veins, balding, pasty-gouty, ruddy jowled, beats his
children, loveless marriage to a grasping hag,
cancerous-anemic, arthritic and atrophied, hacking, blind
and bad smelling, classless, thoughtless, shallow,
insignificant... Nope. He’s a great guy. He has it all.
Wealthy, healthy, sexually emotionally satisfied; no
worries. No angst, unless its in his diary— we didn’t read
that. And you—
CAL: No!
ED: You! In contrast: Poor, hovelled, freezing, winter
jabbing through the cracks, waiting, festering, heartsick,
bitter... puddles of piss when you can’t make the john,
rotting from the inside weather faded from the outside.
Eating greasy fried chicken day after day after day after
day. You could change that. You could at least stop eating
so much fried chicken... I could bring you a bagel? A wrap?
A nice little salad? Greens. Vegetables. Asparagus!—That’s
what you need for your peeing problem.
CAL: No!
ED: You should be able to give up the chicken.
CAL: No!
ED: Bitterness. Stress. Poverty. Emotional isolation. A
diet of trans-fat and chicken grease. What do you expect?
The fountain of youth? —Let me have a wing. A wing once in
a while is okay.
CAL: How you going to get him?
ED: He has a pattern, every morning, 6:30 a.m. into his
rental car, a nice silver...
CAL: No—
ED: Off he goes. Guess where? Guess. Guess!
CAL: It’s not important!
ED: Juice. Exotic squeezable fruits. Freshly extracted. He
has a juice fetish, juice ritual. Obsessed with early
morning juice.
CAL: (Distracted
muttering.) Money
frickin’ health... contentment... flaunting his flippin’
gut... love... albino freakin’ bears...
ED: Cal. Focus on the juice.
CAL: Juice. He’s getting his juice, you just walk up and
take him?
ED: Parking lot out back. He always leaves his car
unlocked, the feeb.
CAL: That’s good to hear.
ED: It’s a rental; who cares? He gets back in the car with
his juice, we’ll be waiting for him in the back seat with
something pointy. We make him drive.
CAL: You don’t put a bag on his head.
ED: How is he going to drive with a bag on his head?
CAL: Or, you know, put him in the trunk?
ED: What for?
CAL: So he can’t see!
ED: Why shouldn’t he be able to see?!
CAL: He’ll see where he’s going!
(Pause.)
ED: Cal. Cal, how is this going to end? Huh? Let’s clarify.
We have a deal. You let me use your equipment; I find your
man. Right? A long time ago we made this deal.
CAL: I don’t remember.
ED: A looong time ago.
CAL: How long was it?
ED: A looooooooong time ago —well, not that long— Hey, I
trusted you on this, Cal.
CAL: Huh? I know. And I trusted you.
ED: Okay! With that, we’re off!
CAL: I can’t wait!
ED: I guess not: You’ve waited eons; you’ve earned your
pleasure!
CAL: Pleasure... Torture. I’m going to torture the man.
ED: Yes! And then?
(Pause.)
And then?
CAL: I’m going to kill him.
ED: Pick you up a juice?