Chapter Text
Two PROTAGONISTS passing the time in a blank space.
Their appearances are poorly defined but they both have sexy boots, tight trousers, and fantastic hats with plumes. Each of them has a stack of playing cards, with one more stack between them.
GUILDENSTERN's stack is very short, perhaps three cards.
ROSENCRANTZ's stack is very tall.
They are playing a betting game: One will say a suit or a number, then the other will draw a card from the center stack and show it. The resolution of every round is that ROSENCRANTZ (ROS) puts the card onto his own stack. They have been doing this for some time.
ROS is humming to himself and his gaze wanders between turns. He is passing the time.
GUILDENSTERN (GUIL) is focused and intense. He is not angry per se, but he seems worried. When he names a card, he clearly thinks about it, and his attention hangs on the outcome.
ROS: Ten.
GUIL hands over the card.
GUIL: Spade.
ROS looks at the card and keeps it for himself.
ROS: Two.
Again.
GUIL: Diamond.
Again.
ROS: Five.
GUIL: Heart.
ROS: Two.
GUIL: This is absurd. Spade.
ROS: Jack.
GUIL: By sheer probability... Oh, never mind. Club.
ROS: Two of Clubs.
GUIL: Now you're just showing off.
ROS: (pointing) What's that, over there?
GUIL turns to look. ROS takes a few cards from his stack and drops them onto GUIL's. GUIL looks at the stacks, then at ROS, then sighs.
GUIL: Again, that would only be subtle if I'd won a single guess. Or you'd lost one. Ever. (He gives up.) Red.
It is not red.
ROS: Ace.
GUIL: Maybe you're psychic. But then I would have to be whatever is the opposite of psychic. Is there an opposite of psychic? Or just very, very unlucky? Or doomed?
ROS waits with his hand over the card deck.
GUIL: Spade.
ROS: Ace.
GUIL: I've never really believed in psychic phenomena. Or at least I don't think I have. Club.
ROS: Ace.
GUIL: If you were actually having premonitions, would you tell me? Because I'm pretty sure that would count as cheating. Diamond.
ROS: Hm? Oh, I'm just guessing, really. First thing that pops into my head. Ace.
GUIL: First thing that pops into your head. A stray flight of fancy, that always comes home to roost. Augury, then. Heart.
ROS: Ace.
GUIL picks up the next card, which is visibly an ace of spades, and studies it.
GUIL: Five aces.
ROS: Sorry.
GUIL: I'm not sure how it's your fault.
The lighting slowly shifts and dims to highlight a glowing screen of considerable size.
ROS: What's that?
GUIL: You needn't give me any more cards. It doesn't matter.
ROS: No, really, what's that?
They both turn to look at the screen. On it, ROS and GUIL, in drabber clothing, sit by a campfire while spinning coins. Until noted otherwise, the movie continues playing.
GUIL: ... Us, apparently.
ROS: But we're here.
GUIL: Apparently.
ROS: Look, I'm winning at coins too.
GUIL: Apparently.
The movie soundtrack amplifies momentarily to make the dialog clear.
SCREEN-GUIL: This is not the first time we've spun coins!
ROS: You're right, you know. We've spun coins loads of times.
GUIL: I didn't -- You know I'm not the one that said that. (He is trying to reassure himself.) And have we? It's cards today. Have there been other days?
ROS: There must have been. I mean, there's one of them. (A broad gesture at the screen.) We just chose cards today to liven it up a bit. I mean, heads, heads, heads, it got old.
GUIL: A moment ago, you exclaimed in wonder. Look, you said, I'm winning at coins, too. Now it's history, fact, indelible canon. You saw it happen, it must have happened, it happened, you remember the happening. Does none of this seem strange?
ROS: (He seems uncomfortable with existential interrogation and offers the deck of cards again.) It's your guess.
GUIL: And your guess is as good as mine? But my guess is, demonstrably, not as good as yours! (He thinks for a moment, then puts his hand on the deck. Their hands touch.) You guess it first.
ROS: What?
GUIL: My card. You guess my card first, then I'll guess it.
ROS: (pulling away) I can't guess your card, it's yours!
GUIL: And?
ROS: And... it just doesn't work like that. That's not how it works.
GUIL: (gathers his patience) It's a game. We can change the rules, I hope?
ROS: (shrugs, still uncomfortable) Hope is a thing with feathers.
GUIL: And we are back to augury. We're going in circles, and all morning my ear has caught echoes of the sound of drums. (He paces.) This is pointless. There must be something else we could be doing.
The screen brightens for emphasis, cutting to window shutters shaking violently, bright light streaming through the slats into a dark room. GUIL stands bolt upright, not noticing the change.
SCREEN-GUIL and GUIL: (in unison) There was a messenger.
SCREEN-VOICE: Rosencrantz! Guildenstern!
SCREEN-GUIL and GUIL: We were sent for.
GUIL wheels to stare at the screen, shocked. The movie has cut back to the two of them riding horses through the woods.
ROS: We've got horses, at least. That saves us the trouble of walking all the way there.
GUIL: (Wild-eyed, he's having trouble keeping up.) All the way where?
ROS: No idea. We haven't got there yet. (He starts messing with his fingernails, losing interest in the screen.) Maybe it's like the monkeys.
GUIL: The monkeys.
ROS: (musing) I thought you must have got that one a bit wrong, really. You said it takes six monkeys, but it's got to take at least a dozen.
GUIL: Twelve monkeys.
ROS: Maybe even more. We'd spend a fortune on typewriters. And it would take ages. By the time they finished, we'd be dead. And then where would we be? (He finishes with his nails.)
GUIL: By your logic, impoverished and buried in monkeys.
ROS: And alternate edits. (A nasty thought strikes him.) Imagine the papercuts!
GUIL: (He turns his attention back to the screen.) It seemed so important.
ROS: What did?
GUIL: The messenger. This morning?
ROS: Oh -- That man, he woke us up. (The screen volume begins to rise again, imperceptibly at first. They are on-script now, the screen actors moving their mouths in sync.)
GUIL: The messenger.
ROS to SCREEN-ROS: (ROS begins the line, the voices blend, and SCREEN-ROS finishes it, ROS mouthing along without emotion. Screen volume continues to rise.) That's it -- pale sky before dawn, a man standing in his saddle to bang on the shutters... and then he called our names. You remember that -- this man woke us up.
SCREEN-GUIL: Yes. (GUIL does not match him, and waves a hand in front of ROS, trying to get a response.)
SCREEN-ROS: (very loud now) We were sent for.
SCREEN-GUIL: Yes.
SCREEN-ROS: That's why we're here. Traveling. It was a matter of extreme urgency. (GUIL leaps forward and shakes ROS violently until ROS snaps out of it, struggles to his feet, and pushes GUIL away. They both watch the screen.) A royal summons, his very words -- official business and no questions asked -- up we get and off at the gallop, fearful lest we come too late!
The movie cuts off abruptly, leaving an echoing silence and dark screen.
ROS: (straightening his clothing) That was excessive.
GUIL: You are not an impartial witness. (He tilts his head, listening.) Do you hear drums? (They both stand and listen in perfect silence.)