The Supine Cobbler. Jill Connell

what kind of funeral you want.

       Silence.

       A morning bird.

      LOVER: What are you thinking about?

      COBBLER: Lovin’.

       Gunshot. Blackout.

       Horses’ hooves morph into a train at full steam: loud. Or: an adventure song.

       One: Waiting Room

       Clinic door shuts. Clinic lights up on clinic chairs. Clinic eighties music: filtered, one world in remove. The Cobbler and Kid stand arrived. The Kid has the Cobbler’s bag slung over her shoulder.

       Punctuated by silences:

      KID: Is this the place?

      COBBLER: Yeah. What time is it?

       The Kid carries the Cobbler’s smashed iPhone. She checks it.

      KID: 7:15. What time’s our appointment?

      COBBLER: Noon.

      KID: Maybe we’re early.

      COBBLER: We’re supposed to come early.

      KID: Who’s that person?

      COBBLER: Doctor.

      KID: You know her?

      COBBLER: No.

      DOCTOR: You can have a seat.

       They go to sit.

      Hang your coat and hats.

       They do.

      Sit. It’s a waiting room.

       They sit. They wait.

       The Doctor removes her duster. Underneath she wears underwear and a soccer jersey that says GIRLS or MARADONA on the back. She transforms over the course of the play toward her role in the procedure.

       Crickets. Waiting.

       The Doctor puts a wolf pelt on the clothesline and travels it over to the waiting room. The Cobbler and Kid watch the wolf. The Doctor sits at her vanity smoking a water-vapour cigarette.

       Punctuated by silences:

      KID: This is a lot of waiting.

      COBBLER: It’s been about two minutes.

      KID: You think we’ll have to live here forever?

      COBBLER: No, it’s just a checkup.

      KID: You think she’ll know what you have?

      COBBLER: Yeah.

      KID: I don’t want to live here forever.

      COBBLER: We’ll leave today.

      KID: At least it’s not raining. At least we’re not starving. At least we don’t live in a palace. Did I say palace? I meant a townhouse. At least we don’t live in a townhouse beside a Walmart. Prison’s going to be bad. It’s going to be like prison. But at least we’ll have a place to live. What do you think you have?

      COBBLER: Nothing, really. I bet it’s really common.

      KID: Do you think I have it too?

      COBBLER: No.

      KID: It feels like I have it.

      COBBLER: You don’t have it.

      KID: I hope you don’t have something that costs a lot of money to fix. I hope you don’t have something that once you have it everyone hates you. I hope you have something so common there’s no name for it, something so common we don’t have to fix it because everyone has it.

      COBBLER: Yes.

      KID: Things could be worse. Still, things feel pretty bad. Which means they can only get better. Until we have to go to prison.

      COBBLER: We’re not going to go to prison.

      KID: I’m going to prison. I’m going to prison like five times.

      COBBLER: I’ll tell your parents.

      KID: I’ll tell my parents. Things are going to get so bad for me.

       The Cobbler looks at the Kid.

      I think this is a wolf. / Skin. Pelt.

      COBBLER: / I think so.

      KID: I want to put it on.

      COBBLER: I think it’s art.

      KID: Shit, she’s coming over.

       The Doctor enters.

      DOCTOR: Let’s see your ID.

       The Cobbler gets her wallet from the Kid.

      Two pieces.

       The Cobbler gives the Doctor two cards. The Doctor returns a card.

      This is expired. Health card.

       The Cobbler gives the Doctor her health card.

      You must be the shoemaker.

      COBBLER: I’m his daughter.

      DOCTOR: You’re not the shoemaker?

      COBBLER: Yes. My dad was the original shoemaker, like a true maker of shoes. That’s what he did. There’s some confusion. I am also a shoemaker.

      DOCTOR: Yeah, well, you are what you do.

      COBBLER: Or don’t do.

      DOCTOR: No. You are not what you don’t do.

      COBBLER: Well, I mostly make boots.

      DOCTOR: Cordovan, what’s that / Spanish?

      COBBLER: / Spanish. Extraction. It is. However, my first given name is after a quality my parents hoped I would embody and my middle given name is after my father, who was named after my grandmother’s lover, who was a film actor in the Westerns. The Italian Westerns.

      DOCTOR: I prefer the originals.

      COBBLER: Some people do.

      DOCTOR: Kurosawa.

      COBBLER: Some people don’t consider those the originals.

      DOCTOR: You speak Spanish?

      COBBLER: It comes to me when I need it.

      DOCTOR: Yo chingué a tu madre. I fucked your mother. That’s all I know how to say.

      COBBLER: My mother was from New Brunswick.

      DOCTOR: I grew up in New Brunswick.

       An improvisation where the Cobbler and Doctor continue about New Brunswick until a commonality is found. Perhaps a common thing they don’t know – the Cobbler has never been.

      I’d like to go back but I’m afraid of getting shot. I wear a bullet-proof vest – rabbit and Kevlar. I’ll show you later. I’m going to need you to fill out these forms. I’m going to call in your health card and eat a power bar.

      Who’s this?

      COBBLER: This is Everett the Kid.

      KID: How do you do.

      DOCTOR: I don’t want any trouble around here.

      COBBLER: She’s very reliable.

      DOCTOR: Good for you.

       The Doctor goes.

      COBBLER: (to Kid) It’s okay.