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PEDDLER: Attraction! (She hesitates, does a double-take. The Peddler pulls a red flower out of his sleeve and presents it to her.) PEDDLER: Attraction. Ten dollars. Flirtation. For only twenty. WOMAN: I beg your pardon? PEDDLER: Would you like a sample? (He holds up one of the bottles.) WOMAN: I’m sorry. I don’t wear perfume anymore. PEDDLER: Everyone likes a little scent every now and then. On special occasions? WOMAN: I have to be somewhere. (She turns to walk away). PEDDLER: Escape! WOMAN: What did you just say? PEDDLER: How long has it been since you tried one of these? WOMAN: (looking at bottles) I’ve tried quite a few of these. PEDDLER: When was the last time you tried this one? (He holds out another bottle enticingly. He takes out the stopper and holds it out for her to smell. She does.) WOMAN: That almost smells real. PEDDLER: Of course it’s real. All the scents we sell are 100% organic. Distilled from only the finest essential oils. WOMAN: But then they fade, right? I know about these cheap knockoffs. They smell good for a little while--then ‘poof’, they evaporate. (The Peddler starts to look a little cold, blowing into his hands or shivering a bit.) PEDDLER: Suspicion. WOMAN: What? PEDDLER: If you would lend me your scarf for a moment I could perform a demonstration for you. (During this next bit the Peddler performs the “Disappearing Knot” trick using the Woman’s scarf.) PEDDLER: Is there a knot? There seems to be... but now it’s gone! All good things must come to an end... and then you wonder, was it ever there? Did it even happen? But then you remember the sights, the sounds and smells... and in the end it’s not the thing itself you’re left with, but the memory. The mind does not distinguish. What matters is that you have the memory of the pleasure you felt seeing the knot disappear. WOMAN: Nonsense! I want real experiences! Ones that will last, and things I can hold onto! (The Peddler stifles a cough or two. As he gives back her scarf their hands touch. As the Woman puts it back on she notices that it’s picked up some perfume.) PEDDLER: Do you like it? It’s one of my favorites--Nostalgia. Only $20. WOMAN: I don’t like looking back. (Beat). What else have you got? PEDDLER: Flirtation. $25. WOMAN: Doesn’t sound like it would last very long. PEDDLER: I’ve been wearing it ever since I got here. Can you smell it? (He tilts up his chin, exposing his throat to her. After a beat she leans in and inhales the subtle odor emanating from the pulse point on his neck. She closes her eyes and sways a little. He draws back. She awakens with a start.) WOMAN: (murmurs) That’s interesting. (Snapping out of it). But at that price it can’t be any good. PEDDLER: I try to give people what they want at an affordable price. WOMAN: Escape? Suspicion? Nostalgia? Is that what people really want? PEDDLER: That’s what sells. We tried selling friendship, happiness, compassion, but nobody wanted them. WOMAN: How much were they? PEDDLER: A little more expensive, but-- WOMAN: A little meaning a lot, right? (Points at another) How much is that one? PEDDLER: That’s Infatuation. Thirty dollars. WOMAN: Isn’t that a lot of money for something that comes and goes? (The Peddler performs a Disappearing Coin trick as he says this next bit.) PEDDLER: Everything comes and goes. We work our whole lives to make money even though this more than anything is here one minute and gone the next. WOMAN: Hm. Maybe it would be worth spending a little more for something better. How about this one? PEDDLER: Passion. Not everyone can afford it. (She unstoppers bottle and smells). WOMAN: I like it. How much? PEDDLER: I’m running low on that one. WOMAN: Are you saying you won’t sell it to me? Why not? What’s wrong with this bottle here? PEDDLER: It’s not right for everyone. WOMAN: You mean it’s not right for me. (Peddler shrugs imperceptibly and shivers) WOMAN: That’s not for you to say. Who are you to say what I can or can’t have? PEDDLER: After many years in this business I’ve developed an eye for... WOMAN: For quality? Is that what you were going to say? PEDDLER: For what people want. For what they can afford. WOMAN: I can afford Passion. How much is it? PEDDLER: (softly) I’m sure you can afford it. I just meant that you look like someone who might want something... more. WOMAN: What else is there? What more could there be? PEDDLER: Passion is made of spice, and cedar, and flowers from the far east. I had a scent once called Compassion, that many said was Passion’s opposite. Softer scents. Like sandalwood, musk, gardenias and sweet peas. And there was something extra in it, a special ingredient, that made it very pricey. WOMAN: Sounds alright. Where is it? PEDDLER: Sold out a long time ago. All of my suppliers say they can’t get it anymore. WOMAN: Well there has to be something, something better. C’mon, what have you got? Show me your best. PEDDLER: (bluntly) I don’t think you’d like it. WOMAN: Try me. PEDDLER: I’ve only got a little left. WOMAN: So, break out the good stuff! PEDDLER: The little I have left is reserved. WOMAN: That’s what they all say. Who do you have this paragon of perfumes put away for? PEDDLER: For the ones who really need it. Close friends. My mother. My daughter. WOMAN: (a little taken aback). What’s it called? PEDDLER: Empathy. WOMAN: (cynical) There’s one I’ve never heard of. What is it, some kind of new age aromatherapy? (The Peddler begins to pack up to go.) WOMAN: What are you doing? PEDDLER: I have to go. Time is money. WOMAN: Wait a minute, I'm talking to you. I might want to sample something. (Beat) Maybe that last one. PEDDLER: You don't understand. It only works on certain people. For others it can turn to poison. WOMAN: Oh come on. It’s only perfume, right? PEDDLER: People have no idea how much of ourselves we put into our work. It takes a lifetime to learn the art. But year after year our cheapest scents sell, and then our customers blame us when they don’t smell so good after awhile. But our better scents are too subtle, and so we have to mark them down and give them away as samples. Do you know how much Empathy I’ve given away? WOMAN: How much? PEDDLER: Too much. It’s almost all gone. WOMAN: But you have a little left? So, try it on me. (She reaches for the bottle. He doesn’t give it to her but instead opens it and dabs one drop on her wrist before closing the bottle and putting it back into his jacket pocket.) WOMAN: How do you like it? PEDDLER: That’s not for me to say. WOMAN: I like it. I’ll take it. How much? PEDDLER: It’s priceless. WOMAN: I don’t believe you. Tell me what it’s really worth. PEDDLER: You can’t put a price on it. WOMAN: What are you really trying to sell, and for how much? PEDDLER: It’s free. WOMAN: Nothing’s ever free. PEDDLER: (Sighs, then softly but without conviction) Yes, you’re right. (He pulls his coat more tightly closed.) WOMAN: I knew it. Okay, tell me what it really costs. PEDDLER (sighs) You’re right. It’s part of a package. You have to buy all these others first. If you want empathy first you have to buy attraction, flirtation, envy, suspicion, jealousy, passion, rejection and loneliness. WOMAN: I tried them all, and I don’t like them. This is the only one I want. I can afford to pay. Can’t you see that? Look at your clothes. Now look at mine. This coat alone cost me hundreds. PEDDLER: Why do you want Empathy? To add to your collection? WOMAN: You’re the only one I ever met who was selling this. PEDDLER: I can’t sell this. I have to save it. WOMAN: There must be something I could give you for it. Tell me what you want. (The Peddler starts to leave. The Woman stops him.) WOMAN: Wait. How much do you want for it? I’ll write you a cheque. (The Peddler keeps walking). WOMAN: Do you take credit? I have it all. Diner’s Club. Visa. Mastercard. American Express. Green, Gold and Platinum. (The Peddler keeps walking, though he’s so cold it’s difficult for him to move). WOMAN: You’re cold. Why don’t you take a taxi? (Taking out cell phone) I’ll call one for you. (The Peddler is almost off the stage.) WOMAN: STOP! (The Peddler stops and is almost overcome by a coughing fit. The Woman takes off her overcoat and puts it around his shoulders.) WOMAN: Here, take this. PEDDLER: It’s your coat, you need it more than I do. WOMAN: No. I’m not cold anymore. (She starts to walk away. The Peddler feels a lump in one of the coat’s pockets.) PEDDLER: Come back. You left something behind. (He pulls a large bottle of Empathy out of the pocket and holds it out to her.) PEDDLER: This must be yours. (She reaches out to take it. Their hands touch. Blackout.) |
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