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The Crazy One, Scene 4 - Not Especially Original View Comments Appearing in this scene:
HARRY - Larry's identical twin brother.
{The curtains open on what appears to be a psychiatrist's office, complete with black leather couch and high-backed upholstered chair.} {GENEVIEVE sits in a black high-back leather chair behind a contemporary black desk, shiny and curvaceous (the desk, that is--there's not a sharp corner on it) and immaculately clean. On her desk are (1) a name plate that says "Dr. Genevieve Wilkerson-Smythe, Ph.D., D.O." and (2) a designer desk lamp that seems to be made entirely of slender polished brass tubes, with a horizontal tube at the top bearing a fluorescent bulb (currently switched on, but the stage lights are bright enough to wash it out).} {GENEVIEVE seems to be in her late fourties, tidily dressed in a designer pant suit, with a single strand of pearls around her neck and matching pearl earrings. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun to reveal a rather sharply angular face.} {HARRY enters through a door at stage left, and pauses to close it behind himself.} GENEVIEVE: I appreciate your promptness, Mister Thompson. HARRY: It was either this, or another week in solitary. GENEVIEVE: {dryly} I'm flattered. HARRY: You should be. GENEVIEVE: {folding her hands atop her desk} Have a seat, Mister Thompson. HARRY: Can I crash on the couch, Doc? GENEVIEVE: If it'll make you more comfortable. HARRY: {sits on the chair} Then I'll just sit here. GENEVIEVE: Suit yourself. HARRY: You're the one in the suit. GENEVIEVE: Why do you insist on playing these little games, Mister Thompson? HARRY: Because I'm wacko. Nuts. Bananas. Slap some ice cream on me and I'll be a banana split. GENEVIEVE: As long as you continue to apply those derogatory labels to yourself, you won't make any progress towards your recovery. HARRY: Tell that to Tiny. He's the one who keeps calling me a klepto. GENEVIEVE: I have already discussed that with Aaron. But it's your behaviour that concerns me right now, Mister Thompson. HARRY: So Aaron's his real name, huh? I'll have to remember that. GENEVIEVE: Mister Thompson, did you hear what I just said? HARRY: {leans towards her, and lays his hands on the desk} Yes I did, Doc, and to be honest, I'm offended. GENEVIEVE: {gazes silently on HARRY until he removes his hands from the desk} And how did my remark offend you, Mister Thompson? HARRY: You said there's something wrong with my behaviour, Doc. I believe that a man is what he does. GENEVIEVE: So when somebody denounces what you do, you take it as a personal insult? Don't you think it's possible for a person to like you, but dislike what you do? HARRY: A man's character is best judged by his actions. Tell me, Doc--what better criteria is there than that? Certainly not skin color or gender. GENEVIEVE: Point made. But you haven't answered my question. HARRY: How can you like someone who does something you think is wrong? GENEVIEVE: I like you, Mister Thompson. HARRY: You're lying. GENEVIEVE: {blinks and slowly straightens} Excuse me? HARRY: You just lied to me, and that makes you a liar. GENEVIEVE: {indignant} How dare you, Mister Thompson. How dare you accuse me of lying, when you have no way of-- HARRY: So you take it as a personal insult? GENEVIEVE: I take it as an unfounded accusation, and that does insult me, yes. HARRY: So, do you still like me? GENEVIEVE: {long pause} Do you really want to know what I think of you? HARRY: It would be a refreshing change. GENEVIEVE: Alright; we'll play by your rules. Let's start with that little trick you and your brother played on Aaron last week. It was inappropriate behavior, and that's what earned you seven days of solitary confinement. I don't like what you did, Mister Thompson. It was deceptive and rather childish--and not especially original--but that doesn't mean I dislike you. HARRY: You must like deceptive children, then. GENEVIEVE: I don't like childishness or deception, Mister Thompson. HARRY: Then you can't possibly like me. GENEVIEVE: Do you see yourself as a deceptive child? HARRY: No, but apparently you think of me that way. GENEVIEVE: Have you forgotten who I am, Mister Thompson? I'm the expert witness who declared you mentally unfit to stand trial. It was my testimony that kept you out of prison-- HARRY: --and landed me in this place. {The ambient lighting starts to diminish very gradually.} GENEVIEVE: Are you telling me you would rather have gone to prison? You're the one who chose a visit with me over a another week of solitary confinement. So tell me, Mister Thompson. Can I take that as a sign that you like me? HARRY: {sarcastically} I fantasized about you all week, Doc. You're the woman of my wet dreams. GENEVIEVE: {tilting her head slightly} Now who's the liar? HARRY: What did you expect, that I would fall head-over-heels in love with my captor? That wouldn't be especially original. GENEVIEVE: Listen, Mister Thompson. The courts couldn't very well release you on your own cognizance. You do realize that, don't you? I arranged for you to go through our rehabilitation program because I truly think you can benefit from it. Incarceration only would have aggravated the problem. I hope you'll eventually see that I did you a favor. HARRY: Don't hold your breath. GENEVIEVE: {pauses} Do you like yourself? HARRY: What's not to like? Deceptive childish kleptos are my favorite people, especially at parties. GENEVIEVE: {shakes her head slowly} I think that's the real root of your problem, Mister Thompson. You can't admit that stealing is wrong, because then you'd have to admit that you are a thief, and you wouldn't be able to tolerate yourself. {By now the lights have gone down far enough so the desk lamp is noticeable. The indirect lighting from beneath the doctor's face casts unusual shadows on her sharp features. Harry looks at the shadows and begins trembling.} GENEVIEVE: No, I don't dislike you, Mister Thompson. I pity you. {TINY enters from stage left.} Aaron, would you escort Mister Thompson to his room? TINY: {looks at Harry} What's wrong with him? GENEVIEVE: I think he's finally discovered the root of his problem, and naturally it was quite upsetting. He's going to need plenty of rest, so I'm prescribing a sedative. See to it. TINY: Yes, ma'am. Come on, klepto, let's go. {HARRY, almost in a state of waxy catatonia, passively allows himself to be led offstage through the door at stage left. Now the ambient lighting is completely gone, and the only remaining light is that on the desk which casts Genevieve's features into sharp contrast.} GENEVIEVE: {quietly} Sweet dreams, Harry. The curtains close.
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