Pink Asparagus

(Dr. Crantz is a therapist, sitting in a lavish, maroon coloured, tufted back leather chair. He looks extremely tired. His office is dim and so are his spirits.)

(James enters– he looks characteristically miserable and muddled.)

Dr. Crantz: Afternoon, James…(yawns) I was a little surprised when I heard you booked an appointment. When we last spoke, you seemed certain that you would no longer be needing my services… I was looking forward to the break… What brings you in?

(James lies calmly on the chair– he was delighted that Dr. Crantz didn’t want to see him. James had been looking for something new to brood about…)

James: (SO sadly) I also thought we had the last of our meetings but…I have recently been very agitated with… well… (he becomes slightly frantic) with every aspect of my life, I should say. I’ve had an awakening; I read this sermon… Sinners in the Hand of an Angry God, by Jonathan Edwards. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with it…I had to read it for a class, but it has started to… ruin my whole life…

Dr. Crantz: (disinterested) That is awful… These silly little monologues shouldn’t be taken that seriously… did it really impact you so …? (Dozes off mid-sentence)

James: (Speaking softly, frightened now, James has many emotions) Yes… I remember the first time I came to read it. It was a rainy Thursday afternoon, and I was sitting in my kitchen sipping earl grey and just casually enjoying my existence. Or, I suppose, I was sitting in ignorance of the corruption of my existence… (gets slightly frantic again).

(Crantz is fully snoozing, but James doesn’t notice.)

James: (Distracted) So, as I previously mentioned, I was sitting in my kitchen…I remember it so vividly. I can still (looks up with an unsettling expression towards the audience) smell the dewiness … of the rain; I can still hear the (starts lightly tapping knees) pitter patter of the drops hitting my window sill. Sometimes… I can recall my inner sense of serenity in that moment. I was remarkably calm (takes a deep breath). It was the last time I felt any semblance of … serenity.

(A beat.)

James: Doc, I remember the moment, right before I opened The Norton Anthology: American Literature, shorter ninth edition… (almost a whisper) Beginning to 1865. I think my lips may have even been curved slightly upwards, almost a smile. And then, I opened it and my eyes hit the page and (holding back tears now) … I am sorry I have to leave the room at once, I need a moment with myself.

(James rushes out of the room)

(Crantz readjusts himself in his sleep)

(James re-enters, mumbling to himself, and gets back onto his couch without noticing Dr. Crantz’s slumber.)

James: I would rather not discuss the actual moments in which I first read the piece. I am not sure I can handle it (trembles). But I burned the midnight oil just hysterically rereading it. I took Edwards’ words at face value. I fell for his fallacy filled ramble. I mistook his repetition for argumentation. His various, near identical allegories paired with his endless threats shook me to my very core. The piece was so powerful, I came to tears at the very thought of it.

(A beat.)

James: (Choked up and on the verge of tears) “For ‘who knows the power of God’s anger?’’ (Edwards 202). My imagination runs wild with this line. How could I possibly know how agonizing God’s wrath can be? All I do is imagine the different ways in which God will punish me for my wickedness. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat… not even cherry pie… and I love cherry pie. Although the piece’s imagery did well to shake me to my core, the real fear came from what Edwards left for me to imagine. His words are taking my mind hostage. I haven’t a clue on how to cope. I keep hearing the line over and over again. I dream about it. I can never rid myself of it.

(A beat.)

James: And now, I live my days in constant fear of falling under. I’m already sentenced to hell. In fact, “[Hell] is extended abroad under [me]. There is the dreadful pit of the glowing flames of the wrath of God; there is hell’s wide gaping mouth open; and [I] have nothing to stand upon, nor anything to take hold of; there is nothing between [me] and hell but the air; it is only the power and mere pleasure of God that holds [me] up. (Looks up with the most smolder a person can possibly have) Sometimes I want to just get on my bike and go… somewhere… anywhere… but there’s no place where I can escape what’s up here (dramatically taps head) in my thoughts. My fear of God will always be with me.

(A beat.)

James: And I’m just in a very strange position now. I feel as though I need to begin following religion in order to avoid Hell, but I know that I would be miserable living under the confines of religion. I am so conflicted; I do not know what to do. I cannot enjoy life with or without religion and I can’t end my life because I’m scared of Hell. (Desperately) Oh, what do I do Dr.Crantz…

(Suddenly, an axe flies into the room, taking off James’ head. The axe misses Crantz but the sound of the slicing wakes him up. Crantz jumps up and James’ head rolls onto the chaise. The hardwood floor is covered in blood)

Dr. Crantz: (Stunned) JAMES! Oh my…(WHINY) How could you die on my floor? Do you expect me to clean up all this blood? Do I look like a sponge to you?!

(The ground splits open below Dr.Crantz making him fall into the depths of hell. The lights dim down, and the ghost of Jonathan Edwards appears, floating. An obnoxiously bright spotlight finds him, making the curls of his white powdered wig glisten beautifully)

Jonathan Edwards’ Ghost: (In a very calm and sweet voice) Always remember: “The wrath of God burns against [the wicked], their damnation does not slumber; the pit is prepared, the fire is made ready, the furnace is now hot, ready to receive them; the flames do now rage and glow. The glittering sword is whet, and held over them the pit hath opened its mouth under them. The devil stands ready to fall upon them, and seize them as his own, at what moment God shall permit him” (Edwards 194).

(The devil himself appears and stands, looking over the split in the floor. God appears in the top corner of the stage and gives the devil a friendly thumbs up. The devil rubs his hands together, smiles devilishly and enthusiastically jumps into the crack.)

Jonathan Edwards’ Ghost: (Repeatedly chants, in a quiet, breathy voice) “Their foot shall slide in due time” (Edwards 193).

(Edwards’ ghost disappears, there is a moment of silence with an empty spotlight and then the stage goes completely black.)

The End

Works Cited

Edwards, Jonathan. “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”. The Norton Anthology: American Literature Beginnings to 1865, edited by Robert S.Levine, 9th edition, W. W. Norton & Company, 2017, pp. 192-204.