The True Nature Of Oranges

Scene two. Very different.

Costa turns up.

He bursts through the curtain in dirty trousers and pink shirt. He is riding a bicycle.

Costa: I came, even though I was busy.

Candide: Is that Costa? We're all down here!

Costa lays down his bicycle and peers into the sink hole.

Old Lady (from the sink hole): He came!

The audience (unscripted): Hurrah! Costa came!

Costa: Okay, first things first. This'll cost money.

Candide: We don't have any money.

Costa: But you do have oranges and lemons, citrons, pineapples and pistachios lying on the ground. Why not sell them before they go off?

Old Lady: I knew Costa would be an inspiration! I'll get a basket.

Costa: Can you get out?

Old Lady: No.

Costa: You'll need a ladder.

Martin: We know.

Costa: I'll go to Bunnings, they stay open till nine. This will also cost money. I'll pre-sell the fruit for you, before I head off.

He pre-sells the fruit to the audience, making quite a lot of money. The pistachios sell well, the pineapples are surprisingly popular.

Costa: Back in a jiffy.

He heads off on his bike, in the direction of Bunnings.

Paquette (at the edge of the sink hole, looking out): Would anyone like an orange?

Brother Giroflée: We ought to wait for the basket.

Old Lady: I'll throw a few up.

One or two oranges are thrown out of the sink hole.

They are three nights old now, and dented. There is no great rush.

Martin (his head appearing at the edge of the sink hole): In reality, dear people, we only have oranges.

Audience member: But I ordered a pineapple!

Doctor Pangloss (his head also appearing): Now you appreciate the true nature of fiction. I suggest you take an orange, before they all go.

Some of the audience laugh. Not the ones that ordered pineapples, lemons, pistachios or citrons.

Costa returns with a ladder.

He lowers it into the sink hole.

The old lady climbs up.

Old Lady: Now to find a basket.

She disappears behind the Swiss cotton curtain.

A few drops of rain fall.

This is unexpected.

Thunder rolls in the distance.

Reeeaaaah!

The old lady (re-emerging with a basket): Fear not! We have our own tree.

Audience member: That won't protect us from lightning!

Old Lady: On the contrary. Lightning will not strike a laurel.

Audience member: What laurel?

Old Lady: At the risk of destroying a dramatic illusion, I might point out that our orange tree is played by a laurel.

Audience member: That's all very well but how do we know lighting won't strike a laurel?

Old Lady: It's common knowledge. The emperor Tiberius used to wear a laurel wreath on his head when there was thunder about.

The audience is placated.

A basket is brought up with the rest of the oranges.

There are more than enough.