Bombay to Beijing by Bicycle (35 page)

RUSSELL: YES?!

RACHAEL: Well … I want to cycle with you.

RUSSELL: What?

RACHAEL: I said, I want to cycle with you all the way to Beijing!

RUSSELL: (
Stricken
) Oh, I thought you just wanted to hike Nepal for a month and then off to Europe.

RACHAEL: Well, can I?

RUSSELL: (
Pause
) Ssssurre. It’ll be … GRREAT! Hahahah … ughhhh …

Falls into malarial fever.

He reaches under the bed and retrieves a water bottle. He tries to drink it but it’s empty. He looks at the bottle, at his groin, at the bottle, then at his groin again. He gets up and back to the audience, tries to piss.

DR CHAWLA: (
Whispers
) Mariji Coooola!

RUSSELL: (
struggle with pissing
) This is not going to work.

OBI WAN: (
head to left
) Use the Force, Luke. The Force!

RUSSELL: (
head over shoulder to right
) Oh, thanks. Aagghhh!!

Finished, he turns around. He sniffs it.

RUSSELL: (
recoils
) Ugh!

He moves downstage, contemplates it, then …

RUSSELL: (
To himself
) One, two, three –

He stops himself. RUSSELL’S FATHER, to the left of him, forces it down his throat, holding the back of his head.

FATHER: (
Pause
) Come on, mate. It’s good for ya son! GOOD FOR YA! COME ON! Just think of it as … Tequila.

RUSSELL: Hey, Tequila! (
visual cue for techs
)

MUSIC: ‘TEQUILA’

He dances, offering it to the audience. He pours salt on his hand (to audience). As he goes to drink the water and on ‘TEQUILA’ in the song –

The seal breaks and the urine splashes all over him. He reaches for a lemon, eats it then spits it out. A beat. He throws up.

JOURNAL: (
coughing, wiping his moustache, feverish and mad
) Damn that monkey bite! 1927, Borneo. An O-rang-o-tang. Continuing with their adventure, Russell and Rachael head over the Himalayas and into India. (
He coughs
) Damn Alpine air. (
puffs until he is happy
).

RACHAEL struggles, cycling legs swaying in opposition to the swing of her handlebars.

RACHAEL: Are we there yet?

RUSSELL: Not yet. Hurry up.

RACHAEL: I can’t. My legs are killing me. I can’t go much further.

RUSSELL: This is what cycling is all about, Rachael. (
Pause
) Alright. Let’s stop. Again. (
make sure you get this line right for call back
)

RACHAEL: (
slumps on the bicycle handles – she really doesn’t want to cycle any further so sell it to RUSSELL
) Ah, wouldn’t it be nice if we just spent a whole week up here together, in each other’s arms, making love in the mornings, going for walks in the mountains in the afternoons.

RUSSELL: (
Logical
) A whole week! It’ll be snowing in Beijing if we keep wasting time!

RACHAEL fumes. She looks forward, saying nothing.

RUSSELL: Come on let’s get moving.

RACHAEL
looks straight ahead, refusing to move.

RUSSELL
looks at her imploringly then at the road.

RUSSELL: Rachael?

RACHAEL: Just go ahead without me.

RUSSELL: (
He looks to the road, considering it
) You know I can’t do that. This is India. Women don’t travel by themselves let alone cycle alone.

RACHAEL: I’m fine!

RUSSELL: Okay … But can you at least cover your ti … T-shirt.

RACHAEL: I said I’m fine!

RUSSELL: Okay you’re fine, fine … fine! (
Russell cycles
)

JOURNAL: Half an hour later Russell heard Rachael scream.

RACHAEL: AAAGH!

JOURNAL: A man cycled past.

RUSSELL: (
Russell stops
) What happened?

RACHAEL: He touched me … on my tits.

RUSSELL: (
To the audience
) MY TITS! ARRGHH!

MUSIC: CHASE MUSIC

JOURNAL: Faster and faster he went. The tyres hummed, the handlebars howled. Russell was a Flying Fortress from Hell! … (
he pushes a button his bike ‘turbo’ and goes faster, his cheeks move back, his eye pops out, hits the sound barrier ‘You are going into another time dimension’
) Then he saw him in his sights, one Indian bicycle squeaking on the wind.

SFX: INDIAN BICYCLE SQUEAKING

RUSSELL: YOU!

INDIAN CYCLIST: (
staring eyes, husky
) I only did it for the knowledge!

RUSSELL: I’LL GIVE YOU KNOWLEDGE! (
he grabs a stick and sticks it in his spokes
)

INDIAN CYCLIST: AAGGHH!

RUSSELL: (
laughs manically
)

MUSIC: CHASE MUSIC ENDS.

JOURNAL: (
be calm – coolly observes it
) Good work, Russell. Reminds me of the Amritsar Massacre 1919. It was dawn. Thousands of Punjabi families refusing to move. Without warning we opened fire. Hundreds killed! I got a Victoria Cross for –

RACHAEL: Russell!

RUSSELL: Yes, darling?

RACHAEL: You idiot.

RUSSELL: What?

RACHAEL: That was completely unnecessary.

RUSSELL: But, but … but they touched you! On the tits!

RACHAEL: I said I’d handled it.

RUSSELL: You mean they handled you!

RACHAEL: Oh!

TONI: Hiya Russell!

RUSSELL: (
weakly
) Hi.

TONI: (
Over familiar
) Oh, and this must be Rachael. I’ve heard so much about you.

RACHEAL: (
preening – tits out, head side to side – she gives a fake smile
) Russell. Who is this? How does she know my name?

RUSSELL: (
Pause
) Well … it’s like this–

TONI: (
chummy
) Your boyfriend is a right nutter. Can drink me under the table. And that’s where we like them, eh? Hahaha!

RACHAEL: Oh!

RUSSELL: No! It’s not what you think.

RACHAEL cycles off. RUSSELL cycles after her.

TONI: Laters!

JOURNAL: (
binoculars – peering at them
) That night Russell and Rachael slept on opposite side of the bed.

RACHAEL: Russell! Don’t touch me.

RUSSELL: (
No means yes tone
) Oooh! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!

RACHAEL: (
Slaps him
) Don’t touch me. I mean it!

RUSSELL: Alright. (
Pause
) Nothing happened.

RACHAEL: Whatever.

She pulls at the net. He pulls back. She pulls back again.

RACHAEL: Don’t take all of the mosquito net.

RUSSELL: You should’ve bought one in Kathmandu like I said. (
Sighs
) Just take it then.

Mosquito flies at the audience.

MOSQUITO: (
Nasally
) Zzz. Red leader to blue leader. We have a male and female sleeping. ZZZZEEE

MOSQUITO2: (
Texan accent – ‘in for the kill’ psycho
) Roger, Red Leader. Going in for the female. ZZZZZZZ

He dives.

MOSQUITO: Pull up, Blue leader! You’re gonna hit the net.

MOSQUITO2: ZZZZZ. I cannnnnntttt! (
Give a look of terror
) AHAAHAGH!

He splats, face distorted by the net.

MOSQUITO2: Hot-digga-dee.

MOSQUITO: ZZZZ. Oh, dear. Scout four. Try the other side.

SCOUT4: ZZZ. Yes, sir. ZZZ.

He hovers.

SCOUT4: ZZZ. Scout four to Red leader. You’re gonna like this, sir. The male … he’s bald. ZZZ

MOSQUITO: BALD? BUFFET!! (
the squadron flies in and starts biting
) Oh, look. It’s Ms Anopheles!

JOURNAL: Ah yes, the Anopheles mosquito. The only mosquito that passes on the dreaded malaria.

ANOPHELES: (
sultry
) ZZZ. Stand back boys. He’s mine. ZZZ.

(
sings
) I am Anopheles mosquito

I’m comin’ to suck on you!

ANOPHELES goes down on an audience member.

RUSSELLfarts and the mosquitoes fly away in disgust.

JOURNAL: The next morning …

RUSSELL’S face is all bumped up from the mosquito bites.

RUSSELL: Rachael! RACHAEL!

RACHAEL: Don’t touch me!

RUSSELL: Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!

RACHAEL: AAGGHHHHH –

RACHAEL turns into JOURNAL on his horse.

JOURNAL: (
to the audience
) You’re probably wondering right now ‘Is that flabby waste of organs going to make to China?’ (
Holds up binoculars
). Another month goes by. It is the 30th September – six weeks away from the start of China’s harsh winter. But right now the dreaded monsoon is upon them as they enter Pakistan.

MUSIC: ADHAN – MUSLIM CALL

JOURNAL: It is frightfully hot. The road bubbles and tempers are frayed. (
swats a fly off his neck
)

RUSSELL is really sick. He’s trying to stay on the bike. A boy stops him, holding up his hand.

RUSSELL: Are we there yet?

RACHAEL: Not yet.

RUSSELL: But my head. It’s killing me.

RACHAEL: That’s what cycling is all about, Russell. Alright. Let’s stop again.

PAKISTANI KID: Hello, sir. One school pen?

RUSSELL: (
feverish
) I don’t have a pen!

PAKISTANI KID: One school pen, sir?

RUSSELL: I said I DON’T HAVE A SCHOOL PEN.

PAKISTANI KID: Only one school pen, sir.

RUSSELL: LOOK, I DON’T HAVE A SCHOOL PEN, OKAY!

PAKISTANI KID: (
pause
) Pleeeease, sir. Only one –

RUSSELL: Would you just FUCK OFF!

RACHAEL: (
stopping her bike
) Russell! Don’t talk to that boy like that. What’s wrong with you?

RUSSELL: Nothing! I’ve got a headache.

RACHAEL: You’re really feverish. Maybe you’ve got a cold.

RUSSELL: In 50 degree heat? Don’t be stupid.

PAKISTANI KID: Just one school pen, sir.

RUSSELL: I’LL GIVE YOU A SCHOOL PEN YOU LITTLE – (
goes to pick up a stone
)

RACHAEL: RUSSELL! STOP THAT!

BUTCHER: (
Slower voice, high status
) What are you doing?

RUSSELL: (
hiding the stone
) He was asking me for … pens.

BUTCHER: So? It’s no reason to come to Pakistan and disgrace her like this. You should be ashamed of yourself. Look at you. A grown man acting like a … a deadshit.

RUSSELL: But he –

BUTCHER: So?

RUSSELL: (
Voice changes into that of TONI
) His asking for peeeens you know! Drives me barmy!

BUTCHER: You are crazy man! Be calm. (
Smile
) Smile at them. Let them know that foreigners are good people. (
Drop smile
) Or leave Pakistan! … Which country?

RUSSELL: Australia.

BUTCHER: Oh … you have one school pen?

RUSSELL: AAAAGHHH!!!

RACHAEL: Russell! Get a hold of yourself. Show some respect.

RUSSELL: What do you know! WHAT DO YOU KNOW?! (
RUSSELL starts sounding like a mosquito
) I’m so sick of your whining in my ear, slowing me down, zzzzzzzz! Not … not letting me WRITE!

RACHAEL: Yeah, well, some writer you are.

RUSSELL: Ooh! You know something … you know something! I never wanted you to cycle with me anyway!

RACHAEL cycles away, distraught. Minimal.

RUSSELL: That’s it. Cycle off. See if I care … I’m becoming like my dad! (
crestfallen
) Rachael? … my love.

JOURNAL: (
On horse
) On the contrary. I’m the one you love.

RUSSELL: What are talking about?

JOURNAL: I knew it the day you walked in to ‘Once Were Rajas’ book antiquarian. The way you picked me up so tenderly and fingered my pages –

RUSSELL: Nnnnoooo!

JOURNAL: You love me more than anything in the world. I am the key to your fame, fortune … day time television. Don’t you want to show the world your brilliance?

RUSSELL: Yeah, I’ll show ’em. It’s all in here.

MUSIC: EERIE – THROUGH SCENE

RUSSELL looks for brilliance in the writing but can’t find it anywhere. It’s all shit.

TONI: Show ’em. Travellers like me. Haha!

RUSSELL: No! I’m not like you.

TONI: Yes, you are ya fat twat!

RUSSELL: Noo!

PORTER: (
slowly
) Welcome to Bombay. (
menacing
) Shit off to Pakistan!

RUSSELL: What’s … going on?

ASIF: Bugger ya!

RACHAEL: (
lunging out, graceful
) Russell!

RUSSELL: (
look at three points
) Rachael?

INDIAN: Hello, sir. Which country?

RUSSELL: Shut up! Get out of my head! Leave me alone!

DR CHAWLA: (
slow
) Congratulations. You are having the –

TONI: (
snake wave with arm
) KUNDULINI!

RUSSELL’S FATHER: Should’ve stayed at home with a stiffy like mine! (woof!)

RUSSELL: You’re dead!

DR CHAWLA: Many people dying, Mr Russell. Here. Drink my piss.

RUSSELL: Naah!

JOURNAL: Go on Russell! Show 
’
em!

RUSSELL: Yes, I’ll show ‘em. I’ll show THE WORL–

He passes out.

MUSIC: EERIE – END

RUSSELL’S FATHER: (
slaps him on the face gently, caring
) Get up son. Get up!

RUSSELL: Dad?

RUSSELL’S FATHER: Get on the bike, son. That’s it mate. There’s a hospital half a kilometre away.

RUSSELL: Thanks, dad.

He gets back on.

RUSSELL’S FATHER: And son.

RUSSELL: Dad?

RUSSELL’S FATHER: (
pause
) I love ya.

RUSSELL: (
struggles
) I love you too, Dad.

RUSSELL’S FATHER: And son.

RUSSELL: Yes, dad?

RUSSELL’S FATHER: Look out –

RUSSELL runs into something.

RUSSELL: AGGH! Rachael! Rachael! (crying)

Roll then stand up as JOURNAL.

JOURNAL: Pull yourself together, soldier. (
hold moment
) She’s gone. She’s gone.

RUSSELL creeps up on him

RUSSELL: You’ve ruined everything!

JOURNAL: She’s gone.