ACT II, Scene II
Court of MacBen’s Castle
MacBen: Who’s there? What, ho!
Lady MacBen: Alack, I am afraid they have awakened.
MacBen: Who?
Lady MacBen: MacDuff. And his angry hordes.
MacBen: Then they are on to us! And the murder!
Lady MacBen: No, far worse. It is the team’s performance that hath spurred their anger. Specifically, your loyalty to Sir Farrell.
MacBen: Serious? Did you remind them we just won a World series two years ago with Sir Farrell at the helm?
Lady MacBen: Still their anger runs deep. No water will clear us of this deed. They are coming for blood.
MacBen: Let me talk to them. I’m sure they’ll listen to reason.
[MacBen walks to the castle window, looking down at the angry mob below. Heading the mob is Macduff.]
Macduff: There he is! The one who brought the Sandoval upon us!
MacBen: Guys, listen. There’s still plenty of time for us to turn this around. It’s only July, and I’ve got nothing but faith in Sir Farrell. He’s our guy.
[Crowd hurls spears toward the castle window.]
Macduff: Enough, you lily-liver’d scoundrel! And seriously — squandering JBJ with the Knights of Pawtucket while the vile Ramirez insults us in left? You deserve a fool’s death for that alone! Never mind the king’s ransom paid to Rusney of Castillo!
MacBen: Okay, bear with me here. While it’s easy to say Hanley Ramirez is a bad fit for left field, I prefer to think that left field itself may not be right for Hanley Ramirez. Let’s put the blame where it belongs, people.
Lady MacBen: They’re torching the Panda Hat stand. I’m fucking out of here. [exeunt]
MacBen: All I can tell you is right now, we’re committed to Hanley in left field and trying to help him be the best left fielder he can be.
Macduff: He’s delusional. Get the log!
[Sounds of a large wooden log being rammed against the castle doors.]
MacBen: This is one of the most soundly constructed teams in baseball. I honestly believe that we are capable of winning any night of the week. Although mostly on Thursdays.
[Sound of log crashing through the castle doors.]
MacBen: And I’m not sure how anyone can simply dismiss Joe Kelly after only a year’s worth of evidence. Just look at Rome. That shit took decades to build.
[Sound of angry mob heading up the stairs.]
Porter: Mi’lord, they’ve set Wally afire.
MacBen: Why am I the only one who gets it? With transition comes a lower level of performance. We’re close to getting fully past those transitions and having a better sense of where everything is. Everything is awesome!
[Angry mob bursts into the room.]
MacBen: Hold your ground, motherfuckers. Unless your armor can handle this!
[Hurls a souvenir brick at Macduff’s chest. Brick tatters to dust and falls away.]
MacBen: Shit.
Macduff: THIS IS FOR PORCELLO! [Draws sword, lunges at MacBen, knocking him to the ground.]
MacBen: That I might die… never knowing The Large Father’s true age… [falls off stage.]
Malcolm: Well, that’s that. With MacBen dead and Sir Farrell lost on the Isle of Napoli, we can surrender the team to a better, perhaps wiser leader.
Macduff: All in good time. Right now, I want you to get a message to Lord Gardenhire.
[curtain.]
