Act V, Scene 1
The Tragedy of Macdrumpf
FBI Headquarters, midnight.
Enter a PSYCHOLOGIST and a JANITOR
PSYCHOLOGIST
I have two hours watched, but can perceive
No truth in your report. I’ll stay no more.
JANITOR
Nay, doctor, for Asclepius’s sake,
Whose healing arts you work on troubled minds,
Pray wait, and hear again my troubled tale.
PSYCHOLOGIST
As I am staff psychologist, I must.
JANITOR
For fifty years I’ve washed these storied floors.
Tis grim and gummy work and yet I trow
No greater joy hath any king than I,
Such agents have I known! This crystal vial
Doth hold the dirt tracked in by Joe Pistone,
Whom some called Donnie Brasco; here the mud
From valiant Joaquin Garcia’s shoe
The day he brought the vile Gambinos down.
PSYCHOLOGIST
Tis mute Macmuller, though, of whom you spoke.
There’s not a thought beneath that silver hair
That dares escape to cross his moatlike lip
He only speaks through statements triple-vetted
Before they’re filed, and so he files his mind.
JANITOR
Since elf-eared old Macsessions did resign,
Macmueller ne’er goes home, but builds a bed
From rolls of bubble-wrap, then builds to warm his frame
A blanket from a blazer, and a bag
Of shredded paper for his weary head.
I’ve heard him snore, then cease, then madly laugh
Then open slam his door on outward wall,
Ere glassy eyed, in revenantine mood,
Asleep, he stalks the halls like Tarquin’s ghost.
‘Tis strange. Such acts bespeak a troubled mind
With burdened soul. Perhaps Lady Macdrumpf.
PSYCHOLOGIST
No soul hath she to burden.
JANITOR
That makes sense.
Outside, a snore.
PSYCHOLOGIST
Mark you that?
Outside, a laugh.
JANITOR
And a laugh!
Outside, a slam.
PSYCHOLOGIST
A door slammed outward- see: Macmueller comes!
Enter in a trance MacMueller, gesturing.
JANITOR
Why waves he thus?
PSYCHOLOGIST
‘Tis like he has a room
Bestrewn on every wall with index cards
Newspaper clippings, photos, bits of string
Such as obsessives have on CSI.
JANITOR
No agent does these things.
PSYCHOLOGIST
He hunts his prey
On inward walls which none but he can see.
MACMUELLER
Yet here’s a plot!
JANITOR
He speaks!
MACMUELLER
Did no one hear?
Right now, right on TV, the rich Macdrumpf
Did ask for Russian help, but heard you not?
Unprompted, he just did it. Ah, but wait:
His people now explain it was a joke.
Then what’s the punchline, Donald?
PSYCHOLOGIST
These are things
Not meant for common ears.
MACMUELLER
Another plot!
Macmanafort with oligarchs consorts.
Macsessions too! Is none but me amazed?
Will Ashton Kutcher soon pronounce me Punk’d?
JANITOR
Ah welladay!
MACMUELLER
Is noble Comey fired, whom Macdrumpf
Did loudly praise, though hid he by the drapes?
I think I know the cause. Macmueller, hold.
I’ll not to judgment leap. What’s on TV?
PSYCHIATRIST
No, no-
MACMUELLER
Ah, Lester Holt! I’ll watch to lift my mood.
Good Christ! You saw that, right? Ashton, come out!
But hold, a call! Rod Rosenstein, hello!
I saw it on TV just now. I know.
Yea, Special Counsel? Me? Yes, Rod, of course.
Just send me all the files I should read.
JANITOR
Nay, read them not! Your noble heart will burst.
MACMUELLER
A plot! Yet here’s one more! Yea, plots in plots!
These secret talks, those plans, this cash, o Gods!
He’s ten times guilty, nay, a thousand times!
Take Judas, Brutus, Arnold in one hand
Macdrumpf put in the other and, forsooth,
In traitorous pursuits he beats them all!
Stupidity and balls make common cause
Within him, so with every public act
Of treason, we say “no one is that dumb.”
My mind shall break into a thousand flaws
Or else I’ll weep! Oh Rod, I shall go mad!
JANITOR
Pray, wake him!
PSYCHIATRIST
None dare stir him now.
JANITOR
O cruel!
MACMUELLER
What dear? Warm milk? Anon, my love, anon.
I had the strangest nightmare only now-
The universe had broken and we few
Who noticed it just screamed and screamed and screamed
Thank God it was a dream. You want some toast?
Exit Macmueller, still in a trance.
PSYCHOLOGIST
And will he to his office now return?
JANITOR
And on the morrow wake up full refreshed.
PSYCHOLOGIST
Macdrumpf a traitor. Ne’er would I have thought
That one so traitor-seeming would, in truth
Be just what he appeared.
JANITOR
Whom should we tell?
PSYCHOLOGIST
We tell? Nay, speak to no one of this night.
The ravings of a dreamer give no proof
Of aught but that his privacy was pierced
By two unwelcome witnesses.
JANITOR
But see-
A Post-it from his trouser pocket fell.
And here, in pen, some numbers and a name.
Maccohen. Is he not Macdrumpf’s old friend?
PSYCHOLOGIST
And lawyer both.
JANITOR
Lord knows what these portend.
But I must to my mopping task return.
PSYCHIATRIST
And homeward, I. We’ll learn what we will learn.
Exeunt omnes.
