A large, expensively equipped country kitchen. 58 year old overweight Politician, dressed in his boxer shorts and vest, is standing at a beautiful tiled two-oven stove, cooking something. We cannot see what it is as his efforts are obscured by his back. Behind him, Stripper is dancing in the middle of the kitchen; her slow, melancholic movements unaccompanied by music. To the left, a door to another room; to the right, the front door. A window. Several chairs around the kitchen table. Two empty Pilsner beer bottles on top of the table. There is also a sofa, a kitchen cupboard, a fridge. The moment Stripper concludes her performance by removing her knickers, Politician turns, holding a large, very large, plucked goose. He walks over to Stripper.
Poltician: You little tart! Running around without a stitch, you’ve no shame! (He slaps Stripper on her bare bottom.) Put your knickers on, take your money and get out of here, because now…(He lifts the goose up and slaps the bird.) we’ll have a different sort of striptease!
STRIPPER laughs, takes her clothes and her money from the table and runs out of the door on the right.
Poltician: ‘Can’t do it without music’ my arse! (He kisses the goose.) So you will be my last, fatal love! My femme fatale! (He returns to the stove, puts the goose in a big pan, singing a familiar melody, putting salt and caraway seed on the goose with expert skill.) A bit of salt and caraway seed, a bit of butter, yummy yummy, makes my goosey scrummy, scrummy…(Opens the oven door.) Gravy nice and yum yum yummy…(He lifts the goose in the pan up to his face.) Not a duck! A goose! (He puts the bird in the oven.) Only a nice fat goose has the right sex-appeal! (He kneels before the oven.) See you at the first basting, darling! (He blows a kiss to the goose and shuts the oven door.) When you start smelling nice. (He takes a Pilsen been out of the fridge.) Like a spring meadow. (He opens the beer and giggles to himself.) Time for the third aperitif!
He has a drink and goes out through the door on the left with his beer. It will take some time for the goose to start cooking and filling the space with delicious smell. This time will be a big challenge for the theatre makers. As soon as the goose smell is obvious, as well as the smell of a quality cigar, Politician returns, humming; he puts the now empty beer bottle on the table with the two others, picks up a ladle and an oven glove, opens the oven and starts basting the goose. He sings.
Poltician: I baste you, I bake you, I make you. My darling goosey, I’m gonna take you. I shall name you Zuzana. (He shuts the oven door.) Zuzana Goosey. (He takes out another beer from the fridge. As he is closing the fridge, four urgent, long doorbells.) How the hell to they know it’s my fourth beer? (He puts the beer down and goes to open the door. We can hear someone coming in. A shout.)
Doctor: I’ve got you!
A skinny man in a suit runs into the kitchen, looking about him wildly. It is Doctor. Politician follows him.
Doctor: You’ve gone completely mad!
Poltician: Doctor, don’t exaggerate…
Doctor: (Pointing to the table.) I can see for myself! Four Pilsners, (he points to the oven) roast goose, you animal…(points to the door on the left) you’ve got Martell on the rocks next door, (sniffing) a Cuban cigar and what else…
Poltician: There was the striptease as well.
Doctor: So, considering your condition, a certain suicide.
Poltician: And the stripper was your agent.
Doctor: I have to keep an eye on you somehow. You are involved in high politics and I’m responsible for your health.
/.../
translated by Eva Daníčková
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