Audience
By Vaclav HavelA brewery in Communist Czechoslovakia. A young playwright, Vanek, has been blacklisted by the government and now must earn his living doing manual labor. The brewery Foreman has been asked by the Secret Police to report on Vanek's activities, but the Foreman has decided to offer Vanek a chance to write the reports himself, thus ensuring that the government knows only what Vanek wants the government to know about him. Vanek refuses, saying that he will not inform on himself, that there is a principle involved, and that he cannot participate in something he has always found repugnant. The following is the foreman's reaction. He is very, very intoxicated.
FOREMAN
I see. So you can't. You can't. I like that. Now you've really shown your true colors, haven't you. A fine pal you've turned out to be. And what about me? Going to drop me right in the shit, aren't you? Let me stew in my own juice. Doesn't matter about me being a good guy. Never mind about me, I can be allowed to wallow in the slime, I'm just an ordinary yokel - but a fine gentleman like you can't participate. I can soil my hands as much as I like, as long as the gentleman stays clean. The gentleman has principles, and everyone else can go screw themselves, so long as he keeps his lilywhite soul. Putting principles before people. That's you intellectuals all over. Fine gentlemen, spouting fine words. You can afford to, because you always come out on top, you're interesting, you always know how to get out of things, you're on top even when you're down, but an ordinary guy like me can work his fingers to the bone and what has he got to show for it? Fuck all, that's what. No one to turn to, everybody getting him down, everybody taking a swing at him, he leads a goddamn miserable life - and then a guy like you comes along and tells him he's got no principles!
You'd take a nice cushy job in a warm warehouse from me, wouldn't you, but a little bit of the dirt I've got to wade through every day - that you won't. You're a clever bunch, you are, very clever, oh yes, you know what's what, you can take good care of yourselves. Principles! I'm not surprised you hang on to your principles - they come in handy, don't they, you know how to make a living from them - but what about me? Nobody gives me a hand. Nobody is scared of me, nobody writes reports about me, nobody gives a damn what I do, I'm just about good enough to shovel the mud out of which your principles can grow, I'm good to find you cozy warm spots for you to play the hero in, and what do I get for that? A kick in the ass.
One day you'll go back to your actresses, and you'll boast about the time you spent here rolling barrels, showing off what a big, strong he-man you are, but what about me, hu? What about me? I ain't got nowhere to go back to, have I? Where can I go? What has life got to offer me? What about my future?
Go and fetch her, would you - now... bring her here, please. Tell her, "Jirinka, I've got a pal over there, just an ordinary yokel, but he's fair-minded... I'll get you the job in the warehouse, and you won't have to make out any reports, either, just do this for me...
You will do it, won't you? I know you will. Just for one night... everything will be all right then, everything will be different, I'll know that I haven't lived for nothing, that this fucking life hasn't been completely wasted... You will go get her, won't you? If you don't... if you don't bring her here... I just don't know... I don't know what I'll do...
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