JOB: I don’t get it. I mean, I’m a pretty good guy. I give blood. I floss regularly. I never take more ketchup packets from McDonald’s than I need. I always use my turn signals. (pause) I loved my wife and my children. I followed God’s commandments. (pause) I pick my nose, sometimes, but I don’t think that’s specificallly forbidden in the Bible.
Pause, changing gears a little.
I don’t think my wife really believes. She looks at the world, and believes in things she can see, and touch. Like hardwood floors. She’s always been a great believer in hardwood floors.
But I have faith. It’s not something you can really explain. You either have the power to believe in something you can’t rationally prove — or you don’t. How can you explain that? I believe God is everything and everywhere ... except for some parts of Canada.
Pause.
So, I guess, I just want to know why. Why me, you know? Maybe it’s silly. A lot of people will tell you that there’s no ‘why’ to anything.
Einstein said God doesn’t play dice with the Universe. Then again, he was the smartest man in the world, and he still couldn’t figure out to how to get a decent haircut.
The forces of the universe pay heed to no great plan. The world is unaffected by our petty problems. Rocks, for example, seem to be particularly oblivious to news about the economy. So why should there be a reason for anything?
Pause.
They’re wrong. I know there’s a reason. When I held my first child, I knew there was a reason. When my wife kissed me each morning, I knew there was a reason. When I watched "Ishtar," I wasn’t so sure anymore ... but, really, I knew. So WHY?
After a moment, as before, he hesitatingly walks over to the table, and picks up the Bible and the phone. JOB picks up the phone and quickly dials the number. He listens dourly, then perks up.
JOB: God? God?
Then JOB makes a realization, and starts listening then pressing buttons and mumbling to himself.
JOB: Press four for customer assistance (punches button, then listen again)... Press two to talk with the Creator of the Universe...
JOB puts his ear back to the earpiece. Slowly, a light comes up on the catwalk where GOD had appeared. Again, no one is visible.
JOB: Hello! Uh-huh ... uh-huh. (looking at audience, realizing they cannot hear.) Uh-huh ... God, can I put you on speakerphone?
JOB presses a button, and the VOICE from the other end of the phone is now audible. JOB turns and faces the audience, full front, on his knees. Heavenly choral music is heard.
VOICE: Yes, my child?
JOB: God? Is it you?
Dramatic pause. Then the musiic stops abruptly.
VOICE: No ... I'm one of God's interns. He’s in a meeting right now. Can I take your call?
JOB: The Lord hath cast a blight upon me...
INTERN: This isn’t another question about, "What’s a cubit?", is it?
JOB: No, no...
INTERN: And if it’s about wandering around in the desert for 40 years, it’s because our network is down.
JOB: No! The Lord has forsaken me! He has destroyed my life! (exasperated) The Lord hath slain all mine oxen and my sheep and my goslings ... and I'm not even sure what the Hell 'goslings' are.
Pause.
INTERN: (indignant) Are you done yet?
JOB: Uhh ... yes.
INTERN: I mean, I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. I’m just an intern. (getting angry) I’m not even getting paid for this!
JOB: Look, I...
INTERN: All day it’s anoint this, smite that...
JOB: Umm ... can you just transfer me to Customer Service?
INTERN: (calming down now) Look ... I’ll tell Him you called. (click)
The light on GOD’s platform fades, and JOB turns to face the audience.
JOB: (to audience, looking as if he does not laugh, he will cry) Well, I learned something. Never call God’s toll-free technical support number. (pause) Well, that’s it. I’m officially at the end of my rope.
Moving over to the table, still talking reflectively to the audience.
I’ve always been lucky. And I thought I was paying off my good fortune by being good. Now that’s all gone. Everything that meant anything to me is gone. (pause, looks at table as if noticing it for the first time, puts hand on it) Except this table. I like this table.
A string is pulled on a leg, and the table breaks.
JOB: Forget it. I hated that fucking table.
The lights on the stage go out, and GOD and SATAN’s lights on the catwalks come up again.
GOD: Whence comest thou?
SATAN: From going to and fro in the earth, and up and down in it.
GOD: Hast thou considered my servant Job? There is none like him the earth a perfect and upright man, one that feareth God and escheweth evil?
GOD is now speaking triumphantly to SATAN, lecturing her.
GOD: And still he holdeth fast his integrity, although thou movedst me aginst him, to destroy him without cause.
Pause.
SATAN: Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life. ... But put forth thine hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse thee to thy face.
GOD: Satan, behold ... he is in thine hand. (long pause) But save his life!
SATAN: Sure thing. (pause) But this time, the gloves are off.
SATAN is heard laughing diabolically. SATAN’s light fades, leaving GOD’s light alone.
GOD: You know ... this may have been my least bright idea since creating ticks.
GOD’s light fades, and we see the light on JOB below come up slowly as we hear hideous screams.
JOB: Arrrrgh!
JOB falls to his knees, his head in his hands...
JOB: My eyes!
JOB touches his face.
JOB: My skin!
A second, then JOB touches his teeth.
JOB: Ewww. And I have braces. Oh, God! WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME?
JOB crumbles into a heap on the floor. He sits with his head in his hands. After a moment, silently the Comforters — ZOPHAR, BILDAD, and ELIPHAZ, each dressed with their vestments of profession — enter and sit in the other chairs. ZOPHAR carries a book titled ‘Pink Freud.’ BILDAD has a briefcase. ELIPHAZ wears whatever it is that rabbis wear. A long, awkward pause, as they figure out what to say to so pathetic a creature.
ELIPHAZ: (comical Yiddish accent) Have we come at a bad time?
Long pause.
JOB: Who are you?
ELIPHAZ: We are your comforters. I am Eliphaz, the Rabbi.
BILDAD: I am Bildad, the lawyer.
ZOPHAR: I am Zophar, the psychiatrist.
JOB: What ... what do you want?
BILDAD: Want? We don’t want anything. We’re here to offer you comfort in your time of need.
ZOPHAR: We’re here for you.
ELIPHAZ: We feel your pain.
BILDAD: We’re covered by your HMO.
JOB: Thank you ... but I want to be alone.
ELIPHAZ: Nonsense! You have questions ... we have answers. We bring to you the accumulated wealth of the world between us. Any question that man can answer.
BILDAD: Although you probably shouldn’t ask us any questions about geography. None of us are very good at that.
Nods of agreement all around. The three comforters sit down in the chairs, facing out to the audience but still obviously facing JOB, almost as if they have drawn up sides for a debating match.
ZOPHAR: Lie down and tell us your problems.
JOB: I’m already lying down.
ZOPHAR: Well, then you’ve made your first successful step toward recovery.
ELIPHAZ: Tell us what’s wrong.
JOB: (taking a deep breath) Well ... my factory was blown up. My house was blown up. My money was gone. My possessions were destroyed. I was left with nothing in the world. The efforts of a lifetime were wiped clean.
BILDAD begins rolling eyes, making little "blah-blah" mouth-motions with his hand.
JOB: Then my children died. Except one who married Pauly Shore.
ELIPHAZ: What’s so wrong with that?
JOB: Did you ever see ‘Biodome?’
ELIPHAZ: No.
JOB: Of course you didn’t. Nobody did. (beat) Anyway, I was just at the part where my kids died. Can I continue, please? (pause) Then my wife left me. This left me utterly alone, without possessions, without friends, without comfort, and without reason to live.
BILDAD: (Rolling eyes) Jeez. Looks like it’s somebody’s time of the month...
JOB stops, stares menacingly at BILDAD, then lies back down again.
JOB: And now my health is gone. My eyesight is failing ... I’m nearly deaf ... I’m covered with sores...
ELIPHAZ: Well, I guess it still could be worse...
JOB: Oh, yeah? Look at this. (points to his teeth, the others look closely) Braces.
COMFORTERS: Eyeewwww.
JOB: I just woke up this morning and they were there.
ZOPHAR: That’s awful. (pause, looking for the bright side, weakly) Well, at least it didn’t require several visits...
BILDAD: Yes, supernatural dentistry is an outpatient service now.
JOB: That’s great, but ‘The Lord is my orthodontist, I shall not want’ just doesn’t cut it right now.
ELIPHAZ: Well ... it sounds like you’ve hit the end of your rope, eh?
JOB: Yes, I had that monologue a few minutes ago.
Long pause, while everyone thinks of something to say.
BILDAD: So what is your question?
JOB: What is it?
ZOPHAR: Yes.
JOB: The eternal question.
ELPIHAZ: Of course there are eternal questions about the universe. Like ‘Who is "Dr. Staff?" And why is he listed as teaching so many courses?’
JOB: No! I mean, ‘Why this? Why me? Why do I have to suffer?’
Long pause.
BILDAD: I take that back. Maybe you should ask us about geography instead.
JOB: I’ve lost everything. What suggestions could you possibly give me that would help?
ELIPHAZ: Well ... (grasping for something) you could try Ramen noodles. Very inexpensive. And microwaveable in two minutes.
JOB: I can’t. It would stick in my braces.
Pause while eveyone considers the seriousness of his situation, nodding.
ZOPHAR: Look at the big picture. We are all just pawns in this universe. The great cosmic dance goes on without us.
JOB: (seeing the flaw in his theory) Which dance is it?
ZOPHAR: Um ... I think it’s the Watusi, but I’d have to get back to you on that.
Another pause as the pressure is on BILDAD to come up with something profound.
BILDAD: Well, you should ride in the front seat of the car, ‘cause you get there faster.
Everyone looks at BILDAD, who realizes this didn’t go over very well and tries another tack. He gets up, strolls around, giving his great motivational speech.
BILDAD: Look. So you’re in a rough situation.(very moving and emotional now) You need to stand up for what’s yours. You need to realize that there’s a reason to go on. To believe in yourself. I’m talking to you from my heart. This isn’t some rehearsed, phony-baloney ... uh ... phony-baloney, um.... Damn! (calls offstage) Line!
STAGEHAND: (offstage) Phony-baloney speech.
BILDAD: Yeah. Phoney-baloney speech. You need to pick yourself up by the bootstraps and take action. I think it’s pretty obvious what you should do.
ZOPHAR: Drink?
BILDAD: No! Sue God!
Pause while everybody stares at BILDAD, who is oblivious.
JOB: Please tell me ‘Sue God’ is somebody you dated in college.
BILDAD: I’ve got it all planned out.
JOB: No, no ... you can’t just...
BILDAD: No, it’s perfect! The only problem is if He turns out to be too big for the courtroom.
JOB: I don’t want to...
ZOPHAR: How does this work?
BILDAD: Well, as shown in the ruling of Ibsen versus Hildebarge, first you issue a Writ of Corpus Christi, as ruled in Boy v. Fleesem & Howe, demonstrating...
JOB: I’m not interested.
BILDAD: Even better, God has to have a rotten defense team, due to the lack of lawyers up there!
JOB: Leave me alone!
BILDAD: Come on. I’ve got the papers to sign here. And there’s nothing God can do to stop you. Suing people is part of basic human rights.
BILDAD tries to open his briefcase. It won’t open. He smiles nonchalantly, then thumps it. He thumps it again ... less nonchalantly. Eventually he is pounding it on the ground, very chalantly. After a moment of staring at him, the others resume their conversation.
ZOPHAR: We’re reasonable men. Be rational. Look at it from the post-modern perspective. There is no God.
JOB: Of course there is! The whole universe is proof he exists. How else could it have been created?
BILDAD continues struggling with his briefcase, slamming in with both hands on the ground. The he flings it offstage and runs after it
ZOPHAR: Maybe it was ordered from L. L. Bean.
The others look at him incredulously.
ZOPHAR: They have a lot of nature-oriented stuff in their catalog.
BILDAD: (offstage) If God were truly just, it would have been ordered from ‘Victoria’s Secret.’
JOB: That’s not the point!
ZOPHAR gets up, strolls around or does whatever during the following exchange.
ZOPHAR: Look. I’ll offer you proof of the non-existence of God. (dramatic pause) Polyester leisure suits. No truly loving God could have allowed that to be created.
ELIPHAZ mulls this over approvingly.
JOB: Okay ... okay ... (thinking) Well, here’s proof of the existence of God. Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream.
ELIPHAZ mumbles his approval, then looks back at ZOPHAR.
ZOPHAR: All right ... how about against God ... parking tickets?
JOB: How about for God ... snow days?
ZOPHAR: Against .... alcohol-free beer.
JOB: For .... Back rubs.
In the background, BILDAD, disheveled, flings his briefcase onstage and begins jumping up and down on it.
ZOPHAR: Against ... Wedgies.
JOB: For ... The Beatles.
ZOPHAR: Impacted wisdom teeth.
JOB: Reruns of ‘Taxi.’
ZOPHAR: Stomach flu.
JOB: The New York Observer.
ZOPHAR: Long Island Newsday.
JOB: Cool Whip.
ZOPHAR: Sales tax.
JOB: Smelly magic markers.
ZOPHAR: New Jersey.
JOB: Emma Thompson.
ZOPHAR: The show ‘Mama’s Family.’
JOB: ‘Star Wars’ movies.
ZOPHAR: Cramps.
JOB: Dogs.
ZOPHAR: The "Achy-Breaky."
JOB: Etch-A-Sketches.
ZOPHAR: That kid from the ‘Encyclopedia Brittanica’ commercials.
JOB: Slow dances.
BILDAD gives up, returning to the group with his still-closed briefcase.
ZOPHAR: NASCAR.
ELIPHAZ and BILDAD: Ooh. Good one.