Waiting for Waldrop

An empty track. The far turn. Just before the third GI of the day.

Osamzvona, sitting on a low mound, trying to stand. Panting.
She gives up, exhausted, rests, tries again.
As before.
Enter Ruffian.

Osamzvona: Nothing to be done.

Ruffian: I am beginning to come to that conclusion. I have tried, my whole life to be reasonable and give the benefit of the doubt. Now, I don't know but I struggle on. (She broods, musing on the struggle. Turning to Osamzvona) There you are again.

Osamzvona: Where is that?

Ruffian: Exactly.

Osamzvona: (Breathless, resigned.) Did they care for you?

Ruffian: (Gazing down the backstretch) Someone must have. Someone always does when you do what they want. Just don't disappoint them and they will care for you all you want. (Ears flick as pigeons alight.)

Osamzvona: (irritably) PETA loves me.

Ruffian: (Gloomily) It's too much for one filly. (Pause. Cheerfully.) On the other hand, what's the use of losing heart now. We should have thought of it a million years ago, in the fifties.

Osamzvona: Stop blathering and help me with this bloody thing.

Ruffian: Sports Illustrated, national television, among the first to call. We were respectable then. Now it's too late. (Osamzvona tears at her shoe.) What are you doing?

Osamzvona: This hurts. Did this ever happen to you?

Ruffian: Does it hurt? Why don't you listen when I tell you it will all change? Get up. (sighs) Is your shoe loose? There is a lot of that going around. (Looks at the empty grandstand.) Ask anyone.

Osamzvona: (In a whisper.) You're right. I will wait.

Ruffian: (Smiles and nods.) It won't be long. There's man all over for you, blaming dirt for the fault of his feet. (Nips at her saddle cloth. Swishes her tail. Snorts. Peers at her saddle cloth. Snorts.) This is getting alarming. Most of the thieves were pardoned. Bella?

Osamzvona: (Incensed and fading.) What?

Ruffian: Suppose we repented. Did you ever read the NTRA Safety and Integrity Alliance report?

Osamzvona: From the NTRA...(Hope flickers and fades.) Just words. More pandering.

Ruffian: It sounds nice though, like it means something. Full of action verbs and promises. I'm sure he will enact them when it is convenient or unanimous. (Nips at her saddle cloth.) The fines will mean something too.

Osamzvona: Well? Nobody agrees and those that do don't count.

Ruffian: But everybody was there. Why not believe him rather than the others?

Osamzvona: Who believes him?

Ruffian: Everybody. It's the only version they know.

Osamzvona: People are bloody ignorant apes. ( She makes one last effort and stands, painfully. Trots to the 7/8 pole and peers into the distance, her tail swishing in annoyance, lathered. Ruffian trots to the fallen shoe, nudges it, jumps back and spits.)

Ruffian: Pah!

Osamzvona: Charming spot. Inspiring prospects. (She turns back to Ruffian.) Let's go.

Ruffian: We can't. We are waiting.

Osamzvona: For who?

Ruffian: Waldrop.

Osamzvona: (Collapsing as all four legs give way. A snake slithers out toward the hedge, venom trailing in its wake. Osamzvona laughs.) I trust you have cleared your calendar. Shall we count sand grains while we wait or Asmussen's history of violations? It will take about the same. Come, sit.

Ruffian: You are right, Bella. Embrace me. We have nothing to do but wait.

With Deepest apologies to Samuel Beckett.