The Color of Summer: or The New Garden of Earthly Delights by Reinaldo Arenas Page B

AULA A MANDA :
Spanking monkeys!
Ooooh—I love it!
It sounds so wonderfully depraved!
    F IFO :
(I give up!)—It’s just a saying.
I want people to masturbate!
The idea’s to get back in the spotlight,
to get all eyes on us tonight,
and to do that we need some sex appeal.
    P AULA A MANDA :
If you want to make sure people squirm and squeal
and engage in a little pre-Carnival whoopee,
I can call in Endinio Valliegas—
he’s the best, I guarantee;
he’s even played Las Vegas.
Of course first you’ll have to get him fed—
he’s just been brought back from the dead.
and I’m sure he’s ravenous.
    F IFO :
No problem there—
just get him, please,
I’ll send out for Chinese.
    Before Valliegas begins his poem, the lights come up on K EY W EST . We see several executives, mayors, presidents of museums, and press agents sitting around a table.
    T HE M AYOR OF M IAMI :
After that screw of the President’s,
I think it’s pretty safe to say
we won the ratings battle today,
which, as we know, is what really counts.
Because whether Tula comes ashore or drowns,
the more people watch, the more the sponsors pay.
    A P OLITICAL L EADER :
Yes, but don’t forget—Fifo’s on the other channel,
so we’ve gotta make sure that people stay tuned in.
I say we put on a special panel,
I know, a shouting match!—like they do on CNN.

T HE E DITOR OF A F ASHION M AGAZINE :
What I have learned, and I’ll pass this on to you,
is that without TV, there’d be no ads,
and without ads, there’d be no dough,
and without dough, you might as well be dead!—
’cause money, as we all, I’m sure, have found,
is what makes the little wheels go round.
    K ILO A BIERTO M ONTAMIER :
There’s also power, too, of course . . .
    T HE A TTORNEY G ENERAL :
Girl, I couldn’t agree with you more!
    A P OETESS L AUREATE :
You know, now that everyone’s
into this resurrection thing,
somebody ought to do an ad campaign,
with designs
by Kelvin Klein—
    Resurrection—
it would sell a million!
    A C ONGRESSMAN :
And it’s not important who gets selected
to be the next celebrity
that’s resurrected;
what counts is the publicity.
    T HE B ISHOP OF M IAMI :
By the way, who is going to be the next candidate
for resuscitation from the dead?
Because I think it would be very cool
to borrow a tutu made of tulle
from my dear friend (and sometime office-mate)
the Cardinal.
    A N UN :
Perfect! It’s scheduled to be Mariano Brull!
    C HORUS OF P OETESSES :
Brull! Brull! Brull! Brull!
    B ISHOP :
Mariano Brull! No! He’ll be divine in tulle!
    C HORUS OF P OETESSES :
Tulle! Tulle! Tulle! Tulle!
    Suddenly all the people in Key West—including children, old folks, and statues—are wearing long tulle dresses. Swaying, they all begin to dance the Dance of the Resurrection of Mariano Brull. From out of the dancers emerges Alta Grave de Peralta with a gigantic egg that she constantly, rhythmically waves about. The egg appears to be quite light; sometimes it floats high, high up and then suddenly plumps back down again—it gets knocked down by the chopper blades. All raise their hands to heaven. We see Ye-Ye, the Only Remaining Go-Go Queen in Cuba (undoubtedly an infiltrator) reciting one of her PornoPop poems.
    T HE O NLY R EMAINING G O -G O Q UEEN : (as she dances)
A fairy queen in her elegant tutu,
A fairy queen, in tulle of baby blue!
    The egg floats up so high that it’s almost out of sight and it looks like it’s not ever coming back down again. Then Alta Grave de Peralta pulls out a pistol from under her tulle skirt and shoots at it. The egg bursts open and out of it emerges, like a butterfly from a chrysalis, Mariano Brull, dressed head to foot in tulle. Swaddled and wrapped in yards and yards of vaporous fabric, he drifts down slowly, gently, as though descending on a parachute. The poet lands on the stage at K EY W EST and begins to recite :
    M ARIANO B RULL : (absolutely head to foot in tulle, my dear, with a long skirt, leg-o-mutton sleeves, the whole nine