The Windsor Prince and I by Chris Sotraidis

The Windsor Prince and I
a short play by Chris Sotraidis

Cast of Characters:

Prince Andrew, Duke of York……………………….as Honorary Rear Admiral of the Royal Navy
Jeffrey Edward Epstein……………………………….as American Financier and Registered Sex Offender
Virginia Roberts…………………………………………as Trafficked Teenager and Slave to the Monarchy
Prince………………………………………………………as
g

Act I. Scene I. The North Sea, near Aberdeen. The year is 2001. Our characters have been traveling on a yacht owned by Jeffrey Epstein for the past 6 weeks. It is the early morning and the sea is fair. The Scottish shoreline is to the west, just barely visible on the horizon. Prince Andrew has arisen from his royal bed beneath the deck to sit with his tea and satellite phone on the Poop deck.

Enter Prince Andrew, Duke of York, on the Poop deck.

PRINCE: Oh, ho! What a glorious day to be alive on the sea! Not just alive, I dare say, but teeming, positively teeming with radiant vigor only the cosmic philosopher Ra can deliver! Let his rays hit me like a mantra sung in the thralls of an opium induced utopia!

Enter Jeffrey Epstein, stumbling onto the Poop deck to sit in a white leather chair next to Prince Andrew. Both Prince Andrew and Jeffrey Epstein are sitting on inordinately expensive leather couches, complete with satellite phone holders. The two gentlemen stare at the open sea.

EPSTEIN: (sighing) Why do we do it, Andrew?

PRINCE: To what are you referring, Jeffrey?

EPSTEIN: I mean the struggle. The struggle for the heights, the endless revisions and calculations. The long cold nights spent tucked away attempting to ascend ourselves, filling our minds with the thoughts of long dead philosophers. I’m talking about the Übermensch, a lengthy climb to God- nay the gods!

PRINCE: My dear Jeffrey, that’s what this trip is all about! You’re the one that convinced me a neo-spiritual awakening was needed more than ever! And you’ve been right! How are we to cleanly extrude our inner-complexities if you are in any degree of doubt?

EPSTEIN: I guess I’ve been so focused on finding some semblance of wholeness on our terra that I’ve lost sight of our initial endeavor. This was never about perfection! I refuse to make the same comically shrewd judgment of the world like Pangloss. Yes, the world may be flawed, fundamentally so, but that shouldn’t stop us from attempting to refine our minds. A healthy mind for the sake of itself.

PRINCE: (raising his tea cup) Cheers to that! Here’s to a life of no regrets. A life of inner-purity; a balance of hedonism and intellectual pursuits!

EPSTEIN: Cheers to that indeed! Andrew, you are my oldest and dearest friend, and you know that I would seek you reprise after reprise for advice, no matter how solemn or gay the exchange.

PRINCE: Yes, and I you! No book unread, no stone unturned! I am as dedicated as you in our quest for making sense of this malicious world.

EPSTEIN: Right. (pausing for a moment) The reason I’ve been so formal this morn stems entirely from my increasingly conflicting thoughts about the mademoiselle we have taking quarter in our spare bedroom beneath the deck.

PRINCE: The slave? What about her?

EPSTEIN: I suppose I’m having second thoughts about owning slaves. All these years, I’ve lied to everyone. People ask me my profession, and I feel conflicted. Am I a financier, or slave trader?

PRINCE: You’re both, Jeffrey. Be proud of that.

EPSTEIN: It just doesn’t feel sound anymore. This cultural atmosphere, the year 2001. I’m finally starting to feel again, Andrew.

PRINCE: Feel?

EPSTEIN: Feel.

PRINCE: (scoffing) How can we own slaves if you develop a conscious like that?

EPSTEIN: Maybe I don’t want to own slaves anymore!

PRINCE: (gasping) What?! Jeffrey, you can’t be serious! Take it back! You know that’s not true!

EPSTEIN: Okay, I still want to own slaves. What I said before was a tad batty….. I don’t want to be a sex slave trafficker anymore!

PRINCE: (even louder gasp) WHAT?! How will the royal family survive?

EPSTEIN: What the devil do you mean, survive? Your family has been controlling England for almost a hundred years. Do you not have other contacts? I’m sure your relatives can last a good period of time without the assistance of a sex slave!

PRINCE: I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you, Jeffrey. I’m afraid I haven’t shown you what I truly am.

EPSTEIN: Andrew, I already know that you’re a morally corrupt, socially incompetent person. Anyone can see that. It’s practically a requirement for having royal blood.

PRINCE: There’s something about my blood that’s colder, more elusive and hidden than you could ever possibly imagine.

Prince Andrew leaps up from his ultra-comfy armchair to stand before Jeffrey, and with one swift motion pulls off a large chunk of skin from his face. Underneath the skin is a Komodo dragon looking-face, complete with an inordinately long skinny tongue and two sets of eyelids.

EPSTEIN: Andrew, I already knew you were a Reptilian.

PRINCE: (with a shocked expression on his lizard face) Huh? You did? What gave it away?

EPSTEIN: You told me. Remember last week when we caught that little gecko that had managed to climb aboard? I was about to throw it off the deck and you started hissing at me. And then you blurted out that you were a lizard too.

PRINCE: (YELLING) I’M MORE THAN JUST A LIZARD. I’M THE LIZARD KING, AND THE ROYAL WINDSOR LIZARD FAMILY CAN ONLY SURVIVE BY FEASTING ON THE BLOOD OF CONTEMPORARY WHITE SLAVES.

EPSTEIN: (Keanu Reeves) Woah. I’m presuming that your mother is the Lizard Queen? That certainly explains why all of the white slaves I’ve been trafficking go missing immediately after your family takes one look at them.

Enter Virginia onto the Poop deck, with a certain swag to her step that could only be described as ultra-sassy.

VIRGINIA: He’s not the Lizard King! He told me while we were having non-consensual sex a few days ago! Prince is the real Lizard King, not Andrew!

PRINCE: (hissing) Virginia! How did you escape your jail cell in the lower quarters?

VIRGINIA: You didn’t lock the cell.

PRINCE: (hissing) Hisssssssss.

EPSTEIN: Virginia, what do you mean, Prince? Are you saying there’s another?

VIRGINIA: Yes, I am. The Purple One. Joey Coco. Alexander Nevermind. The artist formerly known as Prince!

Suddenly, a maelstrom appears on the sea in front of the Poop deck. The swirling vortex turns a bright purple color, more of a fuchsia, and various guitar chords are heard emanating from the center. The sky darkens, and it begins to rain purple. A long “ohhhhhhhhhhhh!” is heard, and a blinding purple lightbeam appears to transport a celestial creature from the center of the maelstrom to the Poop deck.

g : WHO DARES TO SUMMON ME? WHO DARES TO CALL ME BY MY FORMER NAMES? SPEAK, EARTHLINGS!

VIRGINIA: (kneeling) Lord Prince, it is I, Virginia Roberts, a slave to the Windsor royal family! I am being mistreated by your brother, Prince Andrew!

g : ANDREW, YOU FOOL! WHY HAS ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR SLAVES SUMMONED ME? HAVEN’T I TOLD YOU I AM HARD AT WORK ON MY NEXT ALBUM?
PRINCE: It was a mistake, my brother! It won’t happen again! The rest of the family wasn’t blessed with your powers. We can’t survive solely on the pleasures of achieving artistic success! I just wanted what is best for mother!

g : DON’T BRING MOTHER INTO THIS. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE PLACEHOLDER QUEEN. I AM THE PATRIARCH OF THIS FAMILY, AND I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU JEOPARDIZING MY DISTINCT MINNEAPOLIS SOUND. YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE A REPTILIAN!

PRINCE: No, brother, I can change! I’ll stop financing the white slave trafficking! I’ll stop making relationships with people who know a great deal about your previous names! I’ll stop listening to R&B music!

g : YOU LIE! I HEREBY BANISH YOU TO A LIFE OF MORTALITY!

A fuchsia mist engulfs Prince Andrew, and with the blink of an eye Andrew’s skin turns from scaly to mushy white human.

PRINCE: No! What have you done?!

EPSTEIN: Now you’re just like the rest of us, Andrew. Mortal and weak, with a craving for pizza and hamburgers.

PRINCE: Hamburgers?! No!

VIRGINIA: I think you’ll find them quite tasty, at least compared to human flesh and blood.

g : MY WORK HERE IS DONE. VIRGINIA, I WILL TRANSPORT YOU BACK TO YOUR FAMILY IN BRISTOL. IN 13 YEARS TIME, YOU CAN TELL THE WORLD ABOUT ANDREW AND HIS EXPLOITS. I WANT TO GIVE HIM TIME TO GROW OLD AND FRAIL!

A bolt of fuchsia lightning strikes Virginia and Prince Joey Coco, and they vanish into thin air. All that is left is smoldering blackened soot on the wood floor of the Poop deck.

EPSTEIN: Wow. I wasn’t expecting that at all. Who knew that the key to Prince’s youthful appearance was his Reptilian ancestry?

PRINCE: (sobbing) I’m ruined, Jeffrey. I’m done for. What could possibly be good about being a mortal?

EPSTEIN: Pizza. Pizza for breakfast.

C’EST TOUT!

Chris Sotraidis is a Reptilian, which would explain why he’s single and unable to find love.

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