Terry: Wakey, wakey, my precious, lift your weary head,
We cannot have you sleeping the sleep of the dead.
How is my Iris this fine feathered day?
Oh dear the Cheshire has taken her tongue away.
How sad she looks, like a fallen leaf in Winter.
Spring may never come for this Iris flower.
Rainbow blossom, Van Gogh and Monet’s favourite,
Lies waiting for the Gods to put things right.
Perhaps a few drops on her cheek will stir her heart.
Once more this sad lonely actress can play her part.
Arise , my dear and be as strong as ancient Rome.
This gentle traveller must now set course for home.
It is time to let you speak, but you must not scream.
I will not hurt you Iris this is just a dream.
I am afraid you don’t remember me do you?
At school my name was Terry what or Terry who.
I was the one who picked up your books when they fell,
To worship unseen, and silent, that was my hell.
Of course you never said thank you, did you , my dear?
That which courage would not do we will do in fear.
Iris: I don’t understand, why would you do this to me?
Let me go. I won’t tell. I beg you, let me free.
Terry: Is it so that harm can be done yet not cause shame?
The bee that stings will die by its own game.
Yet unkept promises that give birth to broken dreams,
Go unchecked by a flaw of memory, it seems.
Let me bare witness and explain this mystery.
You need to say thank you for the great gift of charity.
Iris: I’m sorry! Say thank you. That sounds very silly.
Thankyou for what? For tying me and stripping me?
I’m sorry all right. I can say I am sorry.
I’m sorry you were born to cause such misery.
Terry: The Gods who have brought us together have blessed us.
Don’t be funny, I need you to be serious.
Iris: I’m not kidding. They will charge you with kidnapping.
And as you die I’ll be walking away singing.
Terry: Kidnapping. It was originally kid nabbing.
Yet you’re not a kid and this is not kid napping.
You are on trial. This is a criminal court.
And there is a lesson you need to be taught.
Its time to apologise for those nasty looks.
A chance to say thank you for picking up your books.
As does the gentlest soul have poetry for food.
So does kindness die when deprived of gratitude.
Shuffle on, the time is near for your repentance.
I can wait but I am running out of patience.
Iris: I will say it but it is really hard to believe.
Thank you for picking up my books. Now can I leave?
Terry: You don’t mean it. You don’t even remember me.
I was the shadow, the ghost that no one could see.
Iris: I remember. Terry Hartfelt. Biology.
Miss Coldbush. That class was worse than geometry.
What a dragon she was and yes I remember.
You used to look out for me like a big brother.
Terry: You must be concerned about this, my beauty.
It’s important that you understand your duty.
be not afraid for as darkness bows tod day.
You will not be harmed in any physical way.
Iris: It’s too late I’m afraid? I am already harmed.
Please forgive me. I’ll do anything. I’m unarmed.
You can do whatever you like. I can’t fight you.
You can choose but take care for whatever you do,
Father will hunt you down like a dog if I am hurt.
Be warned the kiss that is not wanted tastes like dirt.
Terry: I wouldn’t threaten me with fathers or kisses,
Both of them are known for their broken promises.
Wasn’t our gentle saviour betrayed by a kiss?
And now to your benediction, my pretty miss.
Iris: I am sorry. I am sorry. I’m begging you.
I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want me to.
I’ll be your girlfriend if you want. Please let me go..
Please, please I want my mummy. No one has to know.
I want my mother. Mother ..I’ll do what I should.
Please Terry. I won’t tell I promise I’ll be good.
Terry: There you go making those false promises again.
Promises you cannot keep. They drove me insane.
Sad Iris, you are here, and I swear by this blade,
That now you will fulfil the promise that you made.
You sent me a love note five years ago today.
Do you remember? To me it’s like yesterday.
Iris: Sorry, I might have. It was a long time ago.
Besides I was just a young kid what did I know?
Terry: I see, so, because we were kids you share no guilt?
Sadly that just isn’t how relationships are built.
You see I happen to think that it was a pledge.
And for years has held me near the edge.
I believe a vow is a vow and should be kept.
That’s why for many years inside I wept.
Iris: You are just a child. A babe with stars in your eyes,
Did you believe any of those ludicrous lies?
You are worse than pathetic, but this is not fair.
You sad excuse for a man, do you think I care?
Terry: Wait I have the note right here. You see it was signed.
You have to honour it. DO not be so unkind.
Iris: Oh darling boy, I will read your crazy letter,
I will do anything to make you feel better.
But you must understand that those notes are silly.
Love notes are not to be taken seriously.
“Dear Terry, I really love you, with all my heart,
Your picture is near me so we can never part,
As I go to bed I give you a goodnight kiss,
One day I will kiss you in person, I promise.
Terry: That not describes the deepest kind of affection,
It uses love in an intimate description.
You use the word like a knife that cuts the flesh.
But to understand real love is not so childish.
Iris: It’s a grown up word, I see now, that I hurt you.
I am sorry, we were kids and that’s what kids do.
I’ve failed. It was meant to amuse and bring delight.
Now there is nothing I can do to make it right.
Terry: Just before we part I must ask you a question,
What is the opposite of love in your opinion?
Iris: It is hate , I guess or is that the wrong answer?
You obviously have some thought that is better.
Terry: Love is not the opposite of being hated.
The opposite of love is more complicated.
The sad truth as to why you couldn’t see it through,
Was because I was a disappointment to you.
The true opposite of love is disappointment.
The inability to make a commitment.
I have been a disappointment to everyone.
My parents were defeated, they didn’t want a son.
My father wanted someone like himself, a fighter.
My mother always sad she wanted a daughter.
The ones that are ignored never know contentment.
They only know the desert of disappointment.
Here and now is the time of the great resentment.
This is the birthplace of the immense bereavement.
Disappointment is staring at a godless sky.
Where the ain does not fall and the Sun is not high.
You of all people were disappointed in me.
Even your glorious promise was just folly.
You didn’t kiss goodnight a picture on your shelf.
But I don’t hate you. I’m disappointed in myself.
Now is the time to shine light on this darkened scene.
Iris have you ever heard of Nitrobenzene?
Iris: No, I haven’t got a clue what that stuff might be.
From kidnapping to murder in the first degree.
Terry: It’s called Oil of Mirbane. A deadly poison.
It’s as yellow as the sun on the horizon.
It’s quick. It reacts with the blood cells and corrupts them.
It paralyses the central nervous system.
At first your whole mouth is on fire then numbness.
This is followed by a calming unconsciousness.
Death occurs quickly by respiratory distress.
We need to add seven sleeping pills more or less.
The effects are like the getting of a love note,
That halts the breathe and holds the throat.
Taken altogether it is a certain cure.
Once dead I will no longer disappoint anymore.
Iris: Poor Terry disappointed or disappointment?
Oh dear no wonder he wasn’t content.
Goodnight Terry what, Terry who, Terry fied. Sleep!
For Life and I both have an appointment to keep.