King James, the ruler of the Land
Wade, the King’s oldest friend
Gilbert, a wealthy real estate speculator
Love, a veteran soldier who is often blamed for defeats
Windhorst, a well-informed herald
Isaiah, a struggling soldier
Smith, a mirthful soldier
Lue, captain of the armies
Tristan, husband of Khloé
Crowder, a failed soldier
Altman, the young general of the armies
Kyrie, the prince who escaped
The Sources, two anonymous informants
Act I, Scene I
The Quicken Loans Arena, after the Cavaliers have fallen to the Thunder, 148-124
Enter King James, Isaiah, Smith, Crowder, and Wade.
Be still and be quiet lest hot words set our
House aflame! Fire can forge a stronger steel
But let us take care! Gentle with each to
Each must we good subjects be! Give your
Shoulders to our burden or the weight of
Defeat heaped upon defeat must be the
End of us. Sage Cleobulus praised moderation.
So should we moderate our passions
And seek not one person on whose neck to
Hang the blame. Mark you that banner of wine
And gold. Together, not yet two years prior,
We, in triumph, raised it. Together we shall
Raise another and another and another.
So speak! Speak! Do not hoard your thoughts like
Treasure. This day I am not your king, I am
Your brother. Speak! Who first?
Isaiah stands and raises his hand.
Friends, teammates, Cavaliers!
Who speaks? What apparition gives voice
Now? I hear words but see nothing!
Aye! What sorcery!
Sweet friends, it is I!
Hark! There it is again! But who speaks these
Words? It is a ghost, I say! Woe! Woe!
The chasm between life and death is bridged!
Flee, friends, flee!
Nay! Nay! It is I, a man, your teammate!
Nay, Smith. Look down there! The subject of our
Ah! I mark him, Tris. Young master, children
Are not allowed about so late at night. Where
Are your parents?
Ha ha. Your wit is well and truly honed
As the edge of a blade.
Come, sir. Stand atop this box so that we may
All the better mark you.
Enough now, Smith. Isaiah, speak.
Good King. Sirs, our struggles, like a shattered
Vessel, contain no secrets.
Simple as rain, plain as a pike.
We do not defend; we blunder and lurch.
But there is worse, friends, much worse.
Kevin Love, dear friends, where is he?
Ill, good sir. He is unwell.
I name him a liar. ’Tis true that
Illness strikes like lightning; one cannot
Tell where or when it might strike. But
Love’s malady was fear of the Thunder; a shookness
Of the mind, not a sickness of the body.
He lies, I say.
Exit King James, Isaiah, Smith, Crowder, Tristan, and Wade.
Act I, Scene II
The Land on a dark and stormy night
When darkness takes its rightful seat
To mine ears on stocking feet do
Whispers of ill tidings creep.
How cruel a lash is jealousy that drives
Men from the bosom of nurturing sleep
To disgorge the poisoned contents of their hearts?
Grievance, aye; I name thee ink and mine inkpot
Drowns in that bloody, blackened stuff.
Four seasons since the King returned from Southern
Fields to break the curse of half a hundred years,
And raise fair Nike’s banner high above the Q
Yet the mirth and smiles of triumph have all
Given way to endless gloom. But, soft!
Who comes this way to wag a restless tongue?
Enter The Sources.
Hail, herald of the Land! We bring tales ’neath
These cloaks! Tales, not tails, though ’tis true like cats
We hold our secrets behind a cryptic face.
Tales of dissension and woe! Of accusations
And skullduggery most foul!
Of height shaming.
Wow, height shaming?
Aye! Did you see the manner by which Love
Handed me the ball? As if I were his son?
Good gentle sirs, please. Mine quill can only scratch
And scribble but so fast and not as quick
As mouths! Tell me, is it true that you did
Label Love a liar, a feigner, a faker?
And, tell me pray, the reason thoust left Love like
A fallen cherub, lying on the court?
I do not like him. That is all.
Exit Windhorst and The Sources.
Act II, Scene I
Cavaliers Twitter, Online
Why must Kevin Love always be to blame
When scurrilous charges are levied without names?
When the slings and arrows of ill rumor
Fly, ’tis Love always at who they’re aimed.
The Cavs suck. Wade is washed. Calderon should start
Which is a terrifying thing to say in our current age.
Trade everyone but the King and fire Lue to boot.
Tho calamity might fall like fate’s judgment
’Pon our ears, we must keep the Pick, for the King shall leave
Of that we know and fear.
The defense is a shambles and the King
Is gazing west. To Los Angeles, with weather fair,
Far away from Gilbert’s chilly stare,
Two sirens sing to our fair King. One clothed
In royal purple and precious gold can offer up
Sixteen rings. T’other in red and white and blue has
Billions behind its name to wash its colors
Of the taint of shame. I fear King James will go.
I hope we don’t give up as many points
As the Cavaliers did last night. Ah ha
Ha ha! Ah ha ha ha!
Act II, Scene II
Quicken Loans Arena, Cavaliers defeat the Timberwolves
Enter King James and Isaiah.
A good shot, fair King. But did you
Not see me? I wish to celebrate our glories
As but my embrace was coldly turned aside.
Surely a mistake …
Who speaks? Ah, Isaiah, should I not have guessed
For who else speaks so much? Indeed though art
As full of words as a hen salmon is of
Eggs. A mob of sparrows could not match the
Chatter of your teeth and tongue. Your
Tiny hands did not help to hang the banner
Which proudly flies above. Yet the flapping
Of your tongue outstrips that of said banner
under highland winds. And now you say I did
Not embrace you? In truth I did not see you.
You are as air befouled; your contributions
Are invisible though impossible to ignore.
Enter Wade wearing sunglasses, shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt, carrying luggage.
Ah, Wade. Well met. How goes it?
Excellent! My flight to Miami awaits. I thank
You for your leave.
I just want to be where I’m wanted, King James.
I don’t want to be traded. I’m tired of
Being traded. I want to be here. I
Like it here. It hasn’t been as planned.
But I definitely want to be here. We have
A chance to win a championship and I
Want to be a part of it.
Exit King James and Isaiah.
Act III, Scene I
A street in the Land, trade-deadline day
Hear ye, hear ye, people of the Land.
Events which have no precedent in history
Today have come to pass. The almighty eye
Of god could not foresee the tumult of these days.
Isaiah the unwanted has been
traded to L.A. and Wade and Crowder and
And Rose and Frye are also on their way.
In their stead, come Hill and Hood to
Space the floor anew. And legacy Larry Nance
The Younger comes to dunk on those unlucky few.
The darkness now has lifted. Koby Altman’s
Job today is done. But as we know, the only
Count that matters are the rings when the season’s
Act III, Scene II
A room in the castle
Enter King James.
Mutinies and discord done, palace treason
Swept away. The villains of the season gone;
A King must have his say. And so I’ve done.
Will I stay? This Land where I was born
Is suffused with my blood and yet, I must
Fly as I have done before if titles
Cannot be mine. This is the excellent
Foppery of the world, that when we are
Sick in fortune, we make guilty of our
Disasters the sun and moon and stars and
Dan Gilbert and Kyrie. Get thee gone,
Whoremaster fate. But will I stay? But will I stay?
Who but god can say.
Exit King James.