Chapter Four: The Chorus Roasts
Chorus:
Ah, Thebes! A city where the walls have tongues and the streets have ears—but no one listens quite like we do. We are the voice in your head, the snark in your step, the laughter behind the tears. Tonight, we roast the royal family, the city's favorite tragicomedy, served with a side of scandal and a dash of chaos.
The stage is set in the bustling city square, where citizens gather around a makeshift platform. Lanterns flicker, casting long shadows on faces eager for spectacle. The air hums with anticipation—whispers, bets, and the scent of roasted chestnuts. The Chorus steps forward, dressed in motley, their voices rising in a rhythmic chant.
Chorus (singing):
Welcome, welcome, to the grand parade,
Where kings are clowns and queens afraid,
Where daughters dance with shadows tall—
And one says loudly: F*** it all!
The crowd cheers, some laughing nervously, others curious. The Chorus grins, knowing their words cut sharper than any sword.
Chorus:
Let's talk about Laius, the king with a crown too heavy for his head.
A man who tries to rule with iron fist and whispered threats—
But ends up tangled in his own web of lies and regrets.
Cut to Laius, pacing in the palace, overhearing the distant laughter. His face tightens, jaw clenched. He stops abruptly, slams a fist on the armrest of his throne.
Laius (grumbling):
They mock me.
They all mock me.
A king reduced to a joke—
King 'Won't Lay Us,'
A name I never asked for.
He glares out the window, watching the city below. The market stalls bustle, but beneath the chatter, the whispers grow louder—whispers of rebellion, of a daughter who refuses to bow.
Back to the square, the Chorus continues, weaving tales and jabs.
Chorus:
Oh, Laius, oh Laius,
King 'Won't Lay Us,' they call you thus—
For all your threats and royal bluster,
You're all bark, no bite, just bluster.
The crowd roars, some clutching their sides, others shaking their heads in disbelief.
Chorus:
And Jocasta, the queen, caught in the middle—
A woman torn between love and riddle.
She hides her pain behind a smile,
But we see the cracks all the while.
Cut to Jocasta, sitting alone in her chambers, eyes distant. She listens to the laughter drifting through the palace walls. She fingers a delicate necklace, a symbol of her fading power.
Jocasta (whispering):
What have we become?
A family fractured, a city divided.
She rises, moving to the window, watching the city below. The people of Thebes swarm like ants—restless, uncertain, hungry for change.
Jocasta (to herself):
If only I could mend what's broken,
But some cracks run too deep.
The Chorus shifts focus, their tone sharpening.
Chorus:
But the star of the show, the spark in the night,
Is the daughter who refuses to play polite.
The F*** It All, the wrecking ball, the storm—
She's rewriting the rules, breaking the norm.
The crowd hushes, some exchanging glances, others nodding in approval.
Chorus:
She's everywhere and nowhere, a ghost in the halls,
A whisper that echoes off the palace walls.
She's the question no one dares to ask—
The fire that burns away the mask.
Enter The F*** It All and Echo, slipping through the crowd unnoticed. Their eyes gleam with quiet defiance.
The F*** It All (to Echo, low):
Let them talk.
We're the story they can't stop telling.
Echo (smiling):
And the punchline they can't predict.
The F*** It All scans the crowd, noting faces—some fearful, some inspired, some skeptical.
The F*** It All (quietly):
Fear and hope—two sides of the same coin.
We'll flip it and watch them scramble.
Chorus:
So raise your cups, Thebes, and toast the night,
To the chaos, the courage, the coming fight.
For in this city of twisted fate,
The F*** It All will decide the state.
The crowd erupts in cheers and applause. Lanterns sway, faces glow with excitement and fear. The city feels alive—unpredictable, dangerous, electric.
Suddenly, a group of palace guards pushes through the crowd, searching. The murmurs swell into whispers of alarm.
Guard Captain (loudly):
Keep your eyes open! She's here somewhere.
The F*** It All tenses, but Echo slips a hand into hers, steadying.
Echo:
Not tonight. Not here.
They melt into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as they appeared.
Chorus (mocking):
The king's dogs sniff and snarl, but the scent is gone—
A ghost in the crowd, a shadow at dawn.
Scene shift: A dimly lit tavern near the square. Citizens gather, some emboldened by the night's performance, others wary.
Merchant:
Did you hear the Chorus tonight?
They're calling the king a joke!
Old Woman:
And his wife a broken reed.
But that girl—she's something else.
Like fire in the dark.
Young Man:
She's dangerous.
But maybe that's what we need.
Chorus (voiceover):
The people talk, the city listens,
And in the whispers, a revolution glistens.
Back in the palace, Laius sits brooding, rubbing his temples. Jocasta enters quietly.
Jocasta:
You can't silence them with threats.
The city's changing.
Laius:
Then I'll change with it.
Or burn it down trying.
Jocasta looks away, pain flickering in her eyes.
Jocasta:
At what cost, Laius?
At what cost?
Chorus:
The king rages, the queen pleads,
The city waits for the next act.
And in the wings, the daughter smiles—
The wrecking ball is just getting started.
The night deepens. Lanterns flicker low. Thebes holds its breath, caught between fear and hope, between the old order and the new.
Chorus (closing):
Remember this night, when laughter cut deep,
When the old order trembled and dared not sleep.
For the wrecking ball swings, and the city knows—
The story's just starting, and anything goes.