V. Furiously

[Darkness. From somewhere off stage, a walking bass meanders around the soundscape, kept in check only by the steady swing of brush on hi-hat. The sound heats up, cools down. Starts to groove, slides off into meaningless chromatics. Suddenly, in the middle of a bar the brass section hits a augmented chord. The lights fly on. COMRADE BLACK is standing centre stage, surrounded by his cronies. His back is turned. His posture exudes contempt.]

COMRADE BLACK

So you think you've won, my squishy friend?
You think you've beaten me? You think this is the end?
Well I've got news for you
and the rest of your crew
I may be leaving but I'm taking your colour too!

INKIES [whispering, snapping their fingers on the offbeats]

We may be leaving but we're taking your colour too
We may be leaving but we're taking your colour too
We've won, it's done, we've outsmarted you
We may be leaving but we're taking your colour too

[Suddenly the stage is the deck of a spaceship, with rockets blasting out from underneath it. The fire is real; the heat is chillingly radiant. As the spaceship begins to rise, BLOB and the rest of the Colour Underground can be seen entering stage right.]

ZIP

He's getting away! Run like the wind, Blob!

BIF

Strike the fear of colour into his soul!

ARTY

Jam some rainbows down his throat! [aside] Mangy little snob...

PROF [pointing]

Look out! He's heading for that black hole!

BLOB [holding up a hand]

Peace.

[He leaps. The music stops. There is a moment of impossible slow motion, as he sails a perfect arc through the air towards the deck of the fast departing ship. Will he make the jump? Will he fall into the abyss below? For a split second anything seems possible.]

COMRADE BLACK [eyes wild]

Faster! Faster!

[BLOB hits the deck with only a few feet to spare. The cymbals explode with triumph, and then every instrument in the pit is celebrating too. The same bassline from before is there, the only point of constancy as fiddles and trombones and electric organs fight to be heard over one another. The mood is brazen, revolutionary, fearless. BLOB looks COMRADE BLACK in the eye and grins.]

BLOB

Beaten? Matched. Victory? Snatched. I don't know
what you thought you'd do next, what crazy plans you'd hatched
but I'm here, see, fear me, your hour's drawing near, we
might as well get started,
I don't have all year. Hee! [sniggers]

COMRADE BLACK

Not bad, Blob, you got on board
that leap was quite impressive
but it's a little early for you
to be getting festive.
'Cause yes, you may be crafty fast
and worthy of my ire
but you won't be around for long
when my ink cannons...

[Hatches open up across the deck, revealing monolithic white cannons the size of houses. The strings tremolo at tritones as the cannons swivel to aim at BLOB's deer-in-the-headlights figure.]

COMRADE BLACK [cruelly satisfied]

...fire!

[The cannons go off like fireworks, balls of black goo flying everywhere. The organist slips in shock. The jazz cats scream like curdled milk. The drummer misses a beat, and all the other sections stumble. BLOB zigzags his way around through the chaos, running for his life. Colour blossoms wherever he moves, only to be consumed again by black as the blasts of ink splatter down onto the deck. He is fast. He is unstoppable. He is mad.]

BLOB

I dodge, I weave, I feint, I deceive
you've left no space for a quick reprieve
But tell me, Comrade, have heard that old adage?
“When trapped behind enemy lines, you sabotage!”

[A cannon pauses to reload and BLOB leaps on top of it, crushing it to pieces. He moves across the deck, creating a steady line of havoc as he approaches the ship's more vulnerable parts.]

BLOB

Your cannons are easily dispatched
Your engines are easily detached
I'll bring your ship down if you let me.
Don't like that? Then come and get me!

COMRADE BLACK [waving, shouting orders]

Fan out! Don't let him cross the deck!
[to a jetbike] Outpace him! Trap him! Leave him a whimpering wreck!
[to a tank] Crush him to pieces! Every last speck!
[to an Elite Inky] Bury him in ink up to his neck!

INKIES [crazed, double tempo]

Up to his neck!
Up to his neck!
Bury him in ink up to his neck!

[In all the chaos, the electric guitar has stumbled upon the perfect riff. Driving, pounding, slick and slippery, it punches through the rest of the music like a chainsaw through jelly. Slowly, one by one, the other instruments catch on to the riff. Some mimic, some play harmony, some fill the holes in the rhythm with intricate countersubjects. Fugue? Funk? Who cares?]

BLOB [who has no neck]

Another Inky squashed, another tank impaled
Did your army have to kill me? 'Cause they've definitely failed.
Doesn't matter if you're rich or strong or intellectual
if all your plays at stopping me are ineffectual

[BLOB raises a hand, and the music stops / he twists a finger, and the drummer beatdrops / he shuffles left and right, and the tuba flops / and the jazz flautist swaps with the choir and bops]

BLOB

Blob, blob, bloop de blob, I'm faster than you think
Blippity, bloppity, bang! I've struck before you can blink
and with the music right behind me, playing perfectly in sync,
Drop by drop I'm gonna paint over the ink

[COMRADE BLACK throws a switch, and the orchestra is ejected into space.]

COMRADE BLACK

Enough with this cacophony!
Let's see you fight without your groove!
You're all alone out here now, Blob.
Check. Your move.

[There is nothing left but drums. Fast, churning, syncopated when they want to be and dead on the beat when they don't. It is war converted to sound, adrenaline in its ethereal form.]

BLOB [eyes narrowing]

I can squash you like I squashed the rest of your goons...

COMRADE BLACK

You'll find that I'm a little hardier than those buffoons
You may be quick, but you'll find that you're fatally landbound
Inside this giant robot I'm safe and sound.

BLOB

...giant what?

[COMRADE BLACK hops into a giant robot and begins firing ink at BLOB. Shock horror! Accelerando!]

BLOB [dodging, ducking]

What the-? How the-? When did you build that?

COMRADE BLACK [gleefully]

While my goons kept you busy in town, you big-lipped gnat.

BLOB

I can still crush you through that, armour or not!

COMRADE BLACK

It's titanium alloy, Blob. Give it your best shot.

[BLOB attempts to break through the robot's armour, but true to his word, COMRADE BLACK has created an impregnable inking machine. BLOB is knocked off, falling to the ground, and instantly a barrage of ink follows him. He runs, but already he is growing tired, his pace slowing.]

BLOB

Comrade Black! Stop! What you're doing is wrong!

COMRADE BLACK

...said the fly to the spider as it dragged him along.
You had guts to make it this far, but it's stamina you lack
and that's why you're going to end up painted black!

[Just as the robot's aim catches up to him, BLOB dives behind a low pillar and huddles behind it. COMRADE BLACK smiles with primal satisfaction. There is no escape. He moves the giant robot closer, approaching the pillar, ink cannons primed.]

COMRADE BLACK [sneering]

Blob, blob, bloop de blob, come out and play.
You gave it your best shot, but today is my day.
It was fun, but you're done, and soon the world will be as one
Drained of hues and shades, lit by a colourless sun.
You 'liberated' Chroma City, but that was back then
and as soon as you're dealt with, I'll take it back again.
You fought and bled 'til you saw red
but for nothing, Blob! [raising his arms] Colour is dead!

[There is a moment of pained silence, cut only by the snare drum's patient crawl. After an eternity, BLOB emerges from behind the pillar. There is fire in his eyes. He opens his mouth and lets forth a stream of crippling words.]

BLOB

Your machinations were infernal
but the colours are eternal!
Spring's here and the land is vernal!
Sun's out and we are diurnal!
Stand tall, Raydians! Seize the day!
Blast this blasted colour away!
Every colour's here to stay!
Every colour's here to stay!

[A noise can be heard in the distance. The PEOPLE OF THE WORLD chant as one, their voices so loud they can be heard from outer space. Ignore that nonsense about vacuums; what's physics but another set of pointless rules?]

PEOPLE OF THE WORLD

Blob! Blob! Blob! It's Blob!
Blob! Blob! Blob! The Blob!
Blob! Blob! Blob! La Blob!
Blob! Blob! Blob! De Blob!

[Sensing the dramatic buildup, a gradually panicking COMRADE BLACK looks around. The music is back. And really, was it ever gone? Colour is just another kind of music, and BLOB is in the dictionary under 'colourful'.]

COMRADE BLACK

What are you doing? Tell me! What!?

BLOB

I think your big robot has a little weak spot.

COMRADE BLACK

But it's tougher than steel! It's denser than bricks!

BLOB

Nothing that a little coloured paint can't fix.

[BLOB hops onto a spot on the side of the robot and starts forcing paint through the cracks. COMRADE BLACK tries to force him off the sides, but to no avail.]

BLOB

Sorry, pal, but this battle is through
you're about to be soaked in red, yellow and blue
and all their combinations. [waves] Nice chatting with you!
And... yep, here we go–

COMRADE BLACK

No! Nooooo!

[The robot and the spaceship explode with colour. There is a bright blinding light, and the farthest reaches of the solar system are splattered with paint. The music explodes with life. The same riff from before is back, and now everyone is in on it. The world sings as one.]

PEOPLE OF THE WORLD

Blob! Blob! Blob! De Blob!
Blob! Blob! Blob! De Blob!

[COMRADE BLACK is trapped inside the robot, which is growing more and more colourful with each passing second. BLOB lands on the deck and spares him a glance.]

BLOB

Yours was a scheming endeavour
You must have thought it pretty clever
Life was duller without colour
but now it's back like ever!

PEOPLE OF THE WORLD

Blob! Blob! Blob! De Blob!
Blob! Blob! Blob! De Blob!

BLOB [grinning]

Long live the revolution!

[BLOB turns and leaps off the plummeting spaceship, stage right.]

[Curtain.]