Copyright © 2003, Dramatists Play Service, Inc.
Reprinted by permission.

Director of Professional Rights Robert Vaughan and Director of Publications Michael Fellmeth met with Bat Boy in the Palm Court of the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan to talk about growing up in a cave in Hope Falls, West Virginia, Bat Boy: The Musical, and his rise to global celebrity as the lead in a hit show about his own life. The pointy-eared, fanged star arrived with an entourage of bodyguards, personal assistants, agent, lawyer and publicist. Bat Boy, immaculately clad in Savile Row, seemed only vaguely aware of their presence. He greeted us warmly, sat down, lit a miniature cigar and ordered a bloody mary.

FELLMETH. Let me begin by saying how taken I am with your voice, Bat Boy. Did you have any formal training?

BAT BOY. Please don't call me Bat Boy. My name is Edgar.

FELLMETH. Of course, my apologies, Edgar.

EDGAR. It's all right. It's a common blunder. Although, I imagine you might find it tiresome if the public persisted in calling you "Monkey Man." In answer to your question, no, I did not have any formal training. I learned, shall we say, on the job. In order to hunt in the dark, twisting caverns, I employed "echo-location," sending out sounds to seek out and identify my prey. Bugs echo differently from rats, turtles, small lost children, et cetera. At first I used simple shrieks and guttural garglings, but soon I found I enjoyed harmonizing with my own echoes. I learned to bounce notes, scales, full contrapuntal melodies off my meals. I was quite literally "singing for my supper." (Laughs.) Ah, good times … Anyway, eventually I improvised extended fugues and oratorios, which I later recorded and submitted to earn my doctorate in ethnomusicology from Magdalen College, Oxford. And my ability to stun or even kill prey with an ear-rending shriek came in handy when I began performing on the stage: no microphones for me!

FELLMETH. Hanging there, upside down, harmonizing with nature, I find that an incredibly moving image, Edgar.

VAUGHAN. Me too. It must have been very difficult to adjust to society after leaving the cave, Edgar; after all, they wrote a musical about it. But what have you found to be most troublesome? For instance, there was your appearance in the tabloids as a stalker of Jenna Bush. How much truth was there to that? (Edgar's mobile rings.) Is that me? Or - no, it's you. Do you need to get that?

EDGAR. I'm terribly sorry. This will only take a second. (Answers phone.) Talk to me … Bobby! Bubbie! Good to hear your voice … Uh-huh … (Laughter.) Oh Bobby, you are a caution! … Can you hang on? I'm getting another call. (Edgar switches over.) Talk to me … Barbra! Bubbie! … How's Jimmy? … Uh-huh … (Laughter.) Hmm, could be a very lucrative endorsement deal, I hear these dentists are loaded … Okay … Oh sweetie, no. You were a funny girl, and an even funnier lady, but what have you done for me lately, you know? … All right … Have your people call my people, and Edgar will see what he can do. Buh-bye, Bubbie. (Switches back.) Bobby? Gotta run. We'll meet for sushi when I'm back on the left coast … Oh no, no. It's "Bat Boy," Bobby. Not "Bat Middle Aged Man." … Okay, you know the drill … Edgar will see what he can do. (Edgar hangs up, sighs.) It's like this all day. I'm not just a sex symbol anymore. I'm an icon. A brand, really. Everyone wants a piece. What was the question?

VAUGHAN. Jenna Bush?

EDGAR. Ahhh, Jenna. Jenna the Menace, that was my pet name for her. She was such a terror. The media had it all wrong, though. It was she who took to following me. After I finally got a restraining order she went on that binge in Texas that made all the papers. It's sad, really. I loved her so. You don't know where she is, do you?

VAUGHAN. Er …

FELLMETH. I'd like to return to the cave for a moment, if we could, Edgar. You grew to boyhood entirely in the company of bats, and I'm wondering what your thoughts were when you first encountered your own kind, the spelunkers who discovered you.

EDGAR. My own kind? A brace of vile cannabis-crazed adolescent morons? (Chuckles.) I hardly think so. However, upon being set upon and cudgeled by those ruffians, I recall my first thoughts were these: (Emits a series of ear-rending shrieks). In my language it closely resembles your New Testament phrase, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" Thus: "(Shriek)" means "My God, my God," or more accurately "My Bats, my Bats"; "(Shriek)" of course is "Why hast Thou forsaken"; and "(Series of shrieks, grunts, metallic whines and earsplitting howls)": "me." So yes, it was a difficult time. I spent much of it in a sack. Are you all right, mates? You look a bit fagged.

FELLMETH. Ouch.

VAUGHAN. Migraine.

EDGAR. Oh. Right. Regular humans. Sorry, sometimes I forget myself. (Cell phone rings.) Talk to me! Paulie! Bubbie! … What's the rumpus? … In Jersey? They did? Oh no … What does that mean, criminal charges or just a lawsuit? … Now, Paulie, that's just folderol, because I was provoked. Provoked, you understand? … Three beers, tops. Maybe some bourbon and a Sex on the Beach. But that's immaterial. Habeas corpus, that's what I say … Well, just fix it, then … Don't give me that, Paulie-boy. Whose side are you on, anyway? … Well, you tell them that they're treading on dangerous ground here. Don't they understand what can happen when Edgar is provoked? … D.A., shmee-ay. Nobody dictates terms to me. Now stop wasting my valuable time, and fix this like you're paid to do! (Hangs up.) Oh, you two look better.

VAUGHAN. Okay, Edgar, time for word association: How about Shelley Parker…?

EDGAR. Innocent maiden / as beautiful to behold / as my reflection.

VAUGHAN. Actually, word association is just supposed to be the first word that pops into your head.

EDGAR. Oh, right. Sorry. Sometimes I naturally speak in haiku. Let's try again. Go.

FELLMETH. Meredith Parker.

EDGAR. Life was yours to give / I cried out for your mercy / but you turned away. Wait. I did it again, didn't I? Silly me. Do another.

VAUGHAN. Dr. Thomas Parker.

EDGAR. SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!! Sorry. Lost myself for a second there. In my native tongue that means … well, there really is no English equivalent. It just means SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!

FELLMETH. Edgar.

VAUGHAN. Please.

EDGAR. Right. Noted. (Makes "zipping up my lips" motion.) Perhaps we'd best not discuss Dr. Parker. That is a difficult subject for me.

FELLMETH. Understandably so. A father who abandoned you in infancy to be raised by bats and then - as if that weren't enough - tried to rally a town to kill you.

VAUGHAN. But it's admirable the way you've channeled all your pain into your art, rather than exorcising it through violence, like you used to do.

EDGAR. Excuse me? As I used to do?

VAUGHAN. Well, yes. The people you've attacked, eaten really …

EDGAR. Attacked, eaten? … I? … What a strange man you are. You say such silly things. I have no idea what you're talking about. No idea whatever. But to answer part of your odd question, yes, I do have a message for the young people: perseverance. That's what it takes. Just follow your dreams, that sort of thing.

FELLMETH. Forgive my psychobabble, Edgar, but it seems to me that your dream was to be accepted and loved as you are by your mother and father, the people of Hope Falls and, of course, by your beloved, Shelley. In Bat Boy you make extraordinary efforts towards that end, mastering English from BBC tapes in a matter of hours, mastering geography, mathematics, world events, even earning your CPA, and all the while resisting the lure of fresh, warm blood, subsisting on little more than your desire to fit in. With all your success, do you feel at last that your perseverance has allowed you to achieve your own dreams?

EDGAR. Ah, yes. Once upon a time, my dreams were the dreams of any half-bat/half-boy. I dreamed of food, a warm spot in which to sleep and freedom from predators. The world that the Parker family revealed to me was beyond my wildest imaginings. Your language, your culture, your soft, fluffy bunnies - all of it! It tickled the synapses in my human brain and stirred the passion in my animal loins. I wanted to take the bull of society by the horns, ride it for eight seconds, then tear its head off and drink my fill - metaphorically speaking, of course. And, by God, I've done it! Look around you now. Do you not marvel at the opulence? Does your heart not beat a bit faster in my presence? The loathed tabloid monster is now a star of the world stage! Ha-ha! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Sasquatch!

VAUGHAN. I take it you're not satisfied with the quality of the press you get.

EDGAR. Dear God, no. Still misunderstood, still hunted, feared, mocked. (Snaps his fingers in the direction of an assistant.) Cassie, give me this week's News. See, look at this cover: "Bat Boy Bites Girl at Auto Show!" Now really, would I be caught dead at an auto show? Now, the opera, certainly. (Picks up a review.) Observe this too: "A brilliant parody of musicals." Numbskulls. My show is not a parody. The tunes, the lyrics and the story are all original, and if anyone disagrees, I shall be happy to debate them, refute them, saw through their rib cage with my incisors and extract their juicy spleen.

FELLMETH. It seems that the press continues to fall prey to the hysteria that the townsfolk of Hope Falls fell prey to, hysteria that led to your being caged and then released and then again hunted down like a frothing rabid animal only to emerge as an international star. It's a schizophrenic adore-fear relationship the public has with you. Certainly, aside from perhaps Michael Jackson, you're the only major celebrity I know of who inspires, well, such horror. Robert mentioned earlier the accusations that you've eaten a couple of people, though, of course, you've never been convicted. Do you think the fear is unjustified? How do you explain the apparent adore-fear thing?

EDGAR. It's all in the face, mate. Now I (after years of therapy) have come to accept my unique beauty - smooth alabaster skin, perfect bone structure, enormous erotic veined ears, double-jointed saber-toothed-tiger jaws - but many strangers do still tend to greet me with a bit of the old soiling-the-trousers and fleeing-in-tears. That's why we did a musical - to show me in the proper light, as the icon I should be, rather than the freak you think you know. And poor, deluded Jacko - millions of dollars in plastic surgery and I ask you, does he yet resemble me? I give him an A for effort though.

VAUGHAN. One last ques - (Phone rings.)

EDGAR. Is that you?

VAUGHAN. I think it's -

FELLMETH. Maybe it's -

EDGAR. No, it's me. (Picks up phone.) Talk to me! Paulie! Tell me you've fixed it! … Federal, Paulie? New Jersey to New York is not crossing a state line, is it? … Really? … They're coming here? … I see … Well, if they think they're going to get Edgar Parker to do a perp walk just so they can get their pictures in the Weekly World News, they've got another think coming! … Ashcroft, Smash-croft, this is an affront, and I will not tolerate it! (Hangs up.) Gentlemen, I'm very sorry to cut this short, but I must go. Now.