Act 1, scene 1. An empty lot near Scotland Drive.
Thunder and lightning. Enter three sisters, all RESNET-certified.
When shall we three meet again,
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When the drywall work is done,
When the zoning battle’s won.
The lawyers sure are having fun!
What’s the sign?
A Christmas wreath.
We shall meet there with Macbeth.
Where hast thou been, sister?
Smashing recessed cans.
Look what I have.
Show me, show me.
Here I have a thermostat,
With wi-fi, girls. This stat can chat.
A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come.
Enter Macbeth and Banquo
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Who are these workers,
So withered and so wild in their attire?
Speak, if you can: what are you?
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, ranch home developer!
All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Energy Star builder!
All hail, Macbeth! Thou shalt build a Passivhaus!
[To Macbeth]: Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair?
[To the three sisters:] Strange women,
You greet my friend with several great predictions
Of rising skills and energy performance,
Foreseeing that he’ll build much tighter homes:
Point six air changes at 50 Pascals!
Could this be true? Forsooth, his homes are junk.
He seems befuddled now. Foretell some more:
If you can look into the seeds of time,
And say which grain will grow and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
Your favors nor your hate.
Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
Not so happy, yet much happier.
Thou shalt swing a hammer, but get no credit or awards.
Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!
Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
For sure, I know that I can frame a ranch,
But Energy Star? I’d have to study up,
And I don’t think my house could ever pass.
And then, you say, I’ll build a Passivhaus!
To think my building skills would reach that far
Stands not within the prospect of belief.
Energy raters vanish
Whither are they vanished?
Into the air. Would they had stayed!
Were such things here as we do speak about?
You shall swing a hammer.
And you shall build a Passivhaus.
Enter Ross and Angus
I bring glad tidings from the EPA:
Sam Rashkin has decreed, Macbeth, today
A special honor that he just dreamed up.
You build a lot of houses, and we need
To get production builders on our team.
So Sam decided, sight unseen, to grant
A label for your latest model home:
“Energy Star,” it says. Just slap it on.
What, can the devil speak true?
Why do you dress me in borrowed robes?
Although the label is an honorary one,
Sam Rashkin hopes that you will be inspired
To get a Star for all your future homes.
An Energy Star label! Can Passivhaus be far behind?
[To Banquo] It sounds like you will swing a hammer soon,
Since Rashkin gave the label for my home.
So far, it’s just a label. But ’tis strange.
[Aside] Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the Passivhaus theme. This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill, cannot be good. I have a label.
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion,
To use the product that gets stuck in hair,
And empties out my checkbook with one bill,
The two-component stuff? Seal up my house?
If Passivhaus is what I seek, then how?
The only way I know is with spray foam.
This thought — to use spray foam on every surface now —
Is sure to work, but scares me half to death.
Look, how our partner’s rapt.
[Aside] Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
Scene 2. Macbeth’s house
Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter
“They met me with predictions — very strange —
and some of them came true. And when I tried
to question them further, they made themselves air,
into which they vanished. While I stood rapt
in the wonder of it, came missives from Rashkin, who
granted me a label, just the way the sisters predicted.”
Thou art an Energy Star builder, and shall be
What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full of the milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way.
Enter a Messenger
What are your tidings?
The zoning board meets tonight.
The zoning board! Tonight!
So close it is to Christmas, yet they meet?
We must complete the house on Scotland Drive!
The old fait accompli?
Indeed, ’twere best we finished up real fast.
For after three more meetings by the board,
Our goose could well be cooked. Call Mac!
We’re running out of time. Macbeth
Must build a Passivhaus, and build it soon.
I don’t care how! Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty!
Great builder! O, my Labeled One!
Thy letters have transported me beyond
This ignorant present, and I feel now
The future in the instant.
Is’t true? The zoning board meets tonight?
Yes. What shall we do?
Build twice as fast. The old fait accompli.
Seal up that house just like a Zip-Lock bag!
And don’t look back! Use any trick you can!
The Passivhaus prediction shall be ours.
Leave all the rest to me.
Scene 3. Macbeth’s house.
If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well
It were done quickly: if polyurethane
Can plug up all my errors, and deliver
A blower-door result of oh-point-six
Then calling in the closed-cell spray-foam truck
Might be the be-all and the end-all here.
Enter Lady Macbeth
How now! what news?
Joe, the spray foam guy, says he can come tonight.
Joe, that untrained guy who’s cheap?
They say he’s cheap, but good.
We will proceed no further in this business:
I’ve gotten to this point without spray foam,
Another method must be found to get
The Passivhaus certificate I seek.
The house on Scotland Drive is full of holes.
You know there is no way to seal it up
Without spray foam. Art thou afraid
To follow through with tools that match your dreams?
And will you live a coward in your own esteem?
If we should fail?
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we’ll not fail. Step one: use lots of foam;
Step two: call up the drywall crew, and quick,
And cover up the foam so no one knows.
For green construction, I have heard it said,
The walls should all be filled with wool or hemp —
I think. Or not… I’m not quite sure just what
The greenie crowd expects.
I am settled. I will undertake
This dastardly and unexpected deed.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
Act 2, scene 1. Macbeth’s house.
Is this a spray wand which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
And on thy handle I see gobs of foam,
Which was not so before. There’s no such thing:
It is the sticky business which informs
Thus to mine eyes.
A bell rings
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, greenies; for it is a knell
That summons me to spray my building shell.
Scene 2. Macbeth’s house.
Enter Lady Macbeth
Alack, I am afraid that he backed out,
And ’tis not done. The attempt and not the deed
I have done the deed.
[Looking at his foam-covered hands]
This is a sorry sight.
A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
We sprayed the ceilings, walls, and everything.
There’s foam on all our clothes, and on our hands,
And on the floor, and also on the tub.
Consider it not so deeply.
I fear the tub is ruined.
These deeds must not be thought
After these ways; so, it will make us mad.
Methought I heard a voice cry “Soak no more!
Macbeth has wrecked the tub.” A bubble bath,
Tub that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast…
What the hell are you talking about?
The voice cried “Soak no more!” to all the house:
“Macbeth has wrecked the tub. Macbeth will soak no more.”
Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy fool,
You do unbend your noble strength to think
So brainsickly of things. Go get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.
I am afraid to think what I have done.
Infirm of purpose!
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash cured foam
Clean from my hand?
My hands are of your color; but I shame
To wear a heart so white.
A little water clears us of this deed:
How easy is it, then!
Scene 3. The house on Scotland Drive.
Enter Lennox and Macbeth
The night has been unruly: where we lay,
Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,
Lamentings heard in the air; strange screams of death.
’Twas a rough night.
O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart
Cannot conceive nor name thee!
The master bath has been destroyed
With gobs and gobs of overspray.
What is it you say? The tub?
Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new horror: do not bid me speak;
See, and then speak yourselves.
Scene 4. Outside Macbeth’s house.
Enter Ross and an Old Man
Threescore and ten I can remember well:
Within the volume of which time I have seen
Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.
Here comes the good Macduff.
Is it known who did this more-than-messy deed?
’Twas Joe, the spray foam guy.
’Tis strange indeed he worked on Christmas Eve.
Today the blower-door contractor came,
And said the house tests out at oh-point-six.
It’s tight enough, it seems, for Passivhaus.
Some say that certification is assured.
Well, Macbeth, you’ve got your labels now:
Builder, Energy Star, and Passivhaus.
As the weird women promised, and, I fear,
Thou playedst most foully for it.
Adieu! Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!
Act 3, scene 1. A vacant lot.
Thunder. Enter the three energy raters.
Thrice the mastic has been spread.
Thrice, and once the builder whined.
The GC cries, “ ’Tis time, ’tis time.”
All three sisters:
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Caulk shall seal, and spray foam bubble.
How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
I conjure you, by that which you profess,
To answer certain questions.
What dangers do I face in days to come?
Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware of lingering odors!
Whate’er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
But still I have more questions…
Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be until
Global climate change shall cause to melt
All ice in Glacier National Park.
That will never be. The unproved tale
That CO2 will warm the planet up
Is nothing but a rumor and a myth.
Scene 2. An open field.
Enter Macduff and Malcolm
Bake, bake, poor country! The land is drying up,
And temperatures are rising all the time.
I think our country sinks beneath the smoke;
It sweats, it bakes; and every summer day
Brings record highs anew.
Where stands ours country now?
Alas, poor country!
Almost afraid to cure itself. It cannot
Be call’d our mother, but our grave; where everyone
Burns fossil fuel, all heedless of the times.
Where droughts and floods are plaguing east and west,
And every summer’s hotter than the last.
Scene 3. Macbeth’s house, at night.
Enter a Doctor and a Waiting-Gentlewoman
‘Tis strange indeed that you still house-calls make.
Should we observe her now?
Enter Lady Macbeth, with a candle
Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise;
and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.
You see, her eyes are open.
Ay, but their sense is shut.
Look, how she rubs her hands.
Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
Will nothing clean cured foam from tender skin?
Do you mark that?
What, will these hands ne’er be clean?
Here’s the smell of foam still:
All the perfumes of Arabia
Will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!
This disease is beyond my practice.
Wash your hands; look not so pale.
I tell you yet again, the Passivhaus certificate is ours.
To bed, to bed! What’s done cannot be undone.
To bed, to bed, to bed!
More needs she the divine than the physician.
God, God forgive us all!
Good night, good doctor.
Scene 4. Outdoors.
Till all the ice in Glacier National Park
Melts into water, I will have no fear.
Enter a nervous servant
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
Where got’st thou that goose look?
There is a smell…
A smell, sir. Very much like rotten fish.
Thou lily-livered boy! What smell, you fool?
The spray foam in the house. It stinks.
Begone! Take thy face hence!
I have lived long enough: my way of life
Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf;
And that which should accompany old age,
The Ranch Home Builder of the Year Award,
I must not look to have; but, in its stead,
On both my hands, cured foam that can’t be cleaned,
And ling’ring odors, just like rotten fish.
But still I have no fear of death or dark,
As long as ice remains in Glacier Park.
Scene 5. Macbeth’s house.
Enter Macbeth and Seyton. A cry of women within.
What is that noise?
It is the cry of women, I’m afraid.
My lord, the Passivhaus Institut
Has rescinded certification on your house.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps at this petty pace from day to day
Until the last punch list is all complete.
And all my building permits and my plans
Have barely brought me profit after all.
The backhoes are all quiet now, and I
Am but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Enter a Messenger
Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.
Well, say, sir.
As I was watching CNN today,
I heard reports about the heat out West.
Montana’s weather has been hot for months,
And now the ice in Glacier Park is gone.
Liar and slave!
Let me endure your wrath, if it be not so:
The ice is gone, the glaciers are no more.
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
We’ll die with fall-protection harness on our back.
Scene 6. Outdoors.
Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
On mine own sword?
Of all men else I have avoided thee:
You’re on the zoning board — is that not right?
This letter’s from the board: you house has been condemned.
“Fait accompli” won’t fly here anymore.
Your setback violations shall not stand.
The demolition crew will come at noon.
They won’t! I will not yield!
You will, Macbeth. The lawyers say you’re doomed.
Macbeth will build no more. Let others learn
From your absurd mistakes: build green, my friends,
But not in sloppy haste. ’Twas speed and greed
That brought to disrepute, at end of life,
A foolish builder and his wicked wife.
2010 Christmas parody: Christmas Carols from the Energy Nerd
2009 Christmas parody: ’Twas the Night Before Christmas