Arthur is sitting on a rather plush loveseat with elegant wooden sides. He is a cow, very finely dressed in an understated way. Standing to the side, next to a lamp on a small table, is Tomas, wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The lamp has a pull-string. The stage is dark.

Tomas turns on the lamp.

Tomas- So, Arthur. It would seem you are sitting on my late father’s love seat. That seems pretty presumptuous for a cow, albeit one that CAN TALK!
Arthur- What of it, Tomas? What grudge do you bear me?

Tomas sits down on the loveseat and puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Tomas- Frank isn’t around to take your side any more, Arthur.

Arthur looks at Tomas. Tomas moves his hand to the armrest on the loveseat.

Arthur- How can you think of that after the funeral?
Tomas- I’ve thought of nothing else for days. We all have our quirks, though, don’t we, Arthur? You for example, being a cow who CAN TALK!
Arthur- Listen, Tomas. Can we talk later? I was hoping to spend some time alone.

Arthur stands up.

Tomas- (tense) Where do you think you’re going, Arthur?
Arthur- I’m going to the kitchen.
Tomas- If you leave, you’re not coming back. I’m not bullsh---ing you, Arthur.
Arthur- (walking slowly to the side of the stage, and an imagined door) Haha… a pun, right? Because I’m a bull? You haven’t lost your wit, Tomas.
Tomas- I’m serious. You’re not going anywhere.
Arthur- (frantic) Where the hell is the door, Tomas? (a pause) Tomas?

Arthur turns around to face the loveseat. Tomas has gotten up and is standing behind the loveseat with his back to Arthur. His hands are out of sight.

Arthur- What’s going on?
Tomas- Feeling a bit trapped, Arthur? There aren’t any doors.
Arthur- (muttering) There aren’t any doors…
Tomas- How did you get in here, Arthur?
Arthur- No doors…
Tomas- You’re showing remarkable composure for a talking cow.
Arthur- No way out.

Tomas turns around.

Tomas- This is your home, Arthur. You’re a talking cow. Where are you going to go?
Arthur- Thank god… finally talking sense.
Tomas- I’m not going to make my father’s mistake.
Arthur- Your father?
Tomas- You’re a talking cow, Arthur. I mean, what the hell? You’re a mistake. You’re a monster. A house with a talking cow is not a healthy environment.
Arthur- None of this is real.
Tomas- I’ll say. Why aren’t in a field somewhere on four legs? Where did you get that bow-tie?

Arthur takes a step towards Tomas.

Tomas- Stay back. I’m going to end this.
Arthur- You’re going to end this? You’re the mistake, Tomas. What do you think you’re doing? You’re a character in a play I wrote.
Tomas- You sound pretty sure of yourself, Arthur. A talking cow and aspiring playwright. Impressive.
Arthur- Thank you. One has to pass the time somehow.
Tomas- You might be right, Arthur. You could have created me. But it doesn’t matter now. I’m in control.

Tomas holds his hands up. He is holding a bucket and a stool which were concealed behind the loveseat.

Tomas- (walking forward slowly) I’m going to milk you, Arthur.
Arthur- Stay back. (He laughs nervously). Stay back, Tomas.
Tomas- Laugh while you can, Arthur.

The stage begins to darken.

Arthur- Tomas? Tomas?

The stage is now totally dark.

Arthur- Tomas?

The stool is set down on the stage audibly.

Arthur- Mooooooooooooooooooo!