Scene 1  “Sundays Always Make Me Feel Patriotic…”

The Washington Post March plays.  It is not the Fourth of July.  There is a brief parade led by the DRUM MAJORETTE.  She is watched closely by JIMMY, who stands in a corner leering at her most distinctive features while fiddling with an orange.  DRUM is pretty handy with a baton and she loves The Washington Post March…perhaps a bit too much.  DRUM is followed by her boyfriend, KNEE JERK, who is chewing on a corndog with intent.  THE TUBERCULAR GIRL is standing along the route…and coughing.
NICK stands and smokes.  IZZY and KAREN are watching from a different location.  IZZY holds her hand, while she scratches the back of her neck with the other one.  FANNY, the evil scientist and her androgynous assistant H watch the parade while making evil calculations in their notebooks.
PIRATE JENNY marches in the parade.  She has an eyepatch and is wearing typical pirate garb.
GOOD BOY marches in the parade with a recorder which he pretends to play.  He takes a guilty pleasure in this dishonesty, as it is the only dishonesty he ever commits.
FLAGSTAFF brings up the rear of the parade and throws little bags of peanuts or pretzels or some such appetizers into the audience.  As the parade winds down UNCLE JOHN enters.  He is met enthusiastically by DRUM who gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

DRUM:  Uncle John, this has been the best Sunday all year!

UNCLE JOHN:  Yep…better than last week by far.

DRUM:  I don’t know how we’ll outdo it next week.

UNCLE JOHN:  You’ll find a way, Drum.  You’ll find a way.

DRUM:  Uncle John?

UNCLE JOHN:  Uh-huh?

DRUM:  What’s the difference between a pulsar and a quasar?

KJ:  Is this gonna take long?

DRUM:  I’m trying to figure something out!

KJ:    Well, what do I do with this?

[Holds up a corndog.]

DRUM:  Why don’t you eat it?

KJ:  Alright, but if I barf on The Road Runner I’m gonna barf all over you.

DRUM:  Whatever you say, KJ.

[KJ leaves taking alternate bites from the corndogs.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Girl, I don’t know what you see in him.

DRUM:  Sometimes I don’t know either.

UNCLE JOHN:  He’s a football player, isn’t he?

DRUM:  Yes.

UNCLE JOHN:  You might try looking into baseball, it’s a gentleman’s sport.

DRUM:  I’ve never given much thought to baseball.

[KJ enters.]

KJ:  Hey Drum!  Look at this!

[He stuffs both corndogs in his mouth at once.]

DRUM:  That’s real nice, KJ.

[KJ exits.]

DRUM:  Life just ain’t simple, is it?

UNCLE JOHN:  No, it’s anything but that.

DRUM:  Uncle John, what’s love?

UNCLE JOHN:  Love is a quasar, way out on the edge of the universe.

DRUM:  Then what’s a pulsar?

UNCLE JOHN:  It’s a different kind of love.

[pause]

DRUM:  Thanks Uncle John.  You’re the best.  [Exits.]

[JIMMY enters, with an orange.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy

JIMMY:  John.

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  John.

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  John.

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Jimmy.

UNCLE JOHN:  John—damn, you’re good.  How’s the world of oranges, Jimmy?

JIMMY:  Rotten.  Nobody likes oranges these days.
You know what people drink in the morning?  Coffee.
Used to be people would drink some orange juice in the morning, maybe peel an orange for lunch and have some sort of orange dessert with dinner.  People suck.

UNCLE JOHN:  Well, you’re young.  Give people a chance.
They’ll come back around.

JIMMY:  The orange is a thing of wonder.  It’s like an Italian Renaissance fresco—
the color, the texture, the aroma, the taste, the way the pulp flies into your face when you beat up some coffee drinking punk with it.

UNCLE JOHN:  Have you tried branching out into other citrus fruit?

JIMMY:  Are you saying the orange isn’t good enough for the kind of individual study
that has been given to the grape?

UNCLE JOHN:  I would never say anything of the kind.

JIMMY:  The orange is the most important fruit in the world.

UNCLE JOHN:  Amen.

JIMMY:  If citrus is good

UNCLE JOHN: And it is—
JIMMY:  Then the orange is the greatest.

UNCLE JOHN:  Hallelujah.

JIMMY:  This unfair oppression of the orange and its supporters must end.

UNCLE JOHN:  The orange has been undervalued.

JIMMY:  And when I get to be in charge of things I’m going to make sure that the
orange is recognized as the first among fruits.  Good day, John.

UNCLE JOHN:  Good day, Jimmy.

[He takes a deep breath as JIMMY exits.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Well, that’s the town.  Not a bad place.  Nice folks, you know, real nice.

[He smiles broadly, satisfied.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Sundays always make me feel patriotic.
 

Lights change immediately into the next scene.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 2   “Smoldering Women”

Nick takes the stage.

NICK:  Everybody’s got something.  I love women who smoke.  Don’t get me wrong,
it’s not a sexual thing.  It’s a nicotine thing.  I love the smell.  I need the smell.  When I kiss a girl who’s been smoking I get a buzz that you can’t imagine.
It’s like my pants are on fire, my juices boiling over, my heart beats faster.
I feel like I could run from here to Tierra del Fuego and back.
Okay, maybe it’s a sexual thing too, the way they wrap their lips around that filter and sip the smoky air into their mouths and whisper it out like a tender word to a lover on a Tuesday morning.  Where was I going with this?  Oh, yeah, the butts.  You see, I had a girlfriend who was a vegetarian—I mean, she still is a vegetarian, she’s just not my girlfriend anymore—And she made me quit eating meat, and quit smoking and quit shooting skeet on weekends.

SOMEONE IN THE AUDIENCE:  Why’d she make you stop shooting skeet?

NICK:  She wanted to spend more quality time with me.  Anyhow, once I was a
 vegetarian non-smoking guy with nothing to do she dumped me.

SOMEONE IN THE AUDIENCE:  Why’d she dump you?

NICK:  She said I was boring.

THE AUDIENCE GUY:  Bummer.  So where were you going with this?

[The guy from the audience, IZZY, now gets up on stage with Nick.]

NICK:  I don’t know.  I guess I want to make some sort of bitter generalization about all
 women or all vegetarian women or all vegetarians but that just isn’t logical.
You can’t make sweeping arguments about a group of people based on an isolated experience.

IZZY:  You’re moralizing.

NICK:  I guess I am.  There’s nothing wrong with that, though.

IZZY:  You want a smoke?

NICK:  Nah.  Like I said, I quit.

IZZY:  Why don’t you just…
 Never mind.

NICK:  There’s just something about the smell of tobacco in a woman’s blouse…
IZZY:  I love a girl who’s always scratching herself.

NICK:  Everybody’s got something.

IZZY:  No.  I mean my girlfriend is always scratching herself.  It’s driving me crazy.

NICK:  Where does she scratch herself?

IZZY:  All over.  Makes me want to throw up sometimes.

NICK:  Scratch and let scratch; that’s what I say.

IZZY:  I lean in to kiss her, everything’s feeling fine and WHAM!  She’s got her
hands moving like crazy all over herself and I can’t even get close to her because I’m afraid I’ll get cut open.

NICK:  Think it might be scabies?

IZZY:  Scabies?

NICK:  It might be scabies.

IZZY:  They have medication for that?

NICK:  Yeah, I think so.

IZZY:  Thanks.    I’ll take her over to the doctor tomorrow.

NICK:  It’s contagious, you know.

[IZZY bolts out.]

NICK:  Live and let live, I say.  [Pause.]
I could really go for a Camel woman about now.

[THE TUBERCULAR GIRL enters coughing.  NICK eyes her rapaciously.  She coughs.
He watches her.  She exits.  He gives a thumbs up to the audience with a smile and follows her. Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 3   “Chicken In The Straw”

Music: Something along the lines of Tijuana Taxi, or maybe something from a Czech swing band.  A man and a woman enter dancing cheek to cheek.  At a certain point the music stops, the man gives the woman a look.

CHICKEN MAN:  Chickens.

[The music resumes for a while and they dance some more.  The music stops again.]

CHICKEN MAN:  Chickens.

[The music resumes.  They resume dancing.  The man twirls the woman. The music stops. He dips her.]

CHICKEN MAN:  Chickens.

[They resume dancing.  As they dance another man and woman enter dancing.  CHICKEN MAN takes notice of the new couple, especially the new woman, and is obviously distracted by her presence.  His partner is obviously annoyed.  The music stops. ]

DUCK WOMAN:  Duck.

[The music resumes and DUCK WOMAN and her partner exit.  CHICKEN MAN watches her closely as she leaves.  The music stops. ]

CHICKEN MAN [in awe]:  Du-uck.

[His partner slaps him.]

PARTNER LADY:  Chicken!

[The music resumes.  They exit in opposite directions.  Lights out.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 4   “Scratching the Surface”

IZZY and KAREN enter.  KAREN is scratching herself furiously.

IZZY: Okay, so it isn’t scabies.

KAREN:  Not scabies.

IZZY:  What about lice?

KAREN: It’s not lice.

IZZY:  You’re going to have to shave all your hair off.

KAREN:  I’m not shaving my hair.

IZZY:  It’s the only way we can be sure.

KAREN:  Be sure of what?  How much I look like Sinead O’Connor?

IZZY:  You’re not helping out here.

KAREN:  You’re not being very supportive.

IZZY:  You’re scratching yourself like a crazy woman.

KAREN:  How do you think it feels on this end?

IZZY:  Well, I…

KAREN:  Bastard.

IZZY:  Alright, alright.  Let’s calm down here.  What else could it be?
Do you have a rash anywhere?

KAREN:  Why don’t you tell me?

IZZY:  I’ll take that as a no.

KAREN:  You know what we haven’t done for a really long time…

IZZY:  Maybe you’re allergic to something in your clothes.

KAREN:  I can take them off.
 

IZZY:  Stop right there.  I know where you’re going with this and I just want to remind
 you of what happened last time.

KAREN:  It was a little scratch.

IZZY:  If it had been any bigger I could have bled to death.

KAREN:  Jesus! You are the biggest baby I’ve ever had to deal with.

IZZY:  I am not a baby.  I am not a baby.

KAREN:  I have an idea.  Why don’t you just go very far away before I scratch your
 eyes out!

IZZY:  That’s fine with me.

KAREN:  Fine.

IZZY:  Fine.

[Pause.]

IZZY:  Do you want to try some lotion?

KAREN:  Do you think it would help?

IZZY:  I don’t know.  It’s worth a try.

KAREN:  I miss you.

IZZY:  I haven’t gone anywhere.

[Pause.]

IZZY:  Poison ivy!  When was the last time you went camping?

KAREN:  I don’t remember.

IZZY:  Maybe you ran into some poison ivy and just had a bad reaction to it.
Come on, let’s go.

KAREN:  Where are we going?

IZZY:   To the lab!

KAREN:  You’re crazy!
IZZY:  It’s our only chance.

KAREN:  Wait a minute!  What do you mean “our only chance?”

IZZY:  Our only chance to settle down and lead a normal scratchless life with kids
and stuff.

KAREN:  We have some talking to do—but it can wait until we get to the lab.

IZZY:  Alright, let’s go.

KAREN:  Wait!

IZZY:  What?

[She kisses him.]

KAREN:  For good luck.

[He winks at her and scratches the back of her neck.  They exit.  Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 5   “The Knee Jerk”

FLAGSTAFF enters with a bicycle horn, which can be honked on occasion to mark the end of a sentence or any uncomfortable silence.  The audience should be expecting some sort of clown/mime/comedian experience.  The audience is sadly mistaken.

FLAGSTAFF:  Good evening, folks.  Hope you’re having a fine stay in our town.
For those of you who like to pay attention to the program you’ll note that this scene is entitled “The Knee Jerk” and as you can see there is no jerking of knees going on here.  There is a reason for this.  The author, who is currently serving concurrent sentences in a minimum security detention facility, has taken up the Ancient Greek hobby of the parabasis wherein one of the actors comes forward and delivers a lecture to the unsuspecting audience which has been fooled into believing this is a wild meaningless comedy full of harmless fun.
So, as they said in fifth century Athens “let’s eat fish.” [Honk.]
Anyone here from Arizona?  Well, cover your ears.  My name is Flagstaff.  [Honk.]  I’m named for a town in Arizona that was named after a stick with a piece of cloth tied to it.   I suppose FlagPOLE wasn’t elegant enough for them;
or maybe it was too elegant.  Consider the roots of the word:  “Flag” from the Latin “Flagellum” for whip and “Pole” from the Greek “Polis” for city.  Hence, Whip City – Flagpole.
Instead we have Flagstaff, from the Norman for “stick with a flag on it.”
All of this is to say that Arizona itself is just a wrong wrong place.
Just plain wrong.  The most memorable thing about the state is the Grand Canyon, a monument to massive soil erosion.  And don’t get me started on the stupid time zone problem.  They don’t have daylight savings time there—which is not a particularly strange thing since they have plenty of daylight to go around—but that means that between figuring out if they’re in Pacific or Mountain time
(Hey, don’t expect me to tell you.  This isn’t educational theatre. Get an atlas!)
and figuring out how to adjust that for the fact that their time is not anything like THE REST OF THE UNION, you lose your desire to call anyone there.
The result is that you end up dumping your significant other because he/she is from Tucson.
Now, I know there are probably a couple of Arizoniacs here right now and you’re itching for a fight.  Well, you can take it up with the management.  They’ll take your complaints between 9 and 11 am.  I wish you the best of luck trying to figure out what time that is back in Scottsdale. [Honks the horn spitefully.]
Alright, on with the scene.  The town’s favorite girl, Drum, is about to walk in and set the place on fire. Metaphorically, that is.  Let’s just say that she and her boyfriend, KJ, aren’t seeing eye to eye.  [FLAGSTAFF honks as if he/she has just said the punchline, then exits in disgust.]

DRUM enters followed by KJ, who is chewing on a corndog. Their voices have preceded them.
 

DRUM:  I can’t believe you did that.

KJ:  What?!  I didn’t do anything wrong.

DRUM:  You don’t grab a girl’s…things in a pizza place.

KJ:  I was reaching for a corndog.

[DRUM furiously jerks the corndog away from him.]

DRUM:  This is a corndog.  This is my breast.  They’re not even closely related.

KJ:  Aw, come on.  Can you blame a guy for wantin’ a corndog?

DRUM:  My breasts are not corndogs!  Will you get that through your thick skull?

KJ:  Aw, come on, Drum.  I didn’t mean to…even though it was nice.

DRUM:  I told you I don’t do that, I said no, and then you go and put your greasy fingers
 all over my new shirt.  I hope you’re proud of yourself.

[Pause.  A moment of reflective silence.]

KJ:  Hey!  Did you just say I have a thick skull?

DRUM:  I didn’t just say anything.

KJ:  You think I have some sort of big head?

DRUM:  I didn’t say anything about your head, KJ.

KJ:  You think my head’s too big, dontchya?

DRUM:  KJ, you’re being a fool.

KJ:  Oh, yeah, there you go, calling the big head guy an idiot.  You know, come to think
of it, you’re always making fun of me. Calling me a fool or a big-head or a pumpkin or some other kind of leg-ume.

DRUM:  KJ, a pumpkin ain’t a leg-ume.

KJ:  Don’t give me any more of your lip.  Of course it’s a leg-ume.
Just like squash and zuh-kini.

DRUM:  They ain’t leg-umes either.

KJ:  Oh, and what are they, Miss “I don’t want you to get pizza sauce on my titty”?

DRUM:  They ain’t legumes!

KJ:  Don’t tell me what’s a leg-ume and what isn’t a leg-ume.  I’m the one studyin’ Ag.

DRUM:  And you should know better than to call a pumpkin a leg-ume.

KJ:  I can call a pumpkin whatever I wants to call it.  If I want to call it your mama,
I can do that too.

DRUM:  My mama?  My mama?  I oughta slap you!

KJ:  I’d slap you right back, pumpkin-mama.

[DRUM throws the corndog at KJ.  It bounces off his big head.]

KJ:  Oh, that’s reealll good.   Wastin’ a perfectly good corndog.

DRUM:  I’m gonna take that big head right off that thick neck of yours.

KJ:  I’d like to see you try, drummer girl.

DRUM:  What did you just call me?

KJ:  Drummer girl.  Drummer girl.

DRUM:  You know I don’t like that.

KJ:  Drummer girl.

DRUM:  I never liked that name.

KJ:  Drummer girl.

DRUM:  I think you’d better leave now.

KJ:  See if I ever grab your hooha again.

DRUM:  You know, I was thinking of giving you something real special someday.

KJ:  Save it for someone who cares, drummer girl.

[KJ picks up the corndog and exits.  DRUM pauses, starts to follow but is intercepted by JIMMY who is playing with an orange.]

DRUM:  Jimmy

JIMMY:  Drum.

DRUM:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Drum.

DRUM:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Jimmy.

DRUM:  Drum.  Damn, you’re good.

JIMMY:  I know.

DRUM:  What’s the good word?

JIMMY:  Benign.

DRUM:  Listen, Jimmy I have to – How much of that did you hear?

JIMMY:  What?

DRUM:  That.

JIMMY:  What that?

DRUM:  Me and KJ.

JIMMY:  Oh, that.

DRUM:  Yeah, that.

JIMMY:  Enough.  Rough day?

DRUM:  Nobody’s called me Drummer Girl since my daddy left with that stripper.
 It makes me feel…it makes me feel…

JIMMY:  You want an orange?  They’re good for you.

DRUM:   That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today.

JIMMY:  You see, the peel of the orange is like foreplay: a firm embrace, the scent rises
in the air, your eyes catch a glimpse of the flesh of the orange and you can almost taste it.
DRUM: Oh, Jimmy, you’re making me blush.

JIMMY:  Now, the pulp of the orange—

[DRUM kisses him quickly.]

DRUM:  I’m sorry.  I don’t know what got into me.

JIMMY:  It’s a normal reaction.  The smell of oranges is the smell of sex.

DRUM:  Really?

JIMMY:  Yeah.  More people would know that if they paid attention to the orange,
but people suck.

[DRUM kisses him.]

DRUM:  I’m sorry.  I’m just going crazy.  I suppose this is what they call a rebound.

JIMMY:  I don’t know.  Basketball isn’t my game. I’m more of a baseball man.

DRUM:  Really?

JIMMY:  Yeah.  More people would know that if they broke up with their
boyfriends and kissed me.

[He starts to leave.]

DRUM:  Wait!  Tell me about The Georgia Peach!

JIMMY:  Well, he was originally known as the Valencia Orange, but then he got bought
 off by those rotten peach growers…

[They exit. Lights fade out.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 6   “The Evil Scientist”

The lights come up to reveal the Lair of the Evil Scientist, or a laboratory.
It need not be spooky looking.  It can be very antiseptic looking or it can look like the home of the witches from Macbeth.  Fanny, the Evil Scientist and her androgynous assistant, H, are working on scientific things.  There is an open can of Pepsi somewhere in the lab.

FANNY:  Three cc’s of phallic acid.

H:  Three cc’s of phallic acid.

FANNY:  One milligram of sea salt.

H:  One milligram of sea salt.

FANNY:  A pinch of dried parsley.

H:  A pinch of dried parsley.

FANNY:  And one liter of Pepsi.

H:  One liter of Pepsi.  I don’t understand what’s so evil about that.

FANNY:  You’ll see.  Have you ever seen a cat explode when it goes for the kitty litter?

H:  Not since I was a little child.

FANNY:  Well, this is even more evil than that.

H:  It seems like it would just be a slightly over-seasoned soft drink.

FANNY:  Not just a slightly over-seasoned soft drink, but an evil beverage capable of
causing instant impotence along with severe gastric discomfort and it makes people’s lips turn lime green for anywhere between two and five days.

H:  That is evil.

FANNY:  Deliciously evil.  Delightfully evil.  Deliriously evil.  Damn evil.

H: Would you like to celebrate your evil beverage with a sponge bath and a relaxation
 tape?  We have the one with the seagulls and Pachelbel’s Canon.

FANNY:  No, H, it’s not evil enough for that, maybe just a bag of cheetos and a
 leeching. I think I’m getting too much color in my face.

H:  I think Madame is looking as delightfully pale as ever.

FANNY:     Yes, well I don’t actually care what you think, H.  I don’t pay you to think.

H:  You don’t pay me.

FANNY:  Oh, that’s right.  I am evil.

[IZZY and KAREN enter.  KAREN is scratching herself furiously.]

KAREN:  Hi.

FANNY:  Hello.

KAREN:  I was wondering—

FANNY:  Come on, out with it.

KAREN:  I was just—

FANNY:  Give me the information!

KAREN:  Well—

FANNY:  If you don’t start talking your friend there will be given a foul beverage
which will make his eyes turn purple and all his hair will fall out.

KAREN:  I—

FANNY:  Talk!

KAREN:  I need skin cream!

FANNY:  Skin cream?

KAREN:  I’m itching like crazy.  I can’t stop.

FANNY:  How compulsive and repulsive.  It might even be evil.
Why did you come here?  Why didn’t you go to Dave the Pharmacist?

IZZY:  We thought you’d know more about this than Dave the Pharmacist.

FANNY:  So, you acknowledge my greater powers.

IZZY:  Ummm, yeah.

KAREN:  Sure.

FANNY:  Let’s see it.

[KAREN shows her arm or some other afflicted (and humorous) part of her body.]

FANNY:  Yes.  Yes.  This is exquisite.  H, fill an atomizer with X-40-UR 238.

H: X-40-UR 238.

FANNY:  Good.  Very good.  Take this and spray it all over your body three times a day.
 Try to stay out of the sun and keep yourself in damp air.

KAREN:  Okay.  Do you think it’ll work?

FANNY:  Oh, it should do wonders for you.

IZZY:  Whatever you say.

KAREN:  Thank you.

FANNY:  Oh, go on.

IZZY:  I don’t care what the sign says.  You’re not so evil after all.

FANNY:  Oh, get out.

IZZY:  No, really.

FANNY:  Get out, now.

[IZZY and KAREN exit. They can still be heard offering their profuse thanks even as
H herds them out.]

H:  I don’t understand.  Won’t X-40-UR 238 cause her to have dermatic graphism?

[FANNY nods maliciously with a big “Would you like some pie with that?” smile.]

H:  But won’t that just aggravate her symptoms and make her scratch more which
will then aggravate the dermatic graphism and make her scratch even more thus trapping her in an endless cycle of torment?

[Fanny nods maliciously and grins the big grin.]

H:  But they came to you for help.

FANNY:  What do people expect when they come to an evil scientist?  Evil, perhaps?
Maybe a little bit of malicious venom to put some spice in their bland meaningless lives.

H:  It seems to me they just wanted for her to stop scratching herself.

FANNY:  What, and lose the one thing about them that’s interesting?
Oh, H, you have a lot to learn about evil.

[JIMMY enters, with oranges.]

FANNY:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Fanny.

FANNY:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Fanny.

FANNY:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  H.

H:  Jimmy.

FANNY:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Fanny.

FANNY:  Jimmy.

H:  Fanny.

FANNY:  H.

JIMMY:  Jimmy.

FANNY:  Fanny.

H:  H.

JIMMY:  Jimmy.

FANNY:  Fan—we should really put an end to this.

JIMMY:  Rough day in the lab?
FANNY:  It’s always a rough day in the lab.  There’s not enough evil in this town.
 Rough day for the orange business?

JIMMY:  It’s always a rough day for the orange business.  No one buys oranges,
because people suck.

FANNY:  Yes, they do, and I love it.  What’s the word on the street, Jimmy?

JIMMY:  Stop.

[Everyone stops for a moment.]

FANNY:  Rough day for the orange business?

JIMMY:  It’s always a rough day for oranges.  People suck.

FANNY:  Yes, and I love it.  What’s the word on the street?

JIMMY:  Stop.

[Everyone stops for a moment.]

FANNY:  I see where you’re going with this and it’s positively evil.
 Why don’t you give me what I want, Jimmy?  Give it to me now.

[JIMMY goes over to her and holds her tight, then offers her an orange.]

FANNY:  No, not that.  You know what I really want.

JIMMY:  Oranges are tasty and a source of Vitamin C.

FANNY:  I don’t want your oranges, Jimmy, I just want some Vitamin J,
straight from the tree.

JIMMY:  You suck.

FANNY:  I know.  Let’s do something evil.  You know how to be evil, don’t you?

[FANNY whispers something in JIMMY’s ear.  JIMMY squeezes the orange in his hand.  He can’t say no.  He exits with FANNY, dropping the squeezed orange to the floor.
H cleans up the orange and proceeds to refill FANNY’s juice container by squeezing the remnants of the orange into it while smiling maliciously.  Blackout.]
 
 
 

Scene 7   “Ducksyland”

Lights up.  Dixieland Music.  Upbeat.  DUCK WOMAN and her partner enter dancing.  After a while the music stops.

DUCK WOMAN:  Duck.

[The music resumes.  They dance again.  The music stops.]

DUCK WOMAN:  Duck.

[Music resumes.  They dance.  CHICKEN MAN and his partner enter.  He is still staring at DUCK WOMAN, which infuriates his partner.  This goes on for a while.  The music stops.]

CHICKEN MAN:  Chickens.

DUCK WOMAN:  Duck.

[The music resumes.  PARTNER LADY tries to get CHICKEN MAN’s attention.  She fails.  She tries several physical means of getting him to look away from the DUCK WOMAN.  CHICKEN MAN, in a deft maneuver, twirls PARTNER LADY into PARTNER MAN’s arms and starts dancing with DUCK WOMAN.  They are enchanted with each other.  PARTNER LADY is more than a bit miffed.  She tries to slug CHICKEN MAN but knocks out PARTNER MAN instead.  The music stops and the dancing ends with a flourish.]

DUCK WOMAN:  Duck.

CHICKEN MAN:  Chickens.

PARTNER LADY:  Bastard!

PARTNER MAN [On the floor, slightly slurred.]:  I love youuuu!

[The three standing people turn around and look at him askance.  Lights go out.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 8   “Pirate Grrrls!”

Lights come back up to reveal GOOD BOY dancing and singing along to “Touch Me” by The Doors.  PIRATE JENNY enters and watches with amusement.  UNCLE JOHN enters and taps on GOOD BOY’s shoulder.  This makes GOOD BOY look at PIRATE JENNY and he blushes and gets all embarrassed and everything.

PIRATE JENNY:  Good Boy?

GOOD BOY:  Hi.  I’m sorry.

PIRATE JENNY:    Why?

GOOD BOY:  I don’t know.  I’m sorry.

PIRATE JENNY:  Cut that out!

GOOD BOY:  I’m sorry.  Oh, sorry.  I mean—You’re Pirate Jenny, right?

PIRATE JENNY:  Yes, I am.

[A moment of awkward silence.  It is broken only when FLAGSTAFF enters honking and whispers something to UNCLE JOHN they have a brief silent quarrel before FLAGSTAFF gets UNCLE JOHN to come around to his way of seeing things.  This may involve some degree of gunplay and maybe the old banana peel trick or a seltzer bottle in the face.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Alright, we all know where this is going.
So let’s get past the preliminaries.

FLAGSTAFF:  Good Boy likes Pirate Jenny, but of course, he’s a very good boy.

UNCLE JOHN:  And too shy to admit it.

GOOD BOY:  I like your patch.

PIRATE JENNY:  Thanks.

UNCLE JOHN:  Of course, Pirate Jenny likes Good Boy too.
Only she’s afraid that he may like her just because it’s the “bad” thing to do.

FLAGSTAFF:  And, she’s self conscious about her social status as a pirate.

GOOD BOY:  I like your shirt, too.

PIRATE JENNY:  Yeah, you can’t go wrong with classic red stripes.
UNCLE JOHN:  You see, brigands, buccaneers, privateers and their like aren’t really
 accepted by most societies.

FLAGSTAFF:  This town is no real exception.  I mean it’s not as bad as Yuma or
 anything like that, but people are always giving Pirate Jenny strange glances.

GOOD BOY:  Is there something wrong with your eye?

UNCLE JOHN:  Her name doesn’t help her much either.

FLAGSTAFF:  I mean, Pirate Jenny.  That sort of says it all.

PIRATE JENNY:  I lost it in a sea-battle.

FLAGSTAFF:  The pirate’s life is filled with danger.  Boys like that.

UNCLE JOHN:  Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable than fidelity.
 Faithfulness and truth are the most sacred excellences of the human mind.

FLAGSTAFF:  What does that have to do with anything?

UNCLE JOHN:  It’s Cicero.

FLAGSTAFF:  So?

GOOD BOY:  No, really, what happened to your eye?

PIRATE JENNY:  We were boarding a British merchantman, the SS Golliwog,
when we ran into trouble.  There was a scuffle and the Captain’s hook tore out my eye while we were grappling.

GOOD BOY:  Oh.

FLAGSTAFF:  What help is Cicero at a moment like this?

UNCLE JOHN:  Cicero was a great statesman.

FLAGSTAFF:  But could he play baseball?

UNCLE JOHN:  That’s irrelevant.

FLAGSTAFF:  I think it’s very relevant.

GOOD BOY:  Excuse me.

UNCLE JOHN:  They didn’t even have baseball then.
GOOD BOY:  Umm, excuse me.

FLAGSTAFF:  What if they had?

UNCLE JOHN:  Then Cicero would have played shortstop.

PIRATE JENNY:  Ahoy there!

FLAGSTAFF and UNCLE JOHN:  What?!

GOOD BOY:  We know you’re just trying to help us and we appreciate it, but—

PIRATE JENNY:  But we think you should take your old barnacle bottom baseball
 brawl somewhere else, maties.

[They nod their heads with a degree of shame for their shortsightedness.
They exit together.]

UNCLE JOHN:  I think Cicero would have played for the Red Sox…

GOOD BOY:  They mean well.

PIRATE JENNY:  Oh, I’m sure they do.  Do you want to get a beer?

GOOD BOY:  I don’t drink.

PIRATE JENNY:  Oh, right.

[A long awkward pause.]

PIRATE JENNY:  Listen, before you say something cute and sweet or pledge your
 undying love to me I think I should just say goodbye.

GOOD BOY:  Why goodbye?

PIRATE JENNY:  I’m not the right girl for you.  I’m trouble…I drink. I get drunk.
I get into fights, I curse, I scream.  I have a horrible scar where I used to have an eye and I’m a pirate.

[A long pause.  GOOD BOY gets up, walks to PIRATE JENNY, flips up her eyepatch and kisses her eye, and gently replaces the eyepatch.]

GOOD BOY:  There.  That doesn’t look so bad.

[Blackout.  Music:  “Maneater” or something appropriate like that. Maybe a sea shanty.]
 

Scene 9   “The Tubercular Girl”

Lights, music, action.  NICK enters looking around furtively he exits.
THE TUBERCULAR GIRL enters coughing.  NICK peeks through a curtain (or some sort of conventional device wherein the audience can see him but THE TUBERCULAR GIRL can’t.  He walks up to her and sniffs at her for a moment.  He does this periodically during the next exchange.  He is also carrying some sort of cheese.

NICK:  Hey, you want some really good cheese?

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  Cheese?  [Coughs.] Me?

NICK:  Yeah, you.  You want some cheese.  I got this really good cheese and I thought
 I’d ask you if you wanted some.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  Why would I want cheese?  [Coughs.]

NICK:  Why would you not want cheese?

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  [Coughs.]  I don’t even know you.

NICK:  I can fix that.  I’m Nick.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  People call me TB.  [Coughs.]

NICK:  TB, eh?

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  No,  [Coughs.] just TB.

NICK:  Oh, TB.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  No, TB.

NICK:  Okay, TB.

TUBERCULAR GIRL [Coughs.]:  Just TB

NICK:  TB.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  Right.  TB.

[There is an awkward silence.  NICK appeals to the audience.  There is no help forthcoming.]

NICK:  I don’t suppose you have a smoke?

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  No, I don’t smoke.  [Coughs.]  It’s bad for my tuberculosis.

NICK:  Oh.

[A long awkward pause.  She coughs several times.]

NICK:  Boy, I could go for a couple of low comic characters telling me what
 I should do about now.

[No response.  She coughs.]

NICK:  So you don’t smoke at all?

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  No.

NICK:  But you used to smoke, right?  Just tell me you used to smoke.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  No, I’ve never been near a cigarette in my life.
If I smoke I’ll die.

NICK:  If she smokes she dies?!  Oh, Jeez.

[He falls to the floor, perhaps with a few convulsions.]

NICK:  I think I’m going through withdrawal.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  Do you need some help?

NICK:  Sister, we all need help.  We all need it.

[She coughs.]

NICK:  No smokes.  No smokes.  Oh, Jeez.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  You know, I could go for some of that cheese.

NICK:  Cheese?!  Jeez.  Just take it!

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  Are you sure you don’t want some of it for yourself?

NICK:  Yeah, yeah.  I’m sorry I bothered you.  Good luck with your consumption.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  You know, this is smoked Gouda.

NICK:  Smoked?

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  Smoked over a nice hickory fire by little Dutch women
with lung cancer.

NICK:  Tell me more.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  It’s quite Gouda.

NICK:  Oh, very Gouda.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  Gouda for you.

NICK:  I want you.  I want you.  I want you.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  But I don’t smoke.  [She coughs.]

NICK:  It wasn’t that hard to quit smoking, and I did that, so it can’t be much harder
to quit going after smokers.  Besides, I like the way you cough.

[He moves in to kiss her.  Blackout.]

NICK:  Say, how contagious is tuberculosis?

She coughs.  Music.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 10  “The Orange Order”

Lights.  Some strolling music.  JIMMY and DRUM enter.  Their clothes are somewhat disheveled.  As they enter some more clothes are tossed at them from someplace onstage.
JIMMY is carrying some oranges.

JIMMY [to the clothes-people]:  Thanks.

DRUM:  Oh, Jimmy, you were so good.

JIMMY:  I know.

DRUM:  The part with the orange marmalade was my favorite.

JIMMY:  I thought you’d like that.

DRUM:  We should do that again…soon.

JIMMY:  I’ll bring my toaster.  It holds four slices.

DRUM:  Four slices.  Wow.  Give me an orange to remember you by.

JIMMY:  Here, it’s a navel.

DRUM:  Of course it is.  I have to go now, but I don’t want to.

JIMMY:  Then stay.

DRUM:  I have to go get ready for the parade.

JIMMY:  Is it Sunday again already?

DRUM:  Time flies when you lose your innocence.

JIMMY:  You want another orange?

DRUM:  One is enough.

JIMMY:  Two is even better, though.

DRUM:  When will we meet again?

JIMMY:  When the hurlyburly’s done.

DRUM:  When the parade’s marched and gone.
Kiss me, Jimmy, as if it was the last time.

[JIMMY kisses her as if it was the last time.]

JIMMY:  You smell like an orange.

DRUM:  Do you like it?

JIMMY:  I can’t complain.

DRUM:  You’re the best, Jimmy.

JIMMY:  I know.  Tell me something new.

DRUM:  The Marlins and the Indians are in the series.

JIMMY:  That is new.

DRUM:  I have to go now, Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Then go.

DRUM:  I’m going.

[She goes.  DUCK WOMAN enters. JIMMY takes notice.  He goes up to her and offers her an orange.  They exit together.  A piece of clothing comes flying back on stage, followed by several more.  JIMMY returns with a big smile.]

JIMMY:  Ah, duck a l’orange.

[FANNY enters, with H in tow.]

FANNY:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Fanny.

H:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Fanny.

FANNY:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Jimmy.

H:  Jimmy.

FANNY:  Don’t give me the run around, Jimmy.
H:  Don’t give her the runaround, Jimmy.

FANNY:  You’re a two-timer, Jimmy.

H:  Yeah, a two-timer.

JIMMY:  Three or four when I’m rested.

[FANNY slaps him.]

JIMMY:  You want an orange?

FANNY:  I don’t like oranges, Jimmy.

JIMMY:  You suck.

FANNY:  I know.  Do you want me as bad as I want you?

JIMMY:  I want you as bad as you want me to want you.

FANNY: Take me.

JIMMY:  Where?

FANNY:  To funkytown, Jimmy…on your silver chariot.

JIMMY:  Whatever you say.  I’m not much for metaphors.  You want an orange?

FANNY:  I hate oranges.

JIMMY:  You suck.

FANNY:  I know.  Doesn’t it drive you mad?

JIMMY:  Yes.

FANNY:  Squeeze my oranges, Jimmy…while they’re ripe.

[JIMMY and FANNY embrace and exit.   Ridiculous noises off. Various articles of clothing get thrown onstage, perhaps some underwear and a few oranges and then some orange peel.  H cleans them up.  They return.  Disheveled.]

FANNY:  Thank you for that, Jimmy.

JIMMY:  No problem.  Want an orange?

FANNY:  No.  I despise oranges.

JIMMY:  You suck.

FANNY:  I know.

JIMMY:  And it drives me mad.

FANNY:  Let’s go!

[They exit and go at it again.  Noises off.  A resounding chorus of “Hip, Hip, Hooray” from all offstage.  Clothes get thrown on.  Perhaps a toaster gets thrown on too.
They re-enter.  More disheveled.]

FANNY:  Thank you.

JIMMY:  Orange?

FANNY:  No.

JIMMY:  Suck.

FANNY:  Yes.

JIMMY:  Mad.

FANNY:  Let’s go.

[They exit again.  Applause.  They enter.  He looks at her.  She looks at him.  They go right back out.  Sounds of a chainsaw and other logging equipment.  They enter.]

FANNY:  Incredible.

JIMMY:  Orange?

FANNY:  Maybe later.

JIMMY:  You—

FANNY:  Don’t speak!  I’ll see you at the parade.  If you can still walk.

[FANNY and H exit.  KAREN enters scratching.]

JIMMY:  Hi.

KAREN:  Hi.
JIMMY:  Hi.

KAREN:  Hi.

JIMMY:  This just doesn’t work without proper names.

KAREN:  Karen.

JIMMY:  Jimmy.

[A moment passes.]

JIMMY:  The moment has passed.  Want an orange?

KAREN:  I’d love one, but I have—

JIMMY:  An itch to scratch?

KAREN:  Exactly.

JIMMY:  Mind if I have a look?

KAREN:  Well, actually—

[He grabs her arm and looks at it.  Then he looks at her neck.]

JIMMY:  Mm-hmm.

KAREN:  What?

JIMMY:  It’s a dermatic graphism.

KAREN:  Not a dermatic graphism?

JIMMY:  Yes, a dermatic graphism.

KAREN:  Am I going to die?

JIMMY:  Eventually.

KAREN:  Oh my God.

JIMMY:  We all are.

KAREN:  Whew, that’s a relief.

JIMMY:  Your skin is having a reaction to something.

KAREN:  I know that.

JIMMY:  Have you been in contact with any chemicals?

KAREN:  X-40-UR 238.

JIMMY:  There’s only one thing which can cure that.

[He peels an orange and rubs the peeled rind on her arms and neck.]

JIMMY:  How does that feel?

KAREN:  That feels…good.

JIMMY:  Good, we have to get you out of your clothes.

[He continues to rub the orange peel in her neck while gazing deep into her eyes.
He kisses her.  She does not protest.  He carries her off just as DRUM enters.]

DRUM:  Jimmy?  Jimmy?

[No answer.  A clothy lump is thrown onstage.  DRUM picks it up.  It is an orange wrapped in a bra or some panties or some other sort of suggestive clothing.  Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 11  “Scratch and Sniff”

Lights.  Karen is sitting in some sort of comfortable lawn chair.  Maybe in a bathrobe.
She is not scratching herself.  IZZY enters.  He is scratching himself.

IZZY:  Thank God, I found you.

KAREN:  Take a load off.  We’ve got some talking to do.

IZZY:  You’re not scratching yourself.

KAREN:  No, I’m not, but look at you.  You’re a mess.
Here sit down I’ll scratch your back for you.

IZZY:  What happened?

KAREN:  It’s a long story.  You look terrible.

IZZY:  Thanks.  [He sniffs.]  You smell like oranges.

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 12  “Ch*ckens and D*cks”

Disco lighting.  Late ‘70s music, perhaps something from the Abba oeuvre.
(“Gimme, Gimme, Gimme”?)
DUCK WOMAN dances alone.  She has flippers and some sort of duckbilled mask.
She dances like some freaked out disco duck, but not without grace.
This continues for an agonizingly long time.
Perhaps she is joined by some other duck dancers.
The music abruptly changes to “Staying Alive” as CHICKEN MAN comes charging in with a feather boa and some gold chains.
They dance for a gratuitously long period of time.  (A perfect opportunity for a cool light show.)
At first DUCK WOMAN refuses CHICKEN MAN, tries to ignore him and play the cool cat, but CHICKEN MAN is hip and he wins out.
Maybe he has a rubber chicken that he wields.
DUCK WOMAN is swept away by CHICKEN MAN’s dance fever.
The lights fade out.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 13  “Evil Scientists Love a Parade”

Lights.  H is playing some sort of bongo-like drum.
FANNY dances around New Age-style doing some sort of Earth Mother dance.

H:   Evil scientists
Love a parade
       Evil scientists
       Love a parade
 Evil scientists
 Love a parade

FANNY:  You may wonder why an accomplished evil scientist like myself would set up
 shop in a small-fry town such as this.

H: Evil scientists

FANNY:  Why would I leave the centers of civilization,

H: Love a parade

FANNY:  To come to a remote, unambitious town where the only excitement

H:   Evil scientists

FANNY:  Is the Sunday parade.

H:   Love a parade

FANNY:  Well, the truth is

H:   Evil scientists.

TOGETHER:  Love a parade.

[Blackout.]

Scene 14   “The Part With The Moose”

UNCLE JOHN enters with a baseball bat and a Red Sox cap.

UNCLE JOHN:  This is the part with the moose.
Now, we wanted to get Bullwinkle, the Moose, for this part but we were unable
to get him because of licensing and copyright problems.  Seems we can’t use a character created by someone else even if we write all the words that he or she is saying and script all of his or her actions.  The big folks (and some smaller folks) don’t like it when you in-fringe on their “intellectual property.”  Of course, these are the same folks who want to charge you an arm and a leg for watching a Shakespeare play, or “adapt” The Odyssey for television.  I bet they didn’t work too hard trying to track down the place to send Homer’s royalties or Will Shakespeare’s residuals.  God forbid we should be able to get Bullwinkle the Moose out here to sing a stupid song and say a few things to y’all about the Zapatista movement in Chiapas.  And what the hell has this nation come to when you can’t sing “O Susannah!” without some tightwad dandelion coming from the big city and holding his or her palm out!  Well, I say they can take their “intellectual property” and stuff it into their tight little Camaro driving cakeholes…

KJ enters.

KJ:  Uncle John, Uncle John.  I hate to interrupt you, but.

UNCLE JOHN:  Well, you already did, so what do you want?

KJ:  I was wondering if you answer a couple of questions for me.

UNCLE JOHN:  Alright, go ahead.

KJ:  Is a pumpkin a leg-ume?

UNCLE JOHN:  I have no idea, boy.  Try another one.

KJ:  How do I get Drum back?

UNCLE JOHN:  You want to get Drum back?

KJ:  Yes sir.

UNCLE JOHN:  You’re sure about this?

KJ:  Yessir.  She’s mine and I want her back.
 

UNCLE JOHN:  You just come with me, boy.
I’m gonna teach you a thing or two about baseball.

KJ:  Baseball?

UNCLE JOHN:  That’s right, son.

KJ:  You think baseball will help me get Drum back?

UNCLE JOHN:  You might say that.  You might say that.  Just walk right out there…

UNCLE JOHN takes a practice swing, then exits.  After a brief moment we hear the crack of baseball bat on human flesh and bones as well as a muffled cry of pain or two.
Lights fade out.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 15   “Remy Martin Fine Champagne Cognac – VSOP”

Lights up.  There is a counter with a bar, a few bottles of cognac and a snifter or two.
JIMMY is relaxing with a snifter of cognac and a slice (or twist) of orange.
UNCLE JOHN enters with more cognac.  There are bloodstains on his clothes.
He has worked up a thirst.

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  John.

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  John.

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  Jimmy.

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  John.

UNCLE JOHN:  John.

JIMMY:  John.

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy—Damn, you’re good.

JIMMY:  Thanks.  Want an orange?

UNCLE JOHN:  No thanks.

JIMMY:  Bastard.

UNCLE JOHN:  Where were we going with this?

JIMMY:  I don’t know.

UNCLE JOHN:  What kind of cognac do you drink?

JIMMY:  Hennessy VSOP, it’s like being kissed by a French woman.

UNCLE JOHN:  That’s no good.  You should try something new.

[FANNY enters with H.]
UNCLE JOHN:  Fanny, what kind of cognac do you drink?

FANNY:  Courvoisier, the cognac of Napoleon.

UNCLE JOHN:  How about you, H?

H:  I drink what she drinks.

UNCLE JOHN:  Of course.  Well, maybe it’s time you took a swig of Remy Martin
 Fine Champagne Cognac.

FANNY:  Remy Martin?

JIMMY:  I thought that was just for pansyasses.

UNCLE JOHN:  Not anymore.  You see, Remy Martin Cognac is a tribute to Paul Emile
 Remy Martin, who started making cognac three hundred years ago.

JIMMY:  He’s about due for a break, I’d say.

UNCLE JOHN:  He’s dead.

FANNY:  I’m not surprised.

JIMMY:  Overwork—it’ll kill you.

[DRUM enters.  She is drinking cognac straight from the bottle.]

DRUM:  Uncle John.

UNCLE JOHN:  Drum.  Are you drinking?

DRUM:  Yes.

UNCLE JOHN:  Is that Remy Martin Fine Champagne Cognac?

DRUM:  Yes it is.

UNCLE JOHN:  Good.  I’m glad someone appreciates the fleeting fragrant blooms of
 the Grande Champagne region of Cognac.

DRUM:  Uncle John, what does VSOP mean?

UNCLE JOHN:  Very Superior Old Pale.
It’s the governmental appellation for Fine Champagne Cognac.

JIMMY:  Whoo-wee.  Let’s hear it for the Appalachians!

DRUM:  Uncle John, tell me what love is again.

UNCLE JOHN:  It’s a long, long road, Drum.

DRUM:  I know.  What do you do when you love someone and they’re not sure
if they love you?

UNCLE JOHN:  What do you mean “not sure”?

DRUM:  What if they still like other people?

UNCLE JOHN:  Well, Drum you know what Cicero says about faithfulness…

DRUM:  What does Cicero say?

UNCLE JOHN:  Cicero says…Cicero says…follow your heart.

DRUM:  That’s what I thought he’d say, Uncle John.  Thanks.
[To JIMMY]  I’ll see you in the chase scene.

JIMMY:  Don’t forget the pirate scene.

DRUM:  Right.  See you there.

[DRUM exits.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Now, where were we?  [General mutter.]

JIMMY:  We were about to leave to get ready for the Pirate scene.

UNCLE JOHN:  But what about Remy Martin Cognac?

FANNY:  Selling out to crass commercial interests, now that’s evil.

JIMMY:  Yeah, John.  If you’re going to do that, why don’t you just do a musical?

FANNY:  Or give a piece of pie to everyone in the audience.

H:  Yeah.

UNCLE JOHN:  You know, that’s not a bad idea at all.  Not a bad idea at all.

[Blackout.]

Scene 16   “Duck Me, I’m Yours!”

Tango.  CHICKEN MAN and DUCK WOMAN enter dancing.  All is harmony.
The music stops.

DUCKWOMAN:  Duck.

[The music resumes.  They dance.  It is a tango full of passion, but there is trouble in paradise.  The music stops.]

CHICKEN MAN:  Chickens.

[The music resumes.  They dance with even more passion, mixed with a bit of concern. The music stops.]

DUCK WOMAN:  Duck.

CHICKEN MAN:  Chickens.

[They dance furiously.  The music stops.]

CHICKEN MAN:  Chickens.

DUCK WOMAN:  Duck.

[The music resumes.  They dance more furiously.  The music stops.]

DUCK WOMAN [simultaneous]:  Duck.

CHICKEN MAN [simultaneous]:  Chickens.

[The music resumes.  They dance even more furiously.  The music stops.]

DUCK WOMAN [simultaneous]:  Duck!

CHICKEN MAN [simultaneous]:  Chickens!

[They separate.  The music resumes.  They dance around each other, sizing each other up.]

CHICKEN MAN [imploring]:  Chickens?

DUCK WOMAN [blowing him a kiss]:  Duck.

The lights go out.
 
Pirate Scene

Lights reveal the stage transformed into a pirate ship.  The Stage Manager (the real one) calls out to everyone.  One by one the whole cast ambles on to the deck of the ship in some sort of pirate outfit.  FANNY and H are tied up.  KJ is wearing all sorts of bloody bandages.  UNCLE JOHN is the Captain.  NICK is dressed like an albatross.
JIMMY has a sombrero, or maybe a bandana.

STAGE MANAGER:  Alright everyone!  Time for the Pirate Scene!

UNCLE JOHN:  I’m Captain Bligh, and this my ship.

DRUM:  The SS Brawny.

PIRATE JENNY:  It’s quite tawny.

IZZY:  It’s the quicker picker upper.

EVERYONE:  Shut up, Smiley!

DRUM:  I’m Buttercup.

UNCLE JOHN:  But she’s not little.

DRUM:  I love the sea.

GOOD BOY:  What do you think about sea—faring gentlemen?

DRUM:  I like them too.

PIRATE JENNY:  They call me Cookie.  I’m the cook.

UNCLE JOHN:  Even pirates can be logical.

FLAGSTAFF:  My name is Taffy.

PIRATE JENNY:  A saltwater marvel.

FLAGSTAFF:  I fire the cannon.

UNCLE JOHN:  That one’s hard of hearing.

FLAGSTAFF:  What?

UNCLE JOHN:  You’re deaf.

FLAGSTAFF:  What?

EVERYONE:  DEAF!

FLAGSTAFF:  Aye, DEATH!  Argh!

GOOD BOY:  I’m Baxley, the Cabin Boy.

UNCLE JOHN:  Baxley, bring me some rum.

GOOD BOY:  I’m just an apprentice.  But I’ve got high hopes.

PIRATE JENNY:  If you sing, I’ll kill you and cook you.

FANNY:  That would be better than the last supper we had.

H:  Yeah.

PIRATE JENNY:  Don’t worry, you won’t be eating any of my food again.

FANNY:  Really, why is that?

UNCLE JOHN:  Because you’re walking the plank today.

FANNY:  Why?

H:  Yeah, why?

DRUM:  Because you’re evil.

FANNY:  You’re pirates!

UNCLE JOHN:  Two wrongs don’t make a right.

FLAGSTAFF:  What?

UNCLE JOHN:  Two wrongs don’t make a right.

FLAGSTAFF:  What?

UNCLE JOHN:  Two wrongs don’t make a right!

FLAGSTAFF:  Right.  Fire!

[There is an explosion.]

NICK:  Bwak!  Two wrongs, two wrongs.

[KJ attempts to say something.]

KJ:  kjwiopnjbeqpimmmmmmm!

UNCLE JOHN:  What is it, Marbles?

KJ:  IFEkfdlkjhwjl,,,mmmmm!!   MMM!

DRUM:  There’s an enemy ship approaching.

UNCLE JOHN:  It’s a Spanish galleon.

JIMMY:  Si.

UNCLE JOHN:  Good thing we have the notorious Spanish pirate, El Sinistro, aboard.

JIMMY:  Si.

PIRATE JENNY:  They’re coming in on the starboard side!

UNCLE JOHN:  Fire!

FLAGSTAFF:  What?

UNCLE JOHN:  Fire!

FLAGSTAFF:  What?

UNCLE JOHN:  Oh, forget it, they’re getting away.

GOOD BOY:  Why don’t we just sing a song?

PIRATE JENNY:  Sing a song?

IZZY:  That’s not all that pirates do.

NICK:  Bwak! Sing a song, sing a song!

IZZY:  Aren’t there other things that pirates do?

JIMMY:  Si.

NICK:  Bwak!  Sing it proud, sing it strong!

EVERYONE:  Shut up, Berty.

KAREN:  We could rape and pillage!

[Everyone looks at her with disdain.]

KAREN:  I’m Salley, the Galley Girl.  I’m the prime reason why feminist ideology
just hasn’t taken root in pirate culture.

NICK:  Bwak!  Rape and Pillage!  Rape and Pillage!

PIRATE JENNY:  Rape and pillage--that’s so cliché.

UNCLE JOHN:  Haven’t we gotten past that yet?

IZZY:  I think maybe we should rape and pillage.

PIRATE JENNY:  You’re such a traditionalist.

IZZY:  But we’re pirates!

PIRATE JENNY:  That doesn’t mean we’re locked into any single course of action.

FANNY:  Oh, for heaven’s sake just let me walk the plank!

[FANNY breaks free and “walks the plank”.  Sound of her being eaten by a shark.]

IZZY:  The prisoner’s gone overboard!

UNCLE JOHN:  She’s being eaten by the sharks!

[A body part comes flying onto the deck.]

UNCLE JOHN:  That’s a shame.  I was looking forward to executing her.

DRUM:  Why don’t we sing our song now?

PIRATE JENNY:  As long as it’s not one of those yo-ho-ho numbers.

KAREN:  Why don’t we sing Doo Wah Diddy?

PIRATE JENNY:  Why don’t we go trawling for crabs while we’re at it.

UNCLE JOHN:   There are enough crabs on this ship to go around.

IZZY:  Tell me about it.  [He scratches himself.]
H:  It may not have been such a brilliant idea to have a galley girl on board.

JIMMY:  Si.

IZZY:  Well, no one told me about her.

KAREN:  What could I do?

NICK:  Bwak, no one told me about her.

H:  Though they all knew.

IZZY:  But it’s too late to say you’re sorry.

GOOD BOY:  How would I know?

PIRATE JENNY:  Why should I care?

DRUM:  Please don’t bother trying to find her.

UNCLE JOHN:  She’s not there.

NICK:  She’s not there, she’s not there!

EVERYONE:  Shut up, Berty.

PIRATE JENNY:  You’re an albatross, not a parrot.

IZZY:  Well, let me tell you about the way she looked.

DRUM:  The way she acted, maybe?

NICK:  Bwak, color of her hair, color of her hair!

IZZY:  Her eyes were soft and cool, her eyes were clear and bright…

NICK:  She’s not there!  She’s not there!

KAREN:  Oh, Smiley, I’ll be there for you.

NICK:  Bwak, penicillin, penicillin.

UNCLE JOHN:  This is why piracy just isn’t as good as it used to be.

JIMMY:  Too much fear.  Too little adventure.

UNCLE JOHN:  Nothing’s like it used to be.

FLAGSTAFF:  I wear adult diapers sometimes just for fun.

PIRATE JENNY:  On the other hand, the sheer wackiness of pirates has not ceased.

NICK:  Bwak, give candy, give me candy.

GOOD BOY:  We’re not quitting are we?

UNCLE JOHN:  There’s no room for pirates on the modern stage.

GOOD BOY:  But I wanted to move up from apprentice to seaman.

PIRATE JENNY:  You’ll just have to find another ship.

UNCLE JOHN: We never even introduced Berty!

PIRATE JENNY:  This is Berty, the Albatross.

GOOD BOY:  He replaced the Captain’s Parrot, who was lost at sea.

PIRATE JENNY:  Has anyone seen Bligh’s Parrot?

IZZY:  Private Lives?

NICK:  Bwak, private lives, private lives!

H:  Not me.

IZZY:  Not me.

PIRATE JENNY:  Coward!

IZZY:  I am no coward!

FLAGSTAFF:  No coward?

NICK:  Bwak, no coward, no coward!

UNCLE JOHN:  There are no cowards on this ship.

FLAGSTAFF:  No coward’s on this ship?

JIMMY:  El cowardo!

UNCLE JOHN:  No el cowardo.  No el cowardos on this ship.

NICK:  Bwak, No el cowardo, No el cowardo.

EVERYONE:  Shut up, Berty!

PIRATE JENNY:  We’re running aground!

EVERYONE:  What?

PIRATE JENNY:  It’s called a deus ex machina.

EVERYONE:  Ohhhh!

[Blackout.]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 17   “Great Expectations”

Music – something along the lines of Tijuana Taxi.  DUCK WOMAN and CHICKEN MAN enter dancing, eyeing each other suspiciously the whole time.  The music stops.
They each look as though they might say something, but neither does.
The music resumes.  They dance.  The music stops.  Silence.
The music resumes.  They dance warily.  The music stops.  Silence.
The music resumes.  They dance.  The music stops.  Silence.
This may continue for an agonizingly humorous amount of time, until DUCK WOMAN gets an idea.  CHICKEN MAN gets an idea too.  They dance smugly.  The music stops.

DUCK WOMAN:  Dick.

CHICKEN MAN:  Chuck.

No good.  They shake their heads.  DUCK WOMAN gets another idea.

DUCK WOMAN:  Dickens.

CHICKEN MAN:  Dickens?

DUCK WOMAN:  Dickens.

TOGETHER:  Dickens.

The music resumes.  They dance happily ever after.  Lights out.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Scene 18   “Sunday Afternoon Smells Like Red Wine”

Lights.  Another Sousa march is playing.  UNCLE JOHN surveys the scene.
He is content.

UNCLE JOHN:  The parade’s starting a little late this week.

[JIMMY enters.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Jimmy.

JIMMY:  John…orange?

UNCLE JOHN:  No.

JIMMY:  Bastard.

UNCLE JOHN:  Whatever.

[DRUM enters and slaps JIMMY and runs off. The music changes to “Red Rubber Ball” by The Cyrkle.  The chase scene ensues.  FANNY and H enter and chase JIMMY.  IZZY and KAREN chase FANNY and H.  NICK and the TUBERCULAR GIRL get mixed in the fray and are accidentally chased by KJ, who is still bandaged, bloody and senseless.
FLAGSTAFF joins UNCLE JOHN and occasionally directs traffic with his horn.
This continues for some time until everyone has chased everyone else and some sort of final position has been found.  Then the Sousa march resumes and they make for an orderly march around the stage.]

KAREN:  I know you’re upset.

IZZY:  Hey, at least you’re not scratching yourself.

KAREN:  I know a really good treatment for your problem,
but you have to take off all your clothes.

IZZY:  No problem.

[IZZY and KAREN exit.]

NICK:  I’m so glad you came up with the idea for chewing tobacco.

TUBERCULAR GIRL:  You only live once.

[They cough and exit.]

GOOD BOY:  I can’t wait to see that old Jamaican moon.
PIRATE JENNY:  Argh!  You’ll love it, matey!

GOOD BOY:  This is my first trip on the high seas.

PIRATE JENNY:  I’ll steer you clear of the shoals.

UNCLE JOHN:  Be sure to send me a postcard!

[PIRATE JENNY and GOOD BOY exit.]

FLAGSTAFF:  What about wrapping things up?

UNCLE JOHN:  Nothing ever really gets wrapped up.

FANNY:  I love these parades.

H:  Because they’re evil?

FANNY:  No, just because…

DRUM:  Uncle John, I know what you meant about love.

UNCLE JOHN:  Really?

DRUM:  Yeah, quasars and pulsars.  Come on, Jimmy, give me an orange.
I don’t know where you’re going in the morning, but you’re mine tonight.

[DRUM and JIMMY exit.]

FLAGSTAFF:  You think we might be sending the wrong moral message?

[KJ enters stumbling and proceeds to fall flat on his face.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Yeah, well, probably…[He takes a long drink from a bottle of something.]

FANNY:  Let’s go to the Dairy Queen and get some soft serve ice cream.

[FANNY and H exit.]

UNCLE JOHN:  Sunday afternoons always make me feel patriotic.
 

[The lights fade to black as the music also fades away.]
 

Epilogue “The Easy Winners”

Music – a Scott Joplin rag.
PARTNER LADY enters, not dancing.  She carries an orange.
She is not a happy camper.
She sits on the edge of the stage moping and contemplating the orange.
PARTNER MAN comes strolling in, dapper with a carnation in his lapel,
and a big black eye.
He gestures to her as if to ask her what the problem is.
She indicates the orange.
He gives her his carnation.
She smiles.
He offers her his arm.  She takes it and they walk off together.
As the lights fade out someone pitches the orange back on stage.
Lights out.

The End.