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ACT TWO - Two Weeks Later.
MUFFY (a life-sized dummy) is in a wheelchair in a full body cast. She is quite plump. Her arms are outstretched horizontally and have scarves and beads, etc. hanging from them. There is an outrageous wig plopped on her head. Her face is totally wrapped in gauze with two little holes where her eyes ought to be and there is a slit where her mouth ought to be. She really needs to be believable. Next to her chair are the pieces of her broken walker and a large box of Depends.
TINK is in a wheelchair with an IV running into her arm from a bag that hangs from an IV pole.
All the “stuff” from the last yard sale is still there along with a different sign that reads: “FREE PUNCH WITH PURCHASE!”
DIVA is behind the table talking into her cell phone.
DIVA: Yes . . . well, I don’t see it that way. Besides, I have no idea what a “junk-a-rama” is – ‘though I have a pretty good notion you are fully versed in that regard. Oh, please, don’t tell me. Let me chew on it awhile. However, if anybody’s turning this neighborhood into a junk-a-rama, as you so quaintly put it, then I am sure it is you and not I. Your mere presence in this neighborhood is an abomination of monumental proportions. Were I you, I’d consider moving to Bora Bora or wherever it is they wear rings and bones and things in their noses! Oh? Body art, is it? Then perhaps you should have yourself shellacked and hung in the nearest museum. Well, I suppose if I were Betty White this is where I would tell you to get spayed or neutered! I should get what!? Thank you, darling. I’ll be looking forward to that with the anticipation of a schoolgirl. I would tell you to get the same, but I don’t really know you that well. Ciao, Mother! (Turns phone off and puts it under her garter. Waving and shouting across the street.) I see you too! And stop calling me on my cell phone – you’re becoming quite expensive!
LILLIAN: (Enters carrying more stuff.) Who are you yelling at?
DIVA: Mother. I knew it was a bad idea putting her in a nursing home just across the street. (Referring to stuff LILLIAN is carrying.) Is that the last of it?
LILLIAN: (Setting down her stuff.) It is as far as I’m concerned. My heart’s about to give out. (A pause to catch her breath.) How are the girls?
DIVA: Tink’s asleep and Muffy’s in a coma.
LILLIAN: I think it’s the other way around, Diva.
DIVA: Whatever. They’re both quiet. That’s all I know.
LILLIAN: Thank heaven for that. A couple weeks ago I was sure poor old Tink had gone to meet her maker.
DIVA: And who would that be . . . Martha Stewart?
LILLIAN: Diva, if one didn’t know you better, one could find your sarcasm almost diabolical. (DIVA “humphs.”) Anyway, I’m sure glad you were wrong.
DIVA: I? Wrong? About what?
LILIAN: You know, about Tink. You said she was dead. Sometimes it’s good to be wrong.
DIVA: Is it?
LILLIAN: Of course it is. We still have our dear old Tink, don’t we?
DIVA: (Without much enthusiasm.) Yeah . . . we still have our dear old Tink.
LILLIAN: Alive and well. Well . . . alive.
DIVA: So, she’s alive. Don’t rub it in, Lillian.
LILLIAN: I’m not rubbing anything in, Diva. Why are you in such a terrible mood?
DIVA: Because I nearly became a murderess and that takes a terrible toll on ones sense of self.
LILLIAN: I’m sure it does.
DIVA: I nearly went to prison for the rest of my tender and precious life and all you think about is dear old Tink.
LILLIAN: That isn’t true. I think about you constantly. You’re on my mind more than I am on my mind – whatever that means. You’re my best friend.
DIVA: I guess the fact that you almost lost your best friend to some unspeakable fate doesn’t phase you, does it? You don’t care that I was a breath away from becoming some hairy-lipped amazon’s girl toy, do you? Some friend you are!
LILLIAN: For Pete’s sake, Diva. If Tink had died we both might have gone to prison. It was my punch you force-fed her. You have the strangest way of looking at things sometimes. All I’m saying is thank God you were wrong in your prognosis because everything turned out for the better in spite of it.
DIVA: And, look what we did to poor Muffy.
LILLIAN: We didn’t do anything to Muffy. She did it to herself. After all, she was jaywalking, wasn’t she? We did warn her. She ought to be grateful that she’s still alive.
DIVA: It’s hard to tell about some people nowadays.
LILLIAN: It’s hard to tell what?
DIVA: Whether they are dead or alive. Exterior signs of life are no longer any kind of guarantee. They can walk and they can talk, but who knows if there’s anybody home.
LILLIAN: You’re becoming too deep for conscious appreciation, Diva.
DIVA: The late Dr. Hollingsworth was dead three days before anyone took notice.
LILLIAN: Not even you?
DIVA: No, not even I. He was notorious for spending days on end in that cucumber patch out back. I thought he was involved in yet another of his many eccentricities . . . communing with the cucumbers. Some people have an eye for color and some for texture. Dear old Horace had a thing for cylindrical objects of an agricultural nature. Quite demented, if you ask me. (Her leg shakes. She reaches under her dress to retrieve the cell phone.) My God! It’s turning into Grand Central Station down here. (Answers phone.) Diva Hollingsworth here. Who might you be? (To LILLIAN.) Carlotta Bean. (LILLIAN goes about sorting through stuff.) You’re sounding particularly well today. Yes, it’s another beautiful day in the neighborhood. The girls and I are having another yard sale. . . . Didn’t I tell you? I need to raise a bit of cash to purchase one of those jewel encrusted, gold Faberge eggs; much like the one you brought back from Russia a couple years ago. Horace needs a permanent resting-place. . . . Well, they have little snaps on them, darling. Doesn’t yours open up? Yes, I thought it did. What do you keep in it? M&M’s? Oh, dear, how casual can one get? Seen who? Your Greek? I thought it was over between you two. Oh? Making up is always the best part, isn’t it? Gone missing, again, has he? If I see him I’ll send him right home. What does he look like? Where? Hold on. (To LILLIAN.) Go over to that telephone pole and see if there’s a missing poster.
LILLIAN: How would I know if it were missing?
DIVA: If what were missing?
LILLIAN: The poster.
DIVA: Lillian! See if there is a poster for a missing Greek!
LILLIAN: Oh. (Reading from poster on the telephone pole.) “Missing. One Greek male tourist guide. Large reward for his return. Answers to Laexandros Demosthenes Papadopoulos.” (To DIVA.) Now, that’s a mouthful.
DIVA: Quite a mouthful. (Into phone.) No, Carlotta, I was talking to Lillian. No, that is not what I meant by a mouthful. Well, bully for you. Let me just stroll over and take a gander for myself. (At poster, gasps and nearly faints.) There is a God! Listen, Carlotta, I’m suddenly feeling faint. Must be the sun. If I see him I’ll send him right home. (Aside to LILLIAN.) Over my dead body. (Into phone.) Talk at you later. Ciao, darling. (Replaces phone. Rips down poster and she fans herself with it.) Quick, Lillian! I need a drink. (LILLIAN goes to pour DIVA a drink.) How does she do it?
LILLIAN: I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out for years. Maybe its all that bridgework and all those porcelain crowns Horace did for her. (Hands Diva glass of punch.)
DIVA: (Drinks. Suspiciously.) You don’t suppose that the two of them, Carlotta and Horace. . . . Naah. I would have known. A woman knows those things, you know. Besides, I was too much of a woman for him. After all, I am Diva, aren’t I? (Finishes the punch. Pours herself another glass.) I hope this is the same recipe you made last time.
LILLIAN: Better.
DIVA: Better? What could possibly make it better?
LILLIAN: A fifth of absinthe de wormwood smuggled from Morocco in Pansy Parker’s private parts.
DIVA: I beg your pardon. . . .
LILLIAN: She’s a big girl.
DIVA: She would need to be. (Sips punch.) Oh, it has a slight licorice taste.
LILLIAN: That’s the absinthe.
DIVA: Good! I’d hate to think. . . .
LILLIAN: (Spies a potential patron.) Free punch!
DIVA: With purchase!
LILLIAN: Free punch!
DIVA: With purchase! (Taking another sip of punch.) All I can say is, Lillian, you’ve outdone yourself again.
LILLIAN: Thank you, Diva.
DIVA: What exactly is it?
LILLIAN: It?
DIVA: Absinthe.
LILLIAN: Well, it’s illegal in America – something to do about hallucinations. Sort of like LSD – not that I ever had LSD, at least, I don't think so, but, that would explain the alien abduction.
DIVA: Martians?
LILLIAN: Mexicans. Anyway, Dr. Timothy Leary was a great friend of my cousin Gert.
DIVA: I don’t remember your ever talking about a cousin Gert.
LILLIAN: That’s because she was the black sheep in the family.
DIVA: And all this time I thought you were.
LILLIAN: Oh, no. Gert took the prize for that. She and her husband Charlie founded a retreat near Lake Titicaca in Peru for clairvoyants, spiritualists, astral projectionist and the like.
DIVA: Really?
LILLIAN: It was Dr. Leary’s idea. They called it Porta Nostradamus. It was written up in all the important esoteric journals and, for a short time, enjoyed a fashionable reputation as the favored watering hole for some very influential people. Where do you think Shirley MacLaine got all her ideas?
DIVA: At Gert and Charlie’s?
LILLIAN: That’s right, in Porta Nostradamus. Anyway, it all ended rather badly.
DIVA: How’s that?
LILLIAN: Well, one day while Gert was practicing her astral projection, a herd of llama trampled her body to death. So, when she came back from visiting who-knows-who in who-knows-where, she found Charlie crying over a container of ashes. When she realized the ashes were hers . . . well, you can imagine how traumatic that must have been for her.
DIVA: Lillian, I don’t believe a word of this.
LILLIAN: It’s true. They say her astral form still haunts the grounds where Porta Nostradamus used to stand.
DIVA: Used to stand?
LILLIAN: Yes. Before Charlie threw himself into Lake Titicaca and drowned, he burned the entire establishment to the ground – llama, natives, and all.
DIVA: Oh, dear!
LILLIAN: Anyway, one little fifth isn’t about to hurt anybody.
DIVA: (Looking across the street. Distracted.) What’s that, dear?
LILLIAN: The absinthe. One little fifth isn’t about to hurt anybody.
DIVA: No, I suppose not. (Raises her cup.) Here’s to Gert.
LILLIAN: (Raising her cup.) To Gert – wherever you are. (Cautiously looking around for Gert’s specter.)
DIVA: (Calling out to unseen passersby.) Free punch . . . with purchase!
BOTH: Free punch . . . with purchase! Free punch . . . with purchase!
LILLIAN: Diva, do you think we really ought to be hanging things all over Muffy like that?
DIVA: Why not?
LILLIAN: It doesn’t seem right somehow.
DIVA: (Yelling into MUFFY’s ear.) Muffy! Muffy, darling! Can you hear me?
LILLIAN: They can hear you in Pittsburgh, Diva.
DIVA: (Ignoring the last. Still yelling into MUFFY’s ear.) You don’t mind if we hang a few things from you, do you, Muffy? (Putting her ear to MUFFY’s mouth.) No, no! Not P.U. . . . Do you? Do you mind? (Listening.) No, no, no! Not “do you in the hind!” Do you mind? Do you mind if we hang stuff from you? What? What’s that? No. Nobody’s going to stuff you from behind. Besides, you’re all plastered up. Plastered. Plastered, Muffy, plastered. (Turns to LILLIAN.) Lillian, we seem to have a bad connection.
LILLIAN: (Taking charge.) You’re plastered, sweetheart! He’d have to chip away an inch thick of plaster of Paris before he could get his pee-pee even close to you. What? (To DIVA.) She said, “start chipping.”
DIVA: Oh, for God’s sake! Muffy, go back to sleep! Now! (To LILLIAN.) Lillian, don’t egg her on. Go and see if Tink’s still in a coma? Her doctor said she could come out of it at any time. (To MUFFY.) Sleep, Muffy, Sleep. Honestly. The things I do for my friends. Florence Nightingale, eat your heart out.
LILLIAN: (To TINK.) Wakey, wakey, Tinky-winky.
DIVA: (Spies a potential customer.) Oh, hello there! See anything you like? Well, maybe something you could learn to like? That is, if you took the trouble to look a little closer. (Crosses to LILLIAN.) Blind as a bat, she is. (To customer.) What’s that, darling? No, that’s not a mummy. That’s a Muffy. You really ought to have your eyes examined. Careful, careful! My, you are blind, aren’t you? (Holding up something.) Can you see this? No? (Holding up something else.) What about this? No? (Gives her the “middle finger.”) This? Poor thing. Maybe you should get one of those seeing-eye dogs. (Picks up dildo.) What about this? Yes! (To LILLIAN.) Wouldn’t you know it? She’s cockeyed! (To customer – referring to dildo.) What’s that, dear? No, no. Its hardly been used. Practically virginic. Virginic. It’s a word of my own divination. What do you mean “fishy?” There’s nothing fishy about it. Suit yourself. Well, toodle-loodle to you too.
LILLIAN: (To unseen retreating customer.) Have a nice day. (To Diva.) Poor dear, not only blind but a bit long in the tooth.
DIVA: A bit? Lillian, she’s so long in the tooth she could eat corn on the cob through a glory hole.
BOTH: Free punch . . . with purchase! Free punch . . . with purchase!
TINK: Pa . . .pa . . . pa . . .
LILLIAN: Diva! Tink’s coming round. It’s a miracle.
DIVA: (Blasé.) Well, hallelujah. Will miracles never cease? (Sips punch.)
TINK: Pa . . . pa . . . pa . . .
LILLIAN: (To DIVA.) Poor Tink. She wants her Pa. (To TINK.) Your Pa’s dead, Tink. He died a long time ago . . . in the line of duty . . . with the FBI.
DIVA: Oh, for God’s sake, Lillian. He had a heart attack in one of J. Edgar Hoover’s dresses.
LILLIAN: Well, I would have too. He had terrible taste in clothes.
TINK: Pa . . . pa . . . pa . . . cha. Pa . . . cha. . . .
LILLIAN: Parcheesi? Tink, you’re in no condition to play Parcheesi.
TINK: (Smacking her lips.) Pa . . . pa . . . parched. Parched.
LILLIAN: Parched! Diva, she’s parched. Quick! Get her some punch.
DIVA: You’ve got to be kidding.
LILLIAN: Huh?
DIVA: Déjà vu? Hairy-lipped amazon? Hell-ohhh?
LILLIAN: What are you talking about?
DIVA: This is how we got into trouble last time.
LILLIAN: Then, go up to the house and get her some water.
DIVA: I don’t take orders, Lillian.
LILLIAN: Of course not. I don’t know what I could have been thinking.
DIVA: I am sure you don’t. Besides, you can’t really expect me to walk up that hill just to fetch a glass of water, do you? What do I look like, Jack and Jill?
LILLIAN: What do they look like?
DIVA: Servants, Lillian. They look like servants.
LILLIAN: Oh, well, sorry. I’ll go.
DIVA: And leave me alone with the cast from Night of the Living Dead. Suppose we had an emergency while you were gone?
LILLIAN: I never thought of that.
DIVA: Well, that’s your trouble, isn’t it? You never think. Thinking is a strain on the inseam with you, isn’t it?
TINK: Parched. Parched. Parched. (To audience.) I’m in hell again, aren’t I?
LILLIAN: You’re being unfair, Diva. I was thinking of poor old Tink.
DIVA: Pish-posh. You were thinking of yourself. The world is full of people who never think about anybody but themselves. I’m afraid, dearest Lillian, you are just one more in that long chain of thoughtless, selfish-thinking, ne’er-do-wells.
TINK: (To audience.) Why does hell look like K-Mart . . . with Lillian and Diva as checkout girls?
LILLIAN: As far as people who never think about anybody but themselves, dearest Diva, I think we have a case of the pot calling the kettle beige.
DIVA: Stop trying to be clever, Lillian. It doesn’t suit you.
TINK (To audience.) I was having this terrible nightmare. I was dreaming that I was. . . . (Looking around.) Oh shit! It’s not a dream. One of these days I’m not going to wake up. I hope it’s on their watch. Think of all that guilt . . . haunting them for the rest of their, trivial, insignificant, dreary little lives. . . . Is my mouth moving? Is any part of me moving? Anything? Any body part at all? Pa . . . pa . . . pa . . . .
DIVA (Hands LILLIAN cup of punch.) Here. I don’t suppose one little cup could hurt. I’m just a martyr to the cause.
LILLIAN: (Holding cup for TINK as she drinks.) There you go. Drinky drinky, Tinky-winky.
DIVA: Lillian, for God’s sake, would you stop talking like some kind of trailer trash breeder.
LILLIAN: Sorry. (To TINK.) Drink up, Tink. Diva’s on the rag, again. (To a potential customer.) Oh, hello. I didn’t see you coming. You nearly startled me to death. That? No, that’s not a jingle bell. It looks like a jingle bell though, doesn’t it? It’s made of bronze. Sent to me by a dear friend who went to England to write the great American novel. It predates the time of William Shakespeare. He wrote plays. Elizabethan. No, he was much earlier than Neil Simon. (Holding up the blackened jingle bell. It is at least an inch in diameter. She jingles it.) Listen to that. Isn’t it beautiful? Well, no, not the thing itself – but, the idea of it. To think that the sound of this little bell has remained the same for hundreds of years; a distinct and audible voice that has spoken with an enduring, everlasting voice since before the Renaissance. Excuse me? The Renaissance? Yes, I’ve been to the fair. But this was another kind of Renaissance – not a bunch of pathetic geeks in pitiful costumes. I’m talking about a time of reawakening, Madame, a time of joy . . . a blossoming of the human spirit. Two dollars? I’m so sorry. You couldn’t buy it for a thousand dollars. I’d sooner give it away to someone who understood the significance of it – someone who understood the beauty of a voice ringing unchanged down the centuries. Goodbye to you, too. And, have a nice day!
DIVA: (Spotting someone across the street.) Over here! We’re having a fabulous yard sale! Free punch . . . (Under her breath.) with purchase. (To LILLIAN.) Oh my! Isn’t he the cause celeb! I think that’s the young leather-clad man who rescued our dear old Muffy. (Looks at poster.) Oh, my god! One and the same!
LILLIAN: Where’s he going?
DIVA: Around the side of Dr. Hall’s house, I think. Could it be that he’s also one of Dr. Hall’s tricks? (Calling out.) Oh, hello! Hello! Dr. Hall’s away. He’s visiting Betty Ford. Can I service you? I mean, be of service? (Turning to LILLIAN.) I don’t think he heard me.
LILLIAN: (Looking through binoculars.) That’s because he’s listening to his Walkman. Oh, my! I think you’re right. That is Carlotta’s Greek.
DIVA: (Taking the binoculars from LILLIAN.) And Muffy’s leather-clad rescuer – one and the same. Would you look at that basket! Talk about a stimulus package
LILLIAN: What basket? He’s not carrying a basket.
DIVA: Lillian, you really have led a sheltered life, haven’t you? (Shakes her leg and reaches under her garter for cell phone. Answers phone.) Diva Hollingsworth here, and who might you be? What do you want now, mother? Yes, don’t you remember? Shortly after the Muffy fiasco when he lost all his rose bushes. He went on such a bender they hauled him off to the Betty Ford Clinic. And would you please stop eavesdropping on every little thing I say! Keep this up, mother, and I’m shipping you off to Idaho with the rest of the skinheads! (To LILLIAN.) She's got the whole yard wired for sound! Radio Shack should not be allowed to sell surveillance devices to little old ladies!
TINK: More. More. More. . . .
LILLIAN: Not now, Tink. He’s on his way over.
DIVA: I’ve got a man coming, Mother. Over. Coming over! You really need to clean up that act of yours. I’ve got to go, Mother. Ciao. (Turns off phone and replaces it under her garter. She poses sensuously.) Oh, hello there. See anything you like? (Waving her hands in front of her.) There are butterflies.
LILLIAN: What?
DIVA: Butterflies, butterflies! There are millions of butterflies. I’m being attacked by a gaggle of butterflies!
LILLIAN: A gaggle of butterflies?
DIVA: A herd? A swarm? A big bunch? Pretty butterflies. (She waves her hands and fingers in front of her as though they were a swarm of butterflies. She is definitely becoming very stoned on the punch.) I’m a butterfly.
LILLIAN: You’re definitely not a butterfly, Diva.
DIVA: I’m not?
LILLIAN: Not in this lifetime.
DIVA: Pity. (Speaking to young man.) Are you a butterfly? Then, who the hell are you? Who? The woman you helped onto the truck? That would be Muffy Hughes. No, no. She doesn’t live there. (Finds a sheet and casually throws it over MUFFY.) That’s Dr. Hall’s house. Muffy lives two doors over – next to the Sundowner Nursing Home for geriatric delinquents. But, she’s not home. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you want her for?
TINK: More. More. More.
DIVA: Tink, shut up! Lillian, if she wants more, give her more.
LILLIAN: (Giving TINK more punch.) Here you go, Tink. Miss Fidgety-twat’s got an itch Quasimoto wouldn’t scratch.
DIVA: (Ignoring the last.) Well, I will thank her for you the very next time I see her. Where? Umm . . . she went to. . . . Lillian, where did Muffy go after she was released from the hospital?
LILLIAN: Into the care of an evil, old hag from hunger!
DIVA: Hungary. Yes. She went to the goulash-scented hills of Hungary to recover in the care of her sweet peasant family.
LILLIAN: (To TINK.) Pig shit.
DIVA: On a pig farm. She needed to get in touch with her roots. It’ll help her recovery. Can I offer you some punch? It has absinthe in it. I’m told that it’s a lot like LSD. Colored lights, visions, that sort of thing. I never had LSD, but I did see Easy Rider and The Trip with Peter Fonda. Anyway, it’s free.
LILLIAN: With purchase.
DIVA: Now, now, dear Lillian. I am sure we could make an exception for this young, young . . . oh, so very young . . . young man.
LILLIAN: (To TINK.) That’s more “youngs” than in a Chinese phone book!
DIVA: You’ll have to excuse my friend. She had a hysterectomy yesterday. You’re going to do what? But, you can’t do that! It’s a long way off. Besides, how do you expect to find her? You’ve got to be kidding. Hungary’s a big place. It would be like finding a . . . a. . . .
LILLIAN: A very large, plump, dull needle in a haystack.
DIVA: Thank you, Lillian.
LILLIAN: Don’t mention it.
DIVA: (To man.) Well, if you’ve got to go, go. Don’t let me keep you from the love of your life. (Waving as he leaves.) Good bye. Good bye, my dear young . . . young . . .
LILLIAN: (Calling after him.) Have a nice day.
DIVA: (Calling after him.) Wait! Come back!
LILLIAN: Diva, Carlotta will kill you.
DIVA: Well, it won’t be the first time. (To man whom she signals to come closer.) I’m a filthy rich woman.
LILLIAN: You certainly are.
DIVA: (To LILLIAN.) Don’t think I don’t know what you meant by that, Lillian. (To man.) Now, you go up to that house. The door is unlocked. Go up the stairs to the second room on the right and wait for me. Make yourself comfortable. Relax. Take your shoes off. Whatever you like. I won’t be long. Remember – I’m very, very rich. (Blows him a kiss.) Later.
LILLIAN: Diva, you’re no better than Carlotta.
DIVA: Yeah? And your point is? (LILLIAN shakes her head disapprovingly. DIVA removes sheet from MUFFY.) How are we doing, Muffy? Sorry. You’ll thank me one day. Thank me. I said thank me, not spank me. You have a one-track mind, Muffy, and I’m afraid it runs right into the sewer. Sewer. Sewer. Oh, screw it!
TINK: (Fully awake. Sings.) I’M IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE!
DIVA: What?!
LILLIAN: I think she said. . . .
DIVA I know what she said. But, what does she mean?
TINK: (Sings.) WHEN THE RED, RED ROBIN COMES BOB, BOB, BOBBIN’ ALONG!
DIVA: What’s gotten into her?
LILLIAN: I think the punch is kicking in.
TINK: I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. The Tarantula Arms. That’s where I took my victims. Rub-a-dub-dub. Three men in a tub, and what a filthy tub!
DIVA: Is it me or is it her?
LILLIAN: I think its Tennessee Williams.
DIVA: Then, you hear it, too.
LILLIAN: Yes, Diva. I hear it, too.
TINK: (Definitely a man’s voice.) Diva Hollingsworth! I’m in the garden . . . playing with my cucumber.
DIVA: No, you’re not. You’re in my yard . . . rotting in your wheelchair.
TINK: Dumplin’, it's me. It’s your little Mooky.
DIVA: Horace? Is that you?
TINK: I’ve come to give you a message from the great beyond.
DIVA: Lillian, come here, quick!
LILLIAN (Crossing.) What?
DIVA: (In a loud whisper.) I see dead people.
LILLIAN: What?
DIVA: (In a louder whisper.) I see dead people.
LILLIAN: Oh, who doesn’t? Have you been to Wal-Mart lately? Dead people. Stupid people. People who probably aren’t really people. (Gulping punch.) Wow! This stuff has some kick!
TINK: Teeth.
DIVA: Teeth? What about teeth?
TINK: They bite.
DIVA: That’s it? They bite?
TINK: That and . . . oh, yes . . . you’re going to die.
DIVA: What?
TINK: You’re a mean, self-centered, selfish, manipulating, overbearing twit.
DIVA: How can you say such a thing? Who do you think I’m doing all this for? For you, Horace. For you.
TINK: Face the truth, Mooky. You only want that Faberge egg for yourself. What do I care? I’m dead! The pickle jar is just fine. In fact, I like my ashes in a pickle jar. It keeps me close to the memory of what I loved most.
DIVA: Thank you, Horace.
TINK: Not you, you great colossal cow! My cucumbers. I want to live in cucumber fields forever!
DIVA: But, you’re dead, Horace. You’re dead.
TINK: And, you’re not?
DIVA: Of course, I’m not.
TINK: But, you’re going to.
DIVA: I am not going to!
LILLIAN: You’re not going to what, Diva?
DIVA: I am not going to die.
LILLIAN: Of course not. Well, not right away. But, someday . . . someday you will.
DIVA: (Real panic.) I will?
LILLIAN: Most definitely.
TINK: I’ve got to go now. The great Wisdom Tooth calls.
DIVA: No. You can’t go. Come back . . . (Shakes TINK furiously.) Come back, Horace! Come back!
LILLIAN: What are you doing, Diva? You’re going to kill Tink again! You can’t go around shaking people her age.
DIVA: (Coming to her senses.) What are you talking about?
LILLIAN: Well, you were talking to Carlotta’s Greek and then you . . .
DIVA: Carlotta’s Greek?
LILLIAN: The one in the poster. Don’t you remember? You nearly molested the poor man. And, telling him all those things before sending him up to your house to wait for you. I could blush. I really could blush.
DIVA: What are you talking about, Lillian? I was talking to that leather-clad man of Muffy’s who’s off to Hungary to find her and marry her.
LILLIAN: Diva, I think the punch is having its way with you.
TINK: Why not? Everybody else has had their way with her!
DIVA: There! Did you hear that?
LILLIAN: Hear what?
DIVA: Horace.
LILLIAN: Horace? Where, Diva? Where is Horace?
DIVA: In Tink. Horace is inside Tink.
LILLIAN: It’s the punch, Diva.
TINK: It’s the punch, you silly cow!
DIVA: (Screams.) Oh, my God! I remember!
LILLIAN: What?
DIVA: I’m going to die. Help me, Lillian. I’m going to die.
LILLIAN: You are not going to die.
DIVA: Not today, no. But, one day I’m going to die. You said so yourself.
LILLIAN: Sweetie, everybody dies sooner or later.
DIVA: It never occurred to me.
LILLIAN: I can’t believe that a woman your age never gave any thought to her own mortality.
DIVA: Believe it! I’ve been a mean, self-centered twit and I’m going to die. Sobbing.) LILLIAN: (Hugging and comforting her.) There, there. You’re not going to die. DIVA: I’ve been mean and manipulative and self-centered . . . .
LILLIAN: (After a pause.) Like I said, you’re not going to die. It’s the absinthe in the punch. Think of something nice and it’ll pass.
DIVA: (Crying.) I mean, I know people die. People die every day. But, it’s not something I ever thought would happen to me.
LILLIAN: Pull yourself together. Think about something nice. Think about the seashore.
DIVA: The seashore?
LILLIAN: You’ve always liked the seashore. Think about the waves lapping at your toes . . . your feet . . . your ankles . . . (DIVA begins to move slowing, feeling the water lapping her feet and rising upwards. She writhes in slow-motion ecstasy. Her arms fly out as though conducting some heavenly orchestra only she can hear. Slowly we see she is on the verge of an orgasm. LILLIAN continues.) . . . your legs . . . your knees . . . your thighs . . . your . . . . Diva, what on earth are you doing?
DIVA: Don’t stop! Not now! Oh yes! This is it! Oh God! This is good!
LILLIAN: (Shakes her to her senses.) Stop! Now! Bad girl! Bad. You’ve got to get hold of yourself. You could get arrested for feeling what you’re feeling in a public place.
DIVA: Arrest me! Put me in handcuffs, in chains . . . do with me what you will! I’m free! I’m free! Over here! I’m free. Free.
LILLIAN: Diva, it’s the punch talking. Get control of yourself!
(The MUSIC to "Boogie Woogie Diva" begins. This is a simple boogie woogie beat that can easily be improvised. You may also cut the following song and use any recording of your choice and have the “ladies" lip-sync.)
DIVA: I love the night life!
LILLIAN: Of course you do.
DIVA: I've got to boogie! Boogie Woogie!
LILLIAN: You go girl!
DIVA: (Sings to a Boogie Woogie beat.)
I'M YOUR BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
COME AND GIVE ME A WHIRL
YOUR HOSTESS WITH THE MOSTESS
YOUR COME-AND-GET-IT GIRL
ALL:
BOOGIE
BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
BOOGIE
BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
THE DISH OF THE HOUR
SWEET AND HOT AND SOUR
SHE'S COOKIN' WITH GAS
DIVA:
YOU BET YOUR ASS!
ALL:
BOOGIE
BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
BOOGIE
BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
TINK & LILLIAN:
SHE'S A HOT PETUTIE
A REAL GONE CUTIE
A FLAMIN' STAR
DIVA:
COME ON BOYS
BEAT ME EIGHT TO THE BAR
ALL:
BOOGIE
BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
BOOGIE
BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
FREE AND CHEAP AND SLEEZY
IN FACT SHE'S REALLY EASY
A PENNY, A NICKLE, A DIME
SHE'S GOT THE TIME!
DIVA:
MEET-CHA 'ROUND THE CORNER IN A HALF AN HOUR
ALL:
BOOGIE
BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
BOOGIE
BOOGIE WOOGIE DIVA
NOTHIN' COULD BE FINER
THAN DIVA IN THE MORNIN'
AFTER SHE'S PUT ON HER FACE
TWICE!
(DANCE and repeat.)
DIVA starts shaking her leg with uncontrollable fervor. DIVA reaches under her dress and retrieves the cell phone.
DIVA: (Answers phone.) This better be good, Mother! Oh, Carlotta. What do you want? I haven’t got your Greek. No, I haven’t. What makes you think that? My mother called you, did she? Saw him going into my house? Well, if that’s what she told you, then I guess its true – although, I don’t remember a thing. No, I have no intention of giving him back. Finder’s keepers. Reward? A finder’s fee? What kind of a finder’s fee? Really? Really? You’ve got a deal, girlfriend! (Replaces phone under garter. To LILLIAN.) Lillian, you’ll never believe what just happened? (Pours herself some punch.) Carlotta is giving me her Faberge egg in exchange for her Greek. Isn’t life wonderful? (Takes a big gulp.) Lillian, this is the best stuff I’ve ever had. (Spies a potential customer.)
DIVA & LILLIAN: Free punch . . . with purchase. Free punch . . . with purchase.
LILLIAN: Oh, hello there. Can I show you something? That? That . . . oh dear, it looks like a pistol. Diva, what’s this pistol doing here?
DIVA: What do you think it is doing, Lillian?
LILLIAN: What’s it doing here, Diva?
DIVA: Waiting to be sold.
LILLIAN: Where did you get it?
DIVA: It’s Horace’s old starter pistol. He used it over at the community theatre when they did those melodramas. I believe the last time he used it was when he played the sheriff in Dirty Dick From Deadwood. It shoots blanks. But, then, so did Horace.
LILLIAN: (To potential customer.) I’m afraid it only shoots blanks. See anything else that interests you? That’s a jar of . . . good God! What’s in this jar, Diva?
DIVA: Teeth. Molars, bicuspids, canine, wisdom . . . teeth. Horace never could throw anything away. Those represent forty years of extractions. There are probably some contributions from Carlotta Bean in there.
LILLIAN: (Tries to lift large jar.) Holy Christmas, this would give the Tooth Fairy a hernia! (To customer.) Now, here’s something you might want to invest in. Can I interest you in a genuine pre-Columbian fertility goddess? It was a wedding present. No. We never did have any children. If you like, I’ll take off ten percent for impotence. Tools? I don’t think so. Diva, do we have any tools?
DIVA: What do I look like, a mechanic? How about a screw? I’ve got some loose screws from Muffy’s walker. Or a vibrator? (Holds up vibrator – her arms shaking from the vibrations.) Oh my! That’s a perky little number.
LILLIAN: (As customer leaves.) Sorry we couldn’t help you. Some what? I’m sorry. We don’t allow any free punch unless you buy something. Have a nice day.
DIVA: Free loader! My, this vibrator sure has a kick. (Drops it in TINK’s lap.)
TINK: (Wakes. Grabs vibrator and starts to vibrate madly.) Help! Help!
DIVA: For Pete’s sake, enjoy it, Tink.
TINK: Diva, if I wasn’t in this chair I’d . . . I’d . . .
DIVA: (As Bette Davis.) But you are, Blanche. You are in that chair.
LILLIAN: Diva, you can’t leave her vibrating like that. She’ll get seasick or something.
DIVA: Let her have her fun. That battery can’t have that much juice left in it.
LILLIAN: She’s starting to turn blue.
DIVA: She’s always had a touch of blue.
LILLIAN: Suppose it’s one of those . . . (She hiccups.) . . . bunny batteries?
TINK: (Still vibrating.) Help! Help!
DIVA: What on earth are you talking about, Lillian?
LILLIAN: You know, the kind that keep going and going and going . . . (Hiccups.) . . . and going and going and going . . . .
DIVA: What is wrong with you, Lillian?
LILLIAN: I got the . . . (Hiccups.) . . . the . . . (Hiccups.) . . . hiccups. You better scare me, Diva.
TINK: (Still vibrating.) Help! Help!
DIVA: What?
LILLIAN: I said you better . . . scare me. (Hiccups.)
DIVA picks up the pistol and shoots it into the air. TINK stops vibrating. LILLIAN stop hiccuping. There is a long SILENCE before DIVA’s cell phone RINGS.
DIVA: (Lays down the pistol and retrieves the phone.) Diva, here. Mother, I asked you not to . . . what? What did you call 911 for? No, mother, nobody’s being murdered. It was just Horace’s old starter pistol. You know, the one from Dirty Dick From Deadwood.
There is the SOUND of police SIRENS and the red and blue LIGHTS of squad cars flashing across the yard.
DIVA: Mother, I need to hang up now.
VOICE OVER BULL HORN: WE HAVE THE PLACE SURROUNDED. PUT DOWN YOUR ARMS AND RAISE YOUR HANDS.
LILLIAN: How do I do that, Diva? How do I put down my arms and raise my hands?
DIVA: Don’t be a ninny, Lillian! (Holding out the cell phone.) It’s just a cell phone.
VOICE OVER BULL HORN: PUT YOUR ARMS DOWN AND RAISE YOUR HANDS.
TINK: (Holds out vibrator.) It’s just a vibrator.
VOICE OVER BULL HORN: THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING. PUT YOUR ARMS DOWN AND RAISE YOUR HANDS.
LILLIAN: (Picks up pistol and points it toward police.) It’s just a starter pistol. It shoots blanks. (The gun accidentally goes off.) Oops. . . .
DIVA: (Into phone.) Mother, I’ve got to go now . . .
BLACK OUT. The SOUND of a barrage of gunfire. Slowly, the LIGHTING returns.
LILLIAN: Thank you, officer, you've been so understanding.
TINK: Holy Tandalaya Lipshitz! I'm alive.
DIVA: (Holding something tightly to her bosom. To Muffy.) Are you in there, Muffy? You didn't get shot, did you? (Leaning in to listen.) No, dear. I know how you love men in uniform but this would not be a good time to hit on a policeman. (To policeman. She seems to be fine, officer.
LILLIAN: (To policeman.) Oh, I swear, officer, we'll never do anything like that again. Would you like some punch? Sorry, no donuts. Toodles
ALL: (Waving "goodbye" to policeman.) Have a nice day.
LILLIAN: Diva, are you okay?
DIVA: (Still holding something clutched to her bosom.) I . . . I . . . I . . .
LILLIAN: You're not having a stroke, are you?
DIVA: NO! LOOK! (Holds out a large jewel encrusted gold Faberge egg.)
LILLIAN: Oh, sweet Liberace! It's a Faberge egg. Where did it come from?
DIVA: I don't know. In all the confusion of the gun fire, somebody ran up and put it in my hands.
LILLIAN: Who was it?
TINK: Don't look at me. I don't do running.
DIVA: (Shaking her leg wildly. to LILLIAN.) Here hold this. (Gives egg to LILLIAN. Retrieves phone and answers it.) Hello. I'm special and you're not. Oh, it's you . . .Uh huh . . . Uh huh . . . (Listening. Adding an "uh huh" every so often.)
LILLIAN: (Opening egg.) Oh look. M&Ms. (Offering some to TINK)
TINK: I'm diabetic. Well, maybe one. Oh, a green one. I love the green ones.
LILLIAN: They're all the same.
TINK: Oh, no, there's something about the green ones.
DIVA: (Into phone.) It's beautiful! It's wonderful! It's marvelous! Horace will fit very nicely in it.
LILLIAN: (To DIVA.) Lose the M&Ms first.
DIVA: Oh, mother, you're just fantastic! How did you ever get Carlotta to part with it? Oh. Oh, well, a Greek for an egg seems a fair exchange. We will, mother. Yes, of course, we will. Ciao to you too, darling. (Replaces phone.) She loves me. She really, really loves me.
LILLIAN: What did she say?
DIVA: Be gay.
LILLIAN: Be gay?
DIVA: She wants to see us be gay. She wants us to sing and dance and be filled with happiness, love and joy. Oh, girls, I have the most wonderful mother in the whole wide world!
TINK: The loon has changed her tune.
DIVA: Watch it, Tink! You're not the only bitch on wheels around here!
LILLIAN: So much for gaiety, love and joy.
TINK: Do you remember the routine we did at the Firemen's Ball?
LILLIAN: I just love firemen!
MUSIC begins.
DIVA: I don't know if I still remember it.
LILLIAN: Of course you do.
DIVA and LILLIAN take a few hesitant steps as they slowly work their way into a big, splashy, flag-waving reprise of "Boogie Woogie Diva" or song of your choice.
BLACK OUT.
END OF PLAY
1:47 AM
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