I had to write a couple of plays for my creative writing class the last trimester of college, and I wondered if you'd like to read one of them.
What does this have to do with Fry and Laurie, you ask?
Well... both this play and the first I wrote were based vaguely off of stuff from Jeeves & Wooster or A Bit of Fry and Laurie. This play I'm posting was even going to be a Neddy and Jack-based play if I couldn't think of something better. Luckily, I did. (Though a Neddy and Jack-based play WOULD be kind of amusing, if anyone else wants to write it....)
Comments would be appreciated! 3nodding And, if you want, this thread can be used for other people to display their far-greater writing talent, if they so desire.
Anyway, here you go:
The Diner
A play by Fluxit Aqua et Sanguine
Characters: JACK, a well-dressed man in his mid-thirties
CELIA, a waitress, mid-twenties
Setting: This play takes place in New York City, in the present day. The scene is set in an empty railway restaurant, late at night. There is a long dining-table near to stage left with a bell and a cash register, in front of which is a chair. There is a sign beside the table reading “MENU” with a number of soups and sandwiches listed on it. A toy gun will be required eventually.
A spotlight snaps on stage right, with Jack standing in the middle. He is wearing a suit, a hat and carrying a large briefcase with him, looking a bit dishevelled and rather anachronistic. As the light comes up, he begins to look around in the audience, seemingly curious about their presence.
JACK: (To the audience.) It’s nice to see such a big crowd, all to hear my little story. Surprised there’d be such interest, really. Well, let me tell you, it all started the way you don’t think. That’s to say, it happened strangely. Out-of-the-blue. With a certain measure of curiosity, you might say. It all started when I went to the railway diner that evening, hoping to catch a bowl of soup before my train got in. (Runs across the stage to the table where CELIA is standing; the spotlight follows him until the lights come up to illuminate the scene on stage left. JACK speaks breathlessly when he begins, as if he has just run a long distance.) Excuse… ex—pardon me, Miss, but I need a bowl of something hot, fast as you can give it to me.
CELIA: (Tiredly; without looking at JACK.) Of course you do. Too bad I just donated my ovaries to the Society for Asexual Women. You might have had a chance last night, Slick.
JACK: (Pause.) What? (To the audience.) She really hit me over the head, ol’ Celia. But, then, I’d always been rather susceptible to misunderstanding since the Incident. Haven’t been quite the same up here since. (Taps himself on the forehead before returning to CELIA.) I don’t know what that has to do with anything, lady. I just want a bowl of soup. The ten-thirty’s arriving soon.
CELIA: (Looks up.) Fine. What sort of soup would you like?
JACK: What sorts do you have?
CELIA: (Brightly.) Well, there’s the Goat’s Blood, of course, which people really seem to like. Not quite as much as the one with a base of Destroying Angel Mushroom, though. (Points to a sign beside the table.) Just read the menu, genius.
JACK: Oh… right. (Pause.) I’ll have the potato soup, if you please.
CELIA: Sorry. We’ve only got tomato left.
JACK: Well, I’ll have some of that, then.
CELIA: Cup or bowl?
JACK: (To the audience.) I didn’t know what this lady was getting at, but boy if it didn’t blow my mind clear across the room. She was a mysterious girl, that Celia. (To CELIA.) I don’t know. What do you think?
CELIA: (Pause.) I think you should decide if you want your soup in a cup or a bowl. Maybe you’d just like to drink it off the damn table.
JACK: Oh. Why would I want to do that? (Pause.) I guess I’ll take a bowl, please. I’m going to be here awhile.
CELIA: Thought you said you had a train to catch.
JACK: No, I’ve just always thought that the ten-thirty soup was the best in these railway restaurants. They must like the late-night travellers better, see. I have this theory that—
CELIA: Whatever you say, Slick.
JACK: I never told you my name! And besides, it’s not really ‘Slick’. See, I haven’t been called that since the time in school when we had the butter-eating contest. I bet you can guess who the winner was. (Winks at the audience.)
CELIA: (Looks curiously in the same direction before turning back to JACK.) Are you trying to be funny?
JACK: No. Just ordering soup, like any fine, upstanding English gentleman would do.
CELIA: (Pause.) You know that we’re in New York City, right? And that you sound as American as Apple Pie and anti-tax protesters?
JACK: (To the audience.) Celia wasn’t always the brightest of girls. But damn it if I didn’t love her from the second I realized her endearing stupidity. (To Celia.) Poor, poor Miss Railway Waitress! I can see that I’m confusing you.
CELIA: (Mockingly.) “Miss Railway Waitress?” But I haven’t been called that since I was a stripper at Erotic Al’s Lust Emporium! (Seriously.) Look, buddy, just call me Jane, and maybe we can get along until you take yourself and your crazy head somewhere else.
JACK: You know, you look more like a Celia to me.
CELIA: (Sighs exasperatedly.) I’m going to check on the soup. It won’t take a minute, if you want to make yourself comfortable. (Exit stage left.)
JACK: (Sits, then speaks to the audience.) You can see why I loved her from the start, I know. She was so bumbling, but with good intentions. You couldn’t ignore that. Plus she was a belle you could get used to ringing, if you take my meaning. (CELIA enters stage left.) What’s the word on the soup, Cellie?
CELIA: It’s going to be awhile. The cook’s having some trouble with the stove and we’ve to heat the stuff up. You came in a bit late for our best soup. (Reluctantly.) So, what brings you to New York City, Mister—?
JACK: Jack’s the name, doll. Nice to hear some decency from a gal like you. You don’t get that much here in the metropolis—most everyone here’s a harlot or the snobbish type with her hands in interpretive dance or the opera or some other artsy crap. I’m here on business.
CELIA: Oh, Lord…. What kind of business?
JACK: Just entrepreneurial things… hawking my goods on the streets… that sort of thing. It’s been a real trial, I can tell you. People just aren’t buying in this economy, lady. Sometimes you just have to sell what the public needs, and, boy, I sure try to provide that service.
CELIA: I suppose so. What do you sell?
JACK: The usual sort of stuff. Methamphetamines, cocaine, even some heroin when I can get it—
CELIA: Whoa there, Jack. Back up a sec. You said that you’re out on the streets selling drugs to people?
JACK: Hit it on the head! (To the audience.) The girl was impressed with me from the start. The birds always are when you tell them that you’re a big-shot in the business world. It’s one of the benefits of the trade, really.
CELIA: I don’t understand—
JACK: (To CELIA.) I’ve got some here in my briefcase if you’d like to take a look, along with my trusty revolver! Look here, I’ve got just the sort of stuff for you, a girl having to stand here on the late shifts, listening to the woes of her customers and all that—
CELIA: (With alarm.) No, no! That’s quite all right, Jack… I believe you, I believe you…. (Pause.) Do you… get a lot of business?
JACK: Sometimes, sometimes… depends on the time of day and the supply, really, Cellie. And whether or not that damn pimp down on 42nd Street is having a two-fer.
CELIA: A what?
JACK: A two-fer! You know, “two-for-one”? I would’ve thought an ex-stripper would know the lingo. (To the audience.) She was coming on to me. I could see it in the way she asked me about my job with such interest—people usually didn’t care. Stopped after I’d told them about the business, you know. And the revolver, of course. That was usually a bit of a show-stopper. Celia was different, the sweet girl. I really couldn’t help myself, and, after that, I had to ask her to be mine. (Opens his briefcase to reveal his revolver, then speaks to CELIA.) Celia… do you ever think about love?
CELIA: (Nervously, eyeing the weapon.) All the time. Let me go see if your soup is ready, now… just… call if you need me, Jack…. (Exit stage left.)
JACK: (To the audience.) She could see that I was going to propose something just by looking. The shake in her voice said it all. Well, I couldn’t blame the girl for being nervous. A pretty thing like that here in the tough city with nothing to protect her honor but a flimsy apron and the menu board would have to be a little wary sometimes, I’m sure. (Mimes aiming his revolver around the audience.) But I didn’t care. Love at first sight isn’t something I can just put off, you know. (CELIA enters stage left.)
CELIA: (Laughing nervously.) Well… it seems that the soup’s taking longer to make than I thought it would! The cook’s getting lazy since it’s the night shift, you know.
JACK: Listen, Cellie. I think we’ve known each other for long enough now for me to make a little confession to you.
CELIA: Yes?
JACK: My dear little Cellie, that’s just like you to say. “Yes.” You’re the most endearing girl I’ve ever met, and I’ve no hesitation in saying that I’d like you to be my wife.
CELIA: (Pause.) Come again?
JACK: (To the audience.) She was struck almost completely dumb, I could see. (Though she’d been before, too, if you get me.) But, then, anyone would be awed as she was if being propositioned by a Don Juan of my caliber. (Falls to his knees in front of the table.) Marry me, Celia. With your waitressing skills, and my supplies, we’ll put all the pimps in the Broadway District out of work.
CELIA: (Pause.) We just met, Jack—
JACK: Don’t you believe in love at first sight, my dear, lovely Celia?
CELIA: Well, I—
JACK: I do. (To audience.) And I think that everyone who doesn’t should be taken out back and shot. (Spins revolver over his finger before speaking to CELIA.) What do you say, my little spring rose?
CELIA: (A Pause. CELIA stands wringing her apron for a short time before climbing over the table and throwing her arms around JACK.) YES, JACK! I love you! I have since the moment you walked in here, my dear, dear Jack! (Laughs hysterically; obviously humouring him. After a few moments, she lets go of him and stands back from him slightly.)
JACK: (To audience.) She really made me happy, you know. Especially when she was so happy. All that laughing, and the tears in her eyes… the way she kept checking on the soup for me…. But there was only so long a gentleman could stand being crowded by his gal. I mean, how long could you stand it? You’re thinking that you’ve found the light of your life, your “true love,” then she just starts taking so much out of you that you can’t stand the sight of her annoying mug. (To CELIA.) Celia, I think it’s time we had a serious talk. I don’t know that this is working out.
CELIA: (In a trembling voice.) What?
JACK: You’ve been holding me down. I need to expand my horizons… meet new people. It’s a shame it had to end like this, love.
CELIA: But… no, Jack, please, we can work this out! (Grasps Jack’s empty hand.) Please… remember your ideas, about your sales? We can do it all, Jack, whatever you ******** want, just… put the gun down.
JACK: It’s too late for that, my dear. I’m sorry. (Steps back to level his revolver at CELIA’S chest and shoots before she can run away. Speaks to the audience.) Poor girl. She should’ve seen that men in my line don’t have time for true love, or the time to get others involved in our business schemes. Too risky. (Pause; looks at his feet.) Well, anyway, that’s my life’s story. Nice of you to drop by to see it. (Rings a bell on the table; yells into stage left.) How long does it take you to make up a bowl of God-damned tomato soup?
(The light falls.)
