Lauren and I are posting together. A play of “musical theatrics” in one act.
There is no curtain. Therefore, the curtain does not rise on a lone bus in a lone lot. The sign on the bus reads, ‘Old Phoebe.’ Food smells.
A clatter of inexpertly tickled chimes sounds.
A very pretty, red-haired Madame (Rizelle) is sweeping her eyebrows with a tiny broom. She is played by Lauren. Rizelle scoots to center stage on her bottom, a trill of piano keys married with the chimes are heard. She squats on her hams in the spotlight and sings sweetly in an improvised soprano:
Rizelle: The rain falls, I wish I had a shawl. Today is a grey day, good for nothing day, and the bus ticket guy just walked on the bus and I forgot to buy a ticket.
Chorus: Mathematics! Mathematics!
Diane Beaumont: (In bass tones) I feel like I’m really part of this. I’ll do the deep parts, ok? (reapeat to chorus)
The singing stops. There is a general sigh of gratitude.
Rizelle: A lady is sitting next to me. She creaks and cranks her jaw and curses the man sitting next to her. “I curse you! You mother fucka!”
All throughout Rizelle’s crusade, this lady has been mumbling violently, vigorously, “how could you do this to me! How dare you do this to me!’ She is scary. And sad.
Lady: But and.
She attempts to compromise Rizelle’s feminine innocence with a few sharp tugs on Rizelle’s gown.
Rizelle: Now, just a minute, missy. oh, no. Don’t, please. Don’t–
Just then! Gilly sweeps onto the stage and hops on top of the rogue lady. Gilly is male and female and overconfident in both femininity and masculinity. Mostly, Gilly fancies her/himself a famous and important individual.
Gilly: You, there! Cease and desist! How dare you judge the woman with the creaky jaw and then there’s your lack of shawl! Boo hoo! The rain falls gently on the plain in Spain and Portland, so get over it! Right and wrong, ying and yang! I am the master of the plains of ying and yang! Never use tongs when handling FISH! I am the captain of the mail. I wear a cape to protect from the rain! There is a lot of justice to be had and even more justice to be not had.
Lady: But and! But and! Butt sand!
Gilly: (Fights her and loses. It’s mostly her kicking that does it) I’m so over you.
Gilly exits. A showstopping musical number follows. The horn section takes the intro in a thrusty, arousing fashion, like a John Philip Souza march or something. Is that how you spell that guy’s name? Anyway, it’s very American feeling. The lyrics are like,
Chorus: Ha Ha Harump rump. Ta ra Ta ra Ta ra.
With the American spirit pulsing through her, Rizelle approaches the window of the Old Phoebe. The inside is dark. She taps on the glass.
Rizelle: One burger with homemade Jewish tater tots, applesauce, and sour cream please!
The light snaps on in the window, and Diane is there.
Diane: Vegetable burger or lamb and beef burger?
Rizelle: Vegetable for my number one and lamb and beef for my next numbers.
Diane: What?
The music starts up. Diane scratches her feet because she feels awkward. She shifts her eyes back and forth in obvious social discomfort.
Rizelle: (singing LOUDLY) Vegetable, Vegetable, and to-ma-to. Bread and pickles, sauce and more bread, cheese and lettuce, onions and other things. Oh yeah, yeah. Yes, yeah. Kids don’t like you, but I like you. I have friends who also like you.
Chorus: Yeah! Yeah! VegMath! Math! Math! vEGETALBE iNTERNET.
It is useful to note that the chorus, which is disobedient and has a collective mind of its fucking own, loves mathematical calculations. If it had its own stupid way, it would sing of only math and figures, nothing else.
Diane: um, your food is ready. It’s seven dollars.
Rizelle (still singing): No!
Diane (singing): Yes!
In struts Gilly.
Gilly: I’ll take a large Diet Coke with very little ice, please.
Diane: Not a house made drinking vinegar? Not a soda made out of flowers and spices? Not a smoothie? Not a coffee? Not a tea? With honey? Tea and honey?
Gilly: I’ll take a large Diet Coke with very little ice, please.
Diane: I’ll take a large Diet Coke with very little ice, please.
Gilly: That sounds good. I’ll have that, too.
Diane: That’s what I’ll have. Order up for two burgers, three burgers, two times three burgers, math veggie burger, order up!
Rizelle: Thank you, thank you, oh, thank you!
Rizelle is working her way up to the window when she bumps into Diet Coke Gilly. Their eyes connect. The very little ice in the Diet Coke starts to melt and the liquid on the outside of the cup trickles down Gilly’s finger. The burgers in the bag start to muster a delicious smell that flirts with the air that’s held between Gilly and Rizelle. Food smells. Sex sells. If “it” (bosom) heaves, it leads.
The music grows louder like a growl at this point.
Diane (singing low) : Just bone and get it over with. Grab the tit. Get it over with. Tit. I’m over it.
Chorus: Mathamatics! Mathamatics! Basic! Mathamatics! Exercise your discomfort!
Diane joins the chorus. A stagehand has handed her a plate of beef and a bag of Bugles. She “doggie bags” the beef, and opens the bugles. This inspires several members of the audience, whose throat is parched, to dig mints out of purses and unravel hidden cough drops. There is a loud and collective crinkling of plastic. A disturbance. Love blooms in several areas.
The two lovers seize hands. The audience gets uncomfortable because the staging feels forced. They swing around and around, getting dizzy, holding hands. This is what sex looks like.
A small boy dressed as a golden spoon enters this steam room. His name is “Shit.”
Shit: I’m telling my parents on you.
