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Café Phryque
a Two-Act Play
Cast of Characters
Allison,
19, barista at Café Phryque, the “sexy-cute” type.
Ray-El,
thirtyish, freelance fang designer, portly.
Kizer,
21, the “normal” kid, blue-collar, good-looking.
Honcho,
25-ish, skinny, squirrely skateboard freak.
Mimi,
22, barista at the café, tall, dark, elegant.
Fierce,
16, rock singer, forceful, good-looking.
Grady,
32, café manager, den mother.
Man,
middle-aged, businessman.
Justin,
7, Grady’s son.
The Time
Late
summer. The present.
The Place
Act
I, Scene one. Exterior of Café Phryque, afternoon.
Scene
two. A week later, morning.
Scene
three. Same, that night.
Scene
four. Same, three months later, morning.
Act
II, Scene one. Three days later, afternoon.
Scene
two. Same, a week later, afternoon.
Scene
three. Same, that night.
Scene
four. Two days later, early afternoon.
Scene
five. Same, a week later, afternoon.
Scene
six. Same, five years later, evening.
Running
Time: 93 minutes (48 Act I, 45 Act II)
ACT
ONE, SCENE ONE
Setting: Exterior of Café
Phryque, a typical coffeehouse (set designers are encouraged to model it after
specific local cafes). One large table, with four or five chairs – two or three
smaller tables in the background. A central entrance into the café interior. A
newspaper box at stage right, hidden from the main table by a broad column or
other obstacle.
Note: All directions from
stage POV.
At Rise: ALLISON, 19, kneels
next to the table, dressed in barista clothes. RAY-EL, thirtyish, sits next to
her in a chair. He is dressed in black, with a long coat, and wears white
“goth” makeup. He has one hand in Allison’s mouth, holding on to something. In
the other, he holds a stopwatch. There’s an umbrella on the table, and a large
case for Ray-el’s equipment.
RAY-EL
Hold on, honey. Ten more
seconds.
(ALLISON mutters something
incomprehensible.)
Believe me, honey. If you can fight that gag reflex, you
will be ever-so-popular with the boys.
(ALLISON
mutters something incomprehensible and X-rated.)
Three,
two, one, and… okay! Open up as wide as you can…
ALLISON
(Spits
out rubbery blue mass.)
Aaaungh!
RAY-EL
wipes the blue mass with a towel, and studies it closely.
RAY-EL
Despite
what everyone says, Allison, you make a fine impression.
ALLISON
(Smacking
her lips.)
Thank
God. Bleah! That stuff is awful.
RAY-EL
(Hands
her a mint.)
Here.
ALLISON
Thanks.
So when do you think it’ll be ready?
RAY-EL
First,
I’ll need a fifty-dollar deposit.
ALLISON
Jesus!
A little forceful on the fiscal policy, Shylock.
RAY-EL
Honey,
I’m a businessman. I’ve already laid out quite a bit on supplies – plus I had
to put my hand in your mouth for five minutes.
ALLISON
A
lot of men would pay me for that.
RAY-EL
Fifty
smackers.
ALLISON
All
right, all right. Check okay?
RAY-EL
Sure.
I’ll have the item ready on Tuesday. Meet me here at five.
ALLISON
Cool.
So it stays on like three months, right?
RAY-EL
Bingo.
But you need to take them out the second they get loose. I don’t want you
choking.
ALLISON
(Hands
him the check.)
You’re
so caring for your patients.
RAY-EL
A
fatality would put a large dent in my business.
ALLISON
Oh
thanks! I’m gonna get a mocha. Maybe that’ll get this shit outta my mouth.
ALLISON
enters café. RAY-EL stows the mold in his case, then extracts a meerschaum
pipe, taps in some tobacco and lights up. KIZER enters left. He’s the “normal”
kid, 21, clean-cut, but wears black jeans and black T-shirts to fit in.
KIZER
Damn!
Can’t have a nice peaceful riot anymore without all this tear gas.
RAY-EL
Yeah,
yeah. Like you don’t have any bad habits.
KIZER
Actually,
I don’t.
RAY-EL
So
you’re the one. That is so fucking annoying.
KIZER
I
owe it all to my Mormon upbringing.
RAY-EL
I
thought that’s why you left Utah.
KIZER
One
does not need a reason to leave Utah. But the Mormons are a very healthy bunch.
Every freakish cult has a couple of good
ideas.
RAY-EL
Hare
Krishnas have very little dandruff.
KIZER
(Studies
Ray-el.)
What
is missing from this picture?
RAY-EL
reaches into his case, pulls out a Sherlock Holmes cap, and puts it on.
Amazing!
RAY-EL
(In
Holmesian voice.)
If
one is going to be an eccentric, Watson, one must apply oneself. So! Previous
topic. The Mormon health program allows caffeine?
KIZER
Mine
certainly does. Caffeine be making you smart, baby. Nothing wrong with being
smart.
RAY-EL
I
might argue with that. When life sucks so bad, do you really want to be more
aware of how badly it’s sucking?
KIZER
Yes!
Awareness is king.
RAY-EL
Masochist.
Pause.
RAY-EL takes a long puff.
KIZER
How’s
business?
RAY-EL
(Pulls
out blue mold, sets it on the table.)
Allison.
KIZER
No!
May I?
RAY-EL
Go
ahead. You’re a stockholder.
KIZER
(Picks
it up and studies it.)
Like
to get in there sometime.
RAY-EL
I’ve
been there.
KIZER
I
think we’re talking about different parts.
HONCHO,
25-ish, squirrely, skinny skatedude (with bad teeth) enters right on
Rollerblades and comes to a crash-landing in a chair. As he speaks, he takes
off his blades, pulls a pair of slipper-style athletic shoes from his pack.
HONCHO
Ray-el,
dude! Hey Kizer.
KIZER
Hi.
RAY-EL
How’s
death, Honcho?
HONCHO
Oh!
A good one today. I’m rolling toward the intersection at Garcia – across from
the fire station?
RAY-EL
Yeah.
HONCHO
Wuhl,
Stevens Creek is a steady downgrade, right? So I’m rolling at a pretty good
clip, and when you get up to Garcia you gotta make a choice: burn a little
brake pad slowing yourself down, or steam on through. Now, in my sights I’ve
got this old Japanese lady in the left turn lane, coming the other way. I’m
pretty good at reading car body-language, so to speak, and she is definitely
waiting for me, so I lift back up off the rubber and zip! I’m goin’ in.
RAY-EL
Uh-oh.
HONCHO
Exactly.
Grandma ain’t waitin’ for me at all. She’s waiting for this bus that has just
passed me, and, what’s more, there’s a UPS truck thirty feet behind me and
gaining speed. Grandma shoots the gap between the bus and the truck, and has no
idea there’s a devilishly good-looking, fast-moving blader on the other side.
Wham! She launches me. I’m flyin’ head over heels over head, and the world is a
blur of asphalt and buildings and trees. It stops quite suddenly, when a
terribly hard and intrusive object chunks into my spine. I find that I am
draped bass-ackward across a fire hydrant, and pain isn’t even the question,
man. There’s a large blurry object in front of my left eye, and I realize it’s
one of my blades, with my leg still attached! Streams of blood are coming down
my face, and I’m fading into the big black, and right before I go I can see the
Japanese lady driving away in her big brown Buick, and my last worldly vision,
there on the back bumper, is one of those Darwin fish stickers.
RAY-EL
Nice
touch!
HONCHO
Yep!
Well, I think I’ve earned a frappe.
(Heads
into the café, stopping to look at the blue mold.)
Allison!
Sweet!
KIZER
looks confused. RAY-EL calmly taps out his pipe.
KIZER
What
the fuck was that?
RAY-EL
What?
KIZER
The
great fire hydrant massacre?
RAY-EL
Oh!
I thought you… Honcho’s got this thing about stories of death. Believe me, the
way people drive around here, it’s not much of a stretch. So he gets here,
tells everybody about his latest dramatic demise, and orders a frappe. It’s
pretty much the daily routine.
KIZER
That’s
funny! You’re the goth, and he’s obsessed with death.
RAY-EL
I’m
a what?
KIZER
A
goth? Black clothes, white makeup? Marilyn Manson, Anne Rice, Vlad the Impaler?
RAY-EL
I
have no idea what you’re talking about.
(Long,
awkward pause.)
‘Course,
lots of stuff will kill off Honcho before a Japanese lady in a Buick.
KIZER
What
do you mean?
RAY-EL
You’ve
seen those teeth? Lack of same?
KIZER
Yeah.
I guess. I’m not in the business.
RAY-EL
They
call it “meth-mouth.” They use some nasty shit to make methamphetamine: battery
acid, fertilizer, hydrogen peroxide. What it does is, it knocks out your
salivary glands. Saliva’s the only thing that keeps the acid in your food from
fucking up your teeth. Pretty soon, the enamel starts cracking off
mid-conversation. That’s why you don’t “do lunch” with Honcho.
KIZER
Wow.
So Honcho’s a meth-head.
RAY-EL
Where
do you think he gets all that energy?
KIZER
Quintuple-shot
frappes with ground-up coffee beans. Three times a day.
RAY-EL
There’s
your caffeine, Mormon-boy. Nothin’ but a gateway drug.
KIZER
And
you’re not a goth.
RAY-EL
Whatever
that is. So how come you haven’t had your customary latte?
KIZER
(Looks
at watch.)
Mimi
had a dentist appointment. She’s not due in till four.
RAY-EL
Ah,
yes. Mimi, your steamed-milk goddess.
KIZER
No
one is finer than Mimi.
RAY-EL
Allison’s
fine.
KIZER
Allison
makes mud. Allison should have her barista license taken away. You wanna see
Allison? Espresso shot in this hand, lukewarm milk in this hand, and…
(Tosses
both into an invisible glass.)
Goosh!
RAY-EL
Eeh!
KIZER
(Holds
up invisible glass and looks at it.)
Some
hideous, nasty shit, man. I think I once dug up something like that from the
bottom of a river.
MIMI
enters left, checking something on her cell phone. She’s tall and attractive,
22, with dark features (very Carmen).
MIMI
Oh!
Hi boys.
RAY-EL
Hey,
Meems.
KIZER
Um…
hi.
MIMI
Ah,
Kizer. My number-one fan. Come on in and let me make you something hot and
brown.
KIZER
Um…
sure.
MIMI
saunters into the café. RAY-EL and KIZER watch her go. They sit a while in
silence, RAY-EL smoking his pipe, KIZER studying the blue mold. KIZER slaps the
table.
Well!
Time for that latte.
RAY-EL
Enjoy.
SOUND:
A motorcycle pulls into the parking lot; the motor coughs as the ignition is
switched off.
FIERCE
enters right in cycling leathers, carrying his helmet. He’s 16, with a
clean-cut face, but his buzz-cut hair is dyed in leopard spots, and he takes
off his jacket to reveal plentiful tattoos on his arms.
FIERCE
Ray-el,
mighty moon god. How are you?
RAY-EL
Fierce,
purveyor of all that rocks. How’s the band?
FIERCE
Damn
frustrating. I’m itching to line up a release party for this new CD, but the
studio guy is crawling all over the mix-down like a snail in heat. He’s got
this freaky extraterrestrial sense of hearing, and he doesn’t seem to realize
that the only creatures who hear the things that he hears are three Shih Tzus
who live in Mishawaka, Indiana. I was going to say “Lhasa apso,” by the way,
but it’s much more fun to say “Shih Tzu.”
RAY-EL
And
“Mishawaka.”
FIERCE
Al-too-na.
RAY-EL
Ypsilanti.
FIERCE
Then
there’s my drummer, Hagar. Half-hour late to rehearsal again. He’s tweaking on
some sort of illicit substance, and I refuse to end up on one of those “Behind
the Music” documentaries.
(Voiceover
voice.)
“But
with success came wild parties, drugs and venereal diseases with names that are
very difficult to spell – followed by a tragic van crash, or possibly a plane
crash, and the horrible Cobain-style suicide of lead singer Fierce McPherson.”
RAY-EL
Cobain
again? Are you ever gonna ever get over that?
FIERCE
So
fucking cliché. That bastard.
RAY-EL
And
you were, what? Four years old at the time?
FIERCE
Yes!
And I haven’t forgiven Yoko Ono, either. That bitch.
RAY-EL
Wow.
A pre-natal grudge. So how many CDs is this?
FIERCE
Seven.
RAY-EL
And
you’re how old now?
FIERCE
Sixteen.
RAY-EL
You
disgust me.
FIERCE
It’s
a tough business, Ray. If you don’t get something going by eighteen, you’re
roadkill. So how’s your little cottage industry?
RAY-EL
Three
sales this week. Getting close to October.
FIERCE
Shit
yeah! You must rake in October.
RAY-EL
(Somberly.)
Yeah.
FIERCE
What’s
the matter, moon-god?
RAY-EL
I
didn’t really envision this kind of… career. And look at you! Fuckin’
latter-day Mozart. You’ve got focus – you don’t let anything get in your way.
FIERCE
Yeah.
Tell that to Allison.
RAY-EL
(Pushes
mold toward him.)
Tell
her yourself.
FIERCE
No
shit!
(Studies
it.)
Yeah.
That little gap, right there. Used to get my tongue-stud caught in there.
Where’s she getting her… accessories?
RAY-EL
(Takes
it from him and points.)
First
canine. Here and… here.
FIERCE
Dangerous
stuff.
RAY-EL
Yeah.
If I were you, I’d stay away from any makeup sex.
FIERCE
Not
likely.
ALLISON
storms out from café and addresses Ray-el, without looking at Fierce.
ALLISON
Ray!
What the fuck are you doing? You want to charge admission?
FIERCE
Hi,
Allison.
ALLISON
(To
Ray-el.)
Just
put it in your case and keep it there. Jesus!
(Storms
back in.)
RAY-EL
(Putting
mold into case.)
Does
she always do that?
FIERCE
What?
RAY-EL
Act
like you’re not there.
FIERCE
Yeah.
It’s like she’s got this little V-chip that knocks me right off the screen.
It’s kinda spooky. I’m afraid she’s gonna short out her circuits.
RAY-EL
Nothing
says “I love you” like mental disease.
(Takes
the mold back out and uses it like a puppet, speaking in a high-pitched voice,
to Fierce.)
Asshole!
FIERCE
Thanks.
I feel much better. Well! I came here for coffee.
(Heads
for the door.)
RAY-EL
You
might want to wear a cup!
FIERCE
(Peers
inside.)
It’s
okay. I think she’s in the bathroom.
FIERCE
goes in. KIZER comes back out, carrying a latte.
KIZER
Fierce!
Whazzup?
FIERCE
Not
much. Don’t spill the latte.
KIZER
Never!
KIZER
proceeds to the table with a parfait-style latte – a tall glass with
well-defined stripes of, from top to bottom, milk foam, espresso and milk. He
places it on the table and stands back to admire it.
RAY-EL
You
gonna drink that thing or have sex with it?
KIZER
Yeah!
I wish. Isn’t it gorgeous? Like a goddamn painting. And when you drink it, the
espresso and the milk and the foam mix together in your mouth, and…
RAY-EL
Stop!
Stop! You’ve told me this a hundred and sixty three times.
KIZER
If
that were not such a specific number, I might think you were exaggerating. But
as you must realize, my friend, real passion never dies.
RAY-EL
whips out his umbrella and holds the pointed end to the latte, like he’s
holding a knife to someone’s throat.
RAY-EL
Shut
up and drink, or the beverage gets it.
KIZER
You
wouldn’t dare!
RAY-EL
Try
me.
KIZER
Okay,
okay. Put down the umbrella. I’ll be good.
RAY-EL takes away the umbrella. KIZER takes a swallow and mixes it around in his mouth, looking like he’s going to die from ecstasy. Then he sets it down and takes off at a run, screaming. He exits right, seems to run around the entire building, screaming the whole way, and reappears left. Then he sits down, calmly crosses his legs, takes another swallow, and lets out a contented sigh.
RAY-EL
You
are so weird.
KIZER
Yeah.
RAY-EL
puffs on his pipe, as KIZER continues to savor his latte.
RAY-EL
You
ever take time to notice the woman behind these lattes?
KIZER
She
has the hands of a safecracker. Do you realize she pours these things freehand?
RAY-EL
And
she’s gorgeous.
KIZER
Most
people have to use the back of a spoon to slow down the espresso. And even
then…
RAY-EL
And
she’s gorgeous.
KIZER
No
one gets a line that straight.
RAY-EL
And
she’s gorgeous.
KIZER
(Takes
a long drink.)
What’s
your point?
RAY-EL
She
likes you.
KIZER
Nah!
Get straight.
RAY-EL
I
have never seen her saunter into the café for anybody else.
KIZER
I’m
a good tipper.
RAY-EL
(Mae
West.)
“Let
me make you something hot and brown.”
KIZER
No
thanks.
RAY-EL
Oh,
yeah – go for the obvious joke. Cut the Shih Tzu, pal. Woman gave me signals
like that, I’d be on it like cream cheese on a bagel.
KIZER
You’re
“on it” twenty-four seven. You slut.
RAY-EL
Look
at me. Look at me! If a woman should be sending weak signals, or is not
experienced at sending signals, or is sending signals in a foreign language, do
you think I am in a position to take the chance of missing them? However. We
are not talking about me, and we are not talking weak signals. She wants you.
What are you afraid of?
KIZER
I
don’t have much, Ray-el. But I have this one simple thing that I truly enjoy.
Why would I want to fuck that up? I go out with Mimi, we break up, I start
getting a little extra saliva in my lattes.
RAY-EL
The
same saliva you would currently die to get a taste of.
KIZER
It’s
not the same saliva!
RAY-EL
Wait
a minute. Let me get this straight. Do you mean to say that Mimi, our beautiful
safecracking goddess, is capable of producing two distinctly different forms of
saliva – one for kissing, and one for… flavored shots ?
KIZER
Enough
already! And don’t talk so loud. I give up.
RAY-EL
That
is precisely your problem – giving up. Think about it this way: the single most
boring feature in topography is a plateau. What you need, boy-o, is to find a
nice scary cliff and start climbing. If you get nervous, just imagine the view
once you get to the top. You miss a handhold and fall, well you’ve got a good
story for the folks at the hospital.
FIERCE
(Burst
through the door with a cup of coffee.)
I’m
with Moon God. Ask her the fuck out.
KIZER
How
do you even know what we’re talking about?
FIERCE
When
you’re in a rock band, you learn how to read lips.
KIZER
Jesus!
I’m on an episode of the Partridge Family.
RAY-EL
Am
I the only one who thought that Mama Partridge was the real hottie on that
show?
(Silence.)
Question
answered.
HONCHO
dashes outside, jumps onto a chair with his feet on the seat, and lights a
cigarette.
HONCHO
Rayrayray!
Ray! You shoulda seen it. Mimi was cutting bagels with that tube thing? You
know, with the little triangular guillotine inside? Allison walks by, spills a
hot mocha all over Mimi’s shirt right when she’s preparing to execute a
poppyseed, Mimi accidentally slips her hand into the tube, falls down on top of
the thing and wham! Cuts off her whole hand. Floppin’ around on the floor like
a fish with five fins. Mimi sees her own hand, making that Vulcan “live long
and prosper” sign at her, and she passes out. She’s in there right now, lying
in a pool of blood that looks exactly like Andy Warhol’s head.
RAY-EL
So
now you’re killing off the employees?
HONCHO
She’s
beautiful, Ray. She’s all white now, like a sexy dying goth girl. With one
hand. You’d like her.
RAY-EL
I
am not a goth! I’m a male geisha.
KIZER
Sometimes,
Ray, I feel like I just don’t know you anymore.
GRADY,
the café manager, enters right. She’s 32, the earthmother Midwest type, but has
taken on small coffeehouse affectations: a small tattoo, a piercing above one
eyebrow.
GRADY
Hey,
laddies.
BOYS
(In
schoolboy unison.)
Hi
Grady!
GRADY
What’s
the news?
RAY-EL
Kizer
ran around the block in search of his balls, I have Allison’s mouth in this
case, and Mimi cut off her…
(To
HONCHO.)
…left hand?
HONCHO
(Visualizes
left vs. right.)
Yeah.
Left.
GRADY
Well!
Anatomical parts just flyin’ around like tennis balls.
ALLISON
comes out, looking anxious.
ALLISON
Grady!
Where do we keep the first aid kit? Mimi cut her finger on the bagel… thing.
GRADY
Oh!
Shit. It’s in the office. I’ll show you.
GRADY and ALLISON rush inside. RAY-EL and KIZER stare at HONCHO.
HONCHO
It’s
not uncommon for a great artist to take his inspiration from real-life
incidents.
SCENE
TWO
That night. MIMI is cleaning
up, pulling chairs inside. KIZER sits at the table, sipping coffee from a
cardboard cup.
MIMI
All
right, Bubba. I gotta take your chair.
KIZER
Oh.
Sure.
(Stands,
watching her work.)
How’s
your finger?
MIMI
(Holds
up bandaged finger.)
Just
a knick. Damn bagels.
KIZER
You
should’ve heard Honcho’s version.
MIMI
How
many limbs did I lose?
KIZER
Just
a hand.
MIMI
How
sweet! So what keeps you around so late?
KIZER
I’ve
got tomorrow off. Plus, I’ve had four lattes. Have I told you how…
MIMI
(Tired
of the subject.)
Yes.
You have.
KIZER
Sorry.
I know I…
MIMI
Yes.
You do. It’s all right. It’s nice to be… appreciated.
KIZER
looks at her, as if to say something more, but doesn’t.
MIMI
(Frustrated.)
Well.
I gotta finish.
MIMI
heads inside with a chair. KIZER finishes his coffee, makes to leave his cup on
the table, then crumples it up and slips it into his pocket. He exits left.
MIMI comes back out, sees him in the distance and speaks, sadly, to herself.
Good
night, Kizer.
SCENE THREE
A week later, morning. KIZER
enters right, buys a newspaper, sits at the table and flips it open. A few
seconds later, ALLISON comes out from the café.
ALLISON
Kizer!
It is you. What are you doing here so
early?
KIZER
Hi.
I had a dentist appointment. I figured I would stretch it into lunch.
ALLISON
Does
it hurt?
KIZER
No.
Just a checkup. No cavities.
ALLISON
Of
course.
KIZER
I’m
kind of big on the flossing thing.
ALLISON
Good
to know.
(Sits
down and lights a cigarette.)
Welcome
to the morning shift. Three hours of commuter madness followed by three hours
of nothin’. I think I prefer the madness. Although the nothin’ does give me
time for smokin’. God I love smokin’. God I love sayin’ the word “smokin’.”
KIZER
I’ve
been trying to figure out the whole smoking thing. Taken down to the roots,
smoking is breathing, illustrated. Perhaps it’s a reassurance to the smoker
that he or she is actually alive.
ALLISON
You’re
funny.
KIZER
Funny
amusing, or funny strange?
ALLISON
Yes.
You know what else is funny? I have no idea what you do for a living.
KIZER
Wholesale
automotive parts. Fancy way of saying “delivery boy.” Zipping around from one
auto shop to the next. People with broken cars, desperate to get ‘em back.
ALLISON
People
on the way to work, desperate for cappuccinos.
KIZER
To
everyone their addictions.
ALLISON
No
reason for ‘em to be such assholes.
KIZER
Yeah.
(Looks
out to parking lot.)
Speaking
of the automotive trade, that’s a cherry piece you got there.
ALLISON
Thanks.
KIZER
What
year is that?
ALLISON
Well
duh! This year. It’s a 350 – brand new model. You didn’t know that?
KIZER
I
tend to deal with older models. My boss kinda specializes in classic autos.
ALLISON
That’s
cool. I’ll bet you see some nice ones.
KIZER
This
morning, a ’32 Ford Roadster.
ALLISON
No
shit! Are they rodding it out?
KIZER
More
of a reconstruction. They found the chassis in some guy’s back yard, under
about fifty years of blackberry vines. They’re totally redoing the body and
most of the engine, and the parts have to be hand-crafted, exactly to spec.
Final price tag: a hundred and sixty thousand dollars.
ALLISON
Fuck.
Must be some filthy rich buyer.
KIZER
Aha!
That is the cherry on the sundae. The buyer is Eric Clapton.
ALLISON
No!
You’re shittin’ me.
KIZER
Nope.
Clapton’s a big-time collector. The guy who’s building it out has this
celebrity clientele: Jay Leno, Reggie Jackson, half a dozen football players.
And get this: after the Roadster is done, Mister Clapton will be keeping it in
a garage in L.A. so he’ll have something nice to drive during the two or three
weeks each year that he’s on the West Coast.
ALLISON
(Incredulous,
slaps her forehead on the beats.)
Why is - Eric - Clapton - leading - my - life!?
KIZER
You’re not doing all that bad.
(Looks
at car.)
I
see you got that new bronze paint.
ALLISON
Yeah.
Sometimes it’s like driving around in a life-size NASCAR trophy.
KIZER
I
would gladly accept that trophy. Hey, um, tell me to shut up if this is too
personal, but how can you afford something like that? Are the tips that good?
ALLISON
Depends
on the decolletage.
KIZER
The…
what?
ALLISON
Cleavage!
KIZER
Really.
ALLISON
Yep.
Last February, I conducted a little experiment. I picked four blouses, ranging
from Mary Poppins to Madonna, and wore them on consecutive Tuesday night
shifts. As the neckline plunged, the tips escalated. On the final week, as the
areolae began to peek out from their little bustier balconies, I made precisely
five times the tips as my first week. One guy dropped in a twenty.
KIZER
Wow.
Isn’t that a little creepy?
ALLISON
There’s
no real expectation. It’s all power and ego. Especially the middle-age guys;
they seem to get off on being ridiculously generous – especially if there’s a
lot of titflesh in the area, and especially if they’re out with their buddies.
Who am I to get in the way of the old boys’ club?
KIZER
Especially
if it gets you that car.
ALLISON
That
and my Uncle John, who owns a car dealership.
KIZER
Aha!
ALLISON
Hey.
Do you like cookies?
KIZER
Who
doesn’t like cookies?
ALLISON
Girl
Scout cookies?
KIZER
No!
ALLISON
I’ll
be right back.
She
goes into the café and returns with a handtruck stacked with 20-30 boxes of
Girl Scout cookies.
KIZER
Oh
my God! You knocked over a Girl Scout troop! Did they put up a fight?
ALLISON
Hardly.
I’m selling these for my sister. Lazy little bitch. And she knows how good I
am. She was top salesgirl in her troop last year, and it was all me!
KIZER
Do
you get a commission?
ALLISON
For
every ten boxes, I get a box of thin mints.
KIZER
So!
You’re a thin mint woman.
ALLISON
If
I had sex and thin mints at the same time, I would explode!
KIZER
Nice!
(Finds
a box and pulls it out.)
But
do they compare to lemon pastry cremes?
(Stands
and holds the box aloft, breaking into the character of a carnival barker.)
Get
your luscious lemon pastry cremes! More refreshing than a spring breeze. And
sassy spicy Samoas, covered in a jacket of tangy, chewy coconut. Peanut butter
patties! Classic shortbread. Get your dee-licious Girl Scout cookies right
cheer!
(Sits
down, enjoying his performance.)
ALLISON
what the hell was that all about?
KIZER
Oh.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to go all Robin Williams on you. When I was six years old, I
used to go to the grocery store to help my sister sell cookies. But she and her
troopmates were too shy. They were just sitting their at the table, waiting for
people to flock in and hand over their money. But I was six – what the hell
does a six-year-old care about public image? So I grabbed a couple boxes and
started barking out this spiel. Sales went through the roof. Who could resist a
six-year-old with a sales pitch?
(Suddenly
wistful.)
I
don’t think my sister ever loved me more.
ALLISON
(Noticing.)
Kizer?
You want a latte? I gotta get back to work.
KIZER
No,
no. That’s okay. I don’t usually, um…
ALLISON
I’ve
been kinda… curious about that. Is there a reason you never order lattes from
me?
KIZER
Do
you really want to know?
ALLISON
Yeah.
KIZER
Okay.
I’ll show you. But only if you give me a ride in that bronze car.
ALLISON
Only
if you buy a box of luscious lemon pastry cremes.
KIZER
You
kiddin’ me? I’ll take three.
They
stand. He follows her inside.
First,
we’re gonna need a large spoon with a solid back.
SCENE FOUR
Two
months later, morning. GRADY and MIMI sit at the table. GRADY is smoking a
cigarette.
GRADY
I
think you’re just too much, honey. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror?
You’re like freakin’ Carmen!
MIMI
Well
so what? Why should it matter to men when it doesn’t matter to me?
GRADY
When
it comes down to it, what men want, above all, is to be comfortable. So they
gravitate toward someone at their own level. They’re afraid, if they hook up
with someone too far above them, they’ll spend the rest of their lives swimming
upstream.
MIMI
You
know who does ask me out? Complete
and utter losers.
GRADY
That’s
because they have absolutely nothing to lose. And because they’re oblivious,
which is precisely what makes them losers. But you gotta give ‘em credit for
trying.
MIMI
Well,
one of these days, I might just say yes, Grady. Because a woman has needs.
GRADY
(Bursts
out laughing.)
I’m
sorry, Mimi. Somehow that phrase, coming out of your mouth…
MIMI
Oh!
So now I’m virginal, too.
GRADY
Like
Minnie Mouse talking about her G-spot.
MIMI
Oh!
GRADY
Sorry,
sorry. But desperation is what the losers are counting on. I’ve seen some
couples walking out of here… Shew!
MIMI
Long
as there’s a penis attached.
GRADY
Stop
that!
MIMI
No!
I’m going to keep talking filthy till you treat me like a sistah! Multiple
orgasm! Fellatio! Booty call! Wanker!
(Pause.
She turns serious again.)
So
what do I do, Grady?
GRADY
You
know what, Meems? The most beautiful thing about you is that you never make a
big deal about being beautiful. You’re also the best goddamn barista I’ve ever
had. So do me a favor and don’t change a thing. You are a diamond in a world of
semi-precious stones, and you will just have to deal with that. Perhaps someday
a big macho sapphire will walk through the door, shoulders out to there, pecs
to die for, and a rock hard ass.
(Sighs.)
And
he will be up to the particular challenge that you represent. And maybe he’ll
even have some of the same problems you have, with scaring people off. But if
you don’t wait for him, you’re cheating yourself.
ALLISON
rushes in right and heads for the door.
Ten
minutes late, young lady!
ALLISON
turns and hisses, baring her new vampire fangs, extending her hand in a claw.
She enters the café.
Freak.
MIMI
Yeah.
Speaking of the enemy.
GRADY
Aha!
I got you pegged, sistah. It’s Kizer, isn’t it?
MIMI
Maybe.
GRADY
Is
that not precisely the individual with whom Allison is currently… associating?
MIMI
Screwing.
GRADY
Screwing?
MIMI
(Points
a warning finger.)
Not
a word! It is not Allison’s fault at
all. On the other hand – what the fuck?
GRADY
Ah.
Grady’s hypothesis in classic operation. Where Mimi is gorgeous, Allison is
cute. And blue-collar, and a little trashy. No rocket scientist – or psych
student.
MIMI
Gah!
GRADY
A
very comfortable match for Kizer. She’s probably great in the sack, too.
MIMI
Whose
side are you on?
GRADY
I’m
sorry – did I say that out loud? Listen, hon. I gotta do some roasting. You’re
on at two, right?
MIMI
Yeah.
GRADY
goes inside, but leaves her cigarettes and lighter on the table. MIMI shakes
out a cigarette and lights it, giving it a tentative puff. KIZER enters right,
holding an acoustic guitar.
KIZER
What
the hell do you think you’re doing?
MIMI
(Coughs.)
God!
Busted on my first drag. Do you work for my mother?
KIZER
Yes.
We’re in group therapy together.
MIMI
Very
funny. What’s with the axe?
KIZER
Axe?
MIMI
If
you’re gonna be a rock star, you had better learn the lingo, Bubba. A guitar –
or any other hand-held instrument – is commonly referred to as an “axe.”
KIZER
Oh!
Okay. Yeah – I’m meeting Fierce for a lesson. Then, in twenty years, when I’m
good enough, I’ll try out for his band.
MIMI
I
don’t know if you’d want to. As a bandleader, he’s pretty…
KIZER
Dictatorial?
MIMI
Exactly.
So where did you obtain your “axe.”
KIZER
Garage
sale. It’s a beater, but I didn’t want to buy something nice until I got some
talent. Wanna hear a song?
MIMI
Sure.
KIZER
Okay.
Here goes.
He
spends a long time getting into a rocker pose, carefully places his fingers in
D minor, then draws out a single chord, pauses and rocks out in exaggerated
fashion, remaining in that one, single chord. (Have fun with it.)
Thank
you!
MIMI
Stupendous!
What do you call it?
KIZER
Spasm
in D minor.
(Suddenly
serious.)
Seriously,
Mimi, could you please put that thing out? You don’t want to mess with that
shit.
MIMI
(Takes
a luxurious drag.)
Am
I being a bad girl, Kizer? Don’t you like bad girls?
KIZER
Sure
I do.
(Nervous
pause.)
I’d
better visit my girlfriend.
He
enters the café, greeting Allison with “Dahling!” MIMI stubs out her cigarette
like she’s killing a small animal. She smacks her lips and reaches into her
purse for a mint. HONCHO enters left on his skateboard, does some kind of trick
and jumps off.
HONCHO
Meemster!
MIMI
Honcho!
What gives?
HONCHO
You
wanna know? Do you?
MIMI
(Genuinely
happy for the distraction.)
Go
ahead, Honch. Tell me about biting the big one.
HONCHO
It
was so messed up! So I’m at the new library on Seventh, right?
MIMI
Correct!
HONCHO
You
know that long, long railing at the entrance, goes all the way down the front
steps? You’re like totally not supposed to grind ‘it, because they’ve like
posted a sniper at the entrance and told him to shoot skateboarders on sight?
MIMI
So
you totally did it anyway.
HONCHO
Of
course! I get up some steam, flip it up, hit my board square and I am busting all
the way down, I’m like ten feet from the end when I like totally bail. No
biggie – I’m just a big bag of bones, anyway, I’ll be okay, flop on the
sidewalk. pick up a few rashies, but you know how it was supposed to rain
today?
MIMI
Yuh-huh.
HONCHO
So like,
of all people, the mayor, Susan Schmalwitz? She’s coming up the steps at that
precise moment, God knows why, and she’s got an umbrella tucked under her arm.
And the tip is pointing up.
MIMI
And
you fell on the tip, and it stabbed you right through the… spleen!
HONCHO
No!
Spleen – nice touch. I would have, but I land on one foot and like totally
Jackie Chan spin away, miss the umbrella tip by a millimeter, congratulate the
mayor on winning the vote on the new open-space zoning regulations – but now I’m
like totally off-balance, and they’ve got those wrought-iron fences around the
hedges, with the sharp nasty devil-spikes on top?
MIMI
So
you landed on one of those and it pierced you right through the neck!
HONCHO
No!
It would have, but just then I notice a guy-wire from this large oak tree right
next to the hedges. I grab it with my left hand and loop around three times
like I’m all Cirque de Soleil? Then I fly upward into a triple tuck with a
quarter twist, and then, on my way earthward, what should I see but my very own
skateboard, rolling directly beneath me, and I nail the landing, compiling a
composite score of nine-point-eight-five from a group of homeless people
walking down the sidewalk with those little cardboard signs. Dude! It was like
the best trick ever!
Silence.
MIMI looks confused, HONCHO ecstatic.
MIMI
But…
HONCHO
Then
I rolled off the curb and a bus hit me. Just pancaked. That was so messed up.
So now I’m roadkill. I’m like that big lump of former dog on the roadside, big
ol’ meat frisbee.
MIMI
(Laughing.)
Oh
God! I love you, Honcho.
HONCHO
(Confused.)
I
like you too, Meemsters. You seen Ray-el?
MIMI
No.
It’s weird. He’s usually here all day.
HONCHO
Okay.
I gotta find him. He’s got something for me.
MIMI
Fangs?
HONCHO
Oh!
No. I wouldn’t want people to think I’m weird.
HONCHO
heads inside, yelling, “Dude!” RAY-EL enters right in blue jeans, a flannel
shirt, and no makeup. He stops behind the column, out of sight from the table,
pulls out a cell phone and punches a number. MIMI’s phone rings; she pulls it
out of her purse, checks the caller ID, and answers.
MIMI
Ray-el? We were just talking about you!
RAY-EL
Yeah.
Hi Mimi.
MIMI
What’s
up? You sound funny. Like, an echo.
RAY-EL
That’s
because I’m twenty feet away.
MIMI
Where?
RAY-EL
Don’t
look! Listen, this is really hard to explain, but I need your help. Is Honcho
in the café?
MIMI
Yeah.
You want me to get him?
RAY-EL
No!
No. I can’t be seen around the café, and I don’t want anyone but you and Honcho
to know I’m here. Listen. You know the newspaper box on the other side of the
column? The Chronicle? I’m going to take the top newspaper, write a note on the
crossword puzzle, next to the comics, then put ithe paper back in the box, on
top. I’ll leave a quarter on the machine. What I need is for you to take that
newspaper, give it to Honcho, and get him to look at the crossword puzzle. But
no one else can see it, okay? Including you. I’ll give you a single ring on
your cell phone when I’m clear.
MIMI
Have
you been watching Mission Impossible?
RAY-EL
Thanks,
Mimi. You’re a goddess. Half-price fang job, any time you want.
RAY-EL
hangs up before she can say anything. MIMI looks at the phone and folds it up.
MIMI
Best
offer I’ve had all month.
RAY-EL
opens the box, flips through the paper, scratches a one-word note, puts the
paper back and closes the door. He leaves a quarter on top and exits right. A
few seconds later, MIMI’s phone emits a single ring. She heads for the box, but
a MAN enters right and beats her to it.
I’m
sorry. Could I get that one on top?
MAN
(Taken
aback, but pleased at the attractive interruption.)
Any
special reason?
MIMI
A…
friend of mine likes to start a crossword puzzle, then leave it here so I can
finish it. It’s a little game we play.
MAN
But
how do you know it’s the one on top?
MIMI
Oh!
Well, I… work in the café there? And he gives me a call when it’s ready. And
look! He left me a quarter.
She
puts in the quarter, pulls out the paper and crinkles it open to the crossword.
Without looking at it herself, she shows it to the MAN.
MAN
Amazing.
But why doesn’t he just bring it to you in the café?
MIMI
(Straining.)
Well…
Just between you and me? He used to be married to my manager? And, it’s kind of
a restraining order situation.
MAN
Ah.
Well – be careful with that.
MIMI
Thanks.
MIMI
returns to the table, happy to be done with her fibbing. MAN buys a paper,
glances back at Mimi, and exits right. KIZER and HONCHO come out from the café,
laughing.
HONCHO
That
is so tight!
KIZER
Yeah,
I couldn’t really believe it myself. Are eggs ever supposed to be purple?
MIMI
Hey,
Honcho?
HONCHO
(To
Kizer.)
Only
on Easter!
MIMI
Honch?
HONCHO
Meemarilla!
What’s up?
MIMI
(Glancing
nervously at KIZER.)
Have
you, um, looked at the crossword puzzle today?
HONCHO
Why
would I look at a crossword puzzle?
MIMI
(Hands
him the section.)
Well,
they have themes, you know? And today it’s all about extreme sports.
(Quickly
to KIZER, trying to distract him.)
So
when is Fierce giving you your lesson?
KIZER
Oh,
not till later.
HONCHO
reads the comics, with the crossword facing the audience.
MIMI
Are
you gonna learn power chords?
KIZER
Oh.
What’s that?
MIMI
They’re
sort of shortcut ways to finger the chords. Saves a lot of work.
HONCHO
Hah!
That Garfield – gets me every time.
KIZER
(To
Mimi.)
Did
you used to play?
MIMI
Had
a guitarist boyfriend.
KIZER
Well!
That’s one way to learn.
MIMI
I
think he just taught me chords as an excuse to, you know, get closer.
KIZER
Hmm.
I’ll have to remember that.
MIMI
Bad
boy!
HONCHO
finally flips the page, sees the note and jumps to his feet.
HONCHO
Shit!
I gotta go.
Grabs
board and rolls off, left.
KIZER
What
the hell.
MIMI
Honcho!
Watch out!
SOUND:
Horn, screeching brakes, a thump and clatter.
KIZER
Oh
shit! Mimi – call 911.
KIZER
races left to check out the accident. As the stage goes dark, Mimi makes the
call. ALLISON and GRADY come out from café to check out the hubbub.
SOUND:
911 call on P.A.
911
Emergency
services. Your address, please?
MIMI
Plaza
Square shopping center, Stevens Creek and Lawrence, in the parking lot. My
friend’s been hit.
911
Okay,
we’ll have an ambulance right there. Can you stay on the line?
MIMI
Yes,
yes. Hurry!
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