Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Cafe Phryque: The Play So Far


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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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