The Ram Play
"Live the Life"
The character Jim lives in 68 Pleasant Street, Town of Stamborough,
Index County, State of New Leeds, zip code 01876, USA.
Pleasant Street is a couple of roads away off Route 124.
The 124th anniversary of Stamborough!
still wearing ASICS Kayano-15s go in front of jim at a ' they skippity pace. "good morning,
they greet jim, smile and jog on.

I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.

****
Live the Life
written by Ramuel M. Raagas
from March to April 2009

This play is set in the year of our Good Lord 2000, in the town of Stamborough est. 1876.

"living the day at its best"
-Ray Cole

People (Dramatis Personae):
Bianca and Greg Whalen
Sergeant Scott Miller (police officer)
Jim Walker
Mark the adulterer
Attorney Joseph Teague
Camila Libel Orangewood, PGY3/MD the therapist
Timothy the supervisor

Props:
Buddy Holly-type of Eyeglasses for Greg Whalen;
Two pairs of ASICS shoes (Kayano-15's) for Bianca and Greg;
Three North Face Jackets

The Town of Stamborough,
in Index County

Act One. Scene One.

[Jim is at home with his pet Eagle, Edgar. Before Jim speaks, Edgar is played by an actor with an eagle mask (and, if managed by stage costumes, flapping wings).]

7 p.m.
Jim with a typewriter. Jim bangs at his non-electronic typewritter, even manually yanking the handle for the carriage return.

Jim [to the audience]: Good evening, everyone.
I've brewed a pot of coffee.
Would y'all like some?

Would you like some, Edgar?
[Edgar squawks, nods and flaps his eagle wings.]

I watched the news on the International News Network.
I have been wrapping up a letter to the editor of our Stamborough Tribune.

I started off with five pages. I have condensed most of it into two.

What should we people of Stamborough do?

[The doorbell rings.]
Ellen: Good evening, sir.
How are things going with you?

Jim: Dear neighbour, it's great to have you here?
Would you like some coffee?

Ellen: No thanks I'm fine. I'm Ellen, sir. I'm looking for Mr. Jim Walker.

Jim: I'm Jim Walker. What can I do for you tonight?

Ellen: Mr. Walker, I'm from our United States Census Bureau.

Jim: Oh, a fed!

Ellen. Not yet, I hope to be, eventually. A temp. I just need to enumerate the residents in this house you're staying in.

Ellen: This is 68 Pleasant Street, Town of Stamborough, Index County,
State of New Leeds, zip code 01876, is it not, Mr. Walker?

Jim: Yes, ma'am this is Stamborough, USA, e-stablished 1876.

Ellen: (to herself and her hand-held computer unit which she pokes a plastic probe onto--- onto its liquid-crystal display screen, that is) Address confirmed.

[Ellen and Jim pantomime an information exchange. Ellen wears a Hillary Rodham Clinton kind of pantsuit. Ellen holds a hand-held computerized unit. Jim wears silk pajamas and synthetic rabbit-faced indoor slippers.]

[Ellen relieves her torso of her lightweight laptop.]

Jim: Here, let me take that for you, ma'am.

Ellen: This is a nice home you have inherited.

Ellen: Thank you, Mr. Walker, and a have a good one!

Jim: I hope to see you again.

Ellen: How would that be possible?

Jim: We could increase the population of this residential unit on your list.

[Ellen smirks. She turns her back.
Jim opens the door for Ellen. He smiles close-lipped. Before Ellen goes through the door, she plugs on the left side of her iPod earphones, and pops a pack of Dentyne gum out of her right pocket. Ellen helps herself to a piece of Dentyne without offering one to Jim.]

Jim: [when Ellen has just gone out of the door]
And don't forget to bring your DoubleMint twin, too, next time around!

[Ellen turns just her head.]

Ellen: It's Dentyne, sir. [She then takes long and quick steps away.] [A beat.] (muttering) Moron.

[Jim leaves the door open for a while. He watches her much as he watches sunsets. He holds his right brow with his index finger, the three non-thumb finger leading to and including the pinky are glued to each other.
Before he closes the door, he breathes in, as if savoring a sea-breeze.]

Jim: Ah, The Scent of a Woman!

Edgar the Eagle: Descent of a woman, as in.... as in she descends down our little hill on Pleasant Street.

[Jim moves from the typewriter desk to his old, upright piano.]

Jim: The letter's done, with the census taker being my muse. I will drop my envelope presently at the corner postal drop box.

[Jim kicks off his fuzzy synthetic rabbit-faced sandals.]

With the census taker
being my muse,
I give my take on our
Stamborough news.

Jim: Here's my piece,
dear tribune of our Stamborough.
Swift as Hermes, and off I go!
3 a.m.

Lights go out.

Act One. Scene Two.

The sun rises above the pond of Cacahuatl.
Two joggers (Bianca and Greg) wearing ASICS Kayano-15s go at a skippity pace from stage left to right.

Bianca: The weather's warmed up, since we've passed by here last week.
The sun is lovely, and it isn't even spring yet.

Greg: Bianca dear, I agree with you under this most agreeable weather.

Bianca: Across Cacahuatl lake, I see even more of our neighbours.

Greg: Is that Winston, with his German Shepherd Ludendorff?

Bianca: Yes, dear Greg. I do recognize him by his orange knit cap.

Greg: I'm glad he's way over there.

Bianca: Why, my dear?
Greg: He reeks.

[Bianca swings her glossed sphinctered lips to the right, wrinkling her cheek.]

Bianca: I saw Winston take Ludendorff to Brina's Pet Care Salon just this Wednesday.

Greg: Winston grooms Lundendorff more than he grooms himself.

Bianca: It has not been easy for him since his better half left our world.

Greg: You get in the shower, and turn it on. Irish Spring is on sale at Tom's Convenience this week. A six-pack for just two dollars and twenty-nine cents.

Bianca: That would be good for our own purposes had you not hoarded a whole cart of Irish Spring soaps last month.

Bianca: Anyway, may HER soul rest in peace.

Greg: She made wonderful smores bars, and could take down a turkey better than I could.

Bianca: We all had a wonderful Thanksgiving with Janice and Winston back in '97.

Greg: A crowning moment for a fulfilling life.

Bianca: Amy and Chester are doing great in college.

Greg: Amy in New Jersey, and Chester in Drexel.

Bianca: Our Peter still fondly remembers Amy getting him through his calculus mid-terms.

[Fred walks towards them from the other side of the stage: stage-right, that is. Fred has his brown-and-black-spotted white beagle Snoopy with him.]

Fred: Bianca, Greg! Great to see you.

[Fred shakes Greg's hand, and then Bianca's.]

Fred: I love bringing this here Snoopy along for my stroll. He gives me a reason not to have to sprint.

Bianca: Oh, you did quite well back in `89, and that was a marathon.

Fred: Well, I ain't as good as I used to be.

Bianca: Oh, don't speak that way of yourself!

[Snoopy yelps.]

Greg: What's he found?

Fred: I thought you both spoke the same language.

[Bianca sneers.]

Fred: [swings a soft fist against Greg's shoulder] Just busting you there, pal.

[Snoopy continues to yelp.]

Fred: Oh, over there! [Friend points towards the auditorium wall, stage left]

[Greg and Bianca both do a heel-turn.]

Greg: It seems that Snoopy has found his Belle.

Fred: I always knew you spoke Canine-ese.

[Bianca and Greg snap a look back at Fred, both of them sneering at him.]

Fred: Who is that woman with that Belle?

[The three fix a stare towards the same point
stage left upon the auditorium wall.]

Bianca: Let's cut this out. She has covered her face with a scarf.

Greg: And it's not that chilly this morning.

Bianca: Well, the sun is not high above heads yet. It isn't even nine.

Greg: I recognize her gait. She hangs around our Salvation Army office.

Bianca: She wears a charming mottled coffee sweater.

Fred: Let's cut this out. We're making her feel uncomfortable. Let's go for a beagle. I mean, a bagel.

Greg: What do you think, honey [Greg holds, in a Patrick Swayze way, Bianca]?

Bianca: I believe we should keep burning last night's one-and-a-half bags of potato chips.

Greg: The movie was captivating.

Bianca: It was high time WE enjoyed our TV, instead of you, FRED and all your buddies troglodyting over our New Leeds Crusaders against, who were the other guys again?

Fred: We played the Minnesota Vikings last Sunday.

Bianca: You? Why were you on the field?

Greg: Don't worry, Bianca hon, we weren't touching the grass.

Bianca [slaps her Greg, loudly]: Stop it!

Greg: I have been abused! I have been abused! Call the hotline, Fred!

Bianca [choking her Greg's neck, while showing her teeth in a most enticing smile]: You monster! You troglodyte!

Fred: I refuse to referee this violence. This marital, undomesticated violence. Come, my Snoopy, and off we go. [Fred taps Greg on the same shoulder he had punched, and then exits stage left smiling, tugging Snoopy by the leash. Snoopy yelps. Fred waves at the two adults having a spat, with broadening right-hand strokes as he gets his distance away from them.]

Bianca tackles Greg. They roll onto the stage floor. They make noises like two kid brothers wrestling. Yarrrr. Yarrr! Their ASICS Kayano-15 shoe soles are exposed towards the audience. Bianca removes her brown suede-on-blue nylon/polyester North Face jacket and wraps it around her husband's head, continuing to wrestle with him.

Greg: [struggles to be heard through his jacket-wrapped head.] Waterboarding! Waterboarding! Call Senator John McCain!

Bianca: Not yet! I'll drag you to the water for that. [She tugs Greg downstage by the jacket she's wrapped around his head.]

Greg: [taps Bianca on her thigh two, then three times] Respect the tap! Respect the tap!

Bianca: There'll be far more than a tap of water down there [She keeps tugging him downstage.]!

Greg: [Still through the North Face jacket wrapped around his head] Respect the tap! [He grabs her right thigh, clad as both her legs with thick gray Nautica sweat pants. Greg's own hairy legs kicking around in the air, show below his nylon short pants.]

[Lights go out, except for spotlight on the couple. Or else, four stage hands, two on each flank of the stage, flash portable flood lights on the two people, the light would thus be focused, but not fixed.]

Greg: Yarrrrrrrrrrr!
[They both stop struggling.]
Bianca: Yarr mine, honey. [She kisses Greg on his stage-right cheek, his head still wrapped with her jacket. Greg tilts his head toward where she has kissed him. Bianca sits on the floor, hugging Greg in front of her. She presses her stage-left cheek affectionately against his stage-right jacket-wrapped cheek. She rocks him to sway his surrendered torso from side to side.]

[End of scene. Curtain closes. Lights go out.]
****
Act one. Scene three.
[same pond]
[Husker Du music plays, "It never changes the way I feel inside / Sit by the lake cand cry" although Cacahuatl is a pond.]
Two stage hands bring in a mirror as huge as they can manage.

Jim: [to our audience] Cacahuatl, Cacahuatl, my what a pond!
I had trekked around this until I got to Paytonville, where I landed a job. At Malachi's Packie and Delicatessen, we took more business in than any seven-eleven.

[Jim does a heel-turn, facing the mirror askance, so that our audience see both his reflection and a direct view of his profile.]

Although our store had no license for the whiskey,
our beer shoppers would now and then ask,
we have sold quite a bunch of beer balls, with matching taps!

[Silence.]

[Jim now faces the pond/mirror right on, like the queen in Snow White.]

O placid pond
that calms the tumult
of too many espresso doppios.
Milk, milk, milk I say!

Milky white ducks float on the water.

[Enter bit players in Donald Duck and Howard the Duck costumes, or else, huge plush dolls or figurines of them. Don and Howie enter, or come in as props, from stage right, bouncing in front of Jim, betwixt him in the mirror. Jim stops facing the center of the pond/mirror and follows Don and Howie with his eyes. After reaching stage left, they move upstage and stage-right, followed by Jim's eyes. Jim raises his eyebrows.]

Jim: The ducks float quietly by.

[Don and Howie quack loudly for more than a few seconds.

Stage hands drag a foot-high vinyl kiddie pool filled with water from stage-left. Don runs to it, cutting in front of Jim, and belly flops into it.

Stage hands wearing CVS workshirts and or lab/technician gowns mop whatever waters splashed.

Don and Howie drag the vinyl kiddie pool away stage left.

Jim gestures stunned expression.

Primus' "Jerry Was a Race Car Driver" plays.

A towel from an unseen stage-hand flies Donald's Way. Don catches it, and dries himself with it.]

[Exeunt Donaldus et Howardus.

The Two joggers (Bianca and Greg) reenter.

They are caked in playbox sand.
Greg's hair is in a mess. Bianca has her hair tied in a bun, whereas it had been freely hanging straight previously.

Bianca hands Greg a moist wipe she just now rips out of a foil sachet. Greg wipes his eyeglasses. Greg puts on back his spectacles.

Greg: Oh, hi there Jim!

Jim: Good morning, Greg and Bianca.

[Jim shakes Gregs hand, then shakes off the sand which transmits to his own hand.]

Jim: Building sandcastles by the pond, kids?

Greg: We were just castling, queen's side.

[ Bianca stares crossly at her Greg. ]

Jim: So, you're the rook, eh, Greg. Who's the King?

Bianca: Our Good Lord, Jim.

Greg: She is my better half.

Jim: Well, I'll just leave you two alone again.

Bianca: No, don't! Join us.

Jim: Would you have a Jordan Baker in store for me, or shall I just drag on your ticket, being a lowly kicker, a third of clubs, to you pair of aces!

Bianca: We're headed to the Giordano Bakery. Come with us.

Jim: Oh, the patiserrie!

Greg: Yes, they have even started their breakfast earlier, since...

Bianca: Last week.

Greg: Yes, we were there [said almost whispering, stroking the strands of her hair outside the bun and just above Bianca's ear; Bianca faces toward him as Greg does this.].

Bianca: [snapping a look back at Jim] Well, it's past ten now, so that shouldn't be an issue. [grabbing Jim and then her Greg's hand ] Come, my two little pigs!

Greg and Jim: Aye, aye, captian!
[All exit. Curtain closes, and/or stage lights shut.]

Greg and Jim [offstage]: Yarrrrr! [in crescendo]

Act One. Scene 4.

[Winston is about to walk right by the Newcomb Square News Stand.]

Ashley: Winston!

[Winston keeps walking with bad posture. i.e., cringing]

Ashley: Winston! [effecting a Doppler pitch change.]

[Winston turns his head.]

Ashley: Yes, you! Stamborough's only Winston. Although I forget your last name, sir.

[Winston angles both his feet slightly toward Ashley. Then, he straightens his standing up. He tugs at Ludendorff by the leash, who then yelps.]

Winston: Me? [ A beat. ] I'm Walder.

Ashley: Oh, yeah! You told me, but I had thought Walter, in my head.

[ Winston walks towards her news-stand counter. ]

Ashley: Walder! [correctly pronouncing his name ]
Walder as in Valor! Winston Walder.
Double-double-"U."

[ Winston starts to smile, at an angle betwixt Ashley and our audience. ]

Ashley: "U"-Squared.

[ Winston's smile heightens; he gives our audience a full profile of his face, before he smartly walks right up to the very candy-lip of the sales stand. ]

Winston: Where have I met you?

Ashley: Just here. You had bought our new scratch ticket this Thursday, a few of them in fact.

Winston: I had only won my hundred dollars back with those things.

Ashley: Thanks for the five you gave me.

Winston: You're more welcome than the morning train. [ A beat. ]
Of course, there isn't one today. It's Saturday, so our first train inbound comes at three, in the afternoon that is.

Ashley: You're very observant. Can I get you anything today?

Winston: Yes, your phone number.

[ Ashley lightly skips back toward the wall of magazines behind her, gesturing her hand over her chest in a manner covering the STAMBOROUGH spelled onto her Champion-brand sports sweater. ]

Ashley [ smiles, dimpling; her eyes widen ]: You Casanova.

Winston [drops Ludendorff's leash, the rubber sounds on our stage's wood]: And you're beyond compare.

[Lights go out. Curtains don't close. Stage hands switch the set for the next act with the curtains not shut, but lights go out, actress and actor still onstage; Ludendorff is escorted away.]

[Curtains may now close, so stage hands may properly accomplish setting up our Second Act. Ashley and Winston may now retreat.]

Act Two. Scene One.
[The stage is partitioned in two.
Elizabeth is dressed like Denise van Outen in Andy Williams' rendition of "Can't Take My Eyes Off You."]

Jim: May I please speak with Liz?
Liz: "This is she!"
I have had quite a lovely day today.
Jim: That's great to hear, honey.
Liz: So... what have you been doing, my busy bee?
Jim: Chores, for most of the day.
Liz: I picked up a couple of books today.
Jim: From the Library?
Liz: Yes, just down the street.
Jim: Oh, yeah. I thought you still had the ones from...
Liz: all the way from our Masthead Library, in Barnsmouth County. Yes, I'm done with "The Next Time, She'll be...
Jim: Don't say it!
Liz: Well, it's a very real book about real concerns.
Jim: Yes, Mark was horrible to you.
Liz: It was sheer hell with him up in Barnsmouth. Making out with Catherine on his yacht. While OUR kids could, and were watching... "Why are you so mean to Mummy, Daddy?" They kept imploring him, but Mark, he just...
Jim: He's awful.
Liz: He just doesn't care. How did I ever marry Mark?
Jim: Well, thank goodness, you have two great kids.
Liz: I love my Benjamin. You remember? I showed you my picture of him.
Jim: Yes, fisting the nostril of the huge bronze mask in the museum.
Liz: That was so funny!
Jim: How's Ben?
Liz: He was sitting on Michael's face at one point, threating, "I'm going to fart on your face! I'm going to fart on your face!" I told Ben, "Don't fart on your brother's face!"
Jim: That's outrageous!
Liz: Ben was wearing the wonderful Stamborough hoodie you had sent him for Christmas.
Jim: How's Michael?
Liz: He's getting thin.
Jim: Doesn't Mark feed them?
Liz: He often just skips across the street to Catherine, you know, his current MAIN paramour.
Jim: That's a pain.
Liz: She's a fat bitch, but all the other women in Masthead just envy her for it.
Jim: I'm sorry to hear.
[Unseen to him, Liz is tearing up.]

Liz: (after a hurried sniffle) So what are you doing this week up and coming?
Jim: I reserved for a lunch with Selectman Jason Perry.
Liz: So, who are you going with?
Jim: Well, I was hoping...
Liz: Yaaaa....
Jim: You....
Liz: Me?
Jim: Yes?
Liz: Rea-ly?
[A beat.]

Liz: Are you sure you didn't think of taking someone else along?
[Jim blushes.]

Liz: Are you sure I'm not forcing my way on you?
[Jim blushes again.]

Liz: What about Betty?
Jim: What? (smacks his own forehead with a slap) I haven't seen or talked to Betty since the three of us went to the Garth Brooks show. (with a stroke of his slapper hand over his hair)
Liz: You put me in the back seat.
Jim: Well I picked you up second, sometime before noon. Betty and I already got together in Newcomb Square to grab donuts...
Liz: And my favorite maple walnut muffin from Mr. Cooper's bakery and patisserie. Thanks again, hun...
Jim: I'm glad you enjoyed.
Liz: Trisha Yearwood was splendid in their duet!
Jim: Yeah [sings just the chorus] "Honey, can you squeeze me in?"
Liz: I love that song! (she smiles and sways, rocking, holding the handset ever closer to her ear)
Mmmmtchh! (she blows a kiss to the audience)
Sing the whole thing for me baby, when we get together tomorrow, Jimmie Jim.
Jim: Why, yes! Of course, Elizabeth. Tomorrow, at ten, in the morning.
Liz: Give me just a little more time, to get ready.
Jim: Ten-thirty?
Liz: Like eleven?
Jim: Sure thing, babe! Love you.
Liz: `Til then. (smiles, then rests her handset.)
[Elizabeth smiles, and gets to her dresser, dolling herself up, while Jim speaks on the words below.]

Jim: Who else but Liz,
takes an invitation
the way she does?
Not snatching it up right away,
but rolling it around...
like a ball of yarn.

My prom date's flat "yes"
from fourteen years ago
never got me all giddied up.
[Lights go out.]

ACT TWO. SCENE TWO.
[Saint Ignatius's food pantry.]
Bianca: It's been so good of Mr. Cooper to keep handing us his day-old donuts.
Greg: Let's have one for ourselves!

Richard: Good morning!
Bianca: Rick, what's cooking?
Richard: You're the ones serving us.

Bianca: Good one, honey! [giggles an Ana Marie Cox kind of giggle] Sorry, Greg and I did not prepare our clam chowder this morning.

Richard: Is Jim coming... later?

Greg: Not today, I'm afraid.
Rick: Writing another letter to the editor of our dear Stamborough Tribune?

Bianca: No, Rick. He's TRYING to make a cabinet out of some OLD panels of wood.

Rick: Has he done one before?
Bianca+Greg together: NO!

Rick: Well, I hope it's as good as his salmon.
Bianca: We make fine salmon ourselves.
Greg: Yeah, what's wrong with OUR salmon?
Rick: Oh, I do love your salmon cakes, but Jim's salmon...
Bianca: Yes?

Rick: Ooh... I love the skin!
[ A beat. ] I used to have the scrape the skin off the foil from my mother's salmon.
Jim lays his on a bed of dill, so I could savor all the scaled OMEGA-3 goodness of his salmon skin.

Bianca: Spendid!

Rick: And the crushed garlic and buttered minced tarragon that go on top.

Greg: My mouth is watering, now that you've brought that up (said enthusiastically while grabbing Bianca's thigh underneath the table, seen by the audience, but not Rick).

Rick: Oh, there he is! [A beat.] Hey, JIM!
[Jim waves.]

Greg: Jim, my man! Come right over here and join us!
I thought you told us you'd be occupied.

Jim: I was... but it seems that Yours Truly, the Swedish Chef has struck again.
[ He comes in carrying a plastic cake tray, the lid of which has been misted with the steam of just-baked goodies.]

Rick: Gun-holed doughnuts?

Jim: I baked these cookies while working on my cabinet.

Greg: How's the cabinet?

Jim: Well, I've always liked General Colin Powell...

Bianca: Har-har-har (pinches Jim's ear).

Jim: I sketched some drawings for it. They're in my little hatchback.

Greg: The Dodge Colt?

Jim: Yes. I will wait for the varnish to go on sale this Thursday at Henderson's.

Greg: That's smart!

Jim: And a good buy.

Bianca: Let's check out your cookies!

Rick: Are they oatmeal and raisin?

Jim: Better.
[ Jim lifts away the cake tray's lid. His three friends lean back and flash open-mouthed smiles and widened eyes. ]

Bianca+Greg: Chocola(eeeeeeeeeeee)te!
Rick: Chip. Chocolate Chocolatey Chip.

Bianca: It is, right, Jim, isn't it?

[ Jim simply hands them two each. Each cookie is the size of a slice of tomato.

Bianca, Rick and Greg chewing without speaking, just emitting sounds of their savoring the snacks. ]

Rick: I feel like Gary Coleman.

Bianca: I feel like Cookie Monster.

[ Greg keeps munching, grabbing more from Jim's tray, and emitting even louder sounds of enjoyment.

Jim starts having one of his own cookies. ]

Jim: Where are the other people?

Bianca: You came late. They're smoking their Newports in the patio.

Rick: I'll go get Ted, Phil, Sarah and all the others.

[ Jim and Rick will exit. Jim has his tray in hand, but has set the lid on Bianca and Greg's table. Bianca snatched a bunch of cookies for herself and Greg before Jim takes off. ]

Jim: Hey! They're for the shelter people.

Bianca: Gladly will I get evicted for your cookies.

Jim: You own your own home.

[ Bianca giggles impishly. ]

Jim: ( exiting stage right with Rick as his sidekick ) Cookies, people!

Rick: You've got to try them, Phil!

[ Greg throws his left arm around his Bianca, while she munches cookies herself. He kisses her right cheek, and strokes her blonde hair. ]

Bianca: We need some milk!
[ She sets her remaining cooking into Jim's inverted plastic lid, throws a look at Greg, then hands the loaded lid to her hubby. She starts to head for the food pantry contribution box loaded with plastic-bagged long-shelf-life processed foods. ]

Greg (grabbing her by the waist): Oh, no! You don't!

Bianca (snaps her head to look back at him) : Never question my resolve. ( indicating this, too, with her index finger )

[ She shoves him back. Greg drops back slumping on the chair, with a dropped-jaw expression.

Bianca starts rummaging through the donations box. She picks out one plastic bag, un-knots it, grabs a can of Carnation evaporated milk, and ties the bag with its other remaining contents, dropping the bag on the pile with a thud. ]

Greg: THAT stuff? That's for Spanish or Vietnamese coffee, or chocolate porridge!

[ Bianca exits, comes back, with a bottle of FIJI water (from their car offstage). She grabs a tumbler and a plastic cutlery spoon from a dish-rack stage-left and downstage, and reports back to Greg, plopping to sit on his lap, then reclining her spine as if on a dentists' chair.
Greg palms her right thigh. ]

Bianca: Mangia, Gregorio mio!

[ Greg smiles, lips together.

Bianca starts pouring her FIJI water into the tumbler.
Greg draws out his Swiss Army knife, and puncture the can open with the appropriate tool, and starts pouring in the evaporated milk to mix in with her water. Bianca starts stirring.

Rick and Jim re-enter. ]

Rick: SOLD OUT!

Bianca clumsily falls away from Greg's lap spilling the mixture and unsettling the table in front of them.

Rick: Sorry, kids. I'll wipe the mess. ( Rick starts to head to the downstage stage-left dish-rack himself, before Jim grabs him by the collar. )

Jim: Or maybe we should leave these two VOLUNTEERS alone, and smoke our Marlboros with Phil, Sarah and company.

Rick: I have Newports.

Jim ( grabbing Rick by the wrist): Perfect! ( Jim then drops his empty pastry tray on Greg and Bianca's table. ]

Jim: Just drop me my plasticware at my place tonight, Greg.
[ A beat. ]
( right before exiting ) Or whenever. Ciao!

[ Rick has his eyes on the couple, before Jim turns HIS neck for him towards their stage-right exit. They do exit.

Bianca and Greg look at each other simply, but before any Catholic guilt could eat them, they start tickling each other, and giggling. ]

****
ACT TWO. SCENE THREE.
[ At Alice's Diner ]
This is the coffee house,
where I have Eggs Benedict.

I have no extra money for roses
tomorrow night.

I royally miss the Liz of October 2000.
****
Act Two. scene one.

[Phone call. The stage is partitioned into two.]
[Liz is wearing a handsome blazer bought from the Salvation Army. She has silk black pants studded with rounded-end metal fastenings punctuating the length of her trouser's side seams. Liz has the face and hair of Tawny Kitaen.
Liz has put on Pink Pucker-shade lipstick.]

Liz: We won't see each other, if we don't meet up tonight! [Liz talks in a Karen Carpenter voice.]

[Liz strokes her hair above her ear against which she holds the telephone handset.]

Jim: I'm coming over, baby.
I'll get my keys and drive.

[Liz by herself drags the partition wall/divider with her own hands toward her end of the stage (left).
Jim sits on a chair with big arm rests. Jim straps on a simulated seated belt which is made of beauty queen sash material.
The beauty queen sash reads, "Stamborough."

Four visible stage hands (two dressed tuxedo black, two in white gowns; a woman and a man for each such costumed pair) lift Jim on the chair. The stage hands do a circle or two carrying Jim on his side of the stage (right).

A Pianist plays a Roberta Flack+Peabo Bryson song.]

A fifth and sixth stage hand bring a ladder in front of Liz.

Liz leans past the fence-ladder.

Liz: My angel!
Jim: I'm here for you!

[Liz skips above the ladder-fence which the fifth and sixth stage hands press to the stage floor to accomodate her purpose.

Liz races behind Jim's imaginary car, and hooks to his driver's side.]

[ Two of Jim's stage hands light up flash lights right towards the audience, like automotive high beams. ]

Liz: So, how's it going, Jim?
[Liz says this with both of her hands gripping an arm extended by the right rear stage hand, a limb standing for part of the imaginary car's body frame]

Liz: I had such a wonderful day today, but all the while, I was raring to see you.

Jim: Me, too. I've been doing chores all day.

[Liz lets go of the simulated car body frame, spins clockwise, then decides to fall sitting on Jim's lap.]
Liz: Come up the patio with me, Jim.

Liz undoes Jim's beauty queen sash "Stamborough" safety belt, and lets it drop behind his seat with big armrests.

Liz: You're my angel, Jim.
Jim: And you're my Catholic school girl princess, Liz.
Liz: No, I'm just a stupid girl.
Jim: No, you're not. You're smart, Liz. You're well-read...
Liz: I never even went to college...
Jim: That doesn't matter. You'll be fine.
[ Liz holds Jim by the shoulders. ]

Jim: Hold me tight, when I'm quite so terrified!

[ Jim strokes Liz's shoulder blades, one at a time. ]

Jim: Hold me tight, Elizabeth, when I am quite so terrified.
Liz: Call me when you get back from Ohio.
***
ACT THREE. SCENE ONE.

Jim: Out of ink! Out of blue ink! But all I was printing was black! Black text! I checked my preferences to gray scale, for a print job that was all single-toned black.
My printer runs through ink like cigarettes! And triple is the price of dear cartridges!
And I can't get an EPSON cartridge from CVS.

[ Edgar his Eagle squawks. ]

Edgar ( speaking ): Use your coffee for ink! ( squawks again )

Jim: ( directly at our audience, stroking his own chin )
Makes sense to me. ( He then pets Edgar, who proudly bobs his head. )

[ Jim proceeds to lift the lid of his printer, removing the cartridge for black and taking it over to his coffee pot, which he takes with his other hand. He walks to his downstage stage-center dish-washing sink, and pours coffee from the pot into the ink-emptied cartridge. ]
****
ACT THREE. SCENE TWO.
Reverend Adelaide Alba, rector: You're early, Jim.

Jim: The early bird gets the Word.

Caffeine is the new alcohol.
\
I am Jim Walker.
Act Five. Scene 1.
Bianca {to Greg]: Shall we tell Jim that we saw her with Mark?
Greg: Jim, we saw Liz, and she was not alone.
Jim, we saw Liz, who you say is
never home...
These days.

Jim: I don't need a woman to be a man.

John: Jim, you're the best.
Don't think
I can't afford Bradford.

It was not even a year,
not even half.

I thank, you all, for being here for me.

Thanksgiving, the Whalens had me over.
I telephoned Liz, but she hid behind the phone.

Liz is an atheist, (so) she doesn't celebrate Hannukah or Christmas.

The STamborough Medical Action Council.

Marching on March

Greg: Jim, my friend,
how are things going with you?

I never got around to driving Liz to her family in the town of Masthead.

Listening all night to Whitesnake, the archetypal minstrels of monogamic desire.

Is this Love?
Seven million hits on the Internet.
A million and a half are mine.

Mark left his wife, but refused to marry Liz, who lives with him, anyway, on Cobard street.

Give me a hug.
Benefit run.
Defend Stamborough, Abolish SMAC! Evict SMAC!

Jim: Two strong couples over here,
and I am the kicker.

[The Chorus sings or recites the closing passage lightly jogging around.]
We the people of Stamborough.
run
This is our town.
Our state is all stashed with lottery.
Fare
Each day is a challenge,
but there's nothing we won't manage.

68 Pleasant Street, Town of Stamborough,
Index County,
State of New Leeds, zip code 01876, USA

[The Chorus sings or recites the closing passage lightly jogging around.]

Stambrough Chorus:
Come ye all, commuters and tourists.
Have yourself a corned beef sandwich.
Feed your families
and our parking meters
on weekday office-hour visits.

We've got the best two dentists
in Index County.
They'll perfect your tooth ceramics
right on their very clinics' premises.

Saltwater taffy and fancy fudge
are on Bishop's corner.