THE SOUL OF THE MATTER

(The lady from the welfare agency …)

MRS. SHOE: (Mrs. Shoe, a warm and gregarious lady, busies herself around her house, singing to herself as she dusts, sweeps and cleans. She’s never met a stranger. The thought of withholding anything that’s on her mind, has never crossed it.) What? (shouting off) Get off that tongue! I’ve told you a million times! You wanna bust your head? I know it’s fun to slide but I’m tired of picking you kids up off the toe! Now get down! (back to her work) Kids. God love ‘em. Somebody’s gotta.

MS. PRISS: (entering, an overly officious lady, prim and proper) Excuse me?

MRS. SHOE: Hello, luv!

MS. PRISS: Are you ... (consulting her notes) Mrs. Shoe?

MRS. SHOE: I misses you, too, but what can you do?

MS. PRISS: I beg your pardon?

MRS. SHOE: It’s a joke. “Mrs. Shoe. Misses You.” An old family joke. From a very old family. Get me? (Priss stares blankly) I guess you don’t.  Well, come in, deary, and have a seat. (Shoe dusts off a chair and offers it to Priss)

(Just a few questions, please.)

MISS PRISS: Your family has always lived in shoes?

MRS. SHOE: Yeh ... except for Uncle Harris. He lived in a sock. Harris was about three toes short of a full sneaker, but we loved him.

MISS PRISS: You can’t be serious!

MRS. SHOE: Wish I wasn’t ... crawlin’ around in that sock all day long. (sees something offstage and shouts) I said “Stay off that tongue! You’re gonna bust your head!”

MISS PRISS: Who’re you talking to?

MRS. SHOE: The kids. I got so many I don’t know what to do.

(Tables are turned.)

MISS PRISS: I mean no offense, Mrs. Shoe, but you simply do not have the education to be responsible for the welfare of these children. My agency will be here tomorrow. Please have the kids ready.

MRS. SHOE: How many kids do you have, Miss Priss?

MISS PRISS: That’s irrelevant, but I have two. A boy and girl.

MRS. SHOE: And where are they right now?

MISS PRISS: Again, that’s no concern of yours, but I put them in professional daycare every morning.

MRS. SHOE: Reckon they miss their mama?

MISS PRISS: I know where you’re leading, and that’s ridiculous. My children have the best care money can buy.

MRS. SHOE: (shaking her head) Poor kids. Why don’t you send them over to me for a few days. They need a mama, not a professional.

MISS PRISS: I have never been so insulted in my life.

MRS. SHOE: (friendly, but making her point) Oh, surely you have. You mean to say folks have been lyin’ to you?