A play in 2 acts, Comedy-drama, by Ken Bradbury, 2012

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An excerpt …

The Cast: Murial Wheatley and Sophie McGuire … elderly ladies

Lucas and Rose … a middle-aged couple

Paula … a young girl

Morgan, a retirement home manager/Dyer, a DMV employee/Cunningham, mail deliverer (played by the same actor)

Act I

Scene 1: Morning.

Two porches angle to slightly face each other with a small patch of lawn between them. Murial’s porch is stage right, storybook in its neatness … Norman Rockwell meets Martha Stewart. Sophie’s front porch is at stage left, a joyous explosion of color with little regard for symmetry, order, or … some might say … taste. Disney World on speed. The lights come up to reveal Murial sitting on her porch, reading the newspaper.

(A crash is heard inside Sophie’s house … then)

SOPHIE: (from inside) Damn! (a long pause, then Sophie enters, heavily splattered in flour.)

MURIAL: (a long pause, sees her but is not surprised to find Sophie in any condition) You’re late.

SOPHIE: I’m not late.

MURIAL: You’re late.

SOPHIE: What time is it?

MURIAL: It doesn’t matter. I’ve been out here for half an hour.

SOPHIE: You’re not even wearing a watch.

MURIAL: And you’re a mess.

SOPHIE: How can I be late when you don’t even know what time it is?

MURIAL: Was it your cat?

SOPHIE: The sun’s barely up.

MURIAL: It was your cat, wasn’t it?

SOPHIE: It was not my damned cat!

MURIAL: Then what was it?

SOPHIE: It was my damned cat … but it wasn’t his fault.

MURIAL: Never is. You’re a mess.


MURIAL: You’re covered with … I don’t know … what is it?

SOPHIE: (notices her dusting for the first time, then) Gunpowder. I’m building a bomb in my kitchen.

MURIAL: You’re crazy.

SOPHIE: What time is it?

MURIAL: How should I know? I don’t have a watch. (indicating the paper) Did you read what your president did?

SOPHIE: It’s flour. I had it in a bowl on the kitchen table and the cat couldn’t help it.

MURIAL: Taxes. Your president loves taxes.

SOPHIE: It’s a nice state.

MURIAL: Taxes! He’s proposing more taxes! And your hearing’s getting worse!

SOPHIE: What? Kidding! I heard you! I heard you! I don’t have time to read the paper. I’m building bombs.

MURIAL: When was the last time you got beyond the horoscope section of any newspaper?

SOPHIE: I don’t need to read it. You tell me everything that happens. What time is it?

MURIAL: 7:15.

SOPHIE: You told me you don’t have a watch.

MURIAL: I don’t need a watch. I have the time in my head.

SOPHIE: That’s ridiculous. (whips open her porch door and looks at a clock, then) 7:15 … exactly. How do you do that?

MURIAL: What day is it?

SOPHIE: Wednesday.

MURIAL: Thursday. You don’t even know the day.

SOPHIE: I had the right week.

MURIAL: I give up.

SOPHIE: Oh! … Oh!

MURIAL: What’s the matter?

SOPHIE: This is Thursday? I had an appointment on Wednesday!

MURIAL: You missed it. What was it?

SOPHIE: I don’t remember … but it was Wednesday. I had an appointment on Wednesday and it was very important.

MURIAL: I give up.

SOPHIE: Something medical.

MURIAL: Oh, great.

SOPHIE: Quick. Look at me. Is anything missing?

MURIAL: Your mind.

SOPHIE: Oh … what was it? Darn. I need write these things down.

MURIAL: You missed a doctor’s appointment?

SOPHIE: I don’t know. Do I look bad?


SOPHIE: I knew it. It was something medical.

MURIAL: But you look normal.

SOPHIE: Oh good. (a pause, then) Maybe they’ll call to remind me.


SOPHIE: How should I know?

MURIAL: Just sit down, Sophie. Sit down and enjoy the morning.

SOPHIE: I don’t even have my makeup on yet.

MURIAL: You don’t need makeup, Sophie. You have flour. Besides, you’re gorgeous.

SOPHIE: You’re just saying that.


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