DOLD ME!

AN ENTERTAINMENT
BY JULESFEIFf'ER

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DRAMATISTS
HOUSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY "{ SERVICE

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IIOLD ~IE!
AN ENTERTAINMENT

BY JULES FElf"FEB
ESTABLISHEDBYMEMBERS OF THE

DRAMATISTS' GUILD OF THE AUTHORS' LE.AGUE OF MIERIC'~

fiJr the

l lANDLING OF THE ACTING RIGHTS

OF MEMBERS' PLAYS

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THE ENCOURAGE~v1ENTOF THE A~1ERICA1 THEATRE

DRAMATISTS
PLAY SERVICE
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INC.
 HOLD ME!
Copyright© 1977, Jules Feiffcr TI1c original production of Jules Feiffer's HOLD ME! directed by
Caymkhael Patten, opened at The American Place Theatre, Subplot
All Rights Reserved Cafe, as part of their American Humorist Series, on January t 3, 1977.
The set designer was Kurt Lundell. The lighting designer was Edward
CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that performance of 1\1. Greenberg. The costume designer was Ruth Morley. The cast was
HOLD Ml:.! is subject to payment of a royalty. It is fuJly protected under the as follows:
copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all coumrie~ covered by the
lnternarional Copyright Union (including rhc Dominion of Canada and che rest
of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American \X'o.,,AN ..................................... Geraldine Brooks
Copyright Convention, rhe Universal Copyright Convention, tlie Berne
Convention, and of all councrics wirh which the United Scares has reciprocal \Vo.,v,N 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kathleen Chalfant
copyright relations. All rights, including profe~sionaJ/amateur stage rights, mmion
picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video /\1AN t ............................................ Paul Dooley
or sound recording, all ocher forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such
as CD-ROM, CD-I. DVD, information scoragc and retrieval systems and DANCER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dalienne Majors
photocopying. and the rights of translation into foreign languages, arc strictly
reserved. Particular emphasis is placed upon the matter of readings, permission for B1:Ri-.AR1> ..•...•••...•......••......•.••..••••..• Michael Tucci
which muse be secured from the Author's agent in writing.

The nonprofessional scage performance rights in HOLD ME! are controlled

exclusively by DRAMATISTS PlAY SERVICE, INC., 440 Park Avenue Souch,
New York, NY l 00 I 6. No nonprofessional performance of the Play may be given
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3
 HOLD ME!
ACT ONE

A DANCE TO FUNCTIONING

.A, lights come up she is discovered, standirig next to bed

L. c. 'Her dance con'l1St5of various movements illustrating
her functions.

DANCER. A dance. To functioning. In this dance I celebrate the

mundane. Waking! Getting out of bed! Exercise! Coffee! Bathing!
Dressing! (Bernard enters u. R. door, cros.,es toward dancer, they
f,ee=e. st<1reateach other trying to make co,itact, fail, then Bernard
Cfosses to LL L. ancl sits, the dancer sits o. L. c.)

HOOKED ON NICE
BERNARD. It hasn't always been easy. Once I was rotten. I looked
rotten. I thought rotten. I could tell by the way reople stared away
from me that they were thinking- "There goes a rotten kid." So
I made a decision to convert. I studied to be nice. At first it was
pure atfectatjon. Outside I did favors, lent money, smiles a lot. But
inside, I stayed rotten. But give niceness an inch and it takes a mile.
(He c, o,ses o. L. above barrel.) Niceness ran amok inside of me.
I became a Saint! When I came into a room people's eyes teared.
I got dependent on it. I got nicer and nicer! Even when it wasn't
required, I was nice. Guys wouldn't talk sex in front of me. Girls
began to think of me as a friend. I gave my analyst guilt feelings.
(1 le crosc;es back to ledge.) l tried to cut down but I had lost the
power of choice. I was hooked on nice! ( yrins.) Not that I'm com-
plaining, mind you. ('J-ie sits.)

BERNARD /GROWNUP
~tan 1 enters behind u. L. ledge and stands by opening.
GROWNUP (MAN 1). How do you do, Mr. Mergendeiler. I'm
your grownup.
5
BERNARD. You're my what?
GROWNUP. (J\fm1 1 crosses to ledge ml{I sits next to Bernard.)
Surely you've always wanted a grownup. Somebody who takes care
of those petty day to day atf airs which so complicate one's life
and who handles them cleanly and efficiently. Somebody who will
not allow your insurance to lapse, your rent to fall over due, your
car to break down. Somebody who will not be nervous about call-
ing the landlord about repairs, the girl friend about breaking a
date, the boss about a needed raise. In other words, somebody who
is trained to do all those adult things too many of us have been
asked to do since childhood and still can't quite manage. (~1at1 1
crosse5 to L . .)toop.) Somebody who is wilting and happy to stand
on your own two feet for you, to fight all your battles, to make all
your difficult decisions, i.e.-your grownup!
BERNARD. You mean I won't have to make a decision ever again?
GROWNUP. Once in your employ, I, your grownup, will make
all of them.
BERNARD. (Bernard rise'i, sbakes ~tan 1 ·s band.) It's unbeliev-
able! It's what I've dreamed of all my life! What do you want me
to pay you'
GROWNUP Gee, I don't know. (~tan t ~its, hand still extended.)
What do you think I'm worth? (Bernard drops his band and sits
ot1 u. L. ledge.)
CHRISTMAS PRESENT
1t'oman 1 enters u. R. door with shirt box, o. L. c. to
dancer and addreHcs her.
WOMAN (WOMAN 1). I want to return this Christmas present.
(She bat1ds box to tfoncer.) My husband gave it to me. It's the
wrong color. Ifs the wrong size. It's the wrong present. And he's
the wrong husband. Every Christmas I realize that. (Sbe crosses
R., away from tlm1cer, dancer puts box on f orestage.)
TALK TOO MUCH
I talk too much. I'm quite bright, so it's interesting, but neverthe-
less, I talk too much. You see, already I'm saying more than I
should. Men hate it for a woman to blurt out, "I'm bright." They
6 red bag.) When I feel ordinary I wear a brown paper bag. (Puts
think she's realty saying, "I'm brighter than you are.'' As a matter
of fact, that is what I'm saying. I'm brighter than even the brightest
men I know. That's why it's a mistake to talk too much. Men fall
behind and feel challenged and grow hostile. So when I'm ve.ry
attracted to a man I make it a point to talk more slowly than I
would to one of my woman friends. And because I guide him along
gently from insight to insight he ends up being terribly impressed
with his own brilliance. And with mine for being able to keep up
with him. And he tells me I'm the flrst woman he's ever met who's
as interesting as one of hi!> boy friends. (She ,its R. c., on bed.)
That's love.
YOU NEVER COME NEAR ME
'Woman 2 enters u. L. behind ledge and crosses lo ~fan 1.
WIFE (WOMAN 2). You never come near me anymore.
HUSBAND (MAN 1). (~tan t rises, and backs away from her.)
That's not true.
WI FE. ('Woman 2 crosses toward him.) There's a gulf widening
between us.
HUSBAND. ('.He continues to back up.) I don't know what you're
talking about.
WIFE. I used to know your every waking thought.
HUSBAND. ('.He backs u. R.) Who thinks anymore?
WIFE. I must know where I stand.
HUSBAND. ('.He stands by the u. R. ledge.) I'm as close to you as
ever.
WIFE. Then say the words I want to hear.
HUSBAND. I love you. I always love you. ('.He sits and moves
carton and bags in front of him.)
WIFE. Thank you, my darling. Thank you. ("Woman 2 sits, :Man f
puts a small brown paper bag over bis bead.)
PAPER BAG
HUSBAND (MAN 1). I wear a paper bag over my head. When
I'm happy, I wear a red paper bag. (Puts red bag over 1st bag.)
When I'm depressed I wear a blue paper bag. (Puts blue bag over
7
i
11ro11'11 l1c1tl OPt'r \XIhen I feel gran<l I wear a carton.
1,111<1IM1J .)
(Put,; ,1 c,1t1,111 oue, 1>,011111 t,c1,J) Yet people im,ist on telling me
I'm afrai<l of showing emotion. ~ lo\\' chic do you show emotion?
SETTLING FOR 2ND BEST
1t·'umt1111 cro~sc, to u. n. letlge m1Llsits ,1ext to 5\fon 1.
2ND \XIIFE (\v'O/\1At--.;1). All the man iages we know-
l lUSBAND (/\ 1AN t). Cracking up-
2ND \XIIrE. Four last month-
1IUSBAND. Two the month before-
2ND \XIIFE.All our age-
HUSBAND. All married about the time we wcre-
2ND \XIIFE l11e husbands drinking too much-
HUSBAt--.;D.The wives going back into analysis-
2ND Wlr:E. The wjves becoming more assertive.
HUSBAND. That husbands becoming bitter.
2ND WIFE. Makes you wonder how we've survived.
HUSBAND. Never fighting.
2ND WIFE. Never drinking-
HUSBAND. Never going back into ana1ysis-
2ND \XIJFE.I guess it's because we don't love each other-
1-IUSBAND. A lot to be said for settling for second best. (She
ki'>sestop of carton mid exits u. R. door.)
FIXATIVE
FIXATIVE LADY (WOtvtAN 2). First thing I do every day is
get up and put on my body. (1Vomm1 2 crosses D. c.) Next, I
screw on my head, clip in my eyes, paste on my nose and cut out
a hole for my mouth. Then I spray the whole thing with fixative
and go to work. By midmorning my eyes are gone. By noon, I've
lost the use of my mouth. By late afternoon, I can hardly breathe
through my no c. By quitting time, the only thing still working is
my body. I <lr~git home and give it a hath. It wakes up. I give my
head a d, ink. (She c,os,e, to u. R. cloor.) It wakes up. My date
cnmcs. I spray 011 some flx;-itivcand we go out dancing. J;c calls
me his dream giil. (SIJe <'.·ih u. R., Uenwr ti cros,('S to 1.. slef> and
sils.)
8 9
DANCE TO 1977
Dat1ccr rise~. crosses c., docs 1:Jer''Dat1ce to 1977," pick-
i11gttf> the key mometlf, of her dat1cesof previous years.
DANCER. A dance to 1977. This year's dance attempts a more
sophisticated approach than my dances of previous years. It rejects
the too easy alienation of my dance of '76. It eliminates the stylish
disillusion of my dance of 175. It shuns the boastful non-con-
formity of my d;lnce of '7 4. It denies the egocentric idealism of my
dance!:i of '73, '72, '71, and '70. This year's dance is strictly
pragmatic. Realistic in its appraisal of the world, unsentimental in
it~ summing up of my position in it. A dance to t 977. (Sbe crosses
to large crate in one quick mot'ement, turns it ouer and doubles up
inside it, beLld first, feet sticking out.)
DEPENDENT, ll'\;DEPENDENT
7t1oman 2 enters u. L. door, cros~es to bed and sits D. c.
INDEPENDENT WOMAN (WOMAN 2). Most men want me
to be dependent. But I don't want to be dependent. Because when
I'm dependent, I pick the wrong men to depend on and they betray
me. On the other hand, when I'm independent I attract the wrong
kind of men who get so dependent on me that in order to break
free I betray them. Some day I'll meet a man who won't be de-
pendent and won't expect me to be dependent. And he won't
betray me. And I won't betray him. And that wiJI be love. (S'he
yawns loudly, Dancer comes out of crate, at1d sits looking into it.)
COTTAGE CHEESE
t IU~BAND (MAN 1). (Removes ba!JSand carton. ,rncl glares at
1ndependerrt Woman. [1Voman 2].) You have cottage cheese on
your chin. Why don't you ever wipe your chin after you eat?
You're thirty-one years old. You're old enough to learn to use a
napkin. You're thirty-one years old, you've started to get wrinkles.
(;\Ian 1 cornes to 1t'oma,1 2.) It doesn't help when there's cottage
cheese along with the wrinkles. And if it's not cottage cheese, it's
egg. And if it's not egg, it's tuna fish. And if it ·s not on your
check, it's on your nose. And if it's not on your nose, it's in your
hair. I low do you manage to get it in your hair? (1 re crosse~ D. L.
to barrel mid sits.) I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore. A sup-
posedly mature woman with all that cottage cheese, egg and tuna
fish on your chin and your nose and your hair. I want a divorce.
(SIJc c, oues to u. R. 1edgeand sits.)
I READ A BOOK
'1t'omm1 1 puts head through curtains.
BED LADY (WOMAN 1). Listen, world! ('11/oman 1 comes
through window and sits on bed, she is wrapped in a quilt. Jlfan 1
exits u. L. door.) You know what I did today? I read a hook-
0 K., I started to read a book! Yes, I did! A big book, world! A
classic! I picked it out of the bookcase and I started right in read-
ing it! And you know how far I got before my mind began to
wander? I got all the way to page five-before I turned on the
1V. -And, hey, you know what was on the 1V? The movie ver-
sion of this book! How lucky can one girl be?
FRAUD
BERNARD. (1o Woman.) Fraud. ('11/oman f withdraws, Bernard
crosses o. c.) Families are a fraud. friends are a fraud. \v'ork is a
fraud. Faith is a fraud. Love: (1t 1oman 2 embraces Bernard, t1Jey
cros,c;lo bed and sit o. c.) When you get together ,vith one other
person to protect yourselves against fraud.
AND WHAT DID I SAY NEXT
BERNARD. (Jf olding bis he,uf, dc~pcrtJtely 1Jtmyover. '111oman 2
is hold,ng her arms around bim ) And what did I say next?
GIRLFRIEND (WOMAN 2). You told me you loved me and were
sorry for the way you treated me. Don't you remember?
BERNARD. Oh sure. Sure. That's when I took you home, right?
GIRLFRIEND. No. You wanted to go on a ferry ride, don't you
remember? You apologized to me all the way-both ways.
BERNARD. Oh, that's right. Sure. Then I took you home.
GIRLr=RIENO No. Don't you remember? We couldn't find a t;1xi
10
and you said it was your fault because you were such a rotten guy
and you began to cry.
BERNARD. (Defensive.) I'm not sure I remember that.
GIRLFRIEND. And I said you were a lonely guy and you just had
a little too much to drink and why not, everybody has a right on
New Year's Eve.
BERNARD. That's a very understanding thing to say.
GIRLFRIEND. Then you asked me to marry you .... Remem-
ber? ... Remember? (She turns him toward her.) Bernard, do
you or don't you remember? (She exits u. R., furious.)
BERNARD. What a terrifying way to start a year. ('J-le crosses to
u. R. ledge, sits and takes out his notebook.)
JERRY DOWN AT THE OFFICE
7rfan 1 enters u. L. door.
BOSS (MAN t). Jerry down at the office, he's fooling around be-
hind his wife's back with Renee the book-keeper. ('J-le sits L. c. on
bed.) You know what I tell him?
WIFE (WOMAN 1). John, I'm going crazy.
BOSS. ('He ties his shoe.) I say to him: "Jerry, I don't under-
stand you guys who go fooling around with other women. My
Joanie is six different kinds of women and that's enough for one
man. 11
WIFE. Please listen, John.
BOSS. "She's a wife, mother, sister, daughter, sweetheart, best
friend. How many women can a guy want?"
WIFE. John, I'm going crazy.
BOSS. "Every night," I tell him, "it's a new experience. for fifteen
years I come home, Joanie's waiting there with a surprise."
WIFE. Please listen for once, John.
BOSS. So here I am home, baby. Who you gonna be for John
tonight?
WIFE. Myself.
BOSS. Why, when I'm in such a good mood, do you have to start
a fight? (7hey bot1Jrise angrily, sbe exits u. R. door, he crosses to
u. L. ledqe a11J.1iils.)
11
 lMPRESSED WITH ME
BERNARD. I always used to notice girls on the bus if they were
writing in a notebook. (J le takes out bis notebook.) I'd fl~ure they
were writers and I'd want to go over and start a conversation about
how I used to write a lot in school. And I was going to do it again
someday. And they'd be able to tell from the way I talked and my
personal charm ;1ndeverything that if I ever wanted to I c?uld be a
very good writer. ('He rises, crosses to R. c. of bed and s,ts.) And
just to show them that I wasn't a lot of hot air fld say names to
them-like "Updike'' and "Salinger" and ''Albee''-you know, so
they'd begin to trust me and let me look at what they'd written.
And it would be great! Really great! Not quite as great as what I
could write if I ever got around to it. Less great, but great. And
J>d make a few criticisms-you know, about sentence structure
('1Voman 2 euters u. L. door and sits u. 1.. on bed.) things that
would show that I knew what I was talking about. And when they'd
get off the bus they'd be surprised because instead of getting off
with them I'd say: ''Good-hyc.,, And then they'd know that I
wasn't just a phoney trying for a pickup and they'd be very im-
pressed with me. And that's aJI I'd want. I just want somebody to
be impressed with me. (1tJ0111a11 2 s1,dc.so. on ln.·cl,Be, t1md tw us
to her)
J\1E, t\1E, t\.1E, I
BERNARD. ( Co,we, .'i11lio,ial/y to JfJom,m 2.) J\1c. Mc. 1'·1e.Mc.
Me. Me. J\1t:. J\1e. Me. Me. Me. Me. t\.ic. l\1c. l\1c. Mc. J\·1e.Me.
Me. Me. Mc. 1'1c. 1\1c.l\1c. l\ 1e. ~1c. l\1c. 1c. i\1e. l\1e.
GIRLFRIEND. (\Xl01\1AN 2). I- (Be, 11,1rtlvmu11s, '1f'onwn 2
collap.,es to ~oor .)
f IUSRANO (l\,tAN 1). I used to read them ad~-kno," what I
mean? "E, en your he t friend won't tell you'' ads-and it used to
bother me ht•causc if you're n right guy-nice to your mother and
everything-,\ h:1t kind of girl is it who'd throw you over because
of the wrong toothpaste you U'-Cd-or what kind of phoney friend
is it who'd spend his time not drinking with you but smelling you?
12
And then it would bother me how these people in the .tds would
become popular overnight by changing brnnd names. (]le rises and
crosses D. L. to barrel and sits.) I mean they didn't change their
insides-they weren't better people. But suddenly they'd switch
brands and become pride of the regiment. \"1/'eIIthis used to
bother me because, frankly, people never have taken to me. Like at
the joh the only desk during breaks where you can t he.1r a steady
1
bu:.:.::-buzzof conversation is mine. Nobody ever comes over to me!
r ah, ays got to go over to them. All my life. \'v'hen I was a kid and
three of us would walk down the street? I'd never be in the middle.
I'd always be on the gutter side. I never got invited to join up with
any clubs. I went through the entire army without once being in-
vited to play cards. And I admit sometimes I used to wake up in
the middle of the night dripping sweat-and going on and off in my
head like a big neon sign was-"B.1d breath, underarm odor, bad
breath." I got married and my wife treated me like a janitor. The
only thing she could say nice for me was that I'm good with my
hands. \Xlhcn the other wives boa~tcd about their husbands' talents
she'd c.lll me in to fix the sink. So at parties I'd do my famous
"fixing the sink bit,, and the rest of the time we were acquaintances.
And more and more in the back of my head it went- "Ch.lnge
your soap. Change your toothpaste." But-I don't know-I always
felt that I'm me for hetter or worse. I'm me! Then my kids who
my wife says arc at " sensitive age beg;m to make insensitive
cracks. So I finally gave in. I changed my hrand of toothpaste, my
brand of hair oil, my brand of soap and my suit style. And son of
a gun, the ads were right! My wife adored me. The kids loved me.
Suddenly everybody was my buddy for the first time in my life!
Three weeks of it was all I could take. ll1en I went back to the
old ways. ff they prefer that hrand ovc·r me the hell with them.
(1 lc , iscs mul crnwls 11110 hetl.)
1
l LL Dlf=
1Vonum 1 enters u. L. cfoor, sl,e m c lo D. H. co, ner of
1,c,l in the course Cl{t1Jc/>icce.
VIRGIN (\'v'01'1AN l). l\1oncfay: I met the cutest boy. All night
long he told me I was afraid of life. If he calls me, I'll die. Tues-
day: I fe called me for a date. All night long he confused me c1bout
13
who I am. If he likes me, I'll die. Wednesday: He says he loves me.
All night long he warned me he'd hurt me. If he touches me, 1'11
die. Thursday: He wants to marry me. All night long he told me
living with my mother was a stifling experience. If I stty yec;to him,
I'll die. Friday: I said yes,. J\11night long he told me he was my
last chance to escape my bourgeois background. If J marry him,
I'll die. Saturday: The wedding's set for tomorrow. All night long
my mother told me I'm ruining my life. On the way to church I'll
die. Sunday: We're married. Tonight I die. Monday: He eats like
a pig. I Ie drinks like a fish. He slept the whole morning away.
(SIJe srts o. R. 011 bed.) I guc,<.iI won't die.
LOSS or INNOCENCE
DANCER. (DmJCer , i,e,, m1d d,11,cestlJrougfJ011If>iecc.) J\ dance
to the Joss of innocence. (She cro,Sl'\ D. t..) In this dance I have
symbolized youth, it, hopes, its wishes, its dreams. ftc; choice of
friends, of lovers, of gods. Youth-bright and cager to search life
for its meaning (She .,tml(ls u. 1. 011 t,cd.) certain in the knowledge
that it will find that meaning. And then comes disillusion l11c dis-
appointment of friends-the inadequacy of lovers ( She strp, 0l'Cr
1'1an 1 L1ndcro<;'>e,R. of fled.) the failure of gods. The gaining of
bitter insights-there is no one who doesn't Le-there is nothing
incorruptible. They're alJ cheats c1ncJout to get you! Don't hclievc
a single one of the no good dirty- I·orget it. ( \lie uos.,c, to u. It
corner of lJeclc111cls1l.'i.) I don't feel like dancing.
... STILL I BELIEVE:IT
1Vo11w11
1 , i~e, ,111cl cro.,.,c.,n. 1.. I<.> /,11,
r<.:lt111cl
·''"·
GIRLFRIEND (WOMAN 2). I'm alwily" , ight ahout cvt·1 ything.
I ~an always tell which friend') will bctr;,y me moments hcforc I
put my tru!)t in them. Still I tru~t them. I know in my bones what
a man's going to try with me as soon as we lift our first drink.
Still I drink it. I can tell the instant I make new promises to myself
that I intend to hreak them. Still I make them. I knov,• tl1l' second
people say I'm c.Jojngbetter that they must he lying. Still I believe
them. (Sbe cro,sci; o. c to bed, "h ,111<1 /){'!}ins to 1,mk u. r.) I can
14
see the end of every experience before I begin it. Still I begin it. For
me, getting out of hcd in the morning is an act of false confidence.
I I !ATE MYSELF, BEGIN AGAIN
\'VOMAN 1. I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself. I dislike
my~tlf. I like myself. I like myself. I like myself. I like myself. I
like myself! I love myself! (Recoils.) Begin again. (She dashes out
u. L. door, followed 011t by ;\lm1 1 and '}t/0111m1 2, the Dancer exits
cl ,1lone on stage.)
u. R. le,wi11gHcr11,11
BREAD CRUMBS
BERNARD. (Ben1ar£l rises, cros,e'i D. c. throwing imaginary bread
cnm,hs.) So I'm going out with this girl for the first time and we're
going to the movies and, as usual, I'm throwing out my bread
crumbs. And she asks me what is it that I'm doing and I tell her
that I'm throwing out bread crumbs so I can find my way home
because I helve this bad sense of direction. ('He sits D. c. on bed.)
So she laughs like it's a big joke and I say I don't see why my
personal troubles should make such a big joke. And she said, \(Look
-don't worry-I 'II take you home!" So I got mad. I said, "Look-
we each have our own way of finding ourselves. Who is to say
yours is better than mine?" And she said, "You can't make a whole
life's philosophy out of bread crumbs.'' So right out on the street
we had a fight. (] le crosses u. R.) And I got so mad I walked away
clnd I completely forgot to follow my bread crumbs. And an amaz-
ing thing happened-I had no trouble getting home. It seems to
make my whole past life invalid. (1 le exits u. H. doo, .)
BEFORE ANYTHING l lAPPENS
[,wghter i, heard off L., .'illan 1 mid 'Won1at1 1 enter u. L.
door, she carrying 2 g la.,.,t>s,he is et~rryitig a key. 'Jie i1i
telling the following joke as they enter. "So the girl on the
answering service says the guy says he's your brother
l➔arvey. I said it can't be I Iarvey, I farvey knows I don't
make house calls. Turns out it wa" I larvey. Am I my
brother's doctor?'' 1-Voman 1 resf>oncl«i."Hell no, he's in
Acapulco." (Both laugh)
15
I
MALE CONVENTIONEER (MAN J). ('"Woman 1 bands him
L/fos, cmtl li1kes key, .,l;e plact."iit on ban cl mid erosses lo bed a11cl
.,ils. ;(c crosc;e~·
lo lier say~ ''He's in Acapulco" ftikcs her glas1:,from
1Jcr aml .\lcicb, lwt1J ,1/,,.,,c;c~
m1elp/Clce<"i
t11cmOH lJmrel, be crosses
bcitk to her, sizes 1Jer11f>.)Now look, before anything happens be-
tween us-l vc got to tell you something and hope that it won't
1
make a d1ffcrcncc.
\\'OMAN CONVENTIONEER (\'qOMAN 1). Oh, it can't be all
that serious.
MALE CONVFNTION[ER. I'm married.
WOMAN C:ONVFNTIONEER. I'm glad you told me.
MALE CONVL:NTIONEER. WeJl-whc1t do you think?
WOMAN C..ONVENTIONEER.About what? ('Jle sits.)
MALE CONVENTIONEER. About us! Docs it make a difference
to you? The fact that I'm married that is?
WOMAN CONVENTIONEER Of course not, why ~hould it?
MALE CONVI..:NTIONEf.R.Why should it? (}le rr'iec;, shocked.)
Why shouldn t it? You may have the wrong idea about me-I don't
1
play around a hell of a lot 1
WOMAN CONVENTIONEER. l Ioncy, honest it doesn't matter
in the lt•ast to me.
MALE CONVFNTl()Nf·ER. Oh, it docsn't does it. (:1le backs 11p.)
\'v'ell maybe thi~ will. I love my wife very much!
WOMAN CONVf:NTIONEER. tvbrvclous! Arc there any kids?
MALE CONVl:N I IONEER. I don't know what you're trying to
pull but as long as I'vc gone this far you may as well know the
complete truth-to me you're a one night adventure!
WOMAN CONVENTIONEER. And that's what you are to me,
honey! After i'lllI'm married too.
MALE CONV!2NT10Nl]:R You-married?
WOMAN CONVFNTIONEER. Sure.
MALE CONVEN.l IONEl:R. I-I didn't know.
\XiQMAN CONV[NTIONl:ER. Want to scr. my kids? (She
crosse,· u. 1..1 ,1s.,1,cdot.•,,be docft)cs D. c.)
MALE CONVFNTIONEER. No-no! ror godsakcs-p1easc don't!
\'v'OMAN CONV[NTlONEl:R. Look, sugar-you want to forget
the whole thing?
MALE CONVENTIONI:ER. You won't think I'm unmanly?
(She c,o\q,,· lo IJit11mid Jrn!.,her m111s cttotmd him.)
16
WOMAN CONVENTIONEER. Honey, to me yot1're a tiger. Ole
crosc;e, to ,d,011rlttr,tc etale, ,1(ter l,1kiw1 one l,isl look cit 1Jcr.)
t-..1ALECONVENTIONEER. What a truly wondcrful ,.voman. If J
weren't happily m~rried-that little girl's husband would have to
look out. ('He cro1,ses to u. R. ledge ,md sits, .\he cros,es to L.
stoop and sits.)
LOVE FRANK AGAIN
1-Vonum 2 er1ters u. R. door, crosses lo 1Jeda11dsits R. c.
CONVENTIONEER'S WIFE (W01'1AN 2). By the time Frank
told me he was leaving on a business trip for a month I had lost
all feeling for him. Each dinner when he'd come I'd try to rekindle
the flame, but all I could think of as he gobbled up my chicken
was: "All I am is a servant to you, Frank." So whe11he announced
he had to go away I was delighted. While 1:rank was away I could
find myself again! I could make plans! The first week Frank was
away I went out seven times. The telephone never stopped ringing.
I had a marvelous time! The second week Frank was away I got
tired of the same old faces, same old lines. I remembered what
drove me to marry Frank in the first place. The third week Frank
was away I felt closer to him than I had in years. I stayed home,
read Jane Austen and slept on Frank's side of the hed. TI1e fourth
week Frank was away I fell madly in love with him. I hated n1yself
for my withdrawal, for my failure of him. The Afth week Frank
came home. The minute he walked in and said, crl'm back, <lading!"
(She hcKks D. H. and sit i; on large crate.) I withdrew. I can hardly
wait for his next business trip so I can love f-rank again.
SO I DRINK
Be,11ardenters u. 1.. door, 1Jccros~es to D. L. l,arrel, picks
uf> glassec;and .~ifs.)
BERNARD. Sometimes I feel small. And sometimes l feel larger
than life. Sometimes I foci crushed. And somdimes J ft>t'Ilike n
king. Sometimes I fed slow. J\ncl snmctimes J feel like a wit. But
I! most of the time I feel just like me. So I drink. ('Jle swirls IJis
II 17
I I
glass, drinks. look, at 1110111,111 2, c,os,cs to 1Jeranti 11c11ul.,
1Je, a
glass, she mot,e.) o. 011 c, cite.)
EXPLODE/BOMBS
BERf\iARD. ('Jo girlfriend, 1tloman 2.) So the flrst date we ex-
ploded together like a couple of bombs. Talked about everything!
Most exciting evening of my life! On the second date we talked
half the night away discussing our flrst date. She told me ;ill of her
insights about me. I disclosed all of mine about her. On our third
date \\.'e analyzed how we both acted on our second date-why we
both were a little tense-why we both were afraid of disappoint-
ment. On our fourth date we examined carefully a11 that had
happened on our third date-the obvious competitiveness-the
growing hostility. (Bernard crO))es D. L., 1t'oman 2 follows him.)
On our fifth date we spent the night taking apart the fourth date.
She pointed out my self pity and I promised to correct it. I pointed
out her air of domination. She promised to correct it. On our sixth
date we focused for the course of the evening on our fifth date-
our mutual anxiety-our use of self exposure to keep us from
physical contact. On our seventh date we went to a movie. I loved
it. She hated it. I never realized how insensitive she was. On our
eighth date I took her to a party. Met a marvelous girl! \V/e ex-
ploded together like two bombs. ('Jhey link mms, drink, and throw
their glasses through tbe window.) Most exciting evening of my
life! ( 'Jbey embrace, Bernard puts bi~ foot up on the barrel to
support bt1r, she is arcbed across him, ber bead to bi'i 1.. side.)
PASSIONATE PERSON
BERNARD. (P,1ssionately kisses girl/ ricnd ['Jt'oma,1 2].) Wow! I
had no idea she was such a pa~sionatc person! (A second ki.,s.)
This could be something good. I could use something good right
now. Something to build up my pride-my self-esteem-with
the rotten (')lis nw,saging of lier b,tck turns into a poundi"g.)
back-biting going on down at the office. I swear J>m not going to
stand for much more of it. I deserve some credit. Not that my
family would ever admit it. Not them! TI1ey never wait to hear my
side. ('Jl c po will 'i IJer ln,ck ,ig,iin.) Judge! Judge! Judge! Wherever
you turn ~omebody's sitting in judgement. It's just like in the movie
18
tonight when Paul Newman said to Sophia Loren- (1hey kiss
again, she breaks away.)
GIRLFRIEND. I-I'd better go in, Bernard. (She grabs key from
barrel.) I had no idea you were such a passionate person. (She
cxit'i u. L. door, Bernard crosses D. L. c. and sits on lip of stage.)
I JUST LOVE YOU
5\fan 1 and Woman 1 cross simultaneously to the bed,
they lie down, he rolls on top of her, they kiss, they
tediously free themc;elvesfrom each other, and lie doum
resting on elbows.)
WIFE (WOMAN t). You have contempt for me.
f IUSBAND (MAN 1). I love you.
WIFE. Then why do you treat me as if I'm stupid?
I 1USBAND. I love you.
\v'lr-E. But you have no interest in my opinions.
HUSBAND. I love you.
WIFE. But when your friends are around you behave as if I'm
invisible.
HUSBAND. I love you.
\'v'IFE. Then why do you act as if you don't like me?
HUSBAND. (rle .~itsup.) Who said I liked you. ('Re goes back to
oriqinal position.) I just love you. (She exits u. L. door.)
SYLVIA/DREAM GIRL
/\fan 1 sits up.
HUSBAND (MAN 1). The day I met Sylvia I was sure I had met
my dream gfr1. "Don,t think of me as your dream girl," Sylvia
warned me. "If you do I'm bound to disappoint you." But I told
all
Sylvia, "That's exactly what my dream girl would say." An~ we
got married. ('Re .~lides o. on bed.) After seven years I said to
Sylvia, "All we ever talk about is money and I've come to the con-
clusion you're not my dream girl." So I left Sylvia to think things
over. What I decided was that while Sylvia had her shortcomings
she still had a better body than all my friends' wives. When I
returned home this dumpy middle-aged woman answered the door.
19
''\"v'hcrc1s Sylvia?" J demanded. "I'm Sylvia," she said. So I threw
her out! (X11Clckingi, 11carclcoming from L. door, Jlt,m 1 backs
u. on /Jed ) I don't care how long she knocks, I'm not letting in
any strangers until the Sylvia I settled for comes home. (He puts
bi.\ l;eaclllnou~b curlaiH.)
MAKE rACES
1tlom,w t c11ler:,u. H. ,loor and crosses D. R. cautiously.
\X/If-E I go out on the street late at night-to an empty spot-
where there arc no lights-and no people-and no houses where
strangers cc1n look out their windows-and catch me. And when
I'm sure I'm absolutely alone--1 make faces. (She makes three
f,u.c,, R., c., 1.., the last face is seen by 'Bernard.Embarrassed,she
tun1s awl be9i11~to wbi.litle"'Fly me to the Jf-!oon"and exits u. n.
door. .As she exits, 5'-tcrn 1 lJcgi11sto rise on the bed, wearing a
b,11, mul ball.)
1,t1.,el>t1l1111itt,
DON 1T STARE AT ME
VOICE (BERNARD) Play Ball! (5'lm1 1 ~tandsc. on bed, Bernard
ki,cds n. c)
PITCI IER (MAN 1). Don't stare at me, buddy-boy! I c'n outstare
you any ol' day. Don't stare at me! Oh, you want to stare, do you?
\X/cll, I c'n stare too, buddy-boy (1n pitching croucb.) -50 sec-
onds-one minute-want to keep it up?
VOICE. Play Ball!
PITCI IER. I'll throw this ball as soon as that man with the bat on
his shoulder blink-.. an' not one second sooner. Try to outstare me
will you, huddy boy?
VOICE Play Ball!
PI T'CI IER. Now the umpire's staring. Well, I c'n take both you an'
your umpire friend. I ;tin't even gettin' ready to blink. Getting
awful quiet around bcrc. Even the fans are staring at me. Chicken
shit fan~! 60,000 ag:tinst t, is it? Wc11, I c 1n outstare the lot of
you! Look at 'em alt with their eyes waterin'. ('J-lestands up,
l>H11kirnJf>os1fit>r1.) \'vho they bringing out of the bullpen now? A
1 BLINDFOLD /SUNGLASSES
rdicf st;ucr? It's my Daddy! Don't make me outstarc you, Daddy!
The on<' person on this earth I don't want to have to outstare--
20
please don't make me, Daddy! All right, Daddy, I guess it had to
come to this c;ome day. (ln pitclJinq /)Clsdion t1ge1in.) I'm waitin'
old man .... Gettin 1 tired buddy-boy? ... Gettin' tired um-
1
pires? ... Gettin' tired fans? ... Gettin tired, Daddy? ...
Lookit, the moon just come out ... I think it's staring at me.
(Begins to ouhtare moon, R.)
DATE FOR 7
'1Voman 2 enters u. R. door.
GIRLFRIEND (WOMAN 2). (1o pilcher.) \'Ve had a date for
seven. You call me at five to tell me you're not sure you ll be able
1
to make it because you have to meet with your wife's lawyer. (She
crosses o. L., be moves u. R. corner of bed.) You call me at six to
tell me you 'II be able to make it after all, but you'll be delayed.
(She crosses u. L.) You caU me at 8 :00 in a whisper to tell me
you're on your way and I'm the only person in the world who
makes your life worth living. You call me at nine from a bar to
tell me you've been delayed. You show up at midnight drunk,
moaning how everybody's trying to kill you. You pass out at 12 :30
and then leave the minute you wake up in the morning, saying it's
your day to spend with the kids. Sam, I want to know what you
call this. (She sils on bed, 1Jegets off bed and moves R.)
PITCI-IER (MAN 1). Freedom.
f;RAUOS, MINE, BEAT IT
Dancer enters through window.
DANCER. Frauds! (.!Wan1 exits u. R. door, Woman 2 and 'Bernard
exit u. L. door.) Mine! Beat it! In my revised dance to 1977-I
will repeat my dances of 1976, 1975, 1974, and 1973. Nothing
else gets better, why should I? (Bernard enters u. R. door, followed
by Jvtan 1 who is wearing a military hat and carrying a pistol.
Bernard crosses to barrel and sits. .JWan1 chases Dancer off, sbe
exits u. R.)
EXECUTIONER (MAN 1). Would you like a blindfold?
PRISONER (BERNARD). Sunglasses.
21
EXECUTIONER. \'(/ould you like a cigarette?
PRISONER. A drink.
EXECUTIONER. Would you like ice?
PRISONER. Straight up (J.t,m 1 pose~ i11 execution position.)
EXECUTIONER Would you like an explanation?
PRISONER. For what?
EXECUTIONER. ( Cro.Hes towdrd Be,nard.) For why you're being
executed.
PRISONER. \'Viii it make me look in the wrong?
EXECUTIONER. It will make me look in the right.
PRISONER. If I have to be executed I'd prefer to believe it's a
miscarriage of justice.
EXECUTIONER. I really am in the right, you know.
PRISONER. I don't want to hear it.
EXECUTIONER. But you're guilty. Why should I feel guilty?
PRISONER. I won't listen. (7tfon 1 backs up, aims and fire,.
Bernard falls to floor. /\tan t cro~ses to u. R. door.)
EXECUTIONER. (Sadly.) How do you get through to them? ('.He
exits u. R.)
THEY'LL NEVER GET ME ALIVE
111oman 2 enters u. L. door, she mot,es s1Piftly, with gn',1f
urgency.
INDEPENDENT WOMAN (WOMAN '2). I married Fred so I
could be free of my mother. I had children so I could be free of
Fred. I took a job so I could be free of the children. I ran off with
the Chairman of the Board so I could be free of responsibility. I
went back to Fred so I could be free of guilt. I divorced Fred and
gave him custody so I could get a fresh start. They'll never get me
alive! (She ,foshes out u. R. door.)
I WAKE UP SINGING
J\fon 1 er1te,s u. R. door, he puts up the bed, and begins
to siug improvised ttme.
SINGING MAN (MAN 1). I wake up singing and my wife hugs
me and kisses me and begs me never to change. (1-le crosses to
22
large crate and stands on it.) I sing on the bus to work and the
passengers smile and pat me on the back. I sing at work and the
I
boss has tears in his eyes and I get a promotion. ('Re crosses to
barrel, picks it up and puts it away u. c.) I sing on the street and
a stranger puts a dime in my hand and asks how in a world full of
I
deprivation and misery are you the one man who's happy? "Who,s
happy?" I reply to the stranger. I sing to drown out my screaming. I
('Re exits u. R. door.)
NOT IN MY HOUSE
1floman 1 enters u. L. door. Bernard sees her, and begins
to rise. 'Jle says •'71-fother" and signals her to sit on large
crate, she begins to cross.
BERNARD. (She stops, he signals ber again to sit, she does, and I
be continues to speak.) Mother, when I flrst married Irene you I
said you didn't want to interfere, you just wanted to walk by our
window once a month and wave. (1-le paces.) Mother, after three
months' waving, you said you didn't want to get in the way but as
long as you were going by our window every day Irene might just I
I
once invite you to dinner. Mother, after four months' dinner, you
I
said you didn't want to run our lives but in order not to get home
so late every night Irene might, just once, invite you to stay over.
Mother, after a year's living with us, Irene said if you didn't let
!
her do some of the cooking, cleaning and shopping you'd have to
I
move out. Mother, I spoke to Irene yesterday and she wants to I
come back. I
MOTHER (WOMAN 1). Not in my house! (She exits u. R. door, I
Bernard follows.)
I
MORE SOCKS
~tan 1 enters u. L. door, carrying a lab coat folded like a I
latHtdry bag. 1t contains a blue note inside. 'J-lecros\eS.
l-1USBAND (MAN 1). I go to the laundromat to do a wash. In-
I
cluded in the wash are 8 pairs of socks. Out of the wash come 6
pairs of socks plus t gray sock and 1 blue sock. A week later I go
to the laundromat to do a wash. Included in the wash are 6 pairs
23 I
I
of sock<;. Out of the wash comes 4 pairs of socks plus 1 black sock
and I green sock. A week later I go to the laundromat to do a
wash. Included in the wash are 4 pairs of socks. Out of the wash
come 2 pairs of socks. TI1c other socks never show up. The next
day I go to the l;,undromat. As an experiment I put in nothing but
my last 2 pairs of socks. Out of the wa~h comes a body stocking.
(]fr, opens lnmclle ancl takes out note.) In the body stocking I flnd
a note. TI1c note says: "Quit trifling with the laws of nature and
bring the machine more socks." (1 le crosses u. R. and begins to
put ou llllJ <.:oat.1Voman 1 enters u. L. door and cros,es u. c.)
THE ADVOCATE
MISS BAUM (WOMAN t). I low is he, Doctor? Is there any
hope? (Jle crosses to her.)
DOCTOR (MAN t). He's out of our hands, Miss Baum. Beyond
the help of that thin book of knowledge man calls medical science.
MISS BAUM. But what can I do, Doctor? I love him!
DOCTOR. l lave you tried prayer, J\1iss Baum?
!vtISS BAUJ\1. Prayer? Di<l you say prayer?
DOCTOR. I recommend you try it, Miss Baum. \Y/e here on
earth have done all we can.
MISS BAU!\1. I-I once prayed, Doctor. A Jong time ago. \Y/hen
I had dreams. But that was before-
DOCTOR. Perhaps it's best thilt I leave you to your thoughts,
Miss Baum. ('J-le exits u. R. tloor, .,he crosses c.)
MISS BAUM. l le11o Cod. I know you haven't heard from me in a
long time, Cod. Not since before the war. A lot of water under the
bridge since then.-
Momma died in '43. A car crash. \Y/e tried to get a doctor for her.
No one would come. ·n1cn Poppa deserted U!-. and I had to take
care of Sis. I was sweet sixteen, God. Any wonder I stopped
praying?
Listen, did you know we moved from Cincinnati? In '45 I think it
was. Ycah, that's , ight, because '45 was when Leroy got me in
trouble and wouldn't marry me, so I had to go to Pennsylvania-
to this doctor.
Then for a while we lived in Cleveland. -Did I tell you about
1
Cleveland? \X cll, '-Oilll'day rrmin<l me. Any\M'ays, before Orvdiln<.1
24
we lived in Detroit. Then this mechanic got Sis in trouble, and I
had to take her to Pennsylvania.
Um- So anyways, after that we decided that we might as well
settle in Pennsylvania. And wouldn't you know it-neither one of
us got in trouble again! Isn't that the limit?
Listen, God, am I boring you? Where was I? Oh. Sis finally settled
in L.A. She married an actor-so called. I le beat her up awful,
God. He had her paying the rent and everything. She had to work
as a car hop. I was sick for a year. Sis sent me money. I spent it
on doctors. A fat lot of good they did me.
Did I tell you about the part about Leroy showing up again?
Listen, if I'm boring you just tell me--somehow. Anyways, Leroy
came back into my life in De!>Moines. He wa!>a changed man, he
said. He was a rat, God. I-le beat me up awful!
And out of the dear blue sky Bill came along. The only decent
thing's ever happened to me-a good, dean, hard-working man.
He bought us a house in Tulsa and we were doing fine. Sis moved
in with us-Bill was like a brother to her- One big happy family.
Then Bill started getting these funny pains.
We made him see a doctor. The doctor said it was nothing and we
forgot about it. But the pains came back. The doctor said it was gas
and we forgot about it. But they kept coming back. Say, will you
listen to me, God? Ain't I an awful talker?
\'I/ell, finally Sis and I put Bill in the hospital. The doctor said there
wasn't a thing to worry about. Then they took x-rays and the
doctor said he was dying. The doctor said it was out of his hands.
The doctor said all I could do was pray. So to make a long story
short, that's what I'm doing here, God.
Are you listening? I haven't been a good woman. I've sinned more
than my share. But if you do this one thing for me, whatever hap-
pened in the past, I know I'll believe again! Don't take Bill, Goel!
Bill don't deserve it! If you got to take somebody, God, don't take
Bill- Take the doctor. (SIJe exiis u. R. door.)
A DANCE TO I IOPE
Vanccr enters u. L., s11edance,.
DANCER. A d;,ncc to hope. (/\lm1 t e11tr,s l,chi11dledge, W{lfc1Jcs
11er,lm,cC'" 111ame11Imui 11Jc11
cros,e, lo bet.)
25
BOSS (MAN 1) . Look, I hate to tell you this-
DANCER. In this dance, I celebrate the spirit of renewal in the
land.
BOSS. But because of the economic downturn we've had to make
certain adjustments.
DANCER. A return to sharing.
BOSS. One of our adjustments JS you're fired. ('J-le walks ofl
through audience, R)
DANCER. (She watches him leave and begins to dance again.)
A return to dignity and self-respect.
BOSS. Say, didn't you hear me? ('Re crossec;back to ber.)
DANCER. I'm sorry, but you can't fire an artist. (She begins to
back him off.)
BOSS. But you're Ared! You're fired!
DANCER. We dance to the sound of a different employer. (She
leaps, kicking toward him, and forces him off staqe.)
BOSS. You're fired! You're fired! Stop dancing! You're fired! (As
1Jelenves he says to the audienc.e "5he's {,red." 1he dancer satisfied
that he bas gone for the last time, dances joyfully center. She
bows as the lights fade to black.)
End of Act Otte
26
ACT lWO
THE LONELY MACHINE
1n blnckout, 5\tan 1 enten and sits c. on small crate,
1tloman 1 ~,tr.,on u. R. ledge, Bernard sits 011 large crate
u. L., Dancer sits on u. L. ledge. Woman s,ts on stoop L.
NARRATOR (BERNARD). Other people always disappointed
Walter Fay.
\XIALTER (MAN 1). Traitors.
NARRATOR. Other people were always either ignoring him-
WALTER. I'm a person!
NARRATOR. Or rejecting him-
W ALTER. I'm a person!
NARRATOR. Or betraying him-
W ALTER. I'm not a person?
NARRATOR. This made Walter Fay sulk a lot:
WALTER. My problem i~ other people. By myself I get along fine
-but put me in a room with one other person-I become only
half of me. Put me in a room with two other people-I'm a tenth
of me. Put me in a room with a mob and I'm nobody! The more
people I'm with the less of me it is who's there. The more I'm
alone the more of me there is to be alone with.
NARRATOR. And so he'd regularly vow never to go out again.
WALTER. Who needs 'em? ('}le rises, crosses R. 1he />hone ri11gs,
he picks up imaginary p1Joue loct1ted on small crate, R. side.)
f-ree? Why wouldn't I he free? Is nine o'clock too early?
NARRATOR. Walter Fay wac; the kind of man who hated parties.
1
WALTER. lt c; my policy. (J le sits on small crate.)
NARRATOR. He always said:
WALTER. l11ere's no !:>uchthing as real conversation at a party.
NARRATOR. I le always said:
WALTER. I've never met a girl I liked at a party.
NARRATOR. I Ic always said:
WALTER. I really don't know why I go.
27
I
NARRATOR. ( '1f't11terc, vs er; 1.. lo 11'0111m1 2.) \Valtcr Fay regu-
larly fell in love at every party he went to . . . • I could get for myself what other people have for themselves!
LADY (\'v0l'v1AN 2). There\ no such thing as real conversation.
at a party. I've never met a m.ln I liked at a party. I really don't
know why I go.
WALTER. I love you.
NARRATOR. Eventually his love always <lii;appointcdhim-
LAOY. I'm bu~y tomorrow.
NARRATOR. Ignored him-
LADY. I'm busy the day after tomorrow.
'ARRATOR. Rejected him-
LADY. I'm bu,;y the day after the day after tomorrow.
NARRATOR. And betrayed him-
LADY. Any\, ay, you're too ~hort. (SIJc>cro5ses 1uKk lo stoop and
sits.)
NARRATOR (\VOMAr\; '2). The world h::id no time for Walter
Fay. (111,11le, c, os,e\ c.) 1 le tried to be alone but it was too hard-
\Y/ALTER. If only not being alone didn't depend on other people.
NARRATOR. 'ohody ever called him. } le alway~ had to call other
people.
\Y/ALTER. Other people nrn-.t have very small phone hills. ( Sits
011 snw11c, 11le )
NARRATOR. So one day \X1alter r:ay made a dcch,ion. If other
people didn't need him he wouldn't need other people!
\Y/ALTER. Other people arc my enemy!
NARRATOR. And that's how he saw his life up till now- A battle
between himself and his enemies! ( 11'41lte,erases u. c.) \X'hen it
was bet\, ccn himself :rnd a girl he had c:11ledit ''the battle of the
sexes."
WALTER. Ca trator. ( 'Jo 11'<)n1m1 2.)
NARRATOR. \\?hen it \\'as bet,, cen him,clf and a boss he had
called it '' class waI fa, c.''
\Y/ALTER. Fa~cist. ( To Be,11m ti.)
NAI~RATOR. \X1hen it \\'::ts ht:twren him~clf :rnd his family he had
called it "neur osi,."
\Y/ALTER. 'l\ychopaths. ( 'Jo '1110111,m 1.)
NARRATOR. \\?alter f-,y well knew that one did not oo to his
. f t:)
enemies or a i tancc- One \\'t'llt to his friends-
\V/ALTJ.:lt I'm my only friend. If only I could talk and never have
28
to listen. If only I could take and never be forced to give. If only
NARRATOR. So one day Walter Fay (11lalter exits R. door.
11/onum f r 1.ses.)went down to his basement workshop and in-
vented himself ( [nters L. door with f.onely ?ttachine, crosses o. c.
111oman 1 crosses to above R. steps.) a Lonely Machine.
WALTER. It's mine! (Sits and hugs 5Wachine, turns it to L.) It's
all mine! I never had anything that was all mine before.
NARRATOR (BERNARD). The Lonely Machine did whatever he
wanted it to do. (111,1lter and J\-1ac1Jine
cross L.) It listened to him.
le took long walks in the country with him. (Pushes and lets
J\lachine go. Jt turns and ends D. R. c. facing him.) It looked at the
stars with him. (J-le goes to ?ttachine and looks toward the stars,
1Voman 1 looks the same direction.)
WALTER. Sec the handle? ('11/oman 1 sits, 11lalter crosses u. R.
with ?ttachine and places it.)
NARRATOR. \Y/alter Fay invented it a voice so it could say nice
things-
LONELY MACI-IINE. (11/oman 1 becomes the voice of the
)llachine, only showing expression in her face. 'Jler body remains
still.) \1v'hatdo they know? You're better!
WALTER. Yeah! ('1-1/altercrosses to ,;mall crnle ,md carries it u. R.
ttext to the 5\.tachine, and sits.)
NARRATOR. There was not a need Walter Fay had that the
machine did not answer. It was a mother to him-
LONELY MACHINE. \Vhcn you're in trouble who's the only one
you can turn to?
WALTER. My Machine. ('Jlugs ?ttachine.)
NARRATOR. It was a father to him-
LONELY MACHINE. Are you sure you've made a wise decision,
my \X'altcr?
\Y/ALTER. f\1aybe you're right.
NARRATOR. It was his lovcr-
\Y/ALTER. Daic;ies! (Rises.) I love daisies!
LONELY f\1ACHINE. Machines can't afford much but you,
\Y/alter, dc!>ervethe best.
NARR ATOR. (1 (e crosc;ec;1..) For the flrst time Walter J=aycould
hr himself with another-he could let loose- I le could be
aggressive!
29

WALTER. ( Crosses R.) Argue! All you do is argue! Go to your
room!
LONELY MACHINE. Yes, Walter.
NARRATOR. He could feel self-pity.
LONELY MACI IINE. Sorry! All you fed is sorry for your~df !
Go to your room !
\Y/ALTER. ( Cros es u. L. to duor ,mil f,ices it.) Yes, Machine.
NARRATOR. He could be forgiving.
WALTER. (Crosse.~ to 5lfochi,1e.) I was wrong my ~1achine !
Wrong! Wrong!
LONELY MACHINE. I won't listen, Walter! It was I! I! I!
f\iARRATOR. Walter Fay had a relationship. lie ~welled with n
new assurance-
WALTER. ( Cros.se\ c. mid looks in inwgiua, y mi, r o, .) Do you
notice anything different about me, ~iachine?
LONELY MACHINE. You'll always he the same to me, \X'altcr-
perfect!
NARRATOR (WOMAN '2). But being perfect where he had
always been perfect wa~ not enough for \X'alter Fay.
LONELY MACHINE. You ecm strangely quiet tonight, \\latter.
Is anything bothering you?
NARRATOR. I le wanted to he perfect on enemy ground.
\Y/ALTER. I think I'll go out for a-uh-walk. (Exit, H. cf,.1c.11.)
NARRATOR (BERNARD). I le started going to parties again.
(f nte, s 1 ,foo, ,mcl 'itLmds wit I, ,mile 011 hi, {,Kt".)
LADY (DANCER). \Y/ho is that devastating man with the self-
s ti"-Aed-;mileon his face'
NARRATOR (\X'Ot\1AN 2). ( CH,,,cs to Jlt,id1i11e.)Now that he
didn't need anvbody, da<ln't can~ for anybody, he began being
invited everywhere.
\Y/ALTER. Sorry, old iachinc-dinncr out :tga:n tonight. The
Kbsinger,.
L0N[L Y ~iACl IINE. I bve a nice time. \\?:titer. Dnn't worry
;ibout me.
NARRATOR. Ill' knew the machine \\a..; hurt. But he also 1-.ncw
something else-th:tt hl' l'llJO\ed hut ting the nrnchint'. I le ,\,1,
philosophical ahout it.
\v' ALTl:R. (< h1,;5e, D. n. ,111,I tfJt:•11u. 1..) TI,at'-. lifl'. T;txi !
NARRATOR. I It· playl'd thl' nrnchine ag:-\insthi~ new f, il'nd, and
his new friend-. :ig.1instthe mclchinl'.
30
\Y/ALTER. Can't ~ce you tomorrow night, kidc;.Duty calls at home,
y'know. ( Cr os,e, lo 1(a<. hine.)
FRIE1'0S (BERNARD). Have a nice time, Walter. Don't worry
about us. (}fr .,its.)
1
. ARRATOR. But home wasn t as much fun as it used to be-
LONELY t\1ACHI~E. You're bored with me.
\Y/ALTER. Don't be foolish.
LONELY MACHINE. You have nothing to say to me anymore.
\\;!ALTER. There'c; simply nothing to say.
LONELY J\iACHINE. \~'alter, who hears the c;ecretsthat you once
told me?
\VALTER. \X'ill you kindly stop your nagging?
LONELY MACHINE. \X'alter, what was my crime? What was
my tcrrihlc crime?
\v' ALTER. I have a date! (J-lc exits R. door.)
NARRATOR. \X'alter ray started coming home later and later.
(J le slor11ly enters R. door.) He always hoped the machine would
be asleep. It never wc1s.(J le cros,es to '.iHacbine.)
\X'ALTER. Drinking ag,1in, ch? ( 1 akcs imaginary bottle aw,1y a11d
plm~e" it 011 u. R. ledc}e.)
LONELY J\1ACIIINE. I-I'm shorry, Wal'ler.
NARRATOR. The point was thc1t \'Vatter Fay needed something
when he needed it and not ,1ftcr he stopped needing it.
\X'ALTER. ( Cro,sc, D. 1..) The milchine was only a means to an
end ...
NARRATOR. Waite, F,1yexplained to himself.
\X'ALTER. It \\'as a hridge between me and other people
NARRATOR. He saw it ,1llclearly now.
\Y/ALTER Lonely m.tchines arc splendid but they have their place.
NARRATOR. \X'alter Fay h«ld outgrown his machine.
\Y/ALTER. It's nobody's fault.
NARRATOR. One d;1y he mildc an announcement . . . ('.He
cros,es lo ?Hachirn.1.)
\X'ALTER. Machine, old friend, it's not going to be easy to tell you
this.
LONI:L Y J\1AO IINE. Break my hc,ut. I've hccn expecting it.
\v' ALTER. I'm hringing a young lady to live here next week.
LONELY MACJ IINE. Break my heart. I've hcrn expecting it.
\XIALTER. I ~ee no rca,on why the three of us can't be hc1ppy
together.
31

LONELY MACJ II E. Oh, W"ltcr ! Then you still want me!
\Y/ALTER. But in the beginning-until she gets used to you-
would you mind not saying anything?
LONELY tv1ACIIINE. I've been expecting it.
NARRATOR (BERNARD). ('.Jlc cros e\ to 11/oman 2, t1Jcy meet
t.. c.) So a stranger named Mercedes came to live in the home of
Walter Fay and the machine. She was a mother to him.
MERCEDES (\'X'OMAN 2). \Vhen you're in trouble who's the
only one you can turn to?
\XIALTER. My lv1ercedes. (J lug, 1Jcr.)
NARRATOR. She was a father to him-
MERCEDES. Arc you sure you 1ve made a wise decision, my
\Vatter?
WALTER. Maybe you're right.
NARRATOR. She was his lovcr-
MERCEDES. Oh, Walter- You hurt me.
WALTER. ( Grins.) Did I really? ( Crosses to ;\lacbim.• mid sit .)
NARRATOR- (\'X'Ol\1AN2). But at odd moments v:hen l\1erccdes
,•:as out organizing a charity drive \Valter Fay would wheel out his
Lonely Machine. (He pw,1JesJHac1Jineforward.)
WALTER. So, how arc thing ?
LONELY ~1ACHINE. Not b::td.And you?
NARRATOR. But there no longer seemed to be any contact.
\XIALTER. So how arc things? So how arc thing!-i?So how arc
things?
NARRATOR. And receiving no an-wer (')le Cttl,ses rPith 5Hac1Jiuc
to o. R. and turn, it ft1ci11gR. 111onia,i t ,1'so tw 11s f,King R.) he
wheeled it into the upstairs closet and never wheeled it out again.
And there it remained until one day l\1erccdes came upon it.
(1tlommi 2 crossc to :i\Cac1Ji11c witb clot1J all{l wheels it u. c.
'1t'omm1 1 fur ti. out mJai11.)
i\.1ECEOES (\X'Ol\1AN 2). \v'altcr, what a lovely surprise! A
dressmaker's dummy! (Slic 1111 ow, cloth ooe, 5'ltlc1Ji11canti she m1cl
'Jtlalter kis,.)
NARRATOR (\X'Ot\1AN l). (1tloman 1 rises, no longer 5Hacbine.)
And she made many dresses and gave many parties and \Valter
F;,y never felt disappointed, ignored, rejected or betrayed-or any
other feeling again.
l3fockout
32
( lu l,foc;k 5H,m I exits u. R. witlJ ~frichi11e.'Jtloman 1 exit_...u. R.,
'Jtloman 2 exit· u. L. Bernard cros.,e., to L. steps and sits. Dancer
l ro,. es D. c.)
A DANCE TO SU!\1t\1ER
DANCER. A dance to summer. (SIJt.' lt1kes dow11bed, c111d )ib c.)
In this dance I celebrate becoming! Becoming a fr ecr me! A medi•
tating me. A losing weight me. A more in touch with my body
me. An eating proper foods me. An entirely new me me! (Bernard
rises arnl erO.'iSCS u. L.) Instead of the old me, dead me, rejected me,
(Disgusted.) disgusting me, fat me, compulsive me, (J1e crosses in
tow,1rd the Dancer.) ugly me, depressed me, CJ-letouches her and
JIJe crosses auwy from him to u. H. ledge aud sits.) self-hating
me, rotten sick, putrescent ('He sits u. L. on bed.)
MORNING I HATE
'1tlom,m 1 enters u. R. door.
WIFE (WOMAN 1). Mornings I hate. Going on the bus to work
I hate. Work I hate. Coming home from work I hate. Sometimes I
think .... \X1hat a relief to escape all this and get married. (She
s,ts n. c. on bed.) And then I remember ... I am married.
ROSE IN TEETH
'HJommi 2 enters u. R. door wcmimJ over blouse mul hold-
ing a ro\e in her teeth. S1Jecro\.,es o. R. Beniard ~lides D.
0~1 heel.
BERNARD. Will you marry mr.?
GIRLf-RIEND (\X'OMAN 2). \X'hy do you ask me to marry you?
(She uo,sc:s to Be,nard t111dextends 1Jc, 1Ja11d
to him.)
BER ARD. Because you've got a rose in your teeth. (Sl,c pulls
hon D. 1. ) I'm a fool for a woman who carries a rose in her teeth.
GIRLFRIEND. But what if I hurt you? (She pipots n.)
BERNARD. Oh would you? Not too much of course. But to be
hurt just a little hy a woman with a ro e in her teeth. Wow!
GIRLFRIEND. \~h;,t if I were unfaithful?
RC:RNARD. I lot <log! To have a woman with ;, rose in lwr teeth
unfaithful to me! (\lie uc>~~ei; ,mil ,l,111Cl'i 011 l,ed.) 1-1 ~omchow
never thought I'd rise to th;-it. (He kneel, below her.)
:U
GIRLFRIEND. What if I consumed you with my strange and in-
satiable appetites?
BERNARD. Oh boy! Not all at once, mind you. But a little bit at
a time by a woman with a rose in her teeth-that's more than I
ever hoped for. (She pulls IJis head away from 1Jer.)
GIRLI=RJEND. \Vhat if I took the rose out of my teeth? (She
t,1ke,;her to!ie out of ber teeth.)
BERNARD. ( Disillusioued.) Gladys! (J le exits quickly u. L.)
GIRLI:RJEND. I'll put it back, Bernard- Look, Bernard! I put it
back! (She put., rose hack m her tect/J and exits u. L. after IJim.)
FRED ASTA IRE
ftlcm 1 enters u. R. :He poke, bis beatl t1Jroug1Jdoor and
cros~cs D. L. 'Jle i., wt·ctring a top hat ,rnd carrics a cane.
'J le handles himself with confidence and case.
DANCING MAN. The one thing I should have been I'm not:
Fred Astaire. But I don't have the talent or discipline to be Freel
Astaire. So I do the next best thing. (J le tap dances L.) I tap dance
my way through life. (J-ie tap dances R.) I tap dance my way
through relationships. Around my family. CHe does a grapct,ine
.\tcp.) In and out of personal crises- At times I wish I could slow
down long enough for some Ginger Rogers to catch me. But when
one of them comes too close (1 Te uses his cane e1s,1 sword and
back, u. L.) I t:tp dance away. Sensation:tl but isolated I dance on.
11,c curse of Freel Astaire. ('Jle µips his hat, off his bead, doum bis
drm ,rntl into his 1urncf.'He exits u. L. door.)
DIAL A NUMBER
'11lommi 1, 1t1om,m 2 enter u. R. door. '11/oman1, wearing
,1 ho,pit,11 gown, n o.,ses to bed and lies down.
WOMAN PATIENT (WOMAN t). Do me a favor. Dial a
number. (1flommi 2 cros,cs to phone on wall next to u. R. ledge.)
Ask whoever :1nswersif they love me. What do they say?
NURSE (\VOMAN 2). No.
WOMAN PATIENT. Do me a favor. Dial the police. Ask them
to arrc'-t the number that doesn't love me. \'qhat do they say?
NURSE. l11ey'n: coming here to get you.
34
WOMAN PATIENT. Do me " favor. Dial my mother. Tell her
this is her fault. \X'hat docs she say?
NURSE. l kr line i, buc;y.
WOMAN PATIENT. Do me a favor. Dial my :inswering service.
Ask them the answer. What do they say?
NURSE. They don't answer. ("Woman 1 srts up.)
\VOMAN PATIENT. What are you trying to do to me? (She col-
lc1p.,es.ftfatt 1 come~ through L. door, clapping harnls as if direct mg
JIJe Dm,cer 1,ft\ up 'JVornat1 1 a11'1p11\lws her out
tri1ffil. u. R.
door. D,mcer t·xit., nf ter lier.)
WIN
\VOMAN (WOMAN 2). ('Very impressed.) What do you do?
(~fot1 1 pills up bed.)
BOSS (MAN t). ('Very cold.) Win.
WOMAN. I mean what line of work .1re you in? (She hacks c.)
BOSS. Winning.
WOMAN. Well, what do you do to relax?
BOSS. Win.
WOMAN. I mean what do you most like to do with your wife?
BOSS. Win.
WOMAN. What do you do for fun with your kids? (She backs
u. L.)
BOSS. Win.
\'qOMAN. When you go off on vacation what do you do?
BOSS. Win.
WOMAN. (Dubious.) What in life do you fear the most?
BOSS. Fear?
WOMAN. Have you never known the emotion of fear?
BOSS. Emotion? (Woman 2 exits u. L. door. Jr(an 1 crosses c.,
sigrrals ac; if to c1J1ldto come to him and squat~ Bernard enten
u. L. 1'chind ledge a11dc;its on r,Iatfor111uexl to stoop, looking at
hi, notchook.)
AVOID MAJOR COMMITMENTS
BOSS (MAN t). (Sc/uats.) Son, I can't tell you how sorry I am
to say this: But you're not working out. It's not your fault. When
you were born I thought you were the finest specimen of child I'd
35
~een. But I don't feel .lt home with you. I can't be myself with
you. I h«ltc spending time with you that I could spend with adults
I rnjoy. I've lo~t 5 of the best years of my life acting like a parent.
It's enough! CJle , iscs a,111pantomimes takin!/ out of his shirt a
dwck and lwncls it to the child.) So here's a check for $10,000
and a one-way bus ticket to Miami. Goodbye, Son- Avoid major
commitments. Of e fMtilomimes patting the child on the head and
exits u. R. ,loor.)
11MTHE PARENT
1 c11ten u. t.. cfo0r, s1Jc'if>Ols Bernard.
'Jt'o111,111
MOTi 11:R (WOMAN t). You don't help me. You don't try to
understand me. You're never there when I need you. You don't
p, otect me. You don't love me!
HFRNARD. But Mother- ('Jie rist•s.)
MOTi lER Mother? I'm the parent? Oh! ('J{esit'i.)
WORST MOMENT
MOTi ll~R (WOMAN t). I used to wonder how J>d stand up to
the worst mom<"ntin my life. I stood up to the depression but I
didn't think it was the worst moment in my life. I stood up to my
parents' death but I didn't think it was the worst moment in my
life. (Sin• uo5scs c.) I stood up to my husband cheating on me but
I didn't think it was the worst moment in my life. I stood up to
my children deserting me but I didn't think it was the worst
moment in my life. The worst moment in my life is when I
realized: 111is is my life. I don't know if I can stand up to it.
HOLD ME
itm1 1 er1tt.•rsu. t.. tloor, crossesc.
BOSS (MAN 1). Dolly, I ('Jt'ontan 1 ru-;hes to him and cli,1gs
,lespcrc,tdy.) ... Please let go, Dolly. You've got to let go some-
time! Love is more than mere possession. Love is giving rather than
taking. ('Jle, m lfl\' go ,irotrncl IJi,; ueck, and s1Jebegins to bend bim
36
/ l)/ w,11,I.) f-rccing rather than enslaving. Love is-oomph-please
loosen your grip, Dolly. If you're afraid to let go it means you
don't tru..,t me, if you don't trust me it means you think 1111 leave
you, (She {)11,i>cslie, he<1<l1111derIJis mm.) and if you think I'll
lec\vcyou it means you don't have .lny respect for your~elf. If you
don't have any respect for yourself then in time you'll force me to
l<>'-Cre,pcct for you. If I lose respect for you I'll want to ]eave
you- (\/,e p111sher hc11d1111dcr IJis StP('<1!er.) Argh- But with a
looq~r hold-you frt!e to go your way, I free to go mine-we'll be
so much happier. Try to see it my way, Dolly.
DOLLY. t\1c free to go my way?
BOSS. Why, ye~. (She ero.,.,esaway from IJim.)
DOLLY. That doesn't sound so bad.
BOSS. Hold me! ( Cli11qsto her. 111Ble1cko111 they exit u. R. door.
Re,11m cl er 0.s.,es lo u. L. ledge mid sits.)
131,1ekout
\XIEREWOLf.
.As liglil, Lorne up 7kna,1,d i., cliscoue,cd 1,ilti11gon the
LL 1.. •ledge, his bands positioned as if on a steering wheel,
his eyes look straight ahead.
WEREWOLF (BERNARD). One night, driving home to evening
cocktails, I was suddenly struck through the windshield by the rays
of the full moon. (] le ric.es.) And I grew body hair, pointed ears-
cloven hooves, clnd a t;iil. And I thought, "At last! It's the real me!"
(He l ros,es c.) And with fc.tr secretly mingled with delight I arrived
home-where my ,...,ifc~a:d, "Your dinner's cold-and stop looking
at me in that accusing wcty!" And my son said, "All the other
r_. 1.
d;1ddies clrc good at fixing t h ings, you ' vc got nngc, s I·1...:cc1aws.,,,
And my little girl said, "Why do I hc1vcto have the only father on
the block who's different?'' So I ate them c1llup. ('Jle takes a t1apkin
from bis pocket m1tl wipe, hi, mouth 1<1ilb ii.) Werewolves really
shoul<ln't mc1rry. ([011d b1<lckinc7,., ht•,H'tl l0111111,1 Jnm, U. R.
cloor.)
37
 RUTHIE When man does good, it's because he is good. \Vhen man does evil
it's becau~e society has made him that way."
fknwrcl c,o,'leS ltl t?. 1ioor, f>11l,'lm,111lrt1te itt fr01it of ii WERE\VOLF. Perfectly reasonable.
,rnd l,r,tee 1>imself,1!1<1i11sl
door. BOSS. I said to him, ''You're too much the pessimist, Phil. Cer-
tainly we move slowly. But if all of us in our own lives make as
\\1/l:RE\XIOLF(BERNARD). Who's there? (Kt1l)ckitty tops.) good a job of it as we can-as parents, as teachers, as business
A VOICE (WO 1AN 2). ( :Thro1H/1J £loot.) Ruthie. men, as citizens-then little by little the world has to become a
better place to live in.
\\/EREWOLF. Ruthie \Xlho?
\VEREWOLF. Perfectly reasonable.
A VOICE. Ruthie your own true love.
\X'EREWOLF. Is it really my Ruthie: BOSS. Not according to Phil. He laughed in my face and called me
an idiot liberal.
A VOICE. Ye'>
\XIEREWOLF. How awful! What did you do?
\\1/ERE\'vOLF.Not muggers?
BOSS. What could I do? I killed him.
A VOICE No, Harvey.
WEREWOLF. Perfectly reasonable.
WEREWOLF Not the F.B.I.?
A VOICE. No, H:uvcy !
MUGGERS
\VEREWOLF It's really Ruthie who love me, stands by me, .lnd
is the one person in this world I can tru:-.t? 1f/onwn 2 enters u. R. door, crosse~ lo u. of men and
A VOICE Right, it's me, Ruthie. Open up! stands between t1Jcrn.
\X'ERE\XIOLLO Ruthie! (J le move, c, t11<.'I>. IL 11nou1 of>l.'n door
... lknwrd u. c. ay<1int
Bo)S will, cfrt1tPt1 gun bur:,ts itt, ht.1.<.f>itts LADY (\XIOMAN 2). I went out. I got mugged. I resisted. I got
wc1ll.) stabbed. After I got better I went out. I got mugged. I didn't resist.
BOSS (MAN t). One false move, Harvey, :rnd we blow your skull I got stabbed. After I got better I didn t go out. I got burglarized.
1

off. What you guys always forget is we do a great Ruthie impres-
sion. ('.He f ri.,k,; bim and cros.,es to .,nwll l rc1tc dncf sits. Ilcnwrd
~t<1ysin the ··spread E,1gle" position.)
PERFECfL Y REASONABLE
BOSS (i\1AN 1). So I said to him, ''You 're on the wrong track,
Phil. Man is not basically evil. i\1an is neither ha. ic:11lygood nor
evil."
WERE\VOLF (BERNARD). (Jfr <Irops the po~itio,i he wa~ in
anti cros,('S wil 1J lMrrel o. c. mul sits to J.Can l's t.. ~idc.) Per-
fectly rea~on:1ble.
BOSS. I said to him, "You're oversimplifying, Phil. No one denies
1
that man commits great sins. But don t just look on the dark side.
Look at the force for good he's been.,,
WEREWOLF. Perfectly reasonable.
BOSS. I said to him, ''You're overly-analytical, Phit Man doesn't
do good to alleviate some fancied sense of guilt as you think.
So I went hack out. \Xlho needs people like that in my home? (She
exits u. n. door.)
I CELEBRATE . . .
D,mcer and '11/oman1 enter u. L. door, Dancer crosses R.,
111oman 1 tand, to 1.. of door.
DANCER. ( 71JeDattCer lJct}in~ lo move from u. R. to o. L.) In this
dance I celebrate, ( 'Jhinks.) just a minute, (Sl1e crosses to u. R.,
cmd HIOt,t'S o. 1..) I celebrate ( 'Jhinks. Retw ns once more to start-
ing point, and crosses D. 1..) . . . celebrate, celebrate, celebrate, I
celebrate ... I celebrate (She leaps in air.) survival (.A gunshot
is fire ti from 1,chind u. L. door. She falls and the door swings.)
MY J=LOWERS A SELLOUT
Ber11e1rdcrosses to Dancer and drags ber to steps L., be
sits ancl re:ds her bead on hi 1, lap. J\fau t moves bm rel

38 39
 u. c., 11/oman 2 enlets u. R. doot and crosses to small
cr<1lcmill begins .staring at it. 1\tm1 t cro~ses to ber.
LADY (WOMAN 2). (St,1ri11gat invisil,le plant.) It's not growing.
BOSS (MAN 1). Of course not. Ifs winter.
LADY. But J give it love. Always before when I gave it love it grew
in winter.
BOSS. Apparently it got used to love. Now it demands something
else to grow in winter.
LADY. But what else can I give it. I give it water. I give it plant
food. I give it love. What else is there to give?
BOSS. Have you tried money?
LADY. My flower would not accept money!
BOSS. It's only a suggestion. Of course, if you're afraid to see what
would happen.
LADY. I am not afraid. I know what would happen. (Pcrntominies
mouey ) Look, flower, here's five dollars!
BOSS. It's growing! (Jt's wai~t /(•pc{ ,11/look.)
LADY. I lcrc~•sten dollars!
BOSS. Look at it grow! (Jt'., eye level, t11llook.)
LADY. Herc's one hundred dollars!
BOSS Good he,wens ! It's a tree! (Jt' s alJOve their heads, all f'i,e.)
Congratulations. Your flower has an excellent mind for business.
LADY. My flower's a seJI out. (Jttan 1 cros,es to u. R. ledge and
sits. Betnard crosses u. L., as 'Jtlomm1 1 c, os,es D. R. Dancer site; on
steps L.)
I FOUND A f-LO\X'ER
WOMAN (WOMAN 1). A flower. (711om,111t etosse.\ o. R., and
gral>'i forge nowt•, ) I found a flower!
LADY (WOMAN 2). ('11'011w11 2 c, OH«.', lo 1.. c. anti grabs small
P0tver.) I found a flower!
WOMAN. (1t'lH11,111 t crosses lo 11/ow.111 :?.) f\.1yflower is big and
beautiful and extremely robust.
LADY. That's true.
WOMAN. Your flower is dark and ungainly an<l may not live till
morning.
LADY. It certainly wilt be a struggle.
WOMAN. I love my flower for all its richness and grandeur.
40
LADY. (1Voman 2 crosses u.) I love my flower for its spiritual
values.
WOMAN. ('1t1oman t crossec;lo her.) What spiritual values?
LADY. My flower is a tragic flower. It has soul. It has poetry.
WOMAN. Just because my flower is bigger, it can't have poetry?
LADY. My flower must struggle for hourly survival. It is taken
with basics. It broods about the deep things.
WOMAN. Are you calling my flower superflcial?
LADY. (111onum 2 cro'ic;es o.) Your flower is rich and probably
has a leisure problem.
WOMAN. (Woman 1 crosses to her.) I suddenly feel like beating
your flower over the head with my flower.
LADY. My flower would die-lovingly.
WOMAN. I apologize. I have a vulgar flower. (Sbe throws her
flower u. R , 11ear~fon 1.)
LADY. My flower truly understands. ( 11Jey exchatige a glance,
1t10111a111 uos,e, u. c., 11/om,m 1 crosses to crate and sits.)
PULITZER PRIZE
1H,w t pick., up flower mul cro.,..,esto be1nnd small crate,
wit 1Jflower iu his mms.
WINNER (J\,,1J\N1). Thirty years ago I won a Pulitzer Prize for
journalism. My father said: "So what?" Three years Jater I won
the National Book Award for Fiction. My father said: "Big deal."
Five years later I won the Tony Award for Playwriting. My father
said: "When are you going to make some money?" Eight years
later I won the Academy Award for everything. My father said:
"Who needs it?" TI1irteen years later I won the Nobel Prize for
Peace. My father dropped dead. Who says you can't win 'em all?
(1bey ,ill claf>, and yell "13r,wo." .'.i\fot11 t1Jtow....11Jeflower to the
Dancer, she tatd1es it D. 1.. 5'fot1 t un11Jsthe n. :,icle of bed and
711oman 2 g,alh I.. side of heel m1<llt1la•, ii down. '11/omcm1 sit•. on
u. R. ledt/e, ftf<1111 .sits on 1JedH. c., Dm1c;cr sits on bed c. '11/oman
2 sits on u. L. ledge, Bernanl '>ih 011 fo,gc c,,,tc. 1Vhe11eueryone ;..,
in place ftf,m I rl1ises his arnis lo silcuc;e 11Jem.)
TORPOR
DANCER. A <lance to summer. ( Dm,cct l 1etu1" forward ancl bit.,
goes iuto po5ilions
1Jer 11ead011 11,el)(?d. [r,eryo11e \111111lt,u1eously
41
 history exam. Joey can't seem to come up with an answer to Ques-
of to, (>or. 'JIJc Dt1nce consi,ts of illustrating the words, between
tion 5. I le looks out the window. I le picks at a nail. I fe looks over
1011g p,111S<.'S.)
In thb dance I celebrate torpor. Sitting around.
at the other kids-an<l wtlit a minute-is he? Yes, he is! I Jc picks
Lying around. Getting a tan. Turning over. Th~nk God for Art.
up his pen!" And even after I got out of school: -"The super-
visor is looking over Joey's shoulder. Joey pretend1i to be busy.
LIFE AFTER DEA Tl I
The supervisor has found a mistake. Joey can't seem to listen.
The supervisor asks Joey if he understands. Joey i.,ays he does. Joey
5\fon and 1tJom,rn sittinq. She stays rrr smne position, be
stares out the window. TI1c supervisor moves on---" I even an-
looks at her occasionally.
nounced my way through my marriage: -"Joey has nothing to
say. Joey ·s wife has nothing to say. Joey's father-in-law says isn't
MAN (MAN 1). (After long pause.) Do you believe in life after
it time you were making serious plans, Joey? Joey digs a toe into
death?
the carpet and stares out the window. Jucy's little boy says, 'Fix it,
WOMAN (\"qOMAN 1). ([ouq pause.) \Vhat do you calJ thi~?
O:tddy'." And so it goes. From early morning to late at night. Even
( Rernarcl cro'i_'ie5to steps r.. and sits. Dancer cro,,cs u. L. next to
when I'm in bed: -"Joey pounds his pillow. I le doses one eye.
tfoor mul s-,ts-.)
l Jc closes the other. I le feels sleep coming. It's coming-. Joey's
EITHER-OR wide awake. Joey sneaks downstairs and makes himself a drink-
Joey wants to scream."
1Voman 1 sealetl ott u. R. 1edt7<'th,01111ho11t
piece.
DONE WIT} I DOROTHY
WOMAN (WOMAN 1). Either- Or. That' my life. Either I
love people. Or I hate them. Either I'm obses$ed by work. Or I'm
Wonum 1 is sc,1tcd on LL H. ledge throughout piece.
bored. Either I talk too much. Or I'm mute. Either I'm overly
aggressive. Or I'm passive. Either I'm compassionate. Or I'm a cold
PILL LADY (WOMAN 1). Every morning before Joey cou]d see
fish. If I don't train myself out of this minuless extremism. J'll kill
myselj, me dead and hlowsy I dragged out of bed and took 100 mg. of
spcmoclagulate-which gave me energy through breakfast-when
JOEY \'q ANTS TO SCREA/\1 I fell into a suicidal depression, taking for it 250 mg. of pheno-
apthc1mine-so I'd be cheerful when Joey made his late afternoon
( 'Jlns- ,cct1e ,~ 0/)tio,1,1I.) J\(11n t is ,eated u. R. on l>cti phone call-after which I fell into a suicidal depression until just
t1no11gho11t p1e1.e. before dinner time-when I had two martinis in order to be viva-
cious when Joey got home from work-af tcr which I hid in the
JOF.Y (MAN 1). It started when I was a little kid and I was play- kitchen with a suicidal depression until I() :30-whcn I took 500
ing ball an<l I was in a tight spot-so in ·idc my head I began mg. of diphctocainc which made me alert at hcdtimc when Joey
announcing my way through the hall gam<.': -''O.K. The count is discussed his day at the offke-aftcr which I took 750 mg. of
three and two. Joey steps off the mound. Digs a toe into the di, t. osculavenol and ,)lept soundly through the night. This morning I
O.K.- He's back in now. He checks the runners. I k's into the woke up, drnggcd myself to the bathroom-and found that I was
windup. An<l here's the pitch-" From that point on, inside my all out of everything. When Joey came down for breakfast he
head I announced my way through everything! School for instance: scr<'amcd: "Who arc you and what have you done with Dorothy?"
-''The old second hand is ticking away, three minute" to go in the (Jl-tm, t cxiti; tr. H. tloot, mul leti; door \Winq.)

42 43
 MY FATHER MAN IS
Bernard wc1tche.\door swing, cros"e~ o. c. 011 bed and sits. Jltan 1 enters u. R. door and crosses o. R.

BERNARD. I grew up to have my father's looks-my father's BOSS (MAN 1). (Officiously.) Man. (Bernard rises.)
speech patterns-my father's posture-my father's walk-my BERNARD. Man.
father•s opinions-and my mother's contempt for my father. BOSS. Man is.
BERNARD. Man is.
VIOLENCE BOSS. Man is imitative.
BERNARD. Man is imitative.
'1Vommt 2 crosse., lo Bernard ,rnd sits o. 1.. on bed next to BOSS. That's what I said. ('He crosses to bed R.)
him. Dancer mot1e, to large crate and sits. BERNARD. lbat's what I said. (Bernard c, osses to bed L.)
BOSS. You prove my point.
GIRLFRIEND (WOMAN 2). So you see, dear Bernard, while I BERNARD. You prove my point.
think you're sweet and kind and good-I can never love you. BOSS. Man. ('He gets up on bed.)
(Ber11ard slaps her across face, and crosses away Jrom her.) BERNARD. Man. (Bernard gets up on bed.)
Bernard, you hit me. BOSS. Man is.
BERNARD. Yes I did! \X'ant to sec me do it again? BERNARD. Man is.
GIRLFRIEND. But Bernard, that's so unlike you. You're not BOSS. Man is violent. ( 1urning and choking Bernard, he over-
violent. comes him and pushes him down on bed.)
BERNARD. (1{e crosses towm d her.) No, Pm not violent and BERNARD. tv1an is vio- ('He is pusbed head first partly out win-
where has it gotten me? It's gotten me to be sweet, kind and good! dow by 5'-fon t. 5'-tan 1 tben puts up bed.)
Want to get hit again? BOSS. Man. Man is. Man is isolated. ('He exits u. R. door.)
GIRLFRIEND. But what's wrong with being sweet, kind and good?
BERNARD. I'll tell you what's wrong-I'm being swallowed alive. SKY SO BLUE
I'm the slave of my sweetness, my kindness and my goodness! Boy,
do I feel like smacking you! (He puts his hands up threatening to 11loman 2 is still kneeling o. L.
bit her.)
GIRLFRIEND. But what does hitting solve? (She kneels on bed.) \X'OMAN (WOMAN 2). On rare occasions the dJy is so beautiful
BERNARD. What docs solving solve. Nothing solves nothing so the sky is so blue-,the trees are so green, the fields are so golden,
what's wrong with hitting! That's my philosophy. Stand still-I my children arc so dear, that all I can think of is dying. (She exits
th:nk J>IIpunch you. ('Jle erosses to he,, mul f1rabs 1Jer.) u. L. door.)
GIRLFRIEND. (Smc1ck~him on the mm.) I warn you buster-you
lily a hand on me, I'11knock your teeth out. Ole hits her arm, sbe A DANCE TO GETTING ON WITH IT
bib bim back, be hits 1,e, ag,1in, she pivots off bed and pushes him
down, be bit, her knee, she falls to floor, he follows, they continue DANCER. (She cros~es c., "he dances, Bern,1rd enters and stands
hitlin4 e,Kh other o. L) itt opcni,14 1,el,ind u. L. ledge.) A dance to getting on with it! In
BERNARD. Violence. Somehow I feel c1eaner than I have in this dilncc, I ~-k the question: Is life worth dancing? And I come
months. up with two .lnswcrs. Ye~! (She croHes to large crcite and ~its.)
GIRLFRIEND. Violence. How much better than hurting you with and no. (S1,e c, osseli c. again.) I ~m thus inspired to keep on
words. '1ancing-to perfect both answers. (Sl,c: cro.,ses u. R., s1,e dmices
44 45
"yes" and sits on ledge "no." Sbe repeats this, and then crosses
and stancls below stage level on lip R., continuing to dance.)
Ending
Bernard crosses to bed and takes it down.
BERNARD. I live inside a shell. That is inside a wall.
MOTHER (\VOMAN 1). (Off stage.) Bernard! ('J-le gets under
bed.)
BERNARD.That is inside a fort.
MOTHER. Bernard! (£ooks through R. door.)
GIRLFRIEND (WOMAN 2). (Offstage.) Bernard!
BERNARD.That is inside a tunnel.
MOTHER. (Offstage.) Bernard!
GIRLFRIEND. (£ooks through L. door.) Bernard!
DANCER. (S11ecrosses c. and stands on bed.) Bernard!
BERNARD.That is under the sea.
MOTHER. Bernard! (Sbe enters R. and crosses to o. R. corner of
bed, looking for Bernard.)
GIRLFRIEND. Bernard! (Sbe enters L. and cro~ses to L.
ing for Bernard.)
DANCER. Bernard! (She looks for Bernard.)
BOSS (MAN 1). Bernard! ('J-le enters R. and crosses R., looking
for Bernard. All look in different directions.)
BERNARD. Where I am safe from you. If you really loved me,
you'd find me.
Blackout
A NOTE ON SCENE DESIGN
Mounted on the back wall above the functional part of the set were
various types of doors and shutters all of which gave appearance of
coming from old buildings (as opposed to modern), probably found at a
dump or demolition site. Far u. R. and u. L. were small ledges (built in)
u. R. and u. L. were two swinging doors. u. c. was a bed with a window
and curtain that could be folded up and became flush with set. It
latched in place. Below the bed u. c. was a storage area for crates when
not in use. Three crates functioned as chairs, moving from location to
location when needed. One crate was a large square shape with foam
rubber padding inside for the dancer. Another was a small rectangular
crate (i.e. like soft drinks used to come in). The other was a small
round barrel. In addition there was a small built-in stoop u. (See scene
design) painted grey. The entire set was painted tones of off-white
except for the platform and the top of the bed, which were deep rust-
brown, and some bordering boards which were grey. The platform
(stage area) was T-shaped with a step on either side.
(i.e.)
c., look-
I STEP STEP I

THE END

PRF.5ET Acr ONE PRESET Acr Two

Red down Lar~e crate u. L. helow ledge
Lar~e crate o. R. Small crate c.
Small crate u. c. stored Barrel u. c. stored
Barrel u. L.
47
46
 PHOPEJfl Y LIST

Ac, 0:--11:

7>,e,et •
.. lf-=-'-f- Phone recci"er and ord hung u. R., next to ledge (permanent)
z:::,
., Carton with hrown, blue, red, hrov,n paper h.igs in it, u. R. (R. of ledge)
:z:
~
(hags mu t fh one in<-ideanother)
u
C Red down
•
Large crate ct on its side (opening u.) u. R.
Barrel n. r..
w
...
C Small crate u. L. c. stored
..._
C
w
%

.., .J
u .J
Off,tage·
CW
Green hirt hox ("Chri tmas Present''), \X1oman 1 enters R. door
...
z •
-' 0
~
z:,
z
Quilt (" I Read A Book"), \Voman 1 enters through window
:, z - ... -'
2 W
z
u t-
2 plastic glas cs that fit inside each other and hotel key ("Before Any-
--1++-iH ·--- •
•--'i:!g..__
__ --HQ,I~
!? -
-
0
.c;
Q
«ir:
t~
C ,.. thing Happens"), \X1oman 1 carries glasses, M.1n 1 with key, enters
~ ~..Jwm
...
:'.j
.., 0 ~ 7. L. door
~Xa:2
a ~ t; t-.1itt, baseball cap, hasehall ("Don't Stare At 1\tte''), must he helped to
::,
00
.., 0 put on things hy another actor (after "Sylvia/Dreamgirl") Man t
Z IC
0~ Military hat, starters pistol ("Blindfold Sunglasses"), t,..1an 1 enters R.
..,
iii
a Lab coat folded with hluc note inside am1s tied (" ,\.1ore Socks"), Man
1 enters L.
Raincoat and blue purse C'TI1e Advocate''), Woman I enters L.
Notebook ("And What Did f Say Next")

Ac:, Two

Preset:
Purple cloth on steps 1..
One large yellow mum n. R. hole (silk)
One !irnall beige flower u. ,.. c. hole (silk)
Small crate R. c.
Large crate u. ,..
Barrel u. L. c. stored

Of/,tage:
"The Lonely Machine" hy door L.
Rose and over-hlou e ("Rose In Teeth"), \X1oman 2 enters 1<.

48 49
Top h:-it and cane (''Fred Astaire"), Man 1 enters R.
Hospital µO\vn, \'Voman 1 enters R. ("Dial A Number")
White napkin ("Werewolf") Bernard must take before entranle of
"Avoid Major Commitments'' COSTUME PLOT
Dummy gun (Ruthie"), Man I enters R.
Starter's pistol ("I Celebrate Survival"), shot by Woman 2 off L. MAN 1:
Class in window R. ("Joey Wants To Scream''), Man 1 Grey V-neck sweater
Grey wool pants
Blue and white pin-striped shirt
Black loafers
Lab coat ("The Advocate")
Military hat ("Blindfold/Sunglasses")
Blacktop hat ("Fred Astaire")

WOMAN 1:
Navy blue gabardine slacks
Navy blue cardigan sweater
White knit tie blouse
Red button down knit vest
Blue raincoat and blue purse ("The Advocate'')
Blue shoes
Hospital gown ("Dial A Numher")

BERNARD.
Beige corduroy jacket
Red and white pin-striped shirt
Maroon tie
Khaki pants
Desert boots
Blue argyle socks

WOMAN 2:
Lavender turtle neck sweater
Purple knit skirt
Patterned wide belt
Black high boots
Flowered overblouse ("Rose In Teeth")
Green Beads (Act I)

DANCER:
Black long c;)ecvcd one-piece leotard (neck to foot unitard)

50 51
 NEW

PRODUCTION NOTES !in~!~~~IN!)EC~9' I,:~o~s ~ ~.

e,
interviC'f' rs
whose a n-
Presho, ..• and intermission music was music sung hy Fred Astaire. ment. •, :w
play."_. ng
Characters are to he acted with motivation and reality, not as cartoon human
altogcth
characters. Scenes are to be played in sequence, as if in a play. Black-
outs occur only where indicated. *AN' res
"The Lonely Machine" was made from a dressmaker's dummy. The Lyssato :>a
base and the neck were removed, and then it was padded with foam scandal _dy
Wasscrs cw
rubber. Holes were made above the chest on either side to place small Amerio irh
dials. A large meter is placed at waist, a silver faucet is placed below moral ~ 1dy
that, and another medium meter is placed below that. A small meter Wasscrs -SUD
..\,
protrudes from right side, and a key from the left. Another meter is andanr 812 F297 :r C
- craft) 6W]
placed in the middle of the ha,k. The whole thing is covered with white ISBN:~
muslin. The base is mounted on a piece of ,vood with 2 shopping cart Feiffer, Jules.
wheels on the side and a small pivotal wheel in the rear. *FUC mne-
sia that Hold me! an entertainment S,she
wakcs.l Central Humanities CIRC 1prro
regain I 11/04 ;. .....
heady~ ks .. .
[a]dar~ , new
play... rnzint
(4M, 3i

*TH1 nning
author on of
Irishsc Kk of
wisrfuh again
created ,e NY
1imrs 1ixing
.,. r>osr

fish
* ! to
XIN
Ir is
1ink
ihumw ian]
Houston Public Library
*S Besr
Play this
aw.i play
1 yet. nenr
FRONT APPROX. 3 HIGH REAR fully
~M.

44
 ihumw
HOLD ME!
by Jules Peiffer
2
.
E ,rher a series of sketches, skits and vignettes,
this ae11gnrru1revue peoples the stage with the engaging and
all-too-human characters made famous through the author's
renowned ~artoons. The theme is the plight of today's city
dweller, and the hang-ups, personality difficulties, identity
crises and assorted mishaps which beset those trapped in
what may begin as urban confusion but all .too often ends as
urban anguish. Staged with the utmost simplicity, and with
each performer assuming a variety of roles, the play abounds
in warmth and humor, and in the sad/funny truths that, in
the final essence, are the very stuff of life.

': .. chemicallypure, perfectlyproportioned,out of its mind and

devastatinglyfunny." -The New York Times

''ft is humor that is compoundedof the rerebraland visceral

and is exhilaratinglyfunny. " -The Hollywood Rr r
~===
"... lively,laugh-filledrevue... a joy ... " -Cue m. ~ :
co-
l -
):Iii
,,.
Also by Julcs Feiffer v,
ANOTHONY ROSE ISBN 0-8222-0523-8 ~
CARNAL KNOWLEDGE co_
I -

CRAWLING ARNOLD
and many others
co~
.....
~
--
DRAMATISTSPLAYSERVICE,INC.