Characters:
All are over 75, except for Aide. Ethnicity open, unless otherwise specified.
Madge: a bit blowsy. A retired manicurist.
Fonsia: carefully preserved. Slim, trim, perfectly coiffed.
Glenna: an aging hippie chick. Snow white, uncoiffed hair. Tie dye an option. If possible, unshaved arm pits and legs
Claudia: African American. Exaggerated afro would be nice. Heavy set
Walter Lee: African American. A retired chauffeur
Larry: tattoos. A biker
Weller: in suit and tie. Buttoned up.
Aide. Young, wearing scrubs, hairnet if female.
Scene: a bus stop. There should be a sign that is an exact duplicate of the bus stop signs that exist in the town/city that the production is playing in, although wherever there’s a place for a route number it should say “O” and for a route/direction/destination, “Home.” A bench. A newspaper rack would be nice, a bus shelter even better, but hardly essential.
AT RISE: Madge is waiting for a bus. If there’s a bench, she’s sitting. Enter Glenna.
GLENNA:
Did I miss the bus?
MADGE:
What?
GLENNA:
Did I miss the bus?
MADGE:
Bus?
GLENNA:
The bus. Did I miss the fucking bus?
MADGE:
Language! Glenna, is that you?
GLENNA:
Of course it’s me. Who are you?
MADGE:
Madge. Your roommate?
GLENNA:
Oh. What are we doing out here?
MADGE:
I’m not sure. Maybe we should go in?
GLENNA:
We can’t go.
MADGE:
Why not?
GLENNA:
We’re waiting.
MADGE:
Oh. What are we waiting for? (Pause)
GLENNA:
I don’t know.
MADGE:
Then maybe we should go in.
GLENNA:
Probably a good idea. Isn’t there ice cream today?
MADGE:
I think so. Of course. There’s ice cream every day.
GLENNA:
Right. Think they’ll have vanilla?
MADGE:
I prefer strawberry. Let’s go see!
(They exit. Beat. LARRY enters, waits [or sits] at sign. After another beat, WALTER LEE enters.)
WALTER LEE: Did the bus come yet?
LARRY: I don’t think so.
WALTER LEE: Are you sure?
LARRY: Of course I’m sure.
WALTER LEE: What about?
LARRY: What about what?
WALTER LEE: What are you sure about?
LARRY: What am I sure about what?
WALTER LEE: Whatever I asked you.
LARRY: What did I ask you?
WALTER LEE: No, whatever I asked you.
LARRY: Oh. So what did you ask me?
WALTER LEE: I don’t remember.
LARRY: Did the bus come yet?
WALTER LEE: Not since I’ve been here. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.
LARRY: Where are you going?
WALTER LEE: Home.
LARRY: Home! That’s where I’m going too!
WALTER LEE: I didn’t know you were from East St. Louis.
LARRY: East St. Louis?
WALTER LEE: You said you were going to East St. Louis.
LARRY: I never said that.
WALTER LEE: You said you were going home. Home is East St. Louis.
LARRY: You’re nuts. Home is Peabody, Massachusetts.
WALTER LEE: The bus that stops here goes to East St. Louis. Not someplace in Massachusetts. Isn’t Massachusetts the place where faggots get married?
LARRY: “Faggots” is an insult. Like “nigger.”
WALTER LEE: What did you say? (He slowly rises and puts up his hands in boxing position.)
LARRY: I said, “faggots” is an insult. If you punch me for saying it’s like “nigger,” I get to punch you for saying “faggots.”
WALTER LEE: Oh. (Drops his fists, and sits.) Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult you. Didn’t know you were a faggot.
LARRY: You didn’t. I’m not a faggot. But the word is an insult to people who are. Gay, that is.
WALTER LEE: You’re not a faggot?
LARRY: (with emphasis, slowly) I’m not gay!
WALTER LEE: Who said you were? Has the bus come yet?
LARRY: Not since I’ve been here. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I’d be on my way to home. Which is in Peabody, Masschusetts.
WALTER LEE: Oh. Have you been here a long time?
LARRY: Not sure. I think so. The bus should have come by now.
WALTER LEE: Maybe it’s stopped running. Maybe we should go in. Isn’t there ice cream this afternoon?
LARRY: Ice cream! Will they have chocolate?
WALTER LEE: They always have chocolate.
LARRY: So what are we waiting for?
WALTER LEE: The bus.
LARRY: Oh.
WALTER LEE: Let’s go.
LARRY: We can’t go.
WALTER LEE: Why not?
LARRY: We’re waiting for the bus.
WALTER LEE: Oh.
LARRY: Oh. (They sit in silence for a beat.)
LARRY: Chocolate ice cream! And we’re missing it! I’m going to go in. I’ll catch the bus tomorrow.
WALTER LEE: Good idea. Let’s go. (They rise, exit.)
After a beat, FONSIA and WELLER enter. Stand at bus stop, look right, then left.
FONSIA: I don’t see any sign of the bus. Do you know what time it comes?
WELLER: I couldn’t find the schedule anyplace. It should be any time now, though. They wouldn’t keep us waiting for a long time.
FONSIA: I hope not. I’m late for my mother’s Thursday teatime. She’ll be really annoyed with me for being so late. She’ll have to find someone else to pour. I always pour.
WELLER: I always thought you were good at pouring. You handle the coffee pot with such grace at coffee hour.
FONSIA: I’ve never poured coffee in my life. We drink only tea. Usually Earl Grey. Sometimes Orange Pekoe. Never with cream or milk, of course.
WELLER: I like cream with my coffee. I like the way you ask if I want one lump or two, even though there aren’t any lumps of sugar.
FONSIA: You have to use tongs with the sugar. Never a spoon. That’s so déclassé.
WELLER: I’m getting worried about the bus. I’ve never had to wait this long before. I’m afraid I’ll miss the squash practice. Coach Federico said he’d put me on the second squad if I miss more practice.
FONSIA: I don’t care for squash. Too mealy. Or melons. Too messy. A nice baked potato is ok, as long as it doesn’t get all messy with that awful sour cream.
WELLER: Wait a minute. What time of year is it? It feels warm. Is it spring? Then I’m ok. I’m so good at Lacrosse, Coach Purdy doesn’t care if I miss practice every now and then.
FONSIA: You have to practice pouring. It takes great skill, and you have to be very careful not to splash when you add the hot water.
WELLER: I’m pretty good at swimming too, but I’m not on the team. Don’t like the chlorine in the pool, where we have to practice. And the water’s always heated. Too warm.
FONSIA: It is warm today. Why are we out here in the sun? (or, if there’s a bench:) Why are we sitting out here in the sun?
WELLER: I don’t know. I just came out here because you were coming out.
FONSIA: Oh. Then why don’t we go?
WELLER: We can’t go.
FONSIA: Why not?
WELLER: We’re waiting for the bus.
FONSIA. Oh.
(Pause)
FONSIA. Oh, I remember now. Weller said he’d escort me to the musicale. So I need to go in and find him.
WELLER: I’m Weller.
FONSIA: Then you’ll have to come in too. Otherwise I won’t find you inside, will I?
WELLER: That’s right!
(Offers FONSIA his arm. She takes it, and they exit. Beat. WALTER LEE rushes in, followed closely by CLAUDIA.)
CLAUDIA: Walter Lee! Walter Lee! Why’d you do that?
WALTER LEE: I’ve got to get to the bus! I’ll be late for work!
CLAUDIA: What are you talking about? You don’t have a job any more.
WALTER LEE: What! The Man fired me already? I’m not that late!
CLAUDIA: You haven’t been to work for five years.
WALTER LEE: Five years! Oh. No wonder he fired me. That’s a long time to wait for your car to come to the front. You still can’t trust the Man. He never called to ask where I was.
CLAUDIA: Walter Lee, don’t start in again on “The Man.” Please. I’m so sick of hearing about how “The Man” holds you down.
WALTER LEE: The Man does hold me down, Mama.
CLAUDIA: I’m not your mamma. And if The Man holds you down, what are you doing here? This retirement community’s not cheap. You have to have earned some good money when you were working to afford living here.
WALTER LEE: Oh, yeah. Mr. Arnold gave me that stock tip, then I was able to invest in the liquor store, then buy a chain of bars. Made a lot of money. Probably doesn’t really matter, since Travis has that great law firm he founded.
CLAUDIA: I’ve always admired your son. Handsome young man. And his wife is so pretty. And those precious grandchildren! Three boys, isn’t it?
WALTER LEE: And a girl. My little Lena. They named her after my mother.
CLAUDIA: That’s right. She’s so adorable! (pulls out a handkerchief and fans herself) My, it’s getting hot out here. What are we doing out here, anyway.
WALTER LEE: (Looks around.) I don’t remember. It’s a street. But there’s no traffic.
CLAUDIA: (Looking up.) There’s a bus stop sign. Are we waiting for a bus?
WALTER LEE: Why would we be waiting for a bus? Where would we go? We live here, in the Home. Don’t we?
CLAUDIA: Why are you asking me? You’re the one who wants to know.
WALTER LEE: Didn’t you want to know if we were waiting for a bus?
CLAUDIA: Well, are we? Or aren’t we?
WALTER LEE: I don’t know.
CLAUDIA: Well, if you don’t know, and I don’t know, why don’t we just go in? It’s cooler inside.
WALTER LEE: Can’t think of any reason why we shouldn’t. So let’s go in?
CLAUDIA: But are you sure we’re not waiting for the bus, so we can go home?
WALTER LEE: This is home. At least it is now. And besides, you lived in East St. Louis, I lived in Chicago. We wouldn’t be taking the same bus even if we wanted to go back to those places.
CLAUDIA: East St. Louis is on the way to Chicago. Or is it the other way around? Where are we, any way?
WALTER LEE: You don’t know, do you? Crazy old bat.
CLAUDIA: (Slugs WALTER LEE with her purse) Who you calling a bat, you old goat!
WALTER LEE: Ow! Stop that, you crazy old . . . lady!
CLAUDIA: (Slugs him again) Who you calling crazy? (Another slug) You’re older than me!
WALTER LEE: Ow! Sorry! Where did you say we were?
CLAUDIA: Calling me old! Old coot. Doesn’t even know where he is. (Slowly and with exaggerated diction.) We’re in Central Ohio. Oh-hi-oh. At the St. Carmella Methodist/Lutheran Assisted Living Community, run by the Temple Sisterhood from Gahanna. Since we’re not waiting for a bus, why don’t we go in?
WALTER LEE: Whatever you say. Just don’t hit me again.
CLAUDIA, with enormous dignity, strides off stage, followed by WALTER LEE, who rubs wherever she’s been hitting him. Pause. MADGE enters, followed by LARRY.
LARRY: Madge, I don’t know why you’re so angry at me. I didn’t mean anything.
MADGE: Sure you didn’t. Then why’d you say something like that?
LARRY: I was just making small talk.
MADGE: Small talk! I know a put down when I hear one. I’ve heard plenty. You were just sucking up to Glenna, that’s all. Trying to make her feel important. What did she ever do that was so important? I’m not ashamed that I worked in a beauty salon all my working life. It’s honest work.
LARRY: I didn’t say it wasn’t.
MADGE: You implied it. “Madge was just a manicurist. Didn’t require a lot a political involvement. Not like you, Glenna.” I heard it. You said it in front of everybody!
LARRY: It was a private conversation! You didn’t have to listen!
MADGE: Didn’t have to listen! How could I not listen? You’re as deaf as a post, and Glenna would rather die than wear hearing aids. The common area’s not all that large, any way. Everybody on the floor heard you, whether they wanted to or no. So everybody heard you put me down.
LARRY: Everybody there are deaf as posts. They didn’t hear anything.
MADGE: They way you were hollering, they’d have to dead not to hear you. Pig.
LARRY: Did you call me a pig?
MADGE: Oink, oink. Yeah. Because you are a pig. Most men are, of course, and you’re sure a prime example of piggyness.
LARRY: What did you just say?
MADGE: (slowly and loudly) Y.O.U A.R.E A P.I.G. L.I.K.E A.L.L M.E.N
LARRY: That’s what I thought you said. Listen, honey,
MADGE: Don’t you “Listen, honey,” me! You’re in trouble now, you pig!
LARRY: Oh, come on, Madge. You know I really love you. Aren’t we going to get married?
MADGE: We are? When did that happen? Do I know about this?
LARRY: Didn’t I ask you to marry me when I got here and realized I’d been picking up Rose at the beauty parlor where you worked for thirty years? I always looked forward to seeing you, and really missed you when you retired. I realized then I loved you, and was so sorry I’d never had a chance to tell you – we were both always married to other people. Then I got here, and here you were!
MADGE: Yeah, I remember now. You asked me. Took me a while to figure out who you were. But that was six months ago. I don’t see any plans being made. And we’re not getting any younger. We don’t have all that much time to waste.
LARRY: Then let’s get married. Tonight! Isn’t tonight when the rabbi comes? She can marry us.
MADGE: I’m not Jewish. I didn’t know you were Jewish.
LARRY: I’m not. But if tonight’s the rabbi’s night, then it’s a Jewish wedding.
MADGE: We can’t get married tonight, even if the rabbi does come. I don’t think this is the Jewish night. I think tonight’s that strange Universalist. I always enjoy his sermons, even if I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Always about the universe and being a mote in the eye of the Universe.
LARRY: What is a mote, anyway?
MADGE: I’m not sure. I think it’s some kind of bug. Kind of like a locust. Or maybe a praying mantis. A big praying mantis.
LARRY: Well, then the Universalist can marry us. But I thought he was a Unitarian.
MADGE: Unitarian, Universalist, whatever. It’s not a real religion anyway. Never anything about how we’ll burn in Hell for all our sins unless we really, really repent.
LARRY: That’s always puzzled me. The Pentecoastals are always talking about how we have to repent. I’ve repented thirty times now, but they still want me to repent again.
MADGE: Only thirty times? I’m up to fifty myself. They always give you more doughnuts when you repent.
LARRY: How many doughnuts do you need? But I’m sure that Pentacoastal guy’ll marry us if we ask, as long as we promise to repent a lot more.
MADGE: They’re Pentecostals, not Pentecoastals. They don’t use boats.
LARRY: Boats? Why would they use boats?
MADGE: Doesn’t matter. He can’t marry us tonight anyway. I need to get a dress and shoes. And then of course there’s the flowers.
LARRY: What for?
MADGE: You always get a dress, flowers, and shoes when you get married. Everybody knows that.
LARRY: None of my wives did all that. We just got married in whatever we had.
MADGE: How many times were you married, anyway?
LARRY: Five times. I think. Or maybe it was four. I think I married the same woman twice. Does that count as two marriages? Or one with a break?
MADGE: Two, I think.
LARRY: How many husbands have you had before?
MADGE: Three. Four if you count Otto. And I got a dress, flowers, and shoes each time. You know that blue silk suit I wear sometimes?
LARRY: The one with the stripes?
MADGE: No, of course not. The one with the stripes is made of wool. The silk suit has short sleeves.
LARRY: Oh. That one. Of course. (How convincing he is, is up to the performers and director)
MADGE: Any ways, that was the suit I wore when I married Otto.
LARRY: How long were you married to Otto?
MADGE: About twelve hours, more or less.
LARRY: Twelve hours! What happened?
MADGE: He had a heart attack on our wedding night. He was a big man. I couldn’t move until the next morning; took two men to lift him off me. Talk about embarrassing!
LARRY: Oh. Too bad he didn’t marry my third wife, Bethany. She was as big as a house. When she belched she threw me out of the bed. That was before she broke the bed. (Looks at his watch.) Oh, look, it’s almost time for Marvin’s Merry Melodies. We should go in. It’s always fun to see what he can do with that accordion.
MADGE: But I need to take the bus into town. To shop for my dress and shoes.
LARRY: Oh, there’s no great rush. We need to talk this over with our pastor.
MADGE: We don’t have a pastor. At least I don’t have a pastor. Didn’t know you had a pastor. Who is he?
LARRY: Well, I don’t really have a pastor, but you always have to talk to a pastor for guidance before you get married. We can use one of the preachers that come here. Would you rather talk to the Unitarian or Universalist, or the rabbi?
MADGE: I want to talk to a priest. A Catholic priest. They know about sin and everything.
LARRY: I’ll ask about getting a priest. There hasn’t been a regular one since Father Anselm got fired after he was caught with the candy striper. But there must be another preacher around. Seems like there’s a different one very day.
MADGE: I kind of like the Southern Baptist. Even if he does dye his hair. A jet black comb over looks really dumb.
LARRY: I’ll see when he’s coming next. Can we go see what Marvin’s up to now? I think he’s doing a John Denver medley tonight on the accordion. Or was it Elton John?
MADGE: I don’t like Elton John. Ever since he ran off with that weird Japanese woman.
LARRY: That wasn’t Elton John. It was John Mayer. He ran off with that woman who’s on all the magazines. Jennifer somebody. And she’s not Japanese. At least I don’t think she’s Japanese.
MADGE: Who’s John Mayer? Who’s Jennifer? Who cares? I think I’ll get a purple dress this time.
LARRY: You really need to read the magazines the volunteers leave. How else can you keep track of famous people? (pause. Then, slightly puzzled.) What do you want a purple dress for?
MADGE: For our wedding, of course.
LARRY: Our wedding? Oh, yeah. Our wedding. Why purple?
MADGE: Well, I can’t wear white, now, can I? And I’ve already got good dresses from my other weddings in blue and pink. So purple this time sounds good to me.
LARRY: Purple’s ok. I’ve got a purple tie I can wear.
MADGE: Good!
AIDE enters.
AIDE: Madge! Larry! You need to come in. Marvin won’t start without you, and everybody else is waiting.
LARRY: Madge? Marvin’s waiting. And we’ll miss the ice cream if we don’t hurry.
MADGE: That’s right. Will we have ice cream at the wedding? I think we should have ice cream with the cake. (Looking right and left.) Where is that bus?
LARRY: Forget the bus. Remember the ice cream. And Marvin. (Takes her arm.) Let’s go in.
MADGE: OK.
(And they exit. Aide pulls out cell phone. Punches in number.)
AIDE: Maxine? Larry and Madge are on their way in. That’s everybody. (Pause, listens.) Yeah. That was a terrific idea to put this bus stop sign up. They don’t wander off like they used to. We can always find them, waiting for the bus. What’s that noise in the background? Oh, right. Marvin’s doing “Your Body is A Wonderland.” Thank god he’s not doing Elton John, like last month. “The Bitch Is Back” on the accordion gave me nightmares for a week. (Closes cell phone, exits. Pause. Glenna runs in, looks right and left.)
GLENNA: Oh, good, I haven’t missed the bus! Now if I can just remember where I’m going . . . .
Blackout
