Written 2010 – 2013 (The Play formerly known at The Dowager)
Cast of one (Female)
Originally developed in the 24/7 Lab, New York City. Workshops at Barnard College, directed by Alice Reagan, 2011 and 2012. Workshop at the Playwrights Center, 2011. Ruth Easton New Play Series Workshop at the Playwrights Center, April 2013, directed by Erik Pearson. Reading at New Dramatists: May 2013. Workshop/reading at New Dramatists – January 2014.
Tanya sits for a cat who can’t be found, and waits for a pizza that never seems to come.
I love Botho Strauss’ play “Big and Little”, wanted to capture the feeling of its first scene, its alienation, its fragmented nature, its sense of humor. I’d seen a giant trunk in another show, and got inspired to write a play with a trunk that a character could get in and out of, and which contained everything the play would need.
Indoors. A window, a door. A large trunk. A woman: Tanya.
Can you hear?
They keep talking.
Their language – so salty.
I’m tempted to stare but it wouldn’t be correct.
And besides they’re under one of those giant umbrellas, so there’s not much to see.
Lucinda said her place would be quiet. That I’d get some rest. Just mind the plants and feed the cat and get the mail and pay the bills and email me periodically with updates or any questions any questions at all and relax dear friend relax.
Where’s my pizza?
These guys. Wall Streeters perhaps. Or accountants. Or drug lords.
Talking numbers. Percentages. In between the salty stuff.
I wonder if the neighbors mind. If they’re calling the cops throwing flower pots sending nasty emails. Or maybe it’s just me. It is a holiday weekend after all, right? They could all be in the Catskills or the Hamptons or St. Moritz, wherever that is. Or watching TV. Or asleep. Usually I’m asleep by now. Early to bed and early to rise…
I did order one, didn’t I? I could’ve sworn…
She drinks wine.
Two of them.
The blurter, weirdly charming, if salty, who keeps saying things like
“Ira, there are some holy motherbleeping deals out there.”
Or “Ira, come on buddy, it’s now or never.”
Or “Do the math Ira – you won’t regret that bleep.”
And then the other one, Ira, who never names his friend
Squeaky-like – I’m imagining him short, but maybe I’m wrong, maybe he’s big and gymmed out, with a thick neck and one of those V-neck cashmere sweaters that bumps out around his pecs. Talking like: “I’d get my bleep on that.”
or “she’s got a pair of bleeps that I could snack on all night
not to mention a luscious…”
It helps some people sleep, I hear.
Others get wider awake.
One or the other would be great, but to be stuck here in between…