Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Wretch Day!
So, writers everywhere are posting free (FREE!) stories on the Internet. Here's one of mine-- it's called "Vaudeville."
Cedar Rapids, Iowa: March 5, 1907 Eloisa Moran enters first. Her blonde hair is in a neat, functional bun, and she is wearing an apron over her shirtwaist and skirt. The program says that the sketch is called, "A Young Bride's First Dinner;" apparently, we are not meant to notice that Eloisa is no longer young. "Oh, dear!" she says. "What can I do? Tom will be home any minute, and I haven't got a thing prepared!"
Tom Willoughby walks on stage, wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase and a hat. The gray in his hair suggests that he is also a little old to be playing a newlywed. Then again, standards are somewhat lower in Iowa than in New York, where Willoughby and Moran first used this script. "Hello, darling!" he says. "How glad I am to be married! I've been ready for some good, home cooking all day!"
Eloisa wails. "Look," she says, gesturing theatrically at the table. "I've been slaving all morning, and there's nothing done!"
"Don't worry, darling," says Tom. "I'll show you how." He places the hat carefully on the table. "First, we'll crack an egg into this bowl." Tom does so, neatly.
"I see," she says. "Like this?" She seizes an egg and cracks it-- directly into Tom's hat.
Tom does a double-take, and Eloisa gasps, horrified. "How can you ever forgive me?" she said. "Your nice new hat!" She clutches her hand before her eyes and sobs.
"Don't cry, sweetheart," he says, "It's all right. See?" He puts the hat on his head. Egg slime trails over his ears.
"You're such a kind man," she says. She gives the audience a wicked, wicked grin.
After several entertaining minutes, Eloisa remains neat and clean, while poor Tom is bespattered with Eloisa's mess. Nevertheless, the two of them embrace and sing a rousing version of "I Dream of a Nest with my Angel Dove."
Cleveland, Ohio: May 20, 1907 Tom sits on a bench and there is a bit of business with him looking at his watch several times. "Where can that dratted girl be?" he says. Perhaps his language is a bit strong for Cleveland. The manager makes a note of it.
Eloisa saunters on stage. "I was visiting the beautiful roses in the park," she says. She seems unusually ebullient.
"You're always late," he says.
"Yes, Mr. Willoughby, but shouldn't time fly when we're together?"
"But that's the point, Miss Moran, we're not together."
There is an uncomfortably long silence. Then Eloisa drops her purse and sits down next to him on the bench, forcing him to slide over. He looks startled. "Tom, let's skip this rotten stinking dialogue and go right to the song." She forms her hands into a megaphone, her legs crossed in an unladylike manner. "Hey, audience. You want to hear a song?"
There is scattered laughter from the audience, and a few people calling, "Yes."
Tom stands, bows to Eloisa, and helps her to her feet. She sways a little, sassily. Too much for Cleveland. They sing, "Time Means Nothing to Me." As the curtain drops, those in the front row can see that Tom is pushing up Eloisa's sleeve, and that there is a bluish, fan-shaped bruise in the crook of her elbow.
Fort Wayne, Indiana: June 18, 1907 "But they'll all say that you love me for my money, and I love you for your looks," says Tom.
Eloisa touches him genteelly on the shoulder. This is not burlesque. "But Mr. Willoughby, I think you're a fine figure of a man."
"An old man like me?"
"The distinguished gray in your hair-- it's like silver." She mimes an aside to the audience. "Like the silver I'll get for marrying you!"
"Your hair is like gold," says Tom. And it is like gold-- an even brighter gold than it was in Cedar Rapids.
"Your impressive carriage," says Eloisa. Stage whispered: "Like the horseless carriage in your garage!"
"Say you'll marry me today," says Tom, seizing her in his arms.
"Oh, yes! Lock, stock, and barrel!"
They sing, "They Call Us May and December." Perhaps this is unfair to Tom, who is a September at most. Yet Eloisa makes a vibrant May. It is only when she dramatically swirls at the end of the song that the scabbed, purple lines at the back of her knees are visible.
Amarillo, Texas: August 23, 1907 Eloisa has lost a great deal of weight. Her dress is loose at breast and hip, and too long in the hem. She sits on the bench. "Oh, dear me, where can my lover be?" she says.
Tom walks on stage warily. "Darling," he says.
A man in the front row leaps to his feet. "Cradle-robber!" he cries. "Get off the stage!" The crowd begins to throw peanut shells, cigarette packets, and balled-up programs.
Eloisa cowers into Tom's arms. Sheltering her from the worst of the debris, he escorts her offstage.
Kansas City, Missouri: January 9, 1908 A little blonde girl-- maybe six years old-- toddles onstage. "Hello," she says. She walks to the edge of the stage and looks confidingly at one of the men in the audience. "Do you know where my daddy is?"
He shakes his head.
"Oh," she says, adorably squinching up her little face, "I wish I knew where my daddy could be!"
Tom stands, in the third row. "Sweetie-lamb, what are you doing on stage? Come down from there right now!"
"Not until you sing with me!"
The audience is appreciative. They like this bit of business.
"Oh, all right," says Tom. He walks up the steps to the stage.
She looks up at him confidingly and takes his big hand in her little one. "Hi, daddy," she says.
He blinks, awkwardly, and looks over the heads of the audience at the exits. It's a little trick that makes it appear as though he is looking at all of them, though he does not care to see them at all. "What shall we sing, Eloisa?"
They sing, "I'm Going to the Happy Golden Land." The audience loves it.
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