A Play in One Act by Marlene Stiles
Copyright Marlene Stiles 2008

Setting: the front room of an old farmhouse, comfortably furnished with family heirlooms.

Characters: Myra, a woman in her mid sixties

LENA, her sister

MacKenzie, their young neighbor

As the lights come up, Lena seated in an armchair, reading a newspaper. Myra crosses the stage briskly, throws open a window on the far side of the set and yells outside.

MYRA

You! God! I’m calling you into court! I want you to explain yourself!

LENA

(with a sigh)
Myra, please, the neighbors already think we’re crazy.

MYRA

I don’t care what the neighbors think! They’ve got no right to be here! Building their big sprawling homes on good farm land. What did old man Jenkins think he was doing, subdividing his land like that?

LENA

He probably thought there was nothing else he could do. Ten acres isn’t enough land to farm and make a living, but it costs a fortune in taxes.

MYRA

It’s unfair, that’s what it is! It’s all unfair! (she shouts out the window again) I’m calling you down here to explain yourself!

LENA

God doesn’t owe you an explanation for the neighbors’ lawn ornaments.

MYRA

It’s not just about lawn ornaments — and don’t even get me started. I want an accounting, like in the Book of Job.

LENA

Excuse me?

MYRA

(goes to table and gestures to the family Bible)
Job demands an accounting for his suffering and God comes down to answer for it.

LENA

Would you ask God to wait until I get my dusting done?

MYRA

And how soon is that going to be?

LENA

As soon as I finish the paper.

MYRA

No! I want an answer now! I want my Shmoozie back!

LENA

Myra, we’ll get another cat. We always find another cat.

MYRA

I don’t want another cat! I want this cat, my special cat.

LENA

We live in the country. Things happen.

MYRA

That’s why I want an accounting. I want to know why things happen.

LENA

They just do.

MYRA

That’s not good enough. (yells out the window) I’m still waiting!

LENA

Please wait until I do the dusting —

MYRA

No! I want to know now. I’ve been crying for three days, ever since Shmoozie disappeared. I want to know why God wouldn’t let me have him.

LENA

I told you when Mama died that it’s not up to us to know these things.

MYRA

Why not? We’re old, Lena. Everything we need to know we should have learned by now.

LENA

Honestly, I haven’t seen you this aggravated since Mama — and then we both knew it was just a matter of time before the cancer took her. You were still so upset.

MYRA

Just because we expected it didn’t make it any easier.

LENA

No, it didn’t.

MYRA

This isn’t easy either.

LENA

(goes to Myra and puts her arm around her)
I know, Myra.

MYRA

I found that kitten half dead in the field! I bottle fed him and nursed him back to health! He wasn’t even a year old! He was just learning to play in the yard.

LENA

We know he wasn’t hit by a car. We checked all the roads.

MYRA

He still could have been. He could have been injured and crawled into a field. The foxes could have gotten him!

LENA

Now Myra, we’ll never know —

MYRA

What else could have happened? He would never leave me! He never missed breakfast — or lunch, or dinner! Or his midnight snack.

LENA

Maybe he went across the street and found a better home.

MYRA

No, Shmoozie wouldn’t leave me. The foxes must have got him. I should never have let him go outside.

LENA

He wanted to go out. He’d paw at the windows when you wouldn’t let him out. He loved chasing grasshoppers and butterflies.

MYRA

I should have kept him as a housecat. And I should never have set food scraps out for the foxes. It’s all my fault they were hanging around the yard.

LENA

Myra, you can’t blame yourself. You set out food because you felt sorry for the foxes.

MYRA

Not anymore! Darn foxes. I’m never setting food out again. I shouldn’t have encouraged them.

LENA

Any number of things could have happened. Shmoozie could have been chased up a tree. He could have fallen down a well.
(Myra sobs aloud)

LENA

I’m just trying to make you feel better.

MYRA

What’ll make me feel better is knowing why I even bothered. (goes to window) I’m still waiting for to you to tell me that! Why did I bother?

LENA

You went to all that trouble to save Shmoozie because you felt sorry for him and you couldn’t bear to see him suffer.

MYRA

I should have let him die! He was so near death anyway. What good did it do to save him just to have him torn to pieces by foxes?

LENA

You let him have a few good months, Myra. He enjoyed life. He loved sleeping in the sun and eating four meals a day and chasing butterflies.

MYRA

It was all useless in the end.

LENA

Didn’t you hear me? You gave him a few good months of life that he never would have had otherwise.

MYRA

It was a waste of time! It all came to nothing.

LENA

Fine, have it your way. If you look at everything like that, then all we do is waste time. Nothing ever amounts to anything. We shouldn’t have cared for Mama all those years. After all, she died in the end.

MYRA

That was different.

LENA

How was it different?

MYRA

We had time, a lot of time. I only had Shmoozie for a few months. I thought when I found him that he was a replacement for Matilda.

LENA

You had Matilda for twenty years, you shouldn’t complain.

MYRA

I’m not complaining. But it still wasn’t fair! She had a few more good years — if that car hadn’t hit her. Darn worthless neighbors! (goes to window) DARN YOU ANYWAY!

LENA

We don’t know that it was the neighbors who hit her.

MYRA

It’s still their fault there’s so much traffic on the road. There wasn’t any traffic on the road when we were growing up.

LENA

There’s more traffic everywhere. The world’s a busier place.

MYRA

It was also the neighbor’s fault we couldn’t find her. They threw her away like she was so much rubbish! If we hadn’t gone door to door with a picture we would never gave given her a proper burial.

LENA

They didn’t know she was your special cat.

MYRA

When Mama died, Matilda let me hold her and cry until I couldn’t cry anymore.

LENA

I cried into her little fur coat too. She never seemed to mind.

MYRA

She shouldn’t have been killed — not like that. And then I found Shmoozie. I thought that was God’s way of making it all right. But now Shmoozie’s gone! (goes to window and yells out) I’m really really angry!

LENA

You can’t be angry with God.

MYRA

Why not?

LENA

It won’t do any good.

MYRA

It did for Job.

LENA

Not really. He didn’t get a straight answer.

MYRA

But he got everything back.

LENA

That’s because he didn’t curse God for everything that happened to him.

MYRA

I’m not cursing. Mama taught us not to curse.

LENA

He didn’t yell out the window either.

MYRA

He was sitting on an ash heap. He didn’t have a window.

LENA

That’s beside the point, Myra. He was long suffering, as you should be.

MYRA

You don’t think we both suffered enough? First losing Papa, then Mama, then Mathilda and Shmoozie… We lost Annie too.

LENA

We never really had Annie.

MYRA

I’m sorry, Lena, I shouldn’t have brought it up.

LENA

It’s OK. She was my twin but I never knew her.

MYRA

That’s something else we should be mad about.

LENA

I’m not mad. I just wonder sometimes why I got to live and she didn’t.

MYRA

It isn’t fair.

LENA

That’s how I keep from being mad, Myra. I remind myself that life isn’t fair. It’s up to us to bring what justice we can into this world, but there are no guarantees.

MYRA

That’s easy for you to say. You got to live and Annie didn’t.

LENA

That was hurtful, Myra. Don’t you think I feel guilty that Annie can’t share my life?

MYRA

I didn’t think you thought about her.

LENA

Well I do. I think about her every day. I wonder if we would have been identical twins and if we would have done everything together.

MYRA

You and I do everything together.

LENA

I know, it’s almost the same. Anyway, if Annie hadn’t died, you might never have been born. But Mama wanted another baby to replace her.

MYRA

You’re just saying that because you’re mad at me for being mad at God.

LENA

No, Mama told me before she died. It made me realize there was a reason why I didn’t have a twin. If Annie had lived, I wouldn’t have you.

MYRA

Now you’re making me feel guilty.

LENA

I just want you to know that some good can come out of a bad situation.

MYRA

I can’t see what good it did to lose Shmoozie.

LENA

Maybe we’ll have to wait and see. Why don’t you close the window, Myra? We don’t really want God to come down until we’ve had a chance to clean house.

MYRA

You’re just worried about what the neighbors will think.

LENA

They’re probably thinking, when are those two dingbats going to die and leave their land to their nephew so there’ll be a modern subdivision on this side of the street.

MYRA

Donnie promised he wouldn’t subdivide the land!

LENA

You had no right to make him promise that, Myra. I told him as much.

MYRA

You had no right to undermine my promise!

LENA

Donnie won’t be able to do anything else with our ten acres!

MYRA

Harold will keep renting it to grow alfalfa.

LENA

It’s hardly worth Harold’s while. He’s doing it as a favor for us.

MYRA

You’re just saying that to be mean!

LENA

I’m sorry, Myra, but that’s what Harold told me. He’ll keep the acreage in alfalfa as long as we want to live here.

MYRA

Well of course we want to live here! Where else would we live?

LENA

We might move into a townhouse and let someone else take care of the yard. You could get another cat and this time we’ll get it declawed and keep it as a housecat.

MYRA

I don’t want to leave! This is the only home we’ve ever known!

LENA

There’s too much acreage and we’re overrun with foxes. We don’t even have a view of the mountains ever since they built that subdivision across the street.

MYRA

I don’t believe this! You’re worse than God!

LENA

I’m being realistic.

MYRA

You’re just plain mean. You’re taking away all the joy in life.

LENA

What joy? You’re mad at the universe.

MYRA

I’m not mad at the universe. My anger is very directed. (goes to window)

LENA

You don’t have to shout out the window again to prove your point.

MYRA

I love this house and I love the alfalfa fields when they’re full of butterflies. I love it when Harold cuts the alfalfa and you can smell the green. I love the smell of blue before a rain.

LENA

So do I, Myra. It makes life all the more special to know we have so much wonderment for just this little time.

MYRA

That does it! I’m writing Donnie out of the will.

LENA

What good will that do? We can’t turn back the time to the days when there were small truck farms all over the Mesa. We should cherish the moments that we do have left so that when we have to leave, we’ll have no regrets.

MYRA

How can you say that? We grew up in this house! You were almost married here.

LENA

I gave the dress away to Goodwill years ago. But by the time I realized I had to stop waiting, it was too late.

MYRA

I always admired you for waiting all those years, Lena.

LENA

What’s to admire? I had a nervous breakdown when Tom was reported missing in action. I don’t remember recovering, but I suppose I did. I finally gave the wedding dress away and here we are, years later, still expecting something to happen.

MYRA

I always wondered why you weren’t mad… about Tom, I mean.

LENA

I guess I was too crazy to be mad. And now… I still have Tom in my memory and I can see him every time I close my eyes.

MYRA

I used to pray they’d find his remains in the jungle so you’d have some peace of mind. God didn’t listen to me then either.

LENA

I have come to peace with Tom’s plane being shot down, so maybe God did listen and we didn’t notice.

MYRA

God sure isn’t listening now.

LENA

Are you even listening to yourself? You’re angry about a cat! A cat, Myra — and don’t tell me again that it was your special cat.

MYRA

It’s just that losing Shmoozie is the final straw! We’ve lost everyone we ever cared about! And once we’re gone, our home will be swallowed up in a subdivision. I can’t take it anymore! I want to know why I bother to get up in the morning!

LENA

Because morning is morning, and it smells fresh and green. Because of you there’s always coffee ready when I get up. Because you feed them, the foxes don’t go after the neighbor’s bantee chickens. Because you’re here, the butterflies still dance over the alfalfa fields.

MYRA

Don’t ever leave me, Lena, I couldn’t bear it!

LENA

I don’t think we have much choice about that. We just have to find what joy we can in this life so we can face the hard times —

MYRA

No! I don’t want to face anything anymore !(yells out the window) I want a full accounting and I want it now!
(they hear a knock on the door)

MYRA

Oh my God he’s here! God’s here!

LENA

Don’t be silly.

MYRA

Then you answer the door.

LENA

Me? You’re the one who called Him!

MACKENZIE

(calling and knocking)
Hello! Is anybody home?

MYRA

Why are we saying ‘Him’ when God sounds like a little girl?
(Lena answers the door)

MACKENZIE

Hello, I’m MacKenzie. I live across the street.

MYRA

Oh yes, the house with the pink flamingoes.

LENA

Myra!

MACKENZIE

(holds out a box)
We found a cat locked up in our garage and my brother thinks maybe it’s your cat. He thinks he’s seen it in your yard —

MYRA

(opens box)
Shmoozie! Oh my God, it’s Shmoozie! Shmoozie’s home!

MACKENZIE

I’m really sorry. We were gone all weekend and he must have snuck into the garage Friday night. We didn’t find him until we got home.

MYRA

Shmoozie! Shmoozie! Shmoozie! You’ve come back to me!

LENA

Thank you so much, Mackenzie, that’s her favorite cat.

MACKENZIE

I’m really sorry.

LENA

It’s OK. We’re just delighted to have Shmoozie back.

MYRA

Say, do you like brownies?

MACKENZIE

I guess so.

MYRA

I have a batch of brownies in the kitchen with real fudge icing! It’s my mother’s recipe. You’ve got to have some.

MACKENZIE

Oh that’s OK.

LENA

If you don’t take some now, she’ll bring them over later.

MYRA

And Shmoozie! You must be hungry. You’ve got ten — no twelve meals to make up.

(she and MacKenzie exit to the kitchen)

LENA

(goes to window)
I guess you don’t need to come down here after all. Thanks anyway. (closes window and returns to her chair) I guess there’s no reason to dust.(opens her paper)

Blackout

(note: play can also be performed as reader’s theatre. A description of the setting would suffice to set the stage for “Theatre of the Imagination.”)