Ten Minutes 'Till Curtain


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This is a ten minute play I am working on.  Spelling and such is totally off but that is how this ship sails.  

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Chapter 1

Here is a 5 min. ? play. all rights reserved. 

Ten Minutes ‘Till Curtain

By C.C. Farmer

Dedicated to my friend Katie, who’s loved me through medication on and off, but always.


Philomena- Mena is a vivacious woman who has lived like she is going to die tomorrow (or wanted to.) 

George-  The man in her dressing room.

Wendy-  The friend who wants to ask Mena’s opinion on some issues.

Voice/ stage crew- Calls out the countdown till curtain.

Two people enter.  We are very glad to have you for this valintines day program.  It’s not often we can get someone as famous as the great Philomina Jane George.

Just call me Mina.  Here is the computer information for the back drop slides.  Here is the paper with the information on how to find it.  My agent already has the books in your forier. And everything else is up here in this wonderful world of mine.  My friend Wendy will be here soon.  She is a nevous pessimist. Can’t miss her.”

Hope it is  soon.  “Checking her script”.  Right now we have Julie Losch Doetery talking about the romance market and writing historicals.

Ah the kilt writer.  Will have to remember that.   Kilts should make a comeback in fashion.

Oh. K…anyways I will let you know when it is your turn

Suitcase on wheels.  Sachel.  Of papers.  Woman marches in. No nonsence.  Plops things down.  Stretches.  Rolls the suitcase close to a table.

Look at this fox hole they call back stage dressing room. That must be Doehtery;s stuff there.  Got a few minuetes before my book talk/ signing.  Think I need company.  Opens the suitcase and pulls out a bottle of Plymoth Sloe Gin Fizz and two glasses.  Pauses and looks out at audience.

Hemmingway folks.  Hemmingway.

Now that I have this.  I might as well take out paper work I need to get done.  Shock of the year, I got mail that isn’t telling me that I have won a million dollars but they need a thousand for handling fees.  Bill for my post office box.  Bill and lab work for my mammogram, and other self inflicted torture.    Puts them down and grabs the Drinks down the one glass fast. 

Whew.  This book talk is going to be exciting! 

Looks at audience

Rat Pack- Sinatra, Martin, Davis,  Lawford and… and .. Bishop.  That’s right Bishop.  Havn’t had much time to deal with a Bishop. As Wendy will remind me when she gets here.  That woman is screwed too tight.  Religion, no drinking, no cigerates.  Gosh the only vice she has is sex.  I don’t know her kid or grandkid count.  I really need to drop that woman.   Was just reading 8 people you should drop in the plane to Wendy’s little hometown.  Only here as a favor to her.  She drives me crazy, always asking about my health and if I am ready for retirement.    Grrr. I need someone who can make me laugh.

Turns and looks behind her “Jefferey George you better get out here before I drink your drink.” 

Voice calls in “How do you want me gorgeous? Fatigues, Bell bottoms or your favorite?”

Mena laughs. ” Jeffrey George we don’t have time for that. I have a friend coming for an interview.  Keep it simple but something”

JG enters he a young man in a  dressing gown, with a white undershirt (of course c.c. imagined a 6 pack gorgeous man) with Vietnam army pants showing underneath.

“Will this do sweet heart?”

“It will have to until I get back to the hotel and my graphic tablet.”

“Promises, promises.”

She shushes him in a flirty way. We are not alone.  See them?

They can see me?

It would be waste if they couldn’t.

Turns to the audience

Noona romance.   Google it.

JG- Should I start purring?

No sweets.  That’s me.   

Que knock.  Door opens and a nervous woman enters.

Mina may I come in?

Yes Wendy.  How are you?

I want to thank you for taking time to for this interview.  I am coming from another meeting and am a little discombobulated.  She lays a bag with papers every where and she is completely shaking.   And then her papers fall and some of Mina’s drop.  Mina helps and picks up her stuff but Wendy grabs the one envelope from her.

That’s mine. Don’t look.  These are your papers. backs away from the nervous woman and glances longingly at the chair beside her.

Do you think she will sit on my lap?

Move It.

W- I’m moving it.  Wait a second is this cigarettes?  Your still smoking.

Not so much.  My favorite brand discontinued.

Your still smoking!  At your age!

Our age sweetheart.

Don’t sweetheart me. I’m going to throw these nasty vile things away.  Wait. I can’t throw them away in here.  You would just dig them out.  Eww Gross. I will go throw them away right now!  Some where you can’t ever find them… She exits. JG sits down.

I think she needs a smoke.

Or a drink.  Bends over and picks up paper. Oh look she took my lab report and left me hers… Rub my shoulders while I do vile nasty things………

Things change.  She waves the man away.  She get’s up hurriedly finds her paper and puts Wendy’s back.

Then she corked the bottle and put her empty drink away.  She slid his drink over to her

Hey aren’t we going to have our 7 pm nightly drink together?

How long have we been doing a 7 pm drink?

7 pm drink? Wendy enters.  Oh yes It has been a while.  I think it was 1968 when your fiancé went to war.

Yes we had an agreement that everynight at seven if we couldn’t talk on the phone we would drink. Be it water, your mom’s ice tea or sloe gin fizz.  His favorite.

Looks at the audience

Good English Gin.

I suppose you do that in rembereance of him.

J.G.- Gosh the woman has me six feet under.

Jeffrey’s body was never found.

JG-Oh that’s right.  That’s in the next book your working on.  You better make it a Forest Gump type of ending.

It’s not going to be a Forest Gump Type Ending.

What? Your presentation. Oh your talking about the next book in the series… I can not believe that you have a whole team of artists working under you.  You have come so far.  Your ambition to become the oldest selling comic book authoress. 

Doesn’t she mean touring?

Neither of you are helping.

Neither of us?

Wendy. Dear. We creative people are eccentric. And talk to ourselves and….groan. Do you rember when your father died and your mom got a beagle and named him Fred without realizing that Fred was your father’s middle name?

Yeah, and?

And I drink Sloe Gin Fizz at 7 pm at night.

Stage hand-  Mena, knock knock.  Is that Alcohol?

This?  Mena smiles, Oh this is for medicainal purposes for Wendy.

Mrs. Smith? You’re the nervous pessimist?

Wendy drink up dear….

Wendy obediently drinks, turns her back to the stage hand and makes a face of one not accustomed to drink.

JG. She drank the whole glass!  You sure you going to drop this friend?  She has potential. 

Stage Hand: Are you ok Mrs. Smith?

Wendy- Probably not, but after the day I had who could blame me.

I didn’t think I needed to recite the rules of the place to two senior ladies.

JG- Senior, Is the stage hand really pulling out a list of do’s and don’ts?  This is better than the Beatles!

Mina- It’s ok.  We understand but it was medicine not alcohol.  Would Wendy, er Mrs. Smith ever drink? 

JS- In the letters you wrote to me she wouldn’t.

Stagehand- Of course not.  Mrs. Smith’s husband is a recovering alchololic.

Wendy- Hic. Gasp. Hic.

Mina- That explains a few things.  How much time do I have before my presentation and signings? 

Three more minuetes. 

Well thank you and I will be out shortly.  Waves him cheerfully off and turns and looks at her friend.  JG comes over and stands beside her.

You know Mina dearest.  Based on that lab paper, her drinking potential, and both your ages.  I would suggest that you rethink the whole 8 reasons to drop the loser friend. 

You always know what I am thinking.

Wendy- really?  Because I thought I couldn’t be more clueless.  Sigh, you do force me out of my comfort zone. I was hoping that I would be able to do an article for our local paper on you but instead I find myself entertaining you.

JG- Do you think she is going to cry?  I always hated crying. 

Wendy you are the only person who knows that the series I have written is about Jeffery George, although in my books he is called Black Hawk. 

JG. I did enjoy that you made me into a pirate.

Each comic book I write and illustrate is from letters he wrote me.  After all these years, I still can’t let go of his impact in my life.

JG. Here I thought it was because I am such  a gorgeous conversationalist that you kept me around but it really is for the money you get from book sales. What a disappointment.

Anyways what I am saying is….

Curtain Call.  Ms. George.

How about after the show you come back to my hotel room and we can talk.  You order some of that Kibbles and Bait crap from that glutinfree, hmo organic superplus food joint, and we can spend the evening drinking cocunut juice and you can help me on Black Hawk’s final battle. We can have some friendly fun.”

Is it going to be a sad ending?

I’m not sure yet.  I guess it will be what ever we make it to be.

JG.  Are you seriously going to start the end of your comic book series?  How are you going to kill me off?”

She so wants to tell him a dirty, smutty answer but bites her tongue waves a finger.

Kilts.  People.  Tonight we talk about Kilts.  She turns and exits. And lights go off.

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