November 6: Oh Hello Darling!

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NOVEMBER PLAYWRITING CHALLENGE

November 6: Oh Hello, Darling. 

This quote recently appeared on my phone via the Instagram account for 365 Days of Thought

“Any day spent with you is my favorite day.” – A.A. Milne, via Winnie the Pooh

The quote was followed by the question:

Who would you spend today with if you could?

 So answer that question of who you’d spend the day with if you could,

Or who your character would spend the day with if they could.

Or, as usual, ignore me and write whatever you want.

SCENE [N]

(The setting is a playground. A young slightly effeminate boy sits on a swing. His mother stands chiding him.)

MOTHER

I just wish sometimes you would play the games the other little boys want to play.

BRIAN

I tried to play with them. I gave them scenarios to play and they didn’t want to do any of them.

MOTHER

The plot to Whatever Happened to Baby Jane is not something you reenact in the playground with the other boys.

BRIAN

It started an entire genre and gave us one of the most influential feuds in all of Hollywood History!

MOTHER

Keep this up and there will be NO MORE Ryan Murphy shows for you young man.

BRIAN

Fine, I’ll just sit here on this dumb swing and not say anything that’ll upset you.

MOTHER

THANK YOU. I’m going to go over and have a cigarette, keep up the butch…I mean good work. 

(She exits)

BRIAN

I wish my life were something out of a mid century movie. 

(Auntie LANE enters, a children’s imaginary friend in the style of Auntie Mame.)

LANE

Darling! There you are!

BRIAN

Who me? 

LANE

Is there another handsomely dashing young fellow somewhere around that I’m not seeing?

BRIAN

(He laughs.)

I guess not! I wouldn’t call any of the meatheads around here anything of that sort. Who are you?

LANE

Why darling, I’m your Auntie Lane!

BRIAN

Mom!

(Brian’s Mother reenters.)

MOTHER

Brian what is it?!

BRIAN

Mom you didn’t tell me you had a fabulous sister!

MOTHER

You mean your Aunt Liz?

BRIAN

No, she wears flannel and drinks beer.

LANE

Oh my, my, my how dreadful.

BRIAN

I mean this woman here who is dripping in diamonds and smells tastefully of…

(He gets up and walks over to her and sniffs)

Channel No. 5?

LANE

Good nose!

MOTHER

Brian is this another one of your weird games because I can’t take it, and neither can my hair. It barely grew back after the perm debacle. 

BRIAN

But mom she’s RIGHT THERE!

LANE

I’m afraid, darling, she can’t see me. I’m a bit of your old subconscious playing tricks on you. 

BRIAN

Like you’re an imaginary friend come to life from the movies?

LANE

Yes, I suppose that’s right.

BRIAN

Didn’t Woody Allen already kind of do that in Play It Again, Sam?

LANE

Woody Who?

BRIAN

I can’t even tell if my subconscious is going dramaturgy because Roz Russell wouldn’t know who Woody Allen is or if my subconscious is chic enough to create a lady that would refuse to believe Woody Allen exists.

LANE

Why choose just one I say? 

BRIAN

So what are we supposed to do now? I have a middle aged imaginary Aunt. Is this supposed to make my gay little life easier.

LANE

That’s right darling we’ll have gay times!

BRIAN

No I think we’re talking about different things. 

LANE

We need to ring up the bootlegger it’s time for a party.

BRIAN

Prohibition ended a long time ago, Lane!

LANE

Here he is now!

(There is suddenly jazz music playing and a crowd of people. Brian goes around trying to shoo them away. His mother, not being able to see any of this, is very concerned.)

MOTHER

I knew he’d go full Tennessee Williams hero crazy eventually but I thought he’d make it to puberty. We’re leaving. 

(She drags him off stage)

BRIAN

Bye Lane it’s been good to meet you!

LANE

Oh don’t you worry, remember I’m in your subconscious I’ll see you at home darling!

END


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I would describe my style and attitude as…

A cross between Iris Apfel, Miriam Margoles, Lucille Ball. But I am a devoted maximalist through and through. Although, as another inspiration once said

Style—all who have it share one thing: originality.

Diana Vreeland

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