A small town ladies' social club gets trapped in the town's seedy bar and become convinced they are under attack from aliens.
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Theresa – Cynical career waitress.
Grace: Bitter widow who excels at snark.
Chelsea – Waitress with a naughty rep.
Dave – Bartender & co-owner of the bar
Buck – Amateur UFOlogist and wingnut.
Sheila – Bitter barmaid wants Dave.
Esther – Crimson Caps' pompous leader.
Leona – Prissy but wealthy tea-totaler.
Millie: Addled, 80-ish, deaf-ish hippie.
The play is set in the bar of a small town in the late 1970s.
Three walls with sports paraphernalia adorning them. There is a bar ounter on one side and tables and chairs on the other. There is an entrance to the "restaurant" and one to the "Basement exit"
ACT 1, Scene 1
(The curtain opens. Theresa is behind the bar counting money and adding on a calculator. Grace enters. )
Theresa: More coffee Grace? I’ll be right with you. I just have to finish cashing out Dave’s bar tally from yesterday since the dummy forgot. Again. He takes me for granted so much, you’d think we were marriage partners, not business partners.
Grace: No thanks, to the coffee, if I have another sip, I’ll be jitterier than a debutante checking her pregnancy tester.
Theresa: Speaking of flirting with a diaper disaster, I wonder where Chelsea is this morning. She often nicks me for a few minutes a day but she is… (checks her cell phone) seventeen and a half minutes late and counting. That girl pushes more envelopes than a postal worker. It drives me crazy.
Grace: It’s hardly a drive, my dear. It’s probably more like a putt.
Theresa: Now listen here Grace, if I wanted your opinion, I’d have asked for it, right after I asked to have my head examined.
ACT 1, Scene 2
(Chelsea, entering from bar in a rush.)
Chelsea: I’m sorry I’m late, Theresa, I had a farther walk than I am used to… I mean… I.. I… slept in.
Grace: Slept in what? Jerome Swanson’s bedroom? That is a fair distance.
Chelsea: Jerome and I are just friends… which is too bad because I really think he’s my type.
Grace: What type is that? Breathing?
Theresa: No. Rich.
Chelsea: And what’s wrong with that? I think he would make a terrific first husband.
Grace: First husband? Whatever happened to marriage being forever?
Chelsea: Of course I believe in all that forever stuff, but at my age, five years in the future does seem like forever… Especially if you’re stuck with someone as boring as Jerome. After all, five years is a quarter of my life. Whereas for you, Grace, five years isn’t even double digits, percentage-wise. How old are you again?
Theresa: So after you get your hooks into hubby number one, you plan to toss him aside for what? Another guy? You know they are all pretty much the same. They’re all jerks. Why go to all of the trouble of having to break in a new one?
Grace: Now, there’s a valid point.
Chelsea: First you marry for money, then you marry for love. That’s how it works nowadays, you know. It’s not like in the stone age where you mated for life. That’s just gross.
Grace: I think that is a horrible outlook. Larry and I had many decades of happiness together, before he… shed his mortal coil… Anyway, I must go and make ready for the Crimson Cap Ladies monthly meeting and tea this afternoon. Apparently, Esther, our social director has quite a time planned.
Chelsea: Phone the zoo. There are cougars on the loose!
Grace: As for you, young lady, you can trade on your looks for a few years… maybe… but the ones that catch men with just looks… well, they have to keep a close watch on their hubbies who will never stop looking for someone prettier. Have a nice day. (She exits through “restaurant door”)
Dave: Good afternoon lovely ladies! My name is Dave and I will be your host for this adventure. Millie: We have to go on adventure? I thought we were having lunch.
Grace: He just means that he’s going to try and push wine on us.
Millie: God bless you, young man.
Dave: So what will it be ladies? Wine all around?
Millie: There’s a wino around? Oh dear!
Leona: Well, I don’t know, Dave, I’ve never had strong drink before. In fact, I’ve never even been inside a bar before.
Grace: You’ll get used to it when the booze kicks in.
Esther: Don’t feel out of place, honey. I never come in these places either.
Millie: What kind of places do you come in?
Dave: Esther, are you kidding me? You were just here the other… (Esther gives him a stern look) uh…
uh… decade… yeah.. yeah.. the other decade. (laughs weakly).
Esther: I’ve seen smoother moves from my laxative. Anyway, bring us a bottle of your finest from some far off, romantic land!
Dave: I have some stuff from Ontario…
Millie: I love oreos!
Grace: Shut up, Millie; sounds good, Dave. Bring it on. (Dave goes behind bar to retrieve wine.)
Dave: Theresa will be here in a few minutes to bring your appetizer. Here’s the… ah… first offering. Here we go… would anyone like to sniff the… er… cap?
Esther: As head of this organization and organizer of the party I believe that duty should fall on my
Millie: Sniff what crap?
Grace: Good grief, Millie you are as deaf as a donut, aren’t you?
Leona: Now that was a little hurtful, Grace.
Grace: Especially for the donut. So, Esther, are you done snorting the cap or can we have a glass now?
Esther: Not quite yet. I was just going to say this wine has a most complex bouquet with overtones of cherries, and plums and hints of walnut and oak…
Grace: Oh please. It’s wine, not fruit salad. That sounded like overtones of tripe with hints of BS. Okay, Dave, dish it up.
Esther: Wait! First I have to taste it. Sommelier? (She gestures to Dave with her glass and Dave pours a generous amount.)
Millie: He sure is!
Leona: Who is what, dear?
Millie: Why what Esther said. This young man is smelly, eh?
Grace: Now that you mention it…
Dave: Hey, for the international theme of today’s party, I thought I’d wear something European. It’s
British Leather. Actually it’s a knock-off from the dollar store called English Weather.
Esther: It smells more like wet leather.
Grace: No, more like ranch. I mean a real ranch.
Dave: Er… enough about me. Let’s talk about the wine… We’re all dying for you to sample the wine.
Esther: Okay, here goes… (Pours the wine into her mouth as…)
Grace: Don’t forget, you’re not supposed to swallow it, if you’re the official wine taster. You have to spit it out.
Dave: Hey! There’s no spitting in here!
Leona: Well, she should either spit it out or swallow it. She can’t just sit there with it in her mouth.
Millie: Spit or swallow? How did the conversation end up there?
Grace: I don’t care if you have to go to the ladies room, the wine taster never swallows the first sip. That is in the official rules of being the wine taster. You can look it up in your Funk and Wagnals.
Millie: Such language!
Esther: Mmmmm! Mmm!
Leona: She said Funk and Wagnals, dear. Funk and Wagnals.
Millie: I heard her, dear. I just don’t know what wagnals are. I am surprised to hear you use bad language. I expect it of Grace.
Esther: MMMMMMM!!! MMMMMMMMM!!!
Dave: I think Esther is going to blow a gasket…
Esther: MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!! (She points at the door excitedly. All eyes turn to see what she was pointing at as she spits into Grace’s purse.)
Leona: What were you pointing at, Esther?
Esther: I… uh… had a premonition someone was about to come in but then it went away.
Millie: The someone or the premonition? I don’t understand.
Grace: She just wanted to distract us so she could swallow the wine.
Esther: But I didn’t swallow it.
Grace: Oh, really? Then where did you spit it out?
Esther: It’s a surprise.
Buck: For crying out loud, girl, we are being attacked and maybe even infiltrated by alien hoards bent on our being bent over. Having been personally probed poked and spatially invaded, I believe I am the ranking UFO authority in the room. Those anal probes are no joke. You have no idea what it’s like!
Chelsea: (With a giggle and an embarrassed smile) Well, actually, I…
Esther: Now Chelsea, I hardly think this is the time or place for this kind of discussion.
Millie: Darn, and it was just getting good!
Grace: Will everybody shut up and let Buck finish the story? The one in the bar, not the one in the space ship. I may not agree with his interpretation of events but I’m dying to find out what he thinks did happen.
Chelsea: Hey, it was my story to tell and I…
Everyone else: Shut up Chelsea.
Buck: Well, I would tell you what happened but my throat is getting mighty dry and it makes it hard to speak.
Leona: Would you like a glass of water?
Buck: I said I was thirsty, not dirty.
Esther: We’ll get you a beer; just go on with your story.
Buck: Okay, fair enough. (He stands) Well, there I was in this very establishment this morning.
Ladies: Oh dear! Oh my! Tut tut. Etc.
Buck: Hey, it was almost noon… somewhere. Anyway, we were all here in the bar, me and Dave and Sheila, when we heard The Noise. I swear it was the same noise I heard just before I had my close encounter.
Millie: I loved that movie!
Buck: These weren’t nice aliens like in the movies, ma’am. The little bastards that closely encountered me must have some kind of fanny fixation. I have never felt so violated in my life.
Grace: You don’t go through customs very often, do you?
Chelsea: You know, I can tell you about that sound.
Buck: Quiet Chelsea, I’m getting to it. Anyhow, it was the most godawful sound you can imagine. A low thrum of interstellar engines with another noise unlike any earthly thing you ever heard. I am sure it’s their freeze ray. We left the bar immediately to search for the alien ship but it was gone before any human craft could have flown away.
Millie: Did he say human crap flew away?
Chelsea: Actually, Buck, I think I know what that…
Buck: Chelsea, please, will you stop interrupting? (The Ladies nod and tut tut in agreement.)
Chelsea: Have it your way. (Takes her foil hat off, crushes it up and throws it behind the bar.) Where’s that wine to calm my nerves, anyway?
Leona: Coming right up! I found a case of wine Dave probably has forgotten all about. It’s all dusty. Here, Chelsea, you gotta try this one! It is great! Here’s a beer for you, too, Buck. There you go, sweetie.
Buck: You’re a lot friendlier than that Sheila woman.
Grace: I’ve seen pit-bulls friendlier than that Sheila woman.
Esther: Speaking of Sheila… and Dave… and Theresa, where do you think they are? I am really getting concerned… but I am afraid for anyone to go off on their own like those people in horror movies that always end up dead.
Chelsea: I’m worried about Theresa, too. It’s not like her to leave work. Sam the cook is missing, too. It’s bizarre
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