On a Witch's Dare (eBook)

The Education of Milly Mudd

A comedy in two acts

Act One

Scene One

The kitchen of an obviously large house with a view. Scene opens with Milly on the phone.

Milly: No. He absolutely must not know, not until it’s done. William simply would throw a fit if he knew. (pause, then giggling) It’s true, William is definitely above throwing fits. He would become (lowering her voice) exceedingly angry over this grave matter. Then I wouldn’t be able to do it. (pause) I know it’s my own money, but William absolutely hates it that I have my own money. (pause, then giggling) No, he is not a stuffy old man, and I do not call him William in bed. (pause, then laughing out loud) No! I don’t call him by his initials either—William A. Mudd. (listens) Armstrong, the A is for Armstrong. Oh! I hear him coming, and I haven’t even started breakfast. (listening, but dancing a bit as if the phone were stuck to her ear) Okay. Noon, then, at Sebastian’s. (whispering) Top secret. See you there. (hangs up the phone and starts cracking eggs into a skillet)

(William, a short, erect man, wearing a tailored bathrobe monogrammed WAM, enters. Milly gasps.)

William: On the phone already! The life of a wife. Ha! Hear that? And I’m a poet, as well. Life? Wife? (He advances toward her.)

Milly: What are you doing?

William: I’m about to award you a kiss.

Milly: You’re not dressed. You’ll be late!

William: (kisses her quickly) I’m never late.

Milly: But you’re not even dressed and it’s—

William: That’s because I don’t know what to wear yet. I’ve decided to rescue you today from your tedious, wifely existence. Tell me what you want to do, and I will dress for it.

Milly: (glancing at the phone) It’s just that—(The phone rings, startling her. She answers it.) It’s for you.

William: (into phone) Yes. Yes. No. Tell her not to worry. Tell her the papers are in order and will be delivered to her first thing this morning. Then, of course, don’t forget to send off the papers. Reach me on my cell if you need me. You, too. (hangs up) Now for you, Dearest. What shall I wear?

Milly: But you never stay home on a workday.

William: You don’t seem happy about my surprise.

Milly: (forcing enthusiasm) Oh, I am happy. Of course I’m happy.

William: I knew you would be. (advancing, smiling confidently) To be rescued from another day of soaps and phone gossip.

Milly: (aside, sarcastically) Rescued for a whole day. Lucky me! (brightly, to William) I know! I know what! A three-day weekend at the beach! (She advances as he backs away.) Romantic dinners, long barefoot walks on the sand, shopping at the outlet mall. Oh! Flying a kite!

William: (seriously) I wish we could. But you know the Mudd for Mayor committee meets for lunch tomorrow, and we have the company dinner tomorrow night. You wouldn’t want me to miss my own promotion to full partner, would you? Listen. Since you can’t make up your mind, I know just what the doctor ordered. I’ll dress, we’ll eat, and then be off.

Milly: But I did make up my mind. I wanted—

William: But, as I said—

Milly: And you want me to cook?

William: Well . . .

Milly: Some rescue!

William: You’re right, of course, Darling. How thoughtless of me. It’s breakfast out, and the day is yours. (He exits.)

Milly: (to herself) You mean the day was mine. (dumps the frying eggs into the sink and exits)

(blackout)

Scene Two

(William enters dressed casually and talking on his cell phone.)

William: Just the two of us. (listening) Just the two of us would be better. If possible, of course, Bob. I understand it’s last-minute. (listening) Okay. So that will be the back nine at ten-twenty (glancing at his watch), lunch, then the front starting at two forty-five. Yes: with a cart. Thank you, Bob. (listening, then laughing) And thanks for that one, Bobby. You’re a gem. (laughs again) And, could you transfer me to the dining room? (waiting, rummaging around the kitchen, picking up the notepad by the kitchen phone, reading) Sebastian’s at noon? No day. No date. When? I wonder. Who? One of her little gossip mates, no doubt. (puts down the notepad) Yes, may I reserve lunch for two at about one o’clock? (listening) Excellent. The name is Mudd, William A. Mudd. (listening) Yes, Member Number 848. Excellent. Thanks. (clicks closed his cell phone. Calls) Milly. Hop to it, Babe. (Picks up the notepad again. Reads and gazes away, thoughtfully.) But, why way downtown to Sebastian’s just for gossip? What IS my little Millykins up to now?

(Milly enters hurriedly, smoothing her dress.)

Milly: I heard you talking (looking around). Oh, on the phone of course. So, here I am ready to go.

William: (who has picked up the notepad again, turning and looking up) So, Milly, dearest, what’s this— (seeing her in a dress, interrupts himself) Whoa there, William! We have a golf date dressed in a, ahhhhh, a dress!

Milly: Golf date?

William: Yes, dear. Golf date. I just got off the phone from making reservations . . . had to pull some serious strings at this late hour.

Milly: But you said the day was mine.

William: But it is yours, dearest. How often have you complained that I’m always off to golf with the men and never with you? And, you’ve taken all those lessons. I thought a round of golf with me would make your day; you can show me how much you’ve improved, et cetera.

Milly: I did say those things, I know, but—

William: Indeed, you did. And now we’ve got to hustle if we’re going to grab something to eat then make our tee time.

Milly: Grab something to eat?

William: You know, Milly, they don’t often schedule twosomes; I had to pull some serious strings just to get Bob (the pro shop manager, you know) to agree to scheduling a twosome at any time. I knew you’d want it to be just the two of us.

Milly: I’ll hurry. (rushes off, but comes right back) Okay, William. But you must promise no coaching, no tip giving, no commenting of any kind, no matter what.

William: (chuckling) Yes, dearest. Not a word. (Milly exits. William returns his attention to the notepad. Looks up and taps the pad lightly against his chin.) What is my little Millykins up to? (Hears her talking in the other room, quickly puts down the pad, and, led by the ear he is trying to hear with, hurries sideways to the edge of the set, where he leans, trying to listen. She stops talking. He hurries back to the kitchen. To himself) So, it’s to be next Wednesday. What is she up to? I do love a mystery. I’m not so sure I love it, though, when it’s my mystery.

(blackout)

Scene Three

At a table for two in the country club restaurant. When the lights come up, they are each looking at a menu. William folds his menu closed in front of him and looks at Milly.

William: (Clears his throat. Looks around the restaurant, as if for someone he knows, or to catch a waiter’s attention. Checks his watch. Clears his throat again.) I hear the new chef makes a great Reuben.

Milly: (without looking up) I don’t like sauerkraut.

William: Had a French dip last week—outstanding.

Milly: (coldly) I know you’re in a hurry, William. You’ve made that clear since the tenth tee.

William: (defensively) That’s where we started, Milly. We started at the tenth tee.

Milly: I know where we started, William. And I know where you started pressuring. I’ll have the chicken salad.

William: (grabbing a passing “waiter” by the sleeve.) I’m sorry to, you know, interrupt you, but we’re sort of in a hurry here.

“Waiter”: (chuckling) Join the club, sir. Your waitperson will be right with you. (leaves)

William: Do you believe that guy? Who does he think he is, talking to a member that way?

Milly: (brightly now) Tell me you didn’t just grab him by the arm.

William: That was a little forward, I admit.

Milly: And you don’t know who he is?

William: Never seen him before, and I might not see him again after I talk to—

Milly: (interrupting) You didn’t notice his special hat and the rest of his outfit.

William: Not really.

Milly: William, you just accosted the new chef! The girls and I met him after our last golf lesson. (truly delighted) You’ll be lucky if they don’t kick you out of the club!

William: (straightening in his seat) Well, what’s the chef doing out running around with the...