My first stab at a Tony

If you saw a piece of paper hanging on the fridge with “baby carrots” written on it, you would probably automatically assume it is a grocery list. Not so fast my friend, it could also be a to-do list. Personally, I prefer pampering onions and patronizing spinach. I almost wrote coddling eggplant, but then I realized that coddling is also a cooking term and that would make sense and therefore not be as laugh out loud funny as the two examples I chose.

Why is a game that nobody wins in tic tac toe called a cat’s game? Am I unaware of some historic study that took place in which felines were successfully trained to play tic tac toe but no winners or losers ever emerged? Why just in tic-tac-toe do we refer to ties as cat’s games? Meow do you explain that?

I'm going to write a short play now. It’s going to be the touching story of a boy and an alien who meet in a 99 cent store and try to communicate despite their language barrier. Perhaps there will be a powerful message of the universality of friendship.

We open in the plastic bin aisle where Dale, 19 is looking for the ideal plastic bin in which to store some of his belongings. As he’s backpedaling down the aisle looking up at all the bins he collides with Bixil the alien. Bixil is suspended slightly off of the ground rocking back and forth as if seated in a rocking chair, however no rocking chair is visible. Bixil looks like a short human, only his skin is silver and sparkly and he has three spork-shaped objects protruding from the top left side of his forehead. Also, his right hand looks like it’s the head of a mop. His left hand is like a human hand only the ring finger and thumb have switched positions.

Dale
Excuse me. So sorry (turning to see Bixil)…sir?

Bixil
Mikos, Mex, Mex , Mikos. Mikos, Mex, Mex, Mikos.

Dale
(scratching head)
You’re not from around here are you?

Bixil
Pen-sule! Zorgit, zorgitob!

Dale
(pointing to his chest)
My name is Dale. (pointing again and speaking deliberately) Dale.

Bixil
(touching each one of his spork-like growths)
Boonshta, Kipicow, Luunch.

Dale
Are those the names of your antennae? That’s nice. I name some of my body parts too. I’d introduce you to Mr. Hedgetrimmer but we're in public. Say, how did you get here to Earth?

Bixil slows his rocking, stands and approaches Dale. Bixil is staring down at Dale’s feet.

Bixil
Cru-noostipher

Dale
Huh?

Bixil bends over and gives Dale a shoe wedgie (you know, he pulls the bottom lace of Dale’s sneakers really hard so that it makes a big annoying loop)

Bixil
Essabonbon.

Dale
Fuck you, man! Stupid mop-handed alien.

Bixil seems to pick up on Dale’s anger and retreats. Bixil hesitantly glances at Dale with a look of deep regret on his silver-sparkly face.

Dale
Say, it’s no big deal. Besides, you can make it up to me. I’m only 19 so I can’t legally buy beer, but I ‘ve got a couple of friends coming over to watch the local news and I promised I’d pick up a case. Whaddya say? If I give you the cash will you go into the convenient store and get a case of Mich-ultras?

Bixil turns into a cactus for twenty seconds while Dale stares at him impatiently awaiting a reply. Finally, Bixil reappears in alien form and nods towards the exit.

Dale
Rickity Rock and Roll Time! Nice.

Ouside of the entrance of the convenient store

Dale tries to hand Bixil a $20 but it keeps falling out of Bixil’s grasp-incapable mop-hand. On the fourth try, Dale puts it in Bixil’s left hand. Bixil then cruises past the automatic doors on a skateboard made of courage.

Dale takes his cell phone out of his pocket, looks at the time then makes a call.

Dale
(into cell phone)
Hey, Sean, game on!

Dale smiles contentedly and begins to tap his right foot at an uptempo pace. The sun begins to set and Dale waits patiently for Bixil to return with the case of Mich-Ultra.

Fade to Black

Lights Up

It’s the next day and Dale is still waiting. We see the hour hand on a clock start to move quickly, counting the hours that Dale waits for Bixil to emerge from the store. The sun begins to set again.


Fade to Black

Lights up.

On the third day around 4 pm, after Dale’s been standing outside for nearly 46 hours, Bixil crawls out of the store on all fours. Perched atop his back are two six packs.

Dale
It’s about time, I started to wonder if you didn’t just jet with my….(grabbing and examining the beer on Bixil’s back.) Hey! These are cans of Bud Dry. I asked you for a case of Michelob Ultra. What gives?

Bixil, now kneeling, turns from Dale to face the audience, and gives the most delightfully charming, mischievous grin while shrugging his shoulders.

Bixil
Londle bark.

The End

Try as you might, you will never get those two minutes of your life back. Sorry.

Enjoy the weekend or as they call it in Spain "the end of the week."