So I’ve been a little busy lately. And more than a little unfocused. So the sketch I was working on for today didn’t really come together. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you empty handed. I have this play I’ve been working on forever. A comedy, of course. About a poor fellow who goes out on a date with a woman who may or may not be murdering the men she goes out with. At the moment it’s titled The Blind Date Black Widow. This is a scene from early in the first act. Our hero, Mitch, has just had a little verbal confrontation with a nosy neighborlady and now his best friend, Stew, has come over. It’s set in Mitch’s tiny, one bedroom apartment. Please feel free to leave any feedback you may have.

For those playing by the rules this week, Richard’s flown the coop and Dave has too.

The Blind Date Bandit

(The door begins to open but the chain catches it. There is a thud.)

STEW: (Off) Ouch! Mitch, open up!

MITCH: Hang on Stew.
(He opens the door)
Sorry about that.

(Stewart, 30’s and husky, enters. He is wearing his police uniform.)

STEW: Why are you using the chain?

MITCH: Why don’t you knock like a normal person?

STEW: Because you gave me a key.

MITCH: I gave you that in case I lock myself out. Not so you could let yourself in here whenever you want. What if I was with someone?

(Stewart makes himself at home. Getting a beer from the fridge, eating whatever food might be lying around.)

STEW: Like who?

MITCH: What if I had a date?

STEW: I think I know you better than that.

MITCH: What do you want, Stew?

STEW: What do you mean?

MITCH: What brings you by?

STEW: Nothing. My shift ended early today so I thought I’d stop by and shoot the shit with you.
(Beat) That’s an odd turn of phrase, isn’t it? Do you suppose people in olden times used to sit around and actually shoot shit?

(Mitch just looks at him)

STEW: What? The entomology of words and phrases has always fascinated me.

MITCH: Don’t you mean etymology?

STEW: Isn’t that the study of birds or something?

MITCH: No, that’s ornithology.

STEW: I thought that was teeth.

MITCH: Maybe you should look into another hobby.

STEW: Eh. So what are you cooking? It smells good.

MITCH: Dinner for my date. Tonight. I hate to rush you out of here, but I still have to get ready.

STEW: Is this one of the girls Alison set you up with?

MITCH: No, Stewart, your wife had nothing to do with this date. Thank God.

STEW: What’s that supposed to mean?

MITCH: Alison’s a terrible matchmaker.

STEW: Mitch, she runs her own dating service. I think she knows what she’s doing.

MITCH: She’s set me up three times and every one was a complete disaster.

STEW: You ever think that maybe that has more to do with the matchee than the matcher? I mean, they don’t just throw people together willy-nilly. There’s a science to it, Mitch.

MITCH: Like physics and biology?

STEW: Did you lie on your form? I bet you lied on your form. Trying to make yourself look better so you could rate a better class of woman.

MITCH: I didn’t lie on my form.

STEW: What did you put down as your occupation?

MITCH: I don’t remember.

STEW: Did you put down temp?

MITCH: I told you, I don’t remember.

STEW: No, you put down writer.

MITCH: Just because I’ve never had anything published doesn’t mean I’m not a…hey, how did you know I put down writer? Does Alison let you look at the forms?

STEW: Sometimes.

MITCH: What about the confidentiality agreement?

STEW: Mitch, I’m your best friend. I know more about you than what you put on a stupid dating service form. (Beat) And if you’re only 160 pounds, I’m Liza Minelli.

MITCH: I had just gotten over the flu when I filled out that form. And the women she set me up with were all nuts.

STEW: She screens her clients very well.

MITCH: Stew, the last one was covered in tattoos.

STEW: Tattoos are very sexy.

MITCH: She had over a dozen Elvises on her ass.

STEW: You got to see her ass? That sounds like a pretty good date to me.

MITCH: Some of them had real hair for sideburns.

(Alison bursts through the door. She is worked up. She heads straight for Stew.)

ALISON: I thought I’d find you here.

STEW: Honey, I was just on my way home. What’s up?

ALISON: I’m ovulating.

STEW: Now?

ALISON: No, whenever it’s convenient for you, yes now!

STEW: Okay, take it easy. Let’s go.

(Alison begins undressing.)

ALISON: There’s not enough time.

MITCH: What’s going on here?

STEW: We’re trying to have a baby.

ALISON: Less talking, more undressing.
(To Mitch)
Stew’s sperm is a little sluggish.

STEW: The doctor gave her these hormone pills that make her a little agitated sometimes.

ALISON: Stewart, I swear to Christ, if we aren’t having sex in the next 38 seconds I will cut off Mr. Tinkle and feed him to the dog. Move!

(She begins to drag Stew towards the bedroom. Mitch blocks them.)

MITCH: Wait, I have a date tonight. You guys can’t do this here.

ALISON: Mitch, once we get started it’s going to take all of seven minutes. Four if Speedy here would take off his pants already!

(She reaches for Stew’s belt and begins taking off his pants.)

STEW: We don’t want to mess up his sheets honey.

ALISON: Fine!

(She pulls Stew down behind the couch.)

MITCH: Oh…I…uh…I think…wow…I’m going to check on my dinner.

(Mitch exits into the kitchen. Stew and Alison are concealed behind the couch.)

ALISON: You have to tilt it more!

STEW: I’m tilting it as far as it’ll go.

(The phone rings. Mitch enters and sees them and exits back into the kitchen.)

ALISON: Farther!

STEW: Ow! It doesn’t bend like that.

(The phone rings.)

ALISON: Answer the damn phone, Mitch!

STEW: Honey, getting stressed like this isn’t helping.

ALISON: PUT A BABY IN ME!