Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 14

JUDGE. [_Glances coldly at her and then scans ledger again._] Well, how about hay-fever?

VAIN WOMAN. [_Reproachfully._] Oh, Judge, how can you suggest such a thing! Watery eyes and a red nose, the worst enemy of beauty there is. I simply couldn't think of it. I want something that won't show.

JUDGE. [_Disgustedly turns to filing cabinet and looks through a series of cards, withdraws one, and turns back to_ VAIN WOMAN.] Perhaps this will suit you. [_Refers to card._] A woman has grown very tired of her husband and wants to exchange him for some other burden.

VAIN WOMAN. [_Indignantly._] What! I accept a man that some other woman doesn't want! Certainly not! I prefer one that some other woman does want.

JUDGE. [_Irritated, puts the card back in its place, and turns upon the_ VAIN WOMAN _crossly_.] I fear that I cannot please you and I do not have time to----

IMP. [_Interrupts and runs over to the railing, speaking soothingly to the_ JUDGE.] Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the lady would like deafness in exchange for her wrinkles. Deafness wouldn't show, so it couldn't spoil her face or her elegant figure.

JUDGE. [_Wearily._] No, it won't show. Deafness ought to be a good thing for you.

VAIN WOMAN. [_Consideringly._] Why--yes--that might do. But--well, it wouldn't show. I've a notion to take it. [_Pause--she seems to consider and meditate. The_ JUDGE _stares at her coldly_. IMP _grins impudently.

She rises leisurely, sighs._] All right. I'll accept it.

JUDGE. [_Sharply._] Hold up your right hand. [_She raises hand._] Do you swear to accept deafness for better or for worse, as your portion of the world's miseries, so help you G.o.d?

VAIN WOMAN. [_Sweetly._] Oh, yes. I do, Judge.

JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show the lady to the changing-room.

IMP. [_Escorts her to the curtained door with rather mock deference._]

No, deafness won't show at all, and you'll have 'em all crazy about you.

[_Draws aside curtains for her to pa.s.s._] Take second booth to your right.

[VAIN WOMAN _stands posing a moment. She smiles radiantly and pats her cheeks softly with her hands, then with a long-drawn sigh of happiness, she exits._ IMP _bows low and mockingly after her vanishing form, his hand on his heart_.

JUDGE. [_Sarcastically._] Do her faults or shortcomings trouble her? Not at all! Perfectly satisfied with herself, except for a few wrinkles in her face. Vain women! Bah!

IMP. Yes, sir; women have queer notions.

[_An imperative rap at the street-door, immediately followed by the rapper's abrupt entrance. We see an important-appearing personage.

His arrogant bearing and commanding pose lead us to believe that he is accustomed to prompt attention. It is the_ RICH CITIZEN, _exceedingly well groomed. His manner is lordly, but he addresses the_ JUDGE _in a bored tone. When_ IMP _scampers to meet him, the_ RICH CITIZEN _hands him his hat and cane and turns at once to the_ JUDGE. IMP _examines the hat and cane critically, hangs them on the hat-rack, and returns to his desk, where he again perches to watch the_ RICH CITIZEN.

RICH CITIZEN. [_Lighting a cigarette._] I am addressing the Judge, am I not?

JUDGE. [_Shortly._] You are.

RICH CITIZEN. [_Languidly, between puffs of his cigarette._] Well, Judge, life has become rather boresome, so I thought I would drop in and ask you to do me a small favor.

JUDGE. [_Wearily._] Yes? We--What is your grievance?

RICH CITIZEN. [_Nonchalantly._] Oh, I wouldn't say grievance exactly.

You see, my dear Judge, it is this way. I am a very rich and influential citizen, a prominent member of society, and I am very much sought after.

JUDGE. [_Frigidly._] Oh, indeed!

RICH CITIZEN. [_In a very bored manner._] Yes. Women run after me day and night. Ambitious mothers throw their marriageable daughters at my head. Men seek my advice on all matters. I am compelled to head this and that committee. [_Smokes languidly._

JUDGE. [_Sharply._] Well, go on.

RICH CITIZEN. Really, Judge, my prestige has become a burden. I want to get away from it all. I would like to become a plain, ordinary man with an humble vocation, the humbler the better, so that people will cease bothering me.

JUDGE. [_Sarcastically._] Is your prestige all that troubles you? Don't worry about your morals, I suppose. Satisfied with your habits and character?

RICH CITIZEN. [_Coldly._] What have my habits or morals got to do with my request? [_Scornfully._] Certainly I am not one of your saintly men.

I live as a man of my station should live, and I think I measure up very well with the best of them. I am simply bored and I would like a change.

I would like to be a plain man with an humble calling.

JUDGE. [_Ironically._] I'll see what we have in humble callings. [_He looks at the ledger, turning the leaves over slowly._] We have several bartenders' vocations.

RICH CITIZEN. [_Wearily smoking._] No. Too many people about all the time, and too much noise.

JUDGE. Well, here's a janitor's job open to you.

RICH CITIZEN. [_Impatiently throwing away his cigarette._] No. I don't like that, either. Too confining. Too many people bickering at you all the time. I want to get out in the open, away from crowds.

JUDGE. [_Sighing, and turning over the leaves of the ledger, then hopefully._] Here's the very thing for you, then--postman in a rural district.

RICH CITIZEN. [_Showing vexation._] No, no, _no_. Too many old women that want to gossip. I tell you, I want to get away from women. Haven't you something peaceful and quiet; something that would take me out in the quiet of the early morning, when the birds are singing?

JUDGE. [_Closing ledger with a bang, and rising._] Well, you're too particular, and I have not time to bother with you. I bid you good after----

IMP. [_Slides from his desk, runs to railing, and speaks suavely._]

Excuse me, Judge, but maybe the gentleman would like the vocation of milkman. That is early-morning work. And, you remember, a milkman left his job here when he took that old, worn-out senator's position.

JUDGE. [_Sharply, to_ RICH CITIZEN.] Well, how about it? Does a milkman's vocation suit you? It's early-morning hours, fresh air, and no people about.

RICH CITIZEN. [_Musingly._] Well, the very simplicity and quietness of it is its charm. It rather appeals to me. [_He ponders a moment._] Yes, by Jove, I'll take it.

JUDGE. [_Sternly._] Hold up your right hand. "Do you solemnly swear to accept, for better or for worse, the vocation of milkman as your lot in life, so help you G.o.d?"

RICH CITIZEN. I do.

JUDGE. [_To_ IMP.] Show this gentleman to the changing-room.

IMP. [_While escorting him to the curtained door._] Yes, sir, you will lead the simple life. Fresh air, fresh milk, no people, just cows--and they can't talk. [_Holding aside the curtains._] Third booth, sir.

RICH CITIZEN. [_Musingly._] The simple life--peace and quietness.

[_Exit._

JUDGE. [I_n disgust._] It's no use, Imp. They all cling to their vices, but they are very keen to change some little cross or condition that vexes them--or think vexes them.

IMP. It's strange that people always want something different from what they have.

[IMP _opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a bottle, evidently filled with tablets, which he holds up, shaking it and chuckling.