Writing for Vaudeville Part 77

GIRLS: (Running up.) Oh--here comes the old Sheik now. (Enter the old SHEIK ABU MIRZAH preceded by Persian servant.)

ABU: Ah--ma Rosa Persh--ma waf to be--to-morrow we marry, eh? (The SHEIK carries eartrumpet.)

ROSE: (Running from him in alarm.) Oh, don't touch me--don't--don't!

(They are both yelling at each other as MRS. SCHUYLER enters first arch and sees ROSE'S actions--she is flashy--an ex-chorus girl--married to the retiring consul.)

MRS. SCHUYLER: Say, tie a can to that duet. What's the matter?

ROSE: (Crossing to her.) Oh, Mrs. Schuyler, I won't marry him--I hate him!

MRS. SCHUYLER: Oh, the poor old prune. (Crossing to ABU, garrulously.) How are you, Sheik? Our little ward, Rose, is so young and foolish!

But I was just that innocent when I was in the chorus. When I came out of it, believe me, I was a different woman. (Enter Persian servant.)

SERVANT: The new consul wants to know when we are going to move out--

MRS. SCHUYLER: Not till after Rose's wedding to-morrow. (ROSE utters exclamation of rage, slaps the SHEIK'S face and exits.) I was just that emotional until I'd been married a few times--Come, Sheik--my husband won't return from Tabris till this evening--join me in a c.o.c.ktail. (She ill.u.s.trates drink in pantomime.)

ABU: (Understanding pantomime.) Yes! Yes! (LETTY and BETTY go up to table and chair C.)

MRS. SCHUYLER: Mousta, two c.o.c.ktails on my back porch. Come, Sheik--Sheik! (Business with girls.) This way to the dog house.

(Takes hold of chain on his ear trumpet and pa.s.ses him in. Girls have gone off.) Oh--and, Mousta--don't put any cherries in--they take up too much room in the gla.s.s. (She exits one way--Waiter, another.)

(MUSIC. Entrance of men.)

PAUL: (Entering with DUDLEY.) Well, there are some beautiful girls in our new Persian home--has Phil brought our things from the boat?

Phil! Phil! (Phil enters with all the luggage.)

PHIL: (Meekly.) Here I am, sir.--

PAUL: (As if brushing mosquitoes away.) Oh gee! these Persian mosquitoes! (Finally kills one on his own face.)

PHIL: (Hungrily.) When are we going to have lunch, sir?

PAUL: Well, there are several little things I want you to do first.

(Whacking him on one side of face.) Another mosquito.

PHIL: (Gratefully.) Oh, thank you, sir.

DUDLEY: Paul, you look as if you were mashed on that Madison girl--(Sees mosquito on PHIL's face.) Another mosquito. (Whacks him on other side of face.)

PHIL: Oh, thank you, sir--I have never seen such extreme kindness.

(Both whack him this time--one on each side of face.)

PAUL: Ho! Ho! Two of them this time.

PHIL: Probably twins.

DUDLEY: I'll go in and see when the retiring consul will move out.

PAUL: All right, and I'll get a bite of luncheon awhile. (DUDLEY exits.)

PHIL: (Hungrily.) Oh--are you going to have your luncheon _alone_?

(PAUL sees mosquito on PHIL--is about to kill it--PHIL falls back.) Ah--let it live--let it live.

PAUL: Now--you run in the house and take our things out of the grips.

PHIL: Is there any other little thing I can do for you?

PAUL: Not till after I've had my lunch.

PHIL: Thank you, sir! (PHIL looks a starved look at him--exits into house--stumbling over bundles.) (ROSE is heard singing off-stage chorus of "My Little Persian Rose"--enters humming.)

PAUL: (As he hears her singing.) It's Miss Madison--I know her sweet voice!

ROSE: (As she enters and sees PAUL, she stops singing, embarra.s.sed.) Oh, I didn't know you were here. (The music continues faintly in orchestra.)

PAUL: I'm not--I'm in heaven when I hear you sing.

ROSE: Oh, I hope you don't mean my singing kills you.

PAUL: No--for _then_, I'm afraid I wouldn't be in heaven. What was that song?

ROSE: An old Persian poet taught me the words.

PAUL: (Ardently.) Oh, how I love--those words. Are you going back to America with Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler?

ROSE: (Sadly.) No, I must stay here in Persia.

PAUL: (Forgetting himself.) Hooray!

ROSE: Ah--but you don't know.

PAUL: Know what?

ROSE: Don't ask me now--good day, sir. (She courtesies and runs off.)

(Music in orchestra stops.)

PAUL: I wonder what she meant by that?

PHIL: (Rushing on.) I've taken out your things. Now, may I eat?

(Persian servant enters in haste.)

SERVANT: Oh please, sir, the Sheik has drunk three c.o.c.ktails, and Mrs. Schuyler says he is disgusting. Quick, get someone to take him home.

PAUL: Phil--do you hear? The Sheik's disgusting--take him home.

(Servants exit.)

PHIL: (As he exits.) Is there any little thing I can do for you?