A One Act Play
The Thingjimmy
By G. L. Horton
copyright © 1999
Geralyn Horton
Evening. A dorm room. ANDREA is doing her homework, CRESSIE is
off stage in the bathroom, preparing to go out.
CRESSIE (yells from offstage)
Shit! I'm out of hair spray. OK if I use yours ?
ANDREA (yells back)
Go right ahead, Cressie. (aside) As if I could stop you.
CRESSIE (yells)
Shit, shit, triple shit! What kind of shit is this?
ANDREA (aside)
How the hell should I know? (aloud) What's the problem?
CRESSIE (emerges from bathroom)
What ever were you thinking when you bought this stuff?
ANDREA
Well, I wasn't thinking it was hair spray. Can't you read?
CRESSIE
It's not in English!
ANDREA
Sorry.
CRESSIE
and it stinks!
ANDREA
I said I'm sorry. Maybe--
CRESSIE
What is this stuff? I mean, this is not the sort of scent associated
with girls who graduate Saint Savior's-- or go to this Godforsaken
college, even. Not any girl whose parents are paying her tuition.
ANDREA
What's that supposed to mean?
CRESSIE
Like you don't know, Andrea Wilton.
ANDREA
I was in a hurry when I bought it.
CRESSIE
So was I—but now I need another shampoo. What a fucking*
dilemma—be late for the date or show up reeking and have
him run away shrieking. Shit! Now I'm spewing fucking* poetry!
* a milder word may be substituted in localities where nice girls
don't cuss.
ANDREA
It's not that bad.
CRESSIE
Like I believe you, miz taste-for-turds?
ANDREA
It's just perfume.
CRESSIE
Le stews of Calcutta. Eau de dumpster.
ANDREA
Drop it, will you?
CRESSIE
Absolutely. On your head, or into el garBAGE? (throws it away)
Hummph. That's weird. Now I can barely smell it
ANDREA
I told you. It's not that bad..!
CRESSIE
You wish. I know what it is. The stench must be numbing my nose.
ANDREA
Use my dry shampoo.
CRESSIE
Your what?
ANDREA
In the fat green canister---you brush it through your hair.
CRESSIE
It would work?
ANDREA
My sister uses it when she comes back from the stables.
CRESSIE
Compared to your crap cologne, Andrea, honest horse manure is
no problem.
ANDREA
Just try it, Cressie. OK?
CRESSIE
You mean this?
ANDREA
That's it.
CRESSIE
Can you do it for me?
ANDREA
I'll get a towel.
CRESSIE
Better get two or three. I'll take off my top, but I haven't got
time to change all over.
ANDREA
It's brush it in, brush it out.
CRESSIE
Careful you don't slop it. Watch out!
ANDREA
Tuck it all under the towel.
CRESSIE
Is the stink coming out?
ANDREA
I don't smell anything.
CRESSIE
Well, you..! (sniffs) It's better. It is better.
ANDREA
Good. Now let's put you back together.
CRESSIE
Oh, God. You did it.
ANDREA
What?
CRESSIE
You slopped.
ANDREA
Where?
CRESSIE
On my best lace underpants, no less.
ANDREA
It wipes right off.
CRESSIE
Leaving a spot of slop.
ANDREA
It won't show.
CRESSIE
Andrea. You slopped me.
ANDREA
Cressie, who's to know?
CRESSIE
I will! I'll know. I am not going out with slopped underpants.
And since this is my last clean pair of good ones, and it's all
your fault, I'm just going to help myself to the very best pair
I can find in your drawer, Andrea Wilton. And you'd better not
say anything, because--- Andrea! What's this?
ANDREA
Underwear?
CRESSIE
I would hardly call this --thing-- underwear.
ANDREA
What would you call it?
CRESSIE
I have no idea.
ANDREA
Me, either.
CRESSIE
You must have some idea--it's in your underwear drawer.
ANDREA
No. Not me. I mean, I have some idea that there's a name for things
like that, but what it might be....
CRESSIE
More important than what it's called, how did it get here?
ANDREA
I...uh...
CRESSIE
You must have walked up to a counter and described it to a clerk,
most probably a male clerk, in some --shop. In a part of town
where I've certainly never been and I wouldn't think you had either!
ANDREA
Well, Cressie, it may be that I have hidden depths beyond your
thinking. There are more things in--
CRESSIE
Did you just point to it? MY God, was it on display?
ANDREA
Cressie, come on. You know I couldn't have--
CRESSIE
Right out there on display, on like a big doll of a mannequin?
Yuk!
ANDREA
It's not what you--
CRESSIE
Andrea, that is so gross I don't see how they wouldn't be arrested.
And you, too, for buying it.
ANDREA
I didn't buy it!
CRESSIE (begins to dress and primp for going out)
Oh, now you didn't?
ANDREA
Of course not. How could I do something like that? Walk into some
sleazy shop...
CRESSIE
So where'd it come from, then?
ANDREA
Mail order.
CRESSIE
Mail order? Mail order! You mean sent here to this address so
every pervert can know where you live, and I live here, too?
ANDREA
Cressie, that was a joke.
CRESSIE
Very funny, perverts. Ha ha ha ha ha.
ANDREA
You used to have a sense of humor.
CRESSIE
I used to think my roommate was more or less normal.
ANDREA
Thanks bunches.
CRESSIE
Just how did this obscene thingajimmy come into your possession?
ANDREA
It was a -- gift. For my 18th birthday.
CRESSIE
What kind of creep gives a girl--?
ANDREA
A clown creep. A girlfriend with a warped sense of humor.
CRESSIE
Like who?
ANDREA
I'm not going to tell you.
CRESSIE
A student here? Or somebody from home?
ANDREA
I'm not exposing somebody I like, who likes me, to one of your
morality tantrums. It was a joke, and I thought it was a cute
one. Just because my friend and I have a sense of humor and you're
suddenly all prim and proper--
CRESSIE
That's disgusting! (throws thingajimmy garment into wastebasket)
Don't think this is the end of it, Andrea. I haven't time to talk
now, but when I get back--
ANDREA
I'm not waiting up, Cressie. I'll be sound asleep, right in there,
behind my locked door. No cornering me at breakfast, either, roomie--
cause you know better. My friends and my jokes and my-- thingajimmy
underwear-- are none of your business. I'm 18, now. I'm a big
girl. Big girls deserve their privacy. If you don't believe me,
ask Jonathan. See what he says.
(CRESSIE looks shocked, then troubled, and slowly EXITS)
ANDREA puts on some sexy music, pulls the cologne and the thingajimmy
out of the wastebasket, and begins transforming herself into a
big bad girl.
THE END
|
by 
