DEAD TUESDAY
Written by Scott Cherney
extended excerpt
DEAD TUESDAY
(PREVIOUSLY TITLED: THE PERILS OF FRANCOIS)
An Interactive Murder Mystery
Written by Scott Cherney
Based on characters created by Jann Harrison
Copyright 2014 by Scott Cherne
Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that DEAD TUESDAY is subject to royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, the British Commonwealth including Canada and all other countries of the Copyright Union.
All inquiries concerning performance rights for DEAD TUESDAY may be directed to the author: E-mail: [email protected]
Cast of Characters (in order of appearance)
Bob Boudreaux-Oozing with Southern charm and smarm, Bob is the host of a Mardi Gras ball in his French Quarter family mansion. Bob lost all his fortune and is now living off his wife.
Bunny Boudreaux-Bob’s wife, rather a bully of a woman who now owns the Boudreaux name, is loud and often obnoxious. In her defense, she’s also possessed by the spirit of a long-dead voodoo priestess.
Dee Dee Demure-Bob’s personal and very private secretary. Dumber than a box of rocks or is she the most devious one in the room?
Lola Piccard-A wronged woman in love with a man who doesn’t know she exists. She gives airs of being a woman of mystery and high drama, though it’s only a ruse to cover up her broken heart.
Inspector Pierre Perrier-A French policeman with a very obviously fake accent who is actually Dee Dee’s cousin Dennis, a nitwit of the highest order.
Francois Andre Midas Fibian V-An international playboy, philanthropist and all around bon vivant who is going through a transitional phase in his life. In short, he’s turning into a frog.
Location: The grand ballroom of the palatial Boudreaux Manor in New Orleans’ French Quarter during Mardi Gras
This is an interactive script allowing for audience participation with scripted lines that can be provided to select participants prior to curtain. This script also contains two possible endings which can be alternated during the run if so desired.
DEAD TUESDAY
ACT I
(Bob Boudreaux enters to a fanfare of “When the Saints Go Marching In” wearing a tuxedo and a Mardi Gras eye mask. He pulls it off and gregariously greets his guests.)
Bob: Greetings and salutations, you lovely, lovely people! Welcome to the Big Easy at the best time you’ll ever have into your entire life-Mardi Gras time! It is an honor and pleasure to receive you here in my home-not only New Orleans but in my ever-so-humble abode. I am speaking about palatial Boudreaux Manor, the crownin’ jewel in the tiara known as Vieux Caree-or as you might call it, the French Quarter. Allow me to introduce myself to those of you out of the loop for one reason or another and for those of you that are just plain loopy-slow down on them Sazeracs now, especially the distinguished members of the press that we have here tonight. I know how you newspaper people are. It’s early yet. My name is Bob Boudreaux and this is indeed my family estate. Pretty, ain’t it? You make yourselves to home now, y’hear?
Bunny: (off) Bobby Lee? Bobby Lee!
Bob: Relax, folks. That’s not the smoke alarm.
Bunny: (off) You gonna introduce me or what?
Bob: I was fixin’ to.
Bunny: (off) Well, get to it then!
Bob: Those liltin’ tones belong to my co-host for this evening and in life itself, put your hands together won’t you please for my darlin’ wife, Mrs. Bunny Boudreaux!
(Bunny Boudreaux enters, also resplendent with a colorful Mardi Gras eye mask on a stick.)
Bunny: Hey, y’all! How you doin’? Thanks for comin’ out tonight. (to Bob-sotto) About damn time. I was growin’ moss back there.
Bob: Green’s a good color for you, cherie.
Bunny: Black’s gonna be a good color for your right eye if’n you mess with me tonight, Bobby Lee.
Bob: Ain’t she sweet? That’s why I call her my lil’ Bunny Beignet. Sugar, why don’t you tell the nice folks about our benefit this evening?
Bunny: I’d be happy to, honey, if you’d jus’ give me some room. (hip bumps him) See if you can rustle me up a beverage, would you now? As the chairman of the Bunny Boudreaux Foundation, it is my duty to pick a specific charity to honor at each year’s Mardi Gras Ball here at Boudreaux Manor. The proceeds for this year’s charity event go to the Save the Louisiana Nutria Fund. I don’t how many of you realize how many of these furry critters are hunted for their pelts and many consider them to be pests. Why, it’s said that they are destroying the wetlands by gnawing their way from one end of the Mississippi River to the other. Why, I think that’s a crime. Feast your eyes on this here cute lil’ fella. (holds up poster board of an orange-toothed nutria) Look at that lil’ sweetie! I call this one Mr. Chompers. Yes, his pelt would make a warm pair of fuzzy slippers. But honestly, is this not the face of an angel? So tonight, dig down deep and help this poor defenseless critter before he ends up on somebody’s feet.
Bob: Thank you, that was inspirin’. (to Bunny) Put that ugly rat down. Folks are goin’ to eat soon. (to crowd) Ladies and gentleman, what say we get this party started? As y’all know, it’s Mardi Gras and now’s the time to kick up your heels higher than they’ve ever been kicked before! So as we say In the Big Easy: Laissez les bons temps rouler! In other words, let the good times roll!
Bunny: Oh, my land! All this excitement has left me positively parched. Fetch me a drink like I asked you to, Bobby Lee.
Bob: I think maybe you should pace yourself tonight, darlin’.
Bunny: Why, Bobby Lee, how you do go on. I haven’t had a drop this entire evening.
Bob: That’s because you emptied the entire contents of the liquor cabinet this afternoon.
Bunny: That’s not true. I didn’t touch the vermouth. I’m thirsty, Bobby Lee!
Bob: It’s like I’m married to a camel.
Bunny: Don’t speak to me that way, not now, not here, not ever. I don’t have to remind you of who’s in charge here, do I? This may be Boudreaux Manor, but don’t forget who’s paying for all of this. I am. You’re so broke that it ain’t no joke.
Bob: Bunny, there is a time and a place for everything. This is neither one. If you’re thirsty, then go suck on an ice cube. (wind howls off) Whoa! Where’d that wind come from? Listen to that outside. Weather report didn’t mention any storm a’comin’.
Bunny: There’s more where that came from.
Bob: What’s that supposed to mean? You think you’re Mother Nature or do you think you can buy the weather too?
Bunny: Would you like to find out? Like I said, I require a beverage, Bobby Lee.
Bob: I wish you’d stop calling me Bobby Lee.
Bunny: Why? Cuz that’s what your mama called you before she tanned your hide?
Bob: My mama never tanned my hide. She got the nanny to do it.
Bunny: How embarrassing for you.
Bob: Until I got older, then I grew accustomed to her spanks.
Bunny: Do you expect me to listen to your disgusting stories without a drink in my hand?
Bob: (sighs) Will you promise to sip it slowly like a lady?
Bunny: I’ll even extend a pinky finger.
Bob: Someone please fetch Mrs. Boudreaux a cocktail so I may continue. Ladies and gentleman, I would like to bring to your attention that tonight we will be graced by a very special guest of honor. My very good friend, media mogul and philanthropist, Mr. Francois Andre Midas Fibian the Fifth should be joining us momentarily.
Bunny: Where is your boy anyway?
Bob: He’ll be here.
Bunny: We’re all waitin’ with bated breath.
Bob: What kind of bait…night crawlers? No wonder you drown them with alcohol. (wind howls again)
Bunny: I’m warnin’ you…
Bob: You are positively delusional, cher. (to audience) Don’t you fret about that wind, ladies and gentlemen. It’s too early in the year for hurricane season here. Even if we were, we’d just hunker down inside here and have ourselves a good old fashioned hurricane party.
Bunny: If not, maybe we’ll just drink a bunch of hurricanes anyway.
Bob: As if you need an excuse.
Bunny: Bobby Lee…
Bob: Bunny Boo Boo…
Bunny: (taken aback suddenly) You haven’t called me that in a month of Sundays. You used to whisper it in my ear.
Bob: Cher, with all your quirks, annoyances and foibles, you must know how I really feel about you. Why do you think I stick around?
Bunny: You mean it’s not just my money?
Bob: Well, not just the money. It’s also the honey, Bunny.
Bunny: Robert E. Lee Boudreaux, you are still one sweet talkin’ devil.
Bob: Deep down you know there’s nothing that can ever come between you and me…
(Enter Dee Dee Demure, borderline trashy with several strands of Mardi Gras beads around her neck and mask.)
Dee Dee: Yoo-hoo! Mr. Boudreaux! Here I am!
Bunny: (breaking away from Bob) What is that two dollar tramp doing at MY Mardi Gras Ball?
Bob: Dee Dee? She’s my personal secretary.
Bunny: How…personal…is…she? (Bob clears throat uncomfortably)
Dee Dee: (to audience) Hi! Good to see you. Oh, what a bunch of colorful people! Y’all look like a big bowl of Froot Loops. (to Bunny)Evening, Miz Boudreaux. Can you guess who I am?
Bunny: One of them Kardashian girls?
Dee Dee: Land sakes! (pulls off mask) No, it’s me, Dee Dee Demure.
Bunny: I was close.
Dee Dee: Mr. Boudreaux, I am so sorry I’m late. I’ll be glad to work overtime whenever you want.
Bunny: (to Bob) How can you pass up an offer like that?
Dee Dee: I had some trouble getting here. The weather outside is positively frightful. There are trees blown over everywhere and a power line is down on my street. That wind is so strong, I could barely walk the streets.
Bunny: (after a beat) This is what y’all call low hangin’ fruit.
Bob: Well, we’re so glad you made it safe and sound, Miss Demure.
Bunny: And look all the lovely beads you have.
Dee Dee: I got all these from some nice boys on Bourbon Street. All I had to do was…
Bob: Yes, we know how you got them.
Bunny: And so many too. No wonder you’re late.
Dee Dee: Miz Bunny, may I say what an honor it is to be here tonight for such a worthy cause. Eating right is so important these days.
Bunny: Say what?
Dee Dee: Your charity. (Bob and Bunny look confused) I’m a firm believer in good nutrition.
Bob: No, Miss Demure. This is about saving the endangered nutria.
Dee Dee: What’s a nutria?
Bunny: (holding up poster) This is a nutria.
Dee Dee: (shrieks) Eek! That looks like a vampire beaver!
Bunny: That’s Mr. Chompers!
Dee Dee: Oh, I’m sorry, Miz Bunny. Is he kin?
Bunny: (about to smack Dee Dee with poster) Why you…
Bob: Bunny! Calm down, darlin’. She’s jus’ confused is all.
Dee Dee: I apologize, Miz Bunny. My nerves are a lil’ on edge after walkin’ through the French Quarter at night all by myself.
Bunny: May I ask why didn’t you bring an escort?
Dee Dee: That’s what else happened. He bailed on me at the last second.
Bunny: I’m sorry, what? He posted bail for you?
Dee Dee: No, he ditched me. Can you believe it? Honestly, the nerve of some people. But there was no way I was going to miss this party so I decided to show up stag.
Bunny: I’m sure it’s not the first stag party you’ve been to.
Dee Dee: Oh, Miz Boudreaux! (laughs, then suddenly) I don’t get it.
Bunny: No, but I’m sure you will. (turns on her heels, glares at Bob as the wind howls) You hear that, Bobby Lee? I am only going to say this once. You best be on your best behavior…or else. (walks out amongst the audience) Enjoy the festivities, y’all! Where is that man with my cold drink?
Dee Dee: What was that all about?
Bob: She thinks she’s Hurricane Bunny, but I think she’s just full of hot air. She’s becomin’ more unhinged by the second. Did you bring the syringe, Dee Dee?
Dee Dee: It’s in my purse, all loaded and ready to go.
Bob: Give it to me. When the time comes, I’ll hand it back and you dispose of it.
Dee Dee: I remember.
Bob: Good girl.
Dee Dee: Oh, Bob, I missed you. I only just saw you this morning but I couldn’t wait to see you again.
Bob: Soon you’ll be able to see me whenever and wherever you want.
Dee Dee: Wherever? How about your boudoir, Mr. Boudreaux?
Bob: Are you asking if there’s going to be a hot time in the ol’ town tonight? That’s a guar-an-tee, cher. For now, we’d better keep all this on the down low.
Dee Dee: Ooh, I like the sound of that, Bobolicious.
Bob: That doesn’t mean what you think it means. We’d better cool it for the time being. Besides, we still have guests arriving.
Dee Dee: You think your wife suspects us?
Bob: She suspects everybody. For a while there, she thought I was carryin’ on with the upstairs maid.
Dee Dee: Were you?
Bob: Only when she was downstairs. But there’s been no one since I met you.
Dee Dee: (swatting Bob’s arm) Better not be. I just want you all to myself. That’s why we’re doing this, isn’t it?
Bob: Well, that and some beaucoup bucks, baby. By this time tomorrow, we’re going to have it all.
Dee Dee: Mm, I can’t wait.
Bob: Don’t you fret. I’ll make sure you get some lagniappe for your trouble. And you know what means…a little somethin’ extra. (Bunny re-enters, gives Dee Dee a shove) Now get to work, Miss Demure! Bunny, I see you rustled up a cocktail for yourself.
Bunny: This is number three. It’s a big house. And what have you rustled up, Bobby Lee?
Bob: Only my dandruff, my dear. Say, who is that walking in right now?
(Enter Lola Piccard, dressed in a trench coat, a big brimmed hat and sunglasses, looking rather mysterious along with Inspector Pierre Perrier. With her dark eyewear, Lola is finding it a bit difficult to navigate up to Bob and Bunny who both look perplexed.)
Lola: Good evening or should I say…hello.
Bob: The voice is familiar, but I just can’t seem to make out…
Bunny: Oh, I know who this is.
(Lola whips off sunglasses theatrically)
Bob: As I live and breathe, Miss Lola Piccard, I do declare, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?
Lola: I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Boudreaux.
Bob: Oh, Miss Piccard, why so formal? I’m the same ol’ Bob I’ve always been.
Lola: Pity.
Bob: And of course you know…
Lola: Miss Bunny, it’s been forever.
Bunny: Has it? It seems like only yesterday and you know what? I hated yesterday. Lovely to see you again, Lola. We’re delighted you made it to our little soiree.
Lola: Are you delighted, Bunny? Are you really delighted?
Bunny: (through gritted teeth) Of course. Why wouldn’t I want to see you again? (cue thunder and lightning)
Bob: Funny how that keeps happenin’. C’mon now, ladies. Let’s let bygones be bygones. Lola, I didn’t think our invitation would find you since we weren’t quite sure where you might be.
Lola: Your invitation found me in Tangier. It was delivered by a brutish one-eyed man with a horrid scar that across his entire face and a hook for a hand that dripped with blood. I believe he was the mailman.
Bob: Well, as long you got the invite. And who might this gentleman be?
Lola: Forgive my manners. Allow me to introduce you to...
Perrier: Chief Inspector Pierre Perrier of the French Police. That is in France. Which is in Europe.
Bunny: Oh, that France.
Perrier: It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Madame. (kisses her hand)
Bunny: Your moustache tickles my knuckles.
Perrier: Monsieur Boudreaux. (extends hand)
Bob: A handshake will suffice, inspector. (they shake as Perrier clicks his heels) How do you two know each other?
Lola: We’ve only just met.
Perrier: If I may, Mademoiselle Piccard and I met in the boarding area at Charles de Gaulle Airport. That is in Paris. Which is in France.
Bunny: The same one In Europe?
Perrier: Oui. The two of us struck up a conversation and got along so famously, I was able to switch seats with another passenger so we could sit together all the way to Atlanta. That is in Georgia. Which is in the United…
Bob: We know where it is!
Perrier: Coincidentally enough, New Orleans was to be my final destination. Mademoiselle Piccard most graciously asked me to be her escort this evening and how could I refuse?
Bunny: By saying no.
Bob: This your first time in our country?
Perrier: It is indeed.
Bunny: Business or pleasure?
Perrier: Pleasure is my business and my business is my pleasure.
Bob: I don’t follow.
Perrier: I am on holiday or, how you say, the vacation, oui?
Bob: Bingo. Inspector Perrier, I know you’re off-duty, but now maybe things won’t too out of hand with these here revelers knowing the po-po is on the premises.
Perrier: Po-po?
Bob: Sorry. American slang for the police.
Perrier: Ah. Pardon moi, Monsieur Bordeaux…
Bob: Boudreaux.
Perrier: Pardon, Monsieur Boudreaux, if you would be ever so kind, perhaps you could direct me to la toilete? It was a long drive from the airport and I mean the one in Paris. Which is in France.
Bob: Right through those doors. Third door to your left. Which is in New Orleans.
Perrier: Merci. (exits, clicks heels again)
Bunny: Where’s the Inspector goin’?
Bob: The po-po went to pee-pee.
Bunny: What a weird duck he is. And what is up with that accent? He sounds like Pepe Lepew’s veterinarian.
Bob: Excuse me, honey, but have you seen which direction Miss Demure was headed?
Bunny: Probably outside getting more beads. Why do you care where she is?
Bob: I need help with the party, darlin’. Lots to do still. I want your event to be a success. It’s all for you, my sweet.
Bunny: As it should be. But I swear if you are up to somethin’ with that bimbo… (lights flicker as wind howls again)
Bob: I know. I know. It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature. You stay here and be the good hostess that you are. I’ll be right back.
Bunny: And fetch me another drink! (he exits again) So, Lola Piccard, welcome home or do you have a home you call your own anymore?
Lola: Do you really care? You are the one who chased me away.
Bunny: You came back, didn’t you? Just like a bad penny. Where you been?
Lola: Everywhere. Everywhere and anywhere. Anywhere but here. I needed to find myself, but I never did. I thought I could help the unfortunate and the impoverished of the world, so I journeyed to the poorest and most destitute parts of the Earth. They all sent me away.
Bunny: Why?
Lola: They said I was bringing them down.
Bunny: You poor lost soul. Why don’t just sing us the blues?
Lola: That happens to be exactly what I did when I left America. I returned to show business, if you want to call it that. I had to make a living somehow. I sang in every cheap bar, saloon and gin joint from Albania to Zanzibar. I ended up in a broken down nightclub in Tangier, pouring drinks between songs.
Bunny: What’s with the get-up? Have you become a spy?
Lola: Of course not. I prefer to remain anonymous, that’s all.
Bunny: But everybody knows who you are.
Lola: Not everybody.
Bunny: Well, ain’t you jus’ an international woman of misery?
Lola: Mystery.
Bunny: Suit yourself.
Lola: I insist that this bad blood between us cease and desist. I’m going to tell you for the very last time and I shall never speak of this again. I have never, I repeat, never had any designs on your husband past, present or future.
Bunny: You jus’ flew half-way ‘round the world for no reason at all.
Lola: I have my reasons.
Bunny: And one of them is not Bobby Lee Boudreaux?
Lola: I came to see someone else.
Bunny: Don’t tell me it’s…
Lola: Francois. (strikes overly-dramatic pose)
Bunny: Well, don’t that take the King Cake. You’re sweet on Francois Fibian? Well, get in line, darlin’! Francois got mo’ ladies than he know what to do with.
Lola: That’s what I gather.
Bunny: That man don’ have no lil’ black book. He got himself a library.
Lola: I’ve heard that.
Bunny: The mo’, the merrier, he say!
Lola: All right already! I understand he likes the ladies and the ladies like him. Your invitation said he was the guest of honor and that’s why I’m here.
Bunny: Are you sure the other reason might be some…unfinished business?
Lola: That’s all behind me.
Bunny: Good. It’s all behind me too. But let me give you a lil’ heads up, Miss Piccard. You stay away from Bob Boudreaux-far away. Or what happened to you last time is gonna be a drop in the bucket compared to the deluge I’m gonna drop on your head. Enjoy the party, Lola dear. Go ‘head. Mingle.
Lola: I want to be alone. (slinks off to the side)
Bunny: Good idea. Bobby Lee? Where is that man with my drink?
(Dee Dee and Bob, holding a cocktail glass, enter standing on either side of Bunny. In the meantime, Lola pulls a voodoo doll out of her purse. She pokes doll’s backside with pin, causing Bunny to jump.)
Bunny: Ouch! I got bit by a skeeter!
Lola: It’s all behind you, Bunny.
Bunny indignantly grabs the glass from Bob and downs it.
Bunny: Another! Oh, forget it. You take too long. I’ll get it myself…again! (exits rubbing her hip)
Bob: Lola, what do you have there?
Lola: (sticking doll back in purse) Nothing. Nothing at all.
Bob: Have you met Dee Dee Demure, my private secretary? This is Lola Piccard, an old friend of the family.
Dee Dee: You don’t look that old. Botox?
Perrier re-enters
Bob: Ah, Inspector Perrier! I trust the facilities were accommodating.
Perrier: Magnifique.
Bob: All right then. It’s just a bathroom, not the Louvre. Inspector Perrier, this here is my secretary, Miss Dee Dee Demure.
Perrier: Mademoiselle. (clicks heels and bends to kiss her hand when Bob stops him)
Bob: Wait. Did you wash your hands?
Perrier: But of course.
Bob: Go ahead on then.
Perrier: (plants a smooch on Dee Dee’s hand) Charmed, I am sure.
Dee Dee: (charmed) Oh, Inspector!
Perrier: So Mademoiselle Demure…
Dee Dee: I prefer Dee Dee, unless I’m under arrest for some silly reason. (laughs uncomfortably with Bob) Am I?
Perrier: No, no, no. I am off the duty. Besides I am out of my…how you say… jurisdiction?
Lola: Jurisdiction.
Perrier: Merci.
Dee Dee: He’s out of his what?
Lola: We’re not in France.
Dee Dee: I know that. Does he?
Perrier: So, Mademoiselle, you work under Monsieur Boudreaux?
Dee Dee: How did you guess? (to Bob) Oh, he’s a good detective, he is.
Bob: Inspector, can I get you a beverage or a cocktail weenie or something?
Inspector: Not just now, merci. However, Monsieur Boudreaux…
Bob: We’re all just folks around here. She’s Dee Dee, that’s Lola and I’m Bob. You probably don’t want to be called Inspector all night long.
Perrier: I prefer Chief Inspector.
Bob: Yeah, you’re French, alright. You wanted to ask me something?
Perrier: Qui, Monsieur Bor…pardon moi…. Boob, I wanted to know about this Francois Fibian.
Bob: He should be here any moment now.
Perrier: What Lola here told me on the flight over was very curious. He is your friend, no?
Bob: He is my friend, yes. My best friend in all the world as a matter of fact. I’ve known him my entire life. Our families go back several generations. Francois and I went to boarding school together and ended up attending Harvard Law School at the very same time. However he graduated with honors while I…well, I couldn’t buy myself a degree otherwise I would have. I pooped out in the second year. The law just wasn’t for me. Thank goodness I had a rich family to fall back on.
Perrier: Fascinating, but about Monsieur Fibian…
Bob: You looking for a little dirt on Francois, Inspector? You’re barking up the wrong gum tree.
Lola: How dare you? You are a guest here. Don’t make me regret inviting you.
Perrier: But Mademoiselle Lola, you seem so taken with him. Almost obsessed. Yet he claims he does not know her.
Lola turns away dramatically
Bob: That’s Francois for you. They all fall under his spell.
Dee Dee: I can’t wait to meet him myself.
Bob: See what I mean? If I could bottle what Francois has, I’d sell it.
Bunny: (entering) Bottle? Is there a bottle out here?
Bob: The Chief Inspector and I are jus’ talkin’ ‘bout Francois.
Bunny: You two? Ha! You need the female perspective if y’all are talkin’ ‘bout Francois Fibian!!
(Francois Fibian glides right in at the final mention of his name with the wind howling behind him, then strikes a pose dead center. He is dressed to the nines in a smart tuxedo but something seems a bit off. Maybe it’s due to the realistic frog mask he’s wearing. That is, unless of course, he’s not wearing a mask.)
Francois: Did someone call my name?
(All mouths are agape-they look to each other then back at him. Bob approaches.)
Bob: Well, look what the wind blew in! Francois? Francois? Is that you?
Francois: And who else would it be but the one and only me. Qui, Monsieur Boudreaux, c’est moi, Francois!
Bob: Francois Fibian, you ol’ carpetbagger you! (they embrace) Ladies and gentleman, it is my esteemed privilege to present to you our guest of honor. He is man of the world and believe you me, the world needs this man.
Francois: Oh, Bob, you do go on. No, please. Do go on.
Bob: He is an activist, a philanthropist and the most generous man I know, generous with his money, his time and his big ol’ heart. He is the founder of the Fibian Foundation, the fine charitable organization that helped us down here in Louisiana in our times of crisis during Katrina and that nasty oil spill out there in the Gulf. And this year, he’ll be the Grand Marshall of the Mardi Gras parade. Please give up for the best friend I ever had and the best friend anyone could ever have, all the way from Baton Rouge, the one and only Francois Andre Midas Fibian!
Francois: The Fifth. I come from a long line of Fibians.
Bob: They saved the best for last.
Francois: I hope I’m not the last! Hello, everybody. I trust this will be an evening to remember if I have anything to do with it…and I’ll make sure that I do
Bob: Isn’t he a charmer?
Francois: No more charming than you, my friend.
Bunny: Why don’t you boys should get a room?
Francois: Bunny! You great big beautiful doll! Come here to me !
Bunny: I’m a little bigger’n las’ time you seen me.
Francois: There’s just more of you to love.
Bunny: Francois Fibian, you are sweeter than a praline! Thank you for supportin’ my charity!
Francois: Saving endangered nutria. That is so you, Bunny.
Bunny: (holds up sign) Have you seen Mr. Chompers?
Francois: I can’t say that I have. (sotto) Now I can’t unsee Mr. Chompers.
Bob: What happened to you, Francois? I sent a car for you over two hours ago.
Francois: It’s this crazy weather. Traffic is so horrible in front of the hotel. It wouldn’t budge. So I decided to take advantage of the strong winds.
Bob: What did you do?
Francois: I stepped into the nearest sporting goods store and bought myself a hang glider.
Bob: You flew all the way into The French Quarter? You are a piece of work, ol’ boy. Look at you all set for Mardi Gras. That is one pretty mask.
Francois: It’s...not a mask.
Bob: What?
Francois: It is all me, I am afraid.
Bob: What do you mean it’s all you?
Francois: It’s a long story, but, well, what you see is what you get.
Bob: But my friend, this is terrible. You should see a doctor…or a vet.
Francois: Bob, I’m fine. I really and truly am. It’s just that…
Dee Dee: You’re a frog?
Francois: Well, yes and no. And who might you be, my dear?
Bunny: She ain’t no brain surgeon, I can tell you that.
Bob: This is my personal secretary, Dee Dee Demure.
Dee Dee: He’s a frog.
Bob: Ssh.
Dee Dee: Why are you shushing me? It’s no secret. Look at him!
Bob: You’re embarrassin’ him.
Dee Dee: Why? Is he blushing? I can’t tell.
Francois: Bob, it’s okay. The Emperor has no clothes. She sees what she sees, isn’t that right?
Dee Dee: You’re a frog.
Francois: See what I mean?
Dee Dee: I didn’t say he wasn’t cute. (to Francois) There is somethin’ about you…
Francois: Tell me something I don’t know. I am what you might call…a man in transition. (to DEE DEE) And you, my dear, are a delight (kisses Dee Dee’s hand.
Dee Dee: Am I gonna get warts now?
Bunny: You are a wart.
Francois: Oh this is a Boudreaux party all right. Let the games begin! (laughs, then pulls Bob aside) Say, old friend, is Bunny alright? She doesn’t seem herself tonight.
Bob: Look who’s talkin’.
Francois: I mean she’s unusually aggressive, even for Bunny.
Bob: My darlin’ wife is more than in her cups this evening. She’s into the whole dang tea set. And what about you? You want to explain your…predicament?
Francois: Later, my friend. Introduce me to your other guests. (looking toward Lola) Starting with this young lady here… (Interrupting, Perrier steps forward and clears his throat theatrically) Please don’t tell me you have a frog in your throat.
Bob: Francois, this gentleman is Chief Inspector…
Perrier: Pierre Perrier of the French Surete (sur-eh-tay). A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Fibian.
Francois: Bonsoir, Inspector.
Perrier: Chief Inspector, cie vous plait.
Francois: Of the Surete?
Perrier: But of course.
Francois: Traffic division?
Bob: Francois…
Francois: A little joke.
Perrier: Oui. Very little. Your reputation precedes you, Monsieur Fibian…as does mine. Surely you have heard my name.
Francois: Surely I have not.
Perrier: Perhaps you are familiar with the famous case of Jacques the Stripper?
Bob: Jacques the Stripper? Oh, I’ve heard of him. He was that male dancer in Paris who killed his wives like Bluebeard. Must have been, what, a half dozen women or so.
Perrier: Bravo, Monsieur Bordeaux…uh, Boob. Oui, Jacques Larue was the most notorious murder case in France in the 21st century. I was the chief inspector of that case.
Francois: And what has happened to Jacques the Stripper? Safely behind the bars thanks to the efforts of one Chief Inspector Pierre Perrier.
Perrier: He was never caught.
Francois: And this is the reputation that precedes you?
Perrier: I was on Nancy Grace!
Francois: How lucky for her. (laughs) I kid you! I tease! That’s what I do, Chief Inspector. Tell him, Bob.
Bob: That’s what he does.
Francois: Pardon my wicked sense of humor. I mean no harm.
Perrier: But of course Monsieur Fibian.
Francois: Francois, if you please. We are all friends here. Please accept my apology if I have offended you. (offers hand)
Perrier: No offense taken. (grasps his hand that turns into a short contest, that Francois wins when Perrier releases first) Quite a strong grip you have there.
Francois: Perhaps you should work out more, my friend and maybe someday you will…get a grip. (laughs, joined in by Perrier, who breaks off and storms away) He’s certainly an odd bodkin.
Bob: Careful, ol’ buddy. I wouldn’t be pokin’ him with a stick the way you just did. He’s already got you in his cross hairs for some reason. There’s more to him than meets the eye.
Francois: But less than you might think. What is up with that accent?
Bob: He claims he’s from Paris. That’s in France. Which is in Europe.
Francois: What are you babbling about, Boudreaux? He’s about as French as a Volkswagen. And if he’s a policeman, what does that make me?
Bob: The way you’re looking at that young lady, I’d say you were a horny toad.
Francois: Don’t be crude, Bob. But if you weren’t crude, you wouldn’t be Bob, would you? So who is she? She seems so very familiar to me.
Bob: Don’t you recognize her? That’s Lola Piccard.
Francois: Alas, no. My memory is pretty darn kaput.
Bob: Does it have something to do with your…appearance?
Francois: You might say that. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, indulge, my friend as I attempt to reacquaint myself with Miss…?
Bob: Piccard. Lola Piccard. Hop to it then.
Francois: Cute. (to Lola) Good evening, Miss Piccard.
Lola: And to you, Mister Fibian.
Francois: Francois, if you please.
Lola: Lola, if you please.
Francois: It does please me. My friend Bob has informed me that we’ve met but you must excuse my faulty memory…
Lola: Have there been so many women in your life, Francois that you have lost track?
Francois: That’s not the case. If it were not for unfortunate circumstances, I would never forget someone like you.
Lola: Someone like me? What about just me?
Francois: Impossible. Help me out here, mon cheri…
Lola: I am not your cheri.
Francois: As you wish. Tell me, where did we meet? How did we meet? When did we meet?
Lola: Not why did we meet?
Francois: I can see why.
Lola: But do you know? I thought not. Do you have a light?
Francois: Certainly. (produces lighter and lights it)
Lola; I don’t smoke. (turns away)
Francois: Oh. Lola, does the sight of me in this condition repulse you? You keep turning away from me.
Lola: On the contrary, you are…you know what you are.
Francois: I am what I am.
Lola: Yes. You and Popeye. But you don’t know who I am. Or what I am. Or how I am. You know only that I am. And for someone like you, Francois Midas Andre Fibian the Fifth, that is not enough. (slinks away)
Francois: (after a long beat) I…see… No, I don’t.
Bob: That went well.
Francois: That was like ping pong. I think I need a drink.
Bunny: Bobby Lee! Bobby Lee!
Francois: Is that the smoke alarm?
Bob: ‘Scuse me for a moment.
Bunny: Bobby Lee, would you do somethin’ ‘bout this lil’ tart?
Bob: What seems to be the problem, dumplin’?
Dee Dee: I’m sorry, Mr. Boudreaux, but I was only tryin’ to help. I thought Miss Bunny might want some food to go with…so many cocktails.
Bunny: This is the cocktail hour and if I want cocktails, this is the sort of cocktail I want, not a shrimp cocktail! Bobby Lee, tell this tootsie roll what happens if I eat shrimp.
Bob: My wife is deathly allergic of all shellfish.
Dee Dee: Then why serve it to your guests?
Bunny: ‘Cuz I’m the only one who’s allergic!
Bob: Darlin’, I can send one of the waiters out for a muffaletta if you desire.
Bunny: I don’ wan’ no muffaletta!
Dee Dee: How about some clam dip?
Bunny: You’re a clam dip! Bobby Lee, I insist you take out the trash! By that, I mean that I want you to kick this trollop to the curb.
Francois: (stepping in to calm her) Bunny, Bunny, Bunny…look at me. This is no way to behave. Don’t do this to yourself. This is your night, isn’t it?
Bunny: Yes. Yes, it is.
Francois: You are the brightest star in the sky and tonight is your night to shine.
Bunny: Oh Francois, you know jus’ what to say.
Francois: Is this a party or isn’t it? To me, that means it’s time to dance!
Bunny: What do you suggest?
Francois: How about…a tango? What say we can dance the storm away!
(On Francois’ cue, the traditional tango music of “La Cumparsita” begins and all chose dance partners. Francois dances with Bunny and Bob with Dee Dee. Perrier bows to Lola and she whips off her coat, hat and sunglasses to reveal the most stunning woman in the room. They join the dance. Bob attempts to stab Bunny in the hip with the syringe. Francois is distracted by Lola and once Bunny is jabbed, she releases him to switch partners to Lola. Bob dances with Bunny and Dee Dee with Perrier. They seem to know each other. At the end of the dance, they strike a pose. Lola scampers away to Francois’ dismay. Bob looks to Dee Dee who gives him the okay sign as she places the syringe in Francois’ pocket. Bunny rubs her hip.)
Bunny: I think I got bit by another skeeter!
Francois: (looking toward Lola) And I think I got bit by the love bug.
Bunny; Dang it, Bobby Lee. You didn’t have to be so rough. First I get bit, then you smack me in the chest.
Bob: I’m so sorry, sweet heart. How ‘bout we all retire to the bar?
Bunny: Gangway! (exits)
Francois: Miss Piccard?
Lola: I have an escort. Pierre? (Perrier grabs her arm and smugly escorts her out of the room)
Dee Dee: (nuzzles up to Francois) I’m with you, Mister Fibian.
Francois: It would be my pleasure. (extends arm to her)
Dee Dee: Are you hungry? Can I get you some flies?
Francois: (turns back to Bob as they exit) Bob…help…
Bob: I’m right behind you!
CURTAIN
Copyright 2014 by Scott Cherney
Written by Scott Cherney
extended excerpt
DEAD TUESDAY
(PREVIOUSLY TITLED: THE PERILS OF FRANCOIS)
An Interactive Murder Mystery
Written by Scott Cherney
Based on characters created by Jann Harrison
Copyright 2014 by Scott Cherne
Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that DEAD TUESDAY is subject to royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, the British Commonwealth including Canada and all other countries of the Copyright Union.
All inquiries concerning performance rights for DEAD TUESDAY may be directed to the author: E-mail: [email protected]
Cast of Characters (in order of appearance)
Bob Boudreaux-Oozing with Southern charm and smarm, Bob is the host of a Mardi Gras ball in his French Quarter family mansion. Bob lost all his fortune and is now living off his wife.
Bunny Boudreaux-Bob’s wife, rather a bully of a woman who now owns the Boudreaux name, is loud and often obnoxious. In her defense, she’s also possessed by the spirit of a long-dead voodoo priestess.
Dee Dee Demure-Bob’s personal and very private secretary. Dumber than a box of rocks or is she the most devious one in the room?
Lola Piccard-A wronged woman in love with a man who doesn’t know she exists. She gives airs of being a woman of mystery and high drama, though it’s only a ruse to cover up her broken heart.
Inspector Pierre Perrier-A French policeman with a very obviously fake accent who is actually Dee Dee’s cousin Dennis, a nitwit of the highest order.
Francois Andre Midas Fibian V-An international playboy, philanthropist and all around bon vivant who is going through a transitional phase in his life. In short, he’s turning into a frog.
Location: The grand ballroom of the palatial Boudreaux Manor in New Orleans’ French Quarter during Mardi Gras
This is an interactive script allowing for audience participation with scripted lines that can be provided to select participants prior to curtain. This script also contains two possible endings which can be alternated during the run if so desired.
DEAD TUESDAY
ACT I
(Bob Boudreaux enters to a fanfare of “When the Saints Go Marching In” wearing a tuxedo and a Mardi Gras eye mask. He pulls it off and gregariously greets his guests.)
Bob: Greetings and salutations, you lovely, lovely people! Welcome to the Big Easy at the best time you’ll ever have into your entire life-Mardi Gras time! It is an honor and pleasure to receive you here in my home-not only New Orleans but in my ever-so-humble abode. I am speaking about palatial Boudreaux Manor, the crownin’ jewel in the tiara known as Vieux Caree-or as you might call it, the French Quarter. Allow me to introduce myself to those of you out of the loop for one reason or another and for those of you that are just plain loopy-slow down on them Sazeracs now, especially the distinguished members of the press that we have here tonight. I know how you newspaper people are. It’s early yet. My name is Bob Boudreaux and this is indeed my family estate. Pretty, ain’t it? You make yourselves to home now, y’hear?
Bunny: (off) Bobby Lee? Bobby Lee!
Bob: Relax, folks. That’s not the smoke alarm.
Bunny: (off) You gonna introduce me or what?
Bob: I was fixin’ to.
Bunny: (off) Well, get to it then!
Bob: Those liltin’ tones belong to my co-host for this evening and in life itself, put your hands together won’t you please for my darlin’ wife, Mrs. Bunny Boudreaux!
(Bunny Boudreaux enters, also resplendent with a colorful Mardi Gras eye mask on a stick.)
Bunny: Hey, y’all! How you doin’? Thanks for comin’ out tonight. (to Bob-sotto) About damn time. I was growin’ moss back there.
Bob: Green’s a good color for you, cherie.
Bunny: Black’s gonna be a good color for your right eye if’n you mess with me tonight, Bobby Lee.
Bob: Ain’t she sweet? That’s why I call her my lil’ Bunny Beignet. Sugar, why don’t you tell the nice folks about our benefit this evening?
Bunny: I’d be happy to, honey, if you’d jus’ give me some room. (hip bumps him) See if you can rustle me up a beverage, would you now? As the chairman of the Bunny Boudreaux Foundation, it is my duty to pick a specific charity to honor at each year’s Mardi Gras Ball here at Boudreaux Manor. The proceeds for this year’s charity event go to the Save the Louisiana Nutria Fund. I don’t how many of you realize how many of these furry critters are hunted for their pelts and many consider them to be pests. Why, it’s said that they are destroying the wetlands by gnawing their way from one end of the Mississippi River to the other. Why, I think that’s a crime. Feast your eyes on this here cute lil’ fella. (holds up poster board of an orange-toothed nutria) Look at that lil’ sweetie! I call this one Mr. Chompers. Yes, his pelt would make a warm pair of fuzzy slippers. But honestly, is this not the face of an angel? So tonight, dig down deep and help this poor defenseless critter before he ends up on somebody’s feet.
Bob: Thank you, that was inspirin’. (to Bunny) Put that ugly rat down. Folks are goin’ to eat soon. (to crowd) Ladies and gentleman, what say we get this party started? As y’all know, it’s Mardi Gras and now’s the time to kick up your heels higher than they’ve ever been kicked before! So as we say In the Big Easy: Laissez les bons temps rouler! In other words, let the good times roll!
Bunny: Oh, my land! All this excitement has left me positively parched. Fetch me a drink like I asked you to, Bobby Lee.
Bob: I think maybe you should pace yourself tonight, darlin’.
Bunny: Why, Bobby Lee, how you do go on. I haven’t had a drop this entire evening.
Bob: That’s because you emptied the entire contents of the liquor cabinet this afternoon.
Bunny: That’s not true. I didn’t touch the vermouth. I’m thirsty, Bobby Lee!
Bob: It’s like I’m married to a camel.
Bunny: Don’t speak to me that way, not now, not here, not ever. I don’t have to remind you of who’s in charge here, do I? This may be Boudreaux Manor, but don’t forget who’s paying for all of this. I am. You’re so broke that it ain’t no joke.
Bob: Bunny, there is a time and a place for everything. This is neither one. If you’re thirsty, then go suck on an ice cube. (wind howls off) Whoa! Where’d that wind come from? Listen to that outside. Weather report didn’t mention any storm a’comin’.
Bunny: There’s more where that came from.
Bob: What’s that supposed to mean? You think you’re Mother Nature or do you think you can buy the weather too?
Bunny: Would you like to find out? Like I said, I require a beverage, Bobby Lee.
Bob: I wish you’d stop calling me Bobby Lee.
Bunny: Why? Cuz that’s what your mama called you before she tanned your hide?
Bob: My mama never tanned my hide. She got the nanny to do it.
Bunny: How embarrassing for you.
Bob: Until I got older, then I grew accustomed to her spanks.
Bunny: Do you expect me to listen to your disgusting stories without a drink in my hand?
Bob: (sighs) Will you promise to sip it slowly like a lady?
Bunny: I’ll even extend a pinky finger.
Bob: Someone please fetch Mrs. Boudreaux a cocktail so I may continue. Ladies and gentleman, I would like to bring to your attention that tonight we will be graced by a very special guest of honor. My very good friend, media mogul and philanthropist, Mr. Francois Andre Midas Fibian the Fifth should be joining us momentarily.
Bunny: Where is your boy anyway?
Bob: He’ll be here.
Bunny: We’re all waitin’ with bated breath.
Bob: What kind of bait…night crawlers? No wonder you drown them with alcohol. (wind howls again)
Bunny: I’m warnin’ you…
Bob: You are positively delusional, cher. (to audience) Don’t you fret about that wind, ladies and gentlemen. It’s too early in the year for hurricane season here. Even if we were, we’d just hunker down inside here and have ourselves a good old fashioned hurricane party.
Bunny: If not, maybe we’ll just drink a bunch of hurricanes anyway.
Bob: As if you need an excuse.
Bunny: Bobby Lee…
Bob: Bunny Boo Boo…
Bunny: (taken aback suddenly) You haven’t called me that in a month of Sundays. You used to whisper it in my ear.
Bob: Cher, with all your quirks, annoyances and foibles, you must know how I really feel about you. Why do you think I stick around?
Bunny: You mean it’s not just my money?
Bob: Well, not just the money. It’s also the honey, Bunny.
Bunny: Robert E. Lee Boudreaux, you are still one sweet talkin’ devil.
Bob: Deep down you know there’s nothing that can ever come between you and me…
(Enter Dee Dee Demure, borderline trashy with several strands of Mardi Gras beads around her neck and mask.)
Dee Dee: Yoo-hoo! Mr. Boudreaux! Here I am!
Bunny: (breaking away from Bob) What is that two dollar tramp doing at MY Mardi Gras Ball?
Bob: Dee Dee? She’s my personal secretary.
Bunny: How…personal…is…she? (Bob clears throat uncomfortably)
Dee Dee: (to audience) Hi! Good to see you. Oh, what a bunch of colorful people! Y’all look like a big bowl of Froot Loops. (to Bunny)Evening, Miz Boudreaux. Can you guess who I am?
Bunny: One of them Kardashian girls?
Dee Dee: Land sakes! (pulls off mask) No, it’s me, Dee Dee Demure.
Bunny: I was close.
Dee Dee: Mr. Boudreaux, I am so sorry I’m late. I’ll be glad to work overtime whenever you want.
Bunny: (to Bob) How can you pass up an offer like that?
Dee Dee: I had some trouble getting here. The weather outside is positively frightful. There are trees blown over everywhere and a power line is down on my street. That wind is so strong, I could barely walk the streets.
Bunny: (after a beat) This is what y’all call low hangin’ fruit.
Bob: Well, we’re so glad you made it safe and sound, Miss Demure.
Bunny: And look all the lovely beads you have.
Dee Dee: I got all these from some nice boys on Bourbon Street. All I had to do was…
Bob: Yes, we know how you got them.
Bunny: And so many too. No wonder you’re late.
Dee Dee: Miz Bunny, may I say what an honor it is to be here tonight for such a worthy cause. Eating right is so important these days.
Bunny: Say what?
Dee Dee: Your charity. (Bob and Bunny look confused) I’m a firm believer in good nutrition.
Bob: No, Miss Demure. This is about saving the endangered nutria.
Dee Dee: What’s a nutria?
Bunny: (holding up poster) This is a nutria.
Dee Dee: (shrieks) Eek! That looks like a vampire beaver!
Bunny: That’s Mr. Chompers!
Dee Dee: Oh, I’m sorry, Miz Bunny. Is he kin?
Bunny: (about to smack Dee Dee with poster) Why you…
Bob: Bunny! Calm down, darlin’. She’s jus’ confused is all.
Dee Dee: I apologize, Miz Bunny. My nerves are a lil’ on edge after walkin’ through the French Quarter at night all by myself.
Bunny: May I ask why didn’t you bring an escort?
Dee Dee: That’s what else happened. He bailed on me at the last second.
Bunny: I’m sorry, what? He posted bail for you?
Dee Dee: No, he ditched me. Can you believe it? Honestly, the nerve of some people. But there was no way I was going to miss this party so I decided to show up stag.
Bunny: I’m sure it’s not the first stag party you’ve been to.
Dee Dee: Oh, Miz Boudreaux! (laughs, then suddenly) I don’t get it.
Bunny: No, but I’m sure you will. (turns on her heels, glares at Bob as the wind howls) You hear that, Bobby Lee? I am only going to say this once. You best be on your best behavior…or else. (walks out amongst the audience) Enjoy the festivities, y’all! Where is that man with my cold drink?
Dee Dee: What was that all about?
Bob: She thinks she’s Hurricane Bunny, but I think she’s just full of hot air. She’s becomin’ more unhinged by the second. Did you bring the syringe, Dee Dee?
Dee Dee: It’s in my purse, all loaded and ready to go.
Bob: Give it to me. When the time comes, I’ll hand it back and you dispose of it.
Dee Dee: I remember.
Bob: Good girl.
Dee Dee: Oh, Bob, I missed you. I only just saw you this morning but I couldn’t wait to see you again.
Bob: Soon you’ll be able to see me whenever and wherever you want.
Dee Dee: Wherever? How about your boudoir, Mr. Boudreaux?
Bob: Are you asking if there’s going to be a hot time in the ol’ town tonight? That’s a guar-an-tee, cher. For now, we’d better keep all this on the down low.
Dee Dee: Ooh, I like the sound of that, Bobolicious.
Bob: That doesn’t mean what you think it means. We’d better cool it for the time being. Besides, we still have guests arriving.
Dee Dee: You think your wife suspects us?
Bob: She suspects everybody. For a while there, she thought I was carryin’ on with the upstairs maid.
Dee Dee: Were you?
Bob: Only when she was downstairs. But there’s been no one since I met you.
Dee Dee: (swatting Bob’s arm) Better not be. I just want you all to myself. That’s why we’re doing this, isn’t it?
Bob: Well, that and some beaucoup bucks, baby. By this time tomorrow, we’re going to have it all.
Dee Dee: Mm, I can’t wait.
Bob: Don’t you fret. I’ll make sure you get some lagniappe for your trouble. And you know what means…a little somethin’ extra. (Bunny re-enters, gives Dee Dee a shove) Now get to work, Miss Demure! Bunny, I see you rustled up a cocktail for yourself.
Bunny: This is number three. It’s a big house. And what have you rustled up, Bobby Lee?
Bob: Only my dandruff, my dear. Say, who is that walking in right now?
(Enter Lola Piccard, dressed in a trench coat, a big brimmed hat and sunglasses, looking rather mysterious along with Inspector Pierre Perrier. With her dark eyewear, Lola is finding it a bit difficult to navigate up to Bob and Bunny who both look perplexed.)
Lola: Good evening or should I say…hello.
Bob: The voice is familiar, but I just can’t seem to make out…
Bunny: Oh, I know who this is.
(Lola whips off sunglasses theatrically)
Bob: As I live and breathe, Miss Lola Piccard, I do declare, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?
Lola: I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Boudreaux.
Bob: Oh, Miss Piccard, why so formal? I’m the same ol’ Bob I’ve always been.
Lola: Pity.
Bob: And of course you know…
Lola: Miss Bunny, it’s been forever.
Bunny: Has it? It seems like only yesterday and you know what? I hated yesterday. Lovely to see you again, Lola. We’re delighted you made it to our little soiree.
Lola: Are you delighted, Bunny? Are you really delighted?
Bunny: (through gritted teeth) Of course. Why wouldn’t I want to see you again? (cue thunder and lightning)
Bob: Funny how that keeps happenin’. C’mon now, ladies. Let’s let bygones be bygones. Lola, I didn’t think our invitation would find you since we weren’t quite sure where you might be.
Lola: Your invitation found me in Tangier. It was delivered by a brutish one-eyed man with a horrid scar that across his entire face and a hook for a hand that dripped with blood. I believe he was the mailman.
Bob: Well, as long you got the invite. And who might this gentleman be?
Lola: Forgive my manners. Allow me to introduce you to...
Perrier: Chief Inspector Pierre Perrier of the French Police. That is in France. Which is in Europe.
Bunny: Oh, that France.
Perrier: It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Madame. (kisses her hand)
Bunny: Your moustache tickles my knuckles.
Perrier: Monsieur Boudreaux. (extends hand)
Bob: A handshake will suffice, inspector. (they shake as Perrier clicks his heels) How do you two know each other?
Lola: We’ve only just met.
Perrier: If I may, Mademoiselle Piccard and I met in the boarding area at Charles de Gaulle Airport. That is in Paris. Which is in France.
Bunny: The same one In Europe?
Perrier: Oui. The two of us struck up a conversation and got along so famously, I was able to switch seats with another passenger so we could sit together all the way to Atlanta. That is in Georgia. Which is in the United…
Bob: We know where it is!
Perrier: Coincidentally enough, New Orleans was to be my final destination. Mademoiselle Piccard most graciously asked me to be her escort this evening and how could I refuse?
Bunny: By saying no.
Bob: This your first time in our country?
Perrier: It is indeed.
Bunny: Business or pleasure?
Perrier: Pleasure is my business and my business is my pleasure.
Bob: I don’t follow.
Perrier: I am on holiday or, how you say, the vacation, oui?
Bob: Bingo. Inspector Perrier, I know you’re off-duty, but now maybe things won’t too out of hand with these here revelers knowing the po-po is on the premises.
Perrier: Po-po?
Bob: Sorry. American slang for the police.
Perrier: Ah. Pardon moi, Monsieur Bordeaux…
Bob: Boudreaux.
Perrier: Pardon, Monsieur Boudreaux, if you would be ever so kind, perhaps you could direct me to la toilete? It was a long drive from the airport and I mean the one in Paris. Which is in France.
Bob: Right through those doors. Third door to your left. Which is in New Orleans.
Perrier: Merci. (exits, clicks heels again)
Bunny: Where’s the Inspector goin’?
Bob: The po-po went to pee-pee.
Bunny: What a weird duck he is. And what is up with that accent? He sounds like Pepe Lepew’s veterinarian.
Bob: Excuse me, honey, but have you seen which direction Miss Demure was headed?
Bunny: Probably outside getting more beads. Why do you care where she is?
Bob: I need help with the party, darlin’. Lots to do still. I want your event to be a success. It’s all for you, my sweet.
Bunny: As it should be. But I swear if you are up to somethin’ with that bimbo… (lights flicker as wind howls again)
Bob: I know. I know. It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature. You stay here and be the good hostess that you are. I’ll be right back.
Bunny: And fetch me another drink! (he exits again) So, Lola Piccard, welcome home or do you have a home you call your own anymore?
Lola: Do you really care? You are the one who chased me away.
Bunny: You came back, didn’t you? Just like a bad penny. Where you been?
Lola: Everywhere. Everywhere and anywhere. Anywhere but here. I needed to find myself, but I never did. I thought I could help the unfortunate and the impoverished of the world, so I journeyed to the poorest and most destitute parts of the Earth. They all sent me away.
Bunny: Why?
Lola: They said I was bringing them down.
Bunny: You poor lost soul. Why don’t just sing us the blues?
Lola: That happens to be exactly what I did when I left America. I returned to show business, if you want to call it that. I had to make a living somehow. I sang in every cheap bar, saloon and gin joint from Albania to Zanzibar. I ended up in a broken down nightclub in Tangier, pouring drinks between songs.
Bunny: What’s with the get-up? Have you become a spy?
Lola: Of course not. I prefer to remain anonymous, that’s all.
Bunny: But everybody knows who you are.
Lola: Not everybody.
Bunny: Well, ain’t you jus’ an international woman of misery?
Lola: Mystery.
Bunny: Suit yourself.
Lola: I insist that this bad blood between us cease and desist. I’m going to tell you for the very last time and I shall never speak of this again. I have never, I repeat, never had any designs on your husband past, present or future.
Bunny: You jus’ flew half-way ‘round the world for no reason at all.
Lola: I have my reasons.
Bunny: And one of them is not Bobby Lee Boudreaux?
Lola: I came to see someone else.
Bunny: Don’t tell me it’s…
Lola: Francois. (strikes overly-dramatic pose)
Bunny: Well, don’t that take the King Cake. You’re sweet on Francois Fibian? Well, get in line, darlin’! Francois got mo’ ladies than he know what to do with.
Lola: That’s what I gather.
Bunny: That man don’ have no lil’ black book. He got himself a library.
Lola: I’ve heard that.
Bunny: The mo’, the merrier, he say!
Lola: All right already! I understand he likes the ladies and the ladies like him. Your invitation said he was the guest of honor and that’s why I’m here.
Bunny: Are you sure the other reason might be some…unfinished business?
Lola: That’s all behind me.
Bunny: Good. It’s all behind me too. But let me give you a lil’ heads up, Miss Piccard. You stay away from Bob Boudreaux-far away. Or what happened to you last time is gonna be a drop in the bucket compared to the deluge I’m gonna drop on your head. Enjoy the party, Lola dear. Go ‘head. Mingle.
Lola: I want to be alone. (slinks off to the side)
Bunny: Good idea. Bobby Lee? Where is that man with my drink?
(Dee Dee and Bob, holding a cocktail glass, enter standing on either side of Bunny. In the meantime, Lola pulls a voodoo doll out of her purse. She pokes doll’s backside with pin, causing Bunny to jump.)
Bunny: Ouch! I got bit by a skeeter!
Lola: It’s all behind you, Bunny.
Bunny indignantly grabs the glass from Bob and downs it.
Bunny: Another! Oh, forget it. You take too long. I’ll get it myself…again! (exits rubbing her hip)
Bob: Lola, what do you have there?
Lola: (sticking doll back in purse) Nothing. Nothing at all.
Bob: Have you met Dee Dee Demure, my private secretary? This is Lola Piccard, an old friend of the family.
Dee Dee: You don’t look that old. Botox?
Perrier re-enters
Bob: Ah, Inspector Perrier! I trust the facilities were accommodating.
Perrier: Magnifique.
Bob: All right then. It’s just a bathroom, not the Louvre. Inspector Perrier, this here is my secretary, Miss Dee Dee Demure.
Perrier: Mademoiselle. (clicks heels and bends to kiss her hand when Bob stops him)
Bob: Wait. Did you wash your hands?
Perrier: But of course.
Bob: Go ahead on then.
Perrier: (plants a smooch on Dee Dee’s hand) Charmed, I am sure.
Dee Dee: (charmed) Oh, Inspector!
Perrier: So Mademoiselle Demure…
Dee Dee: I prefer Dee Dee, unless I’m under arrest for some silly reason. (laughs uncomfortably with Bob) Am I?
Perrier: No, no, no. I am off the duty. Besides I am out of my…how you say… jurisdiction?
Lola: Jurisdiction.
Perrier: Merci.
Dee Dee: He’s out of his what?
Lola: We’re not in France.
Dee Dee: I know that. Does he?
Perrier: So, Mademoiselle, you work under Monsieur Boudreaux?
Dee Dee: How did you guess? (to Bob) Oh, he’s a good detective, he is.
Bob: Inspector, can I get you a beverage or a cocktail weenie or something?
Inspector: Not just now, merci. However, Monsieur Boudreaux…
Bob: We’re all just folks around here. She’s Dee Dee, that’s Lola and I’m Bob. You probably don’t want to be called Inspector all night long.
Perrier: I prefer Chief Inspector.
Bob: Yeah, you’re French, alright. You wanted to ask me something?
Perrier: Qui, Monsieur Bor…pardon moi…. Boob, I wanted to know about this Francois Fibian.
Bob: He should be here any moment now.
Perrier: What Lola here told me on the flight over was very curious. He is your friend, no?
Bob: He is my friend, yes. My best friend in all the world as a matter of fact. I’ve known him my entire life. Our families go back several generations. Francois and I went to boarding school together and ended up attending Harvard Law School at the very same time. However he graduated with honors while I…well, I couldn’t buy myself a degree otherwise I would have. I pooped out in the second year. The law just wasn’t for me. Thank goodness I had a rich family to fall back on.
Perrier: Fascinating, but about Monsieur Fibian…
Bob: You looking for a little dirt on Francois, Inspector? You’re barking up the wrong gum tree.
Lola: How dare you? You are a guest here. Don’t make me regret inviting you.
Perrier: But Mademoiselle Lola, you seem so taken with him. Almost obsessed. Yet he claims he does not know her.
Lola turns away dramatically
Bob: That’s Francois for you. They all fall under his spell.
Dee Dee: I can’t wait to meet him myself.
Bob: See what I mean? If I could bottle what Francois has, I’d sell it.
Bunny: (entering) Bottle? Is there a bottle out here?
Bob: The Chief Inspector and I are jus’ talkin’ ‘bout Francois.
Bunny: You two? Ha! You need the female perspective if y’all are talkin’ ‘bout Francois Fibian!!
(Francois Fibian glides right in at the final mention of his name with the wind howling behind him, then strikes a pose dead center. He is dressed to the nines in a smart tuxedo but something seems a bit off. Maybe it’s due to the realistic frog mask he’s wearing. That is, unless of course, he’s not wearing a mask.)
Francois: Did someone call my name?
(All mouths are agape-they look to each other then back at him. Bob approaches.)
Bob: Well, look what the wind blew in! Francois? Francois? Is that you?
Francois: And who else would it be but the one and only me. Qui, Monsieur Boudreaux, c’est moi, Francois!
Bob: Francois Fibian, you ol’ carpetbagger you! (they embrace) Ladies and gentleman, it is my esteemed privilege to present to you our guest of honor. He is man of the world and believe you me, the world needs this man.
Francois: Oh, Bob, you do go on. No, please. Do go on.
Bob: He is an activist, a philanthropist and the most generous man I know, generous with his money, his time and his big ol’ heart. He is the founder of the Fibian Foundation, the fine charitable organization that helped us down here in Louisiana in our times of crisis during Katrina and that nasty oil spill out there in the Gulf. And this year, he’ll be the Grand Marshall of the Mardi Gras parade. Please give up for the best friend I ever had and the best friend anyone could ever have, all the way from Baton Rouge, the one and only Francois Andre Midas Fibian!
Francois: The Fifth. I come from a long line of Fibians.
Bob: They saved the best for last.
Francois: I hope I’m not the last! Hello, everybody. I trust this will be an evening to remember if I have anything to do with it…and I’ll make sure that I do
Bob: Isn’t he a charmer?
Francois: No more charming than you, my friend.
Bunny: Why don’t you boys should get a room?
Francois: Bunny! You great big beautiful doll! Come here to me !
Bunny: I’m a little bigger’n las’ time you seen me.
Francois: There’s just more of you to love.
Bunny: Francois Fibian, you are sweeter than a praline! Thank you for supportin’ my charity!
Francois: Saving endangered nutria. That is so you, Bunny.
Bunny: (holds up sign) Have you seen Mr. Chompers?
Francois: I can’t say that I have. (sotto) Now I can’t unsee Mr. Chompers.
Bob: What happened to you, Francois? I sent a car for you over two hours ago.
Francois: It’s this crazy weather. Traffic is so horrible in front of the hotel. It wouldn’t budge. So I decided to take advantage of the strong winds.
Bob: What did you do?
Francois: I stepped into the nearest sporting goods store and bought myself a hang glider.
Bob: You flew all the way into The French Quarter? You are a piece of work, ol’ boy. Look at you all set for Mardi Gras. That is one pretty mask.
Francois: It’s...not a mask.
Bob: What?
Francois: It is all me, I am afraid.
Bob: What do you mean it’s all you?
Francois: It’s a long story, but, well, what you see is what you get.
Bob: But my friend, this is terrible. You should see a doctor…or a vet.
Francois: Bob, I’m fine. I really and truly am. It’s just that…
Dee Dee: You’re a frog?
Francois: Well, yes and no. And who might you be, my dear?
Bunny: She ain’t no brain surgeon, I can tell you that.
Bob: This is my personal secretary, Dee Dee Demure.
Dee Dee: He’s a frog.
Bob: Ssh.
Dee Dee: Why are you shushing me? It’s no secret. Look at him!
Bob: You’re embarrassin’ him.
Dee Dee: Why? Is he blushing? I can’t tell.
Francois: Bob, it’s okay. The Emperor has no clothes. She sees what she sees, isn’t that right?
Dee Dee: You’re a frog.
Francois: See what I mean?
Dee Dee: I didn’t say he wasn’t cute. (to Francois) There is somethin’ about you…
Francois: Tell me something I don’t know. I am what you might call…a man in transition. (to DEE DEE) And you, my dear, are a delight (kisses Dee Dee’s hand.
Dee Dee: Am I gonna get warts now?
Bunny: You are a wart.
Francois: Oh this is a Boudreaux party all right. Let the games begin! (laughs, then pulls Bob aside) Say, old friend, is Bunny alright? She doesn’t seem herself tonight.
Bob: Look who’s talkin’.
Francois: I mean she’s unusually aggressive, even for Bunny.
Bob: My darlin’ wife is more than in her cups this evening. She’s into the whole dang tea set. And what about you? You want to explain your…predicament?
Francois: Later, my friend. Introduce me to your other guests. (looking toward Lola) Starting with this young lady here… (Interrupting, Perrier steps forward and clears his throat theatrically) Please don’t tell me you have a frog in your throat.
Bob: Francois, this gentleman is Chief Inspector…
Perrier: Pierre Perrier of the French Surete (sur-eh-tay). A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Fibian.
Francois: Bonsoir, Inspector.
Perrier: Chief Inspector, cie vous plait.
Francois: Of the Surete?
Perrier: But of course.
Francois: Traffic division?
Bob: Francois…
Francois: A little joke.
Perrier: Oui. Very little. Your reputation precedes you, Monsieur Fibian…as does mine. Surely you have heard my name.
Francois: Surely I have not.
Perrier: Perhaps you are familiar with the famous case of Jacques the Stripper?
Bob: Jacques the Stripper? Oh, I’ve heard of him. He was that male dancer in Paris who killed his wives like Bluebeard. Must have been, what, a half dozen women or so.
Perrier: Bravo, Monsieur Bordeaux…uh, Boob. Oui, Jacques Larue was the most notorious murder case in France in the 21st century. I was the chief inspector of that case.
Francois: And what has happened to Jacques the Stripper? Safely behind the bars thanks to the efforts of one Chief Inspector Pierre Perrier.
Perrier: He was never caught.
Francois: And this is the reputation that precedes you?
Perrier: I was on Nancy Grace!
Francois: How lucky for her. (laughs) I kid you! I tease! That’s what I do, Chief Inspector. Tell him, Bob.
Bob: That’s what he does.
Francois: Pardon my wicked sense of humor. I mean no harm.
Perrier: But of course Monsieur Fibian.
Francois: Francois, if you please. We are all friends here. Please accept my apology if I have offended you. (offers hand)
Perrier: No offense taken. (grasps his hand that turns into a short contest, that Francois wins when Perrier releases first) Quite a strong grip you have there.
Francois: Perhaps you should work out more, my friend and maybe someday you will…get a grip. (laughs, joined in by Perrier, who breaks off and storms away) He’s certainly an odd bodkin.
Bob: Careful, ol’ buddy. I wouldn’t be pokin’ him with a stick the way you just did. He’s already got you in his cross hairs for some reason. There’s more to him than meets the eye.
Francois: But less than you might think. What is up with that accent?
Bob: He claims he’s from Paris. That’s in France. Which is in Europe.
Francois: What are you babbling about, Boudreaux? He’s about as French as a Volkswagen. And if he’s a policeman, what does that make me?
Bob: The way you’re looking at that young lady, I’d say you were a horny toad.
Francois: Don’t be crude, Bob. But if you weren’t crude, you wouldn’t be Bob, would you? So who is she? She seems so very familiar to me.
Bob: Don’t you recognize her? That’s Lola Piccard.
Francois: Alas, no. My memory is pretty darn kaput.
Bob: Does it have something to do with your…appearance?
Francois: You might say that. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, indulge, my friend as I attempt to reacquaint myself with Miss…?
Bob: Piccard. Lola Piccard. Hop to it then.
Francois: Cute. (to Lola) Good evening, Miss Piccard.
Lola: And to you, Mister Fibian.
Francois: Francois, if you please.
Lola: Lola, if you please.
Francois: It does please me. My friend Bob has informed me that we’ve met but you must excuse my faulty memory…
Lola: Have there been so many women in your life, Francois that you have lost track?
Francois: That’s not the case. If it were not for unfortunate circumstances, I would never forget someone like you.
Lola: Someone like me? What about just me?
Francois: Impossible. Help me out here, mon cheri…
Lola: I am not your cheri.
Francois: As you wish. Tell me, where did we meet? How did we meet? When did we meet?
Lola: Not why did we meet?
Francois: I can see why.
Lola: But do you know? I thought not. Do you have a light?
Francois: Certainly. (produces lighter and lights it)
Lola; I don’t smoke. (turns away)
Francois: Oh. Lola, does the sight of me in this condition repulse you? You keep turning away from me.
Lola: On the contrary, you are…you know what you are.
Francois: I am what I am.
Lola: Yes. You and Popeye. But you don’t know who I am. Or what I am. Or how I am. You know only that I am. And for someone like you, Francois Midas Andre Fibian the Fifth, that is not enough. (slinks away)
Francois: (after a long beat) I…see… No, I don’t.
Bob: That went well.
Francois: That was like ping pong. I think I need a drink.
Bunny: Bobby Lee! Bobby Lee!
Francois: Is that the smoke alarm?
Bob: ‘Scuse me for a moment.
Bunny: Bobby Lee, would you do somethin’ ‘bout this lil’ tart?
Bob: What seems to be the problem, dumplin’?
Dee Dee: I’m sorry, Mr. Boudreaux, but I was only tryin’ to help. I thought Miss Bunny might want some food to go with…so many cocktails.
Bunny: This is the cocktail hour and if I want cocktails, this is the sort of cocktail I want, not a shrimp cocktail! Bobby Lee, tell this tootsie roll what happens if I eat shrimp.
Bob: My wife is deathly allergic of all shellfish.
Dee Dee: Then why serve it to your guests?
Bunny: ‘Cuz I’m the only one who’s allergic!
Bob: Darlin’, I can send one of the waiters out for a muffaletta if you desire.
Bunny: I don’ wan’ no muffaletta!
Dee Dee: How about some clam dip?
Bunny: You’re a clam dip! Bobby Lee, I insist you take out the trash! By that, I mean that I want you to kick this trollop to the curb.
Francois: (stepping in to calm her) Bunny, Bunny, Bunny…look at me. This is no way to behave. Don’t do this to yourself. This is your night, isn’t it?
Bunny: Yes. Yes, it is.
Francois: You are the brightest star in the sky and tonight is your night to shine.
Bunny: Oh Francois, you know jus’ what to say.
Francois: Is this a party or isn’t it? To me, that means it’s time to dance!
Bunny: What do you suggest?
Francois: How about…a tango? What say we can dance the storm away!
(On Francois’ cue, the traditional tango music of “La Cumparsita” begins and all chose dance partners. Francois dances with Bunny and Bob with Dee Dee. Perrier bows to Lola and she whips off her coat, hat and sunglasses to reveal the most stunning woman in the room. They join the dance. Bob attempts to stab Bunny in the hip with the syringe. Francois is distracted by Lola and once Bunny is jabbed, she releases him to switch partners to Lola. Bob dances with Bunny and Dee Dee with Perrier. They seem to know each other. At the end of the dance, they strike a pose. Lola scampers away to Francois’ dismay. Bob looks to Dee Dee who gives him the okay sign as she places the syringe in Francois’ pocket. Bunny rubs her hip.)
Bunny: I think I got bit by another skeeter!
Francois: (looking toward Lola) And I think I got bit by the love bug.
Bunny; Dang it, Bobby Lee. You didn’t have to be so rough. First I get bit, then you smack me in the chest.
Bob: I’m so sorry, sweet heart. How ‘bout we all retire to the bar?
Bunny: Gangway! (exits)
Francois: Miss Piccard?
Lola: I have an escort. Pierre? (Perrier grabs her arm and smugly escorts her out of the room)
Dee Dee: (nuzzles up to Francois) I’m with you, Mister Fibian.
Francois: It would be my pleasure. (extends arm to her)
Dee Dee: Are you hungry? Can I get you some flies?
Francois: (turns back to Bob as they exit) Bob…help…
Bob: I’m right behind you!
CURTAIN
Copyright 2014 by Scott Cherney