"Papa's Coming Home!"

A short play by Scott McCarrey

A one-room shack in the dead of winter. MORDECHAI and BARNABY sit at a table playing cards. GERTRUDE lies in bed reading.

MOREDCHAI: Barnaby? Do you have any... sevens?
BARNABY: No! Go fish!

The boys throw their hands in the air with glee.

MORDECHAI & BARNABY: Yaaaay!

MORDECHAI takes a card from the deck.

BARNABY: Do you have any... kings?
MORDECHAI: I do not! Go fish!

The boys throw their hands in the air with glee.

MORDECHAI & BARNABY: Yaaaay!

BARNABY takes a card from the deck.

MORDECHAI: Do you have any... threes?

GERTRUDE sits up in bed.

GERTRUDE: Mordechai! You know we sold all the threes last winter to pay for Alluicious’ tuberculosis medicine.


MORDECHAI: (sadly) Oh yeah...


The boys look down solemnly for a few moments.

BARNABY: So... go fish!

Instantly happy again, the boys throw their hands in the air with glee.

MORDECHAI & BARNABY: Yaaaay!

MARIETTA bursts in, breathless.

MARIETTA: Mordechai! Barnaby! Gertrude! You’ll never guess what I’ve just seen!
MORDECHAI: A bear!
BARNABY: A dancing bear!
GERTRUDE: A chimney!
MARIETTA: Even better! I was stalking a squirrel of moderate size with the hope of killing, skinning, and broiling it for dinner...
BARNABY: It would be nice to eat this month!
MARIETTA: ...when I noticed a tall, dark figure ambling down the dirt road
that leads out of town.
GERTRUDE: Who was it, Marietta?
MORDECHAI & BARNABY: (bouncing up and down) Who was it? Who was it?
MARIETTA: Well... I couldn’t quite tell. So I squinted really hard... and I noticed the gentleman’s unmistakably inebriated gait. Which can only mean one thing... Papa is coming home!
MORDECHAI & BARNABY: (bouncing up and down) Papa! Papa!
GERTRUDE: Oh no! This is place is a mess! You know how Papa detests poverty! We’ve got to clean up or it will be years before he comes back!
MARIETTA: I’ll get the broom!
GERTRUDE: I’ll put away my book!
MORDECHAI: I’ll put away the cards!
BARNABY: I’ll help put away the cards!

The children scurry into simultaneous movement. GERTRUDE slides her book under the bed. MARIETTA grabs a broom next to the door and sweeps back and forth. MORDECHAI and BARNABY both carry the stack of cards to the cabinet and put them away. The whole thing takes, maybe, ten seconds.

MARIETTA: (looking out the window) Papa’s here!
GERTRUDE: Phew! Just in the nick of time.

PAPA bursts through the door. He is a mustachioed man who wears a top hat, coat, and scarf, and leans heavily on a can due to his staggering drunkenness.

CHILDREN: PAPA!
PAPA: (sniffing the air) Smells like broiled squirrel in here.

The children look off, as if envisioning their wildest dreams.

MARIETTA: If only...
PAPA: Hey there, gang! How’re my favorite illegitimate children?
MORDECHAI: Well... we’re all very hungry. And some of us are quite sick.
PAPA: (laughs heartily) You crack my shit up, Jimmy.
MORDECHAI: Mordechai.
PAPA: (confidential aside to MARIETTA) Gay name. (to everyone) Hang on a sec... didn’t there used to be more of you?
MORDECHAI: Yes, quite a few more.
PAPA: Well, where are they?
GERTRUDE: (launching into oft-recited list) Alfred died of tuberculosis, Naomi died of measles, Alluicious died of tuberculosis, Oliver died of smallpox, Jeremiah died of tuberculosis, Friedrich died of tuberculosis, Muriel died of tuberculosis, Elijah and Willhelm were eaten by wolves, Loudon was placed in a state work camp, and Nikita was adopted by a kindly stranger...
PAPA: Really?
GERTRUDE: ...with whom she lived for a week before dying of tuberculosis.
PAPA: Damn, ain’t that always the way?
GERTRUDE: Increasingly, yes.
BARNABY: Papa! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?
MARIETTA: Are you taking us to see our Mama?
PAPA: Your Mama? HA! Well, Sally, that would mean a trip to at least three brothels and--I think--one haberdashery.
BARNABY: (looking to MORDECHAI) Ha-buh...?
PAPA: They make shoes, Billy.
MORDECHAI: I used to have shoes. Then I sold them for some gruel.
MARIETTA: That was really good gruel, Mordechai.
BARNABY: Really good.
MORDECHAI: Thanks, you guys.
PAPA: (snapping fingers) Hey. Heads in the game, folks. Here’s the skinny: how would you like to do Papa a solid?
GERTRUDE: A what?
PAPA: As you know your Mama... Mamas... and I made a conscious decision, which was in no way influenced by bourbon or methamphetamine, to have a big family. Now, could I have used protection? Of course. But you see children, (pointing upward) God has a plan.
MARIETTA: What plan is that?
PAPA: It’s not for me to say. Apparently it involves tuberculosis and a lack of footwear, so far. But here’s the thing: you kids are here for a reason. And, sure, it’s taken me a decade or so to figure out what the reason is, but today it dawned on me. How would you kids like to be in show business?
MORDECHAI: Wow!
MARIETTA: Show business?
GERTRUDE: Really?
BARNABY: I don’t know what that means!
PAPA: That’s the spirit! Turns out, your Papa owes a lot of money to some not-so-nice gentlemen who (laughing) somehow seem to find him no matter where he moves or how many times he changes his name. So it looks like the only way to get around this is to pony up some money and pay off Papa’s debts.
MORDECHAI: How, Papa?
PAPA: That’s actually why I’ve come here. (a beat) You kids don’t maybe have a little coin stashed away somewhere, do you? Little rainy-day pan-handling scratch?
BARNABY: (confused) We... haven’t eaten in a month...
PAPA: Ah! I’m just yankin’ your chain, Smitty! I can’t believe you actually fell for that! (a beat) Seriously though, not even a few bucks?

The children stare at him blankly.

PAPA: Well, no biggie. ‘Cause, fortunately, your old man has come up with a pretty sweet idea. We are going to travel the countryside putting on an old-fashioned Vaudeville show! Comedy! Singing! The whole nine yards! Whaddya think?
MARIETTA: That’s a splendid idea! I can dance the galliard, and Gertrude can recite poems by Emily Dickinson, and the boys can sing songs...

MORDECHAI and BARNABY launch into “The More We Get Together” while MARIETTA and GERTRUDE clap a beat.

MORDECHAI & BARNABY: (singing) THE MORE WE GET TOGETHER, TOGETHER, TOGETHER...
PAPA: Stop...
MORDECHAI & BARNABY: THE MORE WE GET TOGETHER, THE HAPPIER WE’LL BE...
PAPA: Stop it...
MORDECHAI & BARNABY: ‘CAUSE YOUR FRIENDS ARE MY FRIENDS AND MY FRIENDS ARE YOUR FRIENDS--
PAPA: JESUS CHRIST THAT IS AWFUL!

The children stop abruptly and stare at their father.

PAPA: Don’t... do that... anymore. Actually, you kids will not be on stage at all.
MARIETTA: But, you said--
PAPA: I said we were going to put on a vaudeville show, and when I said “we” I meant “me” because clearly when I proffered my seed to all those whores-slash-cobblers it included none of my talent genes. I will do the singing, dancing, comedy shtick while you kids roam around the audience picking the fattest pockets you can find.
MORDECHAI: That’s... not exactly show business.
PAPA: What are you talking about? Thieving is the oldest form of show business!
BARNABY: But I don’t know how to pick pockets!
PAPA: Easiest thing in the world! Come on over here, let Daddy teach ya.

BARNABY approaches PAPA tentatively.

PAPA: Now... pretend I’m an unobservant bystander, and you’re you.
BARNABY: And... what do I do?
PAPA: Just reach into my pocket and take what’s in there. Ready? Go.

PAPA whistles a tune and looks around, playing the part of the bystander. BARNABY reaches into PAPA’s side coat pocket and pulls out a half-empty bottle of liquor.

PAPA: Whoops! Forgot about that. Let’s give it another shot.

PAPA puts the bottle inside his coat. BARNABY reaches into the side pocket again and produces a leopard-print bra. He discards it, reaches his hand in again and takes out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. He discards them, reaches in once more and pulls out a big pink dildo. BARNABY begins to cry.

MARIETTA: What is that?
BARNABY: I DON’T KNOW BUT I HATE IT.

PAPA looks down to see his son holding the marital aid.

PAPA: Hey now! This, uh... must be the wrong coat.

He gathers the various items and stuffs them back into his pockets.

MORDECHAI: We’re going to have another little brother or sister soon, aren’t we?
PAPA: I’m not ruling it out. Kids, let me level with you. I don’t have to tell you, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Hell, four of them are right here in this room. As it stands I’m flat broke, on the lam due to unpaid gambling debts, and possibly wanted for manslaughter.
GERTRUDE: Manslaughter?
PAPA: I have these blackouts, and when I wake up, I’m almost always operating farm equipment. Damnedest thing. The point is, even though I lack so much, there’s one thing I do have. (a beat) A family.
MARIETTA: Do you really mean that?
PAPA: I do... and that also means I have a safe-house to kind of lay low in for a few weeks. You kids don’t mind, do ya?
MORDECHAI: This is great! You can play Go Fish with Barnaby and me!
MORDECHAI & BARNABY: Yaaaay!
PAPA: Right-on, Cecil. But before we do, how’d you like to run into town and score Papa another bottle of hooch?
MORDECHAI: But... you’ve already got one in your coat.
PAPA: Oh, don’t worry. I’ll tap that bad boy before you’re halfway back, believe you me. Now gather round, my children. Come give your Papa a big hug.

The children hug PAPA closely.

PAPA: Not so close that I can smell you.

The children move their bodies as far away as possible while still hugging their arms around PAPA.

PAPA: There ya go. 
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A Bear and A Beaver Discuss A Matter of Great Civil Importance

A short play by Scott McCarrey

BEAR sits behind his desk (a fallen log) in his office (the forest). He examines a stack of papers through reading glasses. BEAVER enters.

BEAVER: Hello?
BEAR: Beaver!
BEAR stands and removes his glasses.

BEAVER: I hope I’m not interrupting, the receptionist said...
BEAR: No! No! Not interrupting at all. Come on in!



BEAR and BEAVER shake hands.

BEAVER: Good to see you, Bear.
BEAR: Likewise. Have a seat, please.
BEAVER: Sorry I’m late. The traffic right now is...
BEAR: Tell me about it. Which river did you take? The long windy one?
BEAVER: Um, no... the shorter one with the rapids.
BEAR: Ah. Yeah. There’s your problem. You really oughtta take the long windy one this time of day. Much less congestion.
BEAVER: I’ll try to remember that. How are the cubs?
BEAR: Fine, thanks.
BEAVER: Your youngest-- he’s starting little league this spring, isn’t he?
BEAR: Yes... he is, how did you know?
BEAVER: I’ve got one the same age. Remember?
BEAR: (clearly doesn’t remember) Oh... sure, sure.
BEAVER: Isn’t it terrific? You must be so proud.
BEAR: I... suppose.
BEAVER: What, you’re... you’re not?
BEAR: Well it’s not really his choice, if you get my meaning.
BEAVER: He’s no good?
BEAR: That kid couldn’t catch a beehive. And we’ve been practicing. With beehives.
BEAVER: Come now. I’m sure he’ll get better.
BEAR: I sure hope so. The boy needs to get out. Make friends. Meet girls. All he does is lie in the cave all day hibernating. That’s no way for a bear cub to behave. No cub of mine anyway. No cub of mine...

BEAR stares out the window (there is no window) as if lost in thought. BEAVER fidgets awkwardly. After a moment:

BEAVER: So...
BEAR: Right, sorry. Where were we?
BEAVER: Nowhere... yet. I’ve actually got no idea why you’ve asked me here.
BEAR: Really? Surely my receptionist mentioned in the letter...
BEAVER: Nothing, no. It just said you requested my presence at my earliest convenience.
BEAR: Really? That’s... she’s new. The receptionist. She doesn’t... anyway, what I wanted to talk to you about was this new public works project you’ve started.
BEAVER: What about it?
BEAR: Well... how’s it coming?
BEAVER: It’s going very well, thanks.
BEAR: Is it?
BEAVER: Yes, couldn’t be better. We’ve just opened our third new school in as many months, we’re hoping to have the hospital finished and open by this summer, we’ve connected most of the tunnels to create a sprawling transit system, as I’m sure you know...
BEAR: Right, right...
BEAVER: And just last week we finished clearing out that wooded area near the boulders.
BEAR: The one under the cliff?
BEAVER: Yes, that’s the one.
BEAR: Right... I always kind of... liked that area. It was shady.
BEAVER: Well, yes, but...
BEAR: A fellow could go there to think, you know? It was nice.
BEAVER: Certainly it was serene, but we needed the trees for our dams.
BEAR: Your dams...
BEAVER: We’ve built quite a series of dams all along the streams and rivers that run--
BEAR: Yes, I’m... I’m familiar with those dams.
BEAVER: Then you must also be familiar with our new water purification systems and sewage treatment centers, in which the dams play an integral part.
BEAR: Oh, I’m sure they have their upside too...
BEAVER: (laughing) Their upside? Why, what could possibly be the downside?
BEAR: I’m just saying that it’s... unfortunate-- some of the other bears and I feel it’s unfortunate to take away from the... natural beauty and... serenity of this area with beaver-made contraptions...
BEAVER: Beaver-made contraptions?
BEAR: Well, that’s what they are...
BEAVER: Do you also feel that it’s unfortunate that forest unemployment rates are the lowest they’ve been in ten years?
BEAR: Of course not, we’re all very pleased to see--
BEAVER: Because it’s due specifically to this public works project that--
BEAR: It just would have been nice if we could have accomplished that without ruining our streams and rivers.
BEAVER: It would have been nice, yes. It would have been nice if we could magically remove all the bear shit from our water--
BEAR: Excuse me?
BEAVER: That would have been very nice.
BEAR: I’m sorry, what are you implying?
BEAVER: I’m implying that bears shit in our drinking water and it’s disgusting, that’s what I’m implying.
BEAR: That is just--
BEAVER: And without our dams, we’d have no means of purifying the water and managing waste.
BEAR: Then you’d like to take credit for the drop-off in tourism as well?
BEAVER: What drop-off?
BEAR: Our rivers and streams are at the heart of our appeal to tourists.
BEAVER: Since when does this forest depend on tourism?
BEAR: I’ll have you know that fifteen percent of--
BEAVER: Tourists don’t come here!
BEAR: Not anymore, thanks to your dams.
BEAVER: That is outrageous.
BEAR: Tell that to the sparrows.
BEAVER: The... what? The sparrows?
BEAR: That’s right.
BEAVER: What sparrows?
BEAR: The sparrows who migrate here every winter, but now, thanks to the destruction of our--
BEAVER: Oh please...
BEAR: (talking over BEAVER) THE DESTRUCTION OF OUR NATURAL RESOURCES, and the alarming lack of housing, have decided to migrate elsewhere this year.
BEAVER: It’s ONE CLEARING! In a forest!
BEAR: It was the same spot those sparrows have been migrating to for generations. Maybe you beavers would have known that if you’d consulted with anyone else before launching into a massive demolition project.
BEAVER: Meaning you.
BEAR: Not necessarily, no, I’m just saying--
BEAVER: Come off it, Bear. You’re just mad because no one asked your permission.
BEAR: Not at all, we just--
BEAVER: You bears think you own this forest.
BEAR: We just think you should have talked things over with another group, us or anyone else, just to have been able to consider things from every angle.
BEAVER: This is ridiculous.
BEAR: Then maybe we wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in now.
BEAVER: This situation? This situation of unparalleled growth and prosperity?
BEAR: For you, maybe.
BEAVER: For us and everyone else, there’s not a single...

BEAVER pauses in mid-sentence. BEAR eyes him, conspicuously.

BEAR: What?
BEAVER: You don’t mean...
BEAR: I don’t mean what?
BEAVER: Is that what you’re so upset over?
BEAR: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
BEAVER: Yes you do.
BEAR: You’re not making any sense.
BEAVER: This is about salmon, isn’t it?
BEAR: (a beat) I beg your pardon.
BEAVER: All this talk about tourism and destruction of natural resources...
BEAR: I don’t know where this is coming from...
BEAVER: Are you willing to sit here, right now, and look me in the eye... and tell me this has nothing to do with salmon?
BEAR: Of course it doesn’t.
BEAVER: Honestly?
BEAR: Hadn’t even crossed my mind.
BEAVER: (a beat) Then... I’m sorry for bringing it up.

The two sit in silence for a moment.

BEAR: But... since you mentioned it...
BEAVER: I knew it!
BEAR: It is far from the only issue...
BEAVER: Sitting there playing the role of the concerned citizen...
BEAR: Mine is not the only constituency which has taken issue with--
BEAVER: Who else?
BEAR: What?
BEAVER: Who else is complaining?
BEAR: You want me to name names?
BEAVER: I’d like to know who else has a problem with our dams, yes.
BEAR: Fine. If you must know, the wolves have also voiced their concern about--
BEAVER: Are you kidding me?
BEAR: You’ve got something against wolves?
BEAVER: Everyone knows you’ve had the wolves in your back pocket ever since you covered up the missing campers scandal.
BEAR: OUTRAGEOUS!
BEAVER: Even the rabbits know that!
BEAR: That is character assassination, I’ll have you know!
BEAVER: Did you honestly think you got away with that, you honey-eating oaf?
BEAR: Honey-eating?
BEAVER: That’s right.
BEAR: HONEY-EATING?
BEAVER: Did I stutter?
BEAR: You take that back, Beaver!
BEAVER: I will do no such thing!
BEAR: TAKE IT BACK!
BEAVER: No!
BEAR: I’m warning you, Beaver...
BEAVER: You’re warning me?
BEAR: Take it back...
BEAVER: Is that a threat?
BEAR: If you don’t take it back...
BEAVER: What if I don’t? Then, what?
BEAR: Then I just... I...
BEAVER: What?

BEAR rears back on his hind legs, growling and swatting his paws at the air.

BEAR: RAAAAAAAWWWWRRR!!!

BEAVER does not move. He stays seated, staring at BEAR, disgusted and a little confused.

BEAVER: What is...? What are you doing? What is that?

BEAR comes to his senses and slowly retakes his seat.

BEAR: I... I apologize.
BEAVER: Wow.
BEAR: I didn’t mean that.
BEAVER: I should hope not.
BEAR: But just, FYI, if that kind of thing happens again, you should probably play dead.
BEAVER: Play dead?
BEAR: Yeah. And cover your head and neck with your hands. Like this.

BEAR demonstrates.

BEAVER: ...okay...
BEAR: I may gnaw on you a little, but I’ll lose interest after a minute or two.

BEAVER stands.

BEAVER: I should get going...
BEAR: What? No, please...
BEAVER: It’s getting late...
BEAR: Is it because of what just happened? I told you, I didn’t mean it...
BEAVER: Look, Bear. It’s no secret that our people don’t get along. We haven’t for quite some time. I had hoped that my coming here today might change things, but... I see now that that just isn’t going to happen.
BEAR: I’m sorry you feel that way.
BEAVER: I’m sorry things have to be this way, Bear.

BEAVER begins to exit.

BEAR: Beaver?

BEAVER turns around.

BEAR: Don’t let the door hit you in your big flat tail.

BEAVER storms out. 
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