2. ANGELA’S MOM
ACT I, SCENE I
(SUNDAY: In Angela’s dining room. They are all sitting in chairs.)
(Sophie, Angela and Holly are talking. James makes a loud farting noise. Everybody laughs.)
Hey kids, how’s it going?
It’s going great Mrs. W.
Hey, I was wondering if you wrote poetry.
I write like an angel!
(Bats eyes and smiles widely)
I can write… I guess.
OK, good, good. I know Angela and James…
(Looks over to James)
James, quit making faces!
(Makes faces while he’s saying)
I’m… not… making… faces!
Well, I got this flyer from my friend that said there was going to be a poetry contest held for ages 13 plus. You just have to write one and send it in.
Squeals) Oh, that’s so cool!
Ooh! A poetry contest! I never knew that this day would come in my young, fame-filled life!
Oh as if!
(Sticks out tongue at Holly)
So, mom, when do we have to send them in?
The deadline is next Tuesday, so start now. I’ll get some paper.
(James pokes Holly in the arm)
Angrily) Ow! Quit it stupid!
Sternly and annoyed) James P. Walker! Apologize now!
Mutters) Sorry . . . oh yeah Holly, you’re Holly right?
(Angela’s Mom walks over to a cupboard. She goes to get paper. Walks back to the table. Puts paper on the table.)
I’ll be in the living room if you need me.
(Walks off stage.)
(Everybody is quiet. They have dreamy and bored expressions.)
(Holly looks over at everybody)
(Empathizes “bored” is held out long)
Sighs loudly) I’m so bored!
Well, let’s talk ‘bout what we wanna write about… I mean, so then we can, like, get more ideas and stuff. You know…
Say, does anybody wanna piece of pie now? I’m starved.
(James walks over to the counter. Then grabs a pie tin with a pie in it, gets a spoon, turns towards the girls and begins to eat the entire pie.)
Shouts) Mom! James is being a pig! He’s eating pie and not sharing!
Screams from offstage) James P. Walker! Get your butt over here this instant!
(James mouth is full of pie)
Shouts) Buff mum! I waf hungee!
(He meant: But mom! I was hungry!)
Screams) Oh for the love of Pete, James, get over here right now!
(James stomps off stage)
Angrily) Man, James is such a… boy!
Did you want him to take that as an insult?
Oh man, it’s late. I should go get my mom; she’ll probably take you guys home after she’s done yellin’ at my alien.
Did I ever mention that you’re mom is da bomb?
I think so. Tomorrow at lunch, I wanna work on the poem together so like, be there!