A suburban home. 4:45 pm Friday afternoon. The housewife sits at the dining room table while the children run amok. Her hair is in curlers. Her face lacks makeup. The babysitter is due at any moment. She is frantically pushing fabric through her sewing machine. The doorbell rings.
Housewife: Must be the babysitter!
Daughter #1: Mom! Some girls are here!
Housewife: (aside) Not another fundraiser… (to her daughter) What do they want?
Daughter #1: I dunno…
Son #2: (eagerly) They’re selling cupcakes.
Housewife: (aside) I am not getting up from this machine. (sighing, to son) Tell them they have to come in.
Enter the babysitter, a woman in her 20’s.
Housewife: Stephanie, what do they want?
Stephanie: They’re selling cupcakes.
Enter two teenaged girls.
Girl #1: We’re selling cupcakes.
Housewife: Do I have to pay you now?
Girl #2: (timidly) Yes…
Housewife: (loud sigh, shaking head) Girls, I’m Cinderella, and I’ve got to finish this dress for the ball.
Son #2: I’ve got money, Mom!
Housewife: You want to buy cupcakes? (He nods his head.) Then go get your money.
Girl #1: We’ve got red velvet, vanilla……(The din of running, playing children obliterates the sound of her voice.) What kind would you like?
Housewife: You’ll have to ask the buyer.
Housewife: That’s your dad! Somebody answer the phone!
Son #1 answers phone. Son #2 returns with money. He orders cupcakes. Girls depart. Son #1 hangs up phone.
Son #1: Dad’s on his way home.
Housewife: (rising triumphantly from her chair and shaking out the dress) Good! And my dress is complete!
|Before: skirt is floor length|
|The Dashing Duo|
|In front of my favorite rose bush|