Miss-Placed - The New York Years by Peggy Malloy

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This Play is the copyright of the Author and may not be performed, copied or sold without the Author's prior consent

First French Scene:

(Miss-Placed is reclining on her recamier. Mask is bringing her a cup of coffee.
She lifts her eye mask to chat.

Soundbed: Dying Swan by Saint Saens)

MISS-PLACED: Ok I know what I want to do now.

MASK: You must be bored.

MISS-PLACED: I'll write a show and call it “Artspeak”.

MASK: Dottie, everyone is sick of you speaking.

MISS-PLACED: No Mask, we'll pretend we are speaking from the dead.

MASK: You'll be good at that.

MISS-PLACED: Yes, exactly, I could interview Johannes
Vermeer about his conversion to Catholicism, or how
about asking Hieronymus Bosch about did he or did he
not join a cult? Are his paintings a parody of an era?
I think it would be magnificent!

MASK: Here's your coffee. I found an extra sealed bag of
your designer coffee from the move from Atlanta in the
garage.

MISS-PLACED: Ah, I love the South. Remember how Mama
and Daddy went to church every Sunday. Now the
Thought Police keep us out for our own protection,
Haha. You know the fear of Terrorism against the
Christians ploy. All those beautiful, old hand-built
churches now rotting all across the country, no-one to
love or care for them. No fresh flowers, no weeping
widows, no bums to feed at the back door, it's gone
Mask, all gone…

(She pulls down her eye mask and lays down again, doing
foot circles and leg lifts)

I think I should offer a poetry contest to our remaining American public.

(Blackout)

[end of extract]

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