The Great Race

A Thursday Prompt play, in one very unnatural Act
(with appropriate scenery dresses; pie, $5.95 extra)
© 2020 by Walter Reimer

Prompt: spring


CAST:
Eddie Nullkopf, a short, fat rat
Dirk Eelworth, a river otter
Artie Mortimer, a French bulldog
Josh Griffiths, an Australian marsupial lion
Bob Bruce, an Australian kangaroo

SCENE ONE. Sydney, which is in Australia, at the time of the 2000 Summer Olympics; the waterfront near the Opera House.
Enter EDDIE.
EDDIE: (chewing noisily) My goodness, these whatchamacallits are quite tasty, but they don’t measure up to the chips I get in Cheapside. (chewing) They could use some ketchup, too. Still, it’s a beautiful day, and I have money to spend!
(A Whoosh!ing sound. Enter DIRK and ARTIE.)
DIRK: Excuse me.
EDDIE: It’s down the hall and to the left.
ARTIE: We could not help but overhear.
EDDIE: So long as it’s over here and not under where.
DIRK: No one asked you about your underwear, you naughty rat. I am Dirk Eelworth, and my slightly cockeyed friend is Artie Mortimer. My associate and I suffer from a strange yet terrible Hawaiian disease.
EDDIE: What’s that?
DIRK: Lack-o-money. We would like to offer you a proposition.
EDDIE: Good Heavens! How dare you proposition me? (gives a coy smile) I’m not that kind of a guy.
ARTIE: Would you like to be?
EDDIE: What?! Not on the spirit of my grandmother’s boots! They’ve worn out, you know.
DIRK: Are you saying - ?
EDDIE: Yes. She has no soul. (laughs, somewhat manically)
DIRK: (aside, to ARTIE) I think we have the chump we’re looking for Artie.
ARTIE: (aside to DIRK) That’s good; I’ve been getting eyestrain.
DIRK: (aside to ARTIE) That’s what you get for not wearing your contacts. (To EDDIE) Eddie, my fine long-tailed rodent, my friend and I would like to make you an offer that could increase your money.
EDDIE: Not interested.
DIRK: Not interested? Why not?
EDDIE: If I had more money, I’d run out of room in my pockets.
DIRK: That’s okay, Eddie, we’ll hold onto your overflow for you.
EDDIE: I say!
ARTIE: You do?
EDDIE: Yes, and I use words when I say.
ARTIE: Ah, such a clever fellow you are!
EDDIE: Thank you! I’m so bright my father calls me ‘Son!’
DIRK: (Aside) A word with his mother might cast a shadow. (To EDDIE) What my friend and I are suggesting, Eddie, is that we shall lay all your money down on a bet. You against one of the natives here in a race, double or nothing.
EDDIE: What!? All these Australians are in peak condition!
ARTIE: The girls have some scenic peaks, I must say.
DIRK: Must you say? After all I’ve done for you? Anyway, Eddie, rest assured – (EDDIE begins snoring loudly) – not that heavily – (EDDIE wakes up) – that Artie and I have a plan in mind.
EDDIE: Is it a good plan?
DIRK: For you, Eddie, nothing but the best.
EDDIE: Well . . . okay, I’ll do it! I can do a lot with twice my money. I might even enroll in the University of Woolloomooloo.
ARTIE: (Aside) I hear they have courses in Advanced Idiocy.
EDDIE: With a name like Eelworth, I had thought you’d be a slippery customer. Many otters are, you know.
DIRK: That’s an otter lie, my dear rat. Now, let us find a likely fellow to race against you.
Exeunt.

SCENE TWO. Sydney. A bar near Bondi Beach. Enter DIRK.
DIRK: Come on, Eddie. There’s nothing here that can hurt you.
EDDIE: All right –
(Whistling sound; glass breaking)
EDDIE: AHHHH! My head!
ARTIE: And nothing of value was lost.
BOB: Sorry about that, mate. I was aiming at the fellow behind you. He looks shifty.
ARTIE: What!? Me, shifty?
BOB: Too right. You have one eye on the telly and the other eye on the bar.
DIRK: Be thankful he’s not looking over your shoulder, too. You can make it up to my friend if you’re willing to discuss a small wager.
BOB: A bet, eh? What’s on your mind?
ARTIE: Best you don’t ask that question. You’ll sleep better.
DIRK: What we’re proposing is a race. You will race my rat friend, here, for double or nothing.
BOB: Double or nothing, eh? How much money?
EDDIE: Two hundred pounds.
BOB: Strewth! That’s almost six hundred dollars. I need to talk to my mate. Oy, Josh! (Enter JOSH; the two hold a quiet conversation)
DIRK: Can you hear what they’re saying, Artie?
ARTIE: I can see them – and the barmaid reaching over to change the channels on the television.
DIRK: Still can’t decide what to look at, eh?
ARTIE: Look at the barmaid, and judge for yourself.
DIRK: Hmm! Stop ogling the barmaid, Artie. The kangaroo’s coming back, and he has a lion with him.
EDDIE: Must be his mane friend.
JOSH: (laughs) Nah, mate, I’m a marsupial lion.
EDDIE: Where’s your pouch?
JOSH: I’m a guy, mate. Another joke like that, and I’ll pouch you upside the head with this bottle.
EDDIE: Sorry, I don’t want seconds. Australian beer goes straight to my head.
DIRK: Or his skull, at least. So, gentlemen, do you agree to the wager?
JOSH: Yeah, me an Bob will meet your bet. Where do you want to do this?
EDDIE: How about the road by the beach?
BOB: Sounds good to me. We’ll meet you there in an hour.
EDDIE: Okay. (Exit BOB and JOSH) Now, see here, Eelworth, how am I going to win this race?
DIRK: Springs.
EDDIE: No, it’s summer down here.
ARTIE: These Australians are so clever.
DIRK: It’s the antipodean climate. We shall fit you for springs, Eddie. That way you can match that kangaroo bound for bound.
EDDIE: I’ve never been a bounder. I’m a good boy, I am.
DIRK: And just for that – Artie?
ARTIE: (Aside) It’s best if you don’t see this. I’m going to close one eye, and keep the other on the barmaid.
(Sound of power saws, EDDIE screaming; power tools and hammering, EDDIE screaming)
Exeunt

SCENE THREE. Sydney. The road by the beach. Enter EDDIE, DIRK, ARTIE, BOB, and JOSH.
BOB: Right, mate, let’s get this over with. Who’s holding the money?
ARTIE: I’ll hold the money.
JOSH: Nah, not you, mate, you look shifty.
ARTIE: (splutters) Me? Shifty?
JOSH: Yeah, you shifty.
DIRK: Then I’ll hold the money. Right, here’s the starting line, and the finish is two hundred yards away at the bottom of that hill.
BOB: At the bar?
DIRK: Yes, unless you think the bar’s too low. Eddie? Come up to the line, there’s a good idiot – er, fellow.
BOB: The rat looks taller somehow.
DIRK: That’s the land Down Under for you – he’s been upside down so long he’s gotten taller. Now, gentlemen – and Eddie – on your marks. Get set . . .
ARTIE: The suspense is killing me.
JOSH: Better it than me, mate.
DIRK: GO!
(Sound of scuffing feet and ‘Boing!’ sounds)
JOSH: Bob’s taking an early lead.
DIRK: I’m sure Eddie will catch up.
(‘Boing!’ sounds)
ARTIE: He’s bouncing rather high, Dirk.
DIRK: And I think he’s having a little trouble staying in one direction.
(‘Boing!’ sounds, EDDIE screaming)
JOSH: You two sure you know where he’s going?
DIRK: At this rate, I think –
(‘Boing!’ sounds, EDDIE screaming; descending slide whistle; splash)
JOSH: Well, it is a warm day. Probably wanted a swim. By the way, Bob won.
DIRK: So he did.
JOSH: So?
ARTIE: So what?
JOSH: That might be what the tailor asked the nudist, mate, but there’s a small matter of the bet. Your guy lost, so give me and Bob the money.
DIRK: And if we don’t?
JOSH: You two and my teeth are going to have a panel discussion on contemporary issues in finance and international relations.
DIRK: A well-argued point. Here’s the money. (Cash register sound) Come, Artie. Exit ARTIE and DIRK.
(Enter EDDIE; sloshing noises)
EDDIE: What happened?
JOSH: You lost.
EDDIE: Curse! Oh well, I’m still optimistic.
JOSH: Why?
EDDIE: Thanks to Artie and Dirk, I’ll always have a spring in my step!
Exeunt omnes.

end