When the 31 Plays in 31 Days project started they asked for prompts. All I could come up with at the time was something to this effect - Cooking is art, baking is science. Write a play featuring your favorite recipe that balances the two.
Yes, it's phoofy, I know.
Now, the prompts they have been sending out (mostly from male minds) haven't worked for me. The only one I used was Killer Unicorns. There is something to my theory that male minds and female minds work differently and therefore write mad-crazy-diffrently. If I have the time, at the end of the month, I'll compile all the prompts and have a non-scientific study.
Anyhoo.
So play #19 is Stamford Baked Beans.
Yesterday's play was fucking torture to write. I had....let's see...NOTHING to go on. Brain fucking dead, I was. But I managed, through the magic of Facebook, to find out a tiny bit of information on the theatre that used to be in the woods behind the Stamford Museum. And I got a monologue out of it, there's something there. It's not weak, but it's not fully realized yet.
Looking at the big picture, it seems the full-length Civic Fucking Pride will be made up of scenes and monologues that come directly from my mouth. Not sure how or if that will work. And I have 11 more plays to write.
-VD
Here is Stamford Baked Beans
Stamford Baked Beans
By Vanessa David ©2012
SETTING: An apartment
AT RISE: Wife is onstage
reading or something, the food is already in the oven. The HUSBAND enters
HUSBAND
Mmmm! What smells so good?
WIFE
I’m baking beans.
HUSBAND
Baking beans? As in Boston?
WIFE
No, Stamford Baked Beans.
HUSBAND
What is that?
WIFE
Well, I was thinking, Stamford needs an official
food.
HUSBAND
Pizza!
WIFE
I know, we have a ton of pizza. But people go to
New York or New Haven for pizza. Stamford needs a signature food.
HUSBAND
Beans.
WIFE
Stamford Baked Beans.
HUSBAND
And what, pray tell, is in Stamford Baked Beans?
WIFE
Well, beans of every color of the rainbow,
spices from around the world, maple syrup from the museum and duck bacon.
HUSBAND
Duck bacon! Fancy!
WIFE
Stamford’sa got alotta Jews.
HUSBAND
Ah, keepin’ it kosher.
WIFE
Yep.
HUSBAND
Well, that sounds delicious.
WIFE
You don’t like it.
HUSBAND
I haven’t tried it.
WIFE
It’s not vegetarian.
HUSBAND
I know.
WIFE
I could have left the bacon out but I know you
hate eating vegetarian.
HUSBAND
I do.
WIFE
So Stamford’s vegetarians are actually left
unrepresented because of you.
HUSBAND
What?
WIFE
You know, I wanted to represent all the people
of Stamford in one dish.
HUSBAND
You could have left the bacon out.
WIFE
What are baked beans without bacon?
HUSBAND
Baked beans.
WIFE
Don’t get smart with me.
HUSBAND
Okay.
WIFE
I’m sorry. I’m being difficult. I just feel
that, sometimes, in Stamford, we’re all just so…separated. Running around,
living our stupid busy lives. There’s nothing to bring us together. Nothing to
unite us. Nothing for us to rally behind or cheer for. So, I thought, if I made
these baked beans, these Stamford Baked Beans then we’d all have something to
be proud of, you know. Something the whole country, the whole world would know
came from Stamford. Something that represented all of us; Black, White,
Spanish, Puerto Rican, Haitian, Indian, Asian, rich, poor, destitute, Jews! But
if you can’t support me in that, well, I’d rather you just shut-up and eat your
beans.
HUSBAND
Are they ready?
WIFE
NO THEY’RE NOT READY! Baked beans take hours!
DAYS! It takes time for the flavors to come together, you can’t just whip up a
pot of baked beans. Baked beans take time!
HUSBAND
I’m sure they’re worth the wait. What are you
serving them with?
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