Delicious Pretzels: part 1
copyright © Nihil, 2003-2004

the curtain rises on a scene lit by murky tungsten. the floor is stained wood, and back or side walls cannot be seen as the light does not extend that far. across the floor are a number of cardboard boxes of various sizes and conditions. a single woman sits atop one of the boxes, her weight bringing the corner down a slight.

Maiden: [sigh]

she checks her watch and kicks her feet around. then, a voice booms from the shadows.

Voice: froot loops are my favourite cereal!

a large man walks in, looking a bit like Laurence Fishburne.

Maiden: i have waited here for too long. you are a bad human being.

Man: you must understand, little maiden, that my bus driver was killed in a strange accident, and because i do not know how to drive a bus, i had to walk all of the way to this place.

Maiden: this is understandable, and so i will call you Jam.

Jam: i abide by this, and i will call you Sarah. with an "H," so as to distinguish you from Sara without the "H."

Sarah: then, we have reached an accord.

Jam: agreed.

Sarah: ...

Jam: despite our resolving this issue, you still seem distressed... what troubles you, love?

Sarah: this is not the pretzel i had ordered... [Sarah throws a large soggy pretzel to the ground]. but, no, i am sorry, this is just an excuse. the truth is that i find myself very scared at the prospect of blind dates. meeting people i do not know is very frightening, and it causes me to have the shakes and purposefully order the wrong pretzel from the local pretzel vendour. that poor man. i mistreat him so...

Jam: naturally.

Sarah: and it does not help that the person i am to meet is late!

Jam: if i had killed my bus driver, i would apologize to you.

Sarah: understood. i must admit, you are quite an attractive find, Jam. i am glad to have met you tonight.

Jam: [blushing slightly] you always say these things. remember when we were growing up by the lake? every day, i would make a cap for you out of tall green grass, and you would wear it until it turned brown.

Sarah: yes, those were ideal times.

Jam: say, do you like pretzels?

Sarah: why yes, i do! how uncanny that you would ask me that. i *adore* pretzels!

Jam: i hear that there is a pretzel vendour around these parts who is quite skilled in his trade.

Sarah: oooh! excitement! i have not had a pretzel in ages! i hope that this vendour is as skilled as you say.

Jam: fear not. he is. i met him about a week ago, and have not had a finer pretzel in all of my life. although, in my youth, i lived in Chicago, or possibly Prague, in a small apartment, and there was an excellent pretzel vendour at the end of the block.

Sarah: ooooh! let's go there!

Jam: no, no. he was excellent, but a close second to the pretzel vendour in these parts.

Sarah: ooh! excellent! i have not had a pretzel in ages!

Jam: nor have i, unless you count the several i had last week. and today.

Sarah: you are lucky, then. i have not had one since i lived Chicago... or possibly Prague, many years ago, in my youth, actually. there was an excellent vendour at the end of the block, but he eventually died, and i had sworn off pretzels until i could find an equally skilled tradesman.

Jam: today, then, you are in luck, because i hear there is a highly skilled pretzel vendour in these parts.

Sarah: ooooh! excitement! let us go there right away!

Jam: with haste!

Jam and Sarah exit the scene, curtain lowers.


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