FOOD FOR DEATH A Brief Mystery With No After Taste By Gregory M. Emetaz CAST Duncan Lydia Gloria Manville Beatrice Frank Mr. Wong Sister Boynton SCENE ONE Setting The Table We find ourselves in an elegant dining room of a large mansion. On the walls hang modernist paintings, the uglier the better. The table is rather long, stretching across the stage. There are five chairs two at the heads and three across the upstage side, the downstage side is suspiciously devoid of chairs. Up Left is a door communicating with the entrance hall of the house, Down Right a swinging door communicating with the kitchen. Duncan, the resident Butler, enters Right, spots the table, moans in frustration and hurriedly exits Left. He is young, probably mid twenties and looking a bit too small for his tuxedo. Some yelling is heard Off Left. The door is suddenly kicked open and Lydia rushes in with a tray of dishes followed by a almost hysterical Duncan. She is an older woman who seems to have been a cook way too long. DUNCAN. ... in five minutes! That's like no time! What if someone's early? LYDIA. (Leisurely setting the table) Geeze Louisiana, calm down Duckie. DUNCAN. It's Duncan, not Ducky! Where did you even come up with that? I mean I could imagine dunk, like you dunk a cookie in milk, but- What am I talking about we have to get ready, you haven't even started the appetizers! LYDIA. I was about to and then you come runnin' in and want me to set the table. If you want 'em than I'll do 'em first. But you got to relax son. DUNCAN. They'll be here in five minutes, make that FOUR MINUTES, and you say relax?! LYDIA. (Puts tray down with a thump, turns to Duncan) Listen, I've been doing this kind of thing forever. First off, they'll want drinks first, and that's your department. Second, no one ever gets here on time. Especially not to some pishy poshy social dinner with Gloria Manville. So calm down. DUNCAN. Okay, I'm calm, it's just I'm sorta new at this. LYDIA. (Returning to her table setting) No, really? (She begins humming jingle bells) DUNCAN. Not funny. I'm just a temp, I don't know what butlering is all about. I though you had to spend years studying it or that it was something passed down through generations, or you had to be English. My names not even Duncan! But no, the temp agency says, it's no biggy, just the same as bartending except you have to take their coats. Well they haven't read Ms. Manville's to do list! Jesus the list! (He searches his pockets and finally produces a crumpled piece of paper) Close curtains...reorganize all furniture on the first floor according to diagram C...yeah, yeah yeah...have cook set table, doing it...Start fire in the lounge fireplace- What! Why the hell did she put this at the end of the list! Where's the wood? LYDIA. (Interrupted from her humming) What? DUNCAN. Were you even listening? LYDIA. Sorry. DUNCAN. Who cares, where's the firewood? LYDIA. Probably in the cellar. DUNCAN. Jesus, I don't have time for this! (Runs out Right. Off stage we hear doors slamming and thunderous foot steps down stairs.) LYDIA. (Humming, than singing) Oh come all yea faithful, joyful and incumbent! (Suddenly stops) Is that how that goes? (Begins humming hallelujah, singing) Sock it to ya, sock it to ya, sock it to ya, sock it to ya, soooock iiiiiit toooooo yaaa! Wait, wasn't that.... ah phhttt! (Singing) Sleigh bells sing are you glistenin', in the snow they are blisteren'. How the hell are sleigh bells suppose to sing? (Shrugs it off) Deck the stalls with bows of lolly, la la la la fa, la la la fa- DUNCAN. (Bursting in holding a bundle of wood) Where are the matches?! LYDIA. Probably next to the fireplace. DUNCAN. Yeah right, those long ones. (Rushes out) LYDIA. (Finishing the final table setting) Ah there we go, now on to the cheese and cracker people. (Flies out of the room like some sort of superhero, kicking the door open again) DUNCAN. (Entering Right) It's a freaking gas fire- oh. (Sound of doorbell, Duncan freezes) Oh God! (He goes to leave, then realizes he's holding a bundle of fire wood. He looks around the room and the finally just sets the wood on the table and rushes out brushing himself off. Another door bell. The front door is heard opening with an ominous creak) DUNCAN. (Off) Err... good evening, may I take your coat? SCENE TWO Drinks & Appetizers DUNCAN. (Opening the door Up Right) Dinner will be served shortly. GLORIA. (Sweeping in) You'll find the dinning room is where I keep all the really interesting pieces of art. (Spotting the pile of logs on the table, glances at Duncan) Including this dadaist centerpiece. (Enter Mr. Wong, Beatrice, and Frank who is holding a mixed drink and cocktail napkin) FRANK. (Rushing over to the "centerpiece") Oh God, I've never seen any real dadaist pieces, it's splendid! BEATRICE. That's quite an odd table arrangement you've got there, Gloria. GLORIA. What do you mean? BEATRICE. Well there's three chairs on the left side of the table and none on the other. GLORIA. So you can all see my most prized possession, it's an original Madeleine De Bousuier-Schott. FRANK. It's incredible, what's it called? GLORIA. "The Last Supper, In A Blender", with a name like that you can't put it in the living room. MR. WONG. Certainly not Ms. Manville, but in dinning room it makes one sick to stomach, no? FRANK. (Laughs) You're so funny, Mr. Wong! SISTER BOYNTON. (Entering right) So this is where you've all gotten to, I leave to the little girls room for a moment and everyone disappears. Excuse me Ms. Manville, but your house can be frightening when you're alone. GLORIA. I know. If I had it my way I'd have the place totally redone like some New York studio apartment, but these damn- Oh excuse me. SISTER BOYNTON. (Throwing up her hands) Off duty! GLORIA. It's just these awful historic preservationists got the place on the register and I can't touch it. I'd sell, but it is the house I grew up in. SISTER BOYNTON. What is that strange painting? GLORIA. "The Last....Blender." (The others laugh) SISTER BOYNTON. I can see why. GLORIA. Oh, let's sit. (As they find their places. Gloria is at the Head Left. Then Frank next to her Right, then Mr. Wong, then Sister Boynton, then Beatrice at the other head) FRANK. Oh, place cards, you've really out done you're self Gloria! SISTER BOYNTON. I can't remember the last party I went to. MR.WONG. What? You look like party animal to me. (The sister laughs) GLORIA. Duncan, you can begin serving the Cabernet Sauvignon now. DUNCAN. Yes, Ms. Manville. (Begins to exit) GLORIA. And make sure she isn't using too much paprika, I could swear that woman cooked in Prague during the Austro-Hungarian Empire. DUNCAN. Yes Ms. Manville. (He exits Left) FRANK. Oh I can smell it already, delicious! BEATRICE. What are we having, nothing with tomatoes I hope, I just can't handle all the acid. GLORIA. Fear not, Beatrice, we'll be having a very mild, but perfectly delicious chicken marsala with linguini. SISTER BOYNTON. She puts paprika on that? GLORIA. That's why I made him tell her to lay off this time. She's a brilliant cook, but simply obsessed with paprika, oh and pistachios, but we shouldn't run into that problem. FRANK. Well I must say her cheese and cracker were marvelous, although I didn't understand the toothpicks with the little name tags on them. GLORIA. She's very creative. I didn't understand it at first, but then again I didn't understand modern art at first. So I thought I'd give her a chance, and now I positively adore her quirks. MR. WONG. Except for paprika, no? GLORIA Except for paprika. DUNCAN. (Entering Left with wine bottle and that towel thing) Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon, 1985. FRANK. Was that a good year? GLORIA. Mondavi is always a good year. Now if you would pour these good people some of it we could all prepare our palettes for that marsala! (He pours, all seem embarrassed to speak) FRANK. (After a while) Why is that one never feels able to speak when one is being served? BEATRICE. I never have any inhibitions, I simply had nothing to say. GLORIA. Oh, I understand what you mean, Frank. But I'm sure that Duncan won't be conveying any of our inner dark secrets to the tabloids, will you Duncan. DUNCAN. No. SISTER BOYNTON. Well I don't get served very often, well not like this. You know, down at the convent we never say much of anything. It's so funny to be talking and drinking! BEATRICE. (Who Duncan has just gotten to) Just a little, I'm not one to get all boozed up. FRANK. (After finishing off his mixed drink) Isn't that an odd thing to say? (To Duncan) Oh, can you take this? (Duncan takes Franks glass and exits to the kitchen) BEATRICE. This butler of yours is quite unusual. GLORIA. What do you mean? BEATRICE. Very young. GLORIA. Well the truth is he's only temporary, I'm interviewing quite a few candidates for the permanent position. Naturally I'll be looking for someone older, more distinguished, and preferably a painter. FRANK. Well he certainly mixes one hell of a drink! GLORIA. Yes. Oh, let us toast. To the U.S. Postal service, if they hadn't misdirected all my invitations, I never would have met any of you. (There's a general "Here here" and they clink glasses. The door is kicked open and Lydia enters with a tray ) LYDIA. Chicken Marsala, get it while it's hot! Who's first? GLORIA. Oh give Beatrice down there the first one. LYDIA. (Presenting Beatrice the plate like a work of art) Voilá, La Mona Lisa! (Moving on to Sister Boynton) Ta dah, Michealangelo! (To Mr. Wong) Oooooh, Benito Mussolini! (She again flies out of the room, kicking the door) GLORIA. Isn't she fabulous? SISTER BOYNTON. I can't believe it, this actually looks like Michaelangelo. The way she has arranged the parsley and the noodles. GLORIA. But of course, she calls them food portraits, I adore them. You should see her landscape buffets, they're indefinable! MR. WONG. My plate also really look like Mussolini, I guess fascism add little spice, no? (They all laugh) LYDIA. (Reentering in the usual way) More Marsala, you know you have to have it, you crave it, well now it's commin' to ya! (rushes over to Frank) FRANK. This is so exciting! LYDIA. Alaka Zam! Frederico Filini! FRANK. Oh My! LYDIA. (Throwing the plate of food in her face) Isabella Rossilini! GLORIA. (Reacting almost ogasmically with a sigh) You've out done yourself Lydia, I truly am one with your work! SCENE THREE The First Course The room is now empty . Lydia moaps in with her tray. LYDIA. (Starring at the dirty dishes) I HATE YOU, YOU ARE EVIL! YOU KILLED MY CHILDREN AND YOU TORTURED THEM BEFORE THAT! Now you wish to be cleaned... Well, that would be nice wouldn't it? But I won't even give you the satisfaction. I'll let all that extra food cake on you and harden until it seeps in and stains your inner porcelain soul! (Laughs maniacally) Yessss, then you'll learn not to stack yourself so high that you topple on small children during earthquakes. What? I stacked you? I think not, you did you most ancient of human objects. And if I did in fact stack you, you forced me to, it was all part of your diabolical plan! I know you. Don't think I've just ignored the fact that you are indeed, RUSSIAN CHINA! That's communism times two! You red commie pieces of command economy government stale cheese! I will not clean you, but I guess that would upset Ms. Manville, so I better have Duncan do it. One of your fellow socialist pig dogs! (Yelling) DUNCAN! DUNCAN! (Pause) DUNCAN! (Signing softly to herself) I love you Duncan oh yes I do, I love you Duncan, I love you true. And if you made me, I think I would, make love to you too- Lyrics are EVIL! DUNCAN. (Entering Right) What is it?! They're drinking up a storm out there. LYDIA. Please clean your friends. DUNCAN. What? LYDIA. The DISHES. CLEAN YOUR FRIENDS, THE DISHES! (Makes a cursing hiss at the dishes and bolts out of the room) DUNCAN. I don't have time- (Sighs) Okay... GLORIA. (Off, drunk) Oh Duncan, we're getting thirsty in here. (Laughs) DUNCAN. (Yelling) Coming Ms. Manville! (Exits Right) (Sounds of loud laughter and conversation off Right for a moment. Suddenly Sister Boynton runs in pursued by Mr. Wong) SISTER BOYNTON. (Giggly) Oh, Mr. Wong! MR. WONG. You it! (He chases her round the table and they exit laughing) GLORIA. (Off Right) Wait! Wait! Everyone! It's almost time! It's almost time! (There is a hush. In a loose unison they begin counting down from ten until eventually yelling "Happy New Year!" Suddenly Gloria screams) FRANK. (Off Right) Oh my God! MR. WONG. (Off Right) She dead, as doornail! (Frank laughs and abruptly stops) SCENE FOUR The Main Course Gloria sits at head Left, then Right of her Frank, an empty chair and no place setting, Mr. Wong, and then the chair head Left is empty but there is a plate with food there. They are all eating. FRANK. Mmmm, delicious! I haven't had a breakfast like this in ages. It's amazing how it can really wake you up. GLORIA. Especially after a night like that! MR. WONG. I trust people not always dying in your house, Ms. Manville. GLORIA. (Laughing) Oh no, well, not for ages. FRANK. What?! GLORIA. Well it's really nothing, but the house is suppose to be cursed or some rubbish like that. I think it was just a rumor started by my grandparents to get a lower property tax assessment, us Manvilles are a frugal folk! FRANK. Oh, but that's so interesting. Did someone else just keel over at midnight on New Years Eve like fifty years ago? GLORIA. Actually, it was more like thirty and it was St. Patrick's day. MR. WONG. That person have no four leaf clover. (They laugh) GLORIA. Well Aunt Beatrice was never very lucky, I mean six wisdom teeth, and before good dentistry. FRANK. Her name was Beatrice? GLORIA. Oh yes, I guess that is a coincidence. SISTER BOYNTON. (Entering Left) This house is positively haunting! Creaky doors, drafts, next time I'm just going to hold it. FRANK. We just found out it's cursed too. SISTER BOYNTON. (Sitting down to her meal) Oh dear. Well at least the food is cheery. My Minnie Mouse looks scrupcious! GLORIA. Don't worry Sister Boynton, I'm sure they'll have that snow drift cleared up soon, they can't just let us stay stranded here with no telephone. FRANK. I think it's perfectly marvelous, I mean I can't remember ever being stranded anywhere of late. In our technologically advanced world it's nice to be brought back into the dark ages every once in a while. GLORIA. Well I wouldn't call this the dark ages, we still have electricity, gas, and cable. FRANK. Must you ruin my fun? GLORIA. Sorry. Oh, where is Duncan? I need some more coffee. DUNCAN! (Pause) DUNCAN! (Longer Pause) DUNCAN! Where is he? MR. WONG. Maybe he die too? GLORIA. Oh, don't be ridiculous, two in as many days, that's absurd. Anyway, we only have so much room in the attic for bodies. SISTER BOYNTON. Is that where you put the poor girl? FRANK. Yes. Mr. Wong and I had to lug her all the way up there after you all went to bed. I don't see what was so wrong with the cellar. GLORIA. The smell, it rises. SISTER BOYNTON. Well eventually she'll require a proper burial. I just hope we aren't invited. I mean none of us really knew her and she wasn't that nice anyway. We just happened to be at a party with her coincidentally due to a postal mix up where she happened to die. FRANK. I totally agree, we didn't know her, she barely said anything to us. MR. WONG. Silence golden, but only in moderation. GLORIA. Very wise of you Mr. Wong. I've always loved compound idioms. SISTER BOYNTON. Anyway, she was catholic, and I know how long the service will take. Sometimes I envision purgatory as one long Catholic service. GLORIA. LYDIA! Maybe she'll know where Duncan's gone to. I can't wait till I get experienced help. SISTER BOYNTON. Why not ask her to get your coffee? GLORIA. Oh, she has a thing about pouring fluids, she says it reminds her of blood? LYDIA. (Kicking the door open as usual) Two down, five to go! GLORIA. Lydia. darling, you wouldn't per chance know where Duncan has gotten off to? LYDIA. Don't ya get it? GLORIA. What dear? You know you're operating on a much higher creative plane than I. LYDIA. Maybe I should do it again. (She exits and reenters as before) Two down, five to go! MR. WONG. Ah, butler dead, I right whole time. SISTER BOYNTON. How do you figure that Mr. Wong? MR. WONG. Ms. Manville say earlier, where butler, I say he dead, now he really dead, I right, no? FRANK. (Laughs) Oh, you misunderstand so funnily! GLORIA. I think what we all want to know is how you know that he is in fact dead. LYDIA. It's plain as night! MR. WONG. Exactly! She say, "two down, five to go" one Ms. Beatrice, two cannot one of us be, we five to go, butler only one not here. He dead as doornail. (More or less simultaneously) GLORIA. Dear God! FRANK. Oh my! SISTER BOYNTON. I better cross myself (does) LYDIA. I guess it doesn't pay to be blunt in these subtle times of ours. What the hay, I found him in the cellar all crumpled up at the base of the stairs. He looked like a contortionist. (There is an uncomfortable silence) MR. WONG. Easy job for dead people, much harder when alive. (They all laugh) GLORIA. Well this is awful, it's almost as bad as last time. LYDIA. Yep, but last time they were all murdered, right? FRANK. Murdered! You didn't mention that Gloria. GLORIA. Well I didn't want to cause alarm. SISTER BOYNTON. This is really getting serious. FRANK. I wonder who'll be the next to suffer the awful fate of the "Manville Curse"! GLORIA. Actually it's "The Curse of the Manvilles." FRANK. Oh, that does sound better. SISTER BOYNTON. What's all this about a curse now? FRANK. I think you should tell us exactly what happened on that fateful St. Patrick's day, Gloria. GLORIA. Oh all right. It was 1964, I was but a child. Mummy and Daddy had invited some relatives to stay for the holiday. None of us were Irish, but we all were very amused by their holidays. It was Aunt Beatrice of course, and Uncle Frank- FRANK. What?! GLORIA. Uncle Frank. Then there was my cousin Gloria, my family was never very imaginative with names. SISTER BOYNTON. What were their last names? GLORIA. Oh, how did I remember that? Oh, yes, Frank was named after his family's motherland's currency, he was French. Their last name was Boynton. (Sister Boynton Gasps) MR. WONG. Anyone else, Ms. Manville? GLORIA. Uhhmmm, well yes, of course, the Chinese exchange student they were hosting, Henry Wong. That's right he was the one that got decapitated. (Wong's jaw drops) LYDIA. Oh, she hasn't even gotten to the good part yet, tell them, tell them! GLORIA. Well Beatrice was drowned in the toilet, Henry was beheaded, oh and Frank, well he... FRANK. What, what? LYDIA. This is the best one! GLORIA. Well let's just say he bleed to death. LYDIA. Oh you can't leave out the best part of the story! His, you know, was cut off! FRANK. Oh my God! (Standing up) I've got to get out of here! LYDIA. Oh calm down sonny, that was thirty-three years ago, it's not even a round number. GLORIA. She's right. This isn't a repeat of what happened back then or in any way related to all those innocent people that died building the house. SISTER BOYNTON. What innocent people?! GLORIA. Oh calm down everyone, You're all over-reacting. I mean, there's hasn't even been any howling like the last time. (A deep howl is heard from off stage. Everyone freezes) GLORIA. You aren't experimenting with dog meat again are you, Lydia? (Lydia shakes her head) FRANK. (Disgusted) Dog meat? MR. WONG. Taste very good with right sauce. LYDIA. But it's hell to pry off those bones. (Another deep howl, Off) LYDIA. LET'S BLOW THIS LICORICE SHOP! (She bolts out Right, followed by the hysteric others, the creaky door is heard being flung open) SCENE FIVE Clearing The Table The table now has four bowls of soup arranged on it, preferably steaming, along with Lydia, who lays face down in one of the bowls, her back arched over the "dadaist centerpiece." The lights are off. FRANK. (Entering Left with the others) Well I'm simply famished ... Why are the lights off? GLORIA. Oh God, she's probably made that awful glowing soup again. I mean it's visually spectacular, but what an after taste. MR. WONG. I turn on lights. FRANK. Show, Mr. Wong, don't tell. MR. WONG. But no one can see. (He turns on the lights. They all gasp at the sight of Lydia's body) SISTER BOYNTON. Jesus Christ! ... (Realizing her sacrilege) died for our sins. GLORIA. Oh, why her, take me! I have no talent! (Breaks into sobs over Lydia's body) FRANK. Now this could not have been an accident. Someone is murdering people! MR. WONG. Exactly, Mr. Frank, I think that since Butler die. SISTER BOYNTON. Well why didn't you say anything? MR. WONG. Like, Ms. Manville, I not want to scare everybody. FRANK. Well maybe if you would have scared us, we would have taken precautions and she'd be alive! MR. WONG. I sorry! We all together until everybody go running out into snow. SISTER BOYNTON. I don't know why we thought we'd get anywhere. FRANK. And then Gloria had to realize half way out that a pack of wolves lived out there. GLORIA. Listen to yourselves, you're arguing about senseless things, when a great artist has been killed! The world has lost a genius! We have to find out who's been doing this, and then they'll pay! FRANK. Well who did it last time? GLORIA. I did, but what does that matter? SISTER BOYNTON. Gloria?! GLORIA. Oh, must I tell this story again... FRANK. You killed them? GLORIA. I was possessed by a psychotic rage that left me powerless to control my own motor functions. Three doctors confirmed this and the jury cleared me of any guilt. Satisfied? SISTER BOYNTON. How old were you? GLORIA. Eleven. Now can we please stop discussing my childhood. FRANK. But you killed them, how do we know you didn't kill Beatrice, and the butler, and her? GLORIA. (Nearing tears) How dare you? How could I lay a finger on this, angel... MR. WONG. I very hungry, I wait two hour for lunch. (Sets himself down and begins eating the soup) GLORIA. How can you eat at a time like this? FRANK. Actually, I'm afraid to leave this room, so I might as well eat. (Begins eating too) SISTER BOYNTON. Ah, what the hell...heck. (Joins them) GLORIA. Just don't touch mine! I have to save it as her final master piece. FRANK. Well she's got her face in your, I think it'll be safe. MR. WONG. (Starting) Wait! How we know soup not poisoned? SISTER BOYNTON. Uh oh! FRANK. What is it? SISTER BOYNTON. Does your soup have Paprika in it? FRANK. Is there anything else in this stuff? SISTER BOYNTON. I just remembered the Latin word for paprika. My mother would say it to me. She said it was the devil's spice. MR. WONG. What that mean? SISTER BOYNTON. Well my mother, besides choosing to say select word exclusively in Latin, also spoke very metaphorically. When she said it was the devil's spice, she probably meant to say that I was highly allergic to it in large doses. Which means. Oh, my God! (Crosses herself) Oh heavenly father, please let all that medical science has leaned in the last century or so be a huge fallacy and thus making you the only true arbitrator of life and death. Spare me, because in this day and age, even a half-assed nun is better than no nun at all. He's...He's doing it, I'm not going to die, I feel happy, I feel like I'm drunk. I feel woozy, I...(She slides off her chair and collapses on the floor) MR. WONG. Four down, three to go! FRANK. You're not funny anymore, Mr. Wong. GLORIA. Oh, I hope I'm next, I just can't take this much sorrow anymore. And besides, who'll cook? FRANK. Well we won't starve, there's food here isn't there? GLORIA. She's hidden it. FRANK. What? GLORIA. She said it made her recipes more spontaneous if she just happened upon the ingredients while walking through the house. She was so unnecessarily avante garde... (Sobs) FRANK. Well we can find it. What concerns me more is who's killing everyone. MR. WONG. Cook kill nun. GLORIA. But Lydia could not harm a fly. MR. WONG. She put paprika in soup. GLORIA. But she put it in everything. FRANK. But not in such large doses. He's right, she must have know. GLORIA. What reason would she have to kill Sister Boynton? MR. WONG. What reason anyone here kill anyone? People just die. GLORIA. It must be the curse, it is real. FRANK. Well what else possessed you to kill your relatives? GLORIA. A Disney movie, where else do you think I got the money to buy all these paintings and support Lydia's career. FRANK. I'm getting confused. MR. WONG. What exactly curse, Ms. Manville? GLORIA. Oh, there's some rhyme about it, but I can't remember it off hand. FRANK. Try! GLORIA. Let's see... Manville hall, more glass than wall- No, that's something else. Oh, I remember it now. Manville Hall, quite banal, Pretty boring all in all. Every so often, When a holiday there be, The guests will die, Horribly. Why, who knows? Water flows. But Manville Hall, Quite Banal, Once in a while, Not banal at all. FRANK. That's awful. GLORIA. What did you expect? It's not like we hired Robert Frost to write it, we Manvilles are a frugal folk, remember? MR. WONG. So, poem say people die, so house not boring. GLORIA. I don't have a clue what it means, it's just something that was carved into the key stone by the only worker not killed by the fire. FRANK. I won't ask. GLORIA. Now if you don't mind, I think I'll throw myself out of the tower, I see no more meaning in life anymore. All this senseless violence ... (Makes for the door Right) FRANK. You can't do that. There's lots worth living for. And anyway, no one was really stabbed or anything. It was all rather humane. GLORIA. Humane! She was drowned in her own soup! No, I've had enough. Oh, my last words ... I think life is like painting, once you put brush to canvas, you can't stop. It's never done, until you have to sell it to someone else, then your work dies. Unless of course it's burned or destroyed first. I'm just using selling as a metaphor for dying of natural causes. Just tell my kids I left everything to Lydia, so they won't get a dime! FRANK. Yes they will, they're the next of kin, since she's dead they get it all. GLORIA. Oh, damn! Why can't dying be simpler. MR. WONG. You could write will. GLORIA. I don't know if I'll still have the nerve to do it after that. Is there such a thing as an oral will? FRANK. I don't know. GLORIA. Well let's hope. I'm leaving everything to whoever cries first at my funeral. That should make those ungrateful furious. Now if you would ignore these last few sentences and go with the last words I said earlier, I'll be off. Adieu! (Runs out Right) FRANK. (Chases her, but is stopped at the door, afraid to leave the room) But Gloria- MR. WONG. Good soup! FRANK. I can't believe all of this, it's crazy. MR. WONG. Longest day has end. FRANK. What's that suppose to mean? MR. WONG. Don't worry, it be all over sometime. FRANK. Well maybe, but I can't just forget that all this happened. I'm going to be scared for life. Hey wait! I can't let her go kill herself. Everyone will blame me for not trying to stop her. I hope there's still time! (Runs out Right) MR. WONG. (Happily drinking soup) . Manville Hall, Quite Banal, Once in while, Not banal at all. Not curse, blessing. I wonder how I go? SCENE SIX Washing The Dishes The bodies have been cleared along with the dishes. On the radio we hear a cheery voice say, "... And now for Community Oddities, with your host, Strom Thompson!" Women sing in harmony, "Community Oddities!" STROM. (Over radio) Well this week our program really seems to have meaning. It won't be just another case of eighty-some cats being discovered in an elderly woman's apartment, although that did happen again. No, this week it seems that seven people died horribly at Manville Hall, the supposedly cursed residence of freed mass-murderer Gloria Manville, which was recently found to be built atop an early Dutch cemetery which was built upon an ancient Indian burial ground. Although the authorities reject any possible occult forces at work, it may seem odd to the you folks at home, how the deaths occurred. With us now is Detective Banning. Good evening, Detective. DETECTIVE. Good evening. STROM. Tell us how they died. DETECTIVE. Well, it pretty unbelievable, but all the evidence is clear as crystal. Some old lady died of a stroke. Some kid tripped down the cellar stairs, we even found the protruding nail he tripped over with a scrap of leather from his shoe on it. The cook, for some bizarre reason, seems to have been standing on the table, with one leg, don't ask how they know all this. Anyway, she falls, breaks her back, is paralyzed and can't get her head out of a soup bowl, dies of drowning. Then there's the two we found outside, Gloria Manville and some other guy. Coroner tells me she probably jumped, he grabbed her scarf, it caught around her neck, she swings into the side of the house. This explains the broken window on the second floor, that really threw us for awhile. Anyways, this guy gets pulled over with her and they both fall. He dies on impact, she, having had her fall broken half way, survives, but is so injured by hitting the window and the fall that she can't escape the wolves and they pick her apart. Then two others were finished off by violent allergic reactions to the paprika and pistachio oil in the soup they were having. STROM. Who makes soup with pistachio oil? DETECTIVE. Who the hell's ever heard of pistachio oil? END OF PLAY