4 things: Pregnant cow, Eastern Towhee, frittata, coffee

Event:  Valentine’s Day

Location: Camp site in winter

Characters: DARCY; 38. EFFIE; 43, her lover.

At rise: LIGHTS up on a camp site in winter. DARCY and EFFIE are stomping their feet and blowing into their palms above a nearly dead fire pit. There are a few pathetic puffs of smoke.

DARCY:         So much for that gourmet breakfast frittata.

EFFIE:            I don’t get it. I’ve always had good luck with building a fire.

DARCY:         I don’t really care about the frittata, but I would like some coffee.

EFFIE:            I just don’t get it.

DARCY:         Yeah, Hon, you keep saying that. We need to move beyond your disbelief into some action.

EFFIE:            I didn’t think it was going to be this cold mid-February. We had that warm spell. . . . I heard the Eastern Towhee was/

DARCY:         /yeah, I’ve heard this, “When the Eastern Towhee tweets, it’s time for camping retreats”.

EFFIE:            You don’t need to get ugly about it.

DARCY:         You know, I’m as cantankerous as a pregnant heifer when I haven’t had my coffee! Woman! You were raised in the mountains and I’m from the Bronx! WHAT CAN WE DO TO MOVE THE NEEDLE ON THIS SITUATION???

EFFIE: [Snapping out of her self-disappointed daze] Okay. Okay. Ummm—grab the paper towels from the pop-up. We’ll start over.

DARCY:         Shall I get all paper products? Tampons?

EFFIE:            Yes! And. . . uh. . .shit. . . let me drag this log over and get some twigs.

[Both EXIT opposite sides and are gone for one whole minute while the non-fire continues to issue forth a sad, single smoke line. ENTER EFFIE dragging a log.]

EFFIE:            Okay! [Runs off, returns again with twigs, etc… as DARCY ENTERS from opposite side of stage with a roll of paper towels and variety of feminine hygiene products. They stuff, poke the fire with the items and at one point while both are on hands and knees, they kiss.]

DARCY:         Happy Valentine’s Day.

EFFIE:            You’re not mad at me?

DARCY:         How could I be mad at you? You’ve worked so hard to light my fire. [Another kiss.]

EFFIE: [Strikes a match, the fire takes hold. She blows the flame as does DARCY. LIGHTS fade to black.]

END OF PLAY