Stuffing: A Thanksgiving Play In One Act
(True Story 2009)
Players:
Son: A loutish bearded hack in his early 30s.
Mom: Early 50s. A million miles a minute.
Setting: Mom and Son are perched on a power line like two strange black birds. They sit high above their Indiana neighborhood.
The sound of a ringing phone is heard.
Mom: (placing thumb in ear and speaking into her pinky) Hello?
Son: (also with thumb in ear and speaking into pinky) Hey, I was wondering if you’re still coming over for Thanksgiving?
Mom: Uh, yeah, what time?
Son: Oh, about 3 or 4…whatever.
Mom: Ok, do you have cranberry sauce?
Son: Yeah, I think I have everything squared away.
Mom: I’m trying to get your brother to drive…so I can get tanked. Do you have cranberry sauce?
Son: Yeah, have cranberry sauce.
Mom: That little asshole better drive. I’ll bring plastic plates and forks and wine and pumpkin pie. Do you have enough ice? It’s a drag when there isn’t enough ice.
Son: Yeah, ice is covered.
Mom: Do you have cranberry sauce?
Son: Yes. Yes, I have cranberry sauce. And I bought a fifteen pound bird.
Mom: Yeah, then why don’t you stuff it with your fist and fuck it. Bye.
Mom removes thumb and pinky phone from her face and disappears in a puff of vapor.
Son forms thumb and finger into shape of gun and places it at his temple.
Curtain.
Tim Murray (b. 1977) is a gifted flamenco dancer. His dream vacation is to visit Northwest Indiana. Talk to him in Ohio, and he’ll probably tell you more stuff.
