(A table is onstage, set with two chairs, turned out so that actors will be facing the audience while sitting in them. ALFRED makes some rummaging/crashing noises offstage. Lights rise on the stage. AMY is an over-stressed mother, ALFRED is an ex-British real estate agent, POLICE is, well, the police.)


AMY: (entering stage left) H-hello?

ALFRED: (offstage) Oh, hello! Nice place you’ve got here.

AMY: Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?

ALFRED: (entering stage right, looking around stage) Yes, I see you keep it very clean. Minimalist, I’ll say.

AMY: This is a private residence.

ALFRED: (tugging on the front curtain) Nice upholstery.

AMY: Please leave.

ALFRED: Leave? Well I can’t exactly finish my appraisal if I leave, now can I?

AMY: Your appraisal?

ALFRED: Well, yes.

AMY: Why are you appraising my house?

ALFRED: Well I’m going to sell it, of course!

AMY: Sell it?!

ALFRED: Oh, yes. Lovely little two story cottage like yours will go fast, what with the housing market like it is today.

AMY: I’m sorry -

ALFRED: Especially with young couples moving into the town like they are -

AMY: Excuse me -

ALFRED: And what with you showing that the place can still look good even with minimal furniture -

AMY: You can’t sell my house.

ALFRED: Can’t sell it? Well, of course I can! I’m Alfred B. Cabenbody, the finest real estate agent in the west! If it exists, I can sell it.

AMY: Well that’s not exactly what I mean.

ALFRED: Oh?

AMY: I’m not trying to suggest that you wouldn’t be able to sell it -

ALFRED: It certainly came off that way.

AMY: Just that, well, you can’t sell it.

ALFRED: Can’t sell it? Well, of course I can! I’m Alfred B. Cabenbody, the finest real estate agent in the west!

AMY: No, you’re still not understanding me. You can’t sell this house -

ALFRED: Can’t sell it? Well, of course I -

AMY: Because I’m living in it.

ALFRED: Well that shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll just call the police and tell them that there’s a squatter living in a property I’m attempting to sell, and that I want her removed.

AMY: No, I should be the one calling the police to tell them that help, there’s some strange man who’s broken into my house and now he’s trying to sell it.

ALFRED: Should we call the police, then?

AMY: I’ll do it. Don’t think I won’t.

ALFRED: Go right ahead.

AMY: (goes over to phone, tentatively picks it up, dials) Hello, police? A man has broken into my house. Yes. No, I don’t think he’s stolen anything, but he is trying to sell it. (beat) Yes. Trying to sell the house. Well, thank you officer. (hangs up)

ALFRED: Well, let me guess. He told you to get out of my house.

AMY: No, he said he was on his way.

ALFRED: To remove you.

AMY: Hmpf. We’ll see.

(long pause. both characters are just standing still on stage, stonefaced looking into the audience, waiting for the police to arrive. Eventually, ALFRED slowly and deliberately turns his head to AMY and sticks out his tongue, before returning to standing, impatiently waiting, staring stonefaced towards the audience. AMY then slowly puts her hands up to her ears, sticks out her tongue and wiggles her fingers before doing the same. very long pause. the two occasionally glare at each other. you want the audience to be laughing from how long it has been silent.)

AMY: I hate waiting.

ALFRED: Mmm.

(long pause)

AMY: Do you want me to make you some tea?

ALFRED: That would be nice, yes.

(AMY exits stage left. ALFRED keeps waiting for a minute, then looks around and pulls a tape measure out of his pocket. He begins to measure various parts of the stage)

AMY: (entering stage left, carrying platter with two tea cups and assorted tea bags) Now I don’t have any Earl Grey, because I left mine in the sun and it blanched, but would you - what are you doing?!

ALFRED: (awkwardly shutting tape measure and standing up - the more accidental the awkwardness looks, the better) Nothing.

AMY: Were you taking -

ALFRED: No.

AMY: The dimensions of my house -

ALFRED: No.

AMY: While I was making tea for you?!

ALFRED: Maybe.

(AMY is furious. She angrily puts - not slams - the teas onto the table, then puts one at either seat)

AMY: (quiet rage) Well, I hope you aren’t expecting any sugar.

(the two prepare their teas when a doorbell rings)

POLICE: Open up, it’s the police!

AMY: I’ll be right -

ALFRED: It’s open!

(AMY stares at ALFRED. ALFRED just shrugs, then goes back to drinking his tea)

POLICE: (entering stage right) You know, sir, if you want to prevent people from breaking into your house, locking your doors might be a good place to start.

AMY: No one is breaking into his house! He’s breaking into mine!

POLICE: Oh, really, ma’am? Then why is it that I distinctly remember hearing a man’s voice on the telephone?

(AMY looks stricken, ALFRED shrugs)

ALFRED: You do have a rather deep voice, you know. But, sir, I’m sorry to say that she was in fact the one who called the police.

POLICE: Oh, really? (presents himself) Well then, ma’am, what seems to be the problem?

AMY: The problem is that this man here has broken into my house and is - (just noticing) say, you aren’t dressed like a police officer.

POLICE: I’m undercovers.

AMY: Undercovers?

POLICE: Or at least I was until you woke me up. So, what exactly is the problem, again?

AMY: This man broke into my house.

POLICE: And?

AMY: And?!

POLICE: Well, he doesn’t look to be causing any trouble to me.

AMY: Well he is trying to sell the place off.

POLICE: Oh, really?

ALFRED: Yes, a lovely two-floor cottage like this will go fast, especially with the market -

AMY: Yes, yes, with the market the way it is, we get it. (ALFRED shrinks in his chair)

POLICE: I see. And the problem is?

AMY: Well the problem is that it isn’t his.

POLICE: Oh. (to ALFRED) Sir, do you own this house?

ALFRED: Well, no.

POLICE: Then I’m sorry to say, sir, but you can’t sell it.

ALFRED: Can’t sell it? Well, of course I can! I’m Alfred B. Cabenbody, the finest real estate agent in the west! If it exists, I can sell it.

POLICE: Well, no, sir, I don’t so much mean that you wouldn’t be able to -

AMY: (putting a hand on the POLICE) Trust me, sir, that is one rabbit hole you do not want to jump down.

POLICE: (removes AMY’s hand) Thank you ma’am, but just so you know, even just touching me technically counts as assaulting a police -

ALFRED: (dragging the POLICE by the arm) For instance, just come with me -

POLICE: -Ooofficer.

ALFRED: -and let me show you some of the house’s features. Now, the decor is a little on the sparse side - woman who lived here last wasn’t much of a homemaker, and thank God, what with her terrible taste -

AMY: Hey!

ALFRED: But you can see the sheer amount of space the room has, and that the entire area still works even minimally furnished. Now over here (moves towards curtains) we have the entryway, a lovely piece still left untouched by the wench who lives here now, with some of the original upholstery left intact.

AMY: Can’t you see? He’s trying to sell you the house.

POLICE: Yes, I can see that.

AMY: Well, do something!

POLICE: Well, I am.

AMY: What?

POLICE: I’m considering placing a bid.

AMY: What!?

POLICE: Well, the wife and I have been wanting to expand the family for some time now, and this house looks like such a good place to raise a family -

AMY: I know! I did it!

POLICE: So I don’t see how I could pass up an opportunity like this.

AMY: (angry gasp)

ALFRED: And you shouldn’t! Just look at this, the original hardwood floor -

AMY: (trying to prevent the sale) It never stops creaking!

ALFRED: Which matches this outside wall here (gesturing towards the fourth wall) perfectly -

AMY: It’s hardly insulated! I freeze in the winters!

ALFRED: A wall which, I have no need to tell you, is perfectly maintained -

AMY: There’s no soundproofing! Sometimes I swear I can hear voices through it! (stares directly at loudest part of the house, drops character voice) Yeah, we can hear you.

POLICE: Well I wouldn’t say perfectly maintained, there is this little crack here -

AMY: I’ll crack you!

ALFRED: Not a problem at all, we can have that fixed. Now if we want to move on to the rest of the house -

POLICE: I don’t think there’s any need. I love it. Let me talk to the missus, then I can give you my offer. How soon can we close?

ALFRED: Oh, there shouldn’t be any issue closing at all, none at all. I should think we could do it in a matter of weeks.

AMY: (very angry, then trailing off) I’ll close your- ...something.

ALFRED: But let me tell you, you’ll simply love the upstairs, you must come see it.

POLICE: (jokingly exasperated) Alright, if I must.

(The two exit stage left, with AMY standing there, dumbfounded, staring after them. After a moment, ALFRED leans back in, puts his hand to his nose, sticks his tongue out and waggles his fingers, before disappearing back offstage. AMY, shellshocked, wanders back over to the table where she sits, looks around in shock and awe, then takes a sip of her tea. Blackout)