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Christopher Mulrooney
Artist & Model
sketch

 

An artist’s studio.

Babcock Miklejohn, artist
Miranda, his wife
Thorwald Ingram, gallery director
Prissy Tailfeather, estate agent

Babcock: All day long I’m—
Prissy: It’s me.
Babcock: I wanted a—I wanted to talk about getting another place. To stay.
Prissy: No problem. Downtown.
Babcock
: Somewhere else. Out of town. I don’t care where. I’ve just got to get out.
Prissy: What’s the matter with this place? I got you this place.
Babcock: It’s no good. I don’t like it, now.
Prissy: OK. I’ll look around.

(She exits.)

Babcock: (Sings.) Oh dem golden slippers. Oh dem golden slippers. Golden slippers—
Miranda: I’m going now.
Babcock: Fine.
Miranda: You want anything?
Babcock: No.

(She exits.)

Babcock: Golden slippers. To wear. Ah-dee, ah-dee-dee-dee.

(He pores over drawings, makes brief notations, adds a few lines, etc.)

Babcock: Ah.
Thorwald: Got a minute?
Babcock: What do you want?
Thorwald: I’ve got a 9:30 scheduled. Can’t wait to chat. Got to run now.
Babcock: What?
Thorwald: What do you want?
Babcock: What do I want?
Thorwald: You called me. I got your message.
Babcock: I don’t want anything. Get out.
Thorwald: You didn’t call me.
Babcock: Why should I call you? Have I ever called you for anything?
Thorwald: No, you never have.
Babcock: So what do you want.
Thorwald: I don’t want anything.
Babcock: Get out.
Thorwald: I’m going
Babcock: Go on.

(Thorwald exits.)

Babcock: Not a minute. Not a minute. That’s the one. That’s it, baby. Oh, I don’t think so. Maybe that’s the one. Oh, I don’t think so. Could be.

Thorwald: Listen, I should—
Babcock: Yeah, it’s right—
Thorwald: OK.
Babcock: Take a look.
Thorwald: OK, great. Fine.
Babcock: OK?
Thorwald: Next week. Slap ‘em up.
Babcock: Yep.
Thorwald: OK.
Babcock: Get this one right. This here. It goes one over, all right?
Thorwald: That’s right. I see that.
Babcock: Call me later, if absolutely necessary.
Thorwald: OK, will do.
Babcock: Right.
Thorwald: Moving?
Babcock: Something else, some other thing. Some other fucking damn place.
Thorwald: When? You know when?
Babcock: Next week. Slap it up.
Thorwald: Model’s here.
Babcock: Come in, sit down.
Thorwald: See you.

(Thorwald exits. Miranda enters, unrecognizable.)

Miranda: Hello. I just wanted to say—
Babcock: Yeah. All right?
Miranda: Of course. Here?
Babcock: Right here. Fifteen minutes.
Miranda: No problem at all.
Babcock: I just want. No. See this? Good.
Miranda: That’s about as far—
Babcock: That’s it. Dum-di-dee. OK, fine. I couldn’t have done this better myself. (Hums.) No, the other way. Yes, that’s it. That’s better. Oh yes. Definitely. I think so. I really do. I really do truly think so.
Miranda: Just—
Babcock: Yeah, whatever. Relax. Breathe.
Miranda: OK.
Babcock: I’m going to move somewhere else, don’t like this place.
Miranda: You don’t like this place?
Babcock: I’m working, now.
Miranda: Wait, now. What did you want?
Babcock: This. And now that.
Miranda: That’s right.
Babcock: Just a few more, a few more. Oh kay, I’ve got that. I wanted that.
Miranda: There’s more?
Babcock: Wait just a minute. Wait while I—
Miranda: Have you ever thought of a houseboat?
Babcock: Like, um? And the other one.
Miranda: Sort of like, actually, yes.
Babcock: Well, then. It’s you. Why?
Miranda: Why not?
Babcock: Oh, it’s you?
Miranda: Who did you think it was?
Babcock: I thought it was a model.
Miranda: A girl from the agency.
Babcock: Precisely. That’s funny.
Miranda: Did you finish it?
Babcock: Yeah. Yes I did.
Miranda: Is it good? Is it going to be good?
Babcock: Oh yes.
Miranda: Well then.
Babcock: Fancy that. That saves me a bit of work. All I need to do is call Prissy.
Miranda: What for?
Babcock: To tell her. Not moving.
Miranda: Unmoved. No movers.
Babcock: He didn’t care what he dropped, the unmoved mover. That’s what he thinks.

Thorwald: Look at the design for my new gallery.
Babcock: What new gallery?
Thorwald: The one I’m working on now.
Miranda: Why? Or why now.
Thorwald: It isn’t something I’ve been working on very long, but I’ve always wanted it.
Babcock: Why?
Thorwald: I wanted it.
Miranda: Oh.
Babcock: Ah, I had wanted to finish this up today.
Miranda: I thought you had finished it.
Babcock: No. Not quite. It’s a real nice thing.
Miranda: I think so too.
Thorwald: You like it, really? I like it. I think it’s great.

Prissy: I couldn’t find anything. Buy it, lease it, lend it. No way.
Babcock: I don’t want it any more.
Prissy: Anyway—
Miranda: Take a look at this.
Prissy: Oh that’s terrible. What’s the point?
Thorwald: A better class of rents? Don’t you like it, then?
Prissy: Let me find you something. This I can do.
Babcock: You won’t go too far?
Thorwald: I go where they send me.
Prissy: I have something right nearby.
Miranda: Finally a home for our friend. I can’t think of anything as nice as that. Fine, fine.

 

 

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