Once Upon a Neurosis by Annamarie Saliba
Once Upon a Neurosis or Dysfunctional Dizzney
(Trio enters - Flora up steps SR, Merryweather up steps SL, Fauna C
through curtain. Wearing tutus and carrying wands, the group
introduces the play, sings, signals action)
Trio:
(singing) D-I-Z-Z-(pause)-N-E-Y
We're your fabulous three!
(unison) Hello, Friends, and welcome to the worldwide premiere of Once
Upon a Neurosis
(or Dysfunctional Dizzney)! We're your musical tour guides for
today's performance:
FLORA: I'm Flora
FAUNA: I'm Fauna
MERRYWEATHER: I'm Merryweather
(unison) And, together, we're the Dizzney Sisters!!!
(Trio sings "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes")
(unison) So, let's get this show on the road, shall we?
FLORA: Lights, (Waving wand, Rest of spots up, Flora leaves)
FAUNA: Curtain, (Curtain parts slightly for W.D., Fauna leaves)
MERRYWEATHER: Action! (W.D. enters/sits in rocking chair, opens
storybook, looks at Merry, she leaves)
WALTER: (Enters, sits in rocking chair, opens giant storybook,
begins reading) Once upon a time, not terribly long ago, in a tall
office building in Orlando, Florida, there worked a therapist.
(Curtain opens, Funkhouser enters,begins tidying office) This was no
ordinary, run-of-the-mill, garden-variety therapist, People; this
chick had framed degrees to fill a wall. Dartmouth undergrad, a year
abroad at Oxford, Princeton grad school, Yale doctorate, post-doctoral
degrees from Harvard and Columbia—you name it; she's studied it.
And in all that research and networking, Dr. Funk-, I mean, Dr.
Houser, hit upon the perfect market, a completely untapped new field
specializing in the treatment of fantasy characters.
FUNKHOUSER: (buzzes for receptionist) Hello? W.D.? Where is
today's appointment schedule? I'd like to be prepared for the
first dayor, at least, as prepared as possible
WALTER: Well, it's showtime, folks! By the way, I'm W.D., the
administrative assistant. Don't tell anybody, but my real name is
WalterDizzney. No relation. (closes book, puts on glasses,
muttering under breath) Who writes this stuff? (pretends to enter
office from offstage) Hi-ho, Doc! Here's the illustrious roster of
today's crazies
FUNKHOUSER: Clients, W.D.in this office, we refer to them as
clients. What you call them on your own time is up to you. (Smiles.)
(Cinderella walks in unannounced, wearing gloves, carrying a large
purse. When introductions are made, she avoids shaking hands.)
FUNKHOUSER: Good morning, Cinderella, I'm Dr. Houser, and this is my
assistant, Mr. Dizzney-no-relation. (double-take from C.) W.D., would
you prepare the patient information forms? (as Walter leaves, she
plucks a stray hair from the back of his jacket, pulls out a dustpan
and handbroom, sweeping up after him.) You're a bit early, but
that's just fine. Come in and have a seat wherever you feel most
comfortable. (Cinderella approaches the high-back chair and looks down
at the seat, critiquing each fiber.) Is something wrong?
CINDERELLA: (She pulls a piece of plastic from her purse and gently
places it on couch.) You can never be too careful…or clean, for that matter.
(muttering under breath) No telling how many nutcases have sat here.
FUNKHOUSER: Clients? Actually, you're the first. I mean, the
first today, of course.
CINDERELLA: Oh, great. All the shrinks in Orlando, and I get the
virgin. Oh, well, maybe the first time will be lucky, for both of us.
FUNKHOUSER: Yes, let's think positively, shall we? First, could I
have your signature to authorize treatment? We can take care of routine medical
back-ground forms following the session. (Cinderella sanitizes hands before and
after signing form.) Well, I thought we'd begin by discussing what you really feel
you'd like to work on.
CINDERELLA: (looking up from tediously straightening her clothes)
You're the therapist. You tell me what I need to work on.
FUNKHOUSER: Certainly, you exhibit some signs of OCDuh, pardon me,
that translates Obsessive Com
CINDERELLA: (interrupts) Dr. Hoozer, is it? I'm well-acquainted
with the alphabet. I'm neglected and ill-used, not ignorant.
FUNKHOUSER: My apologies. As you well know, OCD behaviors often mask
a deeper problem, so the best way to treat your compulsive cleanliness
is to dig out the root issue. On the telephone you communicated to me,
very well, I might add, that you feel a bit of…resentment towards
your stepfamily. Also, the fact that your boyfriend, (rustling through file)
Mr. Charming, has been unfaithful has caused you great…anger?
CINDERELLA: (shocked) Anger? ANGER?!?! Try flippin' RAGE! That
pampered little prince won my heart, my love…he gave me a ring, for
pity's sake, then took it back to give it to some chick named after
precipitation.
FUNKHOUSER: I don't mean to interrupt, but who is this other woman?
CINDERELLA: I don't know; I think her name is Snow Something. It
doesn't matter; he left her, too. Supposedly he hooked up with
Mother Goose. Spoiled brat…he just wanted a rich old bird to buy
his toys and clothes, then kick the bucket and leave him a huge
fortune.
FUNKHOUSER: What makes you say that?
CINDERELLA: He liked the good life. Expensive pumpkin-shaped
carriages, fancy balls, fairy godpeople everywhere to grant all of his
stupid wishes. I have to admit, that boy knew how to live.
FUNKHOUSER: Then, I think our primary focus today should be your
boyfriend uh, former boyfriend. Tell me about your relationship
before the two of you began to have…troubles.
CINDERELLA: Begin at the beginning, right? See, back when I was
still talking to rats and swishing toilets, this royal ball invitation
came to the house. I really wanted to go, too, but I knew if I asked
my stepmother she would laugh in my face. (twisting purse in her
hands) I just couldn't have handled that, you know, because
sometimes people get to that place where they just snap.
FUNKHOUSER: Yes, people do occasionally "snap" as you said.
CINDERELLA: Well, I was there. I wanted to take that old bat's
head off. I wasn't even going to try for the ball, just so I
wouldn't have to suffer the humiliation of asking. (starts to grab
a chair, wipes it down first) I was so oppressed by those tyrannical,
heinous…oh, Doctor Howitzer…
FUNKHOUSER: It's okay, Cinderella, go ahead. I'm very comfortable
with tears. (offers tissues)
CINDERELLA: (outraged) You see me crying? I never let them get to
me that way; I just wanted revenge. So, I called up Fairy
Godmother's Fashion Frenzy, and they sent someone over. It was like
that girl just waved a wand, and I was…fabulous. When I walked into
the castle, everything stopped. All eyes were on me…my stepmother
and stepsisters were clueless, but even they couldn't stop
staring
FUNKHOUSER: Why do you think that occurred?
CINDERELLA: Because I was a knockout. Heck, if I hadn't been so
busy cleaning baseboards, I would have dated myself. But that's
beside the point. Prince, that's his first name, took one look at me
and forgot all about foreign affairs and expansionist campaigns. If
it hadn't been for that stupid curfew and those…horribly
impractical glass stilettos, I would have…well, you know…
(buzzer sounds)
WALTER: Doctor Houser, your next appointment is here, and
he'swell, let's just say, restless.
FUNKHOUSER: Oh, dear, just when we're making such excellent
progress. Cinderella, I'd really like to see you again next week.
Check with my assistant on your way out.
CINDERELLA: (confused) Funny, that's what Prince Charming always
said…