One Great Big Light by David Mauriello

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This Play is the copyright of the Author and must not be Copied or Performed without the Author's prior consent

THE CAST

WOMAN - late seventies, early eighties, plucky, wears worn slacks, old
sneakers, sweater, shawl.

MAN - early sixties, kindly, dressed tastefully in casual clothing

THE SET

A yard somewhere in rural Maine Props: a folding lawn chair and a
cardboard box filled with old magazines. THE TIME

The present, a sunny morning in early Autumn

(running time approximately ten minutes)

ONE GREAT BIG LIGHT

AT RISE: (WOMAN sits on an old folding chair. On the ground beside her
is a cardboard box large enough to hold twenty or so magazines. SHE
reaches down for the box as if to pet it, RISES suddenly, PICKS up the
box, changes her mind, SETS the box down on the ground and SITS
again.)

(OFF, a CAR ENGINE is heard, grows louder, stops. WOMAN looks in
direction of car, looks at box, not sure what to do. SHE starts to get
up as MAN enters. WOMAN sits back, adopts a chip- on-her shoulder
attitude, watches as MAN approaches. MAN stops a few feet from woman.
HE looks at box, looks around.)

MAN: (slight sarcasm) This the yard sale?

WOMAN: In the box.

(MAN stares down at the box, then stares at her)

What? Maybe you're mixed up. There's a big yard sale three streets
down. Six families. Signs on all the trees.

MAN: I saw you tacking your sign on that tree. You put one tack right
in the center and

WOMAN: (interrupting) It's the only tack I had. It was holding up my
calendar.

MAN: But you put it in the center of the sign.

WOMAN: So?

MAN: Soo, your sign is a thin piece of paper. The sides folded into
the middle. People aren't going to be able to read it.

WOMAN: You read it.

MAN: But I had to get out of my car. (turns away) Why am I even
wasting my

WOMAN: (looking off) Massachusetts. What are you doing way up in Maine
and so early in the day? You a leaf peeper? Season ain't in full
yet.

MAN: I'm, just, driving.

WOMAN: Looking for yard sales. Well why don't you look?

MAN: I, really don't know why I stopped. I'm sorry. (HE starts to
exit)

WOMAN: That makes two of us.

(MAN stops, looks at her)

I really don't know why I'm selling his magazines. The dream said
they were worth something. I guess it meant they're worth something
to me.

MAN: The dream?

[end of extract]

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