Lights up in an alleyway. A nicely dressed couple enters.
RITA: Are you sure this is where you parked, Michael?
MICHAEL: Positive. I always park in the alley next to the pawn shop when we go to the theater. It’s tradition.
RITA: Michael, the pawn shop is a block over.
MICHAEL: What? Are you sure?
RITA: I’m absolutely sure. I saw it after we passed the guy peeing on the “No Parking” sign.
MICHAEL: Oh. That explains it. For a second, I thought someone stole the car.
RITA: Let’s go. This alley’s giving me the creeps.
MICHAEL: Yeah, let’s—
(A MUGGER with a gun steps in front of them.)
MUGGER: Hold it! Hands up! This is a stick-up!
RITA: Oh my God!
MICHAEL: Whoa, whoa! Look, take whatever you want. No need for violence!
MUGGER: (ignoring him) You! Hand over your purse!
RITA: (hands it over) Here.
MUGGER: Good. (looks inside) Now, you—
RITA: Wait!
MUGGER: What?
RITA: Can I take a couple of photos out of there?
MUGGER: Photos?
MICHAEL: Rita, not the time—
RITA: It’s Becca and Tippy. He doesn’t need pictures of Becca and Tippy.
MUGGER: (sighs) Fine. Take the pictures of Becca and Tippy. Just hurry it up!
RITA: (takes out photos) Thank you. Oh! And these tampons. You definitely don’t need these. (removes two tampons and hands the purse back.)
MUGGER: Now you! Wallet! (MICHAEL hands it over. The MUGGER tosses the photos at RITA.) Jewelry, too. Let’s go!
MICHAEL: We’re not really “jewelry people.”
(A cell phone rings.)
MUGGER: What the hell is that?
RITA: (points to her purse) I think it’s mine. May I?
MUGGER: Make it quick!
RITA: (answers) Hello? Rachel! Hi! … No, this is fine.
MICHAEL: (to MUGGER) It’s Rachel.
RITA: Oh, we loved the show! I cried all through Act III. … No, Jim’s wrong—it’s way better than Wicked!
MUGGER: Lady!
RITA: Hold on. Rachel, I’ve got to go. I’m in the middle of something. … Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye. (hangs up, puts the phone back in the purse, and hands it back to the MUGGER) Sorry. Where were we?
MUGGER: Where were we?! I have a gun, lady! I was saying jewelry! Watches! Now!
(Another phone rings. The MUGGER’s patience wears thin.)
MUGGER: Oh, for the love of—whose phone is it this time?
RITA: I’ll bet it’s Jim.
MUGGER: (snaps) I don’t care if it’s Jim, Rachel, or freakin’ Tippy! Nobody’s answering that phone!
(The ringing continues. The MUGGER suddenly realizes it’s his own phone. He answers.)
MUGGER: Yo, Beanie! What’s up, Dogg? … Nah, just working. … Yeah, right now! A couple in an alley. … (looks at RITA) She’s alright. AAAAAAAAAA! … Okay, Tuesday. I’m there. Later. (hangs up) Sorry about that. Beanie. He’s a trip.
MICHAEL: Wait. Did you just say Beanie? As in Beanie McDougall?
MUGGER: Yeah.
MICHAEL: That’s my cousin!
MUGGER: Get outta here!
MICHAEL: No, seriously! Beanie and I practically grew up together!
MUGGER: Damn, small world!
MICHAEL: So, you can’t rob Beanie’s cousin, right?
MUGGER: Oh, I totally can. Beanie’s an asshole. Now give me those car keys.
(MICHAEL reluctantly reaches into his pocket. A phone rings again, and everyone freezes, unsure where it’s coming from.)
MICHAEL: Wait. That’s mine.
(He pulls out a small pistol from his jacket and shoots the MUGGER. The phone keeps ringing.)
MICHAEL: Dumbass. It was his phone.
(They start to leave, but RITA stops, picks up her purse, the wallet, and the jewelry. She eyes the MUGGER’s phone, picks it up, and answers.)
RITA: Beanie? Hey, it’s Rita. Want to talk to Michael?
(They exit. Blackout.)