CAT-astrophe
A play for puppets
By Bev Kaufman
Cast
Aaron: a cat
Abby: his sister
Mommy: their human, appearing only as a disembodied voice
(Puppet stage. Large kitty condo on the left. Large Christmas tree on the right. Screen behind shows living room with window. Aaron and Abby are poking their heads out of different levels of the kitty condo.)
Mommy: Okay, sweetikins, I’m on my way. Be good.
(Sound of closing door and start of car engine. Abby rushes to window)
Abby: I’ve got lookout. Aaron, why does she always say that: “Be good.”
Aaron: Beats me. Is she gone yet, Abby?
Abby: Wait for it. Okay, she’s backing out. Ooh, there goes that poor bush again….On the road….And she’s off. Let’s play tag.
Aaron: Are you kidding, with what’s waiting for us over there? Come on.
Abby: I don’t think we should….
(Aaron crosses puppet stage with Abby right behind him.)
Aaron: Our very own tree.
Abby: I don’t know, Aaron. Mommy got kinda sore when we got near it before. Locked us up in the bedroom. Maybe we shouldn’t be messing around.
Aaron: Right, she locked us in the bedroom, so we wouldn’t mess with the Christmas tree. Well, are we locked in the bedroom now? No, so that must mean she wants us to have it.
Abby: But this morning. I started getting close and she said that weird word, “No.”
Aaron: I never could figure out what that means.
Abby: Me neither, but then she used the squirt bottle. And you know what that means.
Both: Brrrh!
Aaron: But have you notice the squirt bottle never works unless she’s actually standing next to it. I think it’s safe to go near the tree.
Abby: It does have an awful lot of toys.
Aaron: And she likes us to have toys. Look at all the mice and tinkle bells she throws all over the floor.
Abby: I guess she won’t mind if we take one.
(She bats a Christmas ball from a bottom limb. It breaks.)
Abby: They never seem to last that long….Think she’d mind if I had another?
Aaron: Go for it. (looking up) Know which one I’m going to get?
Abby: The pointy one at the top?
Aaron: Yes, the big sparkly thing.
Abby: Aaron, you can’t climb all the way up there.
Aaron: Why not? I did it before.
Abby: I don’t think Mommy wants you to….
Aaron: Oh, come on, it’ll make her laugh. Here, I’ll show you.
(Aaron runs off the stage. He returns batting a cell phone across the floor)
Abby: Uh oh, Mommy forgot her talky thing.
Aaron: That’s because she wanted us to have it. Anyway, I’ve seen her do this a million times. You push this color thingie, and see? That’s us.
Abby: What are we doing in there?
Aaron: They’re pictures. You push on the side and you get to see all the pictures she took of us. See, that’s us lying on the bed, and on top of the kitty condo, and that’s you in the laundry basket half buried under her underpants, more lying in bed, lying on floor, bed, bed….Why does she take so many pictures of us when we’re sleeping?
Abby: I think that’s when we’re being good. That must be what it means when she says it all the time. “Be good” means “Take a nap.” Oh look, the toilet paper. I still remember that day. I got the longest unbroken piece, all the way out to the kitchen.
Aaron: Yeah, yeah. It’s got to be in here somewhere. Aah, here it is.
Abby: What?
Aaron: That’s me, sitting at the top of last year’s tree. I’d knocked off a gazillion thingies, and I’m just sitting up there like I’m king of the jungle, and did she get mad? No, she said, “You are so cute!” Then she took out the talky thing and took pictures. So, if she catches me today, it will be the same thing.
Abby: But Aaron, look at the picture, the big ears and the big eyes. We were kittens back then. We could actually fit up there. But now….
Aaron: Just what are you saying, Abby?
Abby: Aaron, how many cases of Fancy Feast have you gone through in the past year? Granted, some of it went into the litter box, but a lot of it stuck. You’re not a cute little kitten anymore.
Aaron: Oh, don’t be a spoilsport. I’ll race you.
(Aaron springs into the tree. Abby resists for all of two seconds and then goes up after him. There is a fierce rustling and shaking of the tree and then two high-pitched squeaks as the tree topples over. More sound effects of some ornaments breaking and others clattering over the floor, and one sickening crunch. There is a moment of frozen silence.)
Mommy: Oh, stinkerdoodles, I’m home. Where are you two?
Abby: We’re dead.
Aaron: It’ll be okay. Just roll over on your back. She always loves it. Her face scrunches up.
Abby: I don’t think that’s going to work this time.
Aaron: Sure it will. Come on, just assume the position. Trust me. This will be just another photo-op.
Abby: I don’t think she’ll be taking pictures. You see that thing with the cracks all across the top and the pieces sticking out of it.
Aaron: Oh, pretty.
Abby: That’s the talky thing.
Aaron: Oops.