Twitterpated: A short play
Lula: a young woman
Scene: Living room, two doors, one window. Ma sits in profile on a floral love seat, absorbed in her laptop. Pa sits in a worn armchair, fiddling with his Kindle.
Ma: (sighs) I sure wish I could find that recipe for possum jelly. Sally Ann had it served at her funeral and her girl won’t give up the recipe.
Pa: It tasted awful, anyway. Don’t know why you worry about topping her. She’s dead. (Twists the Kindle this way and that)
Ma: I’ll just google something else if that’s the way you feel.
Pa: Sure, sure. (smacks the Kindle) Can’t see a thing in this light.
Ma: You should have downloaded the audiobook from iTunes.
Pa: Unintelligible grousing.
Lula: (bursts into the room, staring at her iPhone) Ma! Pa! I just got tweeted!
Pa: Tweeted? Who tweeted you? Ma, get my 12-gauge.
Ma: You sold that 12-gauge to buy a Coleco.
Pa: Well, get me something. Nobody’s tweeting my daughter and getting away with it.
Lula: (leans forward over the back of the sofa so her head is level with her mother’s) Look, Ma. He tweeted me. Me! Personally!
Ma: Who is this man?
Lula: (rapturously) Stephen Fry. And I only had to tweet him 116 times to get tweeted back.
Pa: That does it. In my day, we didn’t so much as email a girl without a 3-way conference call with her parents. Who’s this Stephen Fry, anyway?
Lula: (moans) He’s a...he’s just...he’s everything!
Ma: You tweeted this man 116 times?
Lula: Oh, at least.
Pa: He’s not getting away with this. Any man thinks he’s tweeting my daughter and getting off scot-free. Where is he?
Ma & Pa: Mexico!
Lula: Oh, yes, He can tweet me anywhere.
Pa: (again) That does it. This Stephen Fry’s got another think coming if he...
Lula: (looking at her phone) Oh, no!
Ma: What is it, girl?
Lula: He’s on a boat. He won’t be able to tweet for days.
Pa: Tweet and run. Well, that does it. Ma, call the police.
Ma: If he’s run off to Mexico we’ll never find him.
Lula (crying) Six days! I can’t go six days without being tweeted!
Ma: (typing furiously on her laptop) Wait a minute. She’s not the only one he’s done wrong. Says here he’s got 260,300 on a string. And he says he can’t tweet anyone for days.
Pa: What’s he got to do? Rest up after tweeting all those women?
Ma: Men, too.
Lula: (sobs uncontrollably)
Ma: (still typing) This Stephen Fry’s got a Web site...and a forum...what’s this Fry-a-Day...jumpin’ jiminy...a wetsuit... (Ma stares at the screen)
Pa: Ma, what’s wrong/
Ma: I never seen such a man.
Ma: He’s (types wildly)...so tall...and has blue eyes...
Ma: Don’t call me Ma. Call me...HotsyTot.
Pa: But Ma...
Ma: Don’t bother me. I’m tweeting Stephen!
Ma: I’m his 260,301st follower.
Pa: Ma! Ma!