or your reference
"I can't stay here any longer! I'm sorry but it's too creepy...and weird things keep happening!" Said EpicFork. She flew out the door. With her went Your Hihiness and Panties.
SFG shrugged. "I don't want to leave, but it's past my bedtime. So bye" She got her coat and walked out the door. Jon looked at her sadly.
Meanwhile, Alica was drying herself off with a towel.
"Now my guests," said Emily, "We go to the dining room. Good food awaits us."
"What about Reason?" Asked Ace.
"He'll turn up eventually" said Emily.
They all shrugged and went into the dining room.
You'll find your names beside your places. Please be seated.
But these don't have our real names!
They have your code names, which you will be using for the rest of the night.
The guests, except for Mustard, find their places and sit.
(indicating the head of the table)
Is this place for Emily?
Oh, indeed, no, sir. It's for a special guest.
And what exactly do you do?
I buttle, sir.
Which means what?
The butler is head of the kitchen and dining room.
I keep everything . . . tidy. That's all.
Mustard attempts to continue but is interrupted by Mrs. Peacock.
Well, what's all this about, butler; this dinner party?
"Ours is not to reason why . . . Ours is but to do and die"
Merely quoting, sir, from Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
(now seated next to Miss Scarlet)
Hm. I prefer Kipling, myself.
"The female of the species is more deadly than the male."
You like Kipling, Miss Scarlet?
Sure, I'll eat anything.
Candalusia enters carrying a tray.
Sharks' Fin Soup, Madame.
So is this for our host
No, sir. For the seventh guest, Emily.
I thought Emily was our host?
The guests all concur.
So who is our host, fishy??
Well, I want to start, while it's still hot.
Oh, now shouldn't we wait for the other guest?
I will keep somesing warm for eem.
Prof. Plum slurps soup from his spoon.
Mrs. White disapproves, then does the same.
Mustard, Scarlet, and Green stare at them, spoons poised near mouths.
They do it again.
Well, someone's got to break the ice, and it might as well be me.
I mean, I'm used to being a hostess; it's part of my husband's work,
and it's always difficult when a group of new friends meet together
for the first time to get acquainted, so I'm perfectly prepared to start
the ball rolling . . . I mean, I have absolutely no idea what we're doing
here, or what I'm doing here, or what this place is about, but I am
determined to enjoy myself and I'm very intrigued and oh, my, this
soup's delicious isn't it?
Everyone sits bewildered.
You say you are used to being a hostess as part of your husband's work?
Yes, it's an integral part of your life when you are the wife of a. . .
oh, but then I forgot we're not supposed to say who we really are,
though heavens to Betsy, I don't know why.
I know who you are.
Aren't you going to tell us?
(removes glasses nervously)
How do you know who I am?
I work in Washington, too.
Oh, so you're a politician's wife.
Yes, I-I am.
Well, come on, then. Who's your husband?
Suddenly, Fishy opens the door from the kitchen.
(to Mrs. White)
So, what does your husband do?
(almost cutting her off)
Well, he . . . just . . . lies around on his back all day.
Sounds like hard work to me.
Yvette, in the kitchen, opens the partition suddenly.
The noise coincides with a crash of thunder.
Mr. Green, jumpy as ever, spills his drink again, this time on Miss Scarlet.
I'm . . . sorry. I'm afraid I'm a little accident-prone.
He starts to wipe off her upper chest.
Yvette starts serving food.
The guests start eating.
Mmm! This is one of my favorite recipes!
I know, madam.
So, what do you do in Washington, D.C., Mr. Green?
Come on, what do you do? I mean, how are we to get
acquainted if we don't say anything about ourselves?
Perhaps he doesn't want to get acquainted with you.
Well, I'm sure I don't know, but if I wasn't trying to keep the conversation
going, then we would just be sitting here in an embarrassed silence.
Are you afraid of silence, Mrs. Peacock?
Yes! What? No, why?
Oh, it just seems to me that you seem to suffer from
what we call pressure of speech.
"We"? Who's "we"? Are you a shrink?
I do know a little bit about psychological medicine, yes.
Are you a doctor?
I am, but I don't practice.
Practice makes perfect. Ha. I think most men need a little
practice, don't you, Mrs. Peacock?
Mrs. Peacock shrugs, very uncomfortable.
So what do you do, Professor?
I work for UNO, the United Nations Organization.
Another politician. Jesus!
No, I work for a branch of UNO. W.H.O., the World Health Organization.
Well, what is your area of special concern?
What about you, Mustard? Are you a colonel?
I am, sir.
You're not going to mention the coincidence that you also live in
How did you know that? Have we met before?
I've certainly seen you before. Although you may not have seen me.
So, Miss Scarlet, does this mean that you live in Washington, too?
Does anyone here not live in Washington, D.C.?
Yes, but you work for the United Nations.
That's a government job. And the rest of us all live in a government town.
Anyone here not earn their living from the government in one way or another?
Mustard stands suddenly.
(angrily, to Fishy)
Wadsworth, where's our host, and why have we been brought here?