Quick note here: this is NOT the nursery rhyme! This is the 1995 play by Jane Martin that is being parodied by me, and as such is not really geared towards kids. You'll catch on.
Jack and Jill and Just What The Hell IS This?
A Shawnigan Players Parody
A library. Jill is seated, reading The Bell Jar in "Oh, What-an-important-book-I'm-reading" sized print. Jack hesitantly enters opposite stage.
Jill immediately maces him.
Jack: Agh! Agh!
Jill continues to mace him for another 15 seconds. Then she steps back and considers Jack.
Jill: That's hot.
Jack is standing at a window in Jill's apartment. He has red, swollen eyes.
Jack: Nice view, now that I can see it.
Jill: I have scotch! And vodka!
Jack: Oh! I, uh...
Jill: And pot!
Jack: Well, that sounds -
Jill: And condoms!
Jack: Um... great, I guess?
Jill: And rubber gloves! And duct tape! And poppers!
Jack: Could we...?
Jill: Unless you don't want to?!? (Jill starts to reach under the table)
Because in that case...
Jack: No! No, I want to. I think. (Jack turns and dramatically looks out window, blinking heavily)
It's just that -
Jill: Goody! So do you... um... Can we talk a little bit about pegging?
Jack: Jill, too much structure and I -
Jill: I wouldn't call a cage a 'structure', really.
Jack: My turn, my turn.
Jill: That's the point, yes.
Jack: Close your eyes.
Jill: The door locks from the inside, you know.
Jill: My eyes are closed.
Jack: Sometimes, there's this... issue... I have, with being able to... uh...
Jill: Gettin' it up?
Jack: A bit blunt, but yeah. Only sometimes, though!
Jill: (smiles) That won't be a problem.
Jack: Yeah, but later...
Jill: (Pulls ball gag from under table)
We'll talk. Later.
Kitchen table in his apartment.
Jack: If this was a negotiation -
Jill: One of us would end up getting hurt again.
Jack: A more sensible negotiation -
Jill: I told you 'Peloponnesian' was a lousy safeword...
Jill: That's a little better, but not much.
Jack: I work in images, where is image everything?
Jill: I could try to break into movies...
Jack: I'll give it to you straight.
Jill: But you can make more money in... Oh, right.
Jack: You've maxed out. Managing an office for that strangely musical orthopedic surgeon -
Jill: He's a bit weird, but he's got a lovely shrine to his mother!
Jack: You've gone over his books, though: he's using WAY more gas than he should.
Jill: Added benefit - he can never tell when I bring some home.
Jack: Okay, point, valid point, but -
Jill: Flip you for it.
Jack: Will you stick to the -
Jill: Heads or tails?
Jack: Is everything sex with you?
Jack: Well, no. But this is important!
Jill: So convince me.
Jack: You are an implacable hard ass.
Jill: Broken two paddles so far.
Jack: Marry me.
Jack, after a night of revelry and pontification, knocks on a door mid-stage. Jill, off-stage, replies.
Jill: Who is it?
Jack: It's me, Jack.
Jill: You can't come in!
Jack: (Jack sits, dispirited, leaning against the door)
I can't get married.
Jill runs to the door in her wedding dress, opening it as Jack falls to the ground.
Jill: I see.
Jack: I can't do it. I'm a horrible person, and - (Jill drops her wedding dress to the ground)
Beach. Jack and Jill lie side-by-side on towels. They look displeased and on occasion shift uncomfortably. Jack kicks one leg out and shakes it. They're still. Jill then arches her back and winces, twisting slightly, and settles back down.
Jack: Sex on a beach.
Jack: Never again.
Their apartment. Jill is seated, Jack enters.
Jack: Long day at work. Whew! Long day. You?
Jill: I'm on the pill again.
Jack: Oh, thank God!
Scene Six, revised
Jill is now vacuuming drapes with a hand-held vacuum, in case humans do that sort of thing. Jack enters with note in hand.
Jack: What is this?
Jill: Paper. In this case, fibers mashed with a chemical agent to break them down, then bleached and bonded into a cohesive sheet appropriate for writing on.
Jack: And the note on it?
Jill: I was doodling, Jack.
Jack: Is it about going bowling again? With your co-workers?
Jill: We're just blowing -
Jack: Marty Indecipherable? With hearts?
Jill: Not Marty yet, no. And it's bowling.
Jack: Well, I don't like it one little bit. Do you hear me clearly?
Jill: First time I've heard THAT!
Jill is beside table with dishes piled on it. Jack enters, dodging plate thrown by Jill.
Jack: I think the Mikasa 'Swirl White' pattern is mine.
Jill: (Throwing dish set at him)
Jack: So, can we talk about me for a minute, here?
Jill throws table at Jack. Clouds of Plaster of Paris fill theatre. Audience exits, coughing.
Jack: (unable to see Jill)
Jill: (emerges from billowing clouds like a ninja)
Stage is dark, with a bed barely seen. Jill wakes up violently, smacking Jack in the face.
Jack: Not the face!
Jill: What? Who? What?
Jill turns on her light, revealing herself and Jack.
Jack: Ow, my nose.
Jill: Still not a good safeword.
Jack: Well, it's not broken.
Jill: I have no idea who you are.
Jack: Where am I?
Jill: We'll get to that. Deniability seems key right now.
Jack: Jill? Is that you?
Jill: ...You've got to be kidding me.
Jack: It is! Yay!
Jill: (muttering to herself)
You go to ONE 1970s throwback key party in this town...
Jack: I knew you liked me!
Jill: Yeah. Sure. Bits of you, any way. Maybe not your nose so much right now.
Jack: Does this mean we're back together?
Jill: In your dreams.
Jack turns off his light and lies down.
Jill: You've gotta be kidding me.
Jack: Come on, it was cute!
Jill: No, it wasn't.
Jack: It was. For a minute there.
Jack: Thirty seconds.
Jill: When I say 'no'...
Jack: (suddenly turns doe-eyed)
Jill: I am getting out of this bed.
Director (off stage): Underwear? Seriously? Maaannn...
Jack: What he said.
Jill: Jack, when two people were... what we were...
Jill: No, what we were. The relationship.
Jack: Oh, right!
Jill: Not to say this wasn't fun...
Jack: Darned tootin'!
Jill: It's time for you to go.
Jack: This is our longest scene!
Jill: You flatter yourself. Git.
Jack: Aww! How about one for the road?
Jill: Well, okay. But no hands!
Jack: No hands.
Jill: For auld lang's ayne.
Jack: For auld lang's ayne.
She climbs back into bed and turns off the light.
Jack: This is better. Much, much better. (pause)
What are you doing?
Jill's voice is muffled, but it sounds like she says "shut up, I'm busy".
An alarm goes off, and lights rise as Jill exits stage. Jack slowly comes to his senses, gets out of bed and gets dressed.
Director (off stage): Him, too? Where's the commitment, for crying out loud? I ask you!
Audience: What he said.
Jack: So, I, uh... California. Just did a big image collage for a big time release. Spelling Films. "Rumpelstiltskin." Going to be huge this year. Massive.
Jack: Yeah. John Ducey, Tommy Blaze... Big, uh, stars. But none of them could fill the void left by you, y'know?
Jill re-enters in a business suit and gets herself ready for work.
Jack: The void. You know, the - Jill? - the void? Left by you?
Jill: Doin' my hair over here, Jack.
Jack: Wow. You'd normally be all over that double entendre as soon as I said it. What's different about you? Something's missing.
Jill: You're sweet, but that comes from later in the script. Bye!
She kisses him lightly, gives his groin a healthy squeeze, and exits.
Jack: Uh, Jill?
Jill: Goin' to work now, Jack!
Jill is jogging in a slightly uncomfortable but very fashionable running suit. Jack suddenly appears running beside her.
Jack: Wow. So you do this every day, huh?
She maces him immediately.
Jack: Agh! Agh!
Jill continues to mace Jack until the audience is weeping uncontrolably.
Jill: So maybe don't stalk people, dumbass! (She considers her handiwork, biting her lip.)
Mmm. Hey, Jack, can you dance?
Jill: (Pulls a card from her handbag, which she somehow has on her, and puts it beside him.)
See you tonight at nine, Hotel Gaulitier! SO hot...
Jill is in a dance hall, dressed in a standard evening gown. A generic Strauss waltz is playing. Jack enters in a leather jacket, peaked hat, and assless chaps.
Jack: I think I got the address wrong...
Jill: Rob Halford! You came!
Jack: How long until they invent Google Maps?
Jill: Well, this IS a fundraiser... Pretty sure you can get a bidding war started on the floor here.
Jack: Did you know which card you gave me this afternoon?
Jill: Huh. Could have been anything.
Jack: It wasn't for here.
Jill: That explains why you're late.
Jack: So where can we meet?
Jill: I think there's a closet behind the bar -
Jack: In this life?
The music stops.
Jill: Hey, Jack: you're a nice guy with intereting sartorial tastes and lively plaything; but that doesn't mean you're a keeper, you know?
Jack: Dumb orchestra.
Jill: I've got other priorities right now, and as fun as you are my own life has to take precedence.
Jack: Who stops right in the middle of a song?
Jill: It's really important to me that I take the time to find where I am. Jack stomps into the orchestra pit (off stage)
It's a matter of overcompensating, maybe, for my earlier life where I not only didn't know where I was, but didn't know to look.
Jack: (off stage)
Kick out the jams, motherfuckers!
Jill: And now I'm in a place that I... well, maybe it's not ideal, but I just have to be here a while before I can find a new balance, and I just don't think that includes anyone else right now.
The dulcet tones of The Forgotten Rebel's "Fuck Me Dead" start up. Jack returns.
Jill: I hope you understand.
Jack: WOOOOOO!!! MOSH PIIIIIIT!!!
Jack hurls himself into the audience with great vigour.
Jill: Okay, but just one more night.
Jill hurls herself into audience.
Lights up on a toilet stall later that night. Jill's outside while Jack's inside in some distress.
Jill: Sorry, I didn't think anybody used horse any more! (The sounds of vomiting come from inside the stall)
Seriously, I hadn't even heard of people inhaling it even back in the day... I wouldn't have given you any because I know opiates make you nauseous.
Jack: Aww, you rememberhuurkoffkoffack!
Jill: Of course I remembered, silly! Back when I contemplated killing you I was trying to figure out which poisons would be most likely to stay down.
Jill: I changed my mind.
Jack: About us? Oh, happy dauuurk!
Jill: No, no: not about us. Just about whether I should kill you or not. I decided not to.
Jack: Does that mean we...?
Jack: Fuck youuuurgh!
Jill: But, Jack!
Jack: Oh, God, what was that? Seriously, fuck right off and let me die here.
Jill: But I -
Jack: Piss off.
Jill sadly leaves the stage to the sound of dry heaves.
Jack and Jill are walking towards each other in a downpour (both holding umbrellas). Jill looks up as the cross.
Jill: Is that... Jack?
Jack: What? Oh.
Jack runs off stage, screaming.
Jack: KEEP AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!
Jill: So HOT...
Jack is sitting at a table in a library, reading a book of nursery rhymes. Jill enters opposite.
Jack: I'm armed.
Jill: So, I thought it would be cool if I stalked you for a while and finally tracked you down to here, which is pretty cool. Reading and stuff.
Jack: No. Nope. Go away.
Jill: And I thought it would be really great if we got back together.
Jack: You're insane.
Jill: Because I really miss you and I'm kinda lonely now.
Jack: Keep away from me. We're never getting back together, ever.
Jill: You're sure?
Jack: Hell, yes.
Jill: Well, okay.
Jack watches Jill leave, then sighs with relief and goes back to reading his book. Jill tiptoes back on stage and crawls under the table.
Jack: Changed my mind! We can get back together!
Jill: (muffled) Hooray!