#19: TWO BROKEN FUSES

(Lights up. 2008. A Manhattan office place. Cubicles, chairs, and people.)

CO-WORKER: I was playing Jeopardy before online with my mom at work - I mean she's at home, but I'm at work - obviously - so we're playing Jeopardy 'cos what else would I be doing here right, you know? Right?
PLAYWRIGHT: Right, I know...
CO-WORKER: And the question or - excuse me the "Answer" - was all about um, like on what day do Americans flock to Betsy Ross' house - and I was like OH MY GOD, I don't know! But I thought you would. I just thought it was weird after we were just like talking about your weird plays -
PLAYWRIGHT: Flag Day.
CO-WORKER: Oh My God! How did you know that?
PLAYWRIGHT: Lucky guess, I guess.

(The CO-WORKER begins her inept attempt to fix a paper jam at the printer.)

CO-WORKER: So, the play-a-day thing. She sewed the flag. We get it!
PLAYWRIGHT: Yeah, but we know nothing else about her.
CO-WORKER: Good, who cares. So what.
PLAYWRIGHT: So I can pretty much make her do anything.
CO-WORKER: You're officially weird. Isn't this every day thing going to get really old like really fast? Do it like once a month. Max.
PLAYWRIGHT: I can do it.

CO-WORKER: AH! This stupid printer always breaks! "Fuser Error"? What the F is the fuser?
PLAYWRIGHT: I'll Google it. (Pause.) Okay. Done. It's a "pair of heated rollers". In the printer.
CO-WORKER: Obviously. It's freakin'crazy we can't even get a printer that works here. It's embarrassing.

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: I'll fix it.
PLAYWRIGHT: (to the CO-WORKER) I didn't know you could fix a fuser.
CO-WORKER: Um, I didn't say I could smart ass. She did.

(The CO-WORKER points to where the MYSTERIOUS VOICE came from. There stands BETSY with a toolbelt. She pulls out a screwdriver. The PLAYWRIGHT is shell-shocked; the CO-WORKER views her to be nothing out of the ordinary.)

BETSY: (with unjustified ominous intent) That's right. I can fix any fuser.
PLAYWRIGHT: (secretly) This is against the rules. You can't just show up like this. We have an arrangement.

BETSY: Had my dear friend. Had.
CO-WORKER: OMG, you're the new tech girl right? When you're done here could you like pop by my desk. Whenever I run like lots of things, um, like Facebook and MySpace and then like open up a new tab on Firefox: it freezes.
BETSY: Surely. I'll be right there.. (searching for her name) Bla-Marrr-Nanc-Cath-Ju-Ja-Jah?
CO-WORKER: Jennifer... it's um, just Jennifer.
BETSY: Right. So it is. So it is. I'm just Betsy.
CO-WORKER: Just like his lame ass plays. Betsy. Tell her all about 'em Shakespeare.

(The CO-WORKER walks back to her desk. BETSY raises her screwdriver as if to attack. The PLAYWRIGHT disarms her.)

PLAYWRIGHT: I think it's best if you fix the fuser and leave.
BETSY: Lame ass plays, eh? That nine-to-fiver calling me lame. Is a lifetime of sewing lame, huh? Are these calloused hands that bled for our counry lame? Answer me that Jennifer!
PLAYWRIGHT: Breathe B, Breathe.
BETSY: Write me unlame words. Prove her wrong.
PLAYWRIGHT: The fuser B, the fuser.
BETSY: Prove me right.

PLAYWRIGHT: The printer, the fuser...

(BETSY lowers her safety goggles. She removes a bigger screwdriver and a mini-handsaw from her toolbelt. She - a product of the 18th century - examines the printer - a product of the 21st century. She feigns expertise and begins to "fix" the fuser with her tools. The PLAYWRIGHT can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.)

BLACKOUT