(A woman sits center stage, wearing a black knit hat. A business-type man enters, obviously looking for someone. Crosses to woman, recognizes a signal, sits next to her.)

MR. MEAD: (a bit stiffly) That is a beautiful hat.

MISS BEMSLEY: Thank you. I knitted it myself.

MEAD: (as if picking up on verbal cue) With red thread?

BEMSLEY: Yes. And silver and purple.

MEAD: (having found his connection) Ah... you must be Miss Bemsley.

BEMSLEY: And you are Mr. Mead. Are you acquainted with your mission?

MEAD: Yes, but they aren't (Indicates audience).

BEMSLEY: All right. (Turns to audience) Mr. Mead is a spy for the British government. We have sent him here, to the United States, to gather top secret information about... computer maintenance.

MEAD: We hope to get the British economy back on its feet.

BEMSLEY: So, we're sending Mr. Mead to investigate the new technological breakthroughs.

LIGHTING TECHNICIAN : (from offstage) Why don't you just send him to Japan?

BEMSLEY: Because he doesn't look bloody Japanese! How's he supposed to blend in? Stupid lighting technician. Who needs him, anyway?

(The stage goes dark.)

LIGHTING TECHNICIAN : What was that?

BEMSLEY: Sorry. I had to say it... It was in the script.

LIGHTING TECHNICIAN : Where? We didn't rehearse that!

BEMSLEY: Well, where does it say you're supposed to start shouting about Japan?

LIGHTING TECHNICIAN : I was making a useful commentary.

BEMSLEY: About as useful as another goddamn presidential poll.

(The remainder of the room goes dark.)

(Enter Stage Manager)

SM: (Shining light in Bemsley's face) You. What's going on here? (Indicates wings with flashlight.)

BEMSLEY: He started shouting all kinds of things that weren't in the script. And then he turned the lights off.

SM: (To wings) Turn the lights back on.

LIGHTING TECHNICIAN : Not until she leaves.

SM: (Points flashlight at Bemsley) Leave.

BEMSLEY: Who's going to do my part if I leave?

MEAD: She has a point there.

SM: (Shines light on Mead) Who are you?

MEAD: Mr. Mead. Would you please stop doing that?

SM: Oh, sorry. (Directs light towards wings) Who's going to play Miss Bemsley?

LIGHTING TECHNICIAN: Why don't you do it? You have the script.

SM: Right. (Indicates Bemsley) Get off.

(Bemsley exits in a huff.)

(Lights come back on.)

SM: (to Mead) Where were you?

MEAD: She'd just said the bit about technological breakthroughs. (Points to a page on Stage Manager's script) We're right there.

SM: Okay. Here goes. (Speaks woodenly, as if unaccustomed to acting) You're going to have to learn to talk like an American, Mr. Mead. Say "tomaytoes" instead of "tomahtoes." Say "yeah" a lot and use "pretty" instead of "rather" or "quite." And spell potato with an "e."

MEAD: All right.

SM: That's all I have time for. I have to get the pantomime cow ready for its entrance in the next skit. You can do the rest on your own. (Exits) By the way, how did I do?

MEAD: Well, at least we had lights. Hmmm... (Calling to wings) Robert! I'm going to skip the rest of Miss Bemsley's lines. Do you mind if I just give you your cue?

ROBERT: No, go ahead.

MEAD: (Follows an invisible person with his eyes as she stands up and exits.) I'll be sure to do that. Good-bye, Miss Bemsley! (Waits for Robert, who doesn't appear.) I said, good-bye, Miss Bemsley! (Still no Robert.) Good-bye, Miss Bemsley!!!!

ROBERT: That's not it. You gave me the wrong cue.

MEAD: Oh, sorry. I'll begin again... And twenty kilos of ripe strawberries.

(Robert enters, swaggering and a bit bowlegged)

ROBERT: (in Southern drawl) Hi, y'all. Mind if I sit down here?

MEAD: Well, no...

ROBERT: This here's some pretty fine weather we've havin'.

MEAD: Well, actually it's rather... pretty cold.

ROBERT: Good for the beans, though. Right?

MEAD: Um... uh... well... uh...

ROBERT: You're from New York, aren't ya? I can tell by yer accent.

MEAD: Yes... yeah. I'm from New York.

ROBERT: My name's Eggbert. Eggbert Eldridge. (Pause) So, what's yer favorite vegetable?

MEAD: Well, I don't believe I have one.

ROBERT: C'mon! You're a'kiddin' me! Everyone's got a favorite vegetable... especially in these here parts.

MEAD: (Thinks and then bursts out with a bright idea.) Tomahtoes!!! Uh... I mean, tomaytoes!!!

ROBERT: Mine, too!!!

MEAD: Say, do you happen to know where the nearest computer company research and development lab is... in these here parts?

ROBERT: Sure. I run it.

MEAD: WHAT?!?

ROBERT: I am sole proprietor, director, president and executive council fer the most parful computer company in the west.

MEAD: (amazed) Really?

ROBERT: (cracking up over his great joke) Nope! I was joking! ... I'm only the president. Nobody could hold all those positions by theirselves!!!

MEAD: Is there any chance that I can see your company?

ROBERT: Nope. Sorry.

MEAD: Well, why on earth not?

ROBERT: Mostly because of the huge fire we had last year. By god, I deserve better than this.

MEAD: I can surely sympathize...

ROBERT: I mean, why couldn't I have been the spy? I always have to play the dumb ones, and YOU always get to play a sophisticated intellectual type.

(Robert exits)

MEAD: Robert, come back here!

ROBERT: Well, if you're so great why don't you do it yourself?

(Mead sits for a few seconds, depressed. Then he reads the script as he switches from place to place, imitating the characters)

MEAD: (as Eggbert) Yep. A fire sure burned our place down. (as Mead) Don't you know of any other computer companies? (as Eggbert) Nope. They all burned down, too. (as Mead) Well, that's a shame. (as Eggbert) Yep.

(Gets frustrated and throws script down.) Oh, the hell with it. I'm going to go have a nice, hot bath. (Exits, then pokes head back in.) Oh, applaud, you idiots!