(Downstage right, a woman typing at a laptop with the words displayed on a screen for the audience to read. Her back is to the audience. Downstage left, a second woman (or man), the Typist enters on the keyboard what the narrator speaks.)
Narrator: I’d spent most of my life married to an assortment of communists, alcoholics, and mental patients who made interesting, but reliable husbands. Maybe that’s all that a person can hope for. But at age 48, I resolved to change my predilection for the unconventional and recalibrate my longing for something different. But what else could there be? Perhaps something shiny, but up close, an empty soda can.
Typist: Got it. Keep going. Keep going.
Narrator: To spend a lifetime making lists: things to buy, get fixed, a succession of check marks, yet as soon as one list is finished, another takes its place. I wanted to know what it was to love another person, to gain a sense of peace that moves through each day.
Typist: I typed a query into the browser window, and got back millions of hits. Then I saw a Pop-Up, an advertisement for “The Love Boat.” It sounded hokey, but I had to start somewhere, entered the Narrator’s credit card number with an expiration date and signed up. We got admission to an online university. Clicked at the bottom of the screen for a password.
(Voice of Pop-up as typist sites in front of her laptop as she (or he) and the Narrator both listen.)
Pop-Up: Welcome! By posing a question about love, you’ve demonstrated a superior ability to move into challenging situations. Congratulations!
(Typist fills out an online form and makes a selection. Rubber Ducky raft appears on the screen. A life-size raft appears stage right. Typist gets in.)
Typist: But wait. I forgot my laptop! (She tries to get out.) I need to take it everywhere. Stop. I’m the Typist. I need a laptop!
Pop-Up: Just listen to yourself!
Typist: Where did you come from?
Pop-Up: Same place that you did.
Typist: I didn’t see you get in.
Pop-Up: (Steps out and then back into the boat.) See me now?
Typist: I’m not stupid. But where’s my laptop?
Pop-Up: We provide everything. It’s part of the package.
Typist: Not so sure. My confidence level is not high.
Pop-Up: (Grabs Typist.) Watch out!
Typist: What?
Pop-Up: There! (A wave of water washes across the boat.) Again! (Another wave hits as they crouch together.)
Typist: What is it?
Pop-Up: Her.
Typist: Her?
Pop-Up: You know. (whispers) The chatty one.
Typist: Oh, you mean the Narrator?
Pop-Up: Yes. That one.
Typist: Don’t worry.
Pop-Up: Why not?
Typist: I always know what she’s thinking. Where’d she go?
Pop Up: What if I told you she was splashing around? Watch out! This one’s got soap! (Typist and Pop-Up are hit with mounds of soap suds.)
Typist: Where are the towels? What kind of resort is this? (Offstage—someone throws towels into the love boat.) Thank you. At least someone is listening. (Continues) Usually she goes to the kitchen to get a soda or a coffee and comes right back. Without her, I don’t know what to do.
Pop-Up: What a sad case. Go ahead. Give the ducky a hug.
Typist: What ducky?
Pop-Up: The one we’re sitting in. (Points to the ducky’s head.) Go ahead. Try it.
(Waves push Typist against the Rubber Ducky’s head that emits a loud squeak. Both the Typist and Pop Up giggle. In the distance, a song is heard. A woman is singing and splashing.)
Typist: Let’s do it again. (Typist gives the Rubber Ducky another squeak.)
Pop-Up: What?
Typist: She’s in my ear. I hear her talking.
Narrator: (Appears in boat.) A different sensation, everything rocking, flowing together. Wonderful! Never felt anything like it. But I’m afraid that I’ll make the same mistake, the same pitter-patter.
Typist: I thought you were enjoying yourself.
Narrator: Who told you that?
Pop-Up: Every word, my good friends, is magical. Why? A single word can change a single response. (Pop-up disappears.)
Typist: Words go through me, a roller-coaster ride and come through my fingertips. Data streaming, screaming. At the end of a day, I just want to fall asleep.
Narrator: Oooh! Here’s something. (Pushes a switch inside the Rubber Ducky that turns from yellow to purple.) Oh, ducky, I had no idea.
Typist: What?
Narrator: A little bit to the right. To the left.
Typist: I’m missing something.
Narrator: Feathers! Oh yes! That’s wonderful. Tickles!
Typist: I don’t feel anything!
Narrator: Yes, more, please! Please!
Pop-Up: (with laptop and to Typist) Until we locate yours, I found another laptop. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. It’s probably hiding under a pile of towels. Don’t worry. We’re insured to the max.
Typist: (Runs toward Pop-Up and grabs the laptop away and begins typing. (Pop-Up fades.)
Narrator: (Whispers to the Rubber Ducky) You know what I’d like you to do for me?
Typist: Louder! I can’t hear.
Narrator: (continues to whisper. Typist types “whispers.”) What’s that? Of course. Be glad to. Mind? You’ve got to be kidding! After everything you’ve given me? (She grabs the Rubber Ducky’s head and neck and gives it several squeaks.)
Typist & Narrator:
Oh, Yes, Rubber Ducky. Rubber Ducky. Oh yes.