If You Give A Mouse A Cookie The license issued in connection with PYA perusal scripts is a limited license, and is issued for the sole purpose of reviewing the script for a potential future performance. All other rights regarding perusal scripts are expressly reserved by Plays for Young Audiences, including, but not limited to, the rights to distribute, perform, copy or alter scripts. This limited license does not convey any performance rights of any kind with this material. By accepting any perusal script(s), Licensee agrees to and is bound by these terms. Cast List The Boy The Mouse The Mouse’s Mirror Image The Time The Present Place The average kitchen of the average home This play is dedicated to my own “Little Mouse”- my daughter, L.R. who introduced me to the book. May reading always bring you the pleasure it does now. Act I If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 2 The stage is dark as the audience enters. As the house lights dim, we hear a voice. It is not a child’s voice, but has a childlike, innocent quality. There is, however, a great weariness to it. It is the voice of one who has been through a disaster, perhaps war…or an earthquake…or the like. We hear… BOY: (Voice over.) Thinking back, it all began so…simply. It was a day like any other, or so I thought. Mom has gone to my Aunt Rose’s house to bring her over a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Mom’d made them for the P.T.A. bake sale and semi-annual swap meet. It’s her special recipe with these huge chocolate chips and big ‘ole hunks of nuts. She puts oatmeal in ‘em, though. I guess she figures the nutritional stuff in oatmeal will balance out all the rest of the good things like chocolate and sugar she puts in. anyway, they’re really good. When she puts them in my lunch I can usually swap them for just about anything in the lunchroom. But I don’t. That’s how good they are. So, Mom tells me I can go with her or stay at home. Aunt Rose is ok, but she always asks the same questions, ‚How’s school? Are you studying hard? Have you got a girlfriend yet?‛ (Sighs.) You know. Aunt stuff. Now I had the brand new JUNGLEMAN, BEASTMASTER OF THE AMAZON comic. The July issue where he battles King Constrictor- Sovereign of the Snakes. Mom usually makes me go, but lately she can see I’m growing up and can manage everything find if she happens to go away for a few hours. I mean I can take care of myself. So politely I tell her… If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 3 Spotlight comes up on the BOY. He is played by an adult actor. He does not attempt to “act” like a child but he should give the impression of a ten year old boy, a la Tom Hanks in BIG. He wears blue jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of high top sneakers. (Reference the illustrations from the book.) His hair is long-ish and slightly disheveled. He holds a brown paper bag and has a bandana in his back pocket. He sits comfortably. Boy: ‚Naah. I’d rather stay home, if it’s ok. But tell Aunt Rose I love her.‛ (To audience.) If you don’t say that, next time you see Aunt Rose she’ll say stuff like ‚What’s the matter? Getting too old to tell you Aunt you love her?‛ and then she’ll give you an extra big hug and smoochie kiss to make up for it. So I always make sure to say ‚Be sure to tell Aunt Rose I love her.‛ It helps a little, I guess. So Mom says I can stay and she leaves me Aunt Rose’s number by the phone and she tells me all the usual stuff, about not opening the door for strangers and don’t tell people she’s not there- like I would!- Don’t make a mess. Let the answering machine take messages…Ya know. Mom stuff. She says I can stay in the backyard, my room or the kitchen. Then she took off. I went straight to the kitchen and got a bag of cookies, found a cool spot in the yard, made myself real comfortable and settles down with JUNGLEMAN. Yeah, I thought the world was just about perfect. And then…He came. We hear music signifying impending doom, like the theme for the shark in JAWS. In a light pink special, looking cute as he can be, we see… MOUSE: (The MOUSE is small, gray- brown in color [Reference the illustrations from the book.] and absolutely adorable. He wears blue coveralls and a If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 4 green backpack. He resembles, in attitude and behavior, Snuffles the Mouse from the Old Warner Brothers Cartoons. He is a bundle of energy, only barely contained and eager to talk…and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk…) Hi! I’m not from around here. Are you from around here? Where is here? Is this your house? My house is WAAAAAAAY away. Boy, I’m hungry. Are those cookies? My mom makes cookies. Hers are really good. Sometimes she makes them with little tiny pieces of cheese in them. Sometimes blue cheese, sometimes green cheese. The moon is made of green cheese. I’ve never been to the moon. (Beat.) Boy…I’m hungry. BOY: (To audience.) It seemed like the right thing to do. After all, he was just a tiny, hungry little mouse. I mean, wouldn’t you do the same? (To MOUSE.) Would you like a cookie? (Disaster theme sounds again.) MOUSE: (Crossing to take cookie from BOY.) Gee. Thanks. This is awfully nice of you. I sure am hungry and this cookie is just perfect…well…pretty perfect…sort of, almost perfect… BOY: What’s the matter? MOUSE: It’s just…Could I please have a glass of milk? Cookies are always better with milk. BOY: Sure, come on into the kitchen. The curtain opens to reveal a kitchen. The scale of the room though is such that the actor playing the Boy is scaled to the kitchen the way a child would be scaled in a normal kitchen. The mouse is extremely small in proportion. There is a refrigerator, a sink, several cabinets- upper and lower- If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 5 a broom closet, and all the trappings of the average American middle-class kitchen with the exception that the scale is larger than normal. The kitchen should start clean and tidy but as the mouse uses things the room becomes more and more cluttered and chaotic until it looks as though the room has been hit by a tornado, earthquake, or similar disaster. The BOY crosses to the refrigerator and opens it. The MOUSE removes his backpack. BOY: (Taking the milk carton out of the refrigerator.) I better check this. (He sniffs the milk suspiciously.) Mom’s not the best about throwing stuff out. We had some milk a couple of weeks ago; I swear when I put it on my cereal, it came out in clumps. Really gross. (He pours a glass with his back to the audience.) Here. (As he offers the glass to the MOUSE there is a light change and large *6’-7’+ glass of milk appears on stage [NOTE: There is a light change anytime the MOUSE gets an oversize prop]) MOUSE: Thanks. It sure looks great. (He attempts to drink from it. It is clearly too tall. He tries his tip-toes, tries to stick his tongue in, tries to shimmy up the sides, and tries to tip it- with near disastrous results.) Boy. I really appreciate this. My mom likes me to have plenty of milk. She says it makes my coat shiny and my whiskers extra quivery. Yep…this sure LOOKS great…I can’t wait…oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy… (Sighs.) Could you possibly have a straw? I hate to be a bother. My mom says never to be a bother when you can be a help. I could. At my house Mom lets me help a lot. Sometimes. (Pause.) Honest. BOY: No. It’s cool. I think we have some here somewhere. (He opens up one of the lower cabinets and starts to rummage through removing miscellaneous items as he does, all of them extra large in scale and If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 6 proportion.) Mom got some for when I was sick with the flu. She let me have all the 7-Up I wanted. She says it settles your stomach. I think it’s just one of those things moms do. (He finds what he’s looking for. ) I knew we’d still have them. Mom’s a real packrat. (Beat.) Oh. Sorry. The BOY passes a large straw to the MOUSE. The MOUSE takes it. He first takes it and attempts to balance it. He moves right as it goes left, he moves left as it leans right. It finally tumbles to the ground. The mouse tries to lift it as a weightlifter would a barbell. He settles himself, gets a grip and heaves it finally, high over his head, with knees buckling. He holds it there for a few seconds, and then it tips to the right, carrying the mouse with it, until his torso is bent parallel to the ground, with one leg off the ground. He tries running towards the glass with it, but pole vaults at the last moment, sending himself flying offstage. He reappears, dusting himself off. With new determination he grabs the straw, and heaves it into the glass. He bends down the end until it reaches his mouth. He drinks and the glass empties. He burps and slips contentedly onto the floor, leaning with his back against the now empty glass. MOUSE: That was SOOOOO good. My whiskers are quivering already! You don’t have whiskers. Why don’t you have whiskers? Some humans have whiskers. Does your mother have whiskers? Huh? Huh? BOY: I hope not! Who’d wanna kiss a mom with a mustache? MOUSE: OH NO! A mustache! I bet I’ve got a mustache on my mouth, a big old milk mustache, and I’m sitting here talking to you as if there was nothing wrong! My mom would kill me! ‚Where are you manners? Did I raise you to be a messy mouthed mouse?‛ Oh wow… (Stars to wipe his mouth on his arm. Stops himself.) May I have a napkin, please? I always use a napkin. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 7 BOY: (Lacking conviction.) So do I. (gets napkin from a holder on the counter.) Here you go. MOUSE: (The napkin is the size of a small towel to the mouse. He wipes his mouth, ears, face, the works. He even holds it by his butt, pulling it back and forth in a rumba movement, dancing a la Carmen Miranda with it.) Thank you. Did I get it all? I think I did. But maybe, I think I feel a little bit left over here. (He points to a hard place behind one ear.) BOY: You look fine. Hones- MOUSE: (Cutting him off.) A mirror! I need a mirror. Do you have a mirror? Is there a mirror in your house? My house has lots of mirrors. My sister likes to look at herself in the mirror. I think she loves herself. Do you love yourself? Do you have a mirror…please? BOY: Sure. Ok. Just relax, will ya? (To audience.) I was beginning to get just a little concerned. This was not you run of the mill, fuzzy, little mouse! (Beat.) But I got him a mirror anyway. (He brings on a 3 fold mirror. When he opens it, we see another actor, dressed exactly as the MOUSE, portraying the MOUSE’S reflection. He and the Mouse perform a variation on the old Marx Brothers’ mirror routine.) MOUSE: (Admiring self.) Perfect. This is exactly what I needed. I can see that my face is as clean as my toes… (He wiggles his toes, then his arms, legs, and finally hips. He makes faces. He grabs a toothpick and starts to dance a la Fred Astaire. He stops and realizes the reflection is just a bit off. He tries to trick it, turning fast, slow, jumping backwards and around. Reflection turns at the wrong speed. MOUSE almost catches it- double If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 8 takes back. Arms up, down, up, down up, down, down up- double take. Reflection changes when MOUSE’S back is turned, avoids being caught. Lean in, out, in, out, left right, left right, jump in and out, crazy wild dance. The Reflection just stops and waits impatiently for MOUSE to wind down. MOUSE slows down and reflection joins back in. mouse leans in and out then starts yelling) I knew it! Come here. Look at this. I was sure all along that something was wrong. Look. BOY: (To audience.) I didn’t see anything. And I looked hard. MOUSE: This hair. It’s too long. See? It sticks up WAAAAY higher than the others. BOY: Which hair? MOUSE: The long one. BOY: They all look the same. MOUSE: No. Look real close. BOY: (Bending way over.) They still all look the same. MOUSE: No. You need to get really close. (Jumping up and down.) See it? See it?! (He jumps up and the BOY is leaning down and knocks him backwards, then MOUSE bends over him.) See what I mean? BOY: (Dazed.) Yeah. So? MOUSE: So, may I please use a pair of your scissors, please? BOY: I don’t think you should play with scissors. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 9 MOUSE: I don’t want to play with scissors. That’s silly. You play with balls or strings or even pieces of old lint, but you don’t play with scissors. You cut your hair with them. Long hairs just like this one. So if I could just borrow a pair of little scissors… BOY: Gee. I haven’t used little scissors since I was in kindergarten. My mom has a tiny pair of nail scissors she uses when she gives herself a manicure. I don’t understand why she bothers. She puts polish on her fingers, colors like passion fruit pink and rutabaga red. Then she walks around like this. (Walks around on toes as if in high heels, waving fingers in the air and blowing on them. Stops and observes…) I think fingers look best in finger color. MOUSE: Right. Gray. BOY: (Take.) Whatever. Mom keeps her scissors in here somewhere. (He opens up the drawer and removes a pair of scissors.) Bingo! One pair of nail scissors! MOUSE: Thank you. I went to the barber last week. He must have missed this one. Mr. Mcphee always says to me…he’s our barber. I like him lots. He always says to me that little mice squirm just like little…he gives kids lollipops when he’s all done cutting their hair if they don’t squirm around, but he always gives me mine before he starts. He says it keeps my mouth busy so he can work. What do you think he means by that? Huh? Huh? BOY: I don’t know. (To audience.) but I’ve got a pretty good idea! If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 10 MOUSE: Now I’ll just snip this one here. Oops. No, this one over here. Wait. It wasn’t that one. It’s…THIS ONE! Nope. Missed it again. This, no, no. This. Here it is. Hold on. Hold on. GOTCHA! Rats. This is hard. No wonder mom has to pay Mr. Mcphee extra to cut my hairs! They’re tricky. (While this is happening, the MOUSE is snipping and clipping away. Hair starts to fall, first in a light snow, then in a blizzard until there is a pile of hair surrounding him on the stage. He should start slowly then build to a furious frenzy. At first he is tentative but he gradually grows more “creative” and outlandish in his cutting technique and movements until…) THERE! That looks MUCH better. BOY: (Surveying the hair.) I guess. How’d all this hair come from one little mouse? MOUSE: Just lucky, I guess. Is your house always this hairy? BOY: No… I don’t think it’s ever been quite so…hairy, yeah, I’d say you could call this place downright fuzzy. I’d better get it cleaned up before my mom sees it… MOUSE: (Enthusiastically.) Oh, I could help! I’m real good at cleaning. I’ve got a little sister, she’s a slob. Once she spilled her pea and it rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled and knocked my brother over and then her rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled and… BOY: I think I get the idea. MOUSE: (He has a brilliant idea.) Sweeping! I think I could sweep aaalll this up. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 11 BOY: That’s fine. I’ll get the broom. There’s one in the closet. MOUSE: (Running offstage.) I’ll get it! I’ll get it! I got it! BOY: Are you sure? I mean, it’s pretty big. MOUSE: (From offstage.) No. I can get it. I’m sure. I can get it. I got it. I got it. (Slight beat.) It got me. IT GOT ME! LOOK OUT! (A large broom sweeps across the stage, taking the MOUSE with it. Debris flies everywhere. The BOY rescues him and removes the broom. The Mouse spins around the stage slightly dazed.) Is it all gone? Did I get it all? I think I got it all… BOY: What? MOUSE: Hair. BOY: Hair? Where? MOUSE: Hair…here? BOY: Here. Clear. MOUSE: Near there? Hair? BOY: (Checking.) Fair. MOUSE: (Blowing away hair with a big breath.) Bare? BOY: Who, what, where- STOP! Yes, I guess the hair is clear from here and then and everywhere. (To audience.) I was beginning to sound like Dr. Seuss! (To Mouse.) Yes. It looks…Great. MOUSE: (Shaking head resolutely.) Uh. Unhh… If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 12 BOY: Uh unh? MOUSE: Uh unh. There’s a big gooey spot on the floor over there. It’s all glucky and gloopy. Like somebody dropped something yucky and then someone else walked on it with slimy shoes and then it sat for weeks getting squoogier and squoogier until… I wasn’t going to say anything. I’m very polite. Did I tell you that? BOY: It doesn’t look that bad. My mom can get it when she… MOUSE: No…No… Let’s surprise her! We could wash the floor for her. Since it’s swept so good, it should be washed. Yes. I’m going to wash the floor. Where do you keep all your floor washing stuff? BOY: On the porch. (To audience.) As the words were coming out of my mouth I knew I had made a mistake. When you’re a kid, life is kind of like that. You open your mouth… words come out… Ya make a mistake. The MOUSE enters. He is completely covered with a giant yellow rubber glove. He waddles in and gets himself out of the glove. Dusts off his hands. Exits and returns with a large bucket of water, attempting to throw it on the floor, but getting most of it on the BOY. He gives a hearty swing, sending the remaining water and bucket flying. Dusts his hands again and exits. Returns with a large mop. He swings it wildly, unable to control its weight and size. The BOY tries to help, but is forced to duck the mop, jumps over the mop, and then he is finally hit in the face with the mop. The MOUSE runs offstage and the boy tries to catch him, but keeps slipping on the wet floor. He barely manages a standing position, then the MOUSE skates back in on a pair of scrub brushes. He is Brian Boitano, Katarina Witt, and Sonia Henie all rolled into one… at least in his If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 13 own eyes. He is holding a can of powdered cleanser. He sprinkles it everywhere, and finally ends up in a pile with the cleanser all over the kitchen and the BOY. He stand up. Dusts his hands. MOUSE: There. That looks MUCH better. BOY: If you say so. MOUSE: But you know what? All this work has made me awful tired. I really should lie down quietly for a while and take a nap. BOY: Lying down? Quietly? Excellent idea! But where do mice sleep? MOUSE: (Giggling.) in mouse beds of course! That was a silly question. Boy are you funny! ‚Where do mice sleep?‛ you crack me up. Why, I have more energy already. In a minute or two I’ll feel wiiiide awake. BOY: (Panicking.) NO! No! Don’t do that, Mouse bed, mouse bed… Let’s see. Wait here a minute. And think tired thoughts, ok? Sleepy, tired thoughts… (He exits.) MOUSE: (Rocking on his heels, as if trying to self-hypnotize himself.) I’m thinking sleepy, tired thoughts. I’m thinking sleepy, tired thoughts. I’m thinking sleepy, tired thoughts… (Shaking his head, re-energized.) But it’s not working! BOY: (Offstage.) This could make a mouse bed. I hope my mom doesn’t mind. I had to empty all her Lady Lucinda bath powder to get the box, but under the circumstances, I’m sure she’ll understand. (The BOY returns to the stage, rolling a large dusting box. Then he returns If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 14 with an oversized box of cotton balls.) And we could use these cotton balls for a mattress. MOUSE: Hey, these are fun. (The MOUSE rolls on the giant cotton balls. He bowls with one, then takes 3 and turns them into a snowman, decorating them with his backpack. He then makes it snow on the snowman from the cleanser can and sings.) ‚Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!‛ BOY: (Entering.) Don’t have too much fun! Remember- you’re thinking sleepy thoughts. Tired, napping, sleepy thoughts. (The BOY climbs up and sits on counter.) MOUSE: Oh yeah. Right. (He changes his attitude from “playing” to “sleeping”. Starting to sag into slumber, then with a sharp realization.) Sleepy…sleepy… Wait a minute. I can’t go to sleep in my coveralls. I should have pajamas if I’m going to sleep. BOY: Can’t you just take them off? MOUSE: (Shocked!) Then you’ll see me in my underwear! BOY: I’ll keep my eyes closed, ok? MOUSE: Alright… But NO PEAKING! (He starts to remove his coveralls, revealing white boxer shorts with big blue polka dots. He realizes what he’s doing and quickly pulls the coveralls back on. He stands tapping his foot.) BOY: What’s the matter now? MOUSE: I need something to cover up with. So no one will see me in my underwear. What if a girl comes in? What if you mother came in? If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 15 What would she think to see a mouse in his underwear, sleeping in her powder box? Huh? HUH? BOY: (To audience.) I couldn’t say for sure what mom would think if she saw a mouse in polka dot underwear sleeping in her dusting powder box. But I could guess! (To MOUSE.) You’re probably right. Here, take my handkerchief. (He removes bandanna from back pocket and hands it to the MOUSE. To the MOUSE the bandanna is blanket size. The MOUSE registers disgust until the BOY reassures him.) I didn’t use it today! MOUSE: (Takes handkerchief and places it over the box like a blanket. Then he modestly undresses to his underwear again and hops into the makeshift bed. He lies down, and then sits back up in bed. He clears his throat. No response. He tries louder. Nothing. This time he throws in some coughs and humphs.) Ahem! Ahem! BOY: (Exasperated.) WHAT! (Gains control.) What do you need now? MOUSE: (Genuinely surprised at BOY’S outburst. Apologetically.) Gee… I’m sorry. I just wanted… well… At home, I never sleep without my pillow. I wrap it up tight around my head until the tippy tops of my ears stick out and I can’t hear my sister snoring and I still don’t want to be a bother and you’ve been so nice and all… (With a strong sense of martyrdom.)… So just don’t mind me. I can sleep here in the box with the cotton balls tickling my nose and try as hard as I can to take a nap and, maybe, if I scrunch up my eyeballs extra tight and pretend that I have a pillow, then that would be almost as good and then… If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 16 BOY: (During the preceding speech the BOY has gone offstage and gotten the powder puff from the box. he returns and kneels down to the mouse. sorry he ever brought the subject up.) What about this? Will this work as a pillow? MOUSE: (Takes the puff and fluffs it for good measure, sending powder flying everywhere, especially in the boy’s face. He sets it down and carefully settles on it.) This is wonderful. It feels nice and soft. Like sleeping on a fluffy cloud. (He yawns.) I think I’ll just take a nap for a little while. If it’s alright with you… BOY: (To audience.) It was FINE with me! There was still plenty of time to get to JUNGLEMAN. After all, I could manage one tiny, tired, little mouse. (Takes out comic book.) I thought the worst was over. (Beat. Fatalistically.) I was wrong. If an intermission is needed, insert here. Blackout. End Act I. If You Give A Mouse A Cookie 17
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