Eyebrow Management

EYEBROW MANAGEMENT:

(A love story. Or something like it.)

SUE and JAMIE are outside SUE’s work’s Christmas party.

SUE is dressed in a strawberry costume. She looks pretty cute.

JAMIE, on the other hand, looks insane.

He is dressed in an egg beater costume that includes

two giant wire beaters sticking up from each of his shoulder.

Both beaters are dripping with a mucussy substance.

God knows what it is. It might actually BE mucus, for that matter.

But it does look a lot like egg yolk, so kudos to JAMIE for that, I guess.

SUE

Good god, Jamie, what have you done to yourself?

JAMIE

You told me to come in costume.

SUE

I meant, like, a chocolate bar. Or a charming phallic banana. Even a dead turkey would be better than this.

JAMIE

You said it was a “food-themed masquerade”. I honestly had no idea what that meant. I thought I was being creative.

SUE

You’re dripping.

JAMIE sticks his hand in the “egg yolk” and flings

it at SUE’s arm. This might be a horribly botched attempt at flirting.

Or it could just be malicious. You never know.

SUE squeals, and jumps back from Jamie.

Jamie!

A few of SUE’s coworkers, dressed as toast and butter, walk past.

SUE, clearly humiliated, pretends not to have seen them.

JAMIE

Oh look, it’s your friends! Action time, then? You should have warned me they were coming so I could get in character.

JAMIE waves enthusiastically to SUE’s coworkers.

It is clear that these people have no idea who JAMIE is.

JAMIE then grabs SUE recklessly and pulls her to him,

kissing her dramatically on the mouth. It looks staged

and insincere and is painfully awkward to watch.

SUE wiggles free of his grip and wipes her mouth off on her sleeve.

SUE

Ew, what was that?

JAMIE

A kiss. I kissed you. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?

SUE

Not like that.

JAMIE tries to hold SUE’s hand.

Stop it.

JAMIE

You told me to pretend to be your boyfriend. I’m doing what you told me.

SUE

You’re doing it wrong.

JAMIE

JAMIE lets go of SUE’s hand.

What do you mean, I’m doing it wrong? That’s insulting. You’re insulting me. I’m not going to be your little trophy wife if you’re going to insult me the whole time.

SUE

Pleading.

You’re embarrassing me. You’re not supposed to embarrass me. You’re supposed to be here to save me from embarrassment. You’re just supposed to sit by me and be nice to me and laugh at my jokes and tell me if I start doing that thing that I do. Okay?

JAMIE

Sorry. I’ll be good.

He winks. He tries to hold her hand again. SUE sighs, but lets him.

SUE

What’s with you?

JAMIE

I just want to know what’s with you. I’m a little confused about this situation that I’m in right now. That’s all. Honestly. And, I might have pregamed a little. But just a little, I promise. Really. I’ll be good.

SUE

Jamie!

JAMIE

I’m sorry. Look, why don’t you tell me why you needed me to do this? That might clear things up a bit. Might help me, you know, get in character. Method acting.

SUE

I don’t think that’s a correct use of that term.

JAMIE

Whatever. Tell me.

SUE

The other day, while I was working, a man came up to me. Old dude. I mean, real old. Like I knew right away that he was going to ask me for one of two things: oatmeal or Crisco. Before he even started talking to me, I was planning out what I would say if he said Crisco. Cause you can’t actually do that, just use whatever random oils as lube. If there’s any sugar content at all, it can increase the chance of a yeast infection, and—

JAMIE

Jesus, Sue.

SUE

Sorry. You get a lot of weirdoes in my field. You have to know how to handle them.

JAMIE

You work in a grocery store.

SUE

A lot of weirdoes buy food.

JAMIE

Everyone buys food. I buy food.

SUE

Exactly.

JAMIE

What’s that supposed to mean?

SUE

Look at yourself.

JAMIE glances down, then up, at his homemade egg beater costume.

There, see?

JAMIE only looks bewildered.

Whatever. Look, you’ve derailed me. I wasn’t trying to call you a weirdo, I was trying to tell you about the old dude. So he comes up to me, and I’m waiting for him to ask for some gross old dude thing, oatmeal or Crisco or moth balls or whatever. But then—and here’s the plot twist—he says to me, “Excuse me, miss. You’re a lovely looking girl, but I really think you need to manage your eyebrows.”

JAMIE

Dumbfounded.

Your eyebrows?

SUE

Has anyone ever told you to manage your eyebrows, Jamie?

JAMIE

My eyebrows are fine.

SUE scoffs.

My eyebrows aren’t fine?

SUE

Your eyebrows are okay. Got character. I like them. But has anyone ever told you to manage them?

JAMIE

No, of course not. That would be weird. Inappropriate.

SUE

What about me?

JAMIE

Well, yeah. That was weird, too. Inappropriate.

Beat.

I think your eyebrows are okay.

SUE glares.

Nice. I think your eyebrows are nice. There’s nothing wrong with your eyebrows.

SUE

Thanks.

JAMIE

Should have told him to fuck off.

SUE

I did.

JAMIE

No shit?

SUE

I mean, I think my exact words were, Well, I really think you need to buy some fucking Crisco. But it amounts to the same thing.

JAMIE

I’m sure he knew what you meant.

SUE

It’s stupid. I know that. But it was somehow the last straw. Being a girl is funny. Complete strangers think they have a right to come up to you and tell you to manage your eyebrows. He didn’t even seem like a bad guy, really. He had a good coat. And he had a box of cookies in his shopping cart, the kind with the little dollop of strawberry jam in the middle? I bet they were for his grandchildren. You know?

JAMIE

Uh, no.

SUE

I’m just saying. He was alright, probably. And I think he thought he was doing me a favor. If it wasn’t for the cookies I could have just thought he was a total dickhead and left it at that, but an old dude with strawberry jam cookies is different from an old dude buying Crisco, and—

JAMIE

Shyly.

Sue?

SUE

What?

JAMIE

You’re doing that thing that you do. Where you start rambling like a crazy person?

SUE

Oh. Thanks.

JAMIE

Sorry. You just told me to tell you if started doing that thing. And you were doing it.

A moment of silence. They fidget.

SUE

It’s just, even though you know it’s not okay for someone to do that, there’s a little part of you that starts wondering if maybe you’re the weirdo, not him. If maybe you should go home and shave your renegade eyebrows all the way off and draw them back on with a makeup pen, or something. If that’s the only reason you’re so lonely right now. Your god damn eyebrows.

JAMIE

Don’t do that. You’ll look a clown. Clowns aren’t really that attractive.

SUE

Laughing, a little hysterically.

Well, I haven’t yet, have I? So, there’s that. I’m not that crazy yet. I’m only crazy enough to go to extravagant lengths to at least look less lonely than I am, even if I can’t feel it. Only crazy enough to bring a friend I don’t even get along with that well most of the time to the most unimaginably embarrassing event in the history of all embarrassing events. The Christmas party for my place of work, which, as you were kind enough to mention, is a fucking grocery store. And this party is a fucking food-themed masquerade party. Who even comes up with this shit? I guess I know the answer to that. The same manager who is inevitably going to try to grope my ass when he greets us at the door in a few minutes. Which is where you step in, by the way, Jamie. Please.

Suddenly the humor of the situation sinks in. She starts to giggle.

A YOUNG MAN, dressed as grapes, enters, sees SUE and smiles wide.

He tries, but fails to get her attention. Then hesitates, watching her and JAMIE for the rest of the scene.

And I’m dressed as a strawberry. This is where I am in my life right now.

JAMIE

Could be worse. You could be dressed as an egg beater.

SUE

I’m pathetic.

JAMIE

Just a little. But you make a really cute strawberry.

SUE

Even with the eyebrows?

JAMIE

Especially with the eyebrows.

JAMIE takes a step toward SUE.

SUE

So, um. That’s why I asked you to do this. Since you were curious. Now can we do it right this time? Once more with feeling?

JAMIE

I can try.

JAMIE puts a hand in SUE’s hair on either side of her head.

Beat. SUE closes her eyes. Breaths deep.

SUE

Good. Thank you. Good. You’re a good friend, Jamie.

JAMIE

I try.

SUE

From the top.

JAMIE kisses SUE. It looks genuine this time.

Some of the egg yolk drips onto SUE’s head, but she

either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. The YOUG MAN’s shoulders
slump in disappointment. He stops watching, turns and

walks away from the pair into the Christmas party.

SUE presses farther into JAMIE’s now passionate embrace.

Lights fall.