Cool Like That (our one act, or rather five minute play)

Cool Like That
ACT ONE:
Harold Rogers- the old man
Hillary Rogers- Harold’s wife
Timothy Peters- “hip” kid

[Opens with clear stage, Harold standing in middle of stage looking towards the audience]
HAROLD: The other day I got a phone call from my son who lives in Louisiana. He had just received a letter in the mail that I had sent him. The week before, I had bought a lap computer, and I was so proud of myself for finally figuring out how to send an electronic correspondence to my son Chester. After typing up my message to him, printing it out, putting it in an envelope, and mailing it, Chester informs me that the letter I had sent him was not in fact, an email (which is apparently the name for an electronic correspondence). I wasted all this money on my lap computer, a printer, an envelope and a stamp. This was the day I realized I needed to make a major change into becoming “hip,” as they say on that music television channel.
[LIGHTS OUT]

[Lights come up and Timothy is sitting on his bed, the stage is now his bedroom.]
TIMOTHY: [Timothy is looking in the mirror checking himself out when the phone rings, he answers phone] Hey Sam, what’s up bro? Yeah me too. Not much, just got back from football practice, it was super intense because of the big game this Friday. Oh man, hang on a sec, I just got a text. [Checks phone] Oh, it was just some chick. So I’ll see you at 6, but I might be a little late because I have to go mow the lawn for Mr. Rogers- [laughs] old man Rogers. Alright, peace.
[LIGHTS OUT]
[Lights come up and Timothy is mowing the lawn, gets a text message- checks phone. Harold shuffles out and goes to the edge of the stage, winks to the audience, sits in a lawn chair.]
TIMOTHY: [Goes to Mr. Rogers to get his pay for lawn mowing.] How ya doin’ Mr. Rogers?
HAROLD: Oh hello young man. I’m doing alright. I got a lap computer a few days ago and I’m still trying to figure it out. [searches pockets, hands Timothy the money]
TIMOTHY: Thanks for the dough Mr. Rogers.
HAROLD: Dough?
TIMOTHY: Oh, I meant money.
HAROLD: [takes out pad of paper, writes on it. Timothy gives him a strange look. Waves] Goodbye Timothy!
[Timothy waves and walks away]
HAROLD: This is when I realized Timothy could be my connection to the “hip” new world. It was then that I decided I would watch Timothy and pay close attention to how the youngsters live.
Lights down.
Lights up on Harold and Hilary eating dinner at their dinning table. Hilary is drunk. Harold is not really paying attention, and his mind is wandering.
HILARY: Harold, is something wrong?
HAROLD: Do you think we’re old?
HILARY: [holding a wine glass, slurring her words.] Of course we’re not old—I’m drinking in the afternoon! After all, it may be 3 o’clock here, but it’s 5 o’clock somewhere!
HAROLD: Seriously, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I wish I were young and cool again.
HILARY: You’re cool to me, deary!
HAROLD: I’ve been watching Timothy,
HILARY: The attractive boy who mows the lawn?
HAROLD: and I think I can take a cue from him. He really seems to know his stuff!
HILARY: Well, do whatever you want dear. [takes another swig of wine]
HAROLD: [thinks hard for a moment, then gets up and rushes to the other side of the stage to his computer. Hilary blankly watches him. He types for a few seconds, then practices reading aloud what he has on the screen. Stands, and awkwardly recites what he sees.] “Yo, dawg….I LOL at what…you be saying…” Hey, this isn’t too hard! [lights slowly fade down] “I can…dig it, yeah…I can dig it, word!”
Lights down.
Lights up on Timothy mowing the lawn again, with Harold sitting in his usual lawn chair. Harold “tries out” gang signs while watching his hands. He looks really awkward and is unclear what he is doing. Timothy notices, and stops mowing the lawn, looking up.
TIMOTHY: What are you doing, Mr. Rogers?
HAROLD: [caught off guard] Oh, nothing… [Timothy goes back to mowing. Harold pauses then looks back up.] Hey, dawg, what up…dude?
TIMOTHY: [surprised, stops mowing and looks back up.] Excuse me?
HAROLD: I mean, can you dig it, word?
TIMOTHY: Uhh…yeah, Mr. Rogers. You really know your stuff.
[Harold smiles to himself. Lights fade down on Harold smiling.]
Lights up on Harold, center stage.
HAROLD: After displaying my cool new language that’s hip to the youngsters of today, I decided to email [said with pride in knowing how to say it correctly] my son Chester again. And this time, I typed it up and pressed “send” instead of printing it out. Yeah, I guess you could say I’m pretty hip now. Word.