Chill Packs

by on January 9, 2021 :: 0 comments

photo "Time Creeps" by Tyler Malone

(Featuring Polly & Molly)

Other Characters:

Chef Jean-Paul

The Ice Man

Fifi the Cute French Waitress

Harry & Larry

Freezer Boy

Bob Random

Marcy Marcy (does not appear)


Various narrators & monkeys, who can be played by actors or cardboard cut outs as the budget allows, except where indicated

Location: The Walk-in Freezer at the Ritz Carleton, Paris

Time: 1930s. Night time.

Molly & Polly are counting Chill Packs

MOLLY: It’s so cold. I wish we were in a Sunday Comic with an unusual page layout.

POLLY: 17… 18… 19…

MOLLY: …Four-color panels scattered around the big Sunday Edition page like a deck of cards in a game of 52 pick-up. Did you see the sign on the door?

NARRATOR # 1: Molly reads the sign aloud.

MOLLY: “You are not locked in.”

POLLY: 23… 24… 25…  Fifty-two Pick-up isn’t really a game. 53… 54…

NARRATOR # 1: Freezer Boy misses his cue.


Exit CYCLOPS with FREEZER BOY (a cardboard cut-out) under his arm.

New cardboard cut-out of FREEZER BOY descends from above. Monkey # 3 finesses the cardboard cut-out into place.

Exit MONKEY # 3

CHEF JEAN-PAUL (off): Haf yew feenish counting ze shill bags yet, yew lezzie curls?

Everything turns pale blue.

MOLLY (to Chef Jean-Paul): Aw, go chase yourself!

NARRATOR # 1: She mutters to herself.

MOLLY (muttering): Colder and colder. I bet the Sunday Comix aren’t this cold!

POLLY: Gosh, I hope I don’t lose count. 87… 88… 26…

Freezer door opens. Harry & Larry, conjoined twins, enter.

HARRY & LARRY (in perfect synchronization): We’ve been looking all over for you! We have the new record by Le Hot Club!

NARRATOR # 1: Larry brandishes the record.

HARRY (brandishing the record): I’m Harry. Larry doesn’t brandish anything.

LARRY: That’s the straight dope. Never have, never will. Nope, nope nope! Let’s dance, girls!

NARRATOR # 1: Harry inserts the record in his mouth, Ubangi style. The record plays.

Harry does not insert the record in his mouth. He glares at the Narrator. The record plays, however.

MOLLY: Hotcha!

Harry & Larry dance with Molly & Polly while the record by Le Hot Club plays.

Everything turns rose. Roses grow from the carton of chill packs.

CHEF JEAN-PAUL (off): Hairy! Lairy! Yew lezzie bonzes! Get bock to work!

NARRATOR # 1: Harry eats the record and they leave.

HARRY: I’m not eating a goddamn record .

LARRY: We are leaving, though.

HARRY & LARRY (in perfect synchronization): See you girls later!

NARRATOR # 1: The boys wink.

HARRY: I’m not doing that either.

LARRY: Yeah, me neither.

NARRATOR # 1: Prima donnas! The hell with this. I quit.


Re-enter MONKEY # 3. Re-exit MONKEY # 3

POLLY:  32… 33…

The door opens half way. Fifi the Cute French Waitress and The Ice Man peek in.

FIFI: Ze eyes man ees here. Do yew need any eyes?

MOLLY: Are you saying “ice” like frozen water, or “eyes” like the eyes in my head here?

ICE MAN: I got youse covered either way.

POLLY: We could use a coupla warm coats.

MOLLY: Or a big blanket.

POLLY: We need a new narrator, too.

MOLLY: Yeah. We have no idea what’s going on any more.

FIFI: Ooh! I weel call mon ami Bob Random! He ees looking for a chob!

MOLLY: I love his name. RAN-DOM

ICE MAN: What’s the deal on the ice? Is it a go?

POLLY: Nix. Maybe next week.

ICE MAN: Okey doke.

Re-enter CYCLOPS, holding a sheaf of papers.

CYCLOPS (reading): “Cyclops enters, holding a clipboard with papers. He flips through the papers and announces, ‘Fifi the Cute French Waitress and the Ice Man exit.”

FIFI and the ICE MAN exit

CYCLOPS (reading): “Cyclops erupts in a ball of flame. He screams.”

CYCLOPS erupts in a ball of flame.


Cyclops vanishes. A wisp of smoke curls slowly to the ceiling of the walk-in.

MOLLY: Is it still spontaneous human combustion if it’s a Cyclops?

POLLY: I think it’s gotta be spontaneous SOMETHING-ELSE combustion.

MOLLY: Didn’t get much warmer in here.

POLLY: Never does. I hope when we’re in the funny papers it’s not one of those comics with Eskimos and polar bears and penguins. And we live in a frickin’ IGLOO.

MOLLY: Yow! Penguins are cute, tho…

CHEF JEAN-PAUL (off): Yew air steel in zee free zair? How lonk doze it take to count FIFE JILL BAGS??

POLLY: 152… 153… Wait, five? Just five?

MOLLY (calling to Chef Jean-Paul): Which five did you want us to count?!

Trap door in the floor opens and FOUR MONKEYS climb up.

CHEF JEAN-PAUL (off): Num-bairs 17, 21, 22, and 68.

MOLLY: That’s only four.

CHEF JEAN-PAUL (off): And wan to be detair-moned lay-tair.

POLLY: Are we talking about chill packs or monkeys?

CHEF JEAN-PAUL (off): Mon-keys? What Mon-keys?!

MOLLY: THESE monkeys!

A fight breaks out between the monkeys and the girls. It is a battle royale. The girls prevail.

Meanwhile BOB RANDOM enters through the open trap door. He picks up the abandoned clipboard.

BOB RANDOM: Sorry I’m late… Let’s see… “Cyclops vanishes in—” Nope. Did that… “Trap door opens…” Nope…

He skips several pages.

BOB RANDOM (continued): “Bob Random enters.” That’s me! Okay. (Reads) “Bob helps Molly to her feet.” Awrighty.

BOB extends his hand to Molly. She grabs hold and he pulls her to her feet.

MOLLY: Thanks. I read some place the difference between dog people and cat people is dog people wish their dogs were people, and cat people wish THEY were cats.

BOB: I read that, too.

POLLY gets to her hands and knees.

POLLY: Let’s get out of here. I counted all the chill packs I intend to count.

The walk-in is bathed in pale violet. Audience members age at radically different rates. The freezer door opens. Blinding white light. MOLLY & POLLY exit into the light. BOB RANDOM scrutinizes the clipboard. The light is so bright he has to turn his back to it in order to read the clipboard.

BOB RANDOM (reading): “Molly & Polly exit. The door closes. Temperature drops hundreds of degrees in seconds. Bob—”

NARRATOR # 4 (off): BOB RANDOM freezes solid. He shatters into thousands of pieces of ice as the stage goes black.

Blackout. Sound of BOB shattering.


editors note:

So much comes and goes in a day of work. And some narrator, somewhere, sees it all. Or they spin everything into motion and we count the days go by. That’s our job. ~ Tyler Malone

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