ACT I
Time: 1884. A white stage. George, an artist, is sketching.

THE DAY OFF

The park. George is alone. sketching the Boatmen's dog. Spot.

GEORGE
If the head was smaller...
If the tail were longer...
If he faced the water...
If the paws were hidden...
If the neck was darker...
If the back was curved...
More like the parasol...

Bumbum bum bumbumbum
Bumbum bum...
More shade...
More tail...
More grass!...
Would you like some more grass?
Mmmm...

SPOT(GEORGE)
Ruff! Ruff!
Thanks, the week has been
Rough!
When you're stuck for life on a garbage scow
Only forty feet long from stern to prow
And a crackpot in the bow-wow, rough!
The planks ere rough
And the wind is rough
And the master's drunk and mean and-
Grrrruff! Gruff!
With the fish and scum
And planks end ballast-
(sniffs)
The nose gets numb
And the pews Bet callused.
And with splinters in your ass,
You look forward to the grass
On Sunday,
The day off.
(barks)
Off! Off! Off!
Off!

The grass needs to be thicker. Perhaps a few weeds.
And some ants. if you would. I love fresh ants.

Roaming around on Sunday,
Poking among the roots and rocks.
Nose to the ground on Sunday,
Studying all the shoes and socks.
Everything's worth it Sunday,
The day off.
(sniffs)
Bits of pastry...
Piece of chicken...
Here's a handkerchief
That somebody was sick in.

There's a thistle...
That's a shallot...
That's e dripping
From the loony with the palette...
(Fifi, the Pug dog, appears.)

FIFI (GEORGE)
Yap! Yap!
(pants)
Yap!
Out for the day on Sunday,
Off of my lady's lap at last.
Yapping away on Sunday
Helps you forget the week just past-
Yep! Yep!
Everything's worth it Sunday,
The day off.
Yep!
Stuck all week on a lady's lap.
Nothing to do but yawn and nap.
Can you blame me if I yap?

SPOT
Nope.

FIFI
There's only so much attention a dog can take.
Being alone on Sunday,
Rolling around in mud and dirt-

SPOT
Begging a bone on Sunday,
Settling for a spoiled dessert-

FIFI
Everything's worth it

SPOT
Sunday...

FIFI
The day off.

SPOT
Something fuzzy...

FIFI
Something furry...

SPOT
Something pink
That someone tore off in a hurry...

FIFI
What's the muddle
In the middle?

SPOT
That's the puddle
Where the poodle did the piddle.

(Enter Franz, Frieda, Nurse, the Boatman, the Celestes and the Soldier with his companion, a cutout Soldier.)

GEORGE
Taking the day on Sunday,
Now that the dreary week is dead.
Getting away on Sunday
Brightens the dreary week ahead.
Everyone's on display on Sunday-

ALL
The day off!

GEORGE
(starts to sketch the Nurse)
Bonnet flapping.
Bustle sliding,
Like a rocking horse that nobody's been riding
There's a daisy-
And some clover-
(The Nurse sees Franz.)
And that interesting fellow looking over...

OLD LADY
(off stage)
Nurse!

NURSE, GEORGE
One day is much like any other,
Listening to her snap and drone.

NURSE
Still, Sunday with someone's dotty mother
Is better then Sunday with your own.
Mothers may drone, mothers may whine-
Tending to his, though, is perfectly fine.
It pays for the nurse that is tending to mine
On Sunday,
My day off.

(George flips a page and starts to sketch Franz and Frieda.)

FRIEDA
You know, Franz-I believe that artist is drawing us.

FRANZ
Who?

FRIEDA
Monsieur's friend.

FRANZ
(sees George; they pose)
Monsieur would never think to draw us! We are only people he looks down upon.
(opens a bottle of wine and drinks)

GEORGE, FRIEDA
Second bottle...

GEORGE, FRANZ
(as Franz looks off at Nurse)
Ah, she looks for me...

FRIEDA
He is bursting to go...

FRANZ
Near the fountain...

FRIEDA
I could let him...

FRANZ
How to manage it-?

FRIEDA
No,

FRANZ
(to Frieda)
I should have been an artist. I was never intended for work.

FRIEDA
Artists work, Franz. I believe they work very hard.

FRANZ
Work!...
We work.

We serve their food,
We carve their meat,
We tend to their house,
We polish their
Silverware.

FRIEDA
The food we serve
We also eat.

FRANZ
For them we rush,
Wash and brush,
Wipe and wax

FRIEDA
Franz, relax.

FRANZ
While he "creates,"
We scrape their plates
And dust their knickknacks,
Hundreds to the shelf.
Work is what you do for others,
Liebchen,
Art is what you do for yourself.
(George flips a page and starts to sketch the soldiers and the Celestes.)

CELESTE #1
Look.

CELESTE #2
Where?

CELESTE #1
Soldiers.

CELESTE #2
Alone.

SOLDIER
(to Companion)
What do you think?
(Companion replies silently.)
I like the one in the light hat.

SOLDIER, GEORGE
Mademoiselles,
I and my friend,
We are but soldiers!
(Rumble from Companion; Soldier quiets him.)

SOLDIER
Passing the time
In between wars
For weeks at an end.

CELESTE #1
(quietly to Celeste #2)
Both of them are perfect.

CELESTE #2
You can have the other.

CELESTE #7
I don't want the other.

CELESTE #2
I don't want the other either.

SOLDIER
And after a week
Spent mostly indoors
With nothing but soldiers,
Ladies, I and my friend
Trust we will not offend,
Which we'd never intend,
By suggesting we spend-

CELESTE #l, CELESTE #2
Oh, spend-

SOLDIER
-This magnificent Sunday-

CELESTE #l, CELESTE #2
Oh, Sunday-

SOLDIER
With you and your friend.

CELESTE #2
(to Celeste #1)
The one on the right's an awful bore...

CELESTE #1
He's been in a war.

SOLDIER
(to Companion)
We may get a meal and we might get more...

CELESTES, SOLDIER
It's certainly fine for Sunday...
It's certainly fine for Sunday...
It's certainly fine for Sunday...
(They go off. George flips a page over and starts sketching the Boatman.)

GEORGE, BOATMAN
You and me, pal,
We're the loonies.
Did you know that?
Bet you didn't know that.

BOATMAN
Cause we tell them the truth!
Who you drawing?
Who the hell you think you're drawing?
Me?
You don't know me!
Go on drawing,
Since you're drawing only what you want to see,
Anyway!
(points to his eyepatch)
One eye, no illusion-
That you get with two:
(points to George's eye)
One for what is true.
(points to the other)
One for what suits you.
Draw your wrong conclusion,
All you artists do.
I see what is true...

ALL
Taking the day on Sunday
After another week is dead.

OLD LADY
Nurse!

ALL
Getting away on Sunday
Brightens the dreary week ahead.

OLD LADY
Nurse!

ALL
Leaving the city pressure
Behind you,
Off where the air is fresher,
Where green, blue,
Blind you-
(Dot enters with Louis. George leaves.)