A/N: Hi! Just a brief warning, scene one is chaotic. You might have some issues if you're not familiar with the musical. Then again, if you weren't familiar with the musical, chances are you wouldn't be here. Right. Silly me. Anywho….this is scenes one and two, and should let you know what you're in for. The plan is to have 2-3 scenes per chapter, depending on length. Also, after scene five, things will probably move slower, as I haven't written past then.

As always, these characters aren't mine. They're Meredith Willson's. I tried to get him to give them to me, but he kind of hates me because I made fun of him for having a girl's name. I do lose more character custody battles that way.

Well, you didn't come here to hear me babble in an author's note! You came here to hear me babble in a screenplay! So without further ado….

THE SLUSHEE MAN: A MUSICAL!

ACT I

SCENE ONE: I Do Not Want a Strawberry Fruit Chew!

(Scene begins on board a train, with about 12 newspaper-reading people who, conveniently, are all traveling salesmen! Coincidence? Definitely not. Just a plot device.)

Conductor: River City. River City, next station stop. I am incapable. Of speaking in complete sentences.

Random Salesman 1: You're crazy with heat. Credit is no good for a notion salesman!

Random Salesman 2: Wh—

Conductor: Boooooooard! All aboooooard!

Random Salesman 2: He couldn't have waited until I said my line, could he? Anyway, what's wrong with credit? I bet in about ninety years, people will be whipping out credit cards to buy everything!

Random Salesman 1: Idiot! It's old-fashioned! Charlie, you're an ice cream salesman. Your firm give credit?

Charlie Cowell: (Licks ice cream and frantically reads the screenplay that's stapled to his newspaper.) Uh….he's a fake, and he doesn't know the territory?

(Random Salesman 5, who is sitting next to him, kindly points out the part they're at.)

Charlie Cowell: Oh, right. (Clears his throat.) No, sir.

Random Salesman 1: (Looks relieved) Nor anybody else.

Conductor: River City. River City next.

All the Random Salesmen, Charlie, and Harold Hill: WE ESTABLISHED THAT! SHUT UP AND LET US ARGUE POINTLESSLY!

Conductor: Okay, okay, sorry. Just thought I should tell you that we're, y'know, going to River City, and everything….

Charlie Cowell: You say "River City" one more time, and I'll smear this ice cream all over your stupid pinstriped uniform.

Conductor: NOOO! Not the uniform! Mummy thinks pinstripes make me look dashing! (He exits the stage and hides behind the curtain.)

Random Salesman 1: Can I do my cool line now?

Everyone else: Sure.

Random Salesman 1: Yay! You can talk, you can talk, you can bicker, you can talk, you can bicker, bicker, bicker, you can talk, you can talk, you can talk, talk, talk, talk, bicker, bicker, bicker, you can talk all ya wanna but it's different than it was! That was a spectacular run-on sentence, wasn't it?

Charlie Cowell: (Ignores the last part.) No it ain't! But you gotta know the territory!

Random Salesman 3: Good thing my line is cool, too, because it's my only one in this screenplay. Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh, sh, sh. Why it's the Model T Ford that made the trouble, made the people wanna go, wanna get, wanna get, wanna get up and go. 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 13, 22, 23 miles to the county seat—

Random Salesman 1: Yes sir, yes sir! Who's gonna patronize the little bitty two-by-four kind of store anymore? Wow, that rhymed! I'm a poet and I don't even know it!

Charlie Cowell: I didn't know it was possible, but you've actually beat the conductor for the Most Annoying Person on This Train award.

Random Salesman 1: YAY! I won an award!

Charlie Cowell: (Face palms.)

(Train slows down and stops. Conductor appears once more, sporting red eyes and a handkerchief.)

Conductor: (Sniffs loudly.) We have now crossed the state line into Iowa. River Ci— (Charlie stands up with ice cream in hand, somehow managing to look menacing.) Um….the town that we're stopping in has a population of 2,212. And cigarettes are illegal. (He confiscates a cigarette from Random Salesman 4.)

(Exit Conductor.)

Harold Hill: You realize that you all forgot to do your lines concerning me, right….?

Charlie Cowell: Oh yeah! Well, Harold Hill is a fake who sells slushee tickets to kids and then runs away with their money. AND HE DOESN'T KNOW THE TERRITORY, because apparently that's significant. I hate his guts and would like nothing better than to squeal on him pretty darn loudly.

Harold Hill: Thank you. (He stands up.) Gentlemen, you intrigue me. (Aside: Would intrigue a mental institution, too….) I think I ought to give Iowa a try.

Charlie Cowell: (Falls out of his seat trying to see if Harold Hill's suitcase has his name written on it in cheesily big letters. He quickly scans the screenplay.) I don't believe I caught your name….

Harold Hill: (Holds up his suitcase. The words "Professor Harold Hill" are written on it in cheesily big letters.) I don't believe I dropped it.

Audience: (Applause, cheers, and a few inexplicable wolf-whistles.) OH! Sick 1912 burn!

(Curtain falls, but the stage crew people forget to turn off the microphones. Voices are heard from behind the curtain.)

Charlie Cowell: (Triumphantly.) That scene really didn't make sense, did it? I bet we seriously messed with the audiences' heads!

Random Salesman 4: (Sulkily.) Speak for yourself. I didn't have any lines, AND they took my cigarette away!

Harold Hill: (Randomly.) No, I do not want a strawberry chew! I'm allergic to strawberries! What's wrong with you, woman?

Stage Crew Person: (Conveniently is picked up by Harold Hill's microphone.) Well in that case, you can just shove that up your—

(Microphones are turned off just in time, and hundreds of indignant mothers in the audience take their hands off their children's ears.)

SCENE TWO: OMG!

(Harold Hill is walking around the town square of River City. Incidentally, it's more of a circle, but that's not the point. Suddenly, absolutely everyone in the town comes out into the square/circle and sings an impromptu song.)

Song: "Iowa Fickle" ("Iowa Stubborn")

Absolutely Everyone: Oh, there's nothing halfway

About the Iowa way to treat you

When we treat you, which we may not do at all.

There's an Iowa kind of changeable

Wavering, and unstable attitude

Which we've never been without that we recall.

We can be cold as the freezer of the ice cream vendor

If you ask about our weather in July.

Harold Hill: (Spoken.) What a contradiction! These people must be fickle!

Absolutely everyone: And we're so temperamental

That it takes us 'bout twelve hours

Just to make up our minds, and then we change 'em again!

But what the heck, you're welcome

Come and join our picnic

But we might reconsider and send you home!

You really ought to give Iowa a try.

Provided you're contrary….

(Song pauses.)

Kid: Good morning, Mayor Shinn!

Mayor Shinn: YOU WATCH YOUR PHRASEOLOGY!

Kid: (Dies of fright.)

Constable: Good morning, Mayor Shinn!

Mayor Shinn: Good morning indeed, if you want to go around in your drawers all day. (He wipes his sweating forehead.)

Alma Hix: And there I was, in Madison Hospital, and no one came to me. Cousin Will never came, Aunt Bertha never came—

Ethel Toffelmier: Your Aunt Bertha's dead!

Alma Hix: (Bursts into tears.) Why didn't anyone ever tell me? AUNTIE!!

(Exit Alma Hix.)

(Song continues.)

Absolutely Everyone Except Alma Hix And The Dead Kid: We can be cold as the freezer of the ice cream vendor

If you ask about our weather in July.

And we're so temperamental

That it takes us 'bout twelve hours

Just to make up our minds, and then we change 'em again!

But we'll give you our shirt

And a back to go with it

If your crops should happen to die.

Harold Hill: Uh, that's nice of you and everything, but I'm not a farmer—

Absolutely Everyone Except Alma Hix And The Dead Kid: You really ought to give Iowa
Hawkeye Iowa
Dubuque, Des Moines,
Davenport, Marshalltown,
Mason City, Keokuk, Ames,
Clear Lake
Ought to give Iowa a try!

(Song ends.)

Harold Hill: Because I already know the names of everyone in this town, regardless of the fact that I just got here five minutes ago, I was wondering if there was a Mr. Squires around? Ah, Mr. Squires!

Jacey Squires: Yes?

Harold Hill: I was interested in a rig for Sunday afternoon, if you could accommodate?

Jacey Squires: Then you ought to see the man in charge of hiring rigs!

Harold Hill: (Points, bemused, to the name tag on Jacey Squires' shirt that reads: Jacey Squires- Man In Charge of Hiring Rigs.) But your name tag says….

Jacey Squires: Oh, I just wear that to mess around with tourists. Not that we get them too often. I can't help you with who the man in charge of hiring rids actually is, because I'm just maddeningly unhelpful like that. However, if you stick around here, one of your old cronies is going to show up, who doubles as a neat plot device.

Harold Hill: Really? How interesting! I don't think I've ever met a plot device before!

(Exit Jacey Squires.)

Harold Hill: Wonder when the plot device is going to show up?

Marcellus Washburn: Hey! Greg!

Harold Hill: Marcellus! And don't call me Greg, okay? The name's Hill, Professor Harold Hill.

Marcellus Washburn: If I lived a few decades later, I would say that was so James Bond. But since I live in 1912, I'll say that it's no use to tell me not to call you Greg, because I read ahead in the screenplay and I don't call you "Harold Hill" once in the entire musical.

Harold Hill: (Hopefully.) How 'bout "Professor Hill"?

Marcellus Washburn: Nope, sorry. So anyway, what's the new pitch?

(Harold Hill mimes eating a slushee, which takes some talent, because it is actually much harder than it sounds.)

Marcellus Washburn: You're not back in the slushee business?! Last I heard, you were making boys' bands!

Harold Hill: Nah, they just don't have the level of appeal that slushees have! I mean, have you ever met anyone that said no to a slushee?

Marcellus Washburn: Greg….no one's invented slushees yet. You're just selling them tickets and leaving. Right?

Harold Hill: Of course! What, you didn't think I'd gone legitimate on you, did you?

Marcellus Washburn: For a second there, I actually did. But anyway, there's a stuck-up ice cream vendor who'll knock you down before you get your bag unpacked.

Harold Hill: Ice cream vendor? Male or…. (Nudges Marcellus Washburn.) heh heh ….female?

Marcellus Washburn: The ice cream lady? She's the librarian! (Nudges Harold Hill.) Female! If you didn't pick up on that from my use of feminine pronouns!

Harold Hill: Excellent, that's just what I wanted to hear. Point her out to me if she passes by. (He mimes eating ice cream, which is considerably easier than miming eating a slushee.)

Marcellus Washburn: All right, I'll point her out. (Also mimes eating ice cream.)

Harold Hill: So….what's new around here? What can I use?

Marcellus Washburn: ….Nothing. Except that the random kid that died when Mayor Busybody told him to "WATCH HIS PHRASEOLOGY" was just told he's lactose intolerant. Least of his problems now….

Harold Hill: Lactose intolerant….marmalade….ice cream….my Aunt Mabel….slushees….pigeons….that'll do! Check me in at the hotel, I've got a plan!

Marcellus Washburn: (Takes the suitcase in an unflatteringly servile manner.) Sir yes sir!

Harold Hill: (To a random townsperson.) Are you Mr. Dunlop?

Mr. Dunlop: No, I'm your Aunt Mabel….

Harold Hill: Really? I simply adore that sweater you knitted me for Christmas!

Mr. Dunlop: ….Psych!

Harold Hill: I knew you didn't have that much facial hair! Anyway, either you are closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, or you are unaware of the level of catastrophe indicated by the presence of an ice cream shop in your community!

Mr. Dunlop: I don't….understand…. (His brain explodes. A whistling janitor cleans up the mess.)

(Absolutely everyone in the town comes out into the square while Harold Hill sings an impromptu song, most of which he forgets. He does get across the main points, though.)

Mini-song: "Ya Got Dairy" ("Ya Got Trouble")

Harold Hill: Weeeeeell….ya got dairy my friends.

I say, lots and lots of dairy.

Blah blah blah, ice cream is bad for you….

Yada yada yada….I call that gluttony,

The first big step on the road to degrada,

Blah blah blah….gotta find a way to keep the young ones healthy after school!

(Song ends.)

(Townspeople disperse. Several random people come to congratulate Harold Hill on his spectacular song.)

Random Person: I must say, that fantastic song has me completely convinced that something needs to be done about the nutrition level of our town! Thank you for opening my eyes!

Harold Hill: (Raises eyebrows.) Anytime.

Zaneeta Shinn: OMG!!!1 THAT WAS, LYK, TOTALY AWSUM!!!!!1!!ELEVEN!!!!1

Harold Hill: GTHAFM!

English translation: Get the heck away from me!

Zaneeta Shinn: (GTHAFH.)

English translation: (Gets the heck away from him.)

(Marian Paroo walks by in a way that lets the audience know that she is snooty, a librarian, highly dislikes the protagonist, and enjoys strawberries.)

Marcellus Washburn: (Runs up to Harold Hill. He mimes eating ice cream and points very blatantly at Marian Paroo.)

Harold Hill: (Laughs in disbelief.) She's a flagpole? I thought you said she was female?

Marcellus Washburn: There are female flagpoles, how else do little baby flagpoles happen? But that's not the point. I was pointing to the lady next to the flagpole….oh wait, she's not there anymore! Go and chase her!

Harold Hill: (Goes and chases her.)

A/N: Wow, eight pages on my word processor! And I'm having trouble writing a three-page World Cultures paper….Soooo….how did you like it? Let me know….in a review! (Bet you didn't see that one coming. I'm just that diabolical. ^.^)