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Easy Credit

Note: If you’d like to produce this play, on stage or in a class — please email me and ask permission. It will be granted, but I’d really like to know about it.

Copyright 2005. Samuel M. Post.

I will always remember, with fondness and much gratitude, the cast that performed Easy Credit at Theatre Charlotte’s 9×9, December 2-3, 2005:

Darryl Casper                   Father
Mary Ann McCubbin      Mother
Beth Porter                       Daughter

Tammie Casper directed.

A living room. FATHER lies on the couch, sleeping. A newspaper is draped across him — where he was holding it when he succumbed to his nap.

Enter DAUGHTER. She carries a gift bag.

DAUGHTER: Dad — wanna see what I got Mom for Christmas?

This wakes him. He sits up.


She pulls a watch out of the bag.

FATHER: A watch? Lemme see that.

She hands him the watch. He inspects it.

FATHER: This looks like an expensive watch.

DAUGHTER: A hundred and seventy-nine dollars.

FATHER: Where’d you get this?


FATHER: How’d you do that?

DAUGHTER: It’s easy.

FATHER: The money. How’d you get the money?

DAUGHTER: Credit card.

FATHER: You don’t have one.

DAUGHTER: I used yours.

FATHER: How’d you get my credit card?

DAUGHTER: It was in your wallet. Where you keep it.

He checks his wallet and finds the card.

DAUGHTER: I put it back.

FATHER: I didn’t say you could do that.

DAUGHTER: C’mon, Dad. I needed the card.

Indicating the watch in his hand.

FATHER: You can take this back and never do that again.

DAUGHTER: You can’t take it back. It’s the internet.

FATHER: You can send it back.


FATHER: Where you got it!

DAUGHTER: Mom lost her watch. You should have gotten her one.

FATHER: She can buy herself a watch when she wants one.

DAUGHTER: She didn’t.

FATHER: That’s not the point.

DAUGHTER: What is the point?

FATHER: My credit card bill is the point.

DAUGHTER: You use it.

FATHER: It’s mine.

DAUGHTER: I needed it.

FATHER: Wait ’til your mother hears about this!

Enter MOTHER. He quickly puts the watch in his pocket.

MOTHER: Hears about what?

FATHER: Nothing.


FATHER: Nothing. Forget about it.

MOTHER: Why are you arguing with her like this?

FATHER: It’s nothing. We’re…fine.

MOTHER: What is it?

FATHER: Nothing.

She demands to know.

MOTHER: I wanna know what’s going on.

He’s been here before and doesn’t like where it’s going. He shakes his head, as if he’s now hoping it will all go away.

DAUGHTER: He can’t tell you, Mom.

MOTHER: Ah — talking about my Christmas present?

DAUGHTER: Sort of.

MOTHER: Silly thing to argue about.

She scolds her husband.

MOTHER: You should know better. You can’t win an argument with a teenager.

DAUGHTER: No, you can’t.

MOTHER: (still scolding her husband) Just disengage.

Mother exits. They wait a moment.

FATHER: Look what you did.

DAUGHTER: I didn’t do that.

FATHER: You stole my credit card and she’s mad at me!

DAUGHTER: It’s not stealing! I put it back.

FATHER: Do you know how credit cards work?

DAUGHTER: Of course! You think I’m stupid?

FATHER: If you’re not, you’re doing a pretty good job of pretending!

DAUGHTER: I am not stupid!

FATHER: Then you’re a thief.

DAUGHTER: I’m not a thief!

MOTHER storms in.

MOTHER: What in the world!

DAUGHTER: He called me stupid. And a thief.

MOTHER: (To Father) What is wrong with you?

FATHER: She bought you a watch with my credit card.

DAUGHTER: Thanks for ruining the surprise.

MOTHER: (to FATHER) That was uncalled for.

FATHER: You approve of her doing that?

MOTHER: More than you losing control like that.

FATHER: She took my credit card…out of my wallet…and used it. Online. Without asking.

MOTHER: And you ruined her surprise and called her names. You’re less mature than she is.

She turns to her daughter and apologizes for her husband.

MOTHER: Sorry Sweetie. Lemme see the watch.

He gives it to her. She handles it lovingly.

That’s lovely.

MOTHER and DAUGHTER hug. She turns to her husband.

MOTHER: I might take your present back.

FATHER: That’s not the point.

MOTHER: What is the point?

DAUGHTER: You two argue too much.


FATHER: The credit card.

MOTHER: It’s worth all this commotion?

FATHER: She did this.

MOTHER: You did it.

FATHER: She did.

MOTHER: You’re a grown-up.

FATHER: Listen — if she had asked it might have been okay. But she didn’t say a word! You honestly think that’s okay?

MOTHER: I don’t think it’s okay to have a tantrum and hurt our daughter. At her age, her self-esteem is fragile.

FATHER: What about my self-esteem?

MOTHER: Who cares?

She admires the watch.

MOTHER: It is a beautiful watch. She picked it out all by herself.

FATHER: A hundred and seventy-nine dollars.

MOTHER: I don’t deserve a nice watch?

FATHER: Of course you do.

MOTHER: You’ve got a very nice watch.

FATHER: Don’t we talk about things we buy?

MOTHER: Not at Christmas. Not when it’s supposed to be a surprise.

FATHER: Can’t take anymore of this.

He begins to exit.

MOTHER: You think I enjoy this bickering?

FATHER: You seem to.

He’s moving towards the exit.

MOTHER: Where are you going?

FATHER: For a ride.

MOTHER: Coming back?

FATHER: Maybe I won’t.

MOTHER: Maybe you shouldn’t.

He exits.


DAUGHTER: Where’d he go?

MOTHER: A ride.

DAUGHTER: He’s touchy.

Mother emits a bit of a sigh.

MOTHER: Tell me about it.

DAUGHTER: Like my new shoes?

She’s surprised to see this.

MOTHER: When did you get those?

DAUGHTER: Yesterday. Belk’s. I did some shopping and got myself a present.

MOTHER: Where’d you get the money for that?

DAUGHTER: I used your card.

MOTHER: My Belk’s card?

DAUGHTER: Isn’t that okay?

MOTHER: No — it’s not. You can’t return shoes after you wear them. How much were those?

DAUGHTER: Only eighty-five dollars.

MOTHER: You swiped that thing out of my pocketbook?

DAUGHTER: I put it back.

MOTHER: Honey — we need to talk about these credit cards.

DAUGHTER: It’s all we ever talk about.

MOTHER: Because you’re not supposed to do it!

DAUGHTER: It’s Christmas, Mom. Lighten up.

MOTHER: Christmas doesn’t mean we can afford stealing cards and charging willy nilly. I’m pretty careful with that card.

She takes another look at the shoes.

MOTHER: You don’t have anything that goes with those shoes.

DAUGHTER: Sure I do.

MOTHER: You never get just shoes.

She’s afraid to ask.

MOTHER: What else did you get?

DAUGHTER: A few things.


DAUGHTER: A bag. A chain. A dress. Mom, I did some Christmas shopping. They’re surprises.

MOTHER: I know they’re surprises! How much did you spend?

No response.

MOTHER: How much?

No response. Mother panics.

MOTHER: How much!

No response.

MOTHER: How much!

DAUGHTER: A little over a thousand.

MOTHER: (stunned) Wha…they let you do that?

DAUGHTER: I got our credit limit raised.

MOTHER: How much over a thousand?

DAUGHTER: Four hundred.

MOTHER: You put fourteen hundred dollars on my Belk card! Are you crazy!

DAUGHTER: Don’t get so mad.

MOTHER: Don’t get mad?!

DAUGHTER: Mom — it’s Christmas.

MOTHER: Not anymore!

DAUGHTER: Jesus — go fix yourself something to eat. You’ll feel better.

MOTHER: That will not make me feel better!

DAUGHTER: It might.

MOTHER: It won’t.

DAUGHTER: Then take a ride. Go look for Dad.

MOTHER storms off.

DAUGHTER sits back and pulls an iPod out of her pocket.

DAUGHTER: Love this new iPod.
End of play

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