The Babysitters

(ANDI and MISSY are babysitting.  They’ve been babysitting all night.  It’s three am.  They’re worried.)

ANDI:  They’re not coming back.

MISSY:  You said that an hour ago.

ANDI:  And an hour ago, they didn’t come back.  So essentially, I was right.

MISSY:  Okay, fine.

ANDI:  And I’m right-er now.

MISSY:  Not a word.

ANDI:  What are we going to do?

MISSY:  We could try calling them again?

ANDI:  It keeps going to voicemail.  Eventually, their voicemail boxes will fill up and—

MISSY:  Sshh, you’re too loud!

ANDI:  --and we won’t even be able to leave our twenty-third and twenty-fourth message.

MISSY:  I should run next door again to make sure the kids are all right.

ANDI:  Your kids are fine.  They’re asleep.  Just like mine are.  Everything’s fine except for the fact that their parents said ‘To hell with it’ and took off.

MISSY:  That’s not what happened.

ANDI:  Missy—

MISSY:  Andi, what are the odds that two separate pairs of parents who live next door to each other hire two separate baby-sitters, who just happen to know each other, and then take off for—where?  Mexico?  Come on, be reasonable.

ANDI:  Missy they’re neighbors.  They probably worked this all out on their own.  They duped us.  We’ve been duped.

MISSY:  Who says ‘duped?’  Who are you?  A character from a 1920’s detective novel?

ANDI:  Missy—

MISSY:  We should just call our parents.

ANDI:  And tell them what?  That we’re the victims of a child-abandonment scam?

MISSY:  Abandoning your children isn’t really a scam.

ANDI:  It’s totally a scam.

MISSY:  How is it a scam?  Who’s getting scammed?

ANDI:  You and I are getting scammed.

MISSY:  Out of what?  The fifty bucks they were going to pay us?

ANDI:  You’re getting fifty?

MISSY:  Yeah, how much are you getting?

ANDI:  I’m getting—never mind!  The point is, we—you and I—have accepted responsibility for these children.  We are now going to have to raise them as our own.

MISSY:  One of them is only four years younger than I am.

ANDI:  I know.  It’s going to be a real challenge for you.

MISSY:  I’m calling my parents again.

ANDI:  What do you mean again?

MISSY:  Well, I tried them before, but they weren’t picking up.

ANDI:  Your parents weren’t picking up either?

MISSY:  What do you mean ‘either?’  You called your parents?

ANDI:  Yeah, the last time you went next door to check on the kids.

MISSY:  So your parents weren’t answering and mine weren’t answering and the parents of the kids we’re watching aren’t answering—

ANDI:  Oh my God, I knew it.  I knew all along this was it.

MISSY:  What?  What did you know?  What are you talking about?

ANDI:  Everybody hates us!

(A beat.)

MISSY:  You’re right.  That’s probably it.

ANDI:  Right?

MISSY:  No, not right.  Not at all.  Try to detect the sarcasm in my voice.

ANDI:  That’s like trying to find a pumpkin in a pumpkin patch.

MISSY:  THAT’S NOT A METAPHOR!

ANDI:  Fine!  It’s like trying find a pumpkin AS a pumpkin patch!

MISSY:  I’m calling the police.

ANDI:  And telling them what?  That everyone’s missing?  Put an APB out on the world?

MISSY:  It’s worth a shot.

ANDI:  I tried the police after I tried my parents and the kids parents and the police—

MISSY:  Are you kidding?

ANDI:  Didn’t answer.

MISSY:  Why didn’t you tell me?

ANDI:  I didn’t want you to panic.

MISSY:  You’re the one panicking!

ANDI:  Because I know too much!

MISSY:  Well, there must be someone else we can try.  Firemen, hospitals—somebody!  This isn’t a science fiction movie.  Everybody didn’t just disappear on us.

ANDI:  Apparently they did.  They found out a comet was hurtling towards Earth and they said, ‘Hey, you know what?  Responsibilities and kids and jobs and stuff kinda suck.  Maybe we should all just head for secret underground tunnels where we’ll be safe and we can ask the two stupid baby-sitters to watch our kids since there isn’t enough room in the tunnels for us and them.’

MISSY:  People don’t just leave their kids.

ANDI:  People leave their kids even when the world isn’t ending, Missy.  Why should now be any different?

(MISSY’s phone rings.)

MISSY:  Finally!  See, now you can relax.

ANDI:  Maybe it’s a just a telemarketer.  Maybe it’s a credit card company.

MISSY:  Yeah, maybe it’s Visa letting me know I missed a payment on my Prius.

ANDI:  Seriously?

MISSY:  Sarcasm, Andi, sarcasm.

(She answers.)

Hello?

(A moment.)

Oh hi Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher.  Yes, everything’s great.  I totally understand if you’re just running late and—

(A moment.)

Uh huh.

(A moment.)

Okay.

(A moment.)

Well, that’s—

(Silence.)

ANDI:  Missy?

(A moment.)

MISSY:  She said, ‘Tell the boys I love them.’

ANDI:  Was that it?

MISSY:  She’s not coming back.

ANDI:  What?

MISSY:  She…she said she’s not coming back.

(A moment.)

ANDI:  Did she say anything about—

MISSY:  Nothing about the other—your parents or my parents or—just that she wasn’t coming back.  So maybe it could just be her and Mr. Fletcher, but…

ANDI:  But…

(A moment.)

MISSY:  What do we do now?

ANDI:  I guess…I don’t know.

(A beat.)

I guess we’re on our own.

(They look down at the phone, then back at each other.)