"Brilliant comedic moments with a little dark humour." -- Simcoe Reformer

Jerry Franken and Brenda Bazinet in the Lighthouse Festival Theatre production of Old Love, 2008


  Old Love is the story of Bud Mitchell and Molly Graham, two people who have known each other casually for twenty-five years. It is the story of relationships among adults who are 'of an age'.
  In the following scene, Bud shows up at Molly's home late one evening in a desperate attempt to talk Molly into beginning a relationship with him.
Molly: Who's down there? Is someone down there?
Bud: It's me. Bud Mitchell.
Molly: Bud Mitchell?
Bud: Good evening. Nice to see you again.
Molly: What are you doing down there? Are you throwing pebbles at my window?
Bud: Stones.
Molly: What?
Bud: I'm throwing stones. It's dark out here. I couldn't find any pebbles.
Molly: And how did you even know this was my window?
Bud: I didn't. I broke three other windows before I got to this one.
Molly: You what?
Bud: It's okay. I'll pay for them.
Molly: Why didn't you ring the doorbell?
Bud: Would you have answered it?
Molly: This late at night? Certainly not.
Bud: That's what I figured. So, I went straight for the windows.
Molly: Well, what do you want?
Bud: I want to tell you something. Can I come in for a moment?
Molly: It's after midnight.
Bud: That's all right.
Molly: I'm in my bathrobe.
Bud: That's all right too.
Molly: I haven't got any make-up on.
Bud: I'll tell you from here. I just wanted to say that I'm not giving up on you, Molly. I was sitting at home tonight all alone, and I wondered if you were sitting at home all alone too. You were, weren't you?
Molly: Yes, I was.
Bud: Yes, now that's a waste of an evening, don't you think? Sitting all alone doing nothing.
Molly: I was watching a basketball game.
Bud: Hey, I love basketball! We could have been watching it together. I called to ask you out but you're still not answering your phone. That's why I had to come over.
Molly: Maybe I enjoy being alone.
Bud: No, you don't.
Molly: What?
Bud: You don't enjoy being alone. You need someone to bounce that sparkling wit off of. You need someone to tell your wonderful thoughts to.
Molly: What are you talking about?
Bud: I know you, Molly. I know you better than you think I do. And I want you to give me a chance to woo you.
Molly: Woo me?
Bud: Woo you. Will you?
Molly: I don't want to be wooed. I want to be weft awone.
Bud: Ah! You see? There's that sparkling wit. And if I wasn't here, it would have been wasted. No, you need me here.
Molly: Mr. Mitchell, you have got to stop telling me what I need.
Bud: Bud.
Molly: What?
Bud: Call me Bud.
Molly: God, you are one of the most persistent men I know.
Bud: I am, aren't I?
Molly: I didn't say that was a plus.
Bud: I just want you to go out with me again. I want you to give us a chance. You haven't given us a chance.
Molly: I believe I told you during our last meeting that there was no us.
Bud: That's because you keep fighting it. And if you keep fighting it, I swear sooner or later I'm going to have to walk away. I mean, a man's pride can only take so much rejection. Eventually, I'm going to give up.
Molly: And when will that eventuality occur?
Bud: Oh, not for a long while yet.
Molly: Wonderful.
Bud: So, how about that date?
Molly: You're not going to give up at all, are you?
Bud: No.
Molly: No matter how many times I turn you down, you're going to keep asking me out.
Bud: Hard to believe, isn't it?
Molly: Mr. Mitchell, please…
Bud: Bud. It's Bud. We've known each other for twenty-five years. Call me Bud. Please.
Molly: All right. Bud.
Bud: Finally. Now, we're getting somewhere. Molly, listen to me. I don't know how this happened exactly. I was a reasonably contented man back when we first met. A contented, married man. That's why I didn't chase you then, because I'm pretty high up there on the morals chain and quite frankly it would have been morally beneath me to come after you then. But, here we are twenty-five years later--dead marriage, dead husband-and I'm standing on your lawn getting damp feet, which at my age could lead to a case of pneumonia or at the very least a nasty foot fungus, but here I stand anyway, and I'm asking you for a chance. You're inside of me, Molly. You've been there for years. Since the first time we met. And I'm not going to let this feeling-this infatuation. Whatever you want to call it-I'm not going to let it die before I've given it every possible chance at life.
Molly: .…Wait there. I'm coming down.
(Molly exits.)
Bud: (To the audience.) Oh my God. This was it. I had finally gotten through to her. I don't know where that 'every chance at life' speech came from. It just burst forth from somewhere deep inside. It was good though, huh? Yeah. And now she was coming down. She would open her front door, throw herself into my arms, and we would be together at last.
(Molly enters.)
Molly: Mr. Mitchell, I've called the police.
copyright 2008 Norm Foster