Characters:

MILDRED: Female. A witch, mid 50’s in age. Runs the cooking program Witchy Kitchy. Though the character is female, a male may play the role with an exaggerated British falsetto if desires.

MR. C: Male. A demon with a short temper.

VLAD: Male. A very stereotypical vampire.

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Time:

Spring in the British Isles, just after a frost.

Place:

A witch’s home kitchen.

 

 

The stage is set with a counter island as if it sits in the middle of a kitchen. The island has at least one drawer, and a set of bowls around a large, black cauldron. Near the island is a single chair and, further down stage, is a mat with a pentacle painted on it.

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Lights come up on MILDRED at the cooking island, a magical staff in hand.

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MILDRED: A very magical day to you, welcome to Witchy Kitchy with me, Mad Missy Mildred! Today, after that miserable frost last night and the haze outside today, I’m in the mood for something comforting. That’s why I’m going to show you my recipe for scones and nectarine jam. She refers to her kitchen counter. Now the recipe for scones is really quite easy. I’ve got two-hundred twenty five grams here of flour, two teaspoons of baking powder, fifty grams of sugar, and fifty-five grams of fat. You can use butter or margarine, but I quite like a good scoop of Minotaur tallow when I can get it. You non-magical folk can mix these together in a bowl, but I find my cauldron does just fine for this. MILDRED tosses all of the ingredients into her cauldron. And then add one hundred mils of milk. I quite like Sasquatch milk when I can get it, but it’s the off season, so cow will do. She adds the milk, raises her staff, and stirs around inside the cauldron. And what you should end up with is a light and sticky dough. Turn out onto your work surface. She turns the dough out onto her countertop and begins rolling it with her staff. And give it a good roll to about one centimeter in thickness. After completing the roll, she pulls a large book from her counter and steps toward the summoning circle downstage. Now, I was planning to pick some nectarines to make jam with from the little tree in my front yard. The only problem is that awful frost last night went and killed all the little peaches on my tree. So I’m just going to have to summon up a fresh batch. She runs her hands over the large book in her hands and chants: Fuzzy fruits so light and sweet/ I summon you now, it’s time to eat!

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There is a flash of light and the stage goes momentarily dark. After the lights come back up, MR. C emerges from behind MILDRED’s kitchen work table with a crate in hand.

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MR. C: Utters a great, terrible roar.

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MILDRED: Ello? What’s this now?

MR. C: Foolish mortal! Who dares to summon Cimeries, the masher of souls, slicer of flesh, and pounder of bones?

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MILDRED: Well, if we’re doing formal introductions, I suppose that’d be me. Mad Missy Mildred, the masher of potatoes, slicer of apples, and pounder of chicken breasts. Whatever are you doing in my kitchen?

MR. C: You summoned me from that ancient, cursed tome, the Necro-Nom-Nom-Nom-Icon.

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MILDRED: Double checks the book. No I didn’t. I summoned—She pauses to double check her work. Oh, I see. I was trying to summon peaches with a lemon, but this page is for peaches with demon instead. Honest mistake. She approaches the kitchen. You do have the nectarines though?

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MR. C: Throws the crate to the floor and draws his great sword. Impudent wench! I will take your head and feast on your soul!

 

MILDRED: Bad demon, bad! Brain curry isn’t on the menu until next month! Crosses to a drawer near the counter. I find that if you’re in a pinch battling the forces of darkness in the kitchen, a good, serrated bread knife is your best chance of keeping your head on your shoulders.

 

MR. C swings his sword toward MILDRED and the two engage in a short duel throughout the kitchen. At some point, MR. C lands a series of overhead swings into his own crate behind the kitchen island. Once he’s done so, MILDRED lands a cut into him. MR. C shouts in pain, staggers backward, and lands in a nearby chair. MILDRED picks up her staff and points at him.

 

MILDRED: Terribly sorry for this, Mr. C, but I’ll need you to stay put for this part of the show. Stay seated!

 

Mr. C: Struggles to rise from his chair. You have hexed me to my seat, foul witch!

 

MILDRED: No, no, the fowl witch is my sister. She makes a lovely duck with cherry sauce.

 

MR. C: Continues to struggle. Contemptible woman, cursed scullery maid, you damnable enchantress—

 

MILDRED: Points her staff at him again. Oh be silent, Mr. C! This is a family program!

 

MR. C: Tries to respond, but finds his mouth is sealed shut, so he just utters a throaty, lip-covered road.

 

MILDRED: Shakes her head. Seems they just don’t teach manners in the lakes of fire and brimstone these days. She surveys the crate he came in with. But all that smashy smashy beat the crate of nectarines to just the right consistency. Thank you, Mr. C!

 

MR. C: Utters the best roar he can without the ability to open his mouth.

 

MILDRED: Just need to get those into a jar. She waves her staff at the crate. Go on now, sweet, sticky mass. Get yourselves into a glass! She returns to her scone dough. Now we’re just going to slice some lovely little scones here and pop them on a baking tray. She does so, picks up the tray with one hand, her staff with the other, and brings the baking sheet over to MR. C. Now usually you’d bake these in the oven at about two-hundred degrees C for fifteen minutes. But if you have a big, bad demon on hand— She extends the tray out toward MR. C and points at him with her staff. Tell me you can’t help and you’ll be a liar. Come on now C, let’s see your breath of fire!

 

MR. C: Breaths a long exhale onto the baking sheet. The stage goes dark save for a single orange light directly on the two to indicate fire spewing from his mouth.

 

MILDRED: You can have a tray of delicious scones ready in as few as ten seconds! Just find a nice spot for them to cool. She walks back over to her counter and sets the tray out of sight.

 

MR. C: You have beaten me, humiliated me, and even used me for your cursed confectionary purposes. Release me from this contract, witch, I’d rather be back in the underworld.

 

MILDRED: Oh, but Mr. C, I made far too many to eat all by myself. Surely you’ll stay for scones and jam.

 

MR. C: Do not mock me, woman. The forces of darkness do not eat scones!

 

MILDRED: Well, maybe you’ll like eating mine. She pulls out a jar of the jam, splits a scone, smears it on top, takes one half for herself, and offers the other to MR. C. Cheers, now.

 

MR. C: Snarls at her, but then lashes out and eats the scone right out of her hand. As he does so, a wondrous smile slowly crosses over his face. Why—why that’s delicious!

 

MILDRED: Nice to hear you coming around.

 

MR. C: It’s—it’s simply scrumptious! I can’t keep something like this to myself, can I summon a friend over?

 

MILDRED: Well I don’t know about that—

 

MR. C: Chatting This lady’s cooking makes me scream and shout/Hey Vlad, come over, check this out!

 

The stage again goes dark. When it comes back up, VLAD stands opposite MILDRED and MR. C.

 

VLAD: In as stereotypical a Transilvanian accent as possible Did somevone call on me?

 

MILDRED: Oh dear, a vampire? Well, looks like we’re doing blood sausage in the next episode. Join me next week for more of Mad Missy Mildred’s Witchy Kitchy, and have yourself a magical mealtime!

 

ALL THREE CHRACTERS smile and wave goodbye to the audience.

 

Lights out.