Townsend Harris High School - Crimson Gold Yearbook (Flushing, NY)

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Mrs. F. Qfalteringl: That's true . . . oh, of course. Good night. QThe professor walks very slowly to the left and climbs the stairs as though in deep thought. Mrs. Frand- poodle remains seated. She pushes the chess- men about absent-mindedly. Looking up, her gaze rests on the French door. She gives a slight start, draws back a bit, and appears somewhat frightened. She gets up from the chair and calls Approdite. The maid en- ters from the left.J Appr.: Did you call, mam? Mrs. F .: Yes, Approdite, I want you to run over to Detective Solomon's home to tell him to come here immediately. Appr.: Yes, mam. QShe goes out to the left.J QMrs. Frandpoodle sits down, draws the table lamp closer to her and continues to play with the chessmen. Occasionally she looks about the room nervously and mutters incoherently to herself. After a few minutes Approdite enters., Appr.: They're here, mam. Mrs. F.: Please show them in, Approdite. fApprodite goes out to the left, and Detec- tive Solomon and Mr. Crabstone enter.J Det. S. and Mr. C.: Good evening, Mrs. Frandpoodle. Mrs. F .: Clgnoring the salutation and get- ting up hastilyl: Pm really so disturbed, De- tective Solomon . . . oh, my . . . Last night, and in fact, for the last few nights, Approdite and I have been hearing strange noises come from that door over there Qpointing to the French doorl, and Approdite believes that someone enters every night. We're so fright- ened that we don't even look, but hide our- selves in our bedrooms . . . oh, my! Det. S. QOn his face is a sagacious look. Before speaking he gives a piece of gum in his mouth a vicious bite.J At what time does it usually occur? Mrs. F .: Almost always at three o'clock in the morning. Det. S. and Mr. C.: Ah! Det. S.: And does your husband know of it? Mrs. F. Oh, nog the professor does not know, for he remains in his study until late, and then he goes to bedg besides, I wouldn't tell him, for it would disturb his peace of mind. fMr. Crabstone, on hearing the word uprofessorf' begins humming a melancholy tune, which sounds a great deal like a dirge.l Det. S.: In that case, I believe we'd all bet- ter wait until three oiclock and then catch the culprit red-handed. page fifty-n ine

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THE PHILOSOPHER A Play in One Act By Harold Fleck Dramatis Personae Dr. F randpoodle, a professor of Ethicsg a timid, scholarly man, he is small of stature, and he blinks his eyes incessantly behind dark-rimmed glasses. Mrs. F randpoodle, wife of the professorg a stout woman of very excitable nature, her attitude is always of great respect for her husband. Detectivejolomon, an amateur detective, friend of the F randpoodles. Mr. Crabstone, friend of Solomon and the Frandpoodles. Approdite, colored maid of the Frand- poodlesg her outstanding characteristic is the presence of two buck teeth in her upper jaw. Scene: Parlor of the Frandpoodles. This is a huge room on the ground floor of their home. To the right is a French door leading to the side streetr, through it pours the light from a street lamp. At the center, to the rear, is a highly decorative fireplace. Above it, on the wall, is a huge picture. At the center, to the foreground, is a large table, fancifully carved. There is an electric table lamp on it, and a few chairs of an antique nature placed about it. To the left is a stair- case leading to the bedrooms. The walls are crowded with pictures of all sizes. Scene I Prof.: You see, my dear, I have won again, and now I shall retire to my study. KHe gets up from the chair.J Mrs. F.: It's very early, and why must you work so hard? I really believe that you won't be appreciated for such labor. Prof. fremoving his glasses and blinking violentlyl: The recompense for intellectual work is not perceived, but rather . . . con- ceived . . . ahem . . . ahem . . . that is, my dear, the joy is brought forth through the medium of the means and not through the end achieved. That inner joy that only the rational being can experience, is all mine. That is the only joy we should desire . . . nothing else, for all other pleasures are vain . . . futile . . . sensuous . . . Continence is the only road to freedom . . . ah, yes! Good night, my dear. page fifty-eight

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Mr. C.: By all means! Mrs. F.: flocking from one to the otherl: Do you really think so? Det. S. and Mr. C.: Oh, yes, indeed! Mrs. F .: Then be seated gentlemen, and let us wait. fThey all sit downJ Curtain Scene II Same room as Scene I. Mr. Crabstone and Mrs. Frandpoodle are slumped in their chairs with their eyes closed. Occasionally, Mr. Crabstone lets out a sonorous snore. Detec- tive Solomon has his eyes barely open. He seems to be enchanted by the sight of the French door. Presently, he opens his eyes wider, looks at his watch, and calls out: Wake up, it's almost three. Mr. Crabstone and Mrs. Frandpoodle give a start and open their eyes. Mr. C.: Wattzamatter? Det. S.: It's almost three. KA pause., Mr. C.: Better turn off the lamp, otherwise the light will be seen. fHe yawns.j Mrs. F. fnervouslyj: Is that necessary? Det. S. and Mr. C.: Why, of course! Det. S.: And let us hide in various parts of the room. You, Crabstone, by the fireplace: Mrs. Frandpoodle, behind the table: I'll go by the staircase. QHe gets up, turns off the lifrht, and moves off toward the staircase. The room is in darkness except for the light shining through the French door. Only the respiratory sounds of the three people can be heard-all else is quiet. Suddenly a shadow appears behind the French door, and a key is heard rattling in the lock. The door opens and a man enters. Outlined against the light, his high hat and well-groomed pants are clearly visible. At first sight he appears to have a gem in his hand, but one soon per- ceives that it's a whiskey bottle. In his other hand he has a pair of shoes, accounting for the absence of them on his feet. Mrs. Frand- poodle breaks the deathly stillness with an awful cry. The man drops the shoes and the bottle and throws up his hands. At the same moment Mr. Crabstone and Detective Solo- mon jump on him. After a short struggle they pin him to the ground. Mrs. Fraud- poodle approaches the three figures on the floor cautiously. Detective Solomon draws out a pocket-lamp from his pocket, and shines it into the intruder's face. Det. S.: Mrs. Frandpoodle, do you know this man? Mrs. F.: Oh, my heavens, yes . . . it's my husband! Curtain page sixty