“I Love Vincent”
by
Seiya Kou
Author’s Note: “I Love Lucy”, and the names “Lucy”, “Ricky”, “Ethel”, and “Fred”, and “The Tropicana” are registered trademarks of Desilu Studios, a subsidiary of MGM Studios. However, this episode idea was mine, and the way I positioned the characters was also my idea. This fic is dedicated with all my love to Taffy Anderson, a.k.a “Miracle Shining”.
Vincent Ricardo (Lucy)…………Vincent Valentine
Ciddy Ricardo (Ricky)……………...Cid Highwind
Barret Mertz (Fred)……………Barret Wallace
Cloud Mertz (Ethel)……………..Cloud Strife
Spanish Dancer…………Tifa Lockheart
Harpist……………Aeris Gainsborough
Backstage Managers……….Cait Sith
The scene opens in the Ricardo apartment. Vincent is busy vacuuming the floor, a kerchief tied in his hair and a frilly apron tied ‘round his waist; he is humming merrily to himself. Cid and his band is busy rehearsing down at his club, The Tropicana, for the “open-from-renovation” show. Suddenly, the door opens and in steps Cloud, wearing a housedress and an apron. His hair is done up in rollers, and he’s holding a copy of the morning paper, which he smacks expectantly against his hand.
Cloud: Vincent……patient beat……Vincent…….(he stomps his foot several
times on the floor) VINCENT!!
Vincent: (Stopping
the vacuum, he turns to face Cloud and places his hands on his hips.) Cloud
Mertz, I swear! Don’t you know how to
knock?
Cloud: Not when Ciddy has hired the Rockettes to be in his
opening show tomorrow night! (Dashing
over to the modular sofa, he sits down and spreads the paper out on the coffee
table, jabbing at the column with his index finger.) See here? Look!
He reads. “Cid Ricardo to host big bonanza with Rockettes at
“The Tropicana Club” this Friday.”
Vincent: That dirty fink!
(He slaps his thigh in disgust.)
He never lets me be in his shows!
Cloud: I know, Vincent, but that’s because you always bungle
them up!
Vincent: Oooh, a smart aleck, huh Cloud? Vincent pouts. That’s only because you and
Cait Sith always get to be in his shows.
Remember the time Ciddy let you sing in his Barbershop Quartet, or the
time he dressed you and Cait up as Indians for the “Hiawatha” number?
Cloud: Yeah…I remember how you bungled that
too. Don’t worry though, you’ve got a
front-row ticket. “The Tropicana” is
going to be packed tomorrow night, and people’ll be fightin’ for seats! If anything, you’re lucky that you even got
a table.
Vincent: (still
pouting)
That’s easy for you to say, Cloud.
You’re sitting at my table!
Cloud: (nodding)
Yeah…..besides, I’m not in the show either, Vincent, so you won’t be alone.
Vincent: (eyes lighting up) Hey, wait a minute! I think I
got an idea to get me in the show!
Cloud: Aww, no! I’m
not helping you in another one of your hair-brained schemes!
Vincent: If you don’t, I’ll tell Barret of the new dress you
bought the other day!
Cloud: You wouldn’t!
Vincent: Oh, wouldn’t I?!
Come on, I’ll get you in the show too!
Cloud: (giving up all hope of reasoning) Ohh, all
right!
Vincent: (clapping his hands) Ha-haaa!!
Scene II
Ciddy and Barret are at “The Tropicana”; Cait Sith is seated at one of the front-row tables while Ciddy is rehearsing his “Babaloo” number with an emaciated, yet talented Spanish dancer with castanets. Tifa stands, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her more than ample breasts stretching the polyester of her low-cut dress. She gasps for breath, her arms raised high over her head as Ciddy finishes pounding out the last notes of “Babaloo”. Suddenly, the harpist cries out in pain, and the Tropicana club band stops playing.
Aeris: Oww…..Ciddy, can we stop? My fingers really hurt from all this work.
Ciddy: (looking at
her angrily, his carefully gelled hair falling into one of his bright blue
eyes.) Okay,
everyone, take five. Good work, Tifa,
though you might want to add a few twirls in for de last “babaloo!”. We have to get de number perfect for
Vincent.
Tifa: (smiling, she
waves at him and disappears into the dressing room,
the curtain breezing behind her) Alright, Cid. I’ll have it ready for tomorrow night.
Ciddy: Dat’s fine, but have it ready soon, because of the
big drum for dis number.
Tifa: (laughing from the dressing) room Don’t worry, Ciddy, it’ll be smashing!
Ciddy walks over to sit down at one of the front tables next to Barret and sighs, running his hand through his hair in an attempt to fix the pompadour style. Barret removes his fedora hat and sets it on the table, wiping the sweat from his baldhead with a handkerchief.
Barret: Hiya, Ciddy.
Ciddy: Oh, hello Barret.
What did you think of de number?
Barret: (continuing
to wipe his brow.) It was fine, Cid, fine.
Though it’s really hot in this club.
Is your air conditioner on the fritz or somethin’?
Cait Sith: (emerging
from backstage, the moogle is coated with a bluish fluid. A towel is slung over his shoulder, and the
pilot-cat holds a greasy wrench in his hand) Yeah, we seem to be having trouble with the
doohickey. It’s stuck on “hot”.
Barret: That’s because you’re not fixing it right. You have to turn the valve counterclockwise.
Cait Sith: We tried that. (He holds up a broken valve.)
Ciddy: Oh no! Do you
know how hot it’s going to get in here tomorrow night? The guests are going to get restless, and
you know what de heat does to Vincent.
Barret: Speaking of which, how do you intend to keep Vincent
from finding out that you’ve got the Rockettes coming? You know how he’s always wanted to dance
with them, right?
Ciddy: Oh, dat part was easy. (Holds up a copy of “Variety”.) I swiped our copy of de “Variety”
magazine from de front door dis morning; Vincent will never suspect anything
until de last minute!
Barret: laughing Good job,
Ciddy!
Scene III
Nighttime at the Ricardos. Vincent stands against the fireplace, wearing a very tight satin dress and a fur stole. His hair is masked by a bottle-blonde wig styled like Lana Turner’s hairdo, a cigarette smokes from a long holder. The door buzzer rings, and he floats over to open a door, revealing Cloud in an equally fancy outfit. A cigarette smokes from his holder as well as he glides right inside the Ricardo apartment.
Cloud: (breezy voice) Hullo, Vincent. You look positively glamourous in that outfit!
Vincent: (similar
breezy voice)
Yes, well, I do try to look my best.
And you, Cloud, you look quite fashionable.
Cloud: Ohhh, this old thing? (His hand glides down
the satin of his dress) Yes, well, classics are
the best I suppose.
Vincent: Aww, Cloud, you look really good in that!
Cloud: Heyy, you’re not half bad yourself! Where’d you get that thing, though? (Points to the wig.)
Vincent: Oh, Mrs. Trumble from downstairs loaned it to me for
the evening. She used to be a showgirl,
you know…on Vaudeville, like you and Barret.
Cloud: Yeah…speaking of which, any word from the boys yet?
Vincent: Ciddy said he and Barret will be home soon. I didn’t bother making them dinner, so if
our outfits fail, they’ll have to spend more money.
Cloud: Oh, Vincent, are you sure that’s a good idea?
Vincent: Well, when you’ve got a cheapskate for a husband and
you’re willing to hammer away….
The buzzer rings.
Vincent: …you’ve got to use a mallet to beat them into
submission. (He traverses the
apartment floor and opens the door with great dramatic flair. There is a long pause as Ciddy and Barret’s
eyes) slide up Vincent’s sylphlike form,
digesting every bit.
Ciddy: Vincent, is that you in there?
Cloud: (whistling to
his husband, he grins as Barret’s eyes eat him up as well) Why don’t
you take a picture? It’ll last longer?
Barret: Cloud…?
Wha….?
Ciddy: Vincent…..Cloud….what did you buy?!
Vincent: Just a little something….(he runs his hands up
his sides slowly, as if to elicit a bulge in his husband’s pants)….to let you see our….professional talents.
Ciddy: Ohh, no! Is
out of the question! (He slaps
the back of one hand in the other’s palm.) An’ I wan’
you to bring back dose silly dresses tomorrow!
An’ don’ call me dose silly names, either. Dat won’t get you in da show.
Vincent: What names?
Ciddy: You know….. “cheap-wad” an’ “tight-skate”.
Vincent: That’s “cheapskate” and “tightwad”, which suit you
just fine! (Raising his
eyebrows, he sticks out his tongue at his husband)
Ciddy: Dat’s it!
Dat’s de camel dat broke de straw’s back! You’re not going to de Tropicana for tomorrow night. You’re grounded.
Cloud: Aww, Ciddy, Vincent didn’t mean it!
Ciddy: An’ Cloud, were you in on dis too?
Cloud: And what if I was?! (Wagging his head in retort, his hands firmly on his hips)
Ciddy: You’re grounded too.
No Tropicana for you, either!
Barret: Way to tell ‘em, Cid! Pats him on the back
Ciddy: C’mon, Barret, let’s go back to de club.
They leave, slamming the door behind them.
Cloud: Oh, Vincent! Now look at what you’ve gone and done!
Vincent: (waving his hand at his best friend dismissively) Now now….I think I have another idea. (Clapping his hands together triumphantly) Ha-haa!!
Cloud: (dejectedly, he presses his face into his hand and moans) Oh for Pete’s sake, not again!
Friday night backstage at “The Tropicana” club. Band members are running about, instruments
in hand. A drum that would span the
stage when lain flat, is rolled in and
left on its side for Cait Sith to position on stage later in the show. A stage buzzer sounds, and instantly all the
band members sprint out onto the stage and take their places. A loud musical overture can be heard as
Ciddy breaks into song on stage. In the
quiet of the backstage, Vincent and Cloud sneak into the area, hand in
hand. They are both wearing ridiculous
sequined showgirl costumes, their hair done up in feathers.
Vincent: (pointing
to the drum) There it is,
Cloud! Ain’t she a beaut! (Reaches into his small purse and
produces a small, but sharp golden letter opener.)
Cloud: Ohh, Vincent…you’re not thinking of hiding in the drum, are you? I bet it cost a lot of money! Ciddy will be real sore if you break it!
Vincent: (grimacing
as he cuts a Vincent-sized slit down
the canvas of the drum) Come on,
get inside this thing. There’s plenty
of room! (Squeezing himself in, he
holds out a hand and helps Cloud inside the drum)
Cloud: Heey, this is roomy!
Vincent: You see?! Nothing to it!
(Five minutes later, Cait Sith wanders by and inspects
the drum. His eyes go wide at the slit, and he begins to panic.)
Cait Sith: Oh no, if Ciddy sees this rip, he’ll kill me! (Beat as his hand grazes against the roll of packing tape attached to his utility belt.) Hey, wait a minute! (With one fluid motion, he pulls out a length of the packing tape and patches up the gash.) There we go! He’ll never know the difference!
Cloud: Ah, Vincent! (His voice trembles from within the drum and echoes throughout the instrument’s interior.)
Vincent: Not a word, Cloud. Just be patient!
Ciddy has just finished the penultimate number in the show. He bows gracefully and walks off to the side as the backstage curtains open, revealing the large drum-stage. Slowly, it is wheeled in then placed on its side. The orchestra warms up a bossa-nova-ish number as Tifa emerges in full regalia and takes her place in the centre of the stage. Behind her, a crescent line of Rockettes forms, taking their places in the darkened stage. A spotlight appears on Ciddy, who has just jumped onto the drum wearing a very big pair of steel-heeled boots.
Ciddy: Ladies ‘an Gentlemen. It is the club Tropicana’s and my pleasure to bring you the following number that made us famous. Tonight, however, we do something a little special with de number. May I present to you, de “Babaloo”!
As the song begins, Ciddy begins to strongly stomp on the canvas of the drum, mimicking the sound his usual drum makes, albeit deeper and stronger. Tifa twirls around several times, kicks high, and hooks her knee over Ciddy’s shoulder. Together, they stomp out the tune louder and more passionate before.
Ciddy: Baaaabaaaalooooo!!!
Meanwhile, within the drum, Vincent and Cloud hold their ears in sheer agony.
Cloud: (screaming over the din) See what your hair-brained scheme did to us this time, Vincent?
Vincent: Waaaah! I just wanted to be in Ciddy’s show!!
Cloud: (glumly) Well, you got what you wanted. You and I are the first percussionists to play inside the drum!
Ciddy: Baaaa-baaaa-looooo!!! (Suddenly, he stomps on the piece of packing tape used to seal the
drum and falls through, just as Vincent and Cloud pop out wearing their
showgirl costumes. They link arms and,
with the Rockettes, begin to kick high into the air and sing.)
Cloud: By the light….
Vincent: Not the dark but the light…
Cloud: Of the silvery moon…..
Vincent: Not
the sun but the moon!
Cloud: We slept last under June….
Vincent: Not in July, but in June…
Cloud and Vincent: Your sil’vry beams will bring love’s dreams/we’ll be cuddling soon….
Ciddy: (looking very disheveled, he hauls himself out of the drum and points a shaking finger at Vincent and Cloud) VINCE-ENT!!!…..You got some ‘splainin to do….!!
Vincent: Waaahh! Run, Cloud!!
The play ends as the duo sprints out of The Tropicana, Ciddy in hot pursuit, swearing in his native Cuban language.
FIN