SCENE THREE

The lights come up and we see Mr. Peanut standing by the side of

the highway and reading a newspaper. He’s a large, papiermâché

figure complete with the monocle, white gloves, top hat

and cane. Wearing the Mr. Peanut costume is Oxana Kolobko, a

Ukrainian immigrant in her early forties who speaks with a thick

cockney accent. Elizabeth approaches cautiously from opposite

end of the stage and raises a stick, intending to defend herself

should the peanut attack.

OXANA: (Turning to fend off the blow.) Don’t even think about it.

ELIZABETH: My goodness, you can talk!

OXANA: Of course I can talk. What do you think they’d stick a mechanical peanut by

the side of the road? That would be silly wouldn’t it?

ELIZABETH: I don’t mean to aggrieve you, but why put a peanut beside the road in

the first place?

OXANA: It’s called public relations, love. I’m what they call a symbol of good will.

(She waves at a passing car.)

ELIZABETH: Oh, good will! That’s nice.

OXANA: Yes, you see, I wave at people and then they fucking throw things at me. It’s

not even noon and already I’ve been hit by a coffee mug, two bottles, and a

breakfast burrito?

ELIZABETH: Mugs can hurt. What’s a breakfast burrito?

OXANA: Aside from a projectile I can’t really tell you. (She waves at car and turns to

face Elizabeth.) Listen, I don’t want to draw too much attention to it, but

would you like some water to cool yourself down. You’ve sweat yourself

something awful.

ELIZABETH: I don’t know what it is, but all my life I’ve perspired like a stallion.

Come hot weather the rash is just awful. (Still frightened, she scurries pas

Oxana and drinks from a jug of water.) Thank you… Peanut.

OXANA: Please call me Oxana. Oxana Kologko.

The Book of Liz

16

ELIZABETH: Oxana. That’s a pretty name. Are you Chinese?

OXANA: Ukrainian, love. I’m from Kiev.

ELIZABETH: Oh, Ukrainian. That explains the accent.

OXANA: Can you hear it? Well that’s a disappointment, isn’t it. (She waves at a passing

car.) My husband and I studied English before coming over, but you know how

it is. Our teacher was a retired chimney sweep. Lovely man, that one.

ELIZABETH: You came to this country in order to become a peanut?

OXANA: God no. Hopefully this is just temporary. Back in Ukrainia I had my own

business declawing cats, which was actually incredibly rewarding.

ELIZABETH: Then why don’t you do it here? I saw some cats down the road!

OXANA: There’s nothing I’d love more, sweetheart, but in terms of my profession I’m

afraid I’m having to start from scratch. (She waves at a car.) What with the

licensing I imagine it could take years.

ELIZABETH: If you’re unhappy I’m sure there are plenty of other things you could

be. A sausage, or maybe … a dumpling.

OXANA: I appreciate the encouragement, but it’s hard for an immigrant. At this point

my best bet is probably that new nursing home they’ve opened up in

Diaperton.

ELIZABETH: A nursing home? Suckling babies? At the teat?

OXANA: Not with these teats, darling. No I’d be taking care of old people. The pay’s

nothing to get worked up about, but at least I’d have insurance.

ELIZABETH: So why don’t you work there?

OXANA: Schedule conflicts. The interviews are during my work hours and, seeing as

I can’t be in two places at one time, it’s pretty much out of the question.

ELIZABETH: I wish there was something I could do to help.

OXANA: Oh, you’ve been enough of a help already. I mean, for the type of people who

live around here you’re really quite a lovely person. So what, you got any

ideas?

ELIZABETH: What if .. well, what if I were to take over while you went to the nursing

home. I’ve been a peanut before, but shucks, I bet I could learn.

OXANA: You know, I think with a little training you could prob