The Scent of Disappointment

A Satire in One Act

PEPE: (Cornering her in a hallway)

“Ah, my leetle scent-imental darling! Let me show you a night of zee fine dining and ze burning passion! We shall dine upon ze moonlight and drink ze stars! We shall le dance, we shall sip ze wine, and I shall cover your leetle pink nose with ze thousand kisses! Mwah, mwah, mwah!“

PENELOPE: (She squeezes out of his grip with the practiced revulsion of a teen contestant trying to dodge a Trump “friendly” hug.)

PEPE: (Undeterred, lunging back in)

“Ahh, my sweet pussycat! Do not worry your leetle head, for I already have le table for two at ze world-famous Scratch and Post! It is magnifique! Ze dishes are beautiful, ze silverware is vairy, vairy fine, and ze plating… ah! It is like le work of art! Swoon!“

PENELOPE: (She turns on a dime. She’s hungry, the place is trending on TikTok, and she figures a free meal is worth the nasal trauma.)

“Look, Casanova, fine. I’ll go. But enough with the ‘hon-hons’ and the fake accent. You’re a skunk, Pepe. A walking biohazard. And for the love of God, put on some cologne—just nothing from that gold-plated Trump ‘Success’ collection. I have standards.”

PEPE: “Ahh, my sweet leetle flower! Anything for you! I knew ze to-and-fro of le dance, ze timeless art of ze seduction… it would work! You are powerless against my fragrant charms!”

The Scene: Le Scratch and Post

Pepe doesn’t look at the menu; he simply performs it.

PEPE: (To the waiter)

“Bring us ze pièce de résistance! Two filets mignon, so soft you could cut them with a look of love! Place them atop a throne of toasted brioche, crowned with a decadent slice of foie gras! I want ze red wine reduction painted across ze fine china in a dramatic sweep—le swoosh of passion! I want shaved black winter truffles falling like dark, expensive snow upon ze plate! It is not a meal… it is un chef-d’oeuvre!”

THE WAIT:

While they wait, Pepe begins a relentless series of wet, vacuum-like kisses up Penelope’s arm. Penelope doesn’t even look up; she is scrolling Instagram, letting out a dry chuckle at a video of a kitten falling off a toaster.

THE ARRIVAL:

The food slams onto the table. Pepe’s jaw drops.

It is two gray slabs of meat buried under a volcanic eruption of lumpy mashed potatoes. A handful of rice has been “plated” by being spilled directly onto the white tablecloth. It looks like a culinary crime scene.

PENELOPE: (Seeing the mess, her instincts take over. She leaps onto the table and begins manicuring the tablecloth with her claws.)

“Well, you said it was a Scratch and Post! This is what I do! Skritch-skritch!“

PEPE: (Clutching his chest in horror)

“Mon Dieu! What is zis? Zis is not ze picture! Zis is not ze work of Jacques ze Artist! It has no élan! No swoosh! Where is my dramatic snow of truffles?!”

PETE THE HOST: (Leaning over, wiping his hands on a greasy apron)

“Look, Pepe, pipe down. You don’t eat the ‘swoosh,’ you eat the meat. It’s not about the pretty plating, it’s about the quality. Stop buying the marketing and start using your teeth. Now, for the love of God, get your girlfriend off the furniture… and buddy? I gotta be honest. You stink. Even the onions in the kitchen are complaining.”