Narrator:

It is the night of the Theatre Guild’s production of “Dinner at Eight, Dead by Nine,” and it is the 20th anniversary of the Guild. Nick Quartermaine is the writer and director of the show, but the show cannot begin until the guest of honor, Eleanor Van Heusen, arrives. This is Dr. Rank’s and Ramona’s recollection of events and their feelings on the event.

Rank:

I finished tying my bow tie before walking out the door. Tonight is the first showing of the Theatre Guild’s show, “Dinner at Eight, Dead by Nine,” and I’m very excited to see it. I look down at my business cards that say, “Dr. Rank, veterinarian.” The show tonight is in honor of “her.” She is the rudest woman to ever step foot into the Guild. She constantly insults people and gets in the way of our dreams, but I have special plans for her tonight. Anyway, the weather is terrible, so if I plan on getting there, I better leave now.

When I arrive at the Theatre Guild, I take a seat in the audience. I see Nick at the front near the stage, but something seems off. He makes an announcement that she is running late, but the show will start soon. Maybe the storm will take care of everything.

She finally arrives, but the show has only begun. She makes a show out of everything, even walking through the door, but it will stop soon. Once she finally sits down, Nick says that the show is ready to start.

The lights go off, and everyone is quiet, but then there is a scream. The lights come on, and we see that she’s dead.

Ramona:

I hate this job. My work deserves to be distributed to the elites of the culinary world, yet here I stand, surrounded by imbeciles at this dump that they call a dinner theater. I can’t work like this. My list of complaints expands by the second: sauce out of can, nincompoops for waiters and finally, she will be there.

This evening the Theatre Guild has come together to put on a performance of “Dinner at Eight, Dead by Nine.” People from all over are coming to support and celebrate, so for one entire night, I must endure her hateful glances and condescending words.

This will be the last night that entitled hag bothers me.

Everything for my plan is in order. However, it is difficult to radiate in the glory of this moment when these idiot waiters are constantly trying to tarnish my spotless reputation. I yell at a few of them for good measure. Nick, the host, or whatever he wishes to be known as, continues to tell me to behave. My behavior couldn’t make this disaster worse. The servers begin to serve the meal. She is nowhere to be seen. Nick says she might be late, as usual. I storm back to the kitchen, yelling at servers as I go.

I hear Nick announcing something from the stage. The show must be starting.

The lights go off and everyone is quiet, but then there is a scream. The lights come on, and we see that she’s dead.

Come see Dinner at Eight, Dead by Nine

Thursday & Friday Nov. 29 & 30 at 6:30

Sunday Dec. 2 at 1:30

Tickets are $25 for dinner and show

https://ttcths.booktix.com/