SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY CHARACTERS MISS GENEVA MUSGRAVE, town florist HONEY RAYE FUTRELLE, second oldest Futrelle sister GINA JO (G.J.) DUBBERLY WAVERLY, Justin's wife RHONDA LYNN LAMPLEY, oldest Futrelle, sister TWINK FUTRELLE, middle Futrelle sister JUSTIN WAVERLY, interim pastor of The Tabernacle of the Lamb JOHN CURTIS BUNTNER, Deputy Sheriff DUB DUBBERLY, Frankie's husband FRANKIE FUTRELLE DUBBERLY, youngest Futrelle sister RAYNERD CHISUM, friend of the Futrelles, Dairy Dog employee INEY DUBBERLY, Dub's elderly aunt D. DAYVA DAVIDSON, visitor to Fayro BUCK STRICKLAND, visitor to Fayro ACT ONE Scene 1 Lights come up on Miss Geneva Musgrave, 60s, the crusty proprietor of BooKoo BoKay, the only flower shop in the small town of Fayro, Texas. The phone rings. She answers. GENEVA. This is BooKoo BoKay, where we're featuring our I-Really-Stepped-In-It-This-Time Begonia Basket - a perfect way to say "I’m sorry" to that special someone you've recently shafted. How can I help you? ... Yeah, this is Geneva ... Hey, Willabean, how's things over at First Baptist? ... Your church treasurer's gettin' out of jail already? You'd think for embezzling the entire Missionary Fund she'd have served more time ... Well, if y'all really think it's in your best interest to give Marlene her old job back, how about I whip up one of my special "Oh, Sinner, Come Home" altar bouquets? ... You bet. I'll run it by Saturday. (Hits another button) This is BooBoo BoKay ... Hey, Tenny, thanks for calling back. I bumped into Ozella Smoot who told me that you and Ferlin are thinking about closing up Guns for Less. Well, I urge you to reconsider ... People have been leaving in droves ever since we lost the rendering plant, the SuperSmart Mart and Clovis Sanford's House of Meat ... Well, I'm struggling, too. I haven't had a decent funeral in two months. And don’t get me started on this whole "in lieu of flowers" movement. What hateful stepchild thought that up? ... Well, I am up in arms. Fayro's disappearing before our very eyes! And you know what really burned my bacon? It was when Sissy Fowler gave up and closed the Squat 'N' Gobble. Have you heard what she spray painted across the front window as a parting shot? ... "Fayro may not be the end of the earth, but you sure can see it from here." (Blackout.) Scene 2 Lights come up as Honey Raye Futrelle, 50s, a sexy, vivacious go-getter enters in a tight, revealing, flashy dress. Her niece, Gina Jo. "GJ" Dubberly Waverly, 20s, naive and earnest, is slumped face down on the table. HONEY RAYE. I need your help, Shug. Ever since my breakup with Wade Porter, I've been going through an unprecedented dry spell in the romance department. So, I've decided if I want love songs to continue to be the soundtrack of my life, I should revamp my wardrobe. Now, be honest, does this dress say, "Some Enchanted Evening" or "Send in the Clowns?" (No response.) G.J.? You okay? 1 G.J. (Face down.) Yes ma'am, I'm fine. HONEY RAYE. Now I'm a pretty fair judge of body language, Gina Jo, and my instincts are telling me something's wrong with you. G.J. Well, actually ... Justin and I are having ... a marital issue. HONEY RAYE. Ahhhh. Well, don't you worry, Sugar Britches, this is your Aunt Honey Raye's area of expertise. Oh, I know what you're thinking: how could someone with this much sex appeal know anything about "problems in the bedroom"? Well, truth is, I did have 'em, to some degree, with all five of my husbands – especially with Lucky Husband Number Four. But to be honest, Bulldog proved to be problematic in almost every arena. G.J. Aunt Honey, I may have given you the wrong impression- HONEY RAYE. Now, here's the sure-fire cure for the bedroom blahs. Outline your bed in strings of colored lights, and make certain they're the blinkin' kind. Then play some real exciting game like The Inexperienced Intern and The Naughty Night Nurse. Girl, that is one of my all-time favorites - G.J. Aunt Honey, I'm talking about money trouble. Justin's got no .1 idea how to handle what little we have and we need to get it under control. HONEY RAYE. Gina Jo Dubberly Waverly, listen to me, you do not let a monkey give you a haircut and you do not let a husband handle your finances. One is just as dangerous as the other. G.J. Well, we were doing okay 'til I lost my job. Which really surprised me because the Stockmen's Association had just named me Cow Inseminator of the Year. But I got so carried away inseminating, trying to live up to my title, Dr. Thompson laid me off from the Large Animal Clinic. He was afraid I was on the same path to carpal tunnel that took out Loydene Buttram and he couldn't afford the workmen's compo HONEY RAYE. Insemination can be a runaway train. Shug, I'm so sorry. I just hate to see your talents go to waste. Maybe you need to do something to lift your spirits ... hey, like riding with me over to Sweetgum to the cable access station where I'm making a commercial. G.J. A real, live TV commercial? That's so excitin'. HONEY RAYE. I just hope my customers will feel the same. Business has been so bad in Fayro, it's either give it one last shot or close down Wynette's Dinette City forever. But if this commercial doesn't work, then your Aunt Honey has no choice. I'm going to have to go huntin'. G.J. Huntin'? For what? HONEY RAYE. For Wealthy Husband Number Six! (They laugh. Blackout.) Scene 3 Lights come up on Rhonda Lynn Lampley, 50s, a fun-loving ball of fire. She takes an order over a phone headset. RHONDA LYNN. Dairy Dog. Rhonda Lynn Lampley speaking. What's it for you, Hon? ... Roger that, Darlin'. We got two fried fish sandwich specials, order of cheese fries with a side of fried jalapenos. You know Johnny Ralph, I'm thinking that's an awful lot of fried food for you considering - ... Oh, I didn't know you'd already had the angioplasty. Well, then, you are good to go. Come on by in fifteen. (Yells 2 offstage.) Raynerd, give me a deuce on the swimmers, pile on hot spuds with a mad cow, firecrackers on the side! (Twink Futrelle, 40s, determined and practical, enters carrying a small shopping bag.) TWINK. Hey, Sis, how's business? RHONDA LYNN. It's been better, Twink. But with a little luck and the right financial planning, I should be able to retire by the time I'm a hundred and forty-nine. TWINK. I just stopped by 'cause your makeup order came in. (Holds out the shopping bag, clearly displaying the ring on her finger.) RHONDA LYNN. Oh, thank goodness. I want to look extra special for my date Saturday night with - (Reaches for the shopping bag.) Wow! Look at that gorgeous ring on your finger! Oh, my Lord! Is that - TWINK. Well, as long as you've noticed I'll tell you ... 'cause I'm about to bust with the news! John Curtis and I are gettin' married! RHONDA LYNN. (Squeals and engulfs Twink in a hug.) Twink, that is the best thing I've heard in weeks! Congratulations! Oh, Little Sister, you're finally going to get to wear that wedding dress you've hung onto all these years. TWINK. Yeah, and if there's a prayer in hell of me squeezing into it, you'd better cut me off the chili fries, pronto. RHONDA LYNN. You got it. Now, tell me exactly how John Curtis popped the question and don't spare the details. TWINK. Well ... actually, he didn't propose. I did. RHONDA LYNN. (Beat.) Beg pardon? TWINK. It happened at the Optimist Club's Annual Rattlesnake Roundup. We were out on the Munnerlyn farm and when John Curtis made his quota, he was so excited and happy; he just leaned over and kissed me. He handed me his bag of rattlers to carry back to the truck and, I don't know, everything felt just perfect. So, I dropped that bag of snakes, fell to one knee and asked that man to marry me. RHONDA LYNN. Oh ... my! Well ... what a wonderful, fresh twist on ... I mean, how romantical. So, did he um ... get to pick out the ring? TWINK. Well, of course. When I propose marriage, I do it right. (Holds out her hand.) I gave him two to choose from. I was so touched he picked this one. RHONDA LYNN. And you deserve this after suffering through that sixteen-and-a-half year engagement to Wiley Hicks. And you know what? If you hadn't torched Wiley's NASCAR collectibles and set his entire mobile home park on fire after he ran off with somebody else, you never would've gone to jail and you might never have fallen in love. And now, here you are the future Mrs. Deputy Sheriff John Curtis Buntner. TWINK. I swear that man's kisses are sweeter than a box of Little Debbies. And you are so right about destiny. If I hadn't paid my debt to society, I never would've met those other two inmates, LaToya and Gaynell.