Mobsters Wink

In Mobsters Wink, the local “family” gets new management, and let’s just say the new boss wears heels. When bumbling super-cop Lieutenant Colombo stumbles into the mix, chaos follows—complete with off-key troubadours, a mysterious murder, and the world’s worst poker game.

This 90-minute interactive dinner show invites the audience to play judge and jury, voting on who “did it” in the over-the-top case of Tommy Gunn. Packed with humor, wordplay, and surprising grace, Mobsters Wink delivers an unforgettable evening of laughter and lighthearted fun.

Run-Time: 90 minutes (plus meal/intermission)
Cast Number: 12+ (expandable; any gender mix)
Biblical Reference: Ecclesiastes 10:19 — “A feast is made for laughter.”
Setting: Simple table-and-chairs stage; optional audience dining area
Props:

• Playing cards
• Musical instruments (guitar, accordion, triangle, etc.)
• “Guilty Guy List” voting cards
• Optional organ sound effects
• Trench coat for Lt. Colombo
  Category: Dinner Theatre • Comedy Mystery • Audience Participation • Fellowship Event

Sample Script:

Download sample:  Mobsters Wink

Singers come on stage, hum to find the right key, all are on different key, singing very badly.

Singers:
Hummmmmmmmmmmmmm
(clear throats)
This story now we bring to you
We sing it loud and strong
We never once have sung before
Who knows if we last long

Our tale of woe we bring to youse
A tale of right and wrong
We sing of those who evil do
Like us they won’t last long

Mobsters here, mobsters there
Mobsters all
Give us all the evil we can bear
A heist, someone iced
Enjoyin’ what we do

Big Al he was the mobster king
He ran a happy mob
Pinkie, Mugsie, Tenderboy
Was in for every job

Big Al he needed time to rest
He needed time to think
The winds of change they start to blow
And man those winds can stink

Mobsters here, mobsters there
Mobsters all
Give us all the evil we can bear
A heist, someone iced
Enjoyin’ what we do

Singers exit. Mobsters sit around playing cards. Some sleep in chairs. Mugsie jumps up from his chair, pats his gun, shouts.

Mugsie:
All right, all of youse! Hands up on the table where I can see what youse are doin’! And don’t even think’a touchin’ those cards!

Pinkie, who was sleeping, falls out of his chair, stands up annoyed.

Pinkie:
Hey what’s goin’ on Mugsie, you know full well I was catchin’ twenty z’s here! You do that again, gonna find you could be restin’ comfortable on a slab in the morgue.

Mugsie:
Ahh Pinkie, I took all I could’a took, these here street crew wise guyz I been playin’ cards with, they must take me for a fool.

Fingers:
What ya moanin’ about Mugsie, just a sore loser is what you are!

Mugsie, grabs Fingers by the collar, shakes him:
So I am a sore loser am I Fingers? Let me show you a sore loser!

Pinkie:
Chill Mugsie, let Fingers be. Tell me, what’s got you frothin’ at the mouth.

Mugsie:
These dudes are cheatin’ me at cards here!

Chorus of fake disbelief.

Martha:
How can ya say such a thing about me, I am your bud, remember?

Cabbage:
Ya hurt me bad when ya make that kinda accusation, unfounded and hurtful is what!

Tenderboy:
Doncha remember, it was us guys what caused a diversion when you was bein’ busted last month?

Mugsie:
What you talkin’ ‘bout Tenderboy, caused a diversion? Youse guys raced away, left me to face the feds!

Cabbage:
So our idea didn’t quite work out, we figgered that the fuzz would chase us, and leave you be, so’s that you could escape. . . . Ya that’s it!

Martha:
Ya Mugsie, our hearts was in the right place, trust us.

Mugsie:
Right Martha, like I am gonna trust youse guys for a minute, ya right!

Pinkie:
Enough’a this! Now Mugsie, you gonna tell me what’s your beef with these folks or what, remember we are family here, and as the unofficial spot of the family . . .

Cabbage:
The spot? You, the boss of the family? Since when did somebody die and make you the spot, Pinkie?

Pinkie, menacingly:
Since I, Pinkie the Punk, say so. Somebody maybe gonna challenge me . .? Maybe you, Cabbage?

Cabbage, backing down:
Me, I never said nothin’ Pinkie, I mean, I’m . . .

Pinkie:
Good. And maybe don’t forget real quick, OK Cabbage? . . . Now then, Mugsie, what beef you bringin’ against these fine gentlemen?

Mugsie:
These . . . fine . . . gentlemen — and I use the term with a bunch’a looseness — these fine gentlemen bin cheatin’ me at cards here.

Pinkie:
So ya say, Mugsie . . . but what, like, proof ya got?

Mugsie, holds up card:
See this card, Pinkie?

Pinkie:
So what’s this, Mugsie, flash card time at preschool? Ten’a diamonds — what does that prove?

Mugsie:
Look again, Pinkie. Real close this time.

Pinkie:
I ain’t got my glasses, Mugsie. What say you tell me?

Mugsie:
Well you was close, Pinkie — it for sure is diamonds. But if ya counts them, they is eleven diamonds. And last I heard, ten’a diamonds got . . . like . . . ten diamonds on the card — believe it or not. Now then, you figger I maybe got a beef?

Pinkie:
Not sure, what would your beef be?

Mugsie:
My beef would be that these losers is playin’ with a phoney deck’a cards.

Pinkie:
“Phoney?” . . . Awwwww, now that is harsh! . . . Real harsh! . . . Marginal truth deficient perhaps . . . but “phoney?” . . . Much too harsh!

Cabbage:
I for sure love that lawyer talk you talk, Pinkie!

Pinkie:
Thanks for sayin’ that, Cabbage, I do appreciate it for sure.

Tenderboy, with admiration:
You say you are a pure for sure lawyer, Pinkie? Wowww! Only time I got to talk to a real genuine lawyer was when I was up on that bum B&E rap. And that lawyer had a real unfortunate accident after he got me off.

Martha:
How come Big Al had your lawyer iced anyhow?

Everyone gasps. Pinkie grabs Martha by the collar.

Pinkie:
What you name, boy?

Martha, afraid:
Martha.

Pinkie:
Well, listen here, Martha! When ya gonna learn you don’t never — as in never — take the name of the big boss Big Al in vain? Now don’t never let that happen again, hear! Big Al is an upstandin’ businessman, a pillar’a the community, dealin’ in works of art replicas of pictures of some of our greatest presidents, on numbered wallet-sized engravin’s. Got it?

Martha, terrified:
Ya . . . yes . . . yes, Mr. Pinkie, sir! I didn’t mean to . . .

Pinkie, pushing him aside:
Get outta my sight, and don’t you never say sumpin’ like that ever again!

Martha runs off stage, frightened.

Tenderboy:
Pinkie, doncha think you was a bit severe with the boy?

Pinkie:
Severe? Look, Tenderboy, I’ll give you severe! Kid runnin’ off at the mouth could get us all killed.

Tenderboy:
Martha ain't gonna go talk to no cops, I can vouch for that, Pinkie.

Pinkie:
I ain't talking about the cops! If ever Big Al heard that some of our wise guys was runnin’ around sayin’ he had someone iced . . . well, just use your imagination a bit, I beg of you.
(pauses)
Anyhow, what kinda name is Martha for a guy anyhow?

Cabbage:
Martha’s mom, she bad wanted a baby girl. That’s really all she ever wanted outta life. And it wasn’t for lack of effort, I tell ya — she had twenty-five . . . no wait . . . twenty-six kids. And here she was disappointed again. So she calls him Martha anyways.

Pinkie:
There’s a moral somewhere deep down in that story, I am for sure, Cabbage. Likely real deep. Unavailable, maybe.

Cabbage:
Speakin’a Big Al — which we all do with the greatest’a reverence and love, of course — why ain't we seen him around of late?

Download sample:  Mobsters Wink

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