hooray for plays
The scene: A plain white room, empty except for a table in the middle with one chair. Sitting in that chair is a nameless man, who we will call A. He is leaning back in the chair and reading a book. Another man (B) is standing at the Stage Left wall, his whole body pressed firmly up against it, as if he were attached to it. There is a single door on the back wall, USL.
B: So, how’s it going?
A: [eyes never moving from the book] I’m doing alright. You?
B: Oh, I’m fine. Y’know, just the usual.
A: That’s good.
B: Yeah.
(long pause)
B: Actually, I’m glued to the wall.
A: I know.
B: Really?
A: Yep.
B: Are you sure? I mean, I really wanted to see the look on your face when-
A: Nope, I already knew.
B: Oh.
(pause)
A: I mean, I’m the one who glued you there.
B: Yeah, I guess you’re right.
A: Of course I’m right. I think I would know when I’ve glued someone to a wall. Idiot.
B: Don’t call me an idiot.
A: I can call you whatever I want. You’re glued to a wall.
B: So?
A: So, you’re powerless.
B: I can break free.
A: No, you can’t.
B: I can tear off my clothes. You didn’t glue my skin to the wall.
A: Yeah, but then you’d be naked.
B: I’d have my boxers on.
A: Fine, you’d be almost naked.
B: So what?
A: I don’t want to see you running around in your fuckin’ underwear.
B: Well, you can’t stop me from tearing my clothes off. So I guess you’re the powerless one.
A: Shit.
B: Why’d you glue me here, anyway?
A: Well, I was too lazy to drag you back to my house, so I figured I’d just do it in your own basement.
B: No, I mean, why did you glue me to a wall?
A: Oh. ‘Cause you’re an asshole.
B: An asshole? How am I an asshole?
[the following exchange takes place in a rapid-fire back and forth fashion]
A: [puts the book down, gets up and approaches B] Well, let’s see… how’s this for starters: you killed my wife.
B: Bullshit! I had no reason to kill your wife.
A: Bullshit! I hired you to kill her.
B: Bullshit! You hired to me to kill your grandmother!
A: Bullshit! I married my grandmother!
B: Dammit!
A: HAH!
(pause. A moves back to the table and sits down again)
B: Wait, you married your grandmother?
A: Yeah.
B: Why would you do that?
A: [picking up the book, starting to read again] That’s none of your business.
B: Come on…
A: No.
B: I’ll tear my clothes off.
A: [slams the book down on the table] Dammit! You tricky bastard. Fine. [he stands up, begins to pace] Do you want the long version or the short version?
B: I don’t care. Long is fine.
A: Alright then. [A moves to DSR, lights dim, spotlight on A. Battle sounds can be heard lightly in the background] It was the summer of 1969. Those were troubling days. The Vietnam War was in full swing, and my unit was positioned on the banks of-
B: Okay, okay. Stop. Stop. [Battle sounds and spotlight cut off, lights up again] I changed my mind. I’ll take the short version.
A: Alright. [moves back to the table, sits down again] I married my grandmother for the inheritance money.
B: What?
A: That’s right. She was one wealthy old bitch. When she died, she was gonna leave my parents a fortune. But I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted that money. So I knew what I had to do.
B: You had to marry your grandmother and then have her killed?
A: Exactly!
B: I don’t get it… why didn’t you just have your parents killed instead?
A: What!? Have my parents killed? That’s fucking sick.
B: Right.
A: Plus, it looks too suspicious.
B: Isn’t it illegal to marry your own grandmother?
A: Isn’t it illegal to glue someone to a wall?
B: Touche. But how did you even get her to marry you? Didn’t she know you were her grandson?
A: Nah, she couldn’t remember shit. She had Alzheimer’s or something.
B: [disgusted] You’re insane.
A: Hey, you’re the one who killed her.
B: It’s my job. You’re the one who married her and then ordered her execution.
A: Oh yeah, well, at least I’m not the one who glues people to walls!
B: Actually, you are.
A: [Slams fist down on table] Dammit! You’re right! I am insane! (pause) Ah well, what can do you do, y’know? It’s so easy to go crazy nowadays. (takes out a pack of cigarettes, lights one) So tell me how she went.
B: What?
A: (smokes) Y’know, tell me how the old lady went. How you killed her.
B: Why do you care?
A: Look, if you pay someone to repair your roof, is it rude to ask how the job went?
B: That’s a dumb analogy.
A: Just tell me how it went.
B: Fine. It was pretty easy. Nursing home security is lax these days. I just told them I was her grandson.
A: Nice.
B: When I found her in her room, she was watching TV.
A: What was on?
B: I dunno, one of those scrambled channels.
A: Scrambled?
B: You know, the pay channels. The color’s all messed up and the picture’s choppy and there’s no way to figure out what’s going on unless you look really closely at it. That sort of thing.
(pause while A attempts to comprehend this)
A: So… she was watching porn?
B: What? No! I mean, I don’t know. It could’ve been a pay-per-view movie or something. She probably didn’t put it on anyway.
A: Fine, whatever. So what happened then?
B: Well, she turned and looked up at me when I came in.
A: Did she say anything?
B: She asked me if I was her son.
A: What’d you say to that?
B: I couldn’t really think of anything to say. So I just shot her in the head.
A: Silencer?
B: Yeah.
A: That’s the way to go.
B: I still can’t believe you wanted me to murder a defenseless old woman. I don’t normally do senior citizens.
A: Who cares? Did you see the people in that nursing home? They can’t wait to die, it’s so miserable there.
B: I guess you’re right. (pause) So, seriously, why’d you glue me to the wall? You wanted your wife dead.
A: Wife-slash-grandmother.
B: Whatever.
A: You’re right. I did want her dead. And I hired you to kill her. But that’s not the whole story.
B: It isn’t?
A: No. I also hired you to kill ME!
B: Shit! I forgot about that!
A: HAH!
B: Wait, why the hell would you hire me to kill you?
A: Why the hell NOT?
B: Because then you’d be dead!
A: [throws the table over in a fit of rage, starts pacing angrily] Dammit! You’re right again! Fuck, how come I keep forgetting these things?
B: Because you’re insane?
A: [brightens up] Ah yes! Thanks for reminding me.
B: My pleasure.
A: So, where was I? Oh yes. I hired you to kill me, just for the hell of it. Then, when I realized you weren’t going to, I got pretty pissed off. So, I did what any other reasonable person would do.
B: You snuck into my house, knocked me over the head with a blunt object, and then glued me to a wall while I was unconscious?
A: Exactly! Man, you’re good.
B: Well, I am a contract killer.
A: Touche.
B: So what are you gonna do with me?
A: What do you mean?
B: Are you gonna kill me?
A: Nah, I wouldn’t do that.
B: So you’re gonna let me go?
A: I can’t let you go. I hired you to kill me.
B: Well, you can always cancel that part. You’re the one that hired me.
A: Nah, too much work.
B: So you’re just gonna keep me glued here forever?
A: Maybe. I kinda like it here. You have a nice house.
B: Thanks. I decorated it myself.
(a pause)
A: I’m confused about one thing, though.
B: What?
A: Well, remember how you said you could just tear off your clothes and escape at any time?
B: Yeah?
A: Well, why don’t you? I mean, you’re in your own house.
B: Oh. That’s pretty simple. You see, there’s a few things you don’t know.
A: Really?
B: For example, I never killed your wife.
A: Wife-slash-grandmother.
B: [at the same time as A says it] Grandmother, I know.
A: Anyway, you’re lying. That’s impossible.
B: It’s true.
A: But… I got a call from the cops and everything…
B: Yeah, you would have.
A: I don’t understand.
B: Also, this isn’t my house. It’s a police station.
A: Oh. Well, that would explain why there were so many cops in it.
B: Yeah.
A: So that means we’re in…
B: An interrogation room.
A: I glued you to the wall of an interrogation room?
B: Basically.
A: But why would a contract killer live in a police station?
B: [almost speechless] No, I’m- God, you’re such a moron.
[cops bust through the door, immediately run over to A and beat him with nightsticks. He crumples into a heap on the floor while they continue beating him. He screams throughout. A high-ranking officer walks through the door and approaches B]
Officer: That was a fine job, Morley. We got the whole confession on tape.
B: Thanks.
Officer: You’re one hell of an undercover agent, you know that?
B: Thank you, sir.
Officer: Thanks for taking one for the team.
B: No problem, sir. My head hurts a little, but I’m alright.
[the officer begins to walk back to the door. The other cops are still beating A severely. He is still screaming.]
B: Sir?
Officer: [turning back to B] Yes, Morley?
B: I was just wondering… did you really have to let him hit me on the head like that? Couldn’t we have just arrested him and interrogated him the normal way?
Officer: Hah. Oh Morley. You have so much to learn. [laughs, walks out the door]
B: [calling after him] Wait… Sir? Sir!? Hey, is someone gonna get me off this wall? Hello? HELLO?
[fade to blackout]
B: So, how’s it going?
A: [eyes never moving from the book] I’m doing alright. You?
B: Oh, I’m fine. Y’know, just the usual.
A: That’s good.
B: Yeah.
(long pause)
B: Actually, I’m glued to the wall.
A: I know.
B: Really?
A: Yep.
B: Are you sure? I mean, I really wanted to see the look on your face when-
A: Nope, I already knew.
B: Oh.
(pause)
A: I mean, I’m the one who glued you there.
B: Yeah, I guess you’re right.
A: Of course I’m right. I think I would know when I’ve glued someone to a wall. Idiot.
B: Don’t call me an idiot.
A: I can call you whatever I want. You’re glued to a wall.
B: So?
A: So, you’re powerless.
B: I can break free.
A: No, you can’t.
B: I can tear off my clothes. You didn’t glue my skin to the wall.
A: Yeah, but then you’d be naked.
B: I’d have my boxers on.
A: Fine, you’d be almost naked.
B: So what?
A: I don’t want to see you running around in your fuckin’ underwear.
B: Well, you can’t stop me from tearing my clothes off. So I guess you’re the powerless one.
A: Shit.
B: Why’d you glue me here, anyway?
A: Well, I was too lazy to drag you back to my house, so I figured I’d just do it in your own basement.
B: No, I mean, why did you glue me to a wall?
A: Oh. ‘Cause you’re an asshole.
B: An asshole? How am I an asshole?
[the following exchange takes place in a rapid-fire back and forth fashion]
A: [puts the book down, gets up and approaches B] Well, let’s see… how’s this for starters: you killed my wife.
B: Bullshit! I had no reason to kill your wife.
A: Bullshit! I hired you to kill her.
B: Bullshit! You hired to me to kill your grandmother!
A: Bullshit! I married my grandmother!
B: Dammit!
A: HAH!
(pause. A moves back to the table and sits down again)
B: Wait, you married your grandmother?
A: Yeah.
B: Why would you do that?
A: [picking up the book, starting to read again] That’s none of your business.
B: Come on…
A: No.
B: I’ll tear my clothes off.
A: [slams the book down on the table] Dammit! You tricky bastard. Fine. [he stands up, begins to pace] Do you want the long version or the short version?
B: I don’t care. Long is fine.
A: Alright then. [A moves to DSR, lights dim, spotlight on A. Battle sounds can be heard lightly in the background] It was the summer of 1969. Those were troubling days. The Vietnam War was in full swing, and my unit was positioned on the banks of-
B: Okay, okay. Stop. Stop. [Battle sounds and spotlight cut off, lights up again] I changed my mind. I’ll take the short version.
A: Alright. [moves back to the table, sits down again] I married my grandmother for the inheritance money.
B: What?
A: That’s right. She was one wealthy old bitch. When she died, she was gonna leave my parents a fortune. But I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted that money. So I knew what I had to do.
B: You had to marry your grandmother and then have her killed?
A: Exactly!
B: I don’t get it… why didn’t you just have your parents killed instead?
A: What!? Have my parents killed? That’s fucking sick.
B: Right.
A: Plus, it looks too suspicious.
B: Isn’t it illegal to marry your own grandmother?
A: Isn’t it illegal to glue someone to a wall?
B: Touche. But how did you even get her to marry you? Didn’t she know you were her grandson?
A: Nah, she couldn’t remember shit. She had Alzheimer’s or something.
B: [disgusted] You’re insane.
A: Hey, you’re the one who killed her.
B: It’s my job. You’re the one who married her and then ordered her execution.
A: Oh yeah, well, at least I’m not the one who glues people to walls!
B: Actually, you are.
A: [Slams fist down on table] Dammit! You’re right! I am insane! (pause) Ah well, what can do you do, y’know? It’s so easy to go crazy nowadays. (takes out a pack of cigarettes, lights one) So tell me how she went.
B: What?
A: (smokes) Y’know, tell me how the old lady went. How you killed her.
B: Why do you care?
A: Look, if you pay someone to repair your roof, is it rude to ask how the job went?
B: That’s a dumb analogy.
A: Just tell me how it went.
B: Fine. It was pretty easy. Nursing home security is lax these days. I just told them I was her grandson.
A: Nice.
B: When I found her in her room, she was watching TV.
A: What was on?
B: I dunno, one of those scrambled channels.
A: Scrambled?
B: You know, the pay channels. The color’s all messed up and the picture’s choppy and there’s no way to figure out what’s going on unless you look really closely at it. That sort of thing.
(pause while A attempts to comprehend this)
A: So… she was watching porn?
B: What? No! I mean, I don’t know. It could’ve been a pay-per-view movie or something. She probably didn’t put it on anyway.
A: Fine, whatever. So what happened then?
B: Well, she turned and looked up at me when I came in.
A: Did she say anything?
B: She asked me if I was her son.
A: What’d you say to that?
B: I couldn’t really think of anything to say. So I just shot her in the head.
A: Silencer?
B: Yeah.
A: That’s the way to go.
B: I still can’t believe you wanted me to murder a defenseless old woman. I don’t normally do senior citizens.
A: Who cares? Did you see the people in that nursing home? They can’t wait to die, it’s so miserable there.
B: I guess you’re right. (pause) So, seriously, why’d you glue me to the wall? You wanted your wife dead.
A: Wife-slash-grandmother.
B: Whatever.
A: You’re right. I did want her dead. And I hired you to kill her. But that’s not the whole story.
B: It isn’t?
A: No. I also hired you to kill ME!
B: Shit! I forgot about that!
A: HAH!
B: Wait, why the hell would you hire me to kill you?
A: Why the hell NOT?
B: Because then you’d be dead!
A: [throws the table over in a fit of rage, starts pacing angrily] Dammit! You’re right again! Fuck, how come I keep forgetting these things?
B: Because you’re insane?
A: [brightens up] Ah yes! Thanks for reminding me.
B: My pleasure.
A: So, where was I? Oh yes. I hired you to kill me, just for the hell of it. Then, when I realized you weren’t going to, I got pretty pissed off. So, I did what any other reasonable person would do.
B: You snuck into my house, knocked me over the head with a blunt object, and then glued me to a wall while I was unconscious?
A: Exactly! Man, you’re good.
B: Well, I am a contract killer.
A: Touche.
B: So what are you gonna do with me?
A: What do you mean?
B: Are you gonna kill me?
A: Nah, I wouldn’t do that.
B: So you’re gonna let me go?
A: I can’t let you go. I hired you to kill me.
B: Well, you can always cancel that part. You’re the one that hired me.
A: Nah, too much work.
B: So you’re just gonna keep me glued here forever?
A: Maybe. I kinda like it here. You have a nice house.
B: Thanks. I decorated it myself.
(a pause)
A: I’m confused about one thing, though.
B: What?
A: Well, remember how you said you could just tear off your clothes and escape at any time?
B: Yeah?
A: Well, why don’t you? I mean, you’re in your own house.
B: Oh. That’s pretty simple. You see, there’s a few things you don’t know.
A: Really?
B: For example, I never killed your wife.
A: Wife-slash-grandmother.
B: [at the same time as A says it] Grandmother, I know.
A: Anyway, you’re lying. That’s impossible.
B: It’s true.
A: But… I got a call from the cops and everything…
B: Yeah, you would have.
A: I don’t understand.
B: Also, this isn’t my house. It’s a police station.
A: Oh. Well, that would explain why there were so many cops in it.
B: Yeah.
A: So that means we’re in…
B: An interrogation room.
A: I glued you to the wall of an interrogation room?
B: Basically.
A: But why would a contract killer live in a police station?
B: [almost speechless] No, I’m- God, you’re such a moron.
[cops bust through the door, immediately run over to A and beat him with nightsticks. He crumples into a heap on the floor while they continue beating him. He screams throughout. A high-ranking officer walks through the door and approaches B]
Officer: That was a fine job, Morley. We got the whole confession on tape.
B: Thanks.
Officer: You’re one hell of an undercover agent, you know that?
B: Thank you, sir.
Officer: Thanks for taking one for the team.
B: No problem, sir. My head hurts a little, but I’m alright.
[the officer begins to walk back to the door. The other cops are still beating A severely. He is still screaming.]
B: Sir?
Officer: [turning back to B] Yes, Morley?
B: I was just wondering… did you really have to let him hit me on the head like that? Couldn’t we have just arrested him and interrogated him the normal way?
Officer: Hah. Oh Morley. You have so much to learn. [laughs, walks out the door]
B: [calling after him] Wait… Sir? Sir!? Hey, is someone gonna get me off this wall? Hello? HELLO?
[fade to blackout]