Rob Zimmermann encouraged me write a sequel to a short play I wrote titled, Suicide Pact. I had some inspiration over the last couple weeks and decided to give it a try.
A small apartment with a broken television.
Image Source: Flickr
(VINCE sorts through a collection of butcher knives while THRASH measures poison.)
VINCE: Dude, we’ll never become famous artists.
THRASH: Let’s hurry up and become famous for murder. It’s a lot easier.
VINCE: We’ve got to finesse it a little.
VINCE: People kill each other all the time. We have to stand out.
THRASH: So, we eat people?
VINCE: We tried that; they taste awful.
THRASH: That’s why we decapitate them first.
VINCE: I don’t understand how that helps.
THRASH: People guilt trip you when they have heads. I’ve got enough on my conscious without making eye contact and feeling awkward.
VINCE: There’s a problem.
THRASH: What’s that?
VINCE: We have no car and one roller skate.
THRASH: What happened to the other?
VINCE: I sold it for ramen.
THRASH: Why would they buy a single roller skate?
VINCE: Some people aren’t so plegic as you and I.
THRASH: (understandingly.) I see. What else can we move on?
VINCE: I found a pogo stick in the closet.
THRASH: We’re going on a rampage with one roller skate and a pogo stick?
VINCE: I thought you could hang onto me while I bounce.
THRASH: That could work.
(THRASH fastens a roller skate as VINCE climbs on the pogo stick.)
VINCE: Let’s ride!
THRASH: (hanging onto Vince for support.) How do we kill people like this?
VINCE: Snap their necks. Everyone will talk about the Roller Pogo killers and their neck snapping mayhem.
THRASH: I don’t know how to snap someone’s neck.
VINCE: Gimli snapped orc necks in Lord of the Rings. People are like orcs, right?
THRASH: I suppose their anatomy is similar. (They bounce and roll their way outside.) Who do we kill first?
VINCE: How about that lonely soul in blue? No one will remember him.
THRASH: Vince, I think that’s a police officer. (VINCE hops forward dragging THRASH.) Hey, stop! Vince! There’s a squirrel.
VINCE: Don’t worry, we won’t hit it.
(VINCE collides with the squirrel before stopping; THRASH skids into the police car.)
POLICEMAN: (getting out of his cruiser.) The both of you have a lot of explaining to do.
VINCE: (crying.) I’m so sorry, officer. I never meant to hurt a squirrel. I just wanted to be infamous for murder.
POLICEMAN: Are either of you currently employed?
VINCE and THRASH: We’re artists!
POLICEMAN: But how do you support yourselves?
VINCE: I’m a substitute teacher for cats.
THRASH: I count bones at the landfill.
POLICEMAN: I don’t think those are real jobs.
VINCE: Well, they don’t strictly pay us.
THRASH: It’s more of a hobby.
VINCE: I think of myself as an intern.
THRASH: Freelance. Here’s my card.
(THRASH hands him his business card.)
POLICEMAN: I’m taking both of you in.
VINCE: Will you tell the other cops about us?
THRASH: We want them to remember our names.
POLICEMAN: I’m sure they will never forget them.
© Ben Ditmars 2014