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ACT I (cont...)

[BABE pulls the curtain revealing SMITTY drinking martinis at a bar. He's got on cowboy boots and what once was a nice leather jacket.]

BABE: Roy P. Smith. Smith Sales Group.

SMITTY: Hey ya big faggot!

BABE: Affectionately called Smitty.

JOHN: That's right, I made an appointment with…

SMITTY: Come on over here you little spook! [Laughs.]

JOHN: Make up your mind Smitty, am I a big faggot or a little spook?

SMITTY: Neither! You're a spineless wap! HA!

BABE: Smitty holds the record for being offensive. Clocked at 5.25 seconds.

[BABE exits.]

JOHN: How are ya Smitty?

SMITTY: Stick a fork in me and I'd still be pink-- I aint done YET Johnny boy.

JOHN: Well that's why I came here Smitty-- man have I got a deal for--

SMITTY: [Farts.] Hey! Get us a drink over here! Get us a drink! I had a few while I was waitin' for your slow butt--

JOHN: No doubt, say what would you say to--

SMITTY: Business is going great John. Territory's all locked up-- Lotta young buyers, ‘bout your age-- give me a whole lotta crap for still drinkin' martinis, as if they'd know what to do with a martini if it crawled up their precious little--

JOHN: Listen Smitty, what I want to…

SMITTY: Oh! Johnny! You gotta come by the house today and see my new rompin' stompin' laser disk stereo surround sound cinema thingy I got…

JOHN: Oh yea?

SMITTY: Oh yea!

JOHN: Ya know I got…

SMITTY: Got every James Bond movie on laser disc. I-am-so-glad-he-is-back!

JOHN: Ya know Smitty—

SMITTY: Ya gotta love movies with lots of gadgets, fast cars, and girls with big gozangas.

JOHN: Smitty I…

SMITTY: I want to be entertained for cryin' out loud!

JOHN: Smitty…

SMITTY: Bond. James Bond.

JOHN: Smit…

SMITTY: Am I right Johnny? Hey, I'm doin' all the talking here!

JOHN: Smitty! I'm not here to move in on your territory.

SMITTY: [After a beat.] Yea? Well who said you were? Getting' a drink around here is like passing a kidney stone.

[BABE is passing by in a tight "Pooters" outfit and carrying a tray.]

SMITTY: Hey honey we're thirsty! One thing about these Pooters, the women be fast but the service be slow.

BABE: Be right with you!

SMITTY: Look we're not askin' ya to sit on our face--

JOHN: Nothing for me, I'm fine--

SMITTY: I'm a stone over here! I'm the Mojave Desert!

BABE: I'll be right with you! [She exits.]

SMITTY: I think this is Jew bag Pooters.

JOHN: Anyway, back to what I was…

SMITTY: You still sellin' that piss water deck sealant?

JOHN: No I quit repping Limpkin's…

SMITTY: Limpkin's sure-- boy I wish I had a job for you Johnny but--

JOHN: Actually Smitty, I'm getting out of the biz.

SMITTY: Quittin?

JOHN: Well that's what I want to--

SMITTY: What happened? Lose your balls--

JOHN: If you'd let me speak--

SMITTY: Damn boy! You gotta toughen up your nuts! You gotta have tough nuts in this world. You always were a little soft, Johnny. My nuts? My nuts are tough. [He stands.] Here. Punch my nuts. Go ahead…punch ‘em.

JOHN: No. No Smitty I…

SMITTY: Nobody's lookin'. Punch ‘em. They're rocks I tell ya.

JOHN: No Smitty!

SMITTY: Did your father raise a nancey-boy?

[JOHN punches SMITTY in the nuts. SMITTY makes a face.]

JOHN: [His hand is hurt.] Ow! Dammit, Dammit, Dammit Smitty!-- Are you alright?

SMITTY: Hard as my mother's baked scones. Rocks I tell ya.

[SMITTY collapses to the floor.]

JOHN: If you'd just goddammit shut up! Shut up and listen to my damn offer!

BABE: [Entering again in Pooters gear.] Now what can I get you two?

SMITTY: The usual there honey pot.

BABE: I can't serve you if you're on the floor, sir. [To JOHN:] And what about you?

JOHN: [Sharply.] Can you get back to me?

BABE: [Grabbing his face seductively.] Sure. [Then with a slap to the face:] Prick. [She exits.]

JOHN: God help me Smitty--

SMITTY: [Looking after waitress.] I could work up some fries with that shake huh?

JOHN: Smitty? You know what you are? A dinosaur-- A fucking dinosaur--

SMITTY: What's that?

JOHN: Territory's locked up my ass. You think anybody would willingly put up with this crap if they had a choice? Buyers merely tolerate you because you still got a couple decent lines and you buy everybody lunch-- You're an embarrassment! If it wasn't for old money and old connections to the big chains, your phone would be as useless as a door stop-- You're Ice Age, Smitty!-- You have no friends. You never did.

SMITTY: I'm in sales. You have friends? [A beat.] For a split second you looked exactly like your father there. Thirty years ago took off his shoe and started pounding on the buyer's desk. "It may be shit to you mister…

SMITTY and JOHN: …but to us it's bread and butter."

JOHN: Listen, I'm gonna go Smitty.

SMITTY: [Grabbing him.] You got that twinkle John. That—twinkle. You got it.

JOHN: You sure you're alright Smitty?

SMITTY: Sit! I'm gonna hear you out. Buy ya a drink first—you're eye's all twitchin'—you gotta relax. Get us a drink over here! If I sent you outta here like this I'd be getting an earful from your father first thing in the morning—

JOHN: What?

SMITTY: He'd be all over me like stink on crap--

JOHN: Oh my God.


JOHN: Smitty I… I'm sorry…I though you knew…Dad…died last month.

SMITTY: Prostate?

JOHN: Plane crash.

SMITTY: Oh. Well as long as it wasn't that Prostate thing. That's a killer.

[DAD enters in a "Pooter's" outfit with a martini on a tray. JOHN's eye begins twitching.]

DAD: One vodka martini, shaken not stirred. Can I get you boys anything else?

SMITTY: Get him one of these and make my next one a double.

DAD: You better finish that one first huh? [SMITTY takes a drink.] Aaata boy. [Pinching JOHN's cheek.] Aaata boy. [DAD exits.]

[JOHN tries like hell to regain his right mind.]

SMITTY: Now. You got my full attention John. Let's hear it, what ya got to show me?

JOHN: [A beat.] I got ten thousand dollars worth of sample frames in my trunk Want to buy them?

SMITTY: Sure! I'd do anything for your father.

JOHN: All right.

SMITTY: [Raises his glass.] Sold! If it was a logical world Johnny, men would be riding sidesaddle! [He downs his martini, slams it on the bar and feels his gut.] Damn. You ever feel like your liver's turning to stone?


SMITTY: [Gasping.] Good.

[SMITTY keels over and dies, pulling curtain shut.]

BABE: [Offstage:] Power up!

[Loud rock music. BABE enters the hotel room dressed in a robe with a large TV lodged on her head. Her face on the screen is magnified and her voice is amplified.]

BABE: [To audience:] Survival Guide for Salespeople Chapter Three! The Television! The Television can be your friend! Whenever you are NOT occupying your hotel room, the TV should ALWAYS be on and ALWAYS set just a hair below blaringly loud! And most preferably on MTV. [JOHN has entered with a paper sack and pulls out a smoke.] Turn it down! [JOHN turns off TV with a remote. Quieter.] Thank you. Are you smoking?
[JOHN gives her a look like, "What the hell do you think?" To audience:] This especially goes for you sales-women. The sound of a loud TV blaring from a closed door means someone is present, awake and attentive. Any thief/rapist/stalker/murderer/freak etc. is going to think twice before entering a room that emits television noise… [JOHN has taken off his pants and has popped a beer. To JOHN:] Do you mind? Is that a beer?

JOHN: [Guzzles down beer then:] Take that you eye flutter!

BABE: The picture of a man who has given up.

JOHN: Next I'm going to be seeing little green men.

BABE: [Referring to herself.] Thinking about me-- AND the TV?

JOHN: I'm a man. I can be attentive to beer, TV and women all at the same time.

BABE: So a couple of sales fell through. Come on, sell those frames, buy that house, be happy and show me I was wrong!

JOHN: [To audience:] One advantage to being on the road is that you are supreme commander of the remote control.

BABE: [To audience:] Survival Guide for Salespeople Chapter 3 Continued…

JOHN: [Pointing remote at BABE.] Mute. [BABE screams in silence.] Hotel TVs have about a million channels and the TV guide in your room is out of date so just sit back, feet up, and place your thumb squarely on the button that signifies channel ascension. [Pointing remote at BABE.] Mute.

BABE: Ooh. Big man and his big remote.

JOHN: You ready?

BABE: [Putting up a hand to JOHN, then, to the audience:] Notice the steady and precise intervals between thumb depressions. Get the info. Move on. One must see entirely what is being shown on all channels before one can make one's choice. [To JOHN:] You may proceed.

JOHN: Whoohoo Surf's up! [JOHN points remote at BABE. After each "click" the screen signifies a channel change.] Click.

BABE: Killing

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Killing.

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Maiming.

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Something more disturbing than killing or maiming.

JOHN: Click. [BABE and JOHN scream at something horribly disturbing.] Click.

BABE: Barney.

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Betty.

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Don Henley.

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Bad movie.

JOHN: Click.

BABE: MYV video babe.

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Killing.

JOHN: Cli—Wait. Click BACK.

BABE: MTV Video babe, video babe dancing, video babe thrusting, video babe wants, video babe needs, video babe must have… Don Henley?

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Killing.

JOHN: Click.

BABE: Killing.

JOHN: Click! Click! Click!


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Copyright © 2004 by Nick Zagone

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