Aug 16, 2010

Another Little One-Act About Watergate




The second installment of Dylan K. Jackson and I's one-page play series.


Goldiephile
A Play by Jeff Laughlin

Characters:

Smurve W. Karvis-- White Lawyer in his sixties
Marlowe “Rift” Sleevins-- Black prisoner
Bailiff: Older, balding man in his forties

Setting: In an interrogation cell, Karvis is in a suit and tie, Sleevins in an orange jumpsuit. A Bailiff presides over the meeting, staring into the distance.

Slurve: Let me get this straight, you had the goldfish in your bed, you were both completely nude, they found your DNA-- all of this is proof you were framed?

Rift: Yeah, man. Damn cops have wanted me for years. Ever since I claimed citizens arrest on a pig stealing a donut.

Slurve: Ludicrous. I have no case. There’s more evidence against you than I thought was humanly possible.

Rift: You the lawyer, man. You need to figure out how we could make that disappear. Inadmissible that shit.

Slurve: You can’t “inadmissible” something unless it is collected incorrectly, or-- nevermind. Can we just plead insanity? I have a huge workload right now.

Rift (pounds fist on the table): I’M LOOKING AT FIFTEEN LARGE MAN. YOU PLEAD INSANITY.

Slurve: Settle down, settle down. No need to get angry. We just need to figure out an approach. We need to figure out how to make a goldfish fondler glow in the jury’s eyes.

(beat)

Rift: You ever own a goldfish, man?

Slurve: Once, I won one at a county fair. It died before I got home, though.

Rift: That’s a real shame. Didja name it?

Slurve: I named it Ritalin Kiftmangles.

Rift: A Dutch name. I like it. I woulda liked to meet that goldfish. Seems like it was real nice.

Both men sit in silence for awhile. Tears slide down their cheeks. Rift turns toward the window and extends his arm toward the dusklight.

Rift: You think I got a chance to get out, man?

Slurve furrows his brow and collects himself. He shifts toward Rift and breathes in deeply. Rift turns toward him and drops his hand semi-violently. Slurve places his hand on top of Rift’s. He squeezes his hand. They both fight back tears.

Slurve: No. You’re totally screwed.

Bailiff escorts Rift away.

Bailiff (shouting): DEAD MAN WALKING HERE. DEAD MAN WALKING.

Curtain.

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