===================================================================== I WANNA HOLD YOUR CRAWLING HAND ===================================================================== a one-act play by Joe Blevins (joeblev@concentric.net) ===================================================================== based on the movie "The Crawling Hand" ===================================================================== [Curtain rises. Lights up. The stage is apparently barren apart from a plain black backdrop and a barstool.] [A man walks out, looking worn and frazzled. This is movie director HERBERT L. STROCK ("HERB"), 48 years old and a veteran of the biz. His sleeves are rolled up and his shirt is unbuttoned about halfway down. A Pall Mall dangles carelessly from his lip. He carries an empty paper cup in one hand, a script in the other. He faces the audience, apparently addressing an unseen crew.] HERB: Okay, folks, are we ready to shoot this thing or what? Sound, camera, you ready? [pause] Where's my actor? Where's Ted? OFFSTAGE CREW PERSON: I don't know, Herb. HERB: Well, that's just great! We're shooting a movie here! This thing's supposed to be playing at a drive-in in Tulsa by next Thursday. [Herb crumples up the paper cup and tosses it across the stage. We hear approaching footsteps. Herb turns and addresses someone off- stage.] HERB: Well, there you are! Listen, Marlon Brando, in case you didn't know, we're supposed to be filming "The Crawling Hand" here. Or "The Creeping Hand... or "Tomorrow You Die." Or "Don't Cry Wolf." I haven't made my mind up yet about the title. Anyway, where've you been? [We hear the voice of an ACTOR offstage.] ACTOR'S VOICE: In makeup. Look, Herb, I can't come out looking like this in front of everybody. HERB: And why in the Hell not? ACTOR'S VOICE: Herb, I look ridiculous! This make-up. It... it's silly! HERB: Oh, what are you talking about? It looks fine. Come out here! [The ACTOR walks out, looking utterly ridiculous. He's wearing a collarless, one-piece gray jumpsuit that looks like something Pat Benetar might wear in a video. His hair has been combed straight up and sprayed so it'll stay that way. His face is covered in clown white, and there are huge dark circles painted around is eyes. His lips have been painted black, and there has been dark makeup applied to his cheeks to make his face a hollow, gaunt look. The sum total of all this is that he looks like Bozo the Space Prostitute. He, too, carries a copy of the script.] ACTOR: Herb, this is embarrassing. HERB: Ted, trust me. It'll look great on-camera. ACTOR: My name's not Ted. HERB: I call all my actors Ted. ACTOR: Oh. [pause] Hey, where's the lunar rocket set? HERB: This is it. ACTOR: This? This isn't a set. This is a wall and a chair. Where's all the computers and monitors and switches and dials? HERB: Ted, baby, relax! Your scenes are going to be playing on a monitor in a control room that's just filled with that kind of stuff. You've never seen so many switches and dials in your life. ACTOR: Oh, okay. But I'm still a little puzzled about some of this dialogue I'm supposed to say. [he opens the script and flips through it; then reads in a calm voice] "Push the red. Kill, kill. Doc, Steve, you've gotta help me. Push the red. Seventy thousand. It makes my arm do things. Push the red." [pause] You call that dialogue? It makes no sense! HERB: Well, sure... if you read it like that. You've gotta SELL these lines, Teddy-baby. You gotta pretend like you're Kirk Douglas. ACTOR: Kirk Douglas? HERB: Yeah. Kirk Douglas passing a kidney stone. Like this. [reads the lines in an over-the-top melodramatic fashion] "PUSH THE RED! KILL! KILL!!!!! DOC, STEVE, YOU'VE GOTTA HELP ME!!!! SEVENTY THOUSAND!!!!" [pause] Like that. You got it? ACTOR: I think so. [practices] "PUSH THE RED!!!! KILL!!! KILL!!!!" HERB: Now you're gettin' it, Ted. Okay, let's do this thing. We got eighty more scenes to film today. [Just then, young heartthrob actor ROD LAUREN enters. He, too, is clutching a copy of the script and seems concerned.] ROD: Wait! Wait, Mr. Strock! HERB: [annoyed] Aw, geez! What is it now, huh? ROD: I've got some problems with the script. HERB: You've got problems, too? What is this, a mutiny? Who are you, anyway? ROD: Uh, I'm Rod Lauren. [pause] I'm playing Paul, the male lead your movie. HERB: Oh, right. The kid. What's your problem with the script? ROD: Well, I guess I don't get it. HERB: What is there to get? A hand crawls around and kills people! ROD: That's just it. How could a hand do all that? I mean, it wouldn't have a brain. And how would it have enough leverage? I'm not even sure how it manages to crawl. [The other actor chimes in.] ACTOR: Yeah, he's got a point, Herb. How can a disembodied hand really do much of anything? HERB: [sighs] All right. All right already. You want me to explain how? I'll explain how. Hit it, Morty! [Music starts. Lights dim, and a spotlight follows Herb as he sings and struts around the stage. A very familiar melody begins.] HERB: [sings] Who can strangle victims Every single night, Then be stored in Tupperware, All sealed up nice and tight? ACTORS: The crawling hand? HERB: Yes, the crawling hand can! The crawling hand can, 'Cause he's just a human arm With some weird space disease! [A gruff, union-protected CREW MEMBER enters and takes over the song.] CREW MEMBER: Who can hide in closets, Underneath a bed, In a glove compartment Or behind a loaf of bread? ALL: The crawling hand! Oh, the crawling hand can! CREW MEMBER: The crawling hand can, Plus he's got some kind of power Of hypnosis, too! [Rod Lauren and the space hooker run downstage to sing the bridge.] ACTORS: The crawling hand makes People who are flakes Do his sick and twisted bidding. HERB: And believe me, folks, I'm not just kidding. He can even do some knitting! ACTORS: Wow! [Suddenly, many other ACTORS, ACTRESSES, and CREW PEOPLE come out to sing the big musical finale. They form a kickline.] ALL: Who can gouge your eyes out With his evil thumb? Yeah, you've prob'ly guessed it, Though it might seem pretty dumb, The crawling hand! Yes, the crawling hand can! [The music slows down. Herb Strock steps forward.] HERB: And the crawling hand can 'Cause this cockamamie script says so! [A GROUCHY OLD MAN walks out onto the stage, pushing a broom.] GROUCHY OLD MAN: No Broadway-style production numbers! Not allowed! [Music dies down. The cast looks dejected.] [Lights dim. Curtain falls.] [THE END]