===================================================================== RIDING WITH DEATH ON LONG ISLAND ===================================================================== a one-act play by Craig J. Clark (cjclark@earthlink.net) ===================================================================== based on the movie "Riding with Death" ===================================================================== [Lights up on the cab of a big rig. This can be suggested by the presence of two chairs on a platform and judicious lighting, or you can go whole hog and put the cab of an actual big rig on your stage. (Hey, they fit an entire helicopter in "Miss Saigon," didn't they?) Whichever way you decide to go, the rig is being driven by a middle- aged, quite over-the-hill SAM CASEY, who is of course played by Ben Murphy. In the passenger seat is GILES DE'ATH, an eccentric, reclusive British author and widower, played by the one and only John Hurt. As the action begins, they are listening to execrable country music -- a painful rendition of "I'm on There." SAM is enjoying it, but DE'ATH is clearly experiencing the musical equivalent of nails on a chalk board. After an excruciating minute or so -- for the audience as well as the character -- he turns to SAM.] DE'ATH: I say, Sam. I'm very grateful to you for giving me a lift and all that entails-- SAM: Hey, when I saw you walking along the side of the road like that, what else could I do? DE'ATH: You could have just driven on. Most people do. SAM: Yeah, well I'm not most people. And neither are you, apparently. Have you really been walking all over Long Island? DE'ATH: No, just Chesterton. And I have the blisters to prove it. Now, Sam-- SAM: Well, it's lucky for you I had to make a delivery in this area. [pulls out a clipboard] Say, you wouldn't happen to know where Chez D'Irv is, would you? DE'ATH: As a matter of fact, I do. First things first, though-- SAM: Great. Then you can give me directions. DE'ATH: All right. But first would you mind turning off that infernal racket? SAM: What racket? [motions to radio] Oh, you mean this? Why, this is one of my best buddies in the whole world, Buffalo Bill Joe Hickens. This 8-Track is all I have to remember him by. DE'ATH: What, is he dead? SAM: No, it's just that this is the only album he ever put out. DE'ATH: Yes, I would imagine so. SAM: If it bothers you that much, I'll turn it off. DE'ATH: Thank you. [Much to DE'ATH's -- and the audience's -- relief, SAM does turn the "music" off. He ejects the 8-Track, looks at it and sighs. He then unceremoniously tosses it into the rear of the cab. They drive on in silence long enough for DE'ATH to get uncomfortable enough to ask a question.] DE'ATH: So, do you get to see your friend often? SAM: Only when my work takes me down his way. DE'ATH: You mean when you have a shipment that passes through his town? SAM: Yes, and other things. Of course, I usually get to see more of him than he does of me. [SAM laughs privately, but not privately enough as DE'ATH stares at him, eyebrows raised.] SAM: Hey, want me to show you something amazing? [Before DE'ATH can answer, lights go up on DR. ABBY LAWRENCE, who is isolated in some sort of control center-type place. She has a screen in front of her, upon which she is watching the action of the play unfold. I don't know why I'm going into all this detail since all she says is:] ABBY: Don't do it, Sam. [The lights go down on her again. Action resumes in the cab.] DE'ATH: If you like. SAM: Okay, watch me. [DE'ATH watches as SAM hits the button on his watch and -- through the magic of stagecraft -- completely fails to turn invisible. DE'ATH stares at him for a few seconds.] DE'ATH: What? SAM: I'll bet you're wondering what happened to me. DE'ATH: Uhh, yes. SAM: I've turned invisible. DE'ATH: Ah, I see. Tell you what, you can drop me off anywhere along here-- [He turns to open the door but SAM restrains him.] SAM: Don't be alarmed; I'm still here. DE'ATH: Well, of course you are. Where else would you be? [SAM is nonplussed that DE'ATH is taking this all in stride.] SAM: I just figured you'd be, I don't know, surprised, by my disembodied voice and stuff. DE'ATH: No, it's nothing like that. I'd just like you to let me out here. SAM: You don't think I'm unhuman or unnatural, do you? [Lights up on ABBY again.] ABBY: Sam, I told you. Your supernatural powers went away years ago. You're no longer an agent for Intersect. You're just a washed-up, over-the-hill trucker. Oh, I hope he doesn't take off his clothes again. [Light down on ABBY. DE'ATH is gesturing out the window.] DE'ATH: No. Really. This just looks like a nice... something or other. SAM: Look, would it help you to mellow out if I re-stabilized my DNA? DE'ATH: Uhh... [SAM presses the button on his watch again.] SAM: See? I'm back. Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. DE'ATH: That's all right. [There is a long pause, until DE'ATH -- very reluctantly -- pops the question.] DE'ATH: So how did you develop the ability to turn invisible? SAM: Funny you should ask. Well, it all started a long time ago, back in the seventies... DE'ATH: Of course it did. [Lights up on ABBY.] ABBY: Sam, stop it. You're just embarrassing yourself. Don't you realize how foolish you're acting? Pretending you can turn invisible when you haven't been able to for decades? Why, it's almost as bad as talking to someone who's hundreds of miles away and therefore incapable of hearing anything you...say... Uhh, Sam? I gotta go. From here on out, you're on your own. [She turns off the monitor and the lights go down on her for the last time. Meanwhile, in the cab, SAM is just finishing his story.] SAM: And that's how it happened. DE'ATH: I see. Interesting. SAM: Yeah, that's what they all say. DE'ATH: They? You mean you've told others? SAM: Yes. DE'ATH: But isn't this supposed to be some sort of top secret government project? SAM: Why, of course it is. That's why I can't let you go. [Suddenly DE'ATH's eyes bug out.] DE'ATH: What? You mean you're going to-- SAM: Make you swear that you'll never tell another living soul? That's right. DE'ATH: [breathing a sigh of relief] Oh, good. For a minute there I thought-- SAM: Besides, you still have to direct me to Chez D'Irv. DE'ATH: Er, right. [deciding to play along] Sam, there's something that bothers me about your story. Perhaps you can clear it up for me. SAM: Sure. What is it? DE'ATH: How is it that your clothes disappear as well? After all, they weren't affected by the radiation, were they? SAM: No. If I remember correctly, it had something to do with the invisibility spreading out from my body...or something. Hey, let's try an experiment. [He starts to pull the truck over to the side of the road. DE'ATH, seeing his chance to escape, tries to act cool.] DE'ATH: What sort of experiment? SAM: It's simple. I'm going to turn invisible. Then I'm going to remove an item of my clothing. Then you can tell me whether it stays invisible or not. [SAM has brought the truck to a stop at the side of the road. Cars and other trucks whiz past, some of them honking their horns.] SAM: Okay, you ready? DE'ATH: As I'll ever be. SAM: Let's start with something simple. Like my-- DE'ATH: Shirt? SAM: No, I was thinking about my shoes. [SAM reaches down and removes his shoes. He hands them to DE'ATH.] SAM: Well? DE'ATH: Well, what? SAM: Did they stay invisible? DE'ATH: No. SAM: You mean you can see them? DE'ATH: Yes, because _you_ never turned invisible in the first place. SAM: Oh, wow! Did I? I feel like such a turkey. [He presses the button on his watch. It, of course, does nothing.] SAM: There. DE'ATH: Uh huh. So what's next? Your shirt, perhaps? SAM: No, I'm going to take off my pants. DE'ATH: What??? SAM: Oh, come on. It's not like you can see me or anything. [He takes off his belt and unbuttons his fly.] DE'ATH: But what about your socks? Shouldn't they come off before the pants? SAM: Ordinarily they would. But today I'm not wearing any. [SAM allows DE'ATH to chew on this while he works his pants off. Finally, he hands them to a perplexed DE'ATH.] SAM: So, what happened? Are they still invisible? DE'ATH: [out of his depth] Sam, I don't know what to tell you. SAM: Okay, time for the underwear. [Before DE'ATH can object, SAM wriggles out of his underwear. It is at this point that it would probably be best for all involved if the action were taking place in a real cab as opposed to just two chairs on a platform, because then the audience would get more than they bargained for out of Ben Murphy's performance. Anyway, SAM takes the underwear and twirls it on his finger.] SAM: Woo hoo! Can you see this? Can you see what I'm doing? Can you see this? [SAM flings the underwear off his finger and it hits DE'ATH in the face. DE'ATH is mortified.] SAM: And now, what you've been waiting so patiently for -- off with the shirt! [SAM starts to remove his shirt, and when he has it up over his head DE'ATH throws SAM's clothing into the back of the cab and opens the passenger side door.] DE'ATH: Ronnie Bostock, my love, I'm coming! SAM: Hey, who are you talking to? [DE'ATH leaps out of the cab as it is illuminated by the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, which also sounds its horn. SAM finishes removing his shirt in time to see what it is.] SAM: Oh, my God! It's coming right at us! [He looks over and realizes that DE'ATH has fled.] SAM: Oh, my God! It's coming right at ME!!! [SAM screams and raises his arms in a futile defensive gesture as he and his truck are run over by a MAMMOTH TRUCK(tm). Blackout.] T H E E N D ===================================================================== THE MST3K ONE-ACT PLAYS BY CRAIG J. CLARK ===================================================================== [815] Re-Animation Agent for H.A.R.M. [816/906] The Prince of Space Children [817] The Mild Apprehension of Party Beach [901] The Alan Parsons Projected Man [902] Phantom Planet, Schmanet or: The Next-to-the-Last of the Dogmen [903] Strong Enough for a Puma Man... [904] Where Wolf? There Wolf! [905] The Deadly B-Sides [907] Hobgoblins 2: The Grue Batch [908] Analyze What? or: The Bad Touch of Satan You can read these one-act plays and more at http://home.earthlink.net/~cjclark/mstplays.htm