===================================================================== THIS ISLAND EARTH DOESN'T SHINE FOR ME ANYMORE ===================================================================== a one-act play by Joe Blevins (joeblev@concentric.net) ===================================================================== based on the movie "This Island Earth" ===================================================================== [The stage is darkened. We hear eerie theremin music and the loud, heavily-echoed voice of an announcer.] ANNOUNCER: Somewhere in the far-flung corners of our endlessly vast and fascinating universe lies the tiny planet known as Metaluna -- a shoddy, cut-rate, thorougly disposable world -- the Bob Saget of planets, really. Despite the obvious inferiority of Metaluna, its residents seem curiously devoted to the cause of saving their blighted world from certain doom. To that end, the Metalunans have rounded up two of our Earth's most brilliant and available scientists in a pitiable last-ditch attempt to delay the inevitable. What follows is their story. [Lights up. Curtain rises to reveal Metaluna throne room set. Bit players with gray uniforms, white hair, and bulbous foreheads are running around in a panic. We hear explosions, and there's lots of smoke. It's utter chaos. Standing in the midst of all this are BRACK and EXETER, two Metalunans, and CAL and RUTH, two Earthlings. Cal is beefy and dumb and has a very deep voice. Brack is rather snotty, while Ruth is bland and vague. Only Exter seems to have any admirable personality traits. The whole stage is bathed in blue light, a la K-Mart (another doomed civilization).] EXETER: So you see, Dr. Meachem, we need a vast quantity of uranium to power our forcefield, which protects us from the constant barrage of Zagon meteors. Without uranium, our civilization will cease to exist. The fate of our planet hangs in the balance. [A beat.] CAL: And I should want to help you because...? EXETER: Because there are thousands of lives at stake. CAL: And by "lives," you mean "goofy big-foreheaded aliens lives." EXETER: Well... yes. But a life is a life, isn't it? CAL: Well... that's open to interpretation. EXETER: Aren't you going to do something to save our planet? CAL: I don't mean to be rude or anything, Exeter, but your planet... well, uh, it kind of... bites the big one. EXETER: [shocked] What?!? Dr. Adams, can you talk some sense into your Earth colleague? RUTH: As much as I hate to admit it, Cal is actually right about this one, Exeter. I don't think this place is worth saving. BRACK: I told you they wouldn't help. But did you listen to me? Oh, no. Heaven forbid anyone should listen to Brack. EXETER: We'll discuss this later, Brack. CAL: Tell you what, Ex. Give us three good reasons why we should give a poop about this rinky-dink planet of yours. And maybe read them in a countdown fashion like a radio deejay. EXETER: Three reasons? Why I could give you a million. To you, our planet might seem like one of God's cruel mistakes, but to us... well, it's heaven. RUTH: Heaven? Are you kidding? Everyone looks alike, your leader is a fascist a-hole, and there are meteors crashing down all around us. How can you call this dump heaven? EXETER: How can I explain? Hmmmmm... BRACK: [looks at Exeter] Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Ex? EXETER: I think so, Brack. [A stagehand tosses a microphone to Exeter, while two more push an upright piano onto the stage. Brack goes over to the piano and starts to play. Music begins: upbeat 1950s rhythm-and-blues.] EXETER: [sings] When meteors fall and doomsday is nigh, I scurry to my... blue... heaven. If you feel uptight, Because your hair has turned white, Then hurry to my... blue... heaven. You'll find a shiny place, Lotsa space, brand-new mall, And six-foot-tall insects patrolling every hall. Observer and me and Bracky makes three. We're happy in my... blue... heaven. [spoken] Take it, Mu-Tant! [The MU-TANT, a guy in a rubber monster suit, comes in to play a blistering sax solo.] EXETER & BRACK: When meteors fall and doomsday is nigh, We scurry to our... blue... heaven. In spite of our plight, Our planet's still dy-no-mite! We're crazy 'bout our... blue... heaven. It's got such charm and grace, Open space, lots of room, What better place to face your own impending doom? Observer and me and Bracky makes three. We'd never leave our... blue... heaven. [At the song's conclusion, a big papier-maché meteor falls on Brack, Exeter, and the Mu-Tant. A pause.] CAL: [to Ruth] So... you wanna go get a cheeseburger or something? [Lights dim, curtain falls.] ANNOUNCER: Meanwhile, back on Earth, Cal's weaselly lab assistant, Joe, goes about his daily business. [Curtain rises again, revealing a new set: a mock-up of Cal's lab from the beginning of the movie. JOE, the dumpy second banana guy, enters.] JOE: Well, looks like we're in for another big day of doing science together, Cal. [Joe gads about the lab, adjusting switches and dials on big, gray, boxy computers. A MANNEQUIN dressed as Cal is seated on a folding chair in the corner. Joe "talks" to this Cal doppelganger and does both voices, mimicking Cal's profundo baritone.] JOE: [imitating Cal] "Oh, Joe, you're so smart and capable. I would be nowhere without you." [resumes normal voice] Gosh, Cal, you didn't have to say that. [as Cal] "No, really, Joe, you're the best assistant a guy could ever have. Not to mention the handsomest." [normal] Golly, Cal, that's enough to give a guy a swell head. Why, my wife might get jealous! [as Cal] "Wife? C'mon, Joe, you and I both know you're not married and never have been. Why don't you end this ridiculous charade?" [using own voice, but getting angry] That was uncalled for, Cal! [as Cal] "It's the truth, isn't it? Why, I'll bet you've never even been with a woman, have you?" [as himself, hysterical] Why, Cal?!? Why do you do this to me? WHY?!? [Joe breaks down into heaving sobs. Just then, Cal walks in.] CAL: What in the San Juan Hill is going on here? I thought I heard shouting. JOE: [stunned] I swear I'm just going to the bathroom, Ma! [tries to recover] Uh, I mean... Cal, you're back! CAL: You're ding-dang-right I'm back. What the H-E-double-toothpicks are you doing? JOE: Um... science...? CAL: Science? Is that why you've got all my whatzamajiggers and doohickeys all out of whack? It's going to take me hours to reset all these things! [notices "Cal" dummy] And what in the name of John C. Calhoun is THAT? JOE: [sweating profusely] Er... uh... It was, uh... like that when I got here? [A tense pause.] CAL: [seemingly satisfied with this answer] Okeydoke. I'm going down to the cafeteria and get myself a Yoohoo. You want anything? JOE: Uh, no thanks, Cal. [Cal exists. Joe heaves a heavy sigh of relief, wipes the sweat from his brown, and collapses to the floor. Suddenly, the eyes of the Cal mannequin light up, glowing an eerie red.] MANNEQUIN: Damnit, Joe, you should've asked him to get me a Tab! [Joe looks at the mannequin in horrified disbelief.] JOE: No! It can't be! [yelling] HEY, CAL! WAIT UP!!!! [Joe runs out the door after Cal.] MANNEQUIN: Y'know, sometimes I worry about that man. [The mannequin laughs and laughs. Its head does a complete 360- degree rotation. Lights dim. Curtain falls.] [THE END]