SafeTinspector Scenes

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This is more of a brief character study with a few place-holder gags. I'll probably be turning this into a more fleshed out scene, but I find this character really funny.

“Tutan-uncommon American Dream”

08/29/05 (version #1)

CAST

Tutankhomen – Age, 4000

Bob – Male Age, 30

(Tutankhomen sits behind a desk, phone against his bandage wrapped head.)

TUT

Sir, I represent a local charity, you might have heard of it, the United People For Making People Happy. I'd like to know how much we can put you down for.

(pause)

Yes.

(pause. Sighs)

No.

(shorter pause)

Well, perhaps you've heard of it by its acronym, "Up for Map-Hap?" That's us!

Then would you be interested in subscribing to our quarterly newsletter? It's only $52 a year-that's like only a dollar a day!

(shorter pause. A little angry)

Would it interest you to know that I can have Osirus feed upon your entrails while you scream for mercy, forever regretting your pitiful decision to ignore the pleas of “Up for MAP HAP?”

(pause)

I understand, sir, and I'd love to accommodate your request, but the embalmers removed the necessary parts and put them in a jar, and some damn grave-robber stole the friggin' jar!

(pause)

Alright, then, thanks for your time.

(turns to audience)

BOB

(offstage)

So, how do you like the work?

TUT

Yeah, well, the jobs ok. Nothing like I had in the old world. But, you know, its not half bad. You make do, right? You gotta make do.

BOB

So, you're not disappointed in your life here in America?

TUT

I know its a cliché, but it could be worse. I mean, I commanded armies, drank the milk of virgins, commanded the sun to rise and set, all that stuff. But you can't live in the past, and when you lose everything, you just have to start over. So, yeah. I like it ok.

If nothing else, I can sleep through sunrise or sunset and don't have to worry about the sun waiting up for me.

BOB

So you had to start over. Was that hard?

TUT

Of course it was hard! My stuff's all caught up in court by the assholes at the museum, so I got NOTHING, man. I came here with just the bandages on my back.

BOB

Was it hard getting this job? How about learning English?

TUT

(chuckles) Well, Bob, that's TWO questions, isn't it? Heh, heh. Well, English was easy. You may not realize this, but its the official language of the land of the dead.

BOB

No!

TUT

Oh, yeah! Except the scale of Anubis is metric now, not standard. If your soul is heavier than 1.3 grams, then you can't gain entrance to Starbucks.

(nodding)

That's when the Soul Eater gets you.

BOB

And getting the job?

TUT

This wasn't my first job, Bob. I was a waiter for awhile, but the bandages began smelling like cilantro and garlic. The wife wouldn't lay in the same sarcophogi with me! Then I worked as an executive assistant to a financial advisor.

(sighs)

That's when the curse kicked in.

BOB

Curse?

TUT

Curse of the Mummy, right? Damned inconvenient, that. He thoughtlessly took my tape dispenser without asking, so the curse forced me to stalk him by night and strangle him to death.

BOB

Crap...

TUT

Yeah! I hate that! The mandatory goose-stepping is rough on my hips, and strangling a man with your arms stretched straight out is really rough on your shoulders. And then it was back to the unemployment line.

BOB

They pay benefits to the undead?

TUT

Not at first, no. Americans fancy themselves all-inclusive and fair, but they aren't. Did you realize that as soon as you die, you lose all your property rights?

BOB

Uh, yeah...I think I did.

TUT

See? But I was able to get this..uh...

(fishes around in bandages. Pulls out a card)

Social security card off the internet. I don't know what happened to...

(reads card slowly)

...Peter VanWeidermaker, but he gets unemployment benefits when he's out of work, just the same!

So...anyway, I went to this job fair, and at first they weren't real receptive. Lots of,

(holds hands up in mock-terror)

“IT'S A MUMMY!” and “AAAAAAAAAHHH! HELP,” and “HE'S GOT ME! OH, GOD, HE'S TEARING MY ARMS OFF!” But then I met Frank. He's my supervisor here. He said I had just the right go-to attitude he was looking for. And now I'm gonna be somebody. The American dream is REAL!

BOB

Well, that's all the time we have for tonight.

TUT

(disappointed)

Oh, OK.

BOB

And that was this weeks episode of, “The New American Dream.” Thanks for tuning in folks.

TUT

(turns back to phone)

Sir, I represent a local charity, you might have heard of it, the United People For Making People Happy. I'd like to know how much we can put you down for.

(pause, laughs maniacally)

Excellent. You shall certainly live another day, sir.

CAST

Ron – Male, 30

Claire – Female, 30

Police Officer “Tripp” – Male, 27

(In car. Claire driving. “I Can't Get No” by Rolling Stones plays on the radio.

(I can't get no satisfaction)

Ron begins slapping his knees in time to the music.

(I can't get no uh, satisfaction)

He begins rolling his head. He begins to sing.

RON (badly in time with music)

I can't get no uh, satisfaction

I can't get no satisfaction

And I try!

(Claire evidences annoyance)

And I try!

(Claire changes channel. Police "Every Breath You Take" begins to play)

And I try!

And I try!

(Claire looks incredulously at Ron)

I just can't get no!

I can't get no,

CLAIRE

(Turns off radio)

SHUT UP! SHUT! UP!

RON

(Startled)

Aw, honey! Why couldn't you just let me finish? I only had a little bit left.

CLAIRE

Left of what, Ron?!? You didn't have anything!

RON

The song, Claire. I was just... I needed closure! Now I'm all verbally blue-balled.

CLAIRE

Closure? What about MY closure? Do you have to ruin every song on the radio?

RON

It wasn't so bad.

CLAIRE

It was unnecessary. Why don't you ever just listen to the song?

RON

Why? I already know the words.

CLAIRE

God, whatever. You do have your Mom's birthday card, right?

RON

(holding up sealed envelope)

Right here!

CLAIRE

Did you sign it before you closed it?

RON

(insincerely)

Yeah!

CLAIRE

(noting the insincerity)

Good. Because nothing tells a mother how little her son really cares about her than his not even taking the time to sign her birthday card.

RON

Uh, yeah.

CLAIRE

And after she raised you and your six brothers, who will all have undoubtedly signed their cards with lots of X's and O's...

RON

But I love mom more than them! I do!

CLAIRE

You didn't sign it, did you.

RON

(sobs)

And I licked it shut!!

CLAIRE

(hands purse to Ron)

Oh, sweety, here. In the inside pocket there's a razor box cutter. CAREFULLY use it to open the envelope. Then use my pen to sign it.

(Ron finds razor, carefully opens envelope, removes card and hands razor to Claire, who puts it in lap. He then takes out pen and takes cap off with teeth. Pen comes apart leaving him with tube in his hand. He turns to Claire with

RON

Claire, the pen-

CLAIRE

Give me that.

(snatches empty pen tube, puts it in lap.)

There's another pen in my purse.

(Ron fishes out second pen. Claire turns on radio. Elton John's “Tiny Dancer” plays. Ron visibly slumps in pain. He signs card and returns it to envelope.

Claire shows every sign of loving the music, swaying, snapping fingers, nodding head rapturously. All the while Ron is showing signs of hating life. Fidgets, looks at ceiling, out window, looks in glove compartment. Finally, he begins singing mockingly)

RON

Hold me CLOSER, tiny da-ancer!

(Claire winces immediately. Turns to look at Ron. Ron continues singing mockingly.)

Countin' headlights on the high-waaaay!

(Claire turns off the radio)

CLAIRE

STOP IT! Can't you just sit there and listen to it?

RON

(hangs head slightly)

But I HATE this song.

CLAIRE

Then why didn't you just tell me that?

RON

Because you were enjoying it!

CLAIRE

So you thought I'd rather have the song ruined than know you don't want to hear “Tiny Dancer?”

RON

No, I didn't think-

CLAIRE

No, you never think. Its bad enough we're going to this frickin' party, to watch you and your monkey-tribe worship the old war-horse-

RON

Hey, don't talk about Mom that way! She's a saint!

CLAIRE

No, of course not. One should never talk disparagingly about the queen of the Brunski clan. Hooray, another night of watching that woman beam that smug mug around while you and your retarded brothers-

(Ron:HEY!)

take turns telling flattering stories about her amazing mothering skills, fight over who gets to keep her margarita stein brimming full of alcoholic goodness and making damn sure she never finds her greasy meat-hooks short of fried chicken and butter.

RON

Mom doesn't have meat-hooks!

CLAIRE

And if she so much as hints, even ONE more time, that her precious Ronnie could have done better than marrying one Claire Byrne, I will beat her about the head and shoulders with her cold-cut platter until she is dead! DEAD!

RON

(sobbing)

STOP IT! Stop it... Can't you just go and deal with it for one night?

(brandishing birthday card)

It's her birthday!

(Claire grabs envelope from his hands, presses button opening Ron's window and flings it out of the car. Ron grabs after it, but can't get it in time. Two seconds later a police siren squawks and flashing red lights appear behind the care.)

CLAIRE

Oh, crap.

RON

Honey, I think they want us to pull over.

CLAIRE

(sarcastically)

No, they heard we were on our way to your mother's house and wanted to give us a police escort.

RON

(sincerely)

I really don't think so.

CLAIRE

(pulling car over)

Just let me do the talking.

(Policeman knocks on driver's side window. Claire lowers the window. Policeman leans in, brandishing an envelope and pointing a flashlight in the car.)

POLICE

Does this belong to either of you?

RON

Oh, yeah! That's my-

POLICE

Mother's birthday card?

CLAIRE

What?!?

RON

Hey, yeah! How'd you know?

POLICE

I took the liberty of reading it. I think the extra X's and O's are a nice touch. You must love your mother very much.

CLAIRE

Oh, Christ.

RON

Oh, I do, officer. She's a saint. But how did you have time to read it?

POLICE

How did I get the card at all is a better question. But I digress. Here, you better get this to your dear Mom.

RON

(taking envelope)

Thank you very much, officer.

CLAIRE

I can't believe this. At least we'll be nice and late to your mom's stupid party. Maybe she'll already be drunk.

POLICE

(shines flashlight in Claire's face. She squints)

Hey, the woman is a saint! You shouldn't talk like that.

(shines flashlight in Claire's lap and spots the razor blade and pen shaft)

What have we here?

CLAIRE

Duh, a piece of a pen and a razor.

POLICE

Where I come from, we call that “drug paraphernalia,” hippie.

CLAIRE

What?!?

POLICE

You heard me. Step out of the car, please.

(steps aside to allow Claire to exit car.)

How about you, sir? Do you know anything about this?

RON

No, officer! I had no idea she had a crack pipe!

POLICE

(Handcuffing Claire as she protests and struggles)

You seem like a nice guy, and I know you have somewhere to go. So I'm going to let you go, sir. But I wouldn't wait up for cracky here. You have a nice evening.

(marches Claire off-stage. Ron looks back through his rear-window for awhile. Looks around the car and then down at the rumpled envelope. He scoots into the driver's seat and starts the car. As he pulls away from the curb, Elton John's “Yellow Brick Road” plays.)

RON

No more the yellow brick ro-o-oad! Ah, ah-ah-ah ah!

(FIN)