Monday, May 10, 2004

Five the Second – (Frequent Random Shooting)

Lights up

There are four people in the room. The criminal Jacobs, the lawyer Adamson and the two police detectives Kent and Wayne. Jacobs, Adamson and Wayne are male, Kent is female.

The set is a police interrogation room. A single rectangular table with four chairs. Adamson and Jacobs sit on one side Kent sits on the other and Wayne is standing.

Kent: Look you might as well come clean Jacobs. You know you did it, you know you did it and your family obviously knows you did it because sitting next to you is a thousand dollar an hour piece of scum.

Adamson: You flatter me Detective. It’s nine hundred an hour. And I remind you that my client will not be coerced by your charm into saying anything.

Wayne: Well let’s take a look at the facts again shall we?

Wayne comes across to the table and picks up a pad.

Wayne: Two dead bodies, both shot from a distance approximately 3 feet. The bodies were previously Rodrigo Cortez and Cassius Ramirez. Who strangely enough were in the same business as your client Mr Adamson, nightclub ownership and drug dealing.

Adamson: As you well know Detective Wayne there is no evidence of my client ever being involved with drug dealing. We both know however that Mr Cortez and Mr Ramirez have been under investigation by your department and several other agencies for their drug dealing and associations with other known drug dealers. Please refrain from making such allusions in the future.

Kent: Yeah Yeah

Wayne: I’ll continue. You client states that Mr Cortez and Mr Ramirez entered his club at 4:30 am this morning. They asked to speak with him. The club was closed and Mr Jacobs had sent all the staff home telling them that he would lock up.

Kent: Very brave of you Jacobs. Agreeing to meet alone with two guys you know are in direct competition and have less than savoury business partners.

Jacobs: They said they wanted to discuss opening a club together, pool our resources, sort things out between us.

Wayne: Generous of you. Isn’t your Family one of the ten richest in the State?

Jacobs: Third. But I don’t rely on what my family provides me. I run my own business.

Kent: Really, the ten thousand dollar suit next to you would say otherwise.

Jacobs: I don’t say no to a little assistance when I need it.

Adamson: Can we get on with your fairytale detectives?

Wayne: Mr Jacobs sits down with them and things start, ten minutes later two men come into the club through a side door. They are wearing black, gloves and balaclavas. They walk right up to the three of you draw guns and one of them proceeds to fire into Mr Ramirez and Mr Cortez. They train the guns on you, but do not fire, they instead back out of the club then disappear. You call 911 and then amazingly, your lawyer. Who arrives two minutes after the first officers. You must have a fast car Mr Adamson.

Adamson: Porche 911. But you know that detectives.

Kent: Run any red lights?

Adamson: No I didn’t.

Wayne: So the officers arrive to find two stiffs and you on a bar stool.

Adamson: With no Gun shot residue, no motive and the unfortunate position of having to watch two men get shot to death in front of his eyes before being dragged in here for no reason. You have nothing on my client detectives so please do something stupid like charge him or we are going.

Kent: Sit the fuck down Adamson. We are waiting for forensics. SO you and your client can just wait. GSR means bugger all. He could have worn gloves, could have used his jacket to hold the gun or even washed his hands. Smart rich fucks always end up doing something stupid, It’s only a matter of time and there’s nothing that slick pieces of shit like you can do about it. So sit your arse down

Adamson: I did it. I organised and brokered a drug deal between the two of us and Ramirez and Cortez. We were going to pool our funds and buy a shitload from the Columbians. But those two stupid fucks tried to sell us out. They were going to roll over on us to the drug squad to save their own pathetic asses. So I blew them away. Then legged it. I knew you would take in the boy and would have no case due to lack of evidence. We would walk away with out a scratch while you lot would be left with nothing. (pause) What the fuck did I just say?

All the characters change mannerisms. The tension suddenly vanishes

Wayne: Not again.

Kent: I was almost there! That fucking bastard get him in here.

Jacobs: Two lines? I had two lines!

Adamson: Get the writer in here.

The Writer comes onto the stage.

The Writer: Um sorry about that.

Kent: Again? What your excuse this time

The Writer: Look “premature explanation” happens to all guys at some point. I was really trying.

Adamson: Trying? It seemed like you just went in and went hard. No thought for anyone else. Elle here was just starting to get worked up.

The Writer: I tried to slow down the pace. I wanted to make sure we all got there together.

Wayne: Did you try holding the base of the drama? Get some of the pressure off?

The Writer: Sure. That’s why Dave at so few lines.

Jacobs: Fucker. Maybe you should have tried something else

The Writer: I almost started listing the last ten years’ worth of Wallaby players but that seemed a little extreme.

Kent: 3 minutes 28 seconds. All we needed was another minute and a half. You couldn’t last another minute and a half.

The Writer: I was hoping the talking afterwards might count?

Kent: Typical writer. All emotion. Sure the talking afterwards is nice but it isn’t hard, throbbing, plot-driven drama, and that’s what a girl like me craves.

The Writer: I’m sorry but I’m trying everything to satisfy all of you. I’ve ordered some stuff that I got offered in my email, maybe that will help.

Wayne: One more shot. After that we are going to Bryce Courtney. That man has got a massive plot that lasts forever and never fails to satisfy.

Everyone stares at Wayne.

Wayne: So I’ve heard.

Lights out.


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