A BEHANDING IN SPOKANE ABRIDGED OR "OH NO, WHAT DO WE DO NOW?" THE PLAY From the "Broadway Abridged" Shorts Archives By Gil Varod and Gina Guadagnino
SCENE: A DODGEY RUN-DOWN HOTEL ROOM THAT IS INEXPLICABLY NOT IN IRELAND. A knock on the door. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN Yes. Who. Is it. Enter Sam Rockwell. SAM ROCKWELL I just came up because I thought I heard a gunshot, and I was hoping there was a fatally wounded chick I could then score with. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN No. No, it was. A car. Back-FIRING. SAM ROCKWELL My character doesn't buy that for a minute, but whatever. Hey, why do you have a head? CHRISTOPHER WALKEN What? SAM ROCKWELL Isn't this A Beheading in Spokane? CHRISTOPHER WALKEN That makes no sense. SAM ROCKWELL But I read the title of the play really quickly and-- CHRISTOPHER WALKEN How could I act. In a play. With no HEAD. My left hand is MISSING. It was stolen by PIKERS. SAM ROCKWELL What are Pikers? CHRISTOPHER WALKEN Irish gypsies. SAM ROCKWELL This play is set in America. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN Fine, Hillbillies. That's a WORD, right? SAM ROCKWELL Whatever, I'm going downstairs so the hot chick can enter the scene CHRISTOPHER WALKEN O. Kay. Enter Blonde Chick BLONDE CHICK I've got the hand you requested. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN It's a black HAND. I hate black PEOPLE. Cause I'm RACIST. Surely you SEE. That. SAM ROCKWELL (popping in) Oh, also I am racist. (popping out) PLAYWRIGHT MARTIN MCDONAGH (popping in) Oh, also my writing is a little racist. Observe: BLACK GUY (entering play from closet) Massah massah massah, ah... (stops doing that because even in an Abridged Script, it's pretty insulting) Um, my idiot girlfriend brought you the wrong hand; she should have brought the one from on top of the fridge. BLONDE CHICK But weWe don't have a fridge. BLACK GUY (to blonde chick) No, I'm lying, see? CHRISTOPHER WALKEN I think you're actually not. So I'm going to go to your house to find it. Because who the hell doesn't have. A fridge. Now please, handcuff yourselves to the radiator. He lights a candle on top of a jug of gasoline and shimmies down the fire escape to ransack their home. BLACK GUY AND BLONDE CHICK OH NO, WHAT DO WE DO *NOW*! BLACK GUY Let's throw our shoes at the fire. I'm sure the candle won't fall on the floor lighting the carpet ablaze in the process! BLONDE CHICK But we keep missing our throws! We're out of shoes! BLACK GUY AND BLONDE CHICK OH NO, WHAT DO WE DO *NOW*! TELEPHONE You know, I'm within reach. Just pick me up. 911 This play keeps referring to the internet, so I must exist! BLONDE CHICK I'll try and get his suitcase and we can throw that at the fire instead! With our feet! It opens, revealing dozens of hands that bounce on the stage as if they were made if silly putty. BLACK GUY AND BLONDE CHICK OH NO, WHAT DO WE DO *NOW*! PHONE Ring ring! Now you have to pick me up and acknowledge this plot hole! BLACK GUY Hello? Christopher Walken's Mom? Holy shit is that a frightening phrase. You just called to let me know that you may or may not have just died, and also you're a racist too? OH NO, WHAT DO I DO *NOW*! BLONDE CHICK At least I'm not a racist. BLACK GUY Ahem. Isn't the reason we gave Christopher Walken a black person's hand because before meeting him, you assumed that a guy missing a hand would be black? BLONDE CHICK Well if this play was set in Ireland, we wouldn't be able to explore VERY IMPORTANT race relations like this, would we? Enter Sam Rockwell to answer the question, "When is it no longer too soon to make Columbine jokes?" SAM ROCKWELL I noticed you're in a tight spot, guys. I like tight spots. Back in high school I used to dream of tight spots, like being in one of those Columbine-style shootings. Everybody else would be all like, "OH NO, WHAT DO WE DO *NOW*!" But I'd be like, "Hey baby, I'll rescue you with my shot off leg." (pause) I like Gibbons. BLONDE CHICK Please put out the candle for us? I think Gibbons are sexy too. SAM ROCKWELL I was going to say no because of a time when your boyfriend screwed me over for drugs, but I forget the point. Done! He puts out the candle and leaves. Enter Christopher Walken, breaking through the window with a crowbar. BLACK GUY HOLY SHIT! Like Christopher Walken *not* breaking into a window wasn't creepy enough! CHRISTOPHER WALKEN WHO PUT OUT MY CANDLE! Oh also there's hands on the floor. Incidentally I couldn't find my hand at your house. BLONDE CHICK OH NO, WHAT DO YOU DO *NOW*! CHRISTOPHER WALKEN I think I'll douse you both with gasoline and light you guys on fire. BLONDE CHICK OH NO, WHAT DO--- BLACK GUY WHAT THE FUCK? Enter Sam Rockwell. SAM ROCKWELL You'll probably need this lighter I took from you. Also, go ahead and call your mom. She might've died or something while on the phone with Black Dude? I'm not clear on all this. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN (on phone) Hello. Mom. You broke both your ankles. Falling out of a tree while trying to dislodge a balloon. Because you were worried your neighbors would think less of you. For having a balloon in your tree? This is the flimsiest subplot. Ever. I'm hanging up. MOM'S VOICE ON PHONE OH NO, WHAT DO I-- CHRISTOPHER WALKEN I'm too angry about the shitty subplot to kill you now. You can both go. I guess I brought this gun out onstage for nothing. (uncuffs black/blonde people) SAM ROCKWELL Before you two scurry off to safety, let me just put forth my theory that Christopher Walken cut off his own hand and is just using this story as an excuse to be a homicidal whackjob. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN Oh that's what I had this gun for! BLACK GUY AND BLONDE CHICK OH NO, WHAT DO WE DO *NOW*! CHRISTOPHER WALKEN I forgot to buy bullets, so the play is now over. BLACKOUT.