A Behanding in Spokane: Abridged


	           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.

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