Blood Strangers by Andy Rooster Bloch aka Rooster Mitchell
OVER BLACK
A GUNSHOT
THEN:
CLAY (VOICE)
Ahhhhhh!!!
LUCKY (VOICE)
Jesus, what the fuck!—
CLAY (VOICE)
Shit, holy shit—
LUCKY (VOICE)
What the—
CLAY (VOICE)
The gun… the fuckin' gun went off….dammit!...
(LIGHTS UP: A run-down motel room. A bed, stage left, next to an old
dresser, and a nightstand and lamp. Bathroom, stage right, next to a
desk and chair; and another chair. Clothes, booze bottles, fast food
wrappers, etc. litter the dive.
A broken analog clock on the dresser reads “10 AM”.
LUCKY is at the light switch near the door, stage left; squinting,
confused; he paces in the chaos. CLAY has nervously leaped onto the
bed, petrified, the gun shakes, points at the ground.)
LUCKY
What, what happened?—
CLAY
Fuck! I… I musta pulled the trigger in my sleep!...
LUCKY
Holy hell!!—
(A LOUD KNOCK AT THE DOOR; the PHONE RINGS. Chaos!)
For the love'a—
(Lucky moves to the door, yells:)
LUCKY (CONT'D)
It's OKAY! Little accident… was nothin'. Go back to bed. We're
fine! Go back to bed!...(turns to Clay) Jesus Christ, Clay.
(Lucky moves to the RINGING PHONE.)
CLAY
I'm… I'm losing my mind, Lucky! I CAN'T STAND THIS ANYMORE!
LUCKY
(to Clay) Shhhhh.
(picks up phone)
CLAY
Don't shush me, Goddammit!
LUCKY
(into phone) It's okay, yes, everything's fine. Jus' this idiot
thinks he's Wyatt Earp—
CLAY
Eat me—
LUCKY
(into phone) Everything's fine… yes, yes… I'm sure… Right.
Won't happen again… right… goodbye. Goodbye.
(hangs up)
CLAY
I'm freakin' out!
LUCKY
Shhhh—
CLAY
DON'T fuckin' shush me!! I'm shooting guns in my sleep—
LUCKY
You're hysterical.
CLAY
You're Goddamn right I'm hysterical!
LUCKY
Why the hell are ya sleeping with a gun?
CLAY
I don't know. I'm ... I'm freakin' out… musta dreamt of whackin'
someone.
LUCKY Who?
(Clay spins and points the gun directly at Lucky!)
LUCKY (CONT'D)
Don't answer that.
CLAY
I'm up to here with this cesspool. I'm done.
(Clay steps off the bed.)
LUCKY
What do you mean, you're done?
CLAY
JUST WHAT I SAID: IT'S OVER! I'm callin' the cops, ending this
thing right now—
(Clay moves to the phone. Lucky throws his hand on Clay's.)
LUCKY
Shut up with that talk.
CLAY
Get out of my way.
(Lucky pushes Clay out of the way.)
LUCKY
You're not callin' anybody! (moves to Clay, snags the gun out of
his hands) And give me that 'fore ya hurt someone.
(looks inside the chamber; empties the clip) Always remember… guns
don't kill people. Dumb little brothers do.
CLAY
Asshole.
LUCKY
Watch your tone.
(Clay paces, moves to the bathroom. Enters.)
CLAY (O.S.)
Tell me again, Lucky.
(Clay re-enters the room.)
LUCKY
Tell you what.
CLAY
Tell me again. Explain how this went terribly wrong.
LUCKY
We've been through this.
(Lucky puts the gun in the top dresser drawer, then enters the
bathroom.)
CLAY
Well, go through it again. Wanna make sure our stories corroborate
in front of the grand jury.
LUCKY (O.S.)
Look! A simple robbery went bad, that's all—
CLAY
That's all?
LUCKY (O.S.)
That's all. Deal with it.
CLAY
You act like… you… you burned dinner for Chrissake! You realize
how much shit we're in?! Do you realize the magnitude of this crime?
LUCKY (O.S.)
Yes, I realize. But, honestly… what good's it for both of us to act
like pussies.
CLAY
I see. Now I'm a pussy.
LUCKY (O.S.)
No, Clay. You've always been a pussy.
CLAY Fuck you.
(Lucky re-enters the room. Clay moves to the bathroom; stops, smells
around the bathroom entrance, grimaces. A wicked odor.)
CLAY (CONT'D) Ah, God!
(Clay moves to the desk, grabs a pack of matches, lights a match,
waves it around the bathroom door.)
LUCKY
You saw me in the car tucking a beretta into my Levis. What'd you
think I was gonna do? Play show and tell?
CLAY
Right, show and tell. Showed me what a half-ass crook you are, now I'm
tellin' ya.
LUCKY
Oh that's adorable.
CLAY
You shot a security guard.
LUCKY
He shot first.
CLAY
It's his job to shoot first… how he puts bread on the table.
LUCKY
Self defense.
CLAY
That's weak.
(Clay enters the bathroom.)
LUCKY
That's the truth.
CLAY (O.S.)
What if you killed him?
LUCKY
Well, I'm no doctor; but if I killed him, I'll wager he's dead.
(Clay re-enters the room.)
CLAY
We gotta find out… see if he's alive.
LUCKY
So call the bank.
CLAY
What?
LUCKY
Call the bank.
CLAY
I'm not callin' the bank.
LUCKY
You'll call the cops but you won't call the bank.
CLAY
(adamant)
I'm not calling the bank.
LUCKY
Makes sense. You'll be in a cell, ya won't know why you're there.
CLAY
You don't get a cell for this. You get a chair.
LUCKY
So they say.
CLAY
So they say. So they say. Look at 'em. So smug. So cavalier. Not a
stitch of concern. (beat) Aren't you a little scared? Aren't you—
LUCKY
Lemme tell you something, little brother. He who crumbles, loses.
Get me?
CLAY
You're a thief.
LUCKY
So are you.
CLAY
That's crap.
LUCKY
Is it.
CLAY
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
LUCKY
That your alibi?
CLAY
Yes.
LUCKY
Your alibi sucks.
CLAY
Tell me again what you told me in the car. You know. The Nova. The one
you smashed into a telephone pole; the one that used'ta have four
wheels and an engine. What did you say—
LUCKY
When?
CLAY
Before we—
LUCKY
We—
CLAY
Before we entered the bank—
LUCKY
I said—
CLAY
You said: you had to run an errand.
LUCKY
What's your point?
CLAY
An errand, Lucky! An errand is ... is…going to the grocery store
or… or… to Aunt Irene's to pick up the crockpot—
LUCKY
Goin' to the bank isn't an errand?
CLAY
Let me put it this way: Once you tell a room-full a' strangers to
get on their knees and face hell… steal cash from an S&L then shoot
an innocent man in the ulcer: ya see, that no longer qualifies as an
errand.
LUCKY
Mm—
CLAY
Now thanks to your heroics we're gonna end up in prison and ya know
what I have to look forward to? Gettin' butt-rammed by the meanest
mother in the house.
LUCKY
Golly. Most hope for a box a' smokes.
CLAY
I'm glad you find this so amusing. You're the shooter. You're the
one that's gonna fry.
LUCKY
Oh I see. Not in it together anymore? Bet Orville never said to
Wilbur… this rig plunges into the sea, you're fucked!
CLAY
'Least they paid for the thing. What are you? Crook. Common
thief.
LUCKY
Such words.
(A beat. Clay looks out the window.)
CLAY
It's not safe here.
LUCKY
It is.
CLAY
It isn't.
LUCKY
Relax. Only person that knows we're here is Nate and he owes me a
favor. The place is fine.
CLAY
Yeah, fine. Club Fuckin' Med. We should leave right now!
LUCKY
You mean before the police wake up.
CLAY
It's not safe.
LUCKY
We'll leave when it's A-okay to leave and not before. I suggest you
adapt to the situation.
CLAY
(scoffs) Adapt.
LUCKY
Yes. Adapt.
CLAY
(holds his stomach) I'm starving.
(A beat.)
(Lucky picks up a crumpled bag, sniffs inside. Tosses it to Clay.)
LUCKY
Dig in.
(Clay sniffs inside the bag. Repulsed.)
CLAY
Ah man!... that stinks.
(Tosses the bag back to Lucky, who picks up a half-eaten sandwich,
eats it. Clay gives Lucky a disgusted look. Lucky looks back, a
mouth-full of food.)
LUCKY
Survival. Heard of it?
CLAY
Yeah… also heard of botulism.
LUCKY
Don't worry about food. Nate'll come by later… bring us food.
CLAY
I can't believe I'm related to a person who knows an old desk clerk
who delivers food to crooks.
LUCKY
We're not crooks. We're bank robbers.
CLAY
Bank robbers.
LUCKY
Right.
CLAY
You're an insult to bank robbers. And ya know why?
LUCKY
Do tell—
[end of extract]