Comedy, by Ken Bradbury, 1997
A private eye and a gorgeous blond ... What could be funnier than a suspected murder?
Price includes 2 scripts.
Duration8 - 10 minutes
- 1 Female, 1 Male
Product Id: #232
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An excerpt …
(A private detective.)
Mick: She was tall, blonde, and dangerous. She had a record as long as your arm, and she’d left a trail of broken hearts scattered across town like fender parts in a demolition derby. And out of all the places in all the world, she came to see me, Mickey Spleen, Private Eye. (she enters, the typical gangster moll, chewing her gum and protecting her nails) Yeh?
Moll: You Speen?
Mick: Yeh, that’s me.
Moll: I gotta talk.
Moll: Can I sit down?
Mick: (observing her outfit) It’ll be tough but give it a try.
(What’s the problem?)
Moll: I think I killed a guy.
Moll: I think so.
Moll: What chu lookin’ at?
Mick: Your future, dame. Murder’s serious.
Moll: Yeh, I know. Especially when they die.
Mick: So who was it?
Moll: I ain’t shu-wa.
Mick: You killed a guy and didn’t even know his name?
Moll: I didn’t have a chance to ask. He was dead before I met him.
(A cog slips in the machinery.)
Mick: (nearly crying) Bandito frijoles!
Moll: Si! Pero no sprecken ze Duetch! Mi madre, su padre, Mama Mia conquistador! (as she throws an imaginary man to the floor and begins stomping on him ala flamenco, coming down hard on each accented beat) CorDOBApico pico, NINO pico pico, TACO pico pico, Enchilada! Muerto! (and they embrace to tango while humming a few bars of Hernando’s Hideaway) (suddenly standing upright) ) So then I told him, “Listen Buster, don’t try that stuff with me, and …”
Mick: (as she continues in pantomime) What can I say? It changed my life. No more long afternoons listening to one sob story after another … No more …
Moll: (coming out of her mime and speaking to him directly) Mickey!
Mick: (somewhat startled) Yeh, doll?
Moll: I can’t take any more of this!
Mick: (a small laugh) You’re tellin’ me.
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