Comedy, by Ken Bradbury, 2003
A passenger lets his imagination wander while the cab driver drones-on. The driver becomes part of the imaginary action.
Price includes 2 scripts.
Duration8 - 10 minutes
- 2 Males
Product Id: #258
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An excerpt …
(the ride begins)
MAURY: Hop in. (Paul gets in.) Where to? (Paul begins to answer but before he can get a word out, Maury continues.) Can you believe this weather? Unbe-stinkin’-lievable! So where you goin’? (Again, Paul tries to answer but Maury blurts in, still driving.) I was tellin’ my wife last night … Hilda’s a good old girl ... gettin’ a little heavy around the hips but that’s the way it goes when you get older … her mother’s like that, too. Oh baby, you oughta meet her mother! Now, that ... that is a piece of work, buddy. Hey look! I gotta know where I’m goin’! This meter’s runnin’ you know!
PAUL: Well, I need to …
MAURY: Would you believe this traffic!? Unbe-stinkin’-lievable! Look at that jerk cut me off! (shouting out the window) Hey, fella!
(to cope with the boredom, Paul creates an imaginary scene to do away with the driver)
PAUL: (with a British accent) General Howe, it’s a Yankee spy! The punishment is death!
MAURY: (on his knees, begging for his life) They made me do it, General! I swear! I wouldn’t spy on the British! I’m just a poor hack driver from Boston!
PAUL: (aiming) Prepare to die, Yankee. If you have any last words, please say them quickly.
MAURY: (still pleading hysterically) I love the British! I swear! (hand over his heart, singing) “God save our gracious queen, long may she ever reign …”
PAUL: Enough! Your voice alone is enough to deserve the firing squad. Gentlemen, on three!
MAURY: No! Please don’t shoot! (he jumps into his chair and covers his head)
(and again …)
PAUL: (suddenly standing, holding a machine gun) Don’t move a muscle, Scar Face!
MAURY: (hands frozen onto the wheel) Mugsy! Dat you?
PAUL: Kiss your luck goodbye, Scar Face! You been weaselin’ into my territory just once too often and it’s time you loined yer lesson, you dirty rat!
MAURY: (looking down and standing up) Da river?! Don’t tro me in da river, Mugsy! You know I ain’t neva loined to swim ... especially wit deese concrete blocks tied to my feet! Gimme a break, Mugsy! Oh please gimme a stinkin’ break, would ja!?
PAUL: You’ve had yer breaks, kid. Now it’s time I broke you! (grabs Maury from behind and prepares to push)
MAURY: (screaming for his life) Don’t push me, Mugsy! Please don’t push me! Dere’s sharks, Mugsy! And piranha and (pronouncing the “w”) swordfish and … (looks down in disgust) ... and garbage. (crying) Oh Mugsy, dat’s really a disgusting way to die!
PAUL: Yeah, well you picked a discustin’ way to live, kid! Geronimo! (he pushes Maury who ends up in his chair as Paul sits)
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