A short play
Characters
BO, THE SECURITY GUARD
BAND
BAND MEMBER
CROWD
JERRY
TOM
MOTHER
BABY
US
A thousand voices echo “Hello!”
Beat.
Jiggy music starts playing. Lights up on the outside of a metallic building. The door is fortified. The windows are fake. There’s a wobbly plastic chair with yarn, a crocheting hook, and a thermos of hot cocoa. BO, THE SECURITY GUARD begins his official tour.
BO, THE SECURITY GUARD
Hello!
BO, THE SECURITY GUARD
Welcome, folks, and thank you for joining me on this tour. It’s real nice to have some company, and I am flattered y’all find my humble lil’ job interesting. So, this…
BO gestures widely at the wall.
…is where the magic happens. I’ll tell you; I’ve made a scarf for everyone on my Christmas list in just this last month. And I mean cousins, step-aunts, niece’s half-eaten rabbit, everyone gets a-
Loud clang.
I’m going off, aren’t I? Why don’t I walk you thro-
Louder clang.
BO gets serious, then remembers his audience and gives an exaggerated sigh.
Well, let’s walk you through my route, ey?
The gate, which seemed to be excessively secured, swings open by itself. A light is flickering inside. Twirling his keys, BO walks in. Out of sight and inside the factory, he continues speaking.
This here is the main lobby! Now don’t you worry too much about that couch, we’re getting’ it replaced. I’ve got the nightshift, so there ain’t anyone to want to sit on it anyhow. Now here…
Heavy clanging, screaming of hinges, dragging of something heavy.
BO is now more muffled.
Men’s room! See these touch-wavy soap dispensers? Brand new.
BO’s footsteps. Sounds of glass breaking, and BO grunting.
BO clears his throat.
Now this used to be the guard outpost but…
Squelching. BO just stepped in something really gross.
What can I say? I love the fresh air! Much safer to keep an eye on anyone trying to get in… or out. Ha! Well, I won’t stall any longer. I know what you want to see.
BO climbs back through the glass. Footsteps.
BO opens the gate to hell.
Wild, isn’t it? Now don’t you worry about me, these folks know to keep their distance. Let’s see… Ah! My favorite regulars!
A fight breaks out. It sounds like a cage fight, with a crowd yelling at the men to drop dead. One does.
Ah, tough luck, Jerry. You’ll get him next time. (to audience. BO now has to yell a bit to be heard) That was Jerry and Tom’s fight. Usually Jerry outsmarts the big oaf, but what can I say? This place is full of surprises.
BO offers Tom his heartfelt congratulations. Tom spits at him.
Not joining in the night’s festivities? Well, to each his own.
We hear Jerry dragged off.
This is the last stop before we circle back out. Part of the job is making sure everyone stays in line, but also checking to see each event is on time. For example…
The sound of a curtain being yanked aside.
The band is getting ready awfully early! (to band.) What are you boys doing? We don’t want our friends to hear that racket.
BAND MEMBER
It’s folk punk.
BO
You can call it what you like, Terrance, it’s not supposed to happen for another hour. Were you the ones making a kerfuffle earlier?
A banjo is strung in Defiance.
BO
…
BAND
…
Cymbals crash. A loud thud. A banjo is smashed over BO’s head.
A riot.
A woman screams.
BO
Oh crap!
The crowd is coming. It feels as if a hoard of zombies, or a pack of rabid wolves, is sprinting toward the exit, toward the audience.
BO, THE SECURITY GUARD rolls out the front door and into sight like a pro. He kicks the door shut.
Absolute silence.
BO turns to the audience with a winning grin, blowing hair from his face. His boots leave trails of red, and his socks are soaked.
BO
And that, ladies and gents, is what a nightshift as guard of the biggest factory on earth looks like.
The door isn’t locked.
A woman pounds on it from the inside, wailing and pleading. BO pounds back.
Silence.
You know what? I’m gonna knit myself a scarf tonight.
A jingle of keys. BO freezes.
A hundred arms writhe out the opening door. BO tries to close it. They grab him.
BO, THE SECURITY GUARD is pulled into hell.
MOTHER runs outside, clothes torn, panting. In her arms a bundle.
She is gasping for breath.
One by one, they exit the factory.
The band plays Folk Punk with a broken banjo. It fits.
TOM drags JERRY out. They have matching tattoos. Schools of fish.
Someone from the crowd hooks arms with JERRY. So does someone else.
Like a magician’s trick, impossibly, the line of people, hooked arms, keeps pulling itself out of the factory door, singing. Those that aren’t limp are swinging their hips, skipping.
MOTHER hasn’t moved.
MOTHER starts laughing.
A lot.
MOTHER
We did it, sweetie. I’ve got you. We actually…
Relief becomes hysteria.
MOTHER seizes. Freezes.
Drops the baby.
A yelp like that of an injured animal, then inconsolable wailing.
Mother falls back, stiff as a board.
The singing doesn’t stop.
The crowd sings “That’s when I realized it gets worse & it does, oh it does!”
TOM stares at the baby.
TOM approaches, stepping over MOTHER.
Clearly someone who has never held a child, TOM picks the kid up like she’s made of glass. He nods at MOTHER.
TOM sits on the plastic chair and consoles the baby.
END
Sabrina Parra Díaz 