intothatgood
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
[
bottom
]
INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT AND TOWARDS THE MORNING
A new play by
John Fenn
Lights up. A New York City luxury
penthouse with an incredible view of
Central Park. Left of center, a large empty
mirror frame, back to the audience and
suspended as if on an imaginary hall wall .
Up right, a flashy, chic, home bar.
MALCOLM enters, paces anxiously, goes
upstage to window and looks out on Central
Park.
Buzzer sounds.
MALCOLM
Oh, Christ. Here we go.
He picks up phone.
Yes.
WOMAN'S VOICE
It's me, Malcolm.
MALCOLM
(as he buzzes her up)
Right.
Oh, Lord let this be fast.
MALCOLM starts towards the hall as
SYLVIA suddenly walks in. She notes his
surprised expression.
SYLVIA
Oh, yes. The key. Sorry. Here. Now, I want to make this as quick as
possible.
MALCOLM
Here, here!
SYLVIA
So I brought along the list of things we talked about.
MALCOLM gets a paper bag and one or two
larger items from behind the bar.
SYLVIA (cont'd)
Oh. Yes. There they are. I wasn't looking forward to rummaging
about...
MALCOLM
Neither was I.
SYLVIA
I guess. Now... there was something else...
MALCOLM
Yes?
SYLVIA
I realize that you paid for that turned wood salad bowl...
He exits.
SYLVIA (cont'd)
But I was always the one who... it's right above the cupboard on the
left... Oh. Yes. That's fine. Thanks so much.
MALCOLM
Think nothing of it. You always loved it.
SYLVIA
(noticing a painting)
Oh! You did buy the Warhol after all.
MALCOLM
Well, yes. I have to concede that you were right on that...
SYLVIA
Me? Right? Well, that's a new first!
MALCOLM
A last new first, I trust.
SYLVIA
I suppose so. Well, I'm off. Thanks for corralling this stuff...
MALCOLM gestures as she exits. The air
pours from him as he staggers for a steel
Martini shaker like a desert traveler for an
oasis.
MALCOLM
Gawd! Thank heavens that's over!
Just as he skewers an onion with a
toothpick, there's a knock on door.
MALCOLM (cont'd)
I should have known.
To the onion.
MALCOLM (cont'd)
Now you wait right there... I'll only be a moment.
Lets SYLVIA in, who has a stack of mail.
SYLVIA
Eh... forgot the mailbox key.
MALCOLM
Right. Anything for you?
SYLVIA
Just Cosmopolitan. Already E-mailed them to change the address.
MALCOLM
What will I ever do without my Cosmo?
SYLVIA
Right. Those covers!
MALCOLM
Absolutely. The unbuttoned-diaphanous-see-through look.
SYLVIA
So, subscribe! Now I'm really off.
She exits. He stands in the hall expectantly
for a few moments, then, talking to the
onion...
MALCOLM
Just a second. Let's not rush.
Pauses. Then Groucho walks over to the
window, peers out to the street below...
MALCOLM (cont'd)
YES! Free at last, free at last! Thank God A'mighty, we free at last!
Returns to bar... picks up the onion on it's
toothpick.
MALCOLM (cont'd)
You see, old man, it's no big deal. Controlled calm, clear guilt free
boundaries. Nothing to it. Handling a woman... any woman... is no
problem. Now I get some time with you!
Drops onion in glass. He then proceeds to
make his martini.
Strolls over to the mirror and dourly
regards his image in the empty frame.
Rubs his face stretching the skin over his
skull bones.
Makes a face or two, regarding each with
measured care. Checks his stomach profile.
Back to bar. He picks up a catalogue from
the mail, and continues his dialogue with
the onion in his martini.
Goddamnit. Look at this. Modern Male Maturity. How do I get on
these mailing lists?
Flips a couple of pages.
"Incontinent But Totally Secure." Plastic bag with a ... hose
What's this? "Restore Vitality to your Relationship."
Restore? I've just spent 10 months trying to render it moribund.
Phone rings.
Christ!
Picks up cordless but before he can say
hello, the voice starts. He tries a couple of
times to interject a word, by which he
discovers that this is a taped message.
TELEMARKETER
(phone voice)
Hello, D. Malcolm Lanchester, are you prepared for a big surprise?
MALCOLM
Well, the truth is...
TELEMARKETER
This is Mary Delaney, your personal winners' counselor from Family
Magazines incorporated. I am authorized to inform you that you are
one of a select group of winners in the 7 million dollar national
jackpot.
MALCOLM
Uhh....
TELEMARKETER
(phone voice)
I need to talk to you in person to determine the best way for you to
receive your money while getting the maximum tax advantage.
Please press the star key to be connected to me live!
Congratulations, Mr. Lanchester.
He presses the star key. We hear a buzz on
the line, then the sound of a toilet flush.
A TELEMARKETER with a cordless headset,
enters from the wing, pulling up her skirt,
adjusting it.
TELEMARKETER (cont'd)
Well, hi, D. Malcolm Lanchester, I bet you're darned excited about
winning this money!
She grabs a paper towel from offstage.
MALCOLM
(digital voice)
Hello, you have reached area code 212 452-7890, the personal
answering machine of D. Malcolm Lanchester. He has instructed me
to tell you that if you do not hang up this phone within 10 seconds
after the termination of this message, or if you ever call this number
again, a deadly virus will be released into your computer network,
reaming the memory out like a quart of Drano.
TELEMARKETER
(rushing off)
Shit!
MALCOLM hangs up the phone, scoops up
the catalogue, then walks to mirror,
executes what could almost be a
professional dance step... a crudely
performed pirouette?... a tango dancer's
ole?... and finishes, posing with the cover
delicately held towards the mirror.
MALCOLM
Not dead yet!
TELEMARKETER
(running across stage)
Supervisor! Supervisor to station 5!
He returns to bar takes a sip from his
martini.
MALCOLM
Age and duplicity will always outwit youth and enthusiasm!
Slowly, from the opposite side of the stage
where the TELEMARKETER exited, comes a
wheel chair. In it is EVA, 79 years old,
holding a phone. MALCOLM'S phone rings.
MALCOLM (cont'd)
Hello, you have reached the answering machine of D. Malcolm
Lanchester...
EVA
Oh for God's sake, Donnie, stop playing games. This is serious.
MALCOLM
Mother?
EVA
No, Donnie, it's Hilary Clinton from Chapaqua!
MALCOLM
Mother, if you insist upon using my first name, can you please call
me Donald not... .
EVA
"Donnie" yes. I just forget. At seventy-nine, people forget... I could
never understand why you hated your given name so.
MALCOLM
Donald? It's revolting... it's so damned Disney.
EVA
All right, I hate to have to call you like this, but I just wanted to get
in touch with you... personally... before... well, before
MALCOLM
Before I heard it from someone else? Probably makes sense. What's
up, mom?
EVA
Well, you know I had that fall last week...
MALCOLM
Sure, but Charles said...
EVA
Yes, I have been getting better. However, I started feeling a little
short of breath, you know...
MALCOLM
Oh...
EVA
Well, I thought things over a bit. I mean the idea of being seventy
nine years old seemed daunting. So I came to the conclusion that...
well, that this would be a good time to die.
MALCOLM puts down the phone, crosses to
the mirror, puts his hands to his head with
a look of "Oh, God!" on his face and walks
through the frame then downstage and
plays the scene directly with EVA. She has
put down her phone.
MALCOLM
Now, Mom, suicide...
EVA
Let me finish here, Donnie... Donald.
So I thought about it. Sylvia's getting over the divorce, loves her
new job at Bergoffs...
MALCOLM
Bergdorf's, Mother.
During the following, EVA works her mouth
in a strange manner, trying to dislodge
something in her teeth.
EVA
Yes. And Charles is getting better with Research and Development...
MALCOLM
That's a matter of opinion.
EVA
Exactly. Yours and mine. And we know how those differences turn
out, don't we.
He crosses away.
EVA (cont'd)
Anyway, I thought, "What better time?" I mean, who needs to be
eighty, for God's sake.
MALCOLM
Now, Mom... You can retire from running the company. We can
muddle through, even with that damned Charles. I can't have you
entertaining the idea of... What in the hell is the matter, Mother?
EVA
Something in my teeth... Have you a toothpick? Damn gristle in the
beef Wellington
MALCOLM gets toothpick from bar.
MALCOLM
Here, for Heaven's sake. Now, I just can't entertain these suicidal
thoughts.
EVA
Who said anything about suicide? I'm telling you I already died...
She dislodges the food.
EVA (cont'd)
about an hour ago. There, that's much better.
MALCOLM
My God...
EVA
And let me tell you, the relief of not having all the responsibilities...
MALCOLM
How? What have you done, Mother?
EVA
Pay attention, Donnie! I died.
She hands him the toothpick.
MALCOLM
But... but you...
EVA
Are you going to frame that toothpick as a family memento?
Dazed, he throws it away.
EVA (cont'd)
Not on the floor, Donnie!!
Still dazed, retrieves it, puts it on bar.
MALCOLM
How could you... how can you... ?
EVA
It was the easiest thing in the world, dear. Just kind of laid back in
my chair and... poof. Gone!
[
top
]
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.