Doodle, Doodle: A Play of Harsh Revenge in One Act
The Cast
Johnny — a forty-five-year-old man
Janice — a forty-five-year-old woman; Johnny’s wife
Valerie Dooble — in her thirties, an officer of the Maine State Police
A hand
Setting: The interior two service bays in the rear of an old gas station located near an off-ramp of Interstate 95 in northern Maine. It is clear that a portion of the facility has been remodeled into a convenience store, with a door to the store, stage right, opening onto the two bays. Car service is all self-serve and gas only. The bays are largely empty though there is a stack of old tires off to one side. A hydraulic lift is permanently stuck about two feet off the floor. Stage right, and near the door to the store, is some shelving containing canned and paper goods for the store. To the right of that is a grease pit with a raised edging about four inches above the surface of the floor. On the walls are old shelving, mostly empty; old calendars; “girlie” pictures from another time. It is a moody place—stark, dirty, utilitarian, a reminder of a time of men and men’s places, and of a time when a certain skill and little education could still enable a man to earn a living. Far stage right can be seen a portion of the exterior of the convenience store; far stage left, outside, is the front of an old gray Plymouth car.
Scene 1
Janice and Johnny, husband and wife, owners of the convenience store, are in the old service bays. It is early evening, and Johnny is sitting on the floor in the doorway of the right service bay. He is looking through some boxes on the shelves of store goods and eating an apple that he occasionally places on one of the shelves. Johnny is “off” while Janice is working. An electronic doodle-doodle device occasionally sounds, summoning Janice back into the store. As the scene opens, Janice is standing near the grease pit and looking down into it.
Johnny
Janice?
Janice moves her head slowly in Johnny’s direction though she says nothing.
Honey?
Janice
I’m right here.
Johnny
Move away from there now. Lookin’ don’t change nothin’. Come here.
Janice
It’s interesting. Like looking into an aquarium. Have we ever had an aquarium, Johnny? It makes me think of a cage without bars so the fish don’t know how bad a deal they have. Anyway, I don’t think we’ve ever had one. I think I’d remember. I really do.
Johnny
A little problem, honey. I need your attention. Can you come here?
Janice
Still looking into the pit, a nervous looking—into it, away, into it, and so on.
A little problem, honey. I certainly might say it is a little problem, honey.
Johnny
That’s not what I meant. We’re out of tuna.
Janice
Walking slowly over to Johnny—walking with difficulty as if injured or stiff from too much exercise.
Tuna?
Johnny
Not a can.
Janice
K. R. was just here. Two days ago? Three?
Johnny
I didn’t check the invoice. I mean, when have we ever not gotten tuna?
Janice
You’re talking about tuna.
Johnny
I am. Tuna fish. Canned. Packed in spring water.
Janice
Quite distracted, rattled, something on her mind.
Tuna, tuna. Say it often enough and it just goes away. Tuna-loo. Tuna-poo. Certainly seems a strange thing to be talking about. Did you know I once had a woman ask me if our tuna came from dolphin-friendly fisheries? I told her we just get it and people eat it. I think she had a hot dog.
Johnny
I’m just . . . We need to do some things. Shit. What do we need—
Janice
Interrupting.
We could be talking about the space shuttle or mutual funds. Even hysterectomies. I don’t think we’ve ever talked about hysterectomies. Are you talking about hysterectomies, Johnny? I once talked to someone who said we should make the hysterectomy as common for little girls as circumcision is for little boys.
Johnny
I’m not talking about hysterectomies, Janice. Why would I be talking about hysterectomies? Why would someone want to do that, about the little girls, I mean?
Janice
Because—eggs. That would be next. You’d want to talk about eggs and hysterectomies, and then you’d tell me how much you like eggs, any eggs, scrambled, fried, boiled, poached. I suppose the history of the egg would be next, and then we’d talk about their rights and responsibilities. That’s how your mind works, Johnny.
Johnny
My mind?
Janice
Yes. The one that’s talking about tuna while mine is trying to remember how to spell evisceration. I tend to think if I can’t spell it, I can’t do it, and I’d really like to do it, Johnny. Either that or impalement—and I can spell that. They used to do a lot of impalements in the Middle Ages. I suppose if you did it right you could keep someone hanging around for days and days. I imagine it would be pretty uncomfortable, pretty painful. Don’t you think it would be painful, Johnny? I’m sorry. What were you talking about?
Johnny
I was talking about tuna. About not getting any from K. R. That’s pretty simple.
Janice
Oh, that’s right. Not many men talk about tuna. You might be the only one I’ve ever heard. Do you suppose there’s any tuna in Maine? I mean in the lakes or bays or rivers? You might want to look into that. Maybe you could become a tuna expert, one of those people on the morning shows who are always consulted when people have big questions about tuna. Perhaps there’s greatness in you, Johnny. True greatness.
Johnny
I don’t know if that’s allowed up here, honey. We’re so far from everything. I think greatness likes a lot of company.
Janice
Gently touching herself, looking at herself.
I hope I’m not bleeding.
Johnny
Taking a final bite of his apple and throwing it into the grease pit.
What?
Janice
Nothing, Johnny. Nothing at all.
Johnny
Just keep talking, Janice. I think that’s pretty good, a good thing to do, anything you want at all. Tuna’s good, even funny. Might be good to talk about something funny for a while.
Janice
How many men does it take to can a tuna, Johnny?
Johnny
Smiling.
I don’t know.
Janice
I was hoping you would. Seems like someone ought to know that. Sorry, Johnny. That’s about as funny as I feel right now.
Johnny
It’s a start.
Janice
Walking over to the grease pit and looking down into it.
Do you suppose that’s enough? Just keep talking?
A doodle-doodle sound comes from the store just then and Janice goes inside for the customer. Johnny moves away from the shelving and gives himself a full-body, leisurely stretch followed by a loud yawn. Returning to the shelving, he picks up a cardboard box clearly labeled Baking Soda, puts it on the floor, and opens it. He takes several smaller boxes out of the carton and walks over to the grease pit. Very casual, very nonchalant, he opens the boxes and empties them into the pit. Janice returns.
Johnny
I thought—
Janice
The smell?
Johnny
Yes. Shit, cologne, blood. It’s heavy.
Janice
Maybe some of those air fresheners? The little pine trees you hang on your rearview mirror? We have some of those.
Johnny
A pine tree smell? I don’t think that’ll help. But I think the baking soda will. Hon?
Janice
What?
Johnny
I can work. I mean, we could just close for the night. But I can work. I don’t mind.
Janice
It’s just beer tonight. You know that. Just the boys and their beer, but they’d be awfully disappointed if they came to get it and we were closed. Sometimes I think the only thing we have to sell here is our predictability. “Janice & Johnny’s General Store—Six A.M. to Midnight.” In an uncertain world, we offer . . . beer. (giggles)
Johnny
You’re hurting, though. Why don’t you go upstairs?
Janice
Hurting?
Johnny
Your walk. You’re walking hard. Are you sore? Is your ankle—how’s your ankle doing?
Janice
I’m OK, Johnny. I think moving around’s better than just sitting. I wish it was busier, even real busy.
Johnny
Janice?
Janice
The public wants an update. How is the president doing? Were they able to save his colon? His balls? Can we see photos of his polyps, his stitches, his catheter?
Johnny
I only meant . . .
Janice
In the interests of science, Johnny, with a small dash of jurisprudence thrown in, every bone in my body, all the muscles, most of my tendons, my lovely breasts, my cheek, my neck, and one toe, they’re all—
Johnny
Jesus.
Janice
Manageable, if quite disgusted over how they’ve been treated lately. I don’t blame them. Not at all.
Johnny
I think a lie would have been better. I don’t care if you want to lie tonight, about anything at all.
Janice
We can’t lie right now, not to each other.
Johnny steps over to Janice and begins massaging her neck and shoulders, causing obvious pain and obvious comfort. Increasingly, it becomes clear that Janice has been hurt and that she’s hurting.
Johnny
A toe?
Janice
I think it’s broken. It reminds me of that old passage from the Bible, something like “an eye for an eye, a toe for a toe,” or something like that. I could have it wrong, although this does seem like a biblical time, doesn’t it, Johnny?
Johnny
A biblical time? I don’t know. What do you mean?
Janice
That’s when everybody says vengeance belongs to the Lord. That we just have to sit around and take it but it’s OK. He’ll make good on it someday. They don’t realize that was a joke. He was making a joke. Just trying to tell us He can’t do it all. Never could.
Johnny kneels down and, after Janice points to the foot, he removes her shoe (a sneaker) and examines her foot. He notices, then, the inside of her thigh and raises her dress to her waist, revealing a badly bruised inner thigh, discolored from her knee upward.
Johnny
Oh, honey. Oh, Christ.
Janice
So I said to my daddy, “I’m OK, Daddy. These things happen in a biblical time.”
Johnny
And Daddy said, “There, there.”
Janice
Standing quickly, one shoe off and one shoe on.
Not my daddy.
Johnny
No?
Janice
Looking over toward the grease pit.
My daddy said, “Let’s kill the sons a bitches.”
Johnny
That’s what he said?
Janice
My daddy’s dead, Johnny.
Johnny
Of course he is.
Janice
But he would have said, “If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out. If thy left—don’t do anything stupid.”
Johnny
All this Bible, Janice. Where’s that coming from? You been sneakin’ off to church on me?
Janice
I don’t think so.
Johnny
You don’t think so?
Janice
I’d know it if I had. I truly would. Maybe it’s just death.
Johnny
Death?
Janice
Death makes me think of old books, old crinkly things that smell like history. Like when you’re near it you think of the Bible. It’s supposed to tell you that death’s all right and everything; you know, things are really going to get good after death is over.
Johnny
Nobody’s died, sweetheart.
Janice
Not yet. But you did something, Johnny. You fucked around with death until it said, “OK, OK.” I was proud of you.
Johnny
I guess I did something, didn’t I? Something like that. Yes, I did. Don’t ask me where it came from, but I did.
Janice
I know.
Johnny
I shot him.
Janice
Yes you did.
Johnny
Hell, I shot both of them.
Janice
I know that. I was there.
Johnny
With their own gun.
Janice
In the foot.
Johnny
And the hand.
Janice
No more racquetball.
Johnny
He did, too.
Janice
What?
Johnny
Play racquetball. I bet he did. He had a look about him like that, kind of fit but, you know, wearing a suit and all. I bet he did. Probably had a secretary make regular court reservations for him, too.
Janice
Secretaries do that?
Johnny
I don’t know. I’ve never had a secretary, only a wife.
Janice
I don’t think a secretary would fit in here. She’d probably want minimum wage and regular breaks. She might like to bowl, though, like that other guy. Did you notice him, Johnny? Big arms and small wrists? I think he’d be a bowler. Tuesday nights, a bunch of beers. Not anymore, though.
Johnny
Good-bye to all that.
Janice
And screwing.
Johnny
What?
Janice
No more screwing. There’s a lot of motion in screwing, Johnny. You need good hands and feet if you’re going to walk a woman right to the edge and still hold on to her. Trust me.
Johnny
Laughing.
Is that a complaint?
Janice
Just a joke. I have no complaints about you, Johnny. Not after what you did. You were a hero. You really were. I only wish I could tell people about it.
Johnny
Why can’t you tell anybody about it? I mean, maybe not right now but . . .
Janice
Not after what we have to do, Johnny.
The doodle-doodle sounds and Janice walks offstage into the store. Johnny again walks over to the grease pit and picks up the empty baking soda boxes he’d dropped earlier.
Johnny
“Screwing,” she said. That’s a helluva thing. I hadn’t even thought of that, of all things. Surprising what your mind gets on or what it don’t get on in the middle of a whole shitfire, though I suppose you boys was working your way up to it. Am I right? Getting Janice tenderized and all? Things to do with duct tape. We used to call it the poor man’s whore. I think we did, or maybe somebody did, one of them ways I guess you can turn no into yes. Say, can you hold your hand up there, just a little? Yeah—oh boy. That’s a working hand, ain’t it? Funny how they can swell up like that. Anyway, I gotta tell you, because you’ll get a kick out of it—I mean, not just to get you pissed or make you feel bad, but that was the first time, the both times, I ever fired a gun. Can you believe it? I mean, I don’t hunt, and we don’t even keep one in the store, my wife and I. It’s just a shit-little place, most of the customers ring up their own stuff, that kind of place, you know? Whoa—that foot. You don’t want to move that foot, buddy. It’s not looking good, is it? What? Say again? Water? Well, you just got chemistry going on, you see. Rushing everything to the wound. Things’ll balance out, give it some time. I’ll see about some water—but I wouldn’t get my hopes up, I was you.
Janice returns. She has two cans of beer and gives one to Johnny.
Janice
That was a sheriff’s deputy. One of those K-9 cops with a dog in his car, a big dog, maybe a Rottweiler. I don’t like those big dogs, Johnny, even if they are on the right side of the law.
Johnny
Buying beer?
Janice
The dog?
Johnny
See? It’s still there—pretty funny. Um, the deputy?
Janice
Said they were looking for someone.
Johnny
That’s what they do.
Janice
Two men. Seems an old couple was forced to the shoulder out on the interstate. They were beaten pretty badly. He said a tire iron, maybe pistol-whipped.
Johnny
Robbed?
Janice
Nope. Gray car, though. The old man thought it was an old Plymouth.
Johnny
Pointing off to stage left.
Like this one?
Janice
Johnny?
Johnny
Huh?
Janice
I don’t think we have the same questions as the sheriff. He just wants to know who did what so that the big gears, the big wheels, and the fan belts in the courthouse can start turning. I think there’s some things we know that he doesn’t.
Johnny
Walking over to the grease pit.
Maybe a whole lot of things. Wouldn’t it be funny to see these boys’ pictures on one of them crime shows and know that people all over the country are looking for them? To see that and we got ’em right here? Is he gone? The deputy?
Janice
He just wanted to know if we’d seen anything odd.
Johnny
We have.
Janice
We sure have. But I didn’t say that.
Johnny
Of course you didn’t. What could you say? Wife got beaten up. Husband to the rescue. Next thing you know I’d be in jail for trying to right a grievous wrong.
Janice
Real grievous, Johnny. About as grievous as it gets. Really, I thought I’d die when you grabbed that gun. I saw you dead, and I saw them dragging me out in the woods behind the car. I thought it was going to hurt a lot and that maybe they were going to cut my head off.
Johnny
Cut your head off?
Janice
The real bad guys are doing that these days. I’ve read about it. It’s not like with a big axe or anything, either. They just take a knife and slice it right off like a big roast or something. Of course our bad guys didn’t because you were there. Mr. Johnny just turned it all into magic.
Johnny
I had to do something. You’d think they would have been satisfied just getting the money. Wouldn’t you? You rob a place, you get the cookies, and—poof!
Janice
Poof?
Johnny
Poof! Bingo! Shazam! Four hours later, you’re in Boston explaining to the wife you had to work late. Anyway, Janice, your eyes was getting glassy like you didn’t have much left inside of you.
Janice
I didn’t.
Johnny
I know.
Janice
I thought maybe my eyes were bleeding, because everything was getting all dark and red and fuzzy. That’s how death comes to you, I think, but I wasn’t ready to go there so I fought. It wasn’t enough but I tried.
Johnny
You stayed with ’em, hon’. I saw that. They were just . . . well, you stayed with ’em, and I was proud of you.
Janice
Do you think you shot them enough, Johnny?
Johnny
I think they’re wishing they’d stayed the night somewhere and got up for the all-you-can-eat breakfast. What did you tell him—the deputy?
Janice
I said we’d caught them and that we’d take care of things. Why bother the county—just makes taxes go up.
Johnny walks to the back of the garage where some lumber is stacked up against the wall. He moves some two-by-fours and one-by-eights and begins pulling out a four-by-eight sheet of plywood. Janice comes over to help him.
Johnny
Taxes?
Janice
I told him I loved him and asked when he was going to take me up to Quebec City where we could talk dirty in French.
Johnny
You never talk dirty to me in French.
Janice
I don’t know French. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t commit.
Johnny
Real good, Janice. Jesus. It’s like you’re waking up from an operation or something. You’ve been here but not here, and now you’re slowly coming back.
Together Janice and Johnny bring the plywood sheet near the grease pit, then let it fall flat on the floor, partially covering the opening. As they squat at one end of it—facing the audience—and start to push it completely over the opening, a hand, white and covered with baking soda, is seen poking upward as though looking for some kind of handhold. As the plywood slides against it, there is a loud yelp from within the pit, and the hand disappears downward.
Johnny
You shouldn’t put any weight on that foot!
End of Scene 1
Scene 2
It is about four in the morning, several days later. There is a dim glow, perhaps some flashing neon, from the convenience store that suggests it is there but that it is closed. Janice enters the garage. She is wearing an old nightgown that is either strategically torn (she would have such a garment), or skimpy enough to reveal many of her bruises and scratches. She turns on an old, hanging trouble light, then takes one of the two-by-fours and presses it against the plywood sheet to move it away from the grease pit opening.
Janice
Yoo-hoo . . .
She goes over and takes the trouble light off the hook where it is hanging and walks with it back to the pit.
Hello down there.
She has clearly gotten a whiff of a putrid smell emanating from the grease pit and her reaction is obvious by her facial expression, perhaps a slight gag.
Infection, I think. Smells like you’ve gone a little beyond the lilies of the field, probably be going farther still. It’s a shame we couldn’t have taken better care of you, but my husband and I, well, we didn’t want to. Isn’t that a hoot? Forty years of Christian virtue gone because of a little mayhem—although it was my mayhem, and it wasn’t very nice. Really, you were pretty good at being pretty bad. I’ll give you that. I won’t give you anything else, though—the Christian virtue thing. Gone. All of it. I can’t even imagine myself buying Girl Scout cookies anymore. That’s something I wouldn’t have thought about. Not the Girl Scout cookies. I don’t mean that. I mean like you’ve just changed my life all around now, and I don’t appreciate that. I didn’t want to be different, and now I am. Shit.
She squats at the edge of the grease pit and lays the trouble light down so it’s just over the edge of the pit.
Are you hungry? I know I always get hungry when I have a fever. I mean, it can even be stomach flu and I’ll still feel like I could eat the face off a pumpkin. You know, a Halloween pumpkin—scary stuff. My mother used to say if you ate the face off a pumpkin nothing bad could ever happen to you for the rest of your life. I don’t think she really believed that, but it’s something parents say so that their kids will think there’s a reason why they’re treated like shit. Some of them. What about you? You guys got any kids? Either of you? You don’t look real young, you know. Guess that’s how you fooled me. I just thought you were guys. Nice guys. Guys who wouldn’t hurt me the way you did. God, I’m still sore. I mean, I’ve never been beaten up before, so I don’t really know what you’re supposed to feel. Isn’t that funny? Even Johnny’s never beat me, not ever. We’re not like that—although I don’t know why anybody’s like that, why you’d have a marriage if that’s all you want to do, just to hit her. Oh. Hey, speaking of hitting. One time—you’ll appreciate this—I went to one of those women’s self-defense classes, and they said you could use a hatpin to disarm an attacker. The instructor said it was hugely effective, but I don’t think anyone knew what a hatpin was. Isn’t that a hoot? Anyway, I think it would have been better to have someone come in and punch us around a bit—you know, a fist in the gut, the nose. A nice punch to the jaw. Really, if I’d had some idea what it would all feel like, I might have handled myself more respectably. And you guys, well, maybe you’d be someplace else right now.
Janice continues talking as she goes over to the box of baking soda, gets another couple of cartons, and empties them slowly over the men in the pit.
You ever beat your wife? Your wives? Just other people’s wives? Not a bad arrangement, and I guess I can tell you I might have some idea how you do it, what goes on inside when you just have to beat on someone. I mean—I want—it won’t go away what I’m feeling, like if I had some snakes I’d toss them down there onto you, or spiders or rats, and I don’t know why. I’m not like that. Really. But I have a can of kerosene here we use sometimes when the electric goes out, and I really want to pour it down there and light you up, watch you puff and pop like a bunch of gypsy moths. But I guess it’s like Johnny said—
A light goes on in the store and a few moments later Johnny enters, dressed and ready to open the store at six.
Johnny
Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. What did I say?
Janice
Morning, bossman.
Johnny
Morning, bosswoman. You’re up early. Did I really say it?
Janice
What?
Johnny
What you said I said.
Janice
Oh, I was just saying—Johnny?
Johnny
Hm?
Janice
They really smell.
Johnny
The human condition.
Janice
Condition, maybe. I think the human’s running a little thin. Maybe we should try some bathroom spray, or maybe some bleach. I don’t think the baking soda’s working anymore.
Johnny
I could bring a fan out here.
Janice
Oh! That’s what I was saying.
Johnny
That I should bring a fan out here?
Janice and Johnny both walk closer to the grease pit. Janice looks down into it and begins speaking.
Janice
Johnny said we should just call 911 and get the sheriff and an ambulance and be done with it. We could tell them we were scared, paralyzed, didn’t know what to do. Do you think they’d believe that?
Johnny
Or we could just say we were going to feed them to the rats and then changed our minds.
Janice
We don’t have rats.
Johnny
That’s like a figure of speech. Maybe bears. Bears would work. You guys ever think about being eaten by bears?
Janice
I’d like that, Johnny, I really would. There’s all that fear with the big animal, and then pain after pain after pain as you feel your guts ripped away or your foot chewed off.
Johnny
Jesus, Janice. You want some aspirin or something?
Janice
I doubt they’ve ever thought much about bears. There’s a city look about them, Johnny—getting rough, though, like they walked down the wrong alley. City alleys can be a bitch, I’ve heard. Anyway, city people don’t worry about being eaten by bears.
Johnny
You still want to do that?
Janice
Feed them to the bears? I don’t think we have any bears. How would you go about finding a bear?
Johnny
No—I meant call 911.
Janice
That’s only for emergencies, hon. I don’t think this is an emergency, at least not now. Maybe the other night it was.
Johnny
Oh. It’s just that I thought I saw some hope down there.
Janice
Hope?
Johnny
Down there. 911’s the number you call for hope these days. It’s available to anyone. Progress, I guess.
Janice
Hope in a phone. You just discover that, Johnny? You been cleaning lint out of your navel again?
Janice leans over the grease pit then.
You boys having any hope down there? Doesn’t look like it to me. I think they’re having some trauma, maybe some despair. I can understand that.
Janice, leaning over the grease pit, dangerously so, raises her nightie to reveal her breasts.
This is hope, boys.
Johnny moves closer to Janice, concerned about how far she is leaning over the pit.
You had it, you lost it. Isn’t that always the way?
Johnny
Janice?
Still holding her nightie up, Janice embraces Johnny. They kiss and hold each other, Janice’s loud moans eventually revealing that she is sobbing.
Janice
Oh, goddamn it all. Why us, Johnny? Why us? We’ve never done anything but work and be nice to people and be fair and give good service. I mean, even the drunks. I’ve never shortchanged a drunk or an old lady or a drunk old lady or a drunk kid . . .
Janice slides down Johnny to her knees. The doodle-doodle tone sounds and they both look toward the door to the store.
Are we open?
Johnny
It’s not even five.
Janice
Outside lights on?
Johnny
Nope.
Janice
Someone lost off the highway?
Johnny
My guess.
From stage right a figure is seen in the shadows, coming around the side of the building toward the open bay doors. As the figure comes toward the front of the stage it is gradually clear it is a woman, dressed in the uniform of the Maine State Police. It is Trooper Valerie Dooble.
You hear something?
Janice
Just raging hormones. The effects of injury on a shallow imagination. I don’t know whether to have sex or kill myself. I suppose I could do both but the proper order would be important.
Johnny
OK, that, too. I meant something outside.
Janice
Just a figure of speech, Johnny. As you put it. I think I’m hungry. Have I eaten in recent memory?
Johnny walks slowly toward the open bay door. It is clear that he and the trooper are about to meet.
Johnny
You had a sandwich last night.
Janice
Oh. I forgot. Must be that post-traumatic stress thing. You know what? Last night? I was doing some bills just to get my mind off things—and I really did.
Johnny
Did what?
Janice
Got my mind off things. Really. Except that I went to sign some checks—and I couldn’t. My name. It was just gone. I must have sat there for five minutes knowing I had one and certain it would come to me. I thought for a while it was one of those identity theft things, but I wasn’t sure how that worked.
Johnny
You serious?
Johnny collides at the edge of the bay doorway with the State Trooper.
Officer Dooble
Whoa!
Janice sees right away that it’s the trooper, and reaches over to the plywood sheet, realizing quickly that trying to cover the pit would be more obvious than leaving it uncovered. She gets to her feet and walks over to her husband and the trooper.
Johnny
To the trooper.
Scared the pickles out of me! Are you all right, sir? Ma’am?
Officer Dooble
No, sir. I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again.
Johnny
I’m really sorry. I heard some noises. I didn’t think—
Officer Dooble
Not your fault, sir. I was just wondering if anyone might have been working on some early coffee. I know you’re not open yet. I shouldn’t have been sneaking around.
Janice
Are you new up here? I don’t think we’ve seen you before.
Officer Dooble
Valerie Dooble. Just temporary this far north. Some sick leave has stretched things pretty thin around the state, and of course the big case is running us hard, very hard.
Janice
Big case?
Officer Dooble
The double murder north of Bangor, on ninety-five. You must have heard of it.
Johnny
The beating?
Janice
An old couple?
Officer Dooble
Too old, maybe. Neither one of them got through it.
Janice
How sad.
Officer Dooble
Pretty vicious, actually. Savage. Really savage, the sort of thing you expect in one of those countries where someone’s god tells them certain humans have all the worth of fish spit. Broke the hearts of some troopers who thought themselves pretty tough.
Johnny
Two men, that’s what we heard. Sheriff’s deputy stopped by the other day.
Officer Dooble
And a gray car, an old car. Beyond that, nothing.
Janice
Nothing? No witnesses?
Officer Dooble
None that would come forth. It was pretty quiet out on the highway that night. I think a storm might have been predicted. Anyone stopping to help would have seen the peril right away and would have known those boys had gotten a good look at them. We will find them, however. We will do that.
Johnny
I guess we’re all kind of scared these days. Still, I would have thought that, you know, with cell phones and all that someone . . .
Officer Dooble
Not a witness. Not a trace. The old man was able to tell us about a gray car. He said one of the men looked like a boss—funny way to put it—said he had gray hair and wore a suit. He was the mean one.
Janice
They both were.
Officer Dooble
Excuse me?
Janice
I meant, a beating—anyone—you gotta be mean to be a part of it. We got some boys around here, they’d make a pit bull look like a bunny.
Officer Dooble
Looking around.
What’s going on out here? Any problem?
Johnny
Problem?
Officer Dooble
The coffee. This doesn’t seem like where you’d make the coffee.
Johnny
Laughing.
Oh. It’s a little early—
Janice
Out here, you see—
Johnny
We were just—
Janice
We come out here to—
Johnny
Dreaming.
Officer Dooble
Dreaming?
Johnny
Yeah, dreaming. Um, remodeling—out here—there’s so much space, so many things we could do. We look at it, we think about it, and of course we haven’t done anything, at least not yet.
Officer Dooble
Sounds like my husband.
Janice
But it’s all here, isn’t it? I mean, we don’t need the storage because corporate’s always telling us don’t store anything. We get it, we sell it, they deliver more. Still, doing anything, it’s so expensive. Johnny’s good with his hands, real good, but just buying the stuff—
Officer Dooble walks in toward the lift in the bay, stage left, appraising the space, listening. Janice and Johnny trying to keep between her and the pit. Officer Dooble leans/sits on one rail of the lift.
You know—a motel—isn’t that what you said, Johnny? We could add on, build a few rooms, nothing fancy.
Johnny
Nothing big.
Janice
No, nothing big. Half-dozen rooms. Maybe expand the food to sandwiches and soups. Not a restaurant. That just kills you, and there’s no money in it. Hunting season, though. We could make a bundle in hunting season. There’s a lot of access roads around here, but no place to stay, so we could do that—make a bundle.
Officer Dooble
I bet you could. I see you’ve even got an old grease pit.
Janice
Smiling.
The swimming pool?
Janice looks quickly over at Johnny, alarmed.
Johnny
Back when they still worked on cars somebody put the lift in. You’d a thought they might of filled it in, but they didn’t. Just a hole now. I’ve even tried to think of some things to do with it, but nothing’s come up.
Janice
Barbecue pit?
Officer Dooble
There you go.
Janice walks slowly out of the bay door to the outside, trying to distract Officer Dooble.
She looks a little banged up, sir.
Johnny
Just bruises. This isn’t an easy place to keep, and we have to do everything ourselves. You get knocked around. You get hurt. Janice—she does her share even when I tell her some stuff maybe she ought to let me do.
Office Dooble walks over to Janice in the bay doorway.
Officer Dooble
You all right ma’am?
Janice
Is my husband beating me? Is that the question?
Officer Dooble
I don’t know. Is it?
Janice
No, officer. A lot of things get away. A lot of things don’t work no matter how hard you try, and there’s always time beating on you, or money, or your own discouragement—but not my husband. He’s a gentle man. Sometimes, if he’s feeling shitty, he writes songs, real good songs. Trouble is . . .
Officer Dooble
If you need anything—
Janice
. . . He sings like a frog.
Johnny
I heard that!
Janice
A frog who ought to be getting the coffee started right now.
Janice and Johnny start edging toward the door to the store.
And heating some rolls. Why don’t you heat up some rolls, Johnny. Officer Dooble—a little breakfast?
Officer Dooble
In a minute.
Janice
What?
Officer Dooble
I’m just curious about this old grease pit. There aren’t many places that have them anymore.
Johnny
It’s greasy.
Janice
It isn’t empty.
Officer Dooble
Looking at Janice.
I know, honey.
Officer Dooble walks over to the grease pit and looks down in it while Janice continues talking.
Janice
They tied duct tape around my neck, just around it again and again, like twirling me around and around. They got in their car and did slow donuts around the parking lot. Did you ever do slow donuts, Officer? I thought I was going to be killed by slow donuts, because the driver held on to the tape with one hand, and they’d ripped my clothes off, well, most of them, an embarrassing most of them, and I was trying to hold on and not fall, trying to do a lot of things. Really, you can be pretty busy when you’re being killed. Just me outside with those boys, because Johnny was tied up inside, at least for a while, until he got loose and he came out. Then he was—what were you, Johnny?—I said it one time just a few days ago—oh, yes—magnificent. That’s what he was—magnificent. It took me awhile to think of the word but then it really fit. Magnificent. Jesus. You said you were married, Officer Dooble?
Officer Dooble
Yes.
Janice
Has your husband ever been magnificent?
Officer Dooble
I’ll ask him sometime. I think I know what he’ll say.
Janice
I know. They’re like that, aren’t they? Johnny, though, he was magnificent. You see, they’d tied a rope around my hands, too, and the other end to a hitch on the car. They kept revving the engine like they were going to take off, revving it and laughing and laughing. They seemed to be having such a good time I almost felt like laughing with them, though it occurred to me you shouldn’t laugh at your own mugging, your own torture, your own most horrible abuse and humiliation and degradation . . . and, oh, oh shit, I’ve just gone on and on, haven’t I?
Officer Dooble
My god.
Janice
Yours, maybe. I wasn’t sure where mine was. I thought maybe he was taking a nap or maybe I’d pissed him off.
Officer Dooble
But you’re . . . ?
Janice
All right? Am I all right? I’m healing, ma’am. The body never really has to worry about shame or embarrassment, so I feel a little better each day.
Johnny
She’s got it down right, you know. They were good-time boys and they were going to have some fun.
Janice
I suppose I looked pretty funny about that time, pretty raggedy what with blood coming out my nose and pee running down my legs. Oh—maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But pretty raggedy and funny looking like any woman when she’s just plucked right out of the air and told she’s going to be somebody’s good time.
Officer Dooble
I don’t think—I don’t imagine you looked funny, honey. I wouldn’t think that at all.
Janice
Well, as I said—I guess it’s all right to say it—I’d peed myself, too. I was all wet even up and down ’cause they had me juggled all over the place. It’s so scary when you do that, it’s like the body is already writing itself off as dead. Time to clean things out, you know, and I kept yelling, maybe screaming. Was I screaming, Johnny? I think I was screaming.
Johnny
You were screaming.
Janice
I was screaming.
Johnny
Saved your life.
Janice
It did?
Johnny
They didn’t see me coming up to the car. They were watching you holler and scream and, well—you know—they were laughing. They were laughing at you.
Janice
Oh. OK. I wasn’t just screaming, though. I was saying something. I’m not sure what, maybe, “Why me? Why would you do this?” That, too, that was pretty funny.
Officer Dooble
Funny?
Janice
They were going to chop me up like kindling and scatter me like a pile of leaves, and the best I could think of was to ask for a reason.
Officer Dooble
To Johnny.
So you shot them?
Johnny
I had no plan, sir.
Officer Dooble
Of course you didn’t. I understand that.
Johnny
When I finally got the tape off of myself I thought, well, sir, this is when you see how strong you are, or whether you deserve this fine woman who right now needs your protection, and whether you can rip the goddamn door off the car or crash through the windshield or just do something, because if you don’t there’s no reason for all the years you spent together, all those years of trust and helping and even having good times. As I said, though, they was laughing at Janice and tossing her all over the asphalt, distracted, I guess, because all I did was walk right up to that car and reach in the window and grab the gun out of his hand, the boy with the suit, the good-looking boy. Yes, ma’am.
Officer Dooble
To save Janice’s life.
Johnny
I suppose.
Officer Dooble
You suppose?
Johnny
It’s like Janice said. You look for reasons in something like this and it all gets fucked up. I—just—had—to—do—something.
Officer Dooble
Sir?
Johnny
Yes?
Officer Dooble
I’m not accusing you of anything.
Johnny
No.
Officer Dooble
Why didn’t you call the police?
Johnny
There wasn’t any need, ma’am.
Janice
There wasn’t any need.
Officer Dooble
I see.
Janice and Johnny walk slowly toward the door of the store.
Folks?
Johnny
Yes?
Officer Dooble
They raped them, too.
Janice
The old couple?
Officer Dooble
Both of them.
Janice
Bad guys. Really bad guys.
Officer Dooble rises from where she’s been squatting at the pit. Carefully, she removes her gun from her holster, examines it, then fires two shots down into the grease pit. As the three of them go into the store, Johnny’s apple, from days ago, is tossed out of the pit.
Officer Dooble
I could really use some coffee now.
(Curtain)
