Karma Alarm (a sound play)

KARMA ALARM (A sound play with light) rev.


After several rounds at a bar with the guys, Willy tries to find his parked car. He’s been laid off for purloining office supplies where he was clerking as junior legal secretary. After the bars have closed, he is dropped off in a rough neighborhood by a co-worker. Many of the cars on the block look just like his non-descript economy sedan. He tries his key in the closest car. But no matter how hard he tries to fit the key in, it won’t work. 

He is so tight, in the back of his mind he believes that if only he tries hard enough, the wrong car will become the right one and it will make everything all right again. Maybe he’ll get his job back, his wife won’t find out, and leave him, etc. The audience hears sirens in the distance that seem to be converging toward this region of the neighborhood.

CHARACTERS:

WILLY, a recently unemployed legal secretary
CAR ALARM
COP
MAN who lives in the ‘hood.

SCENE: A poorly lit street on the wrong side of town. It’s after 2 AM. The suggestion of rows of nondescript parked cars all looking alike. An inebriated man named Willy, obviously out of his element, is holding onto the one working streetlight—one bulb is burned out, the other is flickering. He peers up at the streetlight, squinting, as if it were the sun. The streetlight doubles as a bus stop.

WILLY: (To the red tail lights of a departing car) Yeah, man. I’ll be fine. It’s right there by that streetlight. (He grabs onto the streetlight as if it were the mast of a wildly tossing boat). Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine. Yeah. Yeah. Shit happens. Thanks for the lift. See you around, man. Bye! (Waving to the tail lights).

(Looks up at the lone streetlight): What are YOU looking at? Haven’t you ever seen a man in this state before—or all they all gay? Guess not. (Snickers. Tries to read the Bus Stop sign attached to the streetlight.) Last bus is at 3 AM. Hmm. (Looks at his watch.) Oops. Forgot about Daylight Savings. Gotta set my watch. How does it go? Spring forward, fall back? Hey lookit, I just saved a whole hour. I’m not late, I’m early. See? Oops. I lost an hour but I still got 15 minutes bar time left. That’s it! (He admires his watch, checks the time).

Oops! The wife will still kill me. She’s gonna kill me already when she hears about me getting fired again. But it looks like there’s plenty of time to catch the next bus! Yeah. Plenty of time to get to the next state. (He laughs. Peers out, with hand over his eyes). Awww, just lookit the state I’m in... (He pulls some postettes out of his pants pocket, ruffles them.) Aha! There she is! (Meaning the car. )

(He lets go of the pole with one hand long enough to rummage in his suit pockets—to the sound of loose coins—for his keys. He drops them, slithers down the pole to retrieve his keys.) Gotcha! Now where’d my car go? Ah. There you are, sweetheart.

It’s not fair, the lousy sonsabitches laying me off like that...telling me I’m lucky they’re not pressing charges. It was only a few pads of legal paper and some lousy number 2 pencils. Oh yeah, and the postettes. They didn’t find the postettes. I hid ‘em in the ashtray. (He puts his index finger to his nose and winks). As if they’d miss that shit. I just wanted it so I could write a novel or something.... Get out of that hellhole job. Shit. What am I gonna tell the wife?

(He tries to fit the key in the door several times but it won’t go in.) Now, why won’t it go in? Somebody been messing with my car? (Looks around furtively, then examines his key. Tries the key again. Peers in the window. Laughs with a sigh of relief. Realizes it’s not his car.) Oops! Wrong one! No baby seat in my car unless the wife is trying to tell me something. No brats in my car. No way!! I keep my sperm in Fort Knox, where it belongs. Interest rates too high for late night deposits. Early penalties for late withdrawals. Nope. No kiddies for me. (Clutches at himself, hoisting up his pants with resolve.}

)He advances to the next parked car like a soldier. But the key won’t fit in it either. He snickers, looks around and sees another car just like the second one. ) Aha! There it is. Now, that family had good taste. Great little car just like mine... Kicks ass. (Tries the key again in the second car and again on third cars. No luck. But this time, a car alarm goes off.)

CAR ALARM: WooopWooopWoop!

WILLY: Shh! Will ya? You’ll wake the neighbors. Shhhhhh!

CAR ALARM: HonkHonkHonkHonk.

WILLY: Aw shit! For Chrissakes. Shaddup! (He’s beginning to panic.)

CAR ALARM: BreepBreepBreep!

WILLY: Oh cripes. They’re gonna fuckin’ kill me. Think I’m stealing their car.

CAR ALARM: RearRearRear! Bwoop! Bwoop?

WILLY: Maybe if I break in, I can shut off the damned alarm. Yeah. That’s it.

CAR ALARM: NeNearNeNearNeNear!

WILLY: I know. I’ll drive it away so they can’t get me.

CAR ALARM: BwoopBwoopBwoop! (Willy’s almost in the car. He doesn’t hear the sound of police sirens approaching. Offstage, the sound of a squad car pulling up, with a squealing of brakes. Car lights dissecting the stage catches Willy in the spotlight like a poached deer. A cop steps out of the darkness with gun at the ready. )

WILLY: Holy fuck! the cops. Got some mints in the glovebox...where are they? Shit. They’re gone. (Breathes into his hand to smell alcohol.) What’s with the postettes, what’re they doing in here? Fucking bitch. She’s been messing around in my car again. I’ll fuckin’ kill her! Messin’ with my postettes.

CAR ALARM: NearNearNearNear!

COP: Come out with your hands up where I can see them. Nice and slow. Now lay down on the ground and spread ‘em....you know the drill. Thaaat’s it.

WILLY: But Officer, I can explain. There’s been a mistake. I thought it was my car and when the alarm went off, I panicked and...

CAR ALARM: NannerNannerNanner! (Alarm cycle stops. Silence.)

COP: Save it for Downtown Mister. You have the right to remain silent...

WILLY: But, but... Have a heart, Officer. Hey, I just lost my job and...and....and... Please don’t take my postettes. I got important notes for a novel I’m gonna write. Hey you can’t do that. Get your hand off me, you fucking pervert. I know my rights, I work for a law firm, you know. I’m not sayin’ nuthin’. I’ll take the Fifth. (Willy gets up off the sidewalk, is handcuffed, and is slowly being led offstage by the cop.)

COP: Sounds like you’ve had a fifth, more like it. Sooooo, my little man, how many drinkies did we have tonight? Let’s put you on the breathalyzer, shall we? (Offstage). Just put this into your mouth and breathe into it like you’re kissing a goldfish. That’s it. Yep. Thought so.

Son, you’re so far over the limit, it’s a good thing you didn’t get that car started, or you’d be looking at a DUI as well. Let’s just go downtown and say hello to your good buddies in the fish tank, shall we? Watch your head there. That’s it. Oh, and here’s your postettes back. You can write a great American novel about your experiences. See if one of your buddies will loan you a pencil. Yeah, the boys in the tank will be real interested in you tonight. (Sound of a car door slamming and the car departing. A long silence, then the escalating sound of distant city traffic. The sound of a big city bus approaching and grinding up a hill. As it goes by, it sets off the car alarm again.)

CAR ALARM: HonkHonkHonkHonk. ReeeeeaaarrrrrReeeeaaaarrrrReeeeeaaaarrr.(The sketchy suggestion of an irate man running out. He shoots the car. The sound of a gun report. Lights dim.) BweepBweepBweeuh-uh-uh.

MAN: (Offstage) Sonofabitch car alarms! Always wanted to do that. Shoot the sucker! (Wild cheering and jeers from the neighbors.)


END



MFA Playwriting  Brighde Mullins
Feb. 6, 2002