PLAYHOUSE OF THE DAMNED

"Blackout!"

                                    by Richard Nathan 

The spotlight is up on our host, GUS THE GHOUL, while the set for the next story is prepared.  This story takes place in the living room of the home of Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler.

                                                            GUS THE GHOUL
                                    Are you afraid of dark?  Are you afraid of the
                                    darkness in your soul?  Or are you afraid of the
                                    darkness in the soul of that homicidal maniac
                                    sitting next to you?  Our next story is called
                                    "Blackout!"

Gus exits.  The spotlight goes out, and during the blackout MRS. WHEELER enters and sits in a chair.  As the lights come up, she appears to be watching television (with the television being unseen - it would be out where the audience is).  Her husband, MR. WHEELER enters.

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    So, what's on television tonight?

BLACKOUT!  ALL THE LIGHTS GO OUT!  The lights stay out for the rest of the piece until the very end.

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    What the hell?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Did you forget to pay the electric bill?

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    No!  Why do you always assume everything is
                                    always my fault?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Because it usually is!  Get the flashlight!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    Where is it?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    I always keep it in the tool drawer.  In the kitchen.

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    Which one is the tool drawer?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    The one where we keep the tools!  Where we've kept
                                    the tools for the past seven years!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    Oh.

He stumbles around in the dark.  We hear SOUNDS OF A DRAWER BEING OPENED AND THINGS IN THE DRAWER BEING MOVED AROUND. 

                                                            MRS.  WHEELER
                                    Well?  Did you find it?

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    Yeah.  I found one.  But it's not working.

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Is it broken, or are the batteries dead?

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    How should I know?  Hey, it's not just us.  I can
                                    see out the window, and there aren't any lights on
                                    anywhere.  Oh.  Now that's creepy.  I don't even
                                    see any stars.

                                                            MRS.  WHEELER
                                    Try your cell phone.

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    That's not working either!  What the hell is going on
                                    here?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Light a candle!  There's one on the table.

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    Where are the matches?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Out here!  In the end table!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    So why don't you get up and light one?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Cause you're already up!  If I get up, we'll
                                    probably just bump into each other.  Besides,
                                    you're the man. 

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    So?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    It's your job to protect your wife.

We hear THE SOUND OF MR. WHEELER WALKING INTO SOMETHING.

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    Owww!!!

We hear the sound of MRS. WHEELER SCREAMING!

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    EEEEEEE!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    What?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Something touched me!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    What?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    I don't know!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    What did it feel like?

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    I don't know!  It was too fast to tell!  Light a
                                    match!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    I will when I find them!  It's probably nothing!

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    I felt something!  On my arm!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    We're in our house!  There's no one here but you
                                    and me!

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Will you find the damn matches!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    There's nothing to be afraid of!

                                                            MRS. WHEELER
                                    Find the matches!!!!!

                                                            MR. WHEELER
                                    Okay!  Okay I found them.  I'm going to show you, there
                                    is absolutely nothing to be afraid of.

Mr. Wheeler lights a match.  The stage is filled with MONSTERS!  The match is only lit for an instant, then it goes out.  BLACKOUT!

In the darkness everyone exits. GUS THE GHOUL comes back on, and a spotlight picks him up. G

                                                        GUS THE GHOUL
                                    As we say here at the Playhouse of the Damned,
                                    "It's always darkest!"  That's all.  That's what we say. 
                                    It's always darkest.

 

THE END

 

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2005 by Richard Nathan.  All rights reserved

The author grants all internet uses to print these scripts for their own, personal, non-commercial use.  No other use may be made without the author's permission.  Without limiting the foregoing, the plays may not be staged without the author's express  permission.

Send e-mail to the author at Richard-Nathan@att.net.