SKITS
by
Judson Blake

BRAIN

RALPH THE ANNOUNCER: You’ve all heard the astonishing statistic that we only use ten percent of our brains. But how, really, do they know this? Well, we talked with Dr. Kerman Kerman of the West New York Center for Neurological Studies.
(enter Kerman, glasses, white smock)
Dr. Kerman, you mean I really don’t use 90% of my brain?

KERMAN: That’s right, Ralph. We’re very excited about our confirmation of this discovery.

R: But, tell me, Dr. Kerman, how do you know, really, that only 10% of the brain is actually used?

K: It’s really quite simple, Ralph. We here at West New York Center for Neurological Studies pride ourselves on our unique approach.
(K walks over to Clementine, leaning over Harriet, who is seated in a chair. On Harriet’s head is a pizza box with a hole cut to fit over her skull. Various bits of fluff and trinkets are hidden in the box. There is a surgical tool tray alongside.)
Here you see our research team working over Harriet, a normal mother of four, who has volunteered to help us with our studies. I can explain in detail. But it’s better if you see the actual procedure being done. Here. We’ve cut open this woman’s skull so as to expose her brain. See that? (holds up a bowl with hair) Hey, where’s the scalpel?

CLEMENTINE: Here’s the scalpel, Dr. Kerman.

K: Oh, great. Now. (waves hand in front of Harriet) Now, Harriet, can you see my hand?

HARRIET: No problem.

K: Good. Can you think?

H: No problem.

K: Okay. (works on brain) Now I’m going to excise a small portion of unneeded grey tissue… Ooookay. (throws piece of brain on the floor.) (to Harriet) Can you think now?

H: Yeah.

K: Good. (excises more tissue)

C: I wanna help.

K: (throws tissue on the floor) Not now. I’m in the middle of something. (to Harriet) Can you think now?

H: Sure.

K: Good. ( cuts more, throws it on the floor ) Can you think now?

H: Yehyeh. Get on with it.

C: I don’t think you’re doing it right.

K: (cuts more, throws it on the floor) Can you think now?

H: Of course. Eee equals em cee square. Whaddaya think I’m stupid?

C: I duno, Doctor. You may be affecting her mind.

K: Nonsense. (Cuts, throws more tissue on the floor) Can you think now?

H: I can dance and pick up guys and translate the Bhagavad Gita all at the same time. Wooo.

K: Good. (cuts out more tissue, throws it at Clementine)

C: Hey, no fair.

K: Can you think now?

H: Suuuuure.

C: (picks up brains off the floor, throws it at Kerman.) You don’t kid around with me, Dr. Kerman.

K: Hey, cut it out. (cuts more tissue) Can you think now?

H: I think you two should learn to get along.

K: Okay, you can give advice. But can you think? (pause) Can you think? Why doesn’t she say something?

C: Hmm. I duno. She seems to have clammed up.

K: Well, that means we’ve reached the threshhold.

C: Way to go, Doctor. Whattaya say? You cut out 90%?

K: Well, I think so. Of course further research will be necessary.

C: (twirls in a pirouette) Fine with me.

HINKLEY

RALPH THE ANNOUNCER: John Hinkley, who tried to assassinate President Reagan because of his love for Jodie Foster, has again been allowed out of prison to visit his parents. Since Hinkley’s family is severely dysfunctional, they can’t remember from one visit to the next what was said. So we’ve recorded it live. Let’s go to the video.

DAD: Well, son, why’d you do it?

HINKLEY: I had to, Dad. It was love, like you love Mom.

D: Actually I beat your mother.

H: Really?

D: I’d tie her to the bed and let her rip. You watched, but you were too young to remember.

H: Well, I had issues with Mom, too. I never felt she suffered quite as much as she deserved.

D: I had to have revenge, Son. I hope it didn’t influence you.

H: Au contraire, Dad. It only deepened my understanding of passion. After growing up with you and Mom, I knew I’d do anything for love. That’s why I shot Reagan, so Jodie would understand the depth of my devotion to her.

D: Hell, Son, she didn’t even know you existed.

H: Well, she does now, Dad. C’mon.

D: Yeah, well, don’t get a big head. You didn’t DO anything. You missed and the guy lived.

H: But Dad, isn’t that the meaning of everything? I missed, but that meant that I tested the word of God.

D: And his pole ratings soared. I mean Reagan’s, not God’s.

H: You meant God.

D: Don’t get smart, Son. It’s not like you altered history.

H: Oh, you’re right, Dad. I’m always exaggerating my own importance.

D: I’ll say.

H: But if I had killed Reagan, Jodie might’ve paid more attention. Cheap indifference could’ve blossomed into love.

D: She still doesn’t have a man in her life.

H: You mean I still have a chance with her? Wait till I tell the guys.

D: Shooting Reagan certainly has helped my reputation. Comes in handy on poker night. And at church.

H: You mean you pray to God and now, because of me, He recognizes you?

D: Yeah, people ask me to put in a good word.

H: That’s nice.

D: They realize I have a special connection to Reagan.

H: You mean God. Reagan doesn’t know you exist.

EXISTENTIAL ANGST

He is loudly chopping a tree.
She is sitting opposite.

She: Here I sit listening to the cherry trees get chopped down. The past is being destroyed; the future is a dream-world where I’ll live as long as my money holds out. But now I’ll have to go to Moscow and live in some flat with no yard. Don’t you know how this inspires in me….

He and She: Existential Angst!

He: But Nina, you loved me once, you mean now you’re throwing me over for a bunch of trees?

S: I’m changeable. The trees aren’t mine any more. You’ve asked me to marry you a dozen times, each time I encouraged you and then changed my mind. But still, there are too many people in this play as it is. That’s why I’m throwing you over.

H: I’m not putting up with this, I deserve better. ( runs in a circle, then stops in a fencing pose facing her ) I’m Hotspur, in line for the throne of England and Existential Angst hasn’t been invented yet.

S: (jumps up, waves her rapier) But I’m Prince Hal, and this is your last scene, Hotspur.

H: You mean…?

S: Yes, you’re going to get it before this play is even half over.

H: But I’m only 18.

S: (fencing) That’s Shakespeare, kid. After this you’ll be lucky if they let you be a messenger.

H: (staring into space) Oh, I like dying, but I feel caught between Heaven and Hell, which is where I’m going soon. That must be what Existential Angst will be when it’s invented, three hundred years from now. Now I see…

S: (stabs him in the gut. He falls) I’m finishing you off since you’re standing there thinking about it. Now to Hell with you. Don’t you have some activity?

H: ( raises himself ) If only I could be certain…. (falls)

S: ( drops sword, walks across. Washing dishes with her back to him) Oh, that’s all right, Biff, I’ll do the dishes, you’ll be revived many years later, with your shirt off, out on the plain, not putting up with hot subway cars in the summer time. In fact, I can’t figure out why you’re in New York.

H: To experience Dad’s Existential Angst first hand. What’s it like, Ma?

S: Nothing to it. He sells things people don’t need. Wouldn’t that give you Existential Angst?

H: I suppose so. I mean I suppose that would be my emotion. If I could only understand my motivation for being in New York.

S: Don’t have to. Your father’ll be dead by the end of the play and you can go back to Kansas or one of those Western states. Leave Existential Angst behind. Forget about it.

H: Okay.

S: You know I always liked you in that scene you do with Biff, Biff.

H: I’m Biff. I do the scene with Happy. And it’s been done a thousand times.

S: At least. But it gets better every time, son.

H: Somehow Ma, I can’t help thinking of someone you remind me of – I mean, if I prepare properly…

H & S(both run in circles and come cheek to cheek then look out and yell) : Miss Julie! (both run in opposite circles and stop facing each other)

H: What I can’t understand I why you’re going offstage and killing yourself, just because you feel put out.

S: Don’t be silly, August. It’s not that.

H: Then it can only be … Oh, No!

S: Yes!

H: It’s because you’re a lesbian and you’re put out against me because I’m a man.

S: No, I’m put out with you because you hate women, August.

H: Hatred is a sign of deep feeling. I have deep feeling for women. I can feel myself going deeper and deeper into my convoluted psyche, deeper and deeper, and that takes me to…to?

S: Isn’t it obvious?

H: You mean…

S: Yes!

H & S( both come cheek to cheek then look out and yell ) : Hedda!

S: ( both run in a circle and come to a stop opposite. She stands back ) Yes, Lovborg, I feel that old Germanic feminist, man-eating Brunhilde stuff just boiling up inside of me. I didn’t ask for this.

H: You can’t back out now, I’d die without you, I’m so weak- willed.

S: Lovborg, I’ve been thinking. Get to work on your novel.

H: ( shouts, fist to the sky ) YES! ( dives for the floor and starts scribbling. She strides above him. )

S: ( strides opposite and extends her foot ) Lovborg, you’re not treating me like a general’s daughter. Crawl over here and kiss my foot.

H: ( shouts, fist to the sky )
YES! (crawls franticly over and, panting, lovingly kisses her foot)

S: That’s better. But I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough, Lovborg. (withdraws her foot and strides away) I’ve been thinking. I want you to commit suicide.

H: (shouts, fist to the sky) YES! ( cocks a gun and puts it in his mouth, fires, falls)

S: Now I’ve killed you, I’ve been thinking. I think I’ll kill myself. Because this is a really bad case of…

H & S: (he sits up) Existential Angst! ( they fall across each other )

SOAP

TROY is standing looking dejected. HEATHER enters urgently.

HEATHER: Oh, Troy, you didn’t kill those women, did you?

TROY: Well, Heather, this is hard to tell you now, but, yes. I had to.

H: You mean before you did….

T: Yes, I had to before I could do the f-act with them — because… they resisted and I hate that. I need docile women. I need a woman who gives in totally.

H: Well, I’ll bet they did that.

T: Um,…uh, Heather, is that a blemish on your cheek?

H: Oh. Where?

T: Right there. Anyone can see it.

H: Don’t say it. Does it show?

T: You look like you’ve been doing dishes.

H: I’m so humbled. But about the women, Troy. Did they suffer much?

T: Hmmm. One did. She struggled too much.

H: Oh, Troy, you must feel terrible.

T: I do, Heather. But I’ll take what I deserve. But that… blemish you’ve got…

H: I’ll use mineral oil.

T: Canola oil would be better.

H: Alcohol and blush. Blush will help, won’t it?

T: Maybe, one of the women I killed had the same sort of thing. I can’t get it out of my mind. Everywhere I look I see… blush.

H: Oh, Troy, I’m always thinking about my foxy goddess good looks and nothing else. You might go to jail for the rest of your life. Or you could get (points to ass) you know, and get a disease.

T: You have to look out for yourself, Heather.

H: Right. I’ll talk to my cosmetic consultant. Oh, Troy, Troy, don’t you hear the flute music?

T: Yes, Heather. That means your passion for me has grown unbearable and we should be doing the f-act.

H: Well, okay by me. –But Troy, can I trust you after what you’ve done?

T: You know you can. I’ll be gentle. Those other women meant nothing to me.

H: I can imagine. Um,… you think you can do it? You must be pretty depressed.

T: Yeah,…

H: I can help, Troy. I know Kama Sutra.

T: Gosh, Heather, where’d you learn that?

H: Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything. But I have to trust that you’ll understand. It’s hard to tell you, but,…(sniffle, trembling lip) I’ve been seeing Brad.

T: Gosh, Heather, this is a total shock.

H: But you will do the f-act with me, even if it’s just for this one last time?

T: Awww…. I don’t know, Heather. (pause) Are you bleeding?

H: Oh, Troy, don’t you hear the flute music?

T: You’re bleeding.

H: Troy, don’t hate me. I know I did the f-act with Brad — but I was thinking of you.

T: You can’t tell us apart. We’re both dropdead gorgeous.

H: Please, Troy, don’t reject me. I’m not an evil woman.

T: I don’t know…. You’re bleeding. And you’ve got that… blemish.

H: But we may not see each other for such a long time. Maybe forever.

T: Heather, I won’t be part of your cheap fantasies.

H: Oh, Brad….

T: I’m Troy.

H: (sobs) Well, if you’d grow a beard, I could tell you apart.