DRAKE
DISAPPEARS
by
Matthew S. Hinton
DRAKE,
a young boy – not 13 – can be played by an adult
MARLA,
his older sister
JUSTIN
THYME, private eye, somewhat out of shape
(A
rise, MARLA is counting down loudly offstage starting at “thirty-one thousand”
as DRAKE enters, gleefully looking for a hiding place. He tries all
possibilities, but nothing satisfies him. Time is running out. Then, it hits
him. He goes to fridge, opens it, removes some contents (milk, etc.) and puts
them on the counter. As “zero” approaches, DRAKE enters the fridges; the lights
dim until the pure, blinding, cold fridge light is all that is seen. The door
closes, the microwave beeps back to life as the lights return to normal.)
Zero!
READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!
(Enter
MARLA, in search mode.)
MARLA
Drake!
Draaaaaaaaaaake … I know you’re in here Drake … you’re too predictable. You
don’t hide very well. It’s not hiding when you keep picking the same room. I
heard you come in here. Are you in the garbage can again? No? Getting too big,
eh? How about the table? Can’t fit balled up under there anymore. How about the
cabinets?! HA! No … Just soda, bleach. Should we be storing those next to each
other, mom? Don’t sass me, Marla! Sorr-ee! Yeesh. Okay, Drake. You’re not
allowed to move, y’know! You’re SUPPOSED to stay put! That’s how I do it! I
play fair! And how many times have I told you about the …
(Finally,
her eyes fall on the fridge)
…
2 percent … (Cheshire grin) Okay, boy – only ONE place you can be. Same old
spot.I gotcha now, boy. Got - !
(She
opens the door. Nothing. MARLA looks a bit confused.)
…
you.
(She
paces, stares at the fridge thoughtfully, retraces her steps, opens it again –
nothing. She studies the unit from several angles. She hides behind the table,
chairs, etc., and rushes the fridge, finding nothing each time. The last time,
she jerks the door open wildly, casually closes it most of the way, and flings
it wide with a sudden:)
A-HA!
(She
closes the door, confused)
Drake?
Drake?!
(She
checks the microwave for the time. MARLA is worried. She picks up the phone,
dials.)
Hullo?
Police. I … I wanna report a missing person … it’s my little brother, Drake,
he’s just – gone. I dunno he was here a minute ago, but he vanished … 24
hours?! It can’t wait that long! He never just vanishes! Who just vanishes like
that?! This IS serious, why wouldn’t I be serious? Okay. Okay. I’m calm. I’m
calming down. I’m calm. It was like this: We were playing hide-and-seek and I
came into the kitchen where he always hides and – Hullo? HULLO?! What the
crap?! They hung up on me! DO YOU HEAR THAT DRAKE?! THEY HUNG UP! I HOPE YOU’RE
HAPPY! MOM’S GONNA KILL YOU WHEN SHE GETS BACK AND CAN’T FIND YOU! … I’LL TELL
HER YOU LEFT THE TWO PERCENT OUT!
(No
response.)
DRAKE!
C’MON! NO MORE FOOLIN AROUND! I’M CALLING THE POLICE AGAIN!
(She
dials again.)
Hullo?!
Yes, I was just hung up on while trying to report a missing person! It’s my
brother, Drake – we were playing hide-and-seek and … YES! YES I CHECKED THE
REST OF THE HOUSE! … FINE!
(She
exits, offstage, to the rest of the house, leaving the phone on the counter and
returns briskly, picks up the phone)
NOPE!
NOWHERE! Now listen, he usually hides in the fridge, he took everything out
this time and … HULLO?! HULLO?!! Are you SERIOUS?!
(She
hangs up the phone, checks the fridge again on a whim, finds it empty, slams it
shut)
DAMMIT
DRAKE!
(She
checks the microwave again, gets out the phone book, flips through the pages,
stops, scans)
Private
… private … private … Perfect!
(Mumbling
as she dials) Disappears … Drake just disappears … little shii- Hello, yes, I
need some help and I don’t know who else to turn to. Yes. Yes, it’s urgent. My
little brother’s missing – I’m at –
(She
has been hung up on again; she is fuming)
DRRRRAKE!
You are dead, mister!
(Enter
JUSTIN THYME from the outside. MARLA frantically grabs at items from a drawer,
maybe comes up with a baster and some wacky kitchen gadget, ready to defend
herself and home.)
MARLA
Okay,
buddy! I don’t know who you are, but we are NOT buying any today, okay?! So
take your girl scout cookies or your boy scout popcorn and beat cheeks! I’ve
got a serious situation here!
JUSTIN
TIME
Looks
like I’m just in time. I came as soon as I heard.
MARLA
Hunh?
JT
I’m
here to shake the tree.
MARLA
Yeah?
Well, my dad’s an atheist! So you and whatever god you’re pawning today can
pound sand! You got that?! I’ll know how to use this! And … and this thing too!
JT
Easy
kid, easy. You called me. You don’t remember?
MARLA
You
don’t look like police.
JT
You
don’t look like an atheist.
MARLA
Lemme
see a badge or something.
JT
Or
what? You going baste me? Thing’s not even loaded, and the safety’s on on your
gizmo, gizmo.
MARLA
You
don’t talk like a cop.
JT
Thank
god for that.
MARLA
You
talk like an idiot.
JT
Don’t
let the talk fool you. In real life, I’m very, very dumb.
MARLA
Who
… who are –
JT
Name’s
Justin Thyme, kid. You called me – remember?
MARLA
(looks
down at the phonebook, slowly relaxes)
Oh.
But you hung up. How did you - ?
JT
I’m
a shamus. A private eye.
MARLA
But
you got here so fast.
JT
Time
is relative, kid – just another way to measure space. That’s my motto; my
copyright. It’s on all the adspace, printed on all the business cards. Even my
menu.
MARLA
Menu?
JT
Let
your fingers do the walking. Flip to the restaurants.
(She
does, then reads from it aloud)
MARLA
“Death
by chocolate? Murder after dinner? Expiration date fraud?” What is this?
JT
A
menu; my list of services. I’m a kitchen sleuth – a skim tracer, if you will. A
countertop operative. By the way, ignore the coupons kid, they printed those
without my say-so.
MARLA
You
shouldn’t hang up on people and then just appear in their house unannounced.
JT
You
shouldn’t go around threatening people with used turkey plastic and a salad
shooter. I never did like to eat my greens, but there are better ways to
convince me than a cucumber roscoe.
MARLA
Justin
Time?
JT
Yes.
MARLA
That’s
dumb.
JT
Okay.
You’re a smart kid. Turn a better moniker.
MARLA
How
about Justin Theshortterm?
JT
Too
long.
MARLA
Justin
CASE! That’s a good one and you know it.
JT
It
does fit the clothes, doesn’t it?
MARLA
Yeah
– now if only your clothes fit you.
JT
Cute,
but mean. Business has been slow. No. Justin Thyme is the name -
MARLA
Justin
Bieber!
JT
Too
topical.
MARLA
But
it’d get your business.
JT
-Justin
Thyme is the name – kitchen crimes are my game.
MARLA
That
explains the clothes. And how you got here so quickly.
JT
And
here I went assuming you were smart. It’s a homonym. With an “H” and a “Y”. As
in parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme?
MARLA
…
Am I supposed to get that, or something?
JT
Do
you want my help?
MARLA
Yes,
yes. Sorry. Jeez.
JT
Have’a
seat, miss … (MARLA sits as JT starts examining the kitchen) What’s your name?
MARLA
Marla.
JT
Marla
– (Takes out a cigarette) Boro?
MARLA
Just
Marla. Some detective.
JT
Cigarette?
MARLA
Yes,
I know.
JT
(Puts
cigarette away) Why don’t you tell me what happened, Marla? Your little brother
went missing?
MARLA
Yes.
Drake’s disappeared. The police don’t believe me. They laughed, told me to wait
24 hours, laughed some more, and then hung up on me.
JT
Standard
operating procedure.
MARLA
For
all I know he’s in San Francisco. Or, or, I don’t know where. The West Indies,
for all I know. Brazil! Exploring the Pacific Ocean! Or he’s lost somewhere. My
mother’ll kill me if he’s not here when she gets home from work.
JT
Calm
down. How long’s he been gone, Marla?
MARLA
I
dunno. (checking microwave) Five – maybe ten minutes tops. AW! He’s gone isn’t
he? Y’know, I can just ‘feel’ it. I know it sounds dumb. I know he’s … (she
begins to weep)
JT
Listen
Miss Marla, you called me. You called me and asked me to come over right away.
All I had to do back at my desk was dangle my shoe and buy myself short drinks
from the office bottle. But then you call in a panic over the line, sounds
genuine enough, and you’ll certainly pay for me to care. But right now I care
to know if it’s worth listening to. You called me. I came. I’m here. Now, kid,
if you would please – he didn’t leave you?
MARLA
No!
JT
I
can’t imagine why. (She returns to crying) I don’t mean anything by it Marla.
You know something? Two percent of people lie – they lie all the time – in
political polls, about their spouse’s cooking, what toilet paper they prefer –
TWO percent. In normal conversation. No real reason, nothing to gain or lose or
–
MARLA
He
was right here! Right here in the kitchen, I swear. We were just playing
hide-and-seek.
JT
Good.
We’re getting somewhere. Now. Marla. Walk me through it.
MARLA
(Sniffling,
collecting herself) Hunh?
JT
Walk
me through it. Tell me everything that happened – from the top.
MARLA.
(She
stands) I was in the next room, see? Counting.
JT
Up
or down? It matters.
MARLA
Down.
From thirty.
JT
Did
you use “Mississippi” rules?
MARLA
One-Thousand!
Can I tell it?
JT
One-Thousand!
Good!
MARLA
So
I come in here
(she
begins, looking foolish, to re-enact the opening)
Drake!
Draaaaaaaaaaake … I know you’re in here Drake … you’re too predictable. You
don’t hide very well. It’s not hiding when you keep picking the same room. I
heard you come in here. Are you in the garbage can again? No? Getting too big,
eh? How about the table? Can’t fit balled up under there anymore. How about the
cabinets?!
JT
He
can’t fit there, either.
MARLA
I
know. He got stuck under there three times last month.
JT
You
really shouldn’t store soda next to the bleach.
MARLA
Thank
you! Anyway, my eyes fall on the …
JT
& MARLA
Two
percent!
JT
The
fridge!
MARLA
(opening
the door triumphantly) A-Ha! But Drake –
JT
Drake
disappears.
MARLA
DIS!
APPEARS!
JT
To
explore the Pacific, the West Indies, Brazil; to discover San Francisco, or get
lost in the fridge … Your fridge.
(He
examines the labels, the hinges, etc., picks up the 2% from the counter, and
begins drinking it.)
MARLA
What’re
you doing?
JT
Thinking.
MARLA
What’re
you thinking?
JT
Maybe
you saw it wrong.
MARLA
Look,
gumshoe, I was here.
JT
Something’s
missing. You missed something. Go back.
MARLA
We
don’t have time for this.
JT
Time
… Time …
(Starts
chugging the milk.)
MARLA
Oh,
god.
JT
Time.
You said, ‘We don’t have time for this.”
MARLA
And
I meant it.
JT
Back
to the top. You count down. Exactly as you did before.
MARLA
I
don’t understand.
JT
Your
fridge.
MARLA
What
about it?
JT
It’s
a Schrodinger.
MARLA
Okay,
you’re officially disgusting. Please leave.
JT
Listen.
You have a vintage 1935 Schrodinger icebox. The world’s first and last in cold
quantum energy. This door is a doorway. Through time. Your fridge is a
frontier.
MARLA
Through
time?
JT
Time.
MARLA
With
an “I”?
JT
A
capital “I”.
MARLA
Damn
homonyms. Okay, I’ll bite. Where does it go, Einstein?
JT
When
does it go?
MARLA
And
when does it bring Drake back?
JT
Anything
is possible with a Schrodinger icebox. I don’t know.
MARLA
Well,
something you don’t know. There’s a surprise.
JT
(Taking
off his left shoe and sock) But I’m going to find out.
MARLA
What’re
you doing?
JT
Taking
off my left shoe and sock.
MARLA
Why?
JT
Listen,
this is a ’35 Schrodinger. The microwave is a Hawking Electric. Your garbage
disposal?
MARLA
What
about it?
JT
It’s
made by Feynman Industries – it doesn’t grind food; it literally excites the
molecules so that leftovers are torn apart from the inside out.
MARLA
That
explains why we can’t get a plumber to service it.
JT
(Matter
of fact.) You have an Oppenheimer range – thing could flashfry a turkey in 10
microseconds if you set it right; a top of the line Neils Bohr coffee machine –
the only one in its field with a drip-matrix; and an Asimov water purifier –
which you’ll never have to replace the filter on because it’s literally made of
cosmic dust.
MARLA
Whoa.
JT
You
do your laundry at home?
MARLA
When
my mother can’t get to it, I do it, yeah.
JT
Then,
I’m willing to guess your dryer is a Sagan Warmhole.
MARLA
As
in –
JT
Carl
Sagan of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos. Those Warmholes are great units. They never
shrink a turtleneck.
MARLA
How
do you know all this?
JT
Your
kitchen is like a galactic centrifuge for particle theory minutiae. Maybe your
father the atheist is has a basement full of space plans that turn your kitchen
into a gateway to the stars. I’m not sure. But this stinks worse than a
three-day-old uncovered ham. I’m going through your fridge, Marla. I’m going to
follow Drake’s crossing and get him back.
MARLA
Isn’t
it dangerous?
JT
That’s
why I’m taking these off.
MARLA
Explain
that again?
JT
You
never lost a sock in the dryer?
MARLA
I
see. Well, what am I supposed to do?
JT
Count
down from thirty. “One-thousand” rules. Just like before.
MARLA
Okay.
Justin?
JT
Miss
Marla?
MARLA
Is
this all normal in your line of work? Is this – good for business?
JT
Trouble
is my business. Ready? Start counting.
(MARLA
counts down, as in the beginning, but just aside. JUSTIN THYME makes his way
into the fridge and we see the same ominous, cold light. He closes the door as
MARLA reaches ‘zero-onethousand’ – microwave dings, lights return to normal.
MARLA cautiously approaches the fridge.)
MARLA
Justin?
Justin Thyme?
(She
opens the fridge door. It is empty. She
closes the door, is alone. She resists the urge to cry, grabs the 2% and gulps
away, doe-eyed.)
Suddenly,
the kitchen door swings open, revealing DRAKE. He is grown up – noticeably
older than his sister - and dressed as 16th century explorer SIR FRANCIS DRAKE
- a burly, stout, smiling sea admiral. Draped over him, around his neck and
arms, are numerous strings of left shoes, all different styles, colors, and
sizes, none of them the same.)
DRAKE
Marla?
MARLA
Drake.
Where’ve you been?! When’ve you been?
DRAKE
I’ve
discovered San Francisco! And SHOES!
(Lights
down – one light remains on JT’s left shoe & sock before going out
completely.)
______
Copyright (c) 2013 by Matthew S. Hinton
______
Copyright (c) 2013 by Matthew S. Hinton
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