Playhouse of the Damned

By Richard Nathan

Playhouse of the Damned is an anthology of short horror plays, hosted by Gus the Ghoul. As Gus says, Welcome to the Playhouse of the Damned. This is the playhouse. Guess what part you play. Heres a hint. In just a few minutes, youll find yourself agreeing with hundreds of theatergoers who have attended our playhouse and said, I'll be damned if I'm going to sit through any more of this!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 26, 2008
• ISBN: 9781465321688

Richard Nathan

Richard Nathan is a Director and Principal of Bosquet Capital and Co-Founder and Director of Red Circle Authors Limited. Prior to this he worked for Kyodo News, the international journal of science Nature and the international publisher Macmillan.

Book preview

My Brother’s Keeper

All the stage lights are out except for a spotlight on our host, GUS THE GHOUL. Gus introduces this story, which takes place in the living room of a small apartment that is shared by two brothers, JOHN and STEVE NOLAN. It is inexpensively furnished, but nicely maintained. The only essential pieces of furniture are two chairs.

GUS: Do you ever worry about losing your sanity? If so, please check the lost and found in our lobby. If you can’t find your sanity there, you can probably find mine! And if you’ve never worried about losing your sanity, don’t be concerned. Our show is just getting started! This next schizoid skit is called My Brother’s Keeper. Imagine that you are in the home of John and Steve Nolan. You don’t see this stage. You see their small, modestly furnished apartment. Can you see their apartment? You can? Really? Then you’re hallucinating! You’ve already gone stark, raving mad!

Gus exits. The spotlight goes out, and during the blackout, John and Steve enter. They sit in their chairs. As the lights come up, Steve is trying to read a newspaper, but John, who is insane, keeps interrupting his brother.

JOHN: I had trouble sleeping last night, with all the rabbits screaming. I think they must have been frightened by the demons. Did you see the demons last night?

STEVE: I didn’t even hear the rabbits.

JOHN: You are lucky. I thought they would drive me crazy. Perhaps you will see the demons today.

STEVE: No, John, seeing demons is your specialty.

JOHN: The air will be filled with screaming demons this afternoon.

STEVE: The paper predicts rain.

JOHN: They will be inside. I will let them in.

STEVE: How kind of you.

JOHN: The demons like me.

STEVE: Why doesn’t that surprise me?

JOHN: They do not like you. I like you. You are my brother. But I must let the demons in, even if they do not like you. The moon has insisted upon it.

Steve can’t take it anymore. He snaps his paper down and glares at his brother.

STEVE: John, I’m trying to read the paper!

JOHN: Does it say what time the world will end?

STEVE: I’m reading the classifieds, trying to find a decent job so I can get us out of this dump!

JOHN: I thought we had to stay here forever. That is what the demons told me.

STEVE: No wonder you call them demons.

JOHN: Anyway, I like it here. Did you know there is a man on the first floor that also sees the demons? I think you will see them soon.

STEVE: Knock it off, John! There are no demons!

JOHN: Dad said there are.

STEVE: Oh right. Dad! Dear old Dad. The man who kept telling me there were bugs pouring out of my ears. I was only eleven years old, and he scared me spitless!

JOHN: He could not help it. It was his turn.

STEVE: People do not take turns going crazy.

JOHN: Dad said they did.

STEVE: Dad was a loon. You are a loon. I am not a loon!

Steve settles down and resumes reading his newspaper.

JOHN: Not yet.

Steve throws down the paper.

STEVE: If you don’t stop talking like that, I’m going to call Dr. Thompson and have her take you back to the hospital!

JOHN: If you stare too long at Dr. Thompson, she turns to blood.

STEVE: John, I don’t want to send you back there, but I hate it when you talk like this. What happened to you? You used to be so normal.

JOHN: I know. That was before my turn.

STEVE: There are no turns! I don’t care what Dad said!

JOHN: How do you know?

STEVE: Because I am rational! And I will stay that way because I will never let myself get like you or Dad. I will not give in to insanity, not to the bugs in my ears, or the demons or the screaming rabbits!

JOHN: Can you do that?

STEVE: Almost everyone does it! Every day.

JOHN: I do not like being crazy. I do not like my turn.

STEVE: Then your turn is over! Okay? I declare that your turn is over!

Steve snaps his fingers. Joy and relief shine on John’s face.

JOHN: It is? It’s about time! I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this!

STEVE: What did you just say? You just said a whole bunch of contractions.

JOHN: So?

STEVE: You never use contractions!

JOHN: I do too!

STEVE: You do not! Dad never used them either!

JOHN: Sure he did!

STEVE: No! Not at the end! The whole last year of his life, when he had to be straitjacketed, he never once used a contraction!

JOHN: I hadn’t noticed.

STEVE: He used to scare me so much I’d go to my room and say every contraction I could think of!

JOHN: Just because you can say contractions doesn’t mean you’re sane.

STEVE: I know! I know! But why is it you can say them all of a sudden?

JOHN: I guess it’s because my turn is over. I’m sane now.

STEVE: I have bad news for you, little brother. If you still believe in turns, that means you are still a lunatic.

JOHN: No, that means you’re a lunatic. After all, if my turn is over, and you said it was, then it must be your turn now.

STEVE: There are no turns!

JOHN: Then why did you say my turn was over? That’s a pretty crazy thing to say if there are no turns!

STEVE: I was humoring you!

JOHN: I don’t need to be humored! I’ve been perfectly calm all day. You’re the one who keeps getting excited.

STEVE: Why am I trying to talk rationally to you?

JOHN: Beats me. It’s not your turn to be rational.

STEVE: Do you want us both to be crazy and helpless?

JOHN: I’m not crazy.

STEVE: Yes you are! Because you still believe in turns!

JOHN: You know something? You’re absolutely right. I don’t believe in turns anymore.

STEVE: Good.

JOHN: Now it’s your turn to believe in turns!

STEVE: I do not! I will never believe in turns! And you do, or why would you tell me to take my turn believing in turns!

JOHN: What are you raving about now?

STEVE: You told me to take my turn believing in turns!

JOHN: I don’t want you to believe in turns! I want you to be rational.

STEVE: I am rational!

JOHN: I’m very happy to hear that, Steve. And I think Dr. Thompson will be happy to hear it too.

STEVE: Dr. Thompson is going to put you away.

Steve picks up his paper and tries to read it.

JOHN: May I please have a section of the paper?

Steve hands John a section of the paper, and they both read in silence for a moment, until Steve throws down his section and screams at his brother.

STEVE: You have always hated me for staying sane!

JOHN: I don’t hate you.

Steve erupts, letting out all the pain and anger he has kept bottled up inside.

STEVE: Well I hate you! I hate all the years I lost looking after you! I hate all the years of living with your demons!

JOHN: Please, Steven, I am trying to read the newspaper.

STEVE: Do you want me to see demons? All right! I see them! There they are! Fluttering and swooping through the air on their pink and green leather wings! Look at them, stabbing at my eyes with their claws.

There’s a knock at the door. John goes to answer it.

STEVE: Wait!

JOHN: Why? There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Steve can’t answer. He runs to the door and stands in front of it. John calmly pushes him aside and opens the door. DR. THOMPSON, a psychiatrist, enters. Steve goes back to his chair.

JOHN: Dr. Thompson! How nice to see you!

DR. THOMPSON: Good evening, John. How are you feeling today?

JOHN: Quite well, thank you. But I’m afraid Steven isn’t any better.

Dr. Thompson goes to examine Steve, who is cowering in his chair.

DR. THOMPSON: Oh? I thought he was doing very well last week.

JOHN: It’s time we faced the truth, Doctor. Steven has been insane for years, and he’s never going to get any better.

DR. THOMPSON: I see. It’s his turn now.

JOHN: There are no turns, Doctor.

DR. THOMPSON: There don’t have to be, but that doesn’t seem to stop you two from taking them!

JOHN: I don’t know what you’re talking about! Are you going to take him back to the hospital?

STEVE: No! No! I will not go there again!

DR. THOMPSON: You don’t have to. You can both stay here in the halfway house. That’s what it’s here for.

JOHN: Maybe Steven can stay, but I’m going to find a job and get out of here!

Dr. Thompson moves closer to Steve and takes his hand.

STEVE: Please help me, Dr. Thompson. I do not want to see the demons.

DR. THOMPSON: You don’t have to, Steven. Not if you don’t want to.

STEVE: I cannot help it. It is just my turn.

DR. THOMPSON: No, Steven! It is not your turn! Listen to me! It is not your turn!

STEVE: It isn’t? Then it must be yours!

Dr. Thompson’s eyes widen. Has she just heard a screaming rabbit?

BLACKOUT!

Steve, John, and Dr. Thompson exit in the darkness, and GUS THE GHOUL comes back on. A spotlight picks up Gus.

GUS: Get it? Steve and John have been sharing a psychosis for years. You might call it a bi-psychosis. You might even call it a bi-psychosis built for two!

Trick or Treat

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 front parlor of Miss Hamilton’s house. It is Halloween night. An empty candy dish rests on a little table by the door.

GUS: Our next story takes place in the house of Miss Hamilton on Halloween night. Last Halloween, I went trick-or-treating . . . down at the mortuary, but they wouldn’t give me a single bite to eat. So I soaped all their windows. They didn’t like that. Morticians have no sense of humor. Everything about morticians is so formal. Formal dress, formal manners, fomal-dehyde. Now I’m going to hide, while you stay here and watch Trick or Treat.

Gus exits. The spotlight goes out, and during the blackout, MISS HAMILTON enters and goes to the front door of her house. She is dressed in a traditional witch’s costume, to celebrate Halloween. As the lights come up, she is calling out the open door, speaking to someone who has just left her house.

MISS HAMILTON: Good night, dear. Happy Halloween!

VOICE (off-stage): Thank you, Miss Hamilton.

Miss Hamilton closes the door and looks at the empty candy dish.

MISS HAMILTON: Dear me. I must remember to buy more candy next year. I’ve never run out so early before. I hope I don’t get any more children tonight.

There’s a loud, insistent knocking at the front door, and we hear the voice of a LITTLE GIRL.

LITTLE GIRL: (off-stage): Trick or treat!

MISS HAMILTON: Maybe if I don’t answer the door, she’ll think no one’s home.

LITTLE GIRL: (off-stage): Hey! I said, Trick or treat! Come on, I know you’re in there! I can see the lights on!

Miss Hamilton sighs and opens the door. The Little Girl, wearing a witch’s costume and holding a big bag of candy, stands in the doorway.

LITTLE GIRL: Trick or treat!

MISS HAMILTON: I’m very sorry, little girl, but I don’t have any more candy. I’ve given it all away.

LITTLE GIRL: You’re in big trouble, lady. You’re supposed to have enough candy for everybody!

MISS HAMILTON: Why don’t you come back tomorrow night? I promise I’ll have more candy then.

LITTLE GIRL: I want candy now!

MISS HAMILTON: How would you like a nice shiny quarter?

LITTLE GIRL: