61Two Minute Comedy

"Give us Two Minutes... We'll Give You Too"

A Series of Two Minute Comedy Sketches for short attention span theatre


Doing My Job
A Two Minute (Drama)


CAST:
Samantha - very attractive, 30
Michael - plain, 40

An empty space.  Sam and Michael face each other.

Michael: (stunned) So, that’s it?

Samantha: Yes.

Michael: The whole while you’ve known me?

Samantha: Yes.

Michael: The first day I met you?   In Beacon Hill Park?

Samantha: I followed you there and stood behind you at the concert.

Michael: The blues band.  Charlie Musslewhite.  (pause) Do you even like the blues?

Samantha: Not particularly. 

Michael: (stares) You were convincing.

Samantha: It’s what I do Michael.  I’m sorry.

Michael: And after that.  The milk shakes and French fries?  You were so… I was…happy that day.  I thought…

Michael chokes on the thought.

Samantha: (gently) You thought?  

Silence.

Michael: (devastated) I… I fell in love with you that day.

Samantha: I know it’s not… fair.

Michael stares at her.  He struggles to digest this. 

Michael:  (finally) So.  You feel nothing for me?

Samantha: I like you.  I respect you.  I am in awe of what you do.

Michael: That’s not what I asked.

Samantha: I feel that you’re a good person.  But…

Michael: But?

Samantha: Michael don’t… Please don’t make this harder than it is.

Michael: Why?  You said this is what you do.  Isn’t bailing out on love affairs part of that?

Samantha: Michael, would you prefer I didn’t tell you and just disappear?

Michael: (angry) Hell yes!  Disappearing means I don’t have to stand here and have you tell me that the last eighteen months of my life… Eighteen months filled with happiness and joy built around a relationship with a woman who said she was in love with me - have been a charade!  A sham!  Some kind of ponzi scheme of the heart!

Samantha: I said I was sorry.  (pause) Would you like me to leave now?

Michael: (stares) I’d like you to die.  You’ve killed me.  Why should I be the only one to suffer? 

Samantha: I’ve called a taxi.  It’ll be here in five minutes and I’ll leave you alone.

Michael: Oh yeah.  You’ve called a taxi to extract you from the fire fight before it gets too fuckin ugly, is that it??  Why hang around the guy you’ve just duped into believing you have an ounce of affection for, when you can run off to your next assignment and kill another innocent soul.

Samantha: Michael, you should know that you’re not an innocent soul.  You possess knowledge that is of vital interest to your country.  That knowledge is of such importance that it needed to be appropriated.  My job was to help make that happen.

Michael: Yeah.  Nice job, Sam.  You did it fucking well.  But then a sap like me doesn’t take much work for a girl of your talents now does it?  I mean you just stand next to a guy in a park one day and the next day he’s following you around like a puppy dog.  Which would make you a bitch, probably.

Samantha: No need to get nasty, Michael.

Michael: So, let me ask you something Sam.  That afternoon I came home and you were making dinner.  You said you let yourself in?  Was that when you copied the equations?

Samantha: (pause) What do you mean?

Michael: Was that the day you downloaded the equations from my computer?  You were alone in my place for a couple hours.  What better time to… “appropriate” my work?  I gave you the password the night before so you could check the movie schedule, right?

Samantha: I’m sorry, Michael…

Michael: So you slip in a zip drive and hit copy and you’re suddenly in possession of relativistic plasma theory.

Samantha: (hesitates) Yes, Michael.  I copied the files.

Michael studies her.

Michael: (turning away) I think we’ve got enough now fellas.  Freddy, Baker… she’s all yours from here on out.

There’s crackling of security radios offstage.   Michael removes a recording device from his pocket.

Samantha: (stunned) What’s going on Michael?  Who are you talking to?

VOICE OS: Miss Samantha Kittridge, this is the Federal Marshall.  We have a warrant for your arrest.

Samantha: (staring) Michael, what is going on here?

Michael: What?  Oh… Nothing really Sam.  I’m just… doing my job.

FADE TO BLACK