One For The Hands
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Editor's Note: We would be greatly pleased if someone were to act out this short play, video tape it, and send us a copy. Please do that. Thank you.
Dramatis Personae:
Left Hand: The bottom-most protruding entity off the left appendage. Has no sore fingers, one hangnail. A person dressed as a giant male left hand. Not a funny hand. More intelligent, but less used. Holding a giant fork.
Right Hand: The bottom-most protruding entity off the right appendage. Has two sore fingers. A person dressed as a giant male right hand. Quicker, and has a sense of humor. More athletic, and more preferred. Holding a giant knife.
Setting: At dinner, a giant plate and giant utensils are set on the stage. A giant brown bottle is also on the "table", no label. Hands are on their according side. A red and white checkered tablecloth is strewn across the floor of the stage, falling over the front of it. The lights turn on to reveal the hands.
Left Hand: You're holding the knife wrong again. You have to hold it higher up, or you'll cut yourself.
Right Hand: I'm about to cut you in a second. You know I can't hold the knife higher. It'll hurt my sore fingers that way.
Left Hand: Well, you look stupid.
Right Hand: Will you shut-up about the knife?
Left Hand: Okay. (Picks up fork and stabs into the spaghetti. Suddenly drops the fork, and plants himself on to the floor face down as Right Hand takes the beer and tilts it toward the audience.)
Left Hand: I hate when he does that.
Right Hand: It doesn't bother me.
Left Hand: Oh, go break your fingers.
Right Hand: Pinky resents that.
Left Hand: So would I, if I were a finger that you selfishly sacrificed to be cool in front of the rest of the guys.
Right Hand: (uneasy) What are you talking about? He wanted me to catch that baseball.
Left Hand: Oh it was an impulse was it? Then why was the rest of his body, including me, ducking?
Right Hand: You're damn right it was an impulse! (Mumbles to himself) Shut up, pinky!
Left Hand: Well it wasn't as bad as when you picked up the cookies out of the stove without any gloves.
Right Hand: On average, right-handed people live nine years longer than left handed people.
Left Hand: Remember that time you stuck the safety pin in the electric socket?
Right Hand: What about when you dropped a weight on Left Foot? Big Toe in particular was pissed off at you for more than week!
Left Hand: What did you want me to do? It got heavy! Do you recall the time you basically poured scalding hot coffee into Mouth? That's why he bit you twice afterwards-it wasn't an accident!
Right Hand: (gasps) No! Not Mouth!
Left Hand: Yes! Mouth!
Right Hand: That's it! (They go to fight, and promptly begin to crack each other's knuckles)
Left Hand: (loud cracking sounds) Ouch! That hurt!
Right Hand: Shut up you! Take that!
Left Hand: Oh God! Make the insanity stop!
Right Hand: Har har!
Left Hand: (switch positions) Now it's my turn, finger whore!
Right Hand: Uh oh. (More cracking noises) (Screams of agony) MY SORE FINGER!
Left Hand: (fingers tear away from each other) Whoops, sorry about that.
Right Hand: (shakes hand as if in pain.) Jesus Christ! That hurt like a bitch! What'd you have to go and do that for?
Left Hand: Well, I said I was sorry.
Right Hand: Well, it really hurt! I think you re-broke pinky's knuckle!
Left Hand: I'm ignoring you now, you know. (Picks up the fork, stabs at the spaghetti)
Right Hand: (picks up the knife again) That was pretty low, man. Going for the knuckles like that.
Left Hand: (Picks up giant napkin, and he and Right Hand crumple it up.)
Right Hand: (Throws the crumpled napkin to the right, off stage.) That was money! Who da Hand?!
Left Hand: You da Hand! (They high five.)
Right Hand: (Chuckles) That was sweet.
Left Hand: We cool?
Right Hand: We cool.
(A giant butcher knife drops in front of two hands, cutting them off from the audience. Lights dim, and curtains close.)
END
Anthony Luckino is skilled with his hands