GEORGE BUSH IN HELL
John Chuckman
Opening Scene: Entrance hall in the Bush
mansion in Houston
There is grand staircase in the center, an
elaborate chandelier hanging down from the ceiling, a half-table with a vase
along the wall to the right, and a federal-style entrance door with brass
fittings and a fan-window above on the far right.
A clicking noise is heard and the door swings
open. The silhouette of George Bush is seen against dim bluish lights from the
street. He pauses a few seconds and reaches for a switch on the wall, not
finding it easily. When he does, sconces on the same wall as the table and vase
come on, casting a warm, soft light on the scene. He awkwardly turns and closes
the door quietly.
The figure starts to move forward, and it is
immediately apparent from his lurching
motion that he is drunk. He moves slowly, trying to prevent any noise or
accidents. Nevertheless, after a few steps, he collides with the table, knocking
the vase over to smash noisily on the floor.
At the top of the stairs, Laura appears in a
rather elegant, flowing nightgown. She places her hands on her hips and glares
hard towards George.
GEORGE: “Hi, Honey.
Didn’t know ya’d still be up.”
LAURA: “I wasn’t up.
You smashing the furniture woke me up.
“And don’t you ‘Honey’
me, you bastard! You’re drunk again.”
GEORGE: Moving awkwardly toward the stairs, “Aw,
Laura darlin’, I jus’ had a li’le too much,” making an exaggerated measurement sign towards Laura with his finger
and thumb as he speaks.
Laura doesn’t move, just glaring as George works
his way slowly up the stairs, huffing and puffing and swaying as he goes.
GEORGE: “See, I’m
okay, I’m getting’ up the stairs myself.”
LAURA: “You shit, you promised,
not once but dozens of times.”
GEORGE: “Yah, Honey, I
know, but I’m tryin’.”
LAURA: “You son of a
bitch, you haven’t tried at all. You’ve embarrassed everyone in the family.
GEORGE: “Won’t happen
ag’in, Hon, I promise.”
LAURA: “You’re damned right
about that. It won’t happen again!” she screams. She suddenly swings her arms out violently, striking George as he nears
her, sending him tumbling down the stairs
George’s body comes to a stop at the bottom of
the stairs, limp and broken-looking.
Suddenly from the left comes a Secret Service
agent, aroused by all the noise. He kneels at the body and checks for vital
signs.
SECRET SERVICE AGENT: Looking up towards Laura, “Mrs. Bush, I’m
sorry, the President is dead!”
He immediately reaches for his Blackberry and
places a call for emergency services. Laura walks offstage in the direction she
first came from.
SCENE TWO
We see a striking, elaborate gate, as we might
expect to see at the front of a great mansion. Behind the gate is the
suggestion of a lush, sunlit garden complete with the beautiful singing of
birds. Despite the brilliant sunlight, the floor of the stage is covered with a
thick white mist, which represents clouds scudding along. At the gate, a tall
dignified figure stands holding a staff in his right hand and a book in his
left.
From the right side, the figure of George
appears. He isn’t drunk now, but he appears mystified by his location.
GEORGE: As he approaches the gate, “Hi, I got no
idea where I am. Maybe y’all kin help?”
GEORGE: “Jeez, ya’ll
know me. That’s great. I got no idea what’s goin’ on. I was comin’ home, an’
suddenly I wake up here.
“Hey, an’ I ain’t got
no hangover neither.”
GEORGE: “Dead? How the
hell kin that be?”
ST. PETER: “You came
home drunk, and Laura was so furious she pushed you down the stairs.”
GEORGE: “I’ll be
damned, Laura killed me?”
ST. PETER: “That’s
right, Mr. President. She’s now being treated for shock, and you’re here at the
gates of Heaven. I’m St. Peter.”
GEORGE: “Well, Pete, open
‘er up. Guess there’s gonna be some good times here. I gotta tell ya, I was
gettin’ mighty tired of Laura naggin’ all the time.”
GEORGE: “Y’all know
I’m born agi’n. Don’t ‘spect no problem.
“Well, fire away, as I
used to say there in the White House. Haw, haw. Jus’ a li’le joke there, Pete. Guess
ya know I ain’t one to stand around jawin.’ Let’s get her done.”
St Peter opens his book, and a picture appears,
cast like a slide in the white mist. It is of a child whose face is torn,
horribly clotted with blood.
GEORGE: “Hell no –
oops, sorry there! No, I never seen him, Pete, honest.”
ST. PETER: “That is
correct, Mr. President, you never saw him, but nevertheless you did this to
him, and many thousands of others in the bombing of Iraq.”
GEORGE: “I’m tellin’
ya, Pete, I di’n’t know. I’d never do somethin’ like that.”
Another picture appears, this one of a woman’s
body smashed into the ground.
ST. PETER: “What about
this one, Mr. President?”
GEORGE: “Promise I
never saw nothin’ like that. God dang, who’d go ‘n’ do somethin’ like that?”
GEORGE: “Well, I gotta
say, I don’t think it’s fair bringin’ up this kinda ol’ stuff, Pete.”
Another picture appears. It’s Laura with a
black eye and a swollen lip.
GEORGE: “God darn if I
wasn’t drunk that night. Didn’t mean it at all.”
SCENE THREE
George finds himself in a
dark, gloomy place, with only hints of its being a room. He suddenly becomes
aware of a series of sounds, a mixture of singing and shouting and George
starts walking towards them. The sounds become louder. Soon we realize that
they are people talking and shouting and singing, many of them, all at once.
George tries covering his ears, the sound becomes so loud and unpleasant.
Finally, a figure appears in the gloom. It’s a
tremendously fat Jerry Falwell looking for all the world like Jabba the Hutt
waddling.
JERRY: “Well, now I
kin hardly believe my eyes, welcome home, Mr. President!”
GEORGE: “Jeez, gotta
say this place don’t look much like what I figured.”
JERRY: “Hell ain’t
such a bad place. Ya pretty much get to do what ya always liked doin’ forever.”
GEORGE: “Hell? Whoa there,
now, what’s goin’ on? I ain’t sposed to be in no Hell!
“I was jus’ talkin’ to
Pete couple a minute ago, remindin’ him how I was saved an’ all.”
JERRY: “Well, I’m
right sorry to disappoint you, Mr. President, ‘cause ya’ll was always a
favorite.
“But we all knew you
was on your way here, an’, like I was sayin’, it ain’t such a bad place an’
all.
“Ya’ll get to do
pretty much what ya always did. Ya kin sure see I’m enjoyin’ the brunches, all
laid out real nice, any time night or day, jus’ like a big cruise ship.
“An’ jus’ listen to
that singin’ ! It don’t never stop. Gospel selections for the next trillion
years!
“Some nice ol’ friends
down here too, Mr. President. I reckon ya’ll know half of ‘em. Dick an’ Lynn. Your
Pappy’s here, an’ your Grandpappy.”
GEORGE: “Ain’t ya
sufferin’ with everlastin’ fires or nothin’ like that?”
JERRY: “Shucks, no,
Mr. President. That jus’ ain’t the way it is.
“I know, I know, I was
preachin’ kind of regular ‘bout that kinda stuff, but ya gotta figure, I was
earnin’ a livin’ an’ all, an’ there jus’ ain’t no topic better ‘an damnation
for gettin’ that there offerin’ plate full to overflowin’.”
GEORGE: “Well, I’ll be
damned.”
JERRY: “Ya’ll are, Mr.
President, that’s for sure.
“They got a copy of
your ol’ office all set up for ya. Ya’ll gonna be able to go on bein’ President
for millions an’ millions of years.
With a wink and a chuckle, “Snort a little coke now an’ then. All the
damn mint juleps ya’ll can swaller. Go huntin’ with Dick.
“Give your Ol’ Man a
good right now an’ then…as many times as ya’d like. An’ if that li’l’ woman of
yours – jus’ sose ya know, she’ll be joinin’ up with ya before too long - goes mouthin’
off any, jus’ give her a smack in the gob the way ya’ll used to. Ain’t no cops
here for her to call, embarrassin’ ya an’ all.
“Ya’ll be runnin’ that
there war forever, seein’ every damned heathen an’ troublemaker blowed up jus’
like ya was there.”
GEORGE: “Well I gotta
say that don’t sound none too bad. Ever get any vacation?”
JERRY: “Well, I gotta
tell ya honest-like now, Mr. President, ya don’t get no vacation ‘roun’ here.
“Ya gonna do all them
things ya always liked doin’, but ya gotta keep doin’ ‘em over and over,
forever.”
“It might get a li’l’
tiresome-like after a while, but I sure ‘nough ain’t found that to be the case
yet.”
GEORGE: “Ya, I kin see
that right ‘nough. If ya’ll can’t stop packin’ down all the grub, ya gonna have
a mighty sorry time draggin’ that fat gut of yours aroun’.
“Ya already startin’
to look like one them damned ol’ frogs I useta stuff with firecrackers. Damned,
if I didn’t enjoy watchin’ ‘em gettin’ blowed up!
“Maybe ya’ll gonna
blow up someday without any damned firecrackers in your mouth!”
George bends over, cracked up with uncontrollable
laughter, tears running down his cheeks.
JERRY: Chuckling heartily, “Ah shucks, Mr.
President, mighty nice to hear ya ain’t lost your ol’ boyish charm an’ sense of
humor. Ya’ll gonna fit in jus’ fine here.”
George and Jerry, chuckling and laughing, walk slowly
off into the gloom towards ear-splitting sounds of laughs and screams and
screeching gospel music.
