The Little One Now Available as E-Book

My play, The Little One, is available for sale for mere pennies over at indietheaternow.com.

Get your copy today!

Adventures of Nervous-Boy Now Available as E-Book!

And in Further Adventures in Naked Capitalism, my play The Adventures of Nervous-Boy is available online at indietheaternow.com.



Read the script now for mere pennies!

Offering you deals left and right,

James "Concerned Capitalist" Comtois

Because It's My Blog...

...and because I'm a capitalist, and because the prior post is plugging something that's already come and gone, and because it's been a while since I've done this, I'm going to use this time to suggest that you buy a copy of my play, Infectious Opportunity, and read the living hell out of it.

Actually, what you do with it once you buy it is your business. That's your prerogative as a consumer. It's no concern of mine.

Selling you stuff you
didn't know you needed,

James "What You Need" Comtos

Shameless Script-Plugging Time

Well, gang. I've been having a great deal of fun guest blogging over at the NYIT Awards' Full of IT blog this week, and it looks as though I've got one blog entry left in me before I hand the torch over to the next guest blogger. It should be appearing tomorrow, provided I finish it in time (I'm almost done, so I really should have it ready for a Friday post).

Although I still don't see myself returning to long-form blogging on a regular basis, it's been kind of fun to return to it for a bit, even if my entries may be a tad insipid and redundant (I know, I know, what a shocker). Paradoxically, it's reminded me why I enjoyed it and why I've kinda stopped.

So, while we all wait for my final entry to be posted on the Full of IT blog, I'm gonna go ahead and do some shameless plugging for my play, Infectious Opportunity.

That's right, campers. The NYIT Award-nominated play by Yours Truly about a guy faking being HIV-positive is available for sale both as a hard copy and for your Kindle for a song.

So be somebody and buy your copy today!

Awright. Enough shameless self-promotion for one day. Real blog entry for the IT Awards tomorrow.

Pissing in the sink,

James "World's Best Roommate" Comtois

Why Not Buy a Script to Pass the Time?

Before I officially announce the schedule of Nosedive Central's upcoming shows (we've been given the dates unofficially, but we need to remain mum for the time being so they can get confirmed and solidified), I just wanted to humbly remind you that while you wait for that info, you can buy Infectious Opportunity for your Kindle.

Same goes with Suburban Peepshow.

They're good plays. They're inexpensive. Just sayin.

Helping you wait for big news,

James "Cyber Life-Coach" Comtois

Dainty Cadaver Plays in The Midway Journal

Piper McKenzie's Dainty Cadaver plays, in which I participated as an actor and writer, are now available to read in The Midway Journal.

(FYFI, I played Spencer in Team A, and wrote for Team C.)

Feel free to read at your leisure and go, "Um...what?"

A dainty writer,

James "Two-Step" Comtois

Infectious and Peepshow Available on Kindle

Did you know you can now read Infectious Opportunity and Suburban Peepshow on your Kindle?

Well, now you do.

Keeping his (and your) thumb on
the pulse of the publishing scene,

James "Digital Valtentine" Comtois

Hard Copies Waiting in the Mailbox: A Nice Welcome Home Gift

Well, I just got my copies of Infectious Opportunity. Have you?

A delightful stinker,

James "Hey, Does He Still Blog?" Comtois

1,000th Post, Publishing News

I've been away from this site for a while for two reasons. The first is I realized that this would be my 1,000th post on this site, and in predictable OCD fashion, didn't want to completely waste it on a "Check out this YouTube video of a singing taint!" (not that such a video wouldn't be completely awesome to watch; I'd just rather use the 1,000th post to feature one of my singing taint videos).

The second is that I wanted to wait for the official green light to announce that news I had hinted at a couple weeks back. Now that it's on their site, I suppose I can blab about this.

Shortly after its NYIT Award nomination, Original Works Publishing has decided to publish Infectious Opportunity as part of its catalogue.

Copies are available for pre-sale now. There's also some information on the publisher's Facebook page.

I mean, look. I know this isn't what you'd expect for a milestone post or anything, since I'm offering no sort of retrospective on this site. But really, if I'm not offering any taint-dancing videos, who really cares about what the first blog post on this site was?

No time to reminisce,

James "Anti-Romantic" Comtois

OWP Titles Available at the Drama Book Shop

Oops. Spoke far too soon (hence today's post being immediately deleted). Original Works Publishing is planning on putting my play, Suburban Peepshow, on the shelves of the Drama Book Shop at some point in the future.

In the meantime, as a test run, there are nine, count 'em, nine, plays by OWP that are available at the fine shop on West 40th Street, including a couple from my good friend, Johnna Adams and colleagues Ken Urban and Bekah Brunstetter.

They are:

Eight
By Ella Hickson

Cockfighters
By Johnna Adams

Sans Merci
By Johnna Adams

Militant Language
By Sean Christopher Lewis

Poona the Fuckdog
By Jeff Goode

Private Lives of Eskimos
By Ken Urban

Screwups
By Justin Warner

Terminus Americana
By Matt Pelfrey

You May Go Now
By Bekah Brunstetter

So if you like buying things but hate buying them online, those in the New York area are in luck, because now you can purchase these fine shows in person at the Drama Book Shop.

Supporting his local merchants,

James "Stinky Derelict" Comtois

I Have Finished...

...the rough draft of Infectious Opportunity. With 11 days to spare from my (and Dorothy's) deadline!

Now let's find out of this thing's any good.

We shall see, we shall see.

Relieved and anxious,

James "Total Mess" Comtois

The Adventures of Nervous-Boy Featured in One on One

When I got home last night, I found a package waiting for me at my front door. I had no idea what it was.

When I opened it, I found five copies of this:

The first monologue in the book? Nervous-Boy's love confessional to Emily from The Adventures of Nervous-Boy.

I was asked to participate in this over a year and a half ago, and had heard nothing about it since, so to say that I had completely forgotten about this is quite an understatement. So it was a nice little surprise.

But yeah. It's now available. So those that want to use a socially inept sociopath's babble as audition fodder can do so by buying this here.

Still anxious about the election despite
this unexpected bit of good news,

James "Nail-biter" Comtois

Well, I Just...

...finished the rough draft to my theoretical contribution to the next Blood Brothers show. Let's just all cross our fingers and hope that we can actually, y'know, do it (read: get the rights since it's an adaptation).

One script down for this month, two to go.

Almost halfway there,

James "The Ritchie Sambora of the
New York Indie Theatre Scene" Comtois

Episode Two

PINKIE

Episode II: Former Clients, Former Colleagues

By James Comtois

BLOSSOM: (Either off-stage or directly to the audience.) The Pinkerton National Detective Agency was a nationwide private detective agency established by Allan Pinkerton in 1850. The agency's logo, an eye embellished with the words "We Never Sleep," inspired the term "private eye." During its height, the Pinkerton Detective Agency employed more agents than the U.S. standing army. By the 1890s, some believed the organization was a necessary force in maintaining peace and order while remaining under the radar. Some believed Pinkertons, or "Pinkies," were corrupt mercenaries hired by Robber Barons to infiltrate labor unions and intimidate strikers...

If BLOSSOM is on-stage, she now exits.

The following is an audio montage of lines from last month's episode.

VOICE: (Off, prerecorded.) Previously, on Pinkie...

STUBBY: (Ibid.) I was told that this store was bought to be a detective agent's office...

DUSTY: It is. How can I help you?

STUBBY: My name's Stubby Gilbert. I run the Arcade Saloon.

DUSTY: I'm Dusty Denton.

STUBBY: Lately, I've been dealing with some threatening behavior. I've woken up to the sound of people on horseback circling around my home and screaming nasty insults. Also, the windows of the Arcade have been broken by rocks. I have reason to believe this is the work of Jason Norris. He had expressed interest in purchasing the Arcade. When I told him it wasn't for sale, he stopped being polite.

DUSTY: Do you have Mr. Norris's address?

STUBBY: Yes. If you're going over there, make sure you have at least two guns. His boys are always-

DUSTY: -I don't even have one gun, Stubby. I refuse to carry one.

CHARLIE: I was told that Dusty Denton had opened up a detective agency in this town and I could find him at this address. I'm Charlie. Charlie Burnside.

DUSTY: What are you doing here, Charlie?

CHARLIE: Oh, hey now. Is that any way to treat your old partner?

DUSTY: We have no business together, Charlie. Not anymore.

CHARLIE: No, but you see, Dusty. We do. I've heard that Stubby is thinking of hiring you to help him with his predicament. You're no longer a Pinkerton Agent. You have no right snooping around the Big Boys' turf. Stubby is our client.

EILEEN: That's just awful. Our first client and we have to turn him down.

DUSTY: We won't be turning him down, Eileen. I'll be paying Mr. Norris a visit.

End of audio recap.
Darkness.

DUSTY: (In darkness.) Mr. Norris? Mr. Norris? The door was open. Are you here? Where's the...ah... (Finds a lantern and lights it. The newly lit room in Mr. Norris's house reveals a DEAD BODY on the floor.) Have to say, you have an enormous...(Sees body.)...house...(Approaches body cautiously.) Mr. Norris, I presume? (Check's the BODY'S pockets. Finds wallet. Takes out identification, unfolds it and reads.) Well, there goes my one and only suspect. And lead.

BLOSSOM enters.

BLOSSOM: (As she enters.) You do like to make a lady hunt, don't you, Mr. Norr- (Sees DUSTY and BODY. Looks horrified. Screams.) Oh my God oh my God what have you done? Who are you what are you doing here? Murder! Murder!

DUSTY: Settle down miss. Settle down. I'm unarmed.

BLOSSOM: What are you doing here?

DUSTY: Same thing you're doing: discovering Norris's body and trying to keep my wits together.

BLOSSOM: You're not armed?

DUSTY: No, miss. Are you?

BLOSSOM: Of course not!

DUSTY: Miss, the body's cold. He's been dead for a while now. If I did this, I wouldn't be waiting around for someone like you to come along.

BLOSSOM: (Catching her breath and regaining her wits.) You a friend?

DUSTY: No. But neither are you, or you would have referred to Mr. Norris by his Christian name.

BLOSSOM: Who are you?

DUSTY: My name's William. And I'm just as shocked as you are to find Mr. Norris like this.

BLOSSOM: You with the Sheriff?

DUSTY: No.

BLOSSOM: You a Pinkie?

DUSTY: I assure you, no.

BLOSSOM: Then what are you doing here?

DUSTY: I might ask you the same thing, since neither of us live here and both of us entered uninvited.

BLOSSOM: I was invited, sir. Mr. Norris was expecting me.

DUSTY: Then you got one up on me.

BLOSSOM: You are snooping, though. You've got that Pinkerton stink all over you.

DUSTY: It's hard to wash off.

BLOSSOM: Stubby asked you here, didn't he? (DUSTY says nothing.) I thought so. I knew he'd take his grudge with Mr. Norris so far he'd hire a Pinkie to intimidate him. (Pause.) I'm right, aren't I?

DUSTY: You tell me. Like I said, you know Mr. Norris, but aren't on a first-name basis. Plus, you've gone from screaming banshee to smooth spitfire in under 60 seconds. Now look, lady. You're at the scene of a murder crying crocodile tears. I think it's in your best interest to start explaining yourself.

BLOSSOM: Fine. Mr. Norris is-was-a client of mine.

DUSTY: Client.

BLOSSOM: Do I have to spell it out for you?

DUSTY: My former colleagues used to complain I was a little slow.

BLOSSOM: (Sighs.) I'm a-

DUSTY: -It's fine. You're a prostitute, I know. I had a hunch when you walked in.

BLOSSOM: (!!!)

DUSTY: I'm not judging you. Girl's got to make a living. And let me guess. You work for Stubby at the Arcade and I'm guessing not as a barmaid. (She opens her mouth to speak.) Since you know there's no love lost atwixt the two gentlemen, I'm guessing this job is on the side and under the radar, unbeknownst to Stubby. This is why I'm guessing you have no intention of contacting the Sheriff. It's fine. I was planning on doing that.

BLOSSOM: For a private investigator, you talk an awful lot.

DUSTY: My former colleagues used to complain I was a little uncouth.

BLOSSOM: You don't know everything.

DUSTY: I actually know a lot less.

BLOSSOM: What exactly are you looking for, William?

DUSTY: For starters, your name.

BLOSSOM: Oh. Blossom.

DUSTY: Well, Blossom. So far I've got everything right, haven't I?

BLOSSOM: Fine. It's true: I work for Stubby Gilbert along with three other women at the Arcade. It's no secret. Nor is it a secret that Mr. Norris paid handsomely for entertainment. That he was discrete and not abusive and wanted our secret to be a secret as much as I did made the offer too good to refuse.

DUSTY: He hire any other women from the Arcade?
BLOSSUM. Not on your life. I think I was the only one he trusted.

DUSTY: Don't sell yourself short, Blossom. I'm sure he found more than just your loyalty appealing.

BLOSSOM: Careful, Pinkie. Are you looking for answers or a date? I sincerely doubt you can afford what I was charging Mr. Norris.

DUSTY: I told you, Blossom, I'm not a Pinkie. And if I'm looking for a date, I promise I'll go through Stubby first.

BLOSSOM: Something tells me I shouldn't hold my breath waiting for that appointment.

DUSTY: You wouldn't want to end up like Mr. Norris.

BLOSSOM: You do know how to sweet-talk a lady.

DUSTY: My former colleagues used to complain I was a little artless.

BLOSSOM: I'll concur.

DUSTY: Who do you think killed Mr. Norris?

BLOSSOM: I haven't the slightest. Why would Stubby hire you if-

DUSTY: -Who ever said Stubby hired me?

BLOSSOM: He did, didn't he?

DUSTY: Why would he hire me?

BLOSSOM: Not the most subtle sleuthhound, are you?

DUSTY: Another complaint my former colleagues had.

BLOSSOM: How did you deal with all that griping?

DUSTY: I quit.

BLOSSOM: I suppose that's one way to deal with that.

DUSTY: It beats all the work involved in self-improvement.

BLOSSOM: I'd be willing to bet Stubby hired you to either intimidate Mr. Norris or find blackmail material to make Mr. Norris turn over his antique arquebus.

DUSTY: (Poker face.) Mmn.

BLOSSOM: Well, let me tell you, William, I do think Stubby is a decent man and a decent employer but what he's doing hiring you stinks. He has no right to Mr. Norris's arquebus and no business trying to take it from him.

DUSTY: Why didn't Stubby ask for this...I'm to assume priceless...? (BLOSSOM nods.) ...heirloom as payment for the Arcade?

BLOSSOM: He did. Mr. Norris was vaguely interested in buying the Arcade, not intent upon it. When Stubby insisted that his antique gun was the only payment he'd accept, Mr. Norris rescinded the offer. The Arcade's prospering, but it's not that valuable.

DUSTY: And this gun is?

BLOSSOM: Stubby figures it's worth enough to retire early on.

DUSTY: Who's telling you all this?

BLOSSOM: Both Stubby and Mr. Norris. They both refuse to stop complaining to me about the other.

DUSTY: And Stubby's willing to blackmail and extort for this arquebus?

BLOSSOM: Well, Stubby believes he's the rightful owner. That gun, according to him, was stolen from his great-great-grandfather.

DUSTY: Have you seen it?

BLOSSOM: The gun? Oh, yes. Mr. Norris had it hanging above his mantelpiece until Stubby started asking about it.

DUSTY: Where is it now?

BLOSSOM: No idea. Mr. Norris hid it. May not even be in the house.

DUSTY: Well, the place doesn't appear to have been robbed, so if whoever did this was after the gun, they knew where to look and didn't disrupt anything. Except, of course, for Mr. Norris's well being.

BLOSSOM: Stubby wants the arquebus, but I don't think he'd kill for it.

DUSTY: Stubby says it's his great-great-grandfather's. I'm assuming Mr. Norris was saying something similar.

BLOSSOM: Both claim their great-great-grandfather used it to win a duel.

DUSTY: I'm also assuming there's no engraving on it to make this all easier if we find it...

BLOSSOM: None that I saw when it was on display.

DUSTY: Of course not. That would make life easy.

BLOSSOM: And we both know that's never the case.

DUSTY: I take it you're not buying Stubby's side of the story.

BLOSSOM: I have my doubts. Mr. Norris has been a shrewd businessman, but he's no thief. And if an ancestor did steal it, it's a bit too late to be claiming ownership.

DUSTY: Tell that to the Indians.

BLOSSOM: Mmn.

DUSTY: At the risk of sounding rude, for a girl of the line, you do sound a lot like Mr. Norris's biographer.

BLOSSOM: You're certainly right about being rude.

DUSTY: I plead guilty.

BLOSSOM: Another complaint your former colleagues had?

DUSTY: You'd think they'd find at least something nice to say to break the monotony a little.

BLOSSOM: What can I say? Mr. Norris is dead. I'm rattled. When I get nervous I end up talking too much.

DUSTY: Fair enough. Makes my job a little easier.

BLOSSOM: Besides, it's not as if I have anything to hide.

DUSTY: Aside from having Mr. Norris as your client.

BLOSSOM: Which you have no reason to repeat to anybody.

DUSTY: I've been in town less than a day. I have no friends to tell.

BLOSSOM: You're a funny one, William. You're not like the other Pinkies.

DUSTY: I actually take that as a huge compliment.

BLOSSOM: Most would insist on "free ones" to keep quiet.

DUSTY: That sounds like my former colleagues.

BLOSSOM: So you were a Pinkie.

DUSTY: Like I said, hard to wash off that stink.

BLOSSOM: Look, whatever Stubby's hired you to do, I don't care. Personally, I don't think he's entitled to Mr. Norris's arquebus, but it's really none of my business. Fella's got to make a living. Anyway, I should go. (Starts to exit. Stops.) You know, thanks to Mr. Norris, I have a lot more money than you would believe. Find out who did this. I'll pay you a handsome reward, William.

DUSTY: What if I need to see you again?

BLOSSOM: You know where to find me. (Exits.)

DUSTY: (To himself.) "Speak" to. "Speak to" you again. Come on, Denton. You're supposed to be smoother than that. (Pause. Looks at the BODY.) Well, Eileen. We got ourselves a dead body and a Hooker With a Heart of Hate, telling me some bosh about some missing heirloom. Still, maybe I should look into this story about this priceless gun. Well, not sure if there's any point lingering here talking to myself. Maybe a cursory look around the place then a visit to the Sheriff's to-

HARRY: (Off.) Mike! Hey, Mike!

MIKE: (Off.) Yeah, what?

HARRY: (Off.) Put that down and get in here!

MIKE: (Off.) Why do you need me, Harry?

HARRY: (Off.) Mr. Norris said he wanted to see both of us. Now come on!

DUSTY exits to hide. MIKE and HENRY, no older than 19, enter.

MIKE: I swear, Harry. Norris says frog and you...(They see the BODY.)...jump...

HARRY: Holy smokes.

MIKE: Sweet Jesus.

HARRY: What the hell happened here?

MIKE: We got to get the Sheriff.

HARRY: You kidding? He'll think we did it!

MIKE: Halfwit, he'll think we did it if we don't go to him!

HARRY: This is a nightmare...

MIKE: Sally's going to blow her stack...

HARRY: Mike, you gotta forget Sally. She's the least of your worries.

MIKE: I guess so.

HARRY: Norris got more than he bargained for with the Pinkertons.

CHARLIE enters.

CHARLIE: I say, my ears are ringing. (MIKE and HARRY stiffen.) Now, what are we boys...(Sees BODY.) Oh. I...see. (Very deviant, haughty tone.) In a spot of trouble, are we, boys?

HARRY: We didn't do this, we swear!

MIKE: We just got here, Detective Burnside, honest!

CHARLIE: (Examining the BODY.) Calm down, boys. This body's cold. Been dead several hours. Blow to the head with a blunt object. I know you boys aren't murderers. You don't have it in you?

MIKE: How would you know that?

HARRY: For Christ's sake, shut up, Mike!

CHARLIE: It's in the eyes. The posture. Whether or not there's piss running down the pant legs at the sight of a corpse. (Both MIKE and HARRY check their pant legs.) You do my job as long as I have, some things you can recognize as easy as your mother's face. Harry's right, by the way. Mike, Sally's the least of your worries. Stubby already thinks you're a bad egg. He finds out you're sweet on one of his girls, he's sure to have you bite the ground and leave you like your former employer here.

MIKE: How did you know that-

CHARLIE: -I have my sources. We Never Sleep.

MIKE: I mean, blazes, Detective Burnside. Do you think Stubby's as dangerous as he's been wanting us to believe? You don't think he'd go so far as to-

CHARLIE: (Notices lantern.) Thought you boys said you just got here.

HARRY: We did!

MIKE: No less than a minute after you!

CHARLIE: (Indicating lantern.) Then who lit that? (Silence.)

HARRY: That was on when we got here.

CHARLIE: Someone's been here since Mr. Norris was killed. (Silence.)

MIKE: Who?

CHARLIE: I have an idea. I also have a good source who can fill me in on some of the missing pieces.

HARRY: Who?

CHARLIE: (Pause.) Boys, I think you better go. Go tell the Sheriff to get here right away. I think he'd like to know his cousin is dead. I'll search the house to see if anything was stolen. I probably won't be here by the time you get back, but tell the Sheriff I'll be at my hotel in an hour if he needs to contact me.

HARRY: Okay.

MIKE: Sure thing, Detective Burnside. Let's go, Harry.

CHARLIE: Oh, and one more thing, fellas. There's a bad egg that's just come into town. He'll most likely be snooping around the area, acting like a Pinkerton Agent. I assure you, he's most certainly nothing of the sort. My colleagues and I have reason to believe he's very dangerous and intends to rob the Norris estate. When you're done with the Sheriff and whatever final chores you had to do for Mr. Norris, come to my hotel and I'll give you all the information you need on this curly wolf and how you can take him down if you cross paths.

MIKE & HARRY: Yes, sir.

HARRY: (To MIKE.) Told you Norris got more than he bargained for with the Pinkertons.

MIKE: For God's sake, Harry, shut up! (MIKE and HARRY exit.)

CHARLIE: (Looking around. Pulls out gun.) Whoever's been here, you best still not be around. You woke up the wrong passenger. (Exits through different hallway than

DUSTY:)

DUSTY reenters, checks hallway Charlie went down. Looks at Norris's BODY.

DUSTY: (To Norris's BODY.) Don't know about you, Norris, but I could certainly go for some tongue oil and some ladies of the line.

TO BE CONTINUED

© 2007 James Comtois

To Get Everyone Up To Speed...

...I'm posting the scripts to the first two episodes of Pinkie. Episode Three, "Local Color," goes up tomorrow night at the Battle ranch.

Here's episode one:

PINKIE

Episode I: What’s That Smell? (Pilot)

By James Comtois

CHARLIE: (Either off-stage or directly to the audience.) The Pinkerton National Detective Agency was a nationwide private detective agency established by Allan Pinkerton in 1850. The agency's logo, an eye embellished with the words "We Never Sleep," inspired the term "private eye." During its height, the Pinkerton Detective Agency employed more agents than the U.S. standing army. By the 1890s, some believed the organization was a necessary force in maintaining peace and order while remaining under the radar. Some believed Pinkertons, or "Pinkies," were corrupt mercenaries hired by Robber Barons to infiltrate labor unions and intimidate strikers...

If CHARLIE is on-stage, he now exits.

EILEEN and WILLIAM "DUSTY" DENTON enter a storefront that's in disarray.

EILEEN: What's that smell?

DUSTY: It's the smell of a new life, Eileen.

EILEEN: Smells of possum urine.

DUSTY: We'll air it out. It'll do.

EILEEN: I don't know, Mr. Denton. I think word of mouth that this place stinks of possum piss is gonna drive customers away.

DUSTY: Come on, Eileen. That's no way to think. With a bit of grit and some elbow grease, we'll get this place in shape in no time.

EILEEN: I hope so. I'm feeling light-headed.

DUSTY: Oh, you're being melodramatic.

EILEEN: I'm getting the vapors.

DUSTY: Crack a window, then.

EILEEN: I was going to ask you how you could afford a place like this, but now I know.

DUSTY: Oh, hey now. I'm pretty sure within a week you'll be thinking of this place as your home away from home. Plus, it wasn't that cheap.

EILEEN: Pinkies get paid well?

DUSTY: I did.

EILEEN: And judging by the sound of your voice you want me to keep talking about this.

DUSTY: (Smiles.) Always were a sharp one, Eileen.

EILEEN: Thank you, Mr. Denton.

DUSTY: Please, Eileen. Mr. Denton's my father's name. Dusty's fine. Or even William.

EILEEN: I'll see what I can do, Mr. Denton.

DUSTY: Fair enough. Will you look at this place? I love it already.

EILEEN: You seem chipper today.

DUSTY: Well, what can I say? I have a good feeling about this. But who knows? Maybe that's just because it's the first day, and nothing's happened to sour my mood.

EILEEN: Could be.

DUSTY: So let's find out what's causing that stink and get rid of it.

EILEEN: (Sighs.) Fine.
They start trying to put things in order, cleaning up chairs and moving aside trash. While they do so, a sullen-looking man, STUBBY GILBERT, enters.

STUBBY: Uh, excuse me? Is this...is this the...whoo! What's that smell?

DUSTY: We're not sure. Eileen thinks a possum micturated in the closet.

EILEEN: Not in the closet. On every square inch of this place.

DUSTY: Eileen...

STUBBY: It's pretty strong.

EILEEN: I think it got the curtains, too-

DUSTY: -We're working on it. How can I help you?

STUBBY: Anyway. Is this the Pinkerton Agency?

DUSTY: Ah, no, not exactly.

STUBBY: Oh. But I was told that this store was bought to be a detective agent's office...

DUSTY: Oh, it is. But I'm not a Pinkie. As in, I was, but not...how can I help you?

STUBBY: Well, my name's Stubby Gilbert. I run the Arcade Saloon, about four doors down.

DUSTY: Oh, hello. I'm Dusty Denton. This is my assistant, Eileen Clayton.

STUBBY: Pleased to meet you both.

EILEEN: Likewise.

DUSTY: How can I help you?

STUBBY: Well, I am in need of some help. You're a private investigator?

DUSTY: I am.

STUBBY: How much do you charge?

DUSTY: The standard rate is ten dollars a day plus expenses.

STUBBY: That seems more than reasonable.

DUSTY: I believe so.

STUBBY: I don't know if I can trust you, but...

DUSTY: Well, that makes two of us.

STUBBY: Pardon?

DUSTY: We've just met. There's no reason for either one of us to trust one another. But that's a risk we'll have to take for now.

STUBBY: Fair enough.

DUSTY: So, how bout you tell me your story and I'll let you know if I can help you?

STUBBY: Okay.

DUSTY: Eileen? You ready?

EILEEN: Yes, Mr. Denton. (Begins to take notes.)

STUBBY: Like I said, I run the Arcade Saloon four doors down. I bought it from Skinny Walker three years ago. I have all the paperwork proving its legitimacy if you need-

DUSTY: -Stubby. I've been a resident of this town for roughly one hour. Yes, I'm a private investigator, which makes me suspicious by nature. But I have no reason yet to not take its residents or businesses at face value. If you say you run the local saloon, you run the local saloon.

STUBBY: Oh. Sure. Well, I run a good, clean establishment. And it's been profitable, too. But lately, I've been dealing with some threatening behavior from a group of ne'erdowells.

DUSTY: Threatening? How do you mean?

STUBBY: Well, I've woken up late at night to the sound of people on horseback circling around my home and screaming nasty insults.

DUSTY: Death threats?

STUBBY: Well, not exactly. Mostly just insults. But it's definitely threatening. Also, the windows of the Arcade have been broken on more than a couple occasions by people throwing rocks.

DUSTY: Any of them have notes attached to them?

STUBBY: No, sir.

DUSTY: Okay. Now...are you sure these incidents are related? Maybe this is a series of coincidences? Just..."boys being boys?"

STUBBY: I don't think so. These incidents have been happening too often to make me think it's just a coincidence. Plus, they do coincide with another incident.

DUSTY: Which is...?

STUBBY: I have reason to believe this is the work of Jason Norris. He's a profiteer. Makes his fortune on a number of industries all at once, ranging from dry goods to the railroads. He had expressed interest in purchasing the Arcade. When I told him it wasn't for sale, he kept trying. When I insisted, he stopped being polite about it. Started telling me that I was being a damn stubborn fool and that the saloon would be his within six months time and I should just accept that as fact. When I refused to budge, he stopped asking. Kept to himself from then on.

DUSTY: So the harassment began shortly after he stopped asking you about the Arcade?

STUBBY: Yes, sir. And he has some ne'erdowells, young kids, no older n' fifteen, sixteen, working for him as hired hands. I have reason to believe they're the same kids that have been harassing me these past few days.

DUSTY: Now, why would he want the Arcade so badly? If he already has other prospects, I can't imagine-

STUBBY: -It's the most lucrative business in six counties. Norris wants to settle down here. He just built a house. He has no interest in going back east. Plus, he's always been used to getting his way. If he wants something, he doesn't take no for an answer.

DUSTY: Has anyone been hurt?

STUBBY: No, not yet. But I don't want to wait around until they do.

DUSTY: I understand. Now, may I ask why you don't just talk to the sheriff about this? I met him earlier this week and he seems like a reasonable man. If you just-

STUBBY: -The sheriff is a reasonable man. And a just man. But when it comes to Norris, he's completely blinded.

DUSTY: They have history?

STUBBY: You could say that. They're cousins.

DUSTY: Fair enough.

STUBBY: No, the sheriff would just say I'm being paranoid and mean-spirited and trying to ruin the reputation of a good man with no proof.

DUSTY: I see.

STUBBY: So can you help me?

DUSTY: Perhaps. Do you have Mr. Norris's address?

STUBBY: Yes. I wrote it down right here. (Hands DUSTY a piece of paper. DUSTY takes it.) It's about eight miles south of the center of town. Right by the river.

DUSTY: Okay, thank you.

STUBBY: If you're going over there, make sure you have at least two guns. His boys are always-

DUSTY: -I don't even have one gun, Stubby.

STUBBY: Oh. Well, if you need, I'm sure you could see Jimmy and he could get you a good deal on-

DUSTY: -I haven't misplaced my gun, Stubby. I refuse to carry one.

STUBBY: Ever?

DUSTY: Ever.

STUBBY: But, Mr. Denton...

DUSTY: Dusty, please.

STUBBY: Well, Dusty, Norris's boys are pretty rough. You should have a gun on you if you're going to confront him.

DUSTY: I assure you, Stubby. I no longer carry a firearm. Even if I did, I would never use it. I don't believe I need one.

STUBBY: Suit yourself. Sounds like suicide to me, but I s'pose you know what you're doing.

DUSTY: I always suppose that myself.

STUBBY: What? Oh. Right. Well, anyway, if you want to come by to the Arcade tomorrow to keep me posted, or to just have a drink on the house, or...well, let me know.

DUSTY: Will do.

STUBBY: Thank you, Dusty. Welcome to town! (They shake hands, STUBBY exits.)

DUSTY: Well, that's good news! Our first client and our first case on Day One!

EILEEN: Things are looking up, Mr. Denton.

DUSTY: I guess we'll have to put the cleaning on hold and get to work.

EILEEN: I suppose so.

DUSTY: I'll check out the address Stubby gave me first thing tomorrow...okay, you know what? The smell's really getting to me.

EILEEN: I can barely stay conscious, Mr. Denton.

DUSTY: Do you think the general store is still open? I'm going to get some cleaning supplies.

EILEEN: Only one way to find out.

DUSTY: Right. I'll be right back. (Exits. Pause. Enters.) Eileen?

EILEEN: Yes, Mr. Denton?

DUSTY: Where is the general store?

EILEEN: I believe it's right in the center of town.

DUSTY: Okay. (Thinks about it.) Okay.

EILEEN: You're a detective, Mr. Denton. I think you can find it.

DUSTY: Right. Right! I am. (Determined and confident, he exits.)

EILEEN resumes cleaning with what little resources she has. CHARLIE BURNSIDE, a well-dressed man, enters, admiring the place.

CHARLIE: What's that smell?

EILEEN: Oh, that. Yeah, sorry.

CHARLIE: Smells like possum urine.

EILEEN: We're trying to air it out. Can I help you?

CHARLIE: Yes. I was told that Dusty Denton had opened up a detective agency in this town and I could find him at this address. True?

EILEEN: Well, yes. He's not in at the moment, but if you'd like to wait...

CHARLIE: Well, I can't stay long.

EILEEN: He should just be a minute. He left to pick up some supplies.

CHARLIE: (Walking around the room.) Gotta say, Dusty's done quite well for himself.

EILEEN: Are you a friend?

CHARLIE: Oh, yes. An old friend from home. (Extends hand.) I'm Charlie. Charlie Burnside.

EILEEN: (Accepts hand.) Eileen Clayton.

CHARLIE: Charmed. You know, I've known Dusty a long while and he never mentioned anything about you...

EILEEN: Well, oh, no. We're not...I just work for him.

CHARLIE: Ah, I see. Well, I can see why he hired you. (Pinches her cheek. EILEEN looks uncomfortable.) If he needs to have an assistant around him all day, might as well have someone easy on the eyes.

EILEEN: (Breaks free. Cold.) Well, yes. Thank you. I think he needed help organizing files.

CHARLIE: Our boy's got a lot of files already?

EILEEN: Well...it's our first day.

CHARLIE: So it is, so it is.

EILEEN: Now, perhaps it may be a while longer, if you'd like to just relay a message and let me know where you're staying I could tell Mr. Denton-

CHARLIE: (Definitely more sinister.) -Oh, but Miss Clayton. I thought he'd be here any moment. Are you telling me to leave?

EILEEN: (Nervous.) Well, no, I didn't exactly say that...

CHARLIE: I thought Dusty would want someone with manners to be mining his...store.

EILEEN: Mr. Burnside, I believe-

CHARLIE: -Charlie, please.

EILEEN: Mr. Burnside, you are being unnecessarily forward, and I don't believe Mr. Denton would appreciate this behavior.

CHARLIE: (Cornering EILEEN) Oh, I'm sure when Dusty sees me, he'll forgive my garish conduct. We are, after all, old friends.

EILEEN: Why am I finding that hard to believe?

CHARLIE: (Grabbing her by the wrists.) You've got a mouth on you, Miss Clayton. Guess Dusty's not one for teaching his staff manners.
DUSTY enters, holding bags of supplies.

DUSTY: Wow, Eileen. Our first day and we already have... (DUSTY and CHARLIE face each other. DUSTY's smile falls. Silence.) Charlie.

CHARLIE: (Letting go of EILEEN.) Hello, Dusty. Good to see you again. (Silence.) Don't you feel the same about me?

DUSTY: What are you doing here, Charlie?

CHARLIE: Oh, hey now. Is that any way to treat your old partner?

EILEEN: Mr. Denton, this person said you were old friends from home...

DUSTY: (Not taking his eyes off CHARLIE) Did he now?

EILEEN: Is everything okay?

DUSTY: Well, I don't know, Charlie. Is everything okay?

CHARLIE: You know, I was beginning to think your pretty little assistant here had acquired a nasty attitude on her own, but it's clear now who she looks to for her sense of hospitality.

DUSTY: Get the hell out of here, Charlie.

CHARLIE: Oh, and see I was hoping we could at least play nice for a few minutes before getting down to business.

DUSTY: We have no business together, Charlie. Not anymore.

CHARLIE: No, but you see, Dusty. We do. I've heard that Stubby is thinking of hiring you to help him with his predicament.

DUSTY: How the hell did you find that...that's none of your business.

CHARLIE: I mean, I'm proud of you trying to start things up anew for yourself. Really, I am. But I did want to let you know that the Pinkertons can take care of this one.

DUSTY: What?

CHARLIE: After all, it is your first day. Why don't you take things slowly, solve some small, fun cases? You know, getting to the bottom of Mrs. Crabtree's missing linens? Or discovering the whereabouts of Texas Steve's missing horse? Or even find out who's fucking the sheriff's wife? Something like this, with Stubby, well...you may be in over your head. You don't have the resources needed to investigate such a matter.

DUSTY: It's none of your business, Charlie.

CHARLIE: No, but you see, Dusty. It is. You're no longer a Pinkerton Agent. You have no right snooping around the Big Boys' turf. Stubby is our client.

DUSTY: The hell he is.

CHARLIE: (Pulls out his gun.) You misunderstand, Dusty. He's our client if you know what's best for you. (Silence.) Now, do you want to settle this honorably, or...oh, wait. That's right. You don't have a piece anymore, do you? Get all shaken carrying it. I forgot.

DUSTY: Get the hell out of here, Charlie.

CHARLIE pistol-whips DUSTY, who falls to the ground, tripping over a chair. EILEEN yelps out in surprise.

CHARLIE: With pleasure, you cowardly traitor. I was just trying to be nice here, Dusty, on account of our, you know, "history."

EILEEN: Get the hell out of here, you brute!

CHARLIE: (Pause.) All right. Fine. Since this is your first day, Dusty, I'm going to be nice. Tonight, enjoy your housewarming. Tomorrow, you call that barkeep and tell him you won't be able to take his case. The Pinkerton Agency will take care of it. (Exits.)

EILEEN: Oh, Mr. Denton. Mr. Denton! Are you okay? What a monster!

DUSTY: I'll be okay, Eileen. Thank you, thank you.

EILEEN: That's just awful. Our first client and we have to turn him down.

DUSTY: We won't be turning him down, Eileen. I'll be paying Mr. Norris a visit. Right after we get rid of that God-awful smell.

TO BE CONTINUED

© 2007 James Comtois

"Vagina Dentata" Gets Remounted in Vegas

It looks like in October through November, this company will stage this play of mine in Vegas. Hot dog!

Spreading the nastiness,

James "I Meant With The Writing" Comtois

I'm Back

With damn near nothing to report, aside from the blueberry beer in Maine still tastes like freakin' blueberries, people.

I just submitted Episode One of Nosedive's entry in Vampire Cowboys's impending Saturday Night Saloon, a Western/noir series called Pinkie, which I hope people will get a kick out of. It will be performed on Saturday, September 29 at the Vampire Cowboys Battle Ranch in Williamsburg. I just finished Episode Two and am halfway through Ep. Three, so I'm clearly having fun with this this Philip Marlowe-in-the-Wild West story.

Also, The Blood Brothers shows have all been cast, and I'm really looking forward to having everyone on board with this and excited to see how they'll all turn out. Matt Johnston will be directing my larger piece, "Listening to Reason," and it looks as though Lil' Sistois will be directing my shorter piece, "Metaphor."

I'll be nattering about The Blood Brothers Present: PULP on this site often for the next few weeks.

Wow. Looks as though I actually did have some things to report. How 'bout that?

Returning to the pile of work on my desk,

James "Sigh, Back to Work" Comtois

Friday Wrap-Up

I’ve just handed in my review for the Gallery Players’ production of Bury Him to Martin and am hoping to leave work a little earlier than usual. Considering I have only one assignment left and it’ll be done within the next 15 minutes, I’m thinking that’s a fair trade.

Pete and Patrick gave me, Mac and Qui a PDF of their selected Tales From the Crypt stories for us to peruse and adapt for the stage for October’s Blood Brothers Present: An Evening of Pulp Horror, which I just finished re-reading. Talk about a walk down Memory Lane. I haven’t given any of these stories/comics any thought since I was in high school (jr. high?), but at the time I was into E.C. Comics’ macabre tales, I must’ve read each of them about a dozen times.

I’ve mentally dog-eared the one I think I can sink my proverbial teeth into and have let Pete and Patrick know. I’ve also handed in a bookend piece, called “Metaphor,” which they’ll mull over to see if it’s appropriate for the evening.

What’s on my agenda for this weekend? Well, I’m going to take a few days off from playgoing to just goof off with some of the folks at Nosedive Central. My next scheduled play to see is Ian W. Hill’s Hamlet on Tuesday, so it’s not like I’m taking a real hiatus from playgoing.

And…ah-ha! I’m done my one assignment. I’m off like a prom dress. Have a good weekend, folks.

Mixing his metaphors,

James “Biff” Comtois

I've Finally...

...finished the rough draft of Colorful World. It still needs a lot of work, but for good or for bad, a readable rough has been completed.

That is, as the kids say, a load off.

Now I have to get the EC Comics material from Pete and Patrick to write some installments for The Blood Brothers Present, as well as rewrite A Very Nosedive Christmas Carol.

Ah, back to work.

And on a side note, you know what I don't give a flying fuck about?

The Tonys.

Just letting you know,

James "Open" Comtois

I'm Almost Done...

...with the superhero script. I was hoping to finish writing the final scene (which is mapped out), but I've been writing so much of it all week I now have a backlog of stories I need to write for my dayjob (that are all due today). I gave most of the Nosedive crew the first act and am hoping to send out the second act to them on Monday.

It now has a working title: Colorful World.

Yes, that's a weird reference to this song, which I've been playing on endless loop as I'm finishing the script:

Have a good weekend, folks.

Your salt lick,

James "Chump Change" Comtois