‘Call The Locksmith!”

CHARACTERS:

JACOB, co-owner of the coffee shop

BETH, co-owner of the coffee shop

POLICE OFFICER

KANDI SIMMONS, professional locksmith

DELIVERY MAN

Scene I

(Lights up on a coffee shop setting. In the background there is a long counter with comfortable looking barstools. Atop it rests an enormous brass coffee machine, clean and shiny with the marks of a skilled owner. Several glass cases dot the counter, filled with all sorts of delicious treats. Downstage there are several circular tables. Stage left there is a door leading outside. Stage right is a large brick fireplace, a vestige of the previous occupant of the building. The entire shop is meticulously clean, giving the impression that the owner(s) are well off and know how to run a business.

After a few moments, the doorknob turns a few times yet does not open. The signature click-click of a locked door sounds several more times. After a moment of silence, the sounds of a key being pressed into the lock followed by a loud snapping noise.)

MAN’S VOICE OFFSTAGE. Damn it!

WOMAN’S VOICE OFFSTAGE. Jacob, what’s wrong?

JACOB. The damn key—

WOMAN’S VOICE. What happened to the key?

JACOB. Beth—

BETH. What?

(Beat.)

JACOB. It broke off in the lock.

BETH. What?!

(Uneasy laughter from offstage.)

JACOB. Well...(Trails off. The doorknob turns a few more times as JACOB resorts to pounding on the door, hoping it busts down. Alas, it does not.)

BETH. Isn’t there a back door?

JACOB. There was when we first bought the place, but that pornography shop had us seal it. Remember when we got all those letters accusing us of stealing all their vibrating dildos and amateur tapes? The only reason they didn’t rob us of all our possessions was the idea to seal off any connections. Voila! – no back door or windows.

BETH. Why on Earth did we ever agree to that?

JACOB. Beats me. All I know is I have to go downtown to Max’s Adult Video Store now. (Beat.) Think we should call the police?

BETH. What can they do, break the door down?

JACOB. That’s a great idea! (Silence, followed by a slow, building yell from a distance. After which we hear a bone-crushing slam and girlish whimpering and sobbing.)

BETH. Great idea. (Silence.) Hello?

JACOB. (Dazed.) An ambulance might be nice...

BETH. I will, as soon as I get this damn thing open. (Doorknob turns again.)

JACOB. I’m fresh out of ideas.

SECOND MAN’S VOICE OFFSTAGE. Is there a problem here?

BETH. Officer! Look, our key broke off in the lock and we can’t get in.

POLICE OFFICER. Have you tried breaking down the door? (Beat. Quiet sob from JACOB.) Have you tried anything else?

JACOB. What about the windows?

BETH. They don’t open. Also, they’re bulletproof. (Beat.) Look, the grocer next door warned me about kids who found their pleasure in tossing bricks through the windows of innocent businesses in this area, and I was taking no chances! (Beat.) Don’t give me that look, Jacob!

POLICE OFFICER. Might I offer a suggestion? Why not call a locksmith?

JACOB. A locksmith...

POLICE OFFICER. Exactly. There’s one in the area, isn’t there?

BETH. Well, I would call them if Jacob and I had a cell phone. Our only source of communication is inside.

POLICE OFFICER. I can go call him from my squad car.

JACOB. Do you think this locksmith can help us?

BETH. Of course. Why couldn’t he? I’m sure he’s a professional. Hey, don’t we have a spare key?

JACOB. Yeah, here under the welcome mat, but it isn’t any use to us here.

BETH. Guess not. (Beat.) I hope that locksmith hurries—

JACOB. I got it! Give me the key!

BETH. Huh?

POLICE OFFICER. (His voice a bit distant, coming closer.) I called the locksmith’s office, they said they’d send—

JACOB. I’ve got an idea! (Sounds of running into the distance.)

POLICE OFFICER. Where the hell is he going?

BETH. I wish I knew.

(From the chimney of the fireplace comes a great tumbling noise, punctuated by shouts of “Ow!”, “Damnit!”, and other exclamations of agonizing pain. A cloud of dust and soot shoots out from inside followed by the dirty form of JACOB. He is a rather nervous looking man, wearing what one could pass as a coffee shop uniform. A coughing ensues.)

BETH. J-Jacob?! Is that you?

(JACOB gets to his feet slowly, still coughing violently. His leg gives way, forcing him to hold on to the counter for leverage.)

JACOB. Yes, I’m fine, dear.

BETH. (Sharply.) You better not be getting soot on my counter after I spent all evening cleaning it! (JACOB quickly lets go and consequently falls down.) Get over here and let us in! (JACOB gets to his feet and stumbles towards the door, bumping into a table and chairs before he finally reaches the door. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, he withdraws the sooty key from his pocket and slides it into the lock. Grinning, he turns it. No luck. Grimacing, he turns it again and again, getting angrier at each failure. Finally, it happens – a sharp snapping noise harks the breaking of the spare key. A look of overwhelming anguish passes over JACOB’S face.)

BETH. Well? What’s taking you so long?

JACOB. (Holding the broken key up in front of him. He is on the verge of tears.) I don’t want to talk about it.

POLICE OFFICER. Can you open the windows?

BETH. They don’t open.

POLICE OFFICER. Any windows in the back of the store?

JACOB. Porno shop.

(Beat.)

POLICE OFFICER. Climb back out, son, there’s no use staying inside.

JACOB. Excuse me? You want me to climb through that narrow soot-clogged bat-infested chute that hasn’t been cleaned since God-knows-when—

BETH. (Shouting.) I told you to call a chimney sweep!

JACOB. (Yells back.) And I told you there wasn’t any in the phone book!

BETH. And I told you that you didn’t look hard enough!

HIGH-PITCHED FEMALE VOICE OFFSTAGE. Someone call for a locksmith? (Giggle.)

BETH. (Incredulously.) You’re the locksmith?

FEMALE VOICE. Kandi Simmons, certified locksmith!

POLICE OFFICER. There is a broken key in the lock. Can you get it out?

KANDI. You bet, mister! Just let me reach into my little back of tricks. Now let’s see...ah! Here we are! Nothing solves a jammed lock like this little doosey. (The sounds of rattling inside the door’s lock.) That’s funny...woops, had it backwards! (Giggle. The sounds continue.) Hmm. I can’t get it to work. Is there a way inside?

BETH. (Sharply.) If there was a way inside we wouldn’t be standing here, now would we?

JACOB. There’s a chimney...

KANDI. Perfect! My grandpa was a chimney sweep! (Sounds of giggling and skipping.)

BETH. I’m not letting her in there with my husband alone.

POLICE OFFICER. H-hey! Get back here! (Silence.)

JACOB. (Looks around uneasily.) Beth? Er...Kandi? Officer? (Whimper.) Hello?

(A great rumble emanates from the chimney, a cacophony of sound mixed with shouting, swearing and crying. Then, with an eruption three times greater than JACOB’S entrance, BETH, POLICE OFFICER, and KANDI. BETH wears a conservative outfit; imagine a female version of JACOB’S clothing. KANDI should be scantily clad, to fit her bimbo personality. She is clutching a dirty workman’s bag. The POLICEMAN’S attire is self-explanatory.)

JACOB. Glad you could join the party!

KANDI. (Approaches JACOB, looking him over. JACOB lights up through all the soot and exhaustion. BETH looks furious.) So, do you own this coffee joint?

JACOB. (Enthusiastically, brushing off soot and slicking his hair back.) Why yes, yes I do...

BETH. (Angrily, to KANDI.) Why don’t you fix the damn door and be done with it? I’ve already lost enough business because of this stupid mess.

KANDI. (Scoff.) Fine...no need to bossy about it! (Giggles. JACOB laughs as well, but is stifled by daggers shot by BETH. Walking over to the door, KANDI kneels down beside the doorknob and extracts a long needle-like contraption from her bag. She inserts it into the keyhole, a look of deep concentration passing over her face. POLICE OFFICER, BETH and JACOB all lean in slowly, watching with great anticipation. For a split second, KANDI is a professional. But professionalism gives way to frustration, and soon enough KANDI is jamming the tool in and out of the lock. Soon enough, the tool breaks off. The group stares at it in disbelief. KANDI gets to her feet slowly, holding half of the tool in the palm of her hand. She offers it to them all.)

KANDI. (Apologetically.) I broke it.

(Lights out.

Scene II

(Darkness as time passes by. When the lights return slowly, the foursome are strewn about the coffee shop, all of them with looks of exhaustion. KANDI is seated on one of the stools, poking her face absent-mindedly with the broken tool. BETH and JACOB are seated at the center-stage table. POLICE OFFICER is seated against the fireplace, asleep. All of the cases of food are now empty. It can be assumed that many days have passed.)

BETH. (Wearily.) How much longer do we have to wait?

JACOB. (Throws arms up.) I’m sorry! How the hell was I supposed to know that I didn’t pay the phone bill?

KANDI. (Whiny voice.) I’m bored...

BETH. It was all I asked you to do this month! That and clean the coffee machine. Imagine that, the machine breaks the moment we try to turn it on.

JACOB. It’s not my fault. Poor craftsmanship, that’s what it is...

BETH. I asked you to fix a wire inside; you Scotch taped them together!

KANDI. I’m really bored...

BETH. I asked you to convince those perverts next door to let us have our back entrance again; you got beaten up!

JACOB. The owner is a really big guy!

KANDI. I’m really super bored...and hungry! (Shouts “hungry”.)

BETH. Help yourself to whatever cake we have left, that’s all we keep here.

KANDI. (Standing up, throwing her broken equipment to the ground.) I’m sick of cake! I’m sick of water! I want a beer and some chips! I hate this goddamn place! It sucks! Who the hell would want to come to a stupid coffee shop anyway? (Knocks one of the glass cases off the table. JACOB dives to catch it.) And another thing – who the hell lets a porn shop push them around? I hate all of you! I want out of here! Forget your stupid door! (Screaming, she runs to the fireplace and begins to crawl up. Soot and debris fall down as she disappears into the shaft. Her shouting dies away.)

POLICE OFFICER. (Stirring.) Is there any cake left?

(A knock at the door.)

JACOB. Someone is there! Help us, please!

BETH. Please, help! The door is locked – get a locksmith! Wait, no, don’t get a locksmith! Get a bulldozer!

(The doorknob, miraculously, begins to shake and turn slowly. It then falls out of the door entirely. It opens slowly, the three huddling close together. A rather meek-looking DELIVERY MAN enters slowly, staring at the others in utter disbelief. He holds out the small box in his hand.)

DELIVERY MAN. I’ve got your order for new doorknobs...?

(Lights down.)

(End.)