Put It Back!!!!!!!
CREATURES:
PETER – expectant father
SARA – his wife, in labor.
DR. HIRSCHE – The doctor.
BARNEY THE DINASOUR – The Prince of Darkness.
(A Delivery Room. SARA is laying on a bed with her knees up and her legs spread. DR.HIRSCHE stands in front of her. SARA pushes and screams.)
DR. HIRSCHE: It’s coming.
PETER: No it isn’t.
DR. HIRSCHE: Yes it is.
(SARA screams loudly.)
PETER: Dear God! We need an epidural.
SARA: Yes (SARA screams) yes, get me an epidural.
PETER: You too? Make that two epidurals!
DR. HIRSCHE: Push!
PETER: Don’t!
SARA: What?!?
PETER: Hold it.
SARA: Hold it?!? Are you fucking crazy?
PETER: Relax, honey. Maybe it will go away.
(SARA screams.)
PETER: That’s hardly relaxing.
SARA: Get this thing out of me!!!
PETER: Dear God.
DR. HIRSCHE: Push!
PETER: Stop!
DR. HIRSCHE: It is coming out.
PETER: Dear God! (PETER hyperventilates) Dear God!
DR. HIRSCHE: I see the crown.
SARA: (Long and sustained scream)
PETER: (Banging on the door and shouting) Let me out!
DR. HIRSCHE: There’s the head!!!
PETER: The head is here!! The head is here!!! Help!! Help!!! There isn’t much time! It’s coming! It’s coming!!!!!
(SARA continues to scream. The DR. HIRSCHE pulls the baby out and it begins to cry.)
DR. HIRSCHE: It’s here. It’s a boy.
SARA: A boy?
DR. HIRSCHE: Yes.
PETER: Put him back!
SARA: What?
DR. HIRSCHE: Put him back?
PETER: Please?
(The DR. HIRSCHE brings the baby to SARA.)
SARA: Take one step toward me and I’ll tear your balls off!!
(SARA moans in pain.)
DR. HIRSCHE: The mother is very tired. Why don’t you take the baby, Mr. Schroeder?
PETER: No thanks.
DR. HIRSCHE: What?
PETER: I’m allergic.
DR. HIRSCHE: (Approaching PETER) That’s ridiculous.
SARA: Just give him the baby.
PETER (Picking up a pair of forceps): Stand back! I’m heading for the door. If anyone tries to follow me I’ll, I’ll do something very bad with these.
DR. HIRSCHE: It’s just a baby; it can’t hurt you.
PETER: Oh yeah? Well, look what it did to Sara!
(SARA moans.)
DR. HIRSCHE: Look at him, Mr. Shroeder.
SARA: What does it look like?
PETER: Dear God in Heaven! It looks horrible!
SARA: Horrible? What did he do to our baby, PETER?
PETER: It’s hideous!
SARA: Oh no!
DR. HIRSCHE: All babies are like this when they’re born?
PETER: You can’t be serious! It looks like something from Area 51!
SARA: You mean our baby is an alien?
PETER: Is there something you should tell me, dear?
DR. HIRSCHE: I can show you; the nursery is full of them.
PETER: You mean there are more of them out there?
DR. HIRSCHE: Just outside the door, Mr. Schroeder.
(PETER opens the door light streams in accompanied by 1950s-B-rated-horrorfilm-music. PETER closes the door and leans against it.)
PETER: Dear God!
SARA: What?
PETER: He’s right. (PETER hyperventilates) Dear God! (PETER puts a chair in front of the door. Staring at the door.) They have the exits covered. There is no way out! (PETER goes up to the window) What floor are we on? Where’s the latch? There’s no latch!
SARA: No latch?
PETER: What did you do to the latch?
DR. HIRSCHE: There is no latch.
PETER: No latch? No latch? Dear God, there’s no latch!!
(PETER begins to weep.)
DR. HIRSCHE: Calm down!
PETER: I’m getting dizzy. (PETER breaths in. Fixation. Long pause. He looks asphyxiated.) I’ve forgotten how to breath! The whole room is spinning, collapsing! Getting smaller!
DR. HIRSCHE: Pull yourself together, Mr. Schroeder. Mrs. Schroeder look at him.
(DR. HIRSCHE hands the baby to SARA.)
SARA: Oh my. Come over here, Peter.
PETER: No way.
SARA: It’s just a baby.
PETER: Just a baby? (PETER hyperventilates) Just (Loses his breath) Jus-ah Just ah ah ah bebe-b- baby? (Laughing to himself) “Just a baby?” ahuh ah. (Suddenly serious) Are you listening to yourself? Just a b-baby?!! Have you any idea what those things do?
DR. HIRSCHE: They don’t do anything they’re babies, Mr. Schroeder.
PETER: You obviously have no idea what you’re talking about.
SARA: He’s a doctor, Peter.
DR. HIRSCHE: I want a second opinion.
SARA: They just eat, sleep and shit.
PETER: You say that like it’s normal. In fact if you told parents what their excretions were like no one would ever take them home. They shit; they fart; they burp; they piss; they cry; their noses run with snot and they spit like camels. And it’s all oozing and dripping and shooting all over the place; there isn’t a safe angle to approach them from; they can attack from all sides! It’s total anarchy!
DR. HIRSCHE: It isn’t that bad.
PETER: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, It’s worse! (He lowers his voice and widens his eyes.) They take over. That’s what they are programmed to do. They’re like aliens! The emerge from The Mother Ship speaking in strange tongues and making demands, they coo and laugh and take everything away you hold dear. They invade your sleep and take over your sex life. They come into your house and abduct your wife’s breasts. Your old culture is gone and your old ways are lost forever. No more beer. No more Chuck Norris. You start acting like a gay mime whenever you see him and you can’t watch anything on TV that doesn’t have a big singing teddy bear in it. When you hear the music of Barney the Dinosaur, The Prince of Darkness, himself, you know it is over. There is no turning back; you are condemned.
SARA: Just hold the baby.
PETER: You’d sooner get me to hold a live cobra.
SARA: Just come here and look, Peter.
DR. HIRSCHE: Come on, Mr. Schroeder.
PETER: No way.
DR. HIRSCHE: Put your arms out.
PETER: No.
DR. HIRSCHE: Mr. Schroeder, what are you afraid of?
SARA: Is there one thing you are afraid of that could actually happen in the real world?
PETER: What if I break it?
DR. HIRSCHE: Break it?
PETER: Yeah, heavy head, heavy body, no neck, it’s a Slinky with skin! An accident waiting to happen and I don’t want to be around when it does.
SARA: You won’t break the baby.
PETER: How can you be so sure?
DR. HIRSCHE: I will assist.
PETER: Dear God! (Takes a breath. The DR. HIRSCHE places the baby in his hands showing PETER how to hold it. PETER exhales, looks into the baby’s eyes and smiles.) Dear God. (BARNEY walks in the room singing “I love you.” PETER et al do not notice. They remain standing around the baby, like a nativity scene. A spotlight tightens around BARNEY as the music slows down to a demonic sounding dirge. BARNEY begins to laugh demonically. Blackout.)