Song: “Kill the DJ” by Green Day from ¡Uno!
(Picture from http://www.knoxnews.com)
Police cars red and blue flashing lights illuminate the dark. The banquet hall is a scene of chaos ended: overturned tables, shattered glass, food and liquid ground into carpet and catching the available light in slick puddles on the floor. A group of people in formalwear are gathered against the wall, clutching one another, sobbing, shaking. BILLY stands near a large window which has been shatter in multiple places, opposite the hostages. His tux shirt is open, tie askew, and he’s sweating and breathing hard. He clutches a gun in his hand. As he speaks, he fluctuates between asides and directing his attention to the huddled wedding partygoers, the audience (who he treats as though they are part of the festivities as well) and the police out the window.
BILLY (muttering)
Six in the clip, one in the chamber. Six in the clip, one in the chamber. Good, good. Won’t need ‘em but need ‘em to know I’m serious.
Turns to the “party” (assembled guests and audience). Treats them as same unit so there is no distinct “talk here, now turn left and talk there” feel but more like a speaker before a long auditorium; scan the crowd, focus on certain people at random to create intimacy, occasionally spotlight someone specific.
BILLY (trying for a conciliatory tone)
I really do apologize for this. I can only imagine how…inconvenient this is for everyone. I am…I am just sorry beyond words. Truly. Weddings should be special. Believe me. BELIEVE ME! I know.
I got married once. It should’ve been special. I thought it was. It wasn’t until later that…
Anyway, nevermind that. That’s not for you to worry about. That’s for later. What I meant to say was I’m very sorry.
To the woman in the wedding dress.
You really do look quite beautiful. Your husband is a very lucky man.
Attention back to the full room
I am sorry. And I will make amends. After this is through. After—
Elevates voice towards the window
After these incompetents stopping wasting all our goddamned time and send me what I want!
Back to the room
After that, scout’s honor, I will go out and find you another hall on a day after your honeymoon and you can have the reception you dreamed of. All on me. Promise. Ok? That’ll make things better. Help you forget this whole…unfortunate mess.
A phone rings somewhere in the room, behind the audience.
Do not answer that! Sir! Yeah, you. The one who decided NOT to wear a tie to a wedding. You! Don’t you dare touch that phone! I told you before. I will talk to the police and I will do it my way. Clear?
Good. Now if you’ll excuse me.
BILLY wanders over to the big window, careful to stay on the side of it.
For the last time! I do not want to talk to anyone! I do not need a chopper! I do not need a bus! I don’t want cash! I will let everyone here go when you send him in! Send me the DJ, the one who…who defiled her on our wedding day. Send him in and everyone else here gets to leave! Stop trying to call me! I will not negotiate!
Back to the room, takes a deep, cleansing breath.
Jeez, wow. Sorry about that. I just find people who won’t listen very hard to deal with. But that’s on me, not on you guys. Please don’t feel like my yelling is about any of you. Especially you, Sheila.
He points to a bridesmaid who is sobbing. Her dress has a bloodspot on it that appears not to be hers.
I know you and I totally got off on the wrong foot. So sorry about that. Was not expecting your date—is he your boyfriend? Not important I suppose—anyway, he surprised me. Me shooting him was pure reflex. Sooooo wasn’t planning on that. I hope we’re cool now. I mean, Barry’s ok so no harm no foul right? You still doing ok Bar?
A groan goes up from a man on the ground clutching a cloth to his abdomen.
See? Golden!
The room goes quiet for a bit as BILLY sits down, under the window. Whimpering, sobbing, and the occasional “it’s going to be ok” can be heard from the assembled masses. BILLY eventually slaps his head as if an epiphany has occurred.
What am I thinking?! This is still a wedding. We still have toasts to make. The DJ—the hideous bastard who I will soon send to Hell—might have abandoned you—like the terrible coward he is—but his deck’s still here. I can turn on some music for you guys. Maybe get some line dancing going? You know, everyone is always all, “I don’t want any Electric Slide or Chicken Dance nonsense at the reception,” but then the good DJs—not the ones who have sex with your new wife in the bathroom—they play ‘em anyway and everybody loves it. You ever notice that?
So, yeah, let’s do it. We can kill some time—oooo, I know…bad word choice. Remember though, not killing any of you. Just the DJ—that filthy bastard. We can PASS the time while we wait for the cops to stop being so dumb and just dance, dance, dance!
BILLY walks to the DJ’s equipment and begins to turn things on and plug things in. He pauses for a moment, something occurring to him.
One thing though. I really would encourage everyone to just dance on this portion of the floor in front of me here. Anyone in front of the window might got snipered. Safety first, everybody!
And now…let’s Twist!
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