MAC walks onto stage with clipboard - walks around as if taking inventory.
BUD: (from just off stage) Hey Mac!
MAC: Yea Bud?
BUD: Somebody left a trunk in one of these rentals.
MAC: A what?
BUD: A trunk.
MAC: Left it where?
BUD: In one the trucks.
MAC: A trunk?
BUD: Yea, in a truck.
MAC: Left a trunk in a truck?
BUD: Yea. I guess when they left the truck, they left the trunk. What should we do with it?
MAC: Leave it in lost and found, I guess.
BUD; Did you check it out?
MAC: Who me? Naw.
BUD: Wonder what's in it?
MAC: Why don't you check it out?
BUD: Who me? Naw.
Both look down at it for a moment, then..
BUD: O.K.! Let's look.
MAC: Yea, O.K.
MAC: I think it's locked Bud.
BUD: Yea. I think you're right.
MAC: (beat) You gotta Bobbie Pin?
BUD: Why would I have a Bobbie Pin?
MAC: Don't know.
BUD: Do you?
MAC: Who me? Naw! (beat) You gotta ice pick?
BUD: Nope.
MAC: A needle?
BUD: Nope.
MAC: Safety pin? A small allen wrench? (BUD shakes his head at each) A finishing nail? Needle nose pliers? Wire cutters? Swiss Army Knife? A cork screw? Tweezers?
BUD: Nope.
MAC: A small two gauge rotary defragmenting reverse polarity pine lock picker?
BUD: Yea. (takes toothpick from mouth -hands it to Mac) Here ya go.
MAC: Thanks. (bends down -quickly picks lock - and opens trunk) You see what I see
Bud?
BUD: I think so. You smell what I smell?
MAC: Oh yea. Big time.
BUD: Is “that” what it looks like?
MAC: It looks like it. You think we should we tell somebody?
BUD: I don't know Mac. They'll ask us questions, they'll check our backgrounds ... it'll be a big long ordeal. Days. Maybe months. You wanna tell somebody?
MAC: Who me? Naw!
BUD: So, did we "see" something?
MAC: Nope. I didn't see nothing in there. Did you?
BUD: In where?
MAC: Exactly. I think we didn't see nothin'. (shuts trunk lid)
BUD: Or smell nothin'.
MAC: I really gotta be going, Bud.
BUD: Yea, we best be going.
MAC: Yea. Let's go.
BUD: You need a lift home?
MAC: No, I'm gunna wait.
BUD: Wait for who?
MAC: Goddot.
BUD: Oh.
They remain frozen on stage as Narrator enters.
NARRATOR: Good evening. Presented for your permission. Submitted for your
acceptance. From a place where mystery and intrigue loom just out of reach, like so many carrots dangled before the horses, we turn our attention to something more accessible.
Where the carrots are not dangled as far and the horses are faster. Where time and space are roommates and take turns doing the dishes. Where approval is the sound of one hand clapping. Where matter and energy are distant cousins. You're crossing over into a dimension that's a short walk on a long pier. Next sign post up ahead.... "Fine for littering."
