BURGLARS

©1988 by John Robinson Wheeler. All rights reserved.

 

Lights up. MARTIN enters through door stage left, carrying and reading a newspaper. He slams the door behind him and the lights flick out. He pounds his fist resolutely on the wall twice, next to the lightswitch by the door. After the second blow, the lights come back on again.

MARTIN:

Frances, the lights are still on the blink.

FRANCES: (shout from somewhere off to the right) 

I know, I told you to call about it.

MARTIN:

When did you tell me that?

FRANCES: (fainter shout) 

I can't hear a word you're saying, Martin.

MARTIN: (louder) 

When did you tell me that? (after a pause)  Never mind.

 

He goes over to the couch and continues reading the newspaper. Almost immediately, FRANCES comes in through a door from the right, heading briskly left. As she passes the door, the doorbell rings.

FRANCES: (as she passes by the door and doesn'tstop) 

Get that, would you? It's probably the little girl scout selling cookies, again.

 

Frances exits through door left. Doorbell rings again.

MARTIN:

Oh, no problem, no problem. As long as I'm up and all.

 

There is a knock on the door.

MARTIN: (louder) 

No problem at all.

FRANCES: (in the distance) 

Thank you.

 

Martin gets up and opens the door huffily, revealing a man in a sharp suit, BILLINGS. He has his hands behind his back.

MARTIN:

Yes?

BILLINGS:

Hello, Mr. Cambrio.

MARTIN: (cautiously) 

Hello.

BILLINGS:

I'm Mr. Billings, your new neighbor.

MARTIN:

Ah, hello. I wasn't aware that anyone new had moved in around here.

BILLINGS:

Yes, well, that's why I stopped by.

MARTIN:

I see. Would you like to come in a moment?

 

Billings brings his left hand around, which holds a small leather notebook. He glances at his watch, brings his right hand around, which holds a nice pen, and scribbles something in it. He then drops both hands to a more relaxed position.

BILLINGS:

I certainly would.

 

He enters, standing no more than a foot inside the doorway.

MARTIN: (sensing the apparent difficulty of closingthe door) 

Don't you think you should...

BILLINGS: (staring) 

How long have you worn glasses?

MARTIN:

Me? Uh, I don't wear glasses.

BILLINGS:

Contacts?

MARTIN:

No.

BILLINGS:

Sorry, the squint fooled me.

 

Martin looks puzzled, and tests squinting and unsquinting a couple of times.

BILLINGS: (jotting something down) 

Would you mind if I came in and sat down?

MARTIN:

Go right ahead.

 

Billings stares at Martin, then jots something else down.

BILLINGS:

Right.

 

He heads purposefully to the sofa, and sits down. Martin closes the door and turns to face Billings, who immediately stands up again.

BILLINGS:

I'm afraid I should leave.

MARTIN:

You just got here.

BILLINGS:

Just? No, I arrived at your door more than a minute ago.

MARTIN:

Well, I didn't mean literally.

BILLINGS: (hard) 

What did you mean?

MARTIN:

I meant that you had recently just shown up and you are now already preparing to leave, and that seems odd to me.

 

Billings jots something else down, and walks to the door.

MARTIN:

What is that you keep writing down?

BILLINGS:

Observations. Good day.

 

Billings opens the door himself, and exits, leaving the door open. Martin shuts it wearily. He is halfway to the sofa when there is a knock at the door. He opens it again to find no one there. He goes back and sits on the sofa and picks up the newspaper just as there is another knock. He puts it down, trudges to the door, and opens it to find no one there. He shuts it angrily, but not slamming it, and goes back to the sofa.

He picks up the newspaper and there is another knock. He pauses, then lifts the newspaper up to read it. There is another knock. He continues reading for a moment, then slowly lowers the paper and stares at the door. Finally, he throws the paper down, stomps to the door, and flings it open. Billings is standing there, again holding his little notebook.

BILLINGS: (looking at watch) 

27 (or however many)  seconds, Mr. Cambrio.

MARTIN:

What?

BILLINGS:

That is how long it took you to answer the door after two false knocks.

MARTIN:

You mean that was you the first two times?

BILLINGS:

Yes. Good day.

 

He turns and exits.

MARTIN:

Hey!

 

There is no response. Martin slams door and the lights go off. He trudges over to the left wall and pounds on it once. The lights come back on. He heads back to the sofa as Frances comes in.

FRANCES:

Stop playing with the doors.

MARTIN: (sitting) 

I wasn't playing with the doors, I was answering them.

FRANCES:

Did you call about the lighting problem?

MARTIN: (Just as he's picked up the newspaper) 

No, I haven't.

FRANCES:

I thought you said you did.

MARTIN:

All right! All right!

 

Frances exits. Martin walks over to the phone and picks it up. The doorbell rings. He balances the phone on his shoulder as he prepares to dial.

MARTIN:

Could you get that?

 

He looks over shoulder and sees that Frances has gone. He calls louder.

MARTIN:

Could you get that?

 

The doorbell rings again. Martin puts the phone down and goes to the door, flinging it open.

MARTIN: (roaring)

What?

 

Behind the door is a young GIRL SCOUT, who is quitestartled.

GIRL SCOUT: Eeeeek!

 

She turns and runs away, dropping a box of cookies.

MARTIN:

Hey! Wait! I'm sorry! (he picks up the cookies)  You forgot your cookies! Hey!

 

It's a lost cause, so he shuts the door. He starts to take a look at the girl scout cookies, but almost immediately there is a knock at the door. Martin opens it again, more cautiously, to find Billings on the doorstep again. He is in the writing position.

BILLINGS:

Do you make a habit of scaring Girl Scouts, Mr. Cambrio?

MARTIN: (defensive) 

Now look...

BILLINGS: (glancing up) 

Look where?

MARTIN:

I didn't mean that literally.

BILLINGS:

I see. You don't seem to be a very literal person.

MARTIN:

What?

BILLINGS:

In order to communicate effectively, one should learn to say exactly what one means.

MARTIN:

Well just because I use a colloquialism here and there doesn't mean I'm not a literal person by nature.

BILLINGS:

It doesn't?

MARTIN:

No.

BILLINGS: I see.

 

He writes something down.

MARTIN:

What are you writing?

BILLINGS:

Do you work for a living?

MARTIN: (hesitant) 

Yes.

BILLINGS:

What do you do?

MARTIN:

I'm a writer for an advertising firm.

BILLINGS: (scribbling) 

What hours do you work?

MARTIN:

Why do you want to know that?

BILLINGS:

Why do you want to know what I'm writing?

MARTIN:

Just curious.

BILLINGS:

Mm hmm.

MARTIN:

Touché.

BILLINGS:

What's your favourite colour?

MARTIN:

Uh...green.

BILLINGS:

Oh? That's interesting.

MARTIN:

Aren't you going to write that down?

BILLINGS:

Write what down?

MARTIN:

About my favourite colour.

BILLINGS:

What about your favourite colour?

MARTIN: (starting to feel confused) 

I don't remember.

BILLINGS:

You don't remember? (writes something down.)  That IS interesting.

MARTIN:

Look, Billings.

BILLINGS:

Billings?

MARTIN:

I thought your name was Billings.

BILLINGS:

Where did you get that idea?

MARTIN:

Didn't you tell me that?

BILLINGS:

Did I?

MARTIN: (confused for a second, then assertively) 

Yes, you did.

BILLINGS:

Mm hmm. Well, I think that if you can't even remember why I asked you about your favourite colour then you will not be at all likely to remember what my name is.

MARTIN:

Well, what IS your name, then?

BILLINGS:

Does it matter to you whether or not you know my name?

MARTIN:

Yes, of course.

BILLINGS:

Why?

MARTIN:

Well, I have to call you something.

BILLINGS:

Why don't you call me Dennis?

MARTIN:

Is that your name, Dennis?

BILLINGS:

Certainly not.

MARTIN:

Why should I call you Dennis, then?

BILLINGS:

I thought you had to call me something.

MARTIN:

I'd rather call you by your name.

BILLINGS:

Did you realize that the picture on the wall behind you is crooked?

MARTIN: (glancing around) 

No, I didn't know that.

BILLINGS:

You don't seem to know a lot of things, do you?

MARTIN:

What do you mean by that?

BILLINGS: (rapidly) 

What is 2 plus 2?

MARTIN:

Four.

BILLINGS:

What colour shirt are you wearing?

MARTIN:

Blue.

BILLINGS:

What's the opposite of black?

MARTIN:

White.

BILLINGS:

Why is glass transparent?

MARTIN:

Uh.

 

Billings scribbles, shaking his head.

MARTIN:

Wait a minute.

BILLINGS:

A whole minute?

MARTIN:

I didn't mean that literally.

BILLINGS:

I thought not. (scribbles) 

MARTIN:

What do you mean by...

BILLINGS:

How am I ever supposed to believe anything you say if you never mean anything literally?

MARTIN:

Well, I mean some things literally.

BILLINGS:

I see.

MARTIN:

What do you mean by "Why is glass transparent?"

BILLINGS:

It was just a question, like the others.

MARTIN:

Yes, but that's not the same as asking what colour shirt I'm wearing.

BILLINGS: Why not?

 

Martin fails to find an answer, and Billings is quick to jump on this.

BILLINGS:

Is it just because you could only answer three out of four questions that you judge one question to be different from the rest?

 

Martin fails to find an answer.

BILLINGS:

The only question that was not able to be answered by a simple fact was the one about black and white. That's a qualitative answer.

MARTIN:

Look, how am I supposed to know why glass is transparent? It just...is!

BILLINGS:

How do you know that 2 and 2 are 4?

MARTIN:

Well, because...

BILLINGS:

How do you know that your shirt is blue?

MARTIN:

Because...

BILLINGS:

Because they just are. If it is accepted that all glass is transparent, then there must be a reason why that holds true for all glass, and that reason is a fact, just like 2 + 2 equals 4 is a fact.

 

Frances enters.

MARTIN: (holding in anger) 

Okay, forget it.

FRANCES:

Who are you talking to?

BILLINGS:

How do you do. I'm Mr. Billings.

FRANCES:

Pleased to meet you. (to Martin)  Why didn't you ask him in?

MARTIN:

I did, earlier.

FRANCES: (leading Billings in) 

Come right this way, Mr Billings. Martin, could you shut the door?

MARTIN: Oh, sure.

 

He shuts the door.

FRANCES:

What brings you here today, Mr Billings?

BILLINGS:

I'm a reporter for the local newspaper, and I was just asking your husband some questions about the recent wave of burglaries and crimes in this neighborhood.

 

Martin looks a little startled.

FRANCES:

Oh, yes, I just read about that in this morning's paper. Do you think it's dangerous? Should we get better locks on the doors?

BILLINGS:

I'm not one to judge, but that might be safe. You never know who might walk in one day.

 

Martin and Billings exchange sideways glances.

FRANCES:

Would you like some tea or coffee?

BILLINGS:

Just water, thank you.

FRANCES:

Certainly. You know, I've thought I've heard noises at night, like someone creeping around the back yard.

MARTIN:

It's just cats, Frances.

FRANCES:

You can't be too sure. Right, Mr. Billings? (she hands him a glass water) 

BILLINGS:

All too true, Mrs. Cambrio. Thank you. (he takes a small sip and sets it down on the coffee table.) 

FRANCES:

I think we should get a burglar alarm.

MARTIN:

I don't think we need to go that far. Those alarms cost an arm and a leg to install unless you do it yourself.

FRANCES:

Don't you think it would be worth it? Tell him, Mr. Billings.

BILLINGS:

Call me Charles. (to Martin)  I think your wife is right. It would be much less expensive than losing thousands of dollars of furniture.

MARTIN:

All right, I'll call about getting an alarm system.

FRANCES:

Don't forget.

MARTIN:

I won't.

FRANCES:

Did you call about getting the lights fixed?

MARTIN: (remembering with some disdain that hehasn't) 

No.

FRANCES:

Well do that! I've told you twice already not to forget.

MARTIN:

Okay, okay.

 

He goes to the phone and picks up the receiver.

FRANCES:

Don't call when there's company here!

 

Martin puts down the receiver.

BILLINGS:

No, that's all right. I should be going anyway. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Cambio. And thank you for the water.

FRANCES:

No, it was my pleasure. Nice meeting you.

BILLINGS: (nodding towards Martin) 

Mr. Cambrio.

MARTIN: (snidely) 

Charles.

 

Billings stands up and turns towards the door.

FRANCES:

Oh, do show him to the door, Martin.

 

Martin grudgingly leads Billings to the door and opens it.

FRANCES:

Goodbye.

 

Frances waves and exits.

MARTIN:

Goodbye.

BILLINGS:

Goodbye. (He steps out, then turns around.)  Mr. Cambrio?

MARTIN:

Yes?

BILLINGS:

Do you always do everything your wife tells you to?

MARTIN:

Well, sometimes I...

BILLINGS:

Yes or no?

MARTIN:

Er...I suppose....

BILLINGS:

Is that a yes?

MARTIN:

Yes.

BILLINGS:Then why haven't you phoned the electricians yet?

 

Frances enters to collect the glass Billings left on the coffee table. Martin does not notice her presence, and blows up at Billings.

MARTIN:

GET LOST! And yes I DO mean literally.

FRANCES:

Martin!

 

Martin is quite startled.

BILLINGS: (raising notebook) 

Can I quote you on that?

FRANCES: (on her way out) 

I think we should talk later, Martin. I do apologize, Mr. Billings.

BILLINGS:

Charles.

FRANCES: (smiling) 

Charles.

 

Frances exits. Martin watches her leave and shut the door, then turns back to see Billings leaving.

MARTIN:

Why didn't you tell me you were a reporter?

BILLINGS: (calling back) 

I'm not. Good day.

 

Martin shuts door and appears puzzled.

MARTIN: (calling) 

I'm going out for a while.

 

He goes to get his coat.

FRANCES: (poking her head in from the other room) 

Martin?

MARTIN:

Yes, dear?

FRANCES:

What do you mean by being rude to guests in our home?

MARTIN:

Being rude? He started it.

FRANCES: (entering) 

Whatever do you mean? Charles is a perfect gentleman!

MARTIN:

"Charles" was knocking on the door and then hiding when I went to answer it. And he asked me a lot of ...weird... questions.

FRANCES:

Well, a reporter has to ask questions, doesn't he?

MARTIN:

But he told me he wasn't a reporter just now. He said he was our new neighbor.

FRANCES:

Oh, how interesting. Maybe he'll drop by more often.

MARTIN:

I hope not.

FRANCES:

Oh, don't be rude. I think you should learn to have better manners. It's getting so that we don't have any company at all any more.

MARTIN:

Oh, what a frightful shame.

FRANCES: (angrily) 

Don't be snide with me, Martin. I've got no social life at all and it's all your fault.

 

Martin mimicks her as she says this.

MARTIN:

What do you want to do? Throw a party and invite everyone you know?

FRANCES:

What a good idea! When should we have it?

MARTIN:

I wasn't being serious.

FRANCES:

Well I am. I think it would be grand.

MARTIN:

I was joking, dear.

FRANCES:

I'll make out a shopping list when I get back.

 

She goes to get her coat.

MARTIN:

Where are you going?

FRANCES:

Out with friends.

MARTIN:

I thought you said you didn't have a social life.

FRANCES:

Don't take that tone with me, Martin. I'm just out for an hour or two.

MARTIN:

Fine, I think I'm going out too.

 

He gets his coat.

FRANCES:

Where are you going?

MARTIN:

Out.

FRANCES:

If you're planning to take the car, have the tires looked at and the oil changed.

MARTIN:

Yes, yes, sure.

FRANCES:

And stop by the dry cleaners and pick up your suit.

MARTIN:

Fine, fine.

FRANCES:

And could you stop at the zoo and pick up a dozen tigers?

MARTIN:

Whatever you say, dear.

FRANCES:

Martin!

MARTIN: (startled) 

What?

FRANCES:

Have you been getting all this?

MARTIN:

Of course!

FRANCES:

Well, don't forget.

MARTIN:

I won't! I won't!

FRANCES: (on her way out the door) 

Martin?

MARTIN:

Yes?

FRANCES:

You have called the electricians, haven't you?

 

Martin stares at the phone.

FRANCES:

Well? Have you?

MARTIN: (exasperated) 

Yes!

FRANCES:

Oh good. When will they be by?

MARTIN:

Uhm...didn't you say that you have a meeting tomorrow?

FRANCES:

Yes, tomorrow morning from 9 to 11.

MARTIN:

Oh, well, that's when they'll be here. 9 to 11. Yup.

FRANCES: (shrugging) 

All right. Bye, dear.

 

Frances exits. Martin puts on coat and starts toward door, then pauses. He looks furtively around and creeps over to the phone. He gives one more glance over towards the door. Just as he starts to pick up the receiver, Frances comes back in. Martin quickly puts the phone down and steps back a couple of feet.

FRANCES:

Forgot my purse.

 

She breezes past and collects her purse from a chair. Martin looks at the phone again.

FRANCES:

Aren't you going?

MARTIN:

What? Yes, right, I'm off. Bye.

 

Martin exits. Frances slings her purse over her shoulder and makes her way to the door just as the phone rings.

FRANCES:

Hello? Oh, hello Mr. Billi... Charles. What? No, not at all. I was just on my way out, but it wasn't important. No, really. Oh, you do? A friend of yours? That's marvellous. When will you be by? Half hour? Oh, no, really, no trouble. Okay, see you then. Bye-bye.

 

Frances hangs up the phone and exits, leaving her purse where it was before, as the lights do a slow fade.

 

Part 2