copyright © 2005 Scott McGee

Mickey Mouse’s Middle Finger

by Scott McGee

(Lights up on CAP’N FLYNT sitting in a chair SR. ACTOR 1 stands holding script and performing.)

ACTOR 1: We’re not gonna let you send us away anymore. I, we, all of us… refuse …to go away. (pause) How’s that?

DIRECTOR: (a voice heard over a microphone from the back of the theatre) That’s it?

ACTOR 1: Yeah. Uh, that’s it. Did you want more?

DIRECTOR: No. That’s fine. Thank you. You know… you’re perfect. You’re just what we’ve

been looking for. Absolutely. You got the part.

ACTOR 1: Really. Wow. Are you kidding?

DIRECTOR: Yes I am. How old are you? 12? Jesus Christ. Get the fuck outta here. Do you people even read the notices? Next!

ACTOR 1: (mumbling as he exits) Thank you. Fucking waste of an afternoon.


ACTOR 2 enters.

ACTOR 2: Morgan Van Morgan. Actor. Singer. Wordsmith. I’ll be doing a piece from "Little Jimmy’s Gone A-Huntin’." I think you’re gonna like it. "My, my, little Jimmy. What do you got there? What’s that, little Jimmy? A gun? Be careful, it could es-plode. Bang.

DIRECTOR: Thank you. Next!

ACTOR 2: Wait a minute. Not quite done here.

DIRECTOR: You’re done. Next! (Actor 2 doesn’t leave.) Uh, what are you doing?

ACTOR 2: I’m gonna start over. Get my rhythm.

DIRECTOR: Cap’n Flynt?

Cap’n Flynt rises and approaches ACTOR 2.

FLYNT: Rrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

ACTOR 2: Dear God.

ACTOR 2 leaves. CAP’N FLYNT sits down again.


ACTOR 3 enters.

ACTOR 3: Hi. I’m ******. That’s right, ladies. I want you to go out there and kill! Don’t just hurt him, end him! I want to see corpses out there! I want the field to look like Omaha Beach when we’re through! I want broken ribs, shredded tendons, and punctured spleens. Defense, you don’t just separate the man from the ball, you separate the man from his HEAD!

DIRECTOR: Not bad. Can you do it less like a woman.

ACTOR 3: What?

DIRECTOR: Can you do it again, but this time do it less like a woman.

ACTOR 3: I wasn’t really doing it as a woman.

DIRECTOR: Can you do it again, but this time do it … less gay.

ACTOR 3: Less gay?

DIRECTOR: Correct.

ACTOR 3: I wasn’t doing it gay either. I was just doing it … you know… regular.

DIRECTOR: Oh. Okay. Next!

ACTOR 3: You know I could do it however you want me to. What are you looking for?

DIRECTOR: Someone… not… you. Next!

ACTOR 3: (mumbling as he leaves) I’m not gay. Fuck.

ACTRESS 4 enters.

ACTRESS 4: I’m *******. Here goes. I remember him. He was my 3rd Grade love. He was so

funny. Like a giant box of corn flakes that sings the blues. Good times.

DIRECTOR: Lovely. Just lovely.

ACTRESS 4: Thank you.

DIRECTOR: That was really great. Best we’ve seen all day.

ACTRESS 4: Thanks.

DIRECTOR: Could you do it again, please, but this time could you remove your shirt.

ACTRESS 4: Excuse me?

DIRECTOR: If you want.

ACTRESS 4: Remove my shirt?

DIRECTOR: When it feels right.

ACTRESS 4: Would it feel right if I came up there and put my foot up your ass?

DIRECTOR: Joke. Joking. Just testing your … boundaries. Thank you. Next!

ACTRESS 4: That’s it?

DIRECTOR: We’ll call. Thank you. Next!

ACTRESS 4: (mumbling as she leaves) Sexist motherfucker. Such bullshit.

ACTOR 2 reenters wearing cowboy hat.

ACTOR 2: I’m a cowboy. Yee-Ha.

DIRECTOR: Please leave.

ACTOR 2: Okay. Could I have my picture and resume back?

DIRECTOR: Cap’n Flynt.

FLYNT: (rising) Rrrrrrrrrrr!!!

ACTOR 2: Okay. I could do it without my shirt.

FLYNT: Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

ACTOR 2: Leaving. Filthy pirate.


ACTOR 5 enters. Stands for a second. Does a mime.

DIRECTOR: No mimes. Next!

ACTOR 5 mimes leaving while ACTRESS 6 and ACTOR 7 enter.

DIRECTOR: No couples. Thank you!

ACTRESS 6: What the hell is that all about?

ACTOR 7: I hate walk-on parts anyway.


ACTOR 8 walks on carrying a guitar. Strikes a chord.

DIRECTOR: No music. Next!

ACTOR 8 walks off dejected.

DIRECTOR: I hate musicians.

PIANIST: (gets up) Fuck you. (walks out)


ACTOR 9 walks in carrying a candle.

DIRECTOR: No artistic types doing avant guarde shit. Thank you.

ACTOR 9: Bite me.

DIRECTOR: Get a haircut. Next!

MAX walks in and stands flipping nose.

DIRECTOR: Uh… do you do anything?

MAX: Sometimes!

DIRECTOR: Well, go ahead if you’re ready. Are you ready?

MAX: Sometimes!

DIRECTOR: Oh, wait. I get it. You’re a mental-challenged person who will randomly yell "sometimes" to elicit a few laughs and then at the last minute will break out into a monologue to voice a common yet unspoken belief or truism. This is done on behalf of the author who refuses to speak his mind through any standard character he writes about but instead chooses to slip quote-unquote deep messages into an otherwise stereotypical comedic sketch about a retard. Am I right?

MAX: (thinks, is about to concede the point. Then.) Sometiiiiiiiiimes! Sometimes the last thing we say is not only---

DIRECTOR: Next! Cap’n Flynt.

CAP’N FLYNT rises and ushers out MAX as MAX continues to say "sometimes."

FLYNT: (After he finishes, he squints into lights) Sorry, sir, but it’s time for me pee break.

DIRECTOR: Yeah sure. Go ahead. (CAP’N FLYNT exits.) Next!

ACTRESS 10 enters and stands there.

DIRECTOR: Whenever you’re ready.

ACTRESS 10: Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?

DIRECTOR: What’s that?

ACTRESS 10: You want me to go when I’m ready. Trying to put things on my terms. When, in fact, it never will be on my terms. I can get up here and deliver the most brilliant performance in the world and it still would not be on my terms. You hold all the power sitting back there in the comfort of your anonymous darkness. And you wield it casually and carelessly, never realizing the hopes and dreams that you so recklessly crush with a single word spoken from the safety of the shadows. And although you will spout the rhetoric of solidarity with struggling actor to all your friends as you sit dining on spring nut salads and sipping the oh-so-chic drink-of-the-day, the truth is you haven’t the slightest idea what it’s like to stand alone under the bright light burning a solo spot in an otherwise darkened theatre, and to hope… so desperately… to make a good impression as you lay bear the very heart and soul of yourself that is, ironically enough the only thing you have precious enough in your life to hold onto at all. And yet, you lay it all out there, hoping for approval of some sort from a disembodied voice in the dark. And it’s so very easy for you to sit out there and make your decisions so frivolously, and cut our dreams short so quickly, while we labor away tirelessly and without much hope to begin with, for a small sign of acceptance that will get us through the next 3-4 weeks, at which time we have to start from scratch and go out and humble ourselves again seeking the next round of pats on the back from another hollow voice from the very back row. And while I can stand up here and tell you all this and it might sound meaningful and poignant, we all know that it’ll only be remembered as a "dark" or solemn statement made at the end of a semi-funny sketch about people auditioning and getting shooed offstage by a pirate. Because although I’m saying all this and I truly mean it, you, of course, are ultimately gonna have the last word in this scene. Which is gonna be an attempt to close out things with a laugh and to force some humor into an uncomfortable moment on stage. And maybe it’ll work for you and maybe it won’t. But remember this: you won’t have the last word in our lives. We’re not gonna let you send us away anymore. I, we, all of us… refuse …to go away. Okay? Okay. Now, I’m ready. Go ahead.



Lights out slow.


[Back to Library] Home