Leslie Blackwell Leslie Blackwell
Recommendations: 21

Ah the Ginsu knife. I remember the adverts well, someone cutting through a shoe it still apparently being sharp enough to keep slicing other things. But wait there's more...

Leslie Blackwell Leslie Blackwell
Recommendations: 21

almost drops her chop in feverish excitement ( great line)

Leslie Blackwell Leslie Blackwell
Recommendations: 21

Nah the Ginsu would have been better.

Allen Clarke Allen Clarke
Recommendations: 18

Possibly, although, I wanted to tie it all up into a neat little package, minus the possibility of excessive gore. Besides if it were ever adapted to film, I wanted to spare the f/x man all that messy catsup.

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Allen Clarke Allen Clarke
Recommendations: 18


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George Washington!

I'm not exactly sure where this one came from. Perhaps, it might have wandered in from left field.

Betrayed- A One Act Play

The Player- John Powell, an editor of a multi-million dollar publishing conglomerate.
Scriber- His wife of 3 years.

Curtain rises up to reveal a domestic scene. One man and a women are sharing a candle-light dinner.The man is elegantly attired. The woman, on the other hand, is shabbily dressed. The mood is decidedly... pensive, contrary to the romantic setting.

John: Would you pass the small potatoes, dear?

Scriber: Certainly,...Sweets.

John: I was at the lawyer's today.

Scriber: Oh, really? Her ears perk at the possibility of...pending litigation.

John: I took the liberty of making a few (ahem)... adjustments to my will.

Scriber: Is there anything I should be privy to, dear? She half-whispers the words, whilst contemplating the obsidian-like blade of her glittering Ginsu dinner knife. 1 comment

John: Nothing to be alarmed about, my sweet, I assure you.

Scriber: Of course, the pre-nup details remain the same...right?...beloved?

John: Of course, as long as we remain together.

Scriber: I have fantastic news! She almost drops...her chop, in feverish excitement. 1 comment

John: Oh, and what would that be? I certainly could use some, what with all the rat-race of keeping a roof over our heads.

Scriber: I'm preggers!

John: (Stupified silence)

Scriber: Well...what?

An evil grin begins to darken John's work-weary visage.

Scriber: Yes..Jon..what is it? Pray tell!

John: Well..well,well...haven't you been a busy girl?

Scriber: Jon...whatever do you mean?

Jon: My dear, you must realize, that I am quite impotent! As sterile as sterile can be. I couldn't  sire, if my millions depended on it. Pass the gravy...train...,I mean, the H-P sauce, won't you, my dear?

Scriber: But, what about all those promises...our children...the dowry..the...millions...???

Jon: Yes, well, my dear your little revelation has just cost you...quite everything!

Scriber: What about my poems, my writings...the best-seller that I wrote for you?

Jon: Oh, well, call it... collateral damage. Ce' la Vie!

Scriber :You swine! You incorrigible schwein-hundt!

With that she pulls out a revolver and ends the multi-millionaire's miserable life with the pull of a trigger. 2 comments

Lights fade to black, as the curtain falls


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